The road north of Acapulco proved to be excellent and a real treat to ride. Above Manzinilla in particular it was excellent with a good surface as it wound its way by the coast. At Mazatlan we caught the ferry for LA Paz on the Baja Peninsula. As ever there is always a magic about rolling up to a ferry on a bike. While we waited for the ferry to leave another group of bikes arrived. Andy on a K1200RS and Joe on a Ducati along with two other friends on Harleys were on their way back to the States after having toured northern Mexico. Over the course of the next few days on the ship and up the Baja our paths crossed many times and we had some enjoyable chats.
The overnight ferry crossing across the Sea of Cortez was a very relaxing affair as we sailed across a calm sea in a late afternoon sun reading on deck and just kicking back. Bob even spotted a whale at one stage, but then again he was always observant as on another occasion he saw a tarantula on the road up from Acapulco which neither John nor I noticed anything. Landing in La Paz early the next morning we headed north that day with Loreto, the old capital of California as our destination. The southern half of the peninsula is far more picturesque and dramatic than the northern half. As we headed north we passed beautiful coves and many of these were populated by snowbirds. These are Americans who have sold their houses and bought camper vans and now spend the year following the good weather. To call these vehicles camper vans, however, is not to do them justice. They are literally bigger than buses and have every imaginable convenience. They tow equally dear vehicles and boats behind them and must cost in many cases over a quarter of a million all told. San Ignatio is perhaps the most beautiful of the missionary churches that are all over California, surrounded as it is by an oasis of trees in a desert landscape. The terrain here is quintessential Indian landscape as we see it on the cowboy films with cacti and mountains and scrub land. Cativana is the traditional dividing point of the two halves of the peninsula and as there is no stops for a long distance past it we called into the only hotel there for the night. Because of the popularity of this area with bikers from the states it was virtually full of various biking groups from Pancho Villa Tours to various numbers of friends. A very affluent place it turned out to be a great over night stay among fellow souls.

While unloading my bike outside the hotel,I was approached by an exceptionally nice man who was in a group of seven bikers. Dave who was a very young 70 was down there with his friends for the week. He asked us if we would join them for dinner and we had a great evening over the meal. All of these men were interesting individuals, with years of experience on bikes and they insisted on paying for our meal. We all headed north the following day as there was a storm promised for L.A. that night. Arriving at the border crossing of Tijuana, the number of people crossing was incredible. Filtering through the cars Bob and John were waved in without having to get their passports stamped, while I was at a different gate and had to get mine stamped. It struck us a strange that with all the fears of terrorists that it was so easy to get into the country. At any rate we had now arrived there and as it was now too late to make L.A. we decided to pull in at San Diego.