Another day of biking and we were in the town of Loreto.

A brief morning walk to secure breakfast and baked goods from a big-deal bakery and we were back on the road. Outside of town we stopped to talk to the first bike tourers we’d seen, 2 girls from Switzerland who had spent the last 2 years biking from Patagonia.

The road was going south again so our tailwind returned. We were cruising near the gulf in the warm sunshine.

We stopped briefly in Mulege (muy popular con los gringos). It was a quaint little town with lots of huge palm trees and the only riverish sort of thing we saw in the baja.

The evening consisted of rolling hills right along the gulf and some of the most spectacular scenery we would see all tour. We ended up staying on the beach at a little spot called Buenaventura, owned by a man from Madison, Wisconsin and his mexican wife. They had eventually married at the cost of 150 pesos to appease the Mexican government so they would allow him to stay in the country.

A chilly morning led to a hot day. The wind was either a head-wind or a cross-wind, as the road going due east. We biked 30 miles to San Ignacio and stopped for lunch at a tiny place with a lovely covered porch owned by a lady with a fondness for frogs.

James was having some knee issues and this was the second day of me riding on a rim that I felt was going to collapse. It was hot and everyone was feeling a bit worn out. We decided to take a bus to the coast town of Santa Rosalia, about 40 miles down the road.

An extremely disinterested younger bus station worker cast doubt as to whether our bikes would be a problem or not. As we were outside waiting a postal employee who spoke decent English sparked a conversation with us and offered to shove our bikes into the back of his postal truck and take us there.

The cab of the truck held 3 people and I offered to ride in the back with the bikes. There was a sliding door that stayed open and I spent an hour taking pictures, listening to music, and watching the desert drift by, happy to be done for the day.

At Santa Rosalia he dropped us off at the bike shop, which incidentally overlooked the ocean. Jeff and James scouted the local deets while I waited for the store to reopen. Eventually the helpful owner of the modest store found me a replacement wheel from a mountain bike in the back, trued the wheel, and changed the cassette, tube, and the tire. For all of that for I was charged 300 pesos, about 25 dollars.

He cautioned that the wheel shouldn’t be trusted, and I should get another ASAP. I ended up riding on it for the rest of the trip.

In Guerrero Negro running errands (ATM, a mercado stop, internet, and breakfast) got us off to a relatively late start. A little ways down the road Jeff noticed that my rim had a crack in it. Not good. A spandex-clad local mountain biker said that the next place to get it fixed would likely be Loreto, about 180 miles down the road.

That was not happy information for me. I figured I would just ride on it until that wasn’t possible anymore. It wasn’t very comforting thinking your rear wheel could have a catastrophic failure at any moment.

When it was clear would would be camping that night, and evening stop for groceries and beer resulted in me leaving a my warm orange Patagonia jacket outside the market. My biggest tour mishap ever.

Our Christmas present was more tailwind that helped us to bike around 85 miles, our biggest day all tour. There was hardly any traffic, it was our own private highway. We ate warm food for all 3 meals. All in all I thought it was an excellent Christmas.

The previous night the couple renting us the hotel room mentioned a possibility of 60mph winds the next day. We didn’t think much of it at the time.

In the morning we had birria and set down the road in what was already a windy day. About 10 miles later the road came up over a large hill and into a tremendous headwind that required serious pedaling to go anywhere. The road changed direction, entered a valley, and the headwind turned into the most intense crosswind I have ever experienced in my life.

Biking in a straight line required seriously leaning into the wind. The gusts at this point we thought were around 60 or 70 mph. You would be doing your best to bike in a straightish fashion and a gust would come along and the feeling was as if someone was giving you a hard push off the road. The road was elevated with no shoulder and the consequences of failing to stay on pavement would not have been pleasant. When the gust stopped you would inevitably over-correct and go back to the left, which was occasionally in the direction of an oncoming 18-wheeler.

It was scary.

We stopped at a pullout and just standing upright required focus. Everyone agreed biking in winds comparable to a tropical storm was not safe. We found a spot that was sheltered from the wind and layed down in the dirt and thought about what we should do. I distinctly remember thinking what was wrong with me that this was how I decided to spend my Christmas. After about an hour and a half of feeling more trapped by the weather than I ever had in my life, we decided to try to get a ride.

Leaving our sheltered spot and approaching the road, it was evident that the wind had died down considerably. I suggested we try biking in it and, if we felt it was unsafe, get a ride.

Biking in a 30mph wind turned out to be reasonable.

As an early Christmas present, for the last hour and a half of daylight, the wind was directly at our backs. We biked 25 miles in a little over an hour as the sun dipped below the mountains. After the events of earlier, biking at 30mph in relative peace (since you were matching the direction and speed of the wind) was amazing.

We spent Christmas Eve camping near several large cacti on the outskirts of the small town of P.P. Prieta. The evening was calm and we were able to have our first campfire of the trip.

Packing up at sunrise was a chilly endeavor. The morning was windy and the wind would continue all day, keeping us in our jackets. We stopped at a few tiny places for water and food.

We ate lunch at a restaurant in what was essentially someone’s living room. Another place had a no-nonsense older woman wearing a Tecate baseball cap selling us bottled watter, galletas, and a dense sweet bread she had made for 5 pesos.

We got a hotel room in the tiny town of Catavina. There was no lock on the door. The owner said he gets around that with his constant vigilance.

A morning passing more large farms led to a day full of uninhabited desert. We experienced our first of half a dozen or so military checkpoints. Our bags were very casually searched. The traffic dropped dramatically.

As dusk was rapidly turning to darkness we thought we might be approaching a town, but a stopped truck driver informed us we had about 40 clicks left (over 20 miles). The terrain had become hilly again and we were exhausted, so it was time to camp.

We quickly found a spot near the highway. A large cactus watched over us and kept us safe during the night. Nights were surprisingly cold at this point.

Having never done a bike tour in the winter, we discovered that 4 hours less daylight makes a big difference in terms of how far you can go in a day. Getting up early seemed to be the best plan.

For breakfast we discovered birria, a popular dense soup with shredded beef, onions, and cilantro served with tortillas.

Closer to San Quintin the terrain flattened out and traffic picked up due to the presence of several huge commercial farms. A few key shoulders kept us out of the way on the larger uphills.

Our first day of biking. The terrain was relatively hilly. We were to discover this was a common occurrence in the Baja. The road seemed to be relatively new in many places and had a shoulder that was about 6 feet wide for most of the way. San Vicente was a small town and we got a hotel room for 300 pesos, (about 20 dollars).

Over Christmas break myself Jeff ‘Business 3000′ Spence and James `2006’ aka ‘Butch’ Searls biked about 800 miles in the Baja Peninsula of Mexico. A plane, a train, and a bus brought us to our starting location.

On day 14 we finally made it to the heart of Vancouver in the early evening. The final 20 miles or so of biking into a large city are rarely very fun. Downtown Vancouver itself is very pro-bicycle though, with lots of dedicated bike lanes.

We had camped up in the mountains, and the day started with a big downhill. It was also raining, which made going 35-40mph on your bike that much more exciting. The rain stopped once we got down to flat ground, which was certainly welcome. After that it was pedal pedal pedal to Hope, a lovely city about 100 miles east of Vancouver. Our first shower in some time was taken at their aquatic center.

Somehow my days on this trip are off. We left on a Saturday and got into Vancouver on a Friday, which is 14 days. There were only 2 more days of riding to Vancouver after this one though.

The day started with a climb out of Okanagan Falls. We took the 3A south to Keremos, and then met highway 3 and turned west towards Vancouver. Several locals had told us to take Old Hedley Road, the old highway, into Princeton.