So I wish I could sit here and tell you that I could do this all on my own. The fact is I've had some great help along the way, from truly excellent companies, so I would like to take this moment to give them a shout out, and officially endorse their stuff.

First up: Happy-Trail Panniers
These guys were my first sponsors, who really helped me get in the saddle and on the road with my first dual-sport. Not only are their boxes bullet proof, and high speed crash resistant, they are actually water and dust proof - this fact has been tested under some very hairy conditions (i.e. tropical storm, sand storm, beach riding, dozens of drops into sand, mud and dust).
In fact, Happy-Trail panniers are one of the reasons I was able to walk away from the big crash in Guatemala (story coming, don't you woory ), is because the panniers kept the bike from trapping my leg underneath - so it just slid off me. Not only did I stop short of hitting the rail, I actually walked away from the crash! Thanks Happy-Trail, I sure do love my legs, you know, all attached to me and stuff!
Lots of love for Happy-Trail.com


If any of you guys have questions about which panniers I have, or more details on how great they are, feel free to message me anytime.

Before I continue, I would like to mention a few more companies whose sponsorship of my journey has allowed me to make it this far.
In retrospect I wish I did not have problems with accepting money, as I am now stuck in Colombia and must find work. But these companies did allow me to purchase at a great discount, or have donated, some invaluable items, so that I could save that money for, you know, food, and stuff.



IMS gave me a great deal on their 10 gallon tank! It looks and feel ridiculously big, however it has been the number one icebreaker for me whenever I stop anywhere, as it, not my KLR, draws a crowd! I would also like to add that through all of my drops and the accident, the tank barely shows a scratch! Because it's a single piece of plastic there are no seams to crack and break upon impact. It's durability never ceases to amaze me! I'm also looking forward to not having to strap a million gallons of extra gas to the rear of my bike when I go to the high deserts of Chile and Argentina, or to Tierra del Fuego!



Grand Trunk donated a hammock! I know, it doesn't sound like much, but this is one of my favorite things to have. Not only is it comfy, extremely light and compact, but it also comes with a sewn in mosquito net!! This, my friends, is invaluable! I have enjoyed many beautiful nights cradled in this hammock, and awoke without the need to tear off my skin just to stop the itch from the bites of the millions of insects which hover in wait of human prey in Central and South America.


These guys have been rooting for me from day one. They donated a helmet cam, which, because it was not a GoPro, broke before I could get any good video. So if you have any electronic recycling, or asset management needs, these are the guys to call - not only because they were so good to me, but because they actually do a great job and offer the best price for the service.



These guys said, no, sorry we can't sponsor you right now, but here's a $500 motorcycle jacket. They may not be an official sponsor, but they deserve a shout like all the rest. And I don;t know what Andy, the owner, had been through to create a jacket like the Darien, but it must of been hairy 'cause this thing is built like a tank. Whenever I put it on I feel like I'm ready to ride into battle - and that's a good feeling to have from your protective gear!



Another great company who got on board in a heart beat. These guys sent me their best alarm, free of charge! It has a tilt sensor, a shock sensor, an ignition censor, a two-way pager so you can know what's happening even when out of hearing range... wow! And it works! A curious person tried to lift the cover from Georgia and the alarm got very upset - it was great!


And a very special shout out to Burbank Kawasaki, who helped me install all the great stuff from Happy-Trail and IMS, as well as giving me a tune up, and some great gear as well!

Have I been a bit short on photos friends? Well, allow me to remedy that...


Ending the crossing of the world's second biggest country


My steel horse was not meant for gravel, she's a city girl - but she did not let me down!


Lake Moraine, Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada, this side of Heaven


The milky flows of Alberta's rivers


Rivers of jade in Banff/Jasper


Nothing like approaching the mountains


The perfect end to a day in Vancouver


The Palouse, Washington State


Rising towers


Sunset in New Brunswick


Nothing more glorious than the Oregon coast


Ominous skies over the Great Lakes


Wild traffic in Alberta


I may not have my own home, but so many people have welcomed me into theirs... which sometimes is a 1970's trailer


Road Brothers in Glacier National Park, Montana


Unwelcomed encounters in Glacier


After a long day's ride in Vancouver


Forecast of a night of horror


We shared so much... including a heart attack from the grizzlies and moose


Yeah, we know...


