Malcolm and I got up early and left Loreto... what is it with not being able to sleep off hangovers anymore when you get older? Anyway we left and made a plan to meet Darren and Joe up the road a bit at El Coyote, a beach near the one we'd stayed at previously. It's been super hot and feeling like it gets hotter everyday. So getting the sweaty gear off and going for a swim felt pretty awesome. Did the hangover some good too. Had the best huevos rancheros of the trip at a little roadside stall in El Coyote too.
Darren and Joe showed up and we rode together from there to San Ignacio, where we wanted to stay so we could do the longest most fatiguing roads the next morning. We set off in the morning and then ended up separating again at Guerrero Negro and riding in pairs. We joined up again in Catavina, where we had to stop and get gas. When we left there we ended up splitting up again and Malcolm and I pushed onto El Rosario, our next stop for the night. We got there tired and sore. This was our biggest ride in one day so far, so we were pleased to be off the bikes.
The pleasure slowly dissipated though when Darren and Joe didn't show up. We waited and waited... and waited... and started to get really nervous. At about 6.30pm I decided to take the tools, fill up, and head back towards Catavina. It was pretty nerve-wrecking not knowing what the fuck had happened, and it was obvious that SOMETHING had happened as they were way too late. I set off with horrific images playing through my mind as to what I might find... if indeed I found them at all. I was also worried that if they were still quite far back in the desert we may not get out before dark. I thought a lot about all the little memorial things to dead truck drivers that are dotted along the side of the road in this part of the desert. Apparently it's very common for truck drivers to crash on this road... especially at night.
I can't explain how great I felt to see Joe's headlight come round the corner at me after I'd been riding only 20 minutes or so! And then there was Darren... but on a different bike, and following an RV towing a trailer with his (rented) BMW on it. I rode behind them for a bit and looked for signs of damage on the BMW but couldn't see any.
When we finally got back to El Rosario we got the full story. Darren's bike had cut out on him – while passing a truck (ain't it always). Not able to get it going again, Joe had started towing Darren, and it was all going well until the BMW locked up at about 50mph, which almost spilled both bikes. At this point they were unable to even find neutral again on the BMW, and so, thankfully, were picked up by a guy – Dan Schroeder – passing by on his way back to the US with his own bike on a trailer – hence the bike Darren was on (a Huskie). We had some food with Dan and went to bed wondering what we were gonna do tomorrow.
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