So that was it, in an excerpted form.
After 20 blog posts I have pretty much summed up my Baja tour in an easy’ish to read lol format that surveyed the experience more than the terrain itself. It was like many others but it was also a thing I recreated in my own path.
I never meant these blog posts to become the definition of anything but rather, to quickly write down some recall of the days out there on the bike and the motivation I had to do this ride in the first place; and they were in fact some of the best days of my life. But instead these posts have become a definition and in so becoming, have skewed my life to the extreme all of the sudden. I forget how meaningful words are.
At best these posts elaborate minimally about the juxtaposition I had-or-have with society and instead suggest how well I might fit in as a mere journeyman cyclist, which is to be estranged. Or: to be a cyclist is to be an outlier of society and to be an outlier is to be estranged in a manner of speaking. Weirdos, bike geeks, hobos, bums, tweakers, dewies, cyclists, stretchy pants, shaved legs, etc, and don’t forget that bicycles are for the lowly, often. My sentiment is overstated on the matter but the point remains that to be a cyclist is to be in contrast or, simply, to be a separate thing from whatever else is going on. For the consideration at hand it is a contrast with cars, or the predominant method of conveyance for society. The estrangement can be characterized as defense of self while on the bike. with the open roads of Baja, there was little or no defense required. Shoulders slump, the ride softens.
This was also my first international sojourn but not my first international bicycle affair. All other bikepacking experiences for me have been Stateside. I found it truly liberating and often (or, really, forever) despairing to travel by bicycle. Surprise? Maybe not. Cycling is a daily reminder somehow, that you are not far from dirt, and when you go on and on about it – the bicycle – it becomes a part of you. You and your bicycle share the same patterns of filth from toe to head every day. A true melding of human and machine.
How it concluded: 1700 miles later.
I fled down the mountain from San Javier through ranches and arroyos and into the flatlands and into Lay Federal #1 and #2, precursor working-communities out in the foothills before Ciudad Constitución. These communities flowed into pan-flat agricultural stretches and the Sur of Baja was bringing on the heat with the day out of the mountains rising over 90 degree Fahrenheit. I can’t say I was sulking but I also knew the ride was essentially coming to an end as I rolled into these central lands of the southern peninsula. I knew what lay ahead and I knew how I felt about it. This was also an absurd statement because the ride can be whatever you want it to be and for me, at that point, there in Baja, I wanted it to be over I guess. There was another 300 miles to La Paz, and the Cape Loop, and then mainland Mexico and none of it mattered as much as a nice cold motel room.
Joe and Helen met up there in the city. I think we eddied out for two days before I decided to call it good and they decided to venture off. That was it. That was the end. I did not want to pedal on, perpetually. I confirmed for myself in Baja that while I am able to suffer I also, like any human, want amenities if I can afford them, and in that, I can. And so I returned to the united states a changed person. I was humbled and gracious in my movements, and everything was so much slower for me. Because I changed. I slowed down. And as a result of my travels it has taken – and is taking – a long time to re-enter society. I was in fact, at a minimum, aloof or by definition, estranged while out on the bike. I found this to be appropriate.
I leave this mini series moving forward. I am now, and have been writing from Juneau, Alaska; another endeavor all together that I will talk about, which is still about the bicycle.
The opposite of Baja. Oh how I dream of the desert.
Thanks for reading. The reflection of public review is a true boundary.
