South Of The Border And More: 2/19/15 Winding Down

Catapulted into the conclusion of our Mexican adventure, dazed from the rapid-fire assault of unique experiences, I felt a sadness as we left Catavina.

Border bound, we mounted up and rode out into the desert. Never far from the Pacific, the air stayed chilled for most of the day. Cactus and ruler straight roads were our companions. The plastic-dispensed roadside gas barely skidded us into the next spot of civilization, El Rosario. After our bikes quenched their thirst, we motored to an iconic site. Mama Espinoza's is "world famous" for its lobster tacos and as a checkpoint for the Baja 1000. The interior is plastered with memorabilia, machines and autographs from the races and racers of past years. This off-road desert race is held every November and bikes, dune buggies, cars and trucks run the rugged terrain from La Paz to Ensenada. And here we sat, drinking coffee and gazing at the mosaic of race artifacts, in this very small restaurant that is a Baja legend.

Riding into a verdant agricultural area, Jules got his farmer fix that he has been missing. Thousands of acres of strawberries, grapes, cactus, and peppers lined the road. Beautifully manicured fields with ultra straight rows that ran to infinity hinted at high tech farming. Big names in produce, such as Driscoll and Dole, sported huge packing facilities at intervals on our route. Produce laden trucks swarmed like bees. This is the hub of Mexican-American produce, and it was impressive.

A different Mexico emerged the closer we neared the border. Crowded streets, poverty and litter ride a wave that collects more and more debris as it washes up to the shore of the US. Drowning in noise, traffic and a sensory overload, we wound our way into Ensenada. The pervasive street sweepers that we have seen throughout Mexico worked fruitlessly next to urban blight.

Flying up from the destitution and noise, we landed at our impossibly luxurious hotel, poised on the fault line of poverty and affluence, overlooking a marina glutted with huge yachts and sailboats. Swallowing the not too bitter pill of being on the better side of this equation, we settled in, drinking wine while watching the boats sail in and out.

An evening out on this raucous town took us to Hussong's Cantina, the oldest cantina in BC and allegedly the birthplace of the Marguerita. So, Margueritas and peanuts ( shells thrown on the floor) were the order of the night. Wandering the streets, we got a full measure and a new view of Ensenada.

Tomorrow we cross back into our home country. Into another world. We will be able to drink the water and flush paper down the toilets. Maybe we can get a meal without beans. I doubt whether the Margueritas will ever taste the same.

I feel a loss at turning my back to our southern neighbor. Mexico has been good to us and the myriad of amazing rides, experiences, tastes, and friendships found will travel with us over the border and into the fabric of our lives.