The morning was beautiful, cloudless, very unlike the beginning of the trip for David, Jim and Jay, who all hit rain and high winds on their trip down to Los Angeles from their homes in the north. The only positive thing about that bad weather was that our Aerostich suits and Pelican cases were definitely waterproof and the fully-loaded bikes were pretty stable in harsh conditions.

We took numerous photos, shot lots of video and film, and David tested the satellite phone with a call to his mother. (Gary's mother unfortunately wasn't home, so he left a message.) As we made final adjustments to our gear, all of our well-wishers came up for hugs and handshakes. Everyone seemed excited for us, but there was an air of sadness as well. A few close friends held back tears as they wished us a good journey. We all had nothing but a good feeling about the whole trip, but who really knew what the next 4 months had in store for us.

After about 30 minutes of this sentimentality, it was time to suit up and get on the bikes. The urge to get the show on the road was so great, the five of us felt like bucking broncos about to be released from the gate. Suddenly, in an omen of things to come, Alex's bike, unused to the immense load now a permanent part of its back half, decided to play Domino's and took Gary's bike with it (along with Gary and his girlfriend, Saione). Fortunately, Jay saved his own bike with a mighty foot.

Ground Zero - Departure from Santa Monica

Back in the upright position, we straddled our mounts for a few last photos, then with a wave and a big breath, we rode up the hill, out of the parking lot, and down to the nearest gas station. With all the craziness of the final few days of preparation, a few of us had neglected to fill our tanks. That minor detail dispensed with, we merged with traffic onto the 10 Freeway West, turned south onto the 405 Freeway, and took off for the bottom of the world.

The drive down to San Diego was nice and uneventful. The traffic was moderately light and we all quickly became used to manuevering our fully-loaded bikes at high speed. We stopped for a lunch break at Jim's mother's house for home-made sandwiches and a medley of soups. (We apologize to you, D.J., for cleaning out your cupboards, but that's what you get for playing host to hungry bikers.) We made our first attempt to get on the internet with the satellite phone and discovered we were missing a cable. Toby, a technician from the satellite phone company and an avid biker who was along for the ride today, knew just what to get, and a computer store in the neighborhood provided the missing element to our high-tech communications package.

It was here that we made our first major group decision. The original plan was to ride into Mexico at Tijuana, then to east to Mexicali on Mexico Hwy 2. Seeing that it was already mid-afternoon, and there was snow reported in the Mexican mountains, we decided to stay on the U.S. side and cross into Mexico at Calexico. It was a good decision; the low range of mountains along US Highway 8 were beautiful, and the smooth road snaked through this last bit of scenery in the United States. When it got a little cold, we put the fleece liners into our Aerostich jackets, although the Canadian and Toby the Satellite guy claimed to be toasty warm without the additional layer.

The sun set while on this stretch which made us all a bit nervous. The two highest recommendations for travel below the border are, of course, don't drink the water and don't drive at night. Already on Day One, we'd violated one of the cardinal rules. The only consolation was that we were still on the US side of the border, and Mexicali is directly on the border, so we'd only be driving at night in the city and not on the open road in the middle of nowhere in the dark. (That would come later.)

Not long after sundown, we pulled into Calexico for a quick fill-up and to change a little bit of dinero before crossing the border (and Alex's bike fell over again). Already it was starting to feel like another place; the feel of Mexico was in the air. The population was largely Hispanic and all the signs were either in two languages or just in Spanish.

The traffic was light entering our first foreign country of the trip and we passed through without a hitch. Gary was worried about being pulled into secondary for a custom's inspection, any traveller's nightmare, but the customs officials hardly gave us a look. Immediately, we began breaking the law. Against the calm disapproval of David, we parked in the middle of the road in front of the border for a photo. Once again, nobody gave us a second glance.

Hola Mexico!

It took a few minutes of driving around clueless until we found our hotel for the night. Bless you, Crowne Plaza. The kind folks at the Crowne Plaza Mexicali provided us with two complimentary rooms and they were greatly appreciated. After unloading our gear and parking the bikes in the secure underground lot, we all converged on the hotel's gym for a much needed light workout and stretching.

Our first dinner out was, of all things, Italian food at Que Rico. And very good, too. (We recommend it.) Dinner was a joyous occasion of toasts, good cheer, and heated discussions about what we've been doing wrong already. No hand signals, bad lane position, not keeping up with the other riders, not stopping when the others stop, losing formation, taking the lead when you have no idea where you are going, etc. We came to no definitive solutions; it will just take time and practice.