Friends and Angels in Lethbridge


The leap - more than just a dive into Lake Superior


Glacier... just Glacier


Vancouver days


The Glacier Highway is a difficult road to ride - you have to stop every 15 seconds and just stare at the awesome beauty


America, the beautiful


Sitting on the dock of the bay, in Maine


Oh Canada


It had to end at some point - USA the Ride - Part I

This is why poor people don't write books that involve a lot of travel... financing this amount of time without work and only research for the book is insane - and apparently impossible.
Why am I saying this? Because I actually got a job offer in Medellin, but they cannot sponsor me for a visa. To find a reputable company who can sponsor you and pay you above minimum wage takes months, not the 2 weeks I have to do it. And I would have to stay here for at least a year for the contract and to save enough to continue.
On the bright side I met a Photographer and we did a photoshoot together, I didn't get paid, but there might be something there in the coming months. It felt so good to work professionally again! It's been 6 years since I have shot a model, but getting back in that saddle felt like I had never left it.
The City of Eternal Spring is not without it's daily dose of rain, but it is lovely, and sits in the midst of a thousand little villages and mountain road.

If any of you scallywags get the itch to come down to south America, whether for the roads, food or women, I know of a couple of places you could rent steeds around here, or come on your own... it looks like i'll be here for a while.

A taste of what I shot the other day

Before I continue, I thought another picture set would be in order... this is from the second part of the North America ride, this time with the KLR.
Sorry in advance for the crappy shots and bad organization, I'm still trying to learn this whole forum thing. By Mexico (next) I will have my shit together, promise!

First, the transformation of Georgia:

All shiny and skinny on the day I found her.


All weighed down and ready to cruise California


The first of many visits to the doctor - see my post about the doohikey. She looks so... empty and sad


Back together, overloaded, and ready to cross the Mexican border.
If you think that looks like a lot of weight, you are right. I dropped her so many times, just from not being able to find the perfect level of ground on which to stand her. It couldn't be angle up, nor could it be flat, nor could the angle be too downward, it had to be about 5% down grade going away from her left side, otherwise she would topple. Yeah, this is my first dual-sport


At the burn


Fire walking - I could literally feel my clothes starting to melt - good times


Made the cover of the Black Rock Yearbook!
I did not take too many shots while at Burning Man because I was too buys finding happiness - which I did. I wrote a little about it in my last post...


The road has done many things for me, my favorite being reuniting me with friends - this particular one I have know for 24 years


CAlifornia was full of reunions! This time two friends from Minnesota came over for a 1000 mile loop around California


A tree in Yosemite.


We look happy at Yosemite... but underneath those smiles are the remnants of a hard lesson learned - don't drink whiskey at 10,000ft.


Glacial lake with water temperature of 30 some degrees? No problem!
Umm... dude... where did my balls go?! Aah, no worries, they'll be back... they always come back.


Granite Flows


The secret spot along the PCH which I wrote about. Right off the road, but not a hint of car noise - only the ocean. Wish I could describe exactly where it is - it's literally one of the pull-offs, where you park your bike, walk to the wooden fence and look for a little path that will take you down the cliff a bit. Once below the level of the road, the rocks will block all the noise, and you can enjoy a and a pipe


The California coast


I have yet to find a road sign which makes me as happy is this (this type of sign - in Idaho, on route 12, there is one which says "Next 100 Miles")


Now, onto Mexico (and better pics )...

I’ve received many questions about what one packs for a motorcycle journey around the world. In reality it is only possible to partially pack for a continent. No matter how experienced a traveler you may be, the contents of your pack will always fluctuate the further you go on your trip. The following is a list of things I started with. Eventually, what was extraneous was tossed, and what was missing bought.

