Had you told me on July 8, right after I had finished my five-hour-long 52-mile ride from Jefferson City to Boonville, that less than two weeks later I would cover—without any luggage!—a mere 17 miles in a little under two hours and suffer twice as much, I would have simply looked at you and declared you insane. But if conditions in Missouri had been hot and humid, Cabo was comparable to what waterboarding in a
hammam must feel like. Simply put, I met my limits: Thirty miles of riding on two different days taught me that certain things simply do not need to be done. So much for my cycling plans for Mexico.
Otherwise, it was a wonderful trip! 😁
I had spent only five full days in Lubbock after my delayed return from Missouri, playing host to my old friend Geoffrey on the weekend before my Monday departure for Los Cabos, as the tourist area at the southern end of the Baja California has been known since the early 1980s. I had spent 58,000 frequent flier miles (and the usual taxes and fees) on a return Business Class flight to SJD, going via Phoenix. Instead of booking an all-inclusive resort or a more modest hotel close to the center of Cabo San Lucas I had decided on an Airbnb about six or so miles away, located at
Cabo Bello. I didn't want to deal with the tourist hustle-and-bustle of the port-of-call for many mega cruise liners, and the Airbnb I had found seemed to fit the bill perfectly.
In the run-up to the trip I had been in frequent contact with Gina, the owner of the condo that would be my home for a week. She and her husband own two units in the
Misiones complex, a small beehive of about 70 apartments, many of which are owned by American ex-pats. The on-site sales office listed three almost identical properties for about half a million US dollars—one or two bedrooms, small bathroom and tiny kitchen, and a balcony overlooking the bay, with a breathtaking view of the iconic arched rocks at the southern end of the Baja. When Gina is not spending time in Mexico, she rents out one or both units, allowing us mere mortals to enjoy the half-million dollar view!
Gina had put me in touch with Felipe, who runs a transportation company, and thus there were no surprises or issues in getting from the SJD airport to
Las Misiones del Cabo as he provides shuttle services for her as well as her guests. His roundtrip fee of $140 is about $60 less than what similar online shuttle services advertise; forget getting a deal with an Uber since the remote airport (about 50 minutes from
Misiones and more than hour from downtown Cabo San Lucas) is tightly controlled and will not allow Ubers to pick up passengers (but they can drop them off). Other Mexican airports have similar restrictions, as I have found out over the years.
As it turned out, I had found a gem in Gina's condo. It had everything I needed and wanted, from beach chairs and umbrellas to a gazillion kitchen gadgets and a full complement of spices. The large fridge had an icemaker and dispensed ice-cold filtered water, and just for me, upon my asking, Gina had purchased a small electric grill to prepare fish, beef, and chicken out on the balcony. Maybe most important was the well-functioning AC, an absolute must in July in Cabo. She told me that the unit in which I stayed is her favorite one, and when she and her husband spend time in Cabo that's the one they use. I understand why.
The view from the balcony is spectacular. Right below, one of the complex's two free-form pools is open all day. This one is an infinity pool with full view of the bay. Beyond the pool, the balcony view opens up to
Monuments beach, where big waves attract dozens of surfers. And beyond the immediate beach area the bay stretches all the way to
Los Arcos, as the rock formations are known. Be it in the morning, during the day, or in the evening light, the view is so compelling that I would sit and enjoy it for literally hours! And at night, the twinkling lights of harbor and city take over.
The pool area has a small snack bar where every night a handful of expats knock back a few drinks, have a taco or two, and hold court. (During my self-imposed happy hour, I enjoyed chatting with two of the regulars, Jim and Wesley, the current HOA president.) Off-site, there is a fine-dining restaurant,
Sunset Monalisa, where a
cerveza artesanal fetches $18 (yes, US $) before tax and tip, and people drive up in 30-foot-long stretch limousines. Well, I was quite happy to eschew both establishments and grill ocean-fresh
huachinango from the aptly called
Fresko supermarket, just a couple of miles away by bike. My friends know how much I enjoy going to a local store and picking out fresh produce, meats, and other goodies. I know that's weird and not very tourist-like, but it is what it is. And with Southern Californian prices in this part of Mexico, going out for a solitary dinner would have been—at least in my book—complete nonsense. I certainly didn't feel deprived.
Let's get back to the bike. Shortly after my arrival, I had put together the Ritchey, and by mid-afternoon I was ready to set out for a grocery run. Since
Misiones is located almost at sea-level, every ride started out with a half-mile climb up to the
Corredor Turistico, the part of the
Carretera Transpeninsular that connects San José del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas and the many beaches and resorts in between. By the time I reached the highway, I was soaking wet.
