VICARIOUS | New Roads: Fire Road Through The Desert

Story | Matthew Neundorf

Photography | Matthew Neundorf & Drew Ruiz

Do you remember your first shot of tequila? How it singed your taste buds and made you gasp? How, upon exhale, those savoury elements of smoke and mid-grade gasoline mixed with the faint sweetness of agave in your nostrils? How it felt like equal parts accomplishment and torture to keep that splash of bar-rail turpentine down? How you immediately ordered another?

Dropping into Tijuana from San Diego for the first time churns up anxiety in the same way. It’s an effortless affair that won’t hurt a bit but I don’t know that yet.

Right now, astride the Kawasaki KLR650 thumping below me, I’m scared. I’m worried about border patrol, built walls, imaginary lines on map and the repercussions of hasty action and miscommunications. Instead I’m greeted with glances cast elsewhere and total indifference. Pero no te preocupes, amigo — San Ysidro may be the world’s busiest land border crossing, but when you’re pointed south, nobody seems to care — Esto es baja!

There are few places on this continent that stir a rider’s spirit of adventure as quickly as the Mexican peninsula of Baja. The people, the culture, the terrain, the food. It’s one of those few places that, once you’re there, feels as familiar as it does foreign and as welcoming as it is intimidating. Sadly, constant coverage of cartel combat and the lure of safety and indulgence promised by allinclusive escapes elsewhere means most of us have only tasted its salted rim. And that’s just a shame.

Since 1962, when Dave Ekins was tapped by Honda to test their CL72 Scrambler, the lands of the Baja 1000 have become a bucket-list destination for riders of all disciplines. Back then the terrain along Highway 1 was a healthy dose of all things the term “highway” doesn’t connote. Nowadays though, riders can pick their poison and either stick to the mostly paved “1” and enjoy both coastal and mountainous interior scenery or they can pop off into a plethora of other gnarly routes, most of which remain a part of the modern Baja 1000 race. I’ve explored both options — once on that KLR and once on an Indian Scout — and trust me when I say, neither disappoints.

After meandering along the coast, the small town of Rosarito, just south of Tijuana offered me calm respite and immediate immersion into the contrast that exists when walls of brick and steel mark the dotted lines maps. Where glimmers of the North America I’m used to can still be seen in Tijuana, they never existed here. I nose my bike into a spot on the side of the road and duck my head into Tapanco, an excellent little restaurant, where I’m rewarded with thick, delicious coffee and an early reminder that those romantic notions I’ve had swimming in my head about this country remain true.

Ensenada, the starting line (and sometimes finish) for the modern Baja 1000 race, lies just an hour south and is a must regardless of riding style. It greets with the buzz of a populous tourist trap but beyond the coastal resorts, KFC’s and MickeyD’s there are plenty of local treasures to be found. Shacking up somewhere in town is never a bad idea.

Years ago, Anthony Bourdain shined his light on La Guerrerense, a world-class Enseneda food cart that has now grown into a bustling brick-and-mortar shop. The proprietor, Sabina Bandera, is busy behind the counter cranking out caught-just-minutes-ago-fresh seafood tostadas with the help of her daughter.

Opt for the sea urchin and clam — it’s Sabina’s most famous dish for a reason. And, if you ask nicely, Sabina and her daughter with sit down and share a sizeable shot of smoky Oaxacan mezcal with you as a digestive.

With a belly full of happiness and just a hint of a buzz, I head to Hussong’s, Mexico’s oldest cantina and the alleged birthplace of the Margherita. Hussong’s has been around since 1892 and the story behind its inception sounds fittng. I doubt much has really changed behind its swinging saloon doors except the amount of debauchery it’s walls have soaked up over the years. Buckets of cerveza land on the table and live music rarely feel this impactful.

Heading out the next morning, I’m curling around to southern end of Bahía de todos los santos, to check out La Bufadora — “the blowhole”. It proves to be a popular spot for the selfie crowd but I take the opportunity to load up some supplies from their main-street market. I’ll be leaving roads behind me for the rest of the day, so a full hydration pack and some quick hits of sugar are a must. My ultimate destination is a blip on the GPS that sits in the literal middle of nowhere, Mike’s Sky Rancho.

If you look for Mike’s on TripAdvisor, you won’t find anything. This legendary destination that lies along the Baja 1000 route has served as a checkpoint for the race multiple times, is a haven for off-road riders. I can’t recommend plotting a course here highly enough. A night’s stay provides two hots, a clean cot, a refreshing pool, a bar brimming with motorcycle history and the coldest, most refreshing Pacifico Clara you will ever drink. The only tricky part is getting there.

There are many ways to approach the mythical Mike’s, ranging from a sandy fire road to an expert’s only race route. It pays to do some research or at least evaluate you’re riding abilities before making this choice as conditions can be punishing and help isn’t exactly a stone’s throw away. Cell service won’t save you either, so make sure you or one of your group ride with a Spot device or a Sat-Phone. Tools, tubes and an extra jug of fuel are a good idea too.

After permissibly peeling back a barbed-wire fence to gain access to some private land, the terrain quickly changes from manicured dirt to rutted, washed-out cattle tracks that could easily pass for Martian territory. There are signs posted along the way to keep wheels moving in the right direction and, handily, some speak of which tine would be easier on both bike and body, at various forks.

Running through the “easier” Northern route, its punishments were still sizeable but rewarded with spectacular views. As with all riding of this sort, the landscape and surroundings themselves become a series of memories tattooed onto my temporal lobe.

The sheer volume of untouched countryside that surrounds Mike’s, makes this chunk of the Earth precious and rare. The rocky undulations carved into its crust are more than challenging enough for veteran off-roaders while still offering some easier lines for those less familiar. Of course, you have to be able to spot the simpler routes and that isn’t always easy. Be prepared to swallow some pride with each gulp of water when stopped and remember to lift with your legs when you pick up your bike, each and every time. I had to tap into energy reserves I didn’t even know existed and, were it not for some help from others in my group, may still be out there. Which, honestly, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.