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A Quick Description of BMW's Bike Names
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Visit to San Felipe, BC Words by Darryl Richman, Pictures by Darryl, Fronch, Magwa and Jeff Usually I go to the Internet BMW Riders (IBMWR) Death Valley Daze campout in January. But this year, a few of the Village Idiots (VI) proposed a ride to San Felipe on the same weekend. San Felipe is on the northern coast of the Gulf of California.
The five of us — Duner, Jeff, the golddust twins Magwa and Fronch, and myself — met at a motel in Culver City (a suburb of LA) to start the ride. It was cold, overcast, and occasionally drizzly, and the usual SoCal traffic prevaled. We crossed over the border at Tecate. National highway 2 took us to Mexicali. The rest stops weren't as spacious as in the US, but the traffic was a lot lighter. Although most of the trip was pretty straight, there was a section of the toll road down to Mexicali that was great fun. Although I hadn't realized it, along the border we had been at about 5,000 feet, and we lost that altitude in several miles of fast sweepers going down La Rumerosa grade. Much faster than the 80 km/h speed limit. At the bottom it straightened out, and just as we were preparing to pass another car, the federales jumped out from behind a truck and pulled him over. In Mexicali we stopped for a quick lunch at a taco cart beside the road, selected at random. It was a la carte, al fresco dining. And excellent! We filled up in town and then began the 2 hour slog down to San Felipe. There's not a lot out there. But the weather did get better. But we did get closer to the gulf. As we got near to our destination, there were miles of "resorts" along the beach, proclaimed by isolated gateways surrounding dirt tracks that led towards the water. Finally we made it to our hotel and checked in. Then we went upstairs to the bar. Eventually, dinner. How about this place?
That last picture is of a plate of aguachile that Duner and I had. Chilled cooked shrimp in a spicy red chile "water". Tasty, and not really that hot, but it scared off the rest. The next morning dawned bright and sunny and warm. I was out at 6:30 and had two mochas before I met the other Idiots at a restaurant down the block from our motel for breakfast.
San Felipe is a quiet place, at least when it isn't spring break. Besides the party spots filling the last two streets before the ocean, there's the real town behind it and a couple miles further down the road is a working port. We decided to wander over there to see it.
There was a boat unloading its catch. Although it didn't seem very organized, it didn't take very long to weigh, crate and load the fish into a semi-trailer half full of ice.
There were also some small boats.
...which were infested with pelicans.
After getting bored at the port, we rode back to town for lunch. On the way, our lawyer advised us we had to take a photo op.
Town was pretty quiet, too.
Actually, San Felipe is in a pretty spot. It has a lighthouse... and a Light House. I'm sure it's packed at spring break.
But in the middle of January, it's quiet and pleasant. Just you... and the birds.
Except for this doofus, who managed to drive directly into the only ditch within 50 feet of getting onto the beach.
For some of us, a little more lounging was in order. Jeff and Fronch decided to go for a ride.
Then, dinner. Where shall we go? I dunno. Ok, let's eat at the same place as last night, the food there was good. But first, a toast.
Duner wanted some clams. After ordering, he was informed that they were out. But a couple minutes later, a beat up Chevy pulled up and the guy that got out took some bags up to the proprietors. Suddenly, there were clams! After dinner most of us walked around town, but Duner stopped in at a bar. It turned out to have off site betting, too. Saturday morning, another beautiful day. But, alas, time to say hasta la vista to Old Mexico. Besides, the offroad crowd was moving into our motel.
About 20 miles before we got to Mexicali, while we were stopped for a potty break, Magwa mentioned that his battery light was on. This is a bad thing generally, and we all agreed to watch for him. Naturally, in the middle of the traffic of Mexicali, he suddenly pulled over into a driveway—his motor had quit. The driveway was to a used car lot, and the proprietors seemed unconcerned by our troop occupying some unused space. Off came the front cover, and the problem was clear: the alternator belt was toast.
The battery was extricated and taken down the street to a battery shop, which put it on the charger for a couple hours. Then Magwa got a ride from one of the salesmen to a nearby auto parts store where he got a belt that looked similar. But not close enough. So then he went to another one and got exactly the right one, for about $3. Of course, with 3 assistants (Duner having already fled for the USofA), it was repaired in a thrice. The border crossing was slow, but eventually we made it across. Then we skirted well east of the greater Southern California megalopolis as long as possible, through Brawley and Palm Desert before getting on I-10 at dusk and heading back to Culver City. Lots more pictures are available for viewing. |