The roughly east-west running
Corredor Turistico presents a formidable barrier between whatever is on either side of it, stores, restaurants, or beaches. There are eight lanes of traffic: four main through-traffic ones and another four access lanes to allow to intermittently turn off the highway. There are no direct crossovers; instead, I had to first ride for almost a mile east, exit the access, and complete the
retorno via a bridge across the
carretera. Eventually I would end up at the
Fresko, almost exactly opposite from where I had climbed up to the highway. On the way back, the
retorno was somewhat closer, but not by much. No parallel roads exist. Crossing the busy eight lanes on foot means playing Russian Roulette.
The
Fresko, located in a shopping area that also features the local
Home Depot, is a modern, well-stocked supermarket that rivals any grocery store we have in Lubbock. Quick price comparisons revealed that even most produce items were more expensive than what I pay at home, including local items such as mangoes and limes. (Most produce is priced by the kilo, which requires a little more math during conversion when it comes to those items that are typically priced on a per-piece basis in the US.) Looking at the assortment of imported goods (from wine to gourmet cheeses), this store caters to the
gringo community and citizens from the mainland who have the means to keep a vacation home in Los Cabos. A mile or so down the road, an even larger
Soriana supermarket as well as a
Costco beckon...
 |
| Home-cooked meals beat a $16 frozen pizza ... |
The access road is well paved and devoid of speed bumps and potholes. Sure, the incessant traffic is bothersome but I never felt in danger of being hit and run over. After about four or five miles, it is possible to escape the
carretera and veer off into the town's various
barrios. Most of the streets are paved, but there are also quite a few dirt roads, often littered with trash. Mexican music blares from radios in the numerous shops that are intermingled within the residential areas, and I felt right at home because this was and is authentic Mexico. I doubt very many of the
gringo tourists see these parts. If one wants good local food at reasonable prices, this is the area to seek out. Gina had given me some recommendations, and on my second ride I stopped by a
marisceria that served outstanding
ceviche.
Careful to avoid the speed bumps in the residential areas, I made my way to the harbor basin. It is possible to ride for close to two miles around the entire marina, on the boardwalk that is lined with shops and restaurants on one side and the moorings of untold numbers of small boats and impressive yachts on the other.
During both of my excursions I rode this route and thoroughly enjoyed it; it was the time when most tourists were either eating a late lunch or in their hotel rooms, digesting it. On my first visit to the harbor I took a happy hour break at
Baja Brewing, which is not easy to find as it is on the 7th floor of one of the hotels. After much circling around and asking questions I finally handed my bike off to a hotel valet who parked it in a safe spot for me. I do have to say that the view from the terrace of the tasting room is second to none, and the beer is excellent as well. If you find yourself in Cabo, definitely make a point to stop by
Baja Brewing.
Another authentic microbrewery is
Yenekamu, housed in less-glitzy industrial quarters away from the water and probably frequented by locals only—I just can't see how a cruise-ship tourist would ever find this place. (
Cerveceria 29 bills itself as a microbrewery, but they serve only bottled beer and their bathroom murals left more of an impression on me than the rest of the premises.)
Yenekamu's beer was OK, but they were out of two of their three IPAs, so that put a damper on this visit. And the price of almost $9 for a pint in this setting was just another reminder of where I was: the land of the
gringo.
With riding being on the verge of being unhealthy I spent more time on the beach than I had anticipated. Even the umbrella and a small ice chest of
Pacifico could do only so much to keep me cool, and I didn't embark on my beach adventures until after the worst of the midday sun. The sandy beach at
Cabo Bello drops steeply off, and the waves are strong. A group of three children who ventured out just a little too far started to drift away from shore, and had it not been for a middle-aged sun-lover with a boogie board, who knows what might have happened.
Birmingham is a pleasant city of about 200,000 inhabitants, and the metro area is said to top a million people. There are a few skyscrapers in the downtown area, there are several well-kept parks and historic buildings, and there's even a free art museum (that we never got a chance to visit). The general pace seems to be rather Southern, a bit on the slower side. And why hurry in this heat and humidity? During our stay, daily rainstorms added to the sauna-like environment, and just walking the few steps from our hotel, the Sheraton, to the venue challenged the sweat glands. 
Linda left on Monday morning to go back to her real job in the Portland, OR, area, and I left a few hours later in the afternoon. For a while it had looked as if Linda might have to hang out in Denver for an extra seven hours when a (United) crewmember didn't show up in time for her initial flight, but somehow she made it home at a decent hour. My AA flights, for once, were on time (actually, the DFW to LBB hop was delayed by ten minutes since we waited for some late-connecting passengers—for once, somebody at American realized that nobody connects onward from LBB and thus six stressed-out passengers were spared the usual wait for the last-flight-of-the-day routine).
And then, surprise, surprise, Sandy showed up at the airport to take me home! A good trip, indeed!