Packing list

Clothes
Boots (x1)
Sandals (x1)
Water Sneakers (x1)
Flip flops
Underwear (x5)
Socks (x4)
T-shirt (x2)
Sweater (x1)
Collared shirt (x1)
Tie
Vest
Long sleeve (x1)
Warm hat (x1)
Balaklava (x1)
Rain Shell (x1)
Down Jacket (x1)
Long underwear (x1)
Waterproof pants (x1)
Swim trunks (x1)
Bandana (x2)
Handkerchiefs (x2)

Hiking gear / gear
Emergency bag – survival kit
Poles
Backpack
Rain cover
Waterproof duffel
Compression sacks
Gaters
Watch
Cell phone
Leatherman
Knife (x2)
Gurkha
Knife sharpener
Headlamp
Gps / radio
Mp3 player
Headphones
Kindle
Sunglasses
saw
Camera
Camel back
Water filter
Water bottle
Whistle
Batteries
Survival book
Firestarter
Lighter/matches
Rope/harness
Compass
Flint
Magnifying glass
Zip-lock bags
Duct tape
Camping
Tent
Hammock
Sleeping bag
Sleeping pad
Inflatable Pillow

Cooking
Jetboil
Gas
Spoon/fork
Cup
Small pot
Tea filter
Tea
Salt/pepper
Emergency bars
Emergency freeze dry packs

Motorcycle
Jacket
Pants
Helmet
Gloves (x3)
Chain/lock
Cover
Alarm
Tire/tube repair kit
Tool kit
GPS
ROK straps/bungees
Spare: battery, chain/sprockets, tires, tubes, tires

Writing
Laptop
Notepad
Pen
Pencil
Voice recorder
Laptop bag

Smoking
Pipe (x2)
Tobacco
Lighter
Matches
Tamper
Cleaners
Stand

Medical
Aloe
Arnica
Tiger balm
Pain killer
Advil
Activated Charcoal
First aid kit
Antibiotic cream
Snake bike kit
Malaria pills
Diarrhea pills

Hygene / personal care
Towel
Soap
Deodorant
Toothbrush
Toothpaste
Scissors
File
Tweezers
Sunscreen
Lip balm
Wet wipes
Prep H
Cold sore medicine
Condoms
Razor/blades

Now, I know what some of you are thinking, "is this guy out of his mind?! An extra battery?!", and other thoughts to that effect. And, yes, you are right to think it, and yes I was crazy to bring it, along with a few other things which I did get rid of along the way. In fact I got rid of something or other every other week.

Mexico: First Days

I'm finally across the border! After endless delays due to mechanical issues and sponsors, I’m in the fabled land of Mexico.

The poverty is apparent the moment you cross the border. The people in the street, the men running back from a failed attempt to cross the border fence, the dilapidated houses, all came at the snap of a finger. Surely not everyone is poor, or at least not that poor, but the contrast came so quickly that it was hard to ignore.

The first thing I did when I got to Tijuana was drop Georgia, twice, both within 2 minutes. The second landed me in front of an oncoming car – which, thankfully decided not to prematurely terminate my journey, and life. Both times I was instantly surrounded by half a dozen men who helped me get my tires back on the pavement. though my leg was bleeding and Georgia’s engine flooded, I felt very welcomed in Mexico.

This latest drop further shook my confidence in being able to ride off-road,e specially when fully loaded. The bike is heavily laden, way too tall for me, with overly aggressive off-road tires – which make my ride unstable whenever there is a gust of wind or a change in pavement. I keep thinking of what I can get rid of, and still cannot bring myself to part with anything. It all seems vital, or at least tolerable. After all, my entire life is on the bike, there is a limit as to how little I can have. Right?

Within a couple of hours of arriving in Ensenada, Carmen, my host from couch surfing, and I, had dinner with her entire family. We then went dancing for 4 straight hours. The women were beautiful, the cheap and good, the music an excellent variety of cumbia, bachata, merengue, salsa, blues and punk. Carmen is a professional Arabic style dancer, so she knows how to move to say the least. It was the perfect way to start Mexico.




Wine Country
A few days later Carmen and I went to Mexican Wine country. The landscape reminded me a lot of northern Israel – boulder studded hills, dark green shrubs, and endless rows of olives and grapes.

