Baja Divide

January 20, 2025

Baja Divide - Day 9

January 3, 2025

30°24'52" N 115°30'30" W to San Augustin - 60 Miles

Start 7:38 AM

Finish 5:19 PM

Total Duration 9:26

Moving Time 7:16

Stopped Time 2:10

Ascent 3,821’

Descent 3,722’

Tour Total 398 Miles

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/245872078

The first light of day appeared a little after 6 AM, and by 6:30, I was stirring. It was bitterly cold inside my tent, the kind of chill that bites at your resolve. I had to refill my Therm-a-Rest twice during the long, frigid night. Dinner the previous evening was modest: energy water and a handful of almonds I’d brought from New York, as I decided to skip the refried beans.

To my relief, the tent fly was dry this morning—humidity here is almost nonexistent. I packed up slowly, savoring the quiet. The silence was so profound that I could hear the faint ringing in my ears. Before setting off, I couldn’t help but notice my rear derailleur, visibly twisted and a cause for concern.

The road soon brought me to a fork, and I headed east, riding into the cold morning sun. Bundled in my full kit, I climbed to another high point at 2,100 feet. The hard sand made for decent pedaling, and the effort soon had me breaking a sweat. Along the way, I spotted my first coyote—a brief encounter, as it darted into the brush the moment it noticed me.

The rear derailleur continued to trouble me, visibly out of alignment and rubbing against the spokes when I attempted to shift to higher rings. At one point, I stopped to remove a few layers and carefully torque the pulley cage hanger, enough to improve functionality for the time being.

By 9:30 AM, I’d reached the 2,700-foot high point on the map, marking the start of a downhill stretch. I paused to snack on cookies and hydrate before tackling the descent. The path quickly turned into a chaotic obstacle course of loose rocks and boulders, forcing me to proceed cautiously.

A thorny bush lashed at me during one particularly tight stretch, tearing small holes in my left arm protector and leaving red spots.

As I continued, the landscape became surreal. I passed groves of Cirios—trees straight out of a Dr. Seuss illustration, with split, floppy trunks and stubby branches. They looked more like sculptures than living organisms.

At 10:22 AM, I reached the abandoned ranch marked on my map. I’d hoped to make it there last night, but in hindsight, it would have been impossible. The loose sand in this section required another hike-a-bike effort.

Later, the road evened out into hard sand, allowing me to pick up some speed. The landscape was an otherworldly mix of Cirios, towering cacti, and scattered boulders.

I passed an abandoned camp and came to a fork, where I crossed a vast, dried-up riverbed of fine gravel. After the slow hike-a-bike across the expanse, I was startled by a small truck carrying hay—the first vehicle I’d seen since leaving Highway Mex 1 the previous morning. By noon, I’d covered 20 miles.

A blue SUV passed me going the other way, a reassuring sign of human presence in this remote area. Soon after, I encountered a stretch of bone-rattling washboard road.

Passing a working ranch with vehicles parked out front, I noticed piles of crushed rocks along the way. A white Toyota pickup loaded with firewood rumbled by, and I waved as it passed.

At 2 PM, I finally reached Highway Mex 1 and the El Sacrificio roadhouse. Luck was on my side—it was open. I bought a cold Coke, two lemonades, and a couple of cookie packs. Juan, the friendly proprietor, had no other food aside from chips, but he let me charge my devices and post updates on social media. I asked if any other cyclists had passed through recently, but Juan said no. While I was there, two women stopped in a car but left after realizing food wasn’t available.

Before leaving, I stocked up on water, topping off my supply with two additional liters. The next stretch on Mex 1 offered a wide shoulder and little traffic, making for a pleasant ride.

After a few miles, I reached the turnoff for the route but decided to stay on the highway to ensure I’d reach Cataviña by the following day. The road took me into Valle de los Cirios, a protected natural area, where I saw even more of the strange, spindly trees I’d admired earlier.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, I pedaled hard, aiming for San Agustín, where I hoped to find a restaurant and store. I gambled by passing an open café, confident something better lay ahead.

Darkness was closing in when I finally arrived. The lonchería seemed closed, but the door was ajar, and the friendly proprietor offered to cook me dinner. I happily accepted, savoring a plate of fried steak and potatoes, accompanied by a cold Coke. Afterward, I set up my tent outside, using the WiFi to upload this report before calling it a night.