South Of The Border And More: 2/14/-2/15 The Cape

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave".

Leaving this hotel whose history transported us to another era was difficult. But breakfast was just around the corner, and from the clientele there, it appears many others have problems checking out of Santo Todos. We sat surrounded by Ex-pats ironically grousing about the influx of American tourists. The road to the cafe was a trip in itself, through dirt side streets, past flower bedecked houses. One of our new "friends" came complete with dog, tricked out KLR with a basket for his canine buddy, and a helmet with horns. The people you meet!

After breakfast we circled back past the Hotel California and I was beginning to believe we could never leave! But we passed it by and headed down the Pacific Coast to Cabos, the Cape.

The deep blue of the Pacific paralleled us and hot sun belied the end of the day. We were stopped at one of the many military check points where we cowered under the power of the Federales while children played in the background. By the time we leave Mexico, I hope I will be used to this.

As we approached Cabo San Lucas, the damages from hurricane Odile that devastated this vacation destination in September were apparent. Most hotels had been rebuilt, but smaller structures remained in splinters. A huge McDonalds remained standing, but damaged, eerily vacant amid the rebuilding.

Anxious to see this touted vacation spot, I believe our ride through town did not do it justice. Tacky shops, gentlemen clubs and bars crowded the busy streets. Down, closer to the ocean, stood the behemoth resorts, their gates closed to the bustle of the town. As we rounded the cape toward San José del Cabo, the devastation continued.

North on Route 1, we cut off the rest of the cape ( there are not many rideable roads here) and headed East to Buena Vista. The skies began to darken for the first time on this trip. Ugly clouds built on the horizon and we rode through areas that had just experienced a deluge. Rain suits on and we experienced approximately five minutes of weather. Luckily, that was the end of it, even though the skies still were loaded with rain.

A lonely monument in the middle of the desert proclaimed that we were on the Tropic of Cancer. Standing on this major circle of latitude grounded us to this planet and gave us a renewed sense of place.

Reaching the calmer waters of the uncommonly blue Gulf of California, the sun gave us short measure to Las Palmas where we relaxed by the ocean for two days. A raucous patio party at night and relaxing pool time the next day gave us respite from the daily settling in and packing up of any tour. A rainy afternoon saw us all hanging in the pool bar where I fell in love with the Mexican Michelada, a spicy Clamato and beer libation.

Thrust out in the ocean, BCS is a prime target for hurricanes and other natural disasters. The destruction that we witnessed was critical, more so for the impoverished areas that did not have the money and impetus of the tourist trade to rebuild. Paradise does not come unflawed.