Who would have thought that Mexico has delicious wines!? We began at the La Cetto winery, with the intention of visiting others…

The Tempranillo was not very good, the whites and rose’s were bland as well. However, the Petite Syrah was excellent – simple, dry, not a varied palate but very good in the flavors it had. The Bordeaux blend was off the charts! Cab, Merlot, Petite Verdot and Cab Franc. Dry and aromatic, juicy and fruity – but not jammy or sweet. It was a 2008 so still very young, but you could tell it will be an excellent wine in a few years. There was a little smoke, a little wood, some dried fruit – pronounced in a hearty palate and lots of cherry and plum at the top – extremely well balanced, nothing screamed over anything else. We then tried the straight cab, which was very good also – not on the same charts as my favorite Cali cabs, but very good indeed. The Nebiollo was also excellent – dark fruit, a little pepper, a little smoke, a rich, full mouth feel with a balanced dry finish.



We went on a small tour with two other visitors, cousins from far flung parts of Mexico. This turned into a multi-hour festival. After trying the first few wines, Carmen’s friend came with the special wines that are not normally available for tasting (the blend and Cab mentioned above), and we proceeded to talk and taste for a while. Then the two cousins invited us to drink a bottle of the Petite Sirah. A bottle turned into two, with bread, aged cheese, olive oil and olives. We sat for hours talking and laughing on the veranda outside the tasting room. A famous Mexican singer, Reyli, came by for a few toasts, photos and insults. Mexico just kept getting better and better!




Celebrating Life
We spent the following night at a ranch, about an hour outside of Ensenada. In the mountains there are no lights, the nearest Pueblito has not more than 100 residents, which brought a snugness to this gathering of strangers. Olive oil and olives, cheese, bread and wine – all made on the ranch – were served on tables normally used to feed the many ranch workers. There were a few bare bulbs giving us light, and we sat close to each other for warmth. In this tiny space there were two groups of musicians, neither professional, just people who knew how to sing and how to play. Something about the moment reminded me of Russia – the tiny table in the tiny apartment with 2 dozen people miraculously fitting in, singing, reading poetry, laughing. It is the best part of Russia, and it felt so good to experience it in Mexico. Upon request (which I receive every time people find out I am from Russia), I sang Katyusha (accompanied by a northern Mexican guitarist – the contrast was not lost on anyone) and gave a few steps from a Kozachok.

My birthday followed a few days later, with 3 nights of parties. Carmen threw a party for me at her mother’s house. We knew each other for not more than a week, and yet I found myself surrounded by family. They cooked and baked and decorated the yard. One of the brothers came with band mates to sing for us; the girls wore traditional outfits. We sang into the wee hours, full of delicious food, hibiscus water, cake and joy.



My streak of nights dancing for more than 3 hours began on my first night in Mexico, went right on through my birthday, and continues to this day. On the first night of my birthday Fabricio, my second host, and I went to hear a Cuban salsa group. I was lucky enough to be snatched up by a girl with whom I could dance as though we had been partners forever. Though I still make the occasional mis-steps and know only a few spins, we tore up the floor! What a difference it makes to dance with someone for whom dancing is as natural as breathing. When the band found out it was my birthday (and that I was a Ruskie), they got the whole place to sing me happy birthday, after which I had to return the favor by showing some Russian dance moves and teaching them a few words.



The very next day I went out with all of my hosts and we spent another night dancing until the sun came up. Salsa and Cumbia, Irish and Jewish and Russian, we threw it all down. I was plied with as though I were in Russia – in that Mexican’s understand the word “No” about as well as Russians. By the time we got to the next bar, I was more light footed than usual, but at last I was confronted with a dance I just could not pick up. I don’t remember the name, but it is typical of northern Mexico.


With a trip to a 4000 acre ranch which stretches from mountain to sea, I concluded my stay in Ensenada. It was a time of passion and learning, singing, dancing, eating and the setting up for an unforgettable trek through the incredibly varied places and peoples of Mexico.

