Baja Divide - Day 3 • El Compadre to Ojos Negros
With the short days and cold nights, I’m forced to spend nearly 12 hours each night nestled in my sleeping bag. Last night, I managed to stay warm, though it took a long time for my feet to stop aching from the chill. My Therm-a-Rest has a small leak, so I had to refill it in the middle of the night. I turned from side to side, vivid dreams punctuating the restless hours, until I finally woke with the first light.
Packing up was slow in the cold morning air. Thankfully, my water bottles hadn’t frozen overnight, but the humidity inside the tent had left it damp. Rolling it up was unpleasant. The compression bags and Voilé straps were a struggle for my cold fingers. After lubing my chain, I fueled up with a granola bar and water mixed with an energy tablet. The silence around me was profound, broken only by the occasional hum of jets out of San Diego and the chirping of flocks of birds. I was camped near a grove of oak trees, surrounded by bushes and a maze of gopher tunnels.
As I ate, a red SUV with Colorado plates rolled past on the dirt track, the only sign of life I’d seen so far. After half a mile of pedaling, the route joined another dirt road, and the climbing began again.
After 30 minutes, I had to stop and shed my jacket as the effort and the rising sun warmed me. By 8:20 AM, I reached the top of the first climb. The sun, now at a low but warm angle, illuminated a large ranch gate to my right. In the distance, I could just make out powerlines and the glint of cars and buildings far off-route.
The path took me through groves of towering oak trees and past a small stream, its pools of water glistening in the sunlight. With 2.5 liters of water still in my bottles, I decided against filtering more.
The road deteriorated into a washed-out surface, making for slow, challenging riding. Then came a sandy stretch that bogged me down completely. I’d been following a set of wide bicycle tire tracks, and even their rider had been forced to hike-a-bike through the worst patches of sand.
Eventually, I passed a large cattle ranch and turned onto a wider, scraped dirt road. The peace of the morning was soon shattered by the roar of motorcycles kicking up dust as they sped past me. Then, a torrent of dune buggies thundered by, filling the air with thick clouds of dust that obscured my vision. Watching their trails, I could trace the winding route up to the next pass.
I stopped under a tree to remove my leg warmers and long-sleeve shirt, applying sunscreen to my exposed skin as a convoy of 4x4s rumbled by. Soon after, I spotted a sign for Neji, a small settlement 5 km off the route. The 4,700-foot pass—the highest point on the Baja Divide route—lay between me and Ojos Negros. By 9:30 AM, I had only covered 8 miles.
The sand continued to slow me down, so I stopped to let air out of my tires for better traction. The climb was unrelenting, and the loose sand made progress even more frustrating. I paused under an oak tree to eat another granola bar, trying to gather energy for the difficult grades ahead.
At last, I reached Pete’s Café and Campsite. It had been my intended stop the previous night, but I hadn’t made it in time. Pete, originally from San Diego, greeted me with a friendly smile and offered me cold, filtered water. His wife prepared several egg burritos with excellent hot sauce. As I recharged my devices and uploaded the previous day’s report, Pete mentioned other riders ahead of me and a couple trailing behind.
He complained about the dune buggies, warning me to stay alert as they’d be returning after a day of drinking. But he reassured me that the worst sections of the route were behind me. “Just three more miles of climbing,” he said, “and then it tapers off.” He optimistically suggested I might reach Ojos Negros today, but I had my doubts.
Pete was right about the next stretch—it was fantastic riding. The sun shone brightly as I pedaled through a plateau dotted with pine trees and fields of sage. By 3 PM, I summited the pass and began a long, satisfying downhill.
At mile marker 122, I reached a stream I’d heard about. It was 4:12 PM, and I still had enough water to skip filtering again. Twenty minutes later, I passed a cluster of buildings and a line of utility poles. Civilization was near, and with the sun dipping low, I was determined to make it to Ojos Negros for a warm shower, a cold beer, and a real bed.
The route led me to Ejido Sierra Juarez, a small pueblo where I spotted an abarrotes. Only four miles separated me from Ojos Negros, but I had to endure washboard roads and plumes of dust kicked up by passing vehicles as I pedaled straight into the setting sun.
Twilight had fallen by the time I entered Ojos Negros. My Google Maps wouldn’t work, but Pete had confirmed there was a hotel in town. I rode to the center and stopped at Asadero El Rony to ask for directions. They pointed me to Hotel de Real, and I set off, fingers crossed.
When I arrived, it was dark. Relief washed over me as I paid 600 pesos for a room. Inside, I plugged in my devices, hung my damp gear to dry, and rode back to El Rony for a well-deserved dinner of incredible tacos.
Back at the hotel, I took a long, hot shower and finally settled into bed to edit this report, grateful for the comfort of four walls after a challenging but rewarding day on the trail.
Comments
Post a Comment