Winter is always a tough time for riders in the North, but this January had been a particularly brutal month. The lack of snow meant the mountains weren’t calling to skiers, while sub-zero temperatures meant my bikes remained off the road and tethered to battery tenders. Worse yet, Toronto only scored 48.8 hours of sunlight the entire month. Seasonal Affective Disorder had set in big time, and I needed a cure. A quick escape would do.Somewhere to get my knees back in the breeze, get lost in some helmet time and to top off my vitamin D reserves.
Baja. I needed to get back to Baja.
Unlike my last time down the peninsula, this journey wouldn’t involve any hardcore off-road sojourns. Eaglerider Motorcycle Tours offers a tour for that kind of ride, but this time the majority of our group would be piloting behemoth baggers, so we were sticking to slab. I had reservations: parading down the highway in an endless sea of noise, leather and chrome is something I typically associate with Viking River Cruise clientele. I’m not exactly a “cruiser” guy.
My fears of sanitized experiences were assuaged when we met our guide, Brad. A Baja local, he’d pin-dropped stops on this trip that would showcase northern Baja’s culture — including coffee in his own backyard. Brad also had a dirt bike parked in his living room.
I wasn’t expecting much — in my mind, “all-inclusive” sucks life from adventure, sanitizes experience, bubble-wraps challenge.
Rolling out of San Diego, Tijuana arrived in no time at all. Suddenly, the urban sprawl stopped and rural topography began. The reasons why motorcyclists flock to Baja are many, but chief among them is this immediate transport into something foreign yet welcoming.