How I wish I had a couple of GoPros so you guys could witness the hairy soup through which I drive every day!
Thank god for my 7 years of New York training - which prepared me for most of the worst I have been through. Georgia is easily 2-3 times bigger than most bikes and scooters on the road here, but I go where they go, I squeeze through places which bring looks of shock and awe when they catch up and pull up next to me at a light
Posting the first story from Mexico made me think of the fact that I have spent half of my miles riding between lanes, ever since crossing the border.

28 months on the road today!!

42,000km, 11 countries, 2 continents, 2 steeds, too many brushes with death, too many sicknesses... but lots of friends and laughter and love!

Baja Riding

Mechanical Difficulties – Natures Rewards
The day I decided to set out after 2 wonderful weeks in Ensenada, I discovered my bike was leaking gas. As horrible as it was to find out yet another thing had gone wrong, at least I was in good company. A little research revealed that there was something stuck in the carb – probably a grain of sand from one of the times I had dropped Georgia in the mountains. With no other choice Fabricio and I got to work taking the bike apart. As usual nothing went smoothly: from not having the right size tools, to parts not fitting correctly. Eventually we prevailed in removing the carb, taking it apart, cleaning it, putting it back together and putting Georgia back into one piece. It took only a few hours all together, but it was already too late for me to leave that day. Delayed again.



It seems from the very start of this journey there has been something keeping me from leaving when I wanted to, and always something going on with the bike. For a machine that is so highly reviewed as the standard for long distance adventure travel, it has surely behaved like a finicky little bitch from day one. To say nothing of the fact that she is too tall for me – a confidence shattering reminder every time I drop her (7 times now). The weight is not helping, and yet I am not sure what I could possibly remove from my luggage. I need the mechanical extras and tools. I have few clothes. The camping and hiking gear does way a ton, but I cannot be sure to always have a place to stay, nor can I afford to rent things every time I want to go up a mountain. At the same time the weight is killing me. To top it all off, this thumper (my first) vibrates so much that my hands feel as though I am still riding hours after I have dismounted.


But that was all during the day. That night, however, I was rewarded with a beautiful spot along the coast on which to set up my tent. I was riding by as the sun was starting to set and noticed a truck with a camper top parked far down by the shore. There was something “Rocinante-esque” about the way it looked, so I turned around and headed into a development site (with a few model houses and a sales office). There was a sign which read “Beach Access, which I followed away from the homes and towards the truck. The guy standing in the sales office booth came out hopefully, but we just exchanged waves and I drove on. I spent the night in the pleasant company of a guy from Alaska, who comes down to the Baja every year to surf and escape the perpetual dark of the northern winter. He offered to share his food, and I my tea, and we passed a pleasant evening chatting, eating, listening to the waves and watching a billion stars slowly emerge around the grand arch of the Milky Way.



I stayed up for a few hours after dark and received the gift of a shooting star. The weather was perfect, the ocean was calm and

steady, the stars bright and cheerful. And I was lulled to sleep by the sound of lapping waves.

The good omen of the shooting star, however, was only good for the night…


In the Middle of Nowhere
I woke up to the sound of the ocean; herons migrating south, pelicans surfing the waves. It was an easy morning of waiting for the dew to dry off the tent. I set off on Highway 1 by 10:30am to a bright day, with a thick marine layer to the west and a wispy fog to the east. Exactly 15 minutes later the day turned gray when I ran out of gas in the middle of the desert. My so called 10 gallon expedition tank with internal pump which is supposed to bring up all the gas from the nether reaches of its hold, decided it would not bring up said gas and I puttered to a stop in the middle of nowhere. I could see gas in the tank! It was far from empty, but the pump was not bringing the gas up. I pulled onto a flat, sandy patch on the side of the road. The GPS, in a rare moment of accuracy, said there was a gas station just 18 kilometers to the south.



The first 10 cars did not stop for me. Considering there is not much traffic, this was very disheartening, and the clock on daylight was ticking. Finally a nice man pulled over and took me down through the military checkpoint and onto the gas station. There, they wanted 100 pesos for a 1 gallon jerry can, but when I looked doubtful the attendant went over to the trash pile and found an old anti-freeze jug to use instead. Another reason to love Mexico!