The nightclub attached to the restaurant was very enticing (or was it just the beautiful Mexican girls lined up outside?), but a good nights sleep seemed more important. It had a been a long first day.

Miles - 288

First breakfast in Mexico

The smog-filled morning air of Mexicali presaged the difficulties to come on Day Two. After a delicious breakfast in the hotel and discussions over a map of Mexico, we rode off to get our temporary vehicle permits, sure to be well on the way in no time. Boy, were we in for a surprise. Bad directions from the hotel and a police escort in entirely the opposite direction didn't make it an easier, but we eventually found ourselves right back at the border at a little trailer office. The lengthy and labyrinthine process under the sweltering heat of mid-day tested not only our patience, but our ability to cooperate with each other.

Things were going well, albeit slowly, until we learned a valuable lesson: BRING A CREDIT CARD if you intend on driving deep into Mexico. It seems that Mexico requires a bond on credit card for every individual bringing in a vehicle. Alex did not have one, and the option is paying a lot of money. The solution was to officially add Gary to Alex's bike registration so it could go on Gary's card. To accomplish this, Alex and Gary headed back into the United States in a futile attempt to find a Notary Public on a Sunday.

Our first Internet connection -- Solar powered lap-top computer to satellite phone!

Back at the border, the others took the opportunity to do a full test of the satellite phone, computer, and internet connection, and voila! E-mail. The speed was a bit slow at 2400 bps, and we held our breath that the connection wouldn't fail. How spoiled we are to be complaining about the speed of electronic mail through a remote internet connection via satellite phone in the middle of nowhere with a laptop computer powered by a solar panel. (Did we also mention we have a global positioning system? Our coordinates were 32 39 52.4 North by 115 29 46.9 West, thanks to our Trimble Scoutmaster.)

Gary and Alex came back empty handed, and Alex coughed up the cash to pay for his temporary importation bond. Everyone went to yet another office for the tourist cards, Gary's bike fell over completely on its own, and we all received the first stamp in our passports. The first of many.

By now, it was well into the afternoon and we knew we'd never make it to Puerto Penasco, where we thought the beach would make a nice second night on the road. Hell, we doubted we'd even make it to Sonoita, halfway to Puerto Penasco. We were right. So we stopped to load up on groceries and then raced the setting sun to San Luis Rio Colorado, a small town on the western edge of the Desierto de Altar. We lost the race, and so soon after making our resolution the night before to stop riding by dusk, we found ourselves driving at night again.

On a four-lane highway, clustered together, we steeled our nerves and cautiously made our way to town. Gary took the lead, confident that San Luis would soon be reached, but the 15 miles of bug-dodging, cars passing in the other direction without headlights, and the occasional pothole quickly eroded his confidence. The Collett bike-to-bike communicators were a big help at this point. Although at high speeds we found them less necessary, they were invaluable in towns and at night. Gary at the head and David at the rear, they gave each other feedback on upcoming road conditions, cars separating the group and other potential problems. Alex and Jim weren't too fond of the communicators yet, but hopefully we would all get in synch with them.

Just as the stress was reaching a critical level, we saw the lights of San Luis. The woman at the toll booth at the edge of town told us the Hotel Casablanca was just a few blocks ahead. Sure enough, there it was, neon sign beckoning us brightly to turn off our transmissions and find shelter for the night. Six sweaty bikers piled into a 12x16 room (for only $3 each), no television, cooking our pasta with our Sigg gas stove, throwing the frisbee, and enjoying every minute.

We spent the last few hours of the night standing outside our little hotel room trying desperately to get an internet connection so we could upload the first two days' events with photos. The satellite phone and computer were working just fine, but our resident internet expert, Jim, was sacked out in the room. So David, Gary and Toby tried everything they could think of but kept getting the same error from the computer. After a fly hits its head against the window so many times, it finally passes out on the window sill of a stinky 16x12 hotel room.

Miles - 50

We hope you all have enjoyed our rambling, and although it hasn't been too exciting yet, stay tuned for when we actually make it more then 20 miles south of the border. We wish to remind everyone that we're not doing this for our own good time. Okay, we are, but we are also trying to raise some money for our charities, so if you haven't yet, make a donation. We thank you.

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