It’s official, California made us soft. Mexico is kicking our butts. Really, our butts haven’t hurt this bad since Texas. We decided to stay on Route 3 and head back into Baja’s mountainous desert interior, rather than take the busy Rt 1. Today was almost entirely uphill. We’re up around 4000 feet after being at sea level yesterday (and for the past 2 months). For a bonus, Mother Nature threw in a headwind just to make sure we knew we weren’t in California anymore. We miss the days of easy riding, tailwinds, and pretty rocks in the water.
Biking in the desert is hard work. We’re back to carrying 1-2 days worth of water, never knowing when we’ll be able to get more. The days are hot. We’re constantly scanning the roadside for a shade tree or a rock to hide behind. Then when the sun sets, the temperature plummets and sends us diving into our sleeping bags for the night.
And it’s SO LONELY out here! It’s been a long time since we rode in such isolation. Aside from the few passing vehicles, the only people we came across was a military checkpoint out in the middle of nowhere. I think they were looking for drugs. They searched one of Scott’s bags, but not mine. Apparently he fits a profile? They became bored and waved us through after finding nothing more than toothpaste & brushes, floss, fluoride, vitamins, our camp stove and a bag of oatmeal. Apparently anyone that concerned with dental hygiene and their health is probably not smuggling kilos of drugs.