Finding a ride back to my bike proved even more difficult. Miguel was trying to do the same, so we decided to combine our fortunes and share a ride – if anyone would ever stop. Dozens of trucks and cars drove past as my concern began to grow: not only was daylight slipping away, but Georgia was sitting on the side of the road with no one watching her or my stuff strapped to the back. It is not hard to get a motorcycle onto the back of a truck and make it disappear forever.


Miguel and I eventually found a ride, he to San Quintin, and I to KM 37 south of the town. By the time I gave Georgia a drink and crossed the military check point for the 3rd time, it was past 1pm. That left me very little time to ride the 350 km I needed to get to the next big town.


The way to Guerrero Negro, along Highway 1, lies through a national park of surreal constitution. A dozen varieties of cactus grow here, in some places so many that it looks like a forest. One beautiful variety looks like a long wispy stalk, from which delicate, thyme looking, stems and petals grow. Another is the grand Cardon cactus which rises to over 60 ft. Add to that about 500 more varieties of bush, tree, shrub and weed, as well as a plethora of wild life. The surreal ride turned majestic as the western sky lit up, as if ignited, while the eastern took on a mellow pink hue with a complete double rainbow. The cacti became silhouettes as the sun broke through the clouds to cast its burning beam over the expanse of the desert. And so, captivated by the fierce glow of the west, the gentle pink fluffies of the east with the rainbow frame, and boulder strewn cactus forests, I ran out of light before making it to Guerrero Negro.



I made my way to the nearest pueblito and began looking for a place for my tent. I found a lot on which stood a tiny house, attached to what could have been a motel, with some trees and bushes closed in by a fence. It did not look like anyone was home, and I was too tired too look any further, so I pitched my tent there and then.

I laid in my tent for a long time, praying that the proprietor did not have vicious dogs and that no snake or scorpion would find its way into one of Georgia’s crevasses or a briefly unattended article of clothing.




Desert Storms
I awoke in the desert no worse for wear, but lacking of sleep. Butterflies and vultures; a lizard doing push-ups in the sun; rustling palms in the wind which was fiercely blowing away the night’s rain. And then a fluttering ball of bright orange singing in the baby blue of the morning. In the night it rained and my tent decided to longer be waterproof; the fear of the family dog and of being disturbed for camping on someone’s property did not let me rest either. I fell asleep only at day break, but within a couple of hours the rain had turned to high wind, and sand was whipping the tent and covering everything inside and out.

Packing in a sandstorm is not fun, neither is driving through one. By the time I got to Guerrero Negro it was clear that rain was coming again to replace the blowing sand. I was stuck with a choice of whether to stay in a town in which I have nothing to do and have no place to stay (since I cannot afford a hotel on my own), or to brave the tropical storm and ride east through the desert.
I decided on the latter.
Though I do not recommend anyone do this, and though I was in the middle of nowhere, mostly alone, so if anything went wrong I would be quite ****ed, I was gifted vistas that come to the desert only once every few years:

Silhouetted monoliths floating through misty cactus forests. A green desert – almost lush, with endless bushes and cacti rising off beyond the horizon. At one point flat and dry and empty, then all at once, mountainous with an endless sea of cacti where a minute before there was nothing. The stitch of the road running to the end of the earth, at times flat, at others a wavy ribbon of black in a sea of brown and yellow.

Cacti posing as candelabras, or vases with full bouquets; giant single pricks and motherly stalks with tiny offspring clinging to their cores; gesticulating human-like figures – at times exclaiming or dancing, waving and trying desperately to be understood without words, at others bowed with shame or sinking to rest after a valiant battle against the unforgiving sun; young and vibrant green; grey and dying – limb or whole, dry like their home, waiting to become dust again.

From the dust and sand, to the whipping rain of the tropical storm, from the dry and mutinous desert to an endless oasis of green grasses and palms, to the calm lapping of the Sea of Cortez: A ride I will not soon forget.

With Job prospects meek in Medellin, I'm off to Bogota!
Looking forward to mountain riding and meeting some of the great bikers there!

