It was a blue sky day heading out from Bahia De Los Angeles to Hwy 1. Arriving at the junction near Punta Prieta, I sat at a crossroad both literal and figurative. I had considered spending a month or so down in Baja but felt like I had satisfied my beach-bum desire. Further south was a continuation of desert driving for days and the arrival in La Paz. The warmer waters of the southern beaches are nice but something kept pulling me to ride to an unexplored corner of the peninsula. Considering my phone no longer had the saved apps for GPS and navigation, photo editing or audiobooks would make beach camping a bit boring, I decided to head north toward the next larger town of San Felipe. It felt right following my heart to a new place and new experiences rather than the same roads
Turning at Agua Leon, the wide rocky dirt road is dusty and rutted. I eat the dust of a tractor trailer before quickly passing it in a sandy ditch paralleling the main road. This route was once a rough trail which led through a mountain range and to the Sea of Cortez and then improved for truck traffic. After many years, the government has begun construction of a paved highway to connect the east and west coast of the peninsula at this southern point. Progress is slow going and the many highway worker camps dot the rough washboard gravel. In this photo below, large diesel tractors and backhoes push truck-sized boulders down the hill in crashing dust clouds. It looks as dangerous as it sounds but the operator sucking the diesel and dust doesn't seem to mind.
I turn at the urging of many spray-painted rocks along the highway and a sign made of beer cans and old fence pictured above. The parking lot is filled with a group of adventure riders from California with BMW's and KTM's with minimal touring gear. An Indian man riding around the world was there with a Uruguayan buddy and most everyone had a cold beverage. I walked up to the small building and ducked inside the dark interior. The first thing I noticed were the collection of bras and panties hanging from the ceiling. The walls were plastered with hats, license plates, photographs and other memories of a true obscure destination.