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Well,
the day eventually came. I had to pack up and head north again. It was the
day after New Years. With daytime temperatures in the low 80's it seemed
almost unreal that within a few days I'd be concerned about frostbitten
fingers again.
I felt blessed to have made it to one of the trip's ultimate destinations by mid-afternoon that day: Mission San Borja. This stately, historic all-stone mission was founded in 1776. It is really off the beaten track, and you definitely have to know where it is and want to get there. It's not something you just stumble upon. The nondescript turnoff from Mexico 1 is apparently marked if you're traveling south, but not if you're traveling north. So I missed it and doubled back a little way. Thank goodness my GPS was working again. Once I found the correct little road to take out of the small community of Rosarito, it's about a 30 km ride on a very remote, one-lane primitive unpaved road. I spotted a cow that met it's untimely demise just beside the road and hoped that I would fare better on the way to the mission. I was riding solo, after all, so I was quite cautious lest I do something stupid and end up laying there for awhile before someone happened by. It was a great GS road that had just about every conceivable set of riding conditions you could imagine from various sized rocks to deep sand to vados and creek crossings to talc-like powdery dust that must have been six inches deep. Some parts were smooth and straight, others terribly rough with unexpected dips and turns. A lot of first and second gear on-the-pegs riding. Luckily, over the years, most of the bowling-ball sized rocks had been moved to the side of the road. The scenery is just incredible on the way, and the flora is as diverse as you will find anywhere in Baja. This area is quite unique because it has some natural fresh water sources as well as a decent amount of moisture from both the Pacific to the west and the Gulf of California to the east. The "vigilante" or keeper of the mission (what a neat name... I conjured up the thought of someone who takes care of the mission and looks after it with vigilance) lived nearby in a small farm house and greeted me when I arrived at the mission. His is one of only two houses in the valley where the mission is located. After a fascinating tour of the mission and the nearby ruins of an even older one, the vigilante could tell that I was much more interested than the typical "Joe Tourista" and when I asked him about the possibility of camping nearby, he offered for me to stay in one of the wings of the mission. I literally had to ask several times to make sure I understood that's what he intended. He took me around and showed me where I could park my motorcycle in the courtyard area of the mission, showed me a bathroom outbuilding complete with working plumbing fixtures (provided you hauled water up to the tanks on the roof), and showed me to the ancient stone room where I would sleep. I absolutely could not believe my good fortune... not only getting to visit Mission San Borja, but actually getting to spend the night inside the mission itself. I made as generous a donation as possible to the mission, reserving enough cash to purchase food and fuel for at least one more full day of travel in Mexico before getting back to the U.S. When I walked out front to get my motorcycle and ride it around to the courtyard area, a pleasant and affable young man from the other farm house in the valley came up and introduced himself as Angel. I inquired about the possibility of getting something to eat anywhere nearby, and I was totally taken by surprise when he told me that his mother could fix dinner for me. Again, I had to ask several times to make sure I understood the offer correctly. I walked with him back to their farm house, and while his mother prepared the meal, Angel took me on a walking tour of their farm, which included no less than four natural springs. Two of them were hot springs and two of them cold springs. They had an ingenious system of water reservoirs and hand-dug aqueducts to channel water where it was needed. The largest hot spring was stone-lined and looked like it could seat about ten adults if they were good friends. Angel told me that it was originally built and used back when the mission itself was being built. Angel's family has built some neat little open air palapas and a couple of basic rooms on their farm for mission visitors to stay the night in. They only request whatever donation patrons see fit to offer for the accommodations. Angel also showed me his father's farm truck, which upon traversing one of the horribly primitive roads near the farm had recently had the entire A-arm of the front suspension ripped off. Eeek. The necessary parts had been welded and reinforced at Bahia de Los Angeles almost 50 km away, and were now ready for reassembly. Unfortunately, this meant that they could not drive me back up the canyon in order to see the ancient cave paintings that were fairly close by. I hope to return again and spend more time here, see the cave paintings and soak in the hot springs. When we returned to his house after the tour, dinner was ready and I ate heartily. Freshly made flour tortillas, frijoles, queso fresco, a small selection of fried and fresh chile peppers, and a cup of tea. I was famished and I ate my fill of this simple but hearty farm fare. I offered a donation to the family for their kindness, and again tried to be as generous as I could. I also offered Angel a donation for his time and kindness in showing me around the valley and farm. Later in the evening, I was playing with a couple of the kids in the patio area when the father came out of the house and invited me in to spend the evening with them. Talk about hospitality! We visited a bit, but my basic command of Spanish didn't allow me to interact quite as smoothly as I would have liked. No one seemed to care. To my surprise, they turned on a small television and we watched several bible stories in Spanish, thanks to their solar power cells. They were obviously very pious, and there was little doubt about the fact that they took their belief in Christianity quite seriously. Angel's dad was one of the people who helped with an extensive restoration of the mission's wing where I would be sleeping. Afterwards, Angel escorted me back to the mission with a flashlight and made sure I got settled in okay. I closed the massive wooden doors leading into the courtyard area and propped large rocks against them as doorstops. I set up a surprisingly comfortable canvas and wood cot, laid my sleeping bag out on it, and laid down in what was almost complete darkness. It was like being inside a cave. I laid there and listened to the wind whistle and moan through the massive rock structures, and heard shutters banging to and fro in the occasionally strong gusts. I could hardly believe my good fortune to have the opportunity to spend the night here. A place that was built during the American Revolution, when the United States as we know it was in its infancy. I tried to imagine the history and the people and events that must have taken place inside these walls over the past 200-plus years. I eventually drifted off to a sound sleep inside Mission San Borja.
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