From Desert To Sea
I ‘m staying with Hiram, whom I met in Jerusalem, in a hostel, earlier this year. His invitation to stay with him in La Paz was not an empty one. Not only have I been sleeping in a bed and eating delicious food, my days have been filled with great conversation and learning about much of Mexican culture, politics and history. To cap it off he set me up with a snorkeling tour to Isla Espiritu Santo!



In the morning we set off in a skiff over water so clear that the bottom could be seen at a depth of over a hundred feet! Yannick, a fellow couch surfer I met on my first night in La Paz, was there. Yannick is a Frenchman who married a Mexican girl, lives in Monterrey and teaches French half of the year in Martinique – a long lost brother! We spent yesterday at the beach, swimming in warm clear water and drinking – we were basically a Corona commercial (a couple of French girls helped).



Whether on a motorcycle or boat, all I need is some wind in my face to be happy. Snorkeling, swimming with sea lions and eating fresh ceviche, help too.
Our first stop was snorkeling around some corral near Isla Espiritu Santo – a volcanic, UNESCO protected island off the coast of La Paz. Perfect, calm water; schools of fish and solitary crustaceans; a living reef; birds diving for their lunch; the water a wide palate of greens and blues. Afterwards we went to the sea lion colony on the island. Hundreds and hundreds of sea lions, swimming, sunning, playing, fighting, singing, grunting and roaring (perhaps even belching). Seeing the 600lbs bulls is a little off-putting, but they never came over to interrupt our fun. The babies, teenagers and even older males and females swam with and around us. Some played with each other, others played with us. There is an indescribable magic about a wild animal acknowledging your presence and taking a part in your life, if only for a short time.
After hours of snorkeling, swimming and discovering tunnels and caves, we went to another island for fresh ceviche and some relaxation. The ride back to mainland was tinted with the warm glow of the setting sun, over a now denim blue sea.

It’s getting hard to keep up with so many excellent days. Other than a couple of days of tough weather in the desert, so far, Mexico has been one endless smile.

There is, however, a new development which is disturbing to say the least: my left hand feels like it is tingling, vibrating, or slightly numb. This sensation is normal after many hours of riding, but usually passes within a couple of hours. It has now been a few days during which I have not ridden for more than an hour, and the sensation has not gone away. I’m not really sure what I can do. I don’t want to spend money on a doctor who will tell me that he doesn’t know why this is happening and just tell me what I already know: lay off the bike for some time. Nor am I willing to do that.



I ended Baja by crossing on the ferry with a number of other riders, one of whom I met in a café and with whom I rode for a few days hence. We managed to get a cabin on the ferry which made the 16 hour crossing of the Sea of Cortez and the Tropic of Cancer so much easier. We talked, drank , and watched the sun set over the mountainous horizon of the Baja. Some people sat inside, others spread out blankets on deck and sipped on what seemed to be an endless amount of until the sea lulled them to a starry sleep. It was like a mini cruise: with provided meals, a movie in the main salon, a crossing of a sea, and entertainment provided by the tambourine man.

Sorry to hear that you are having trouble with your KLR. I really enjoy mine. In fact, I liked my first one so much I bought a second. I live in Kyrgyzstan and enjoy riding through the mountains. Our roads are trashed and a street bike is murder to ride here. The KLR has so little electronics it makes it real easy to work on. The hardest thing for me here with my bikes is keeping drunk, idiots, and cows out of the way. Been hit by a drunk driver, had a lot of trouble with just plain idiots, and one black cow in the middle of the dark night.

Great r\r and good photos. Keep riding and updating. If you get to Kyrgyzstan look me up. If you need parts for the KLR I will probably have it. Plus I have a good place to work on it. :

Mac

__________________
Every day with the Lord is an ADVENTURE

Thanks Mac!!
I know how you feel about the animals... after my episode returning from Glacier National Park - I had hallucinations for more than a year that every shadow on the side of the road is an animal waiting to jump out at me!

It will take me some time to get to where you are, but in a few years we will go for a ride for sure - though I'm pretty sure I will have a different bike by then