Day 11 - Baja Club, La Paz

The ferry was due to depart at 7pm, but we had been informed that we would need to be at the port at least 4 hours early to pick up the tickets and pass through customs. There was no need to get up early and rush about to get on the road and we had a lazy morning packing up our gear and catching up on admin stuff. The hotel booking included breakfast, which was really just some fruit and yoghurt with a very tasty banana bread muffin effort. Nothing substantial, but still very tasty. We needed to be out of the room by 12:00, but the hotel reception said it would be fine if we camped out in their dining room (in the cool air) and waited until we wanted to depart for the port at around 02:30pm. So, we went for a walk around the town, particularly along the beachfront, and then set up all our stuff in the corner of the inside dining area for a couple of hours. There was a wedding at the hotel so there were photos being taken all around us, with our gear laid out on the tables and our helmets/cameras/laptops plugged in charging, with crap everywhere. They didn’t seem to mind and no one asked us to clear out so we just carried on whilst all of the hustle and bustle of the brides photos were going on. Sorry for you!

1 of the security guards, Migual, had been keeping an eye on the bikes for us whilst we were staying at the hotel. They didn’t have a dedicated parking area and we were uncomfortable leaving the bikes out of eye shot, but Migual was great and organised the first opportunity for us to grab the on-street parking spaces directly in front of the hotel. As such, whilst we were waiting at the hotel to depart for the ferry port, Migual come into us to say that there was something going on with the bikes. We couldn’t quite understand him, but it sounded like someone was blocking the bikes. A bit confused, we both went out to see what the fuss was about. When we got there, there was another RE Himalayan parked up behind us. It was on a local registration and bit older than ours, but straight up RE Himalayan. We were stoked and explained to Migual that this was not a problem, in fact we were keen to meet whoever owned the bike. At which point a young lad in his 20s stood up who was sitting off a distance and strolled over to say hi. I think he said his name was Rigo, but we were to call him Roy. He was from Oaxaca and had done some travelling on his bike. We spent about 10 minutes chatting with Roy and then went back into the hotel as we only had about 30 minutes until we needed to get packed up and to make our way across to the port. I quickly noticed that the GoPro that I had plugged in to charge, was no longer there. The cable charger, my phone, laptop and everything else of Jorik’s was still there and hadn’t been touched, just the GoPro camera was gone. There had been a young lad of about 7 or maybe 8 years old who had been hanging around us asking questions about all the gear, including the GoPro cameras earlier. He was a very polite kid, and his English was pretty good. I gave him a sticker as I liked his enthusiasm about our trip, and whilst we had been outside chatting with Roy, I knew he was in the hotel as he had been running in and out. I asked the bar staff, who were in the same room as our table, if they had seen anyone hanging around our stuff and they were reluctant to commit to having seen anyone, but when I mentioned that the kid had been interested, they kindly offered to talk to his mother and ask if he had seen it. The mother came over to us and explained that she had asked her son and he had definitely not taken it. I was polite in my response and said that I didn’t want to accuse the lighty of taking the camera straight up, and if he said he didn’t take it, then fine, we would keep looking and see if it turned up. She explained that they were leaving and that she hoped we found it. What you ganna do? About 10 minutes later she came back with the little fella in tow, and explained that whilst they were packing the car, they had found the GoPro and he had taken it. She was almost in tears, she was so embarrassed, but the little kid didn’t seem to show too much remorse. I think he was pissed that he had been caught out. I gave him another sticker, kids love stickers, and the problem was resolved. No harsh words or raised voices, we were just glad to have the camera back particularly as my GoPro mini wasn’t working very well and we wanted to have the other back up camera.

All packed up and settled up at the hotel, we rode out to the ferry port from the Baja Club. We had been told that the ferry crossing would be less than luxurious and that as we didn’t have a cabin, we would be allocated a chair in a communal room with a massive TV that played Spanish Movies all night. Not an ideal prospect, but needs must, and this ferry gets us to mainland Mexico, the next leg of our journey, so we would have to suck it up and get through the ordeal. Arriving at the port, we were made to wait for around 30 minutes for them to check our bags and our panniers. They didn’t do a particularly thorough check, but it was a pain in the ass as we have all our stuff packed away neatly and had to pull it off the bikes. Having made it through customs, we needed to get our tickets sorted out. However, there were no signs explaining the process, and the Mexican police were not the most forthcoming with information. A chap with a Honda CBR600 on the back of his pickup truck, explained that we needed a ticket, and I was sure he said we had to go over to a separate office first before we went to the ticket office. However, we pulled up at the ticket office to ask what we should do but joined the back of a queue with a load of truck drivers. I noticed that they all had a different ticket/receipt to the ones that we had and when I asked a local guy, I think he said that their receipts were because they were taking trucks on the ferry that needed to be weighed and measured. As the bikes are so small, we didn’t think we needed to do this. However, once we eventually got into the ticket office, sure enough, we needed a receipt from the weigh station for our bikes. We headed over and sorted out the bikes, with another charge of mxn120 for each bike, and then went back to the ticket office. This all took around an hour to process and in the blistering sun and was not an ideal experience. Having got the paperwork sorted, we were sent on our way to get on the ferry. There were at least 3 ferries in the port at the time and absolutely no direction as to which ferry we were supposed to get on. A bunch of Harleys had pulled up to the port as well and they had all headed over to the very first ferry and parked up under a shaded canopy to wait for boarding. We had no idea where they were heading, but whilst moving towards them, a member of staff from the port waved us over and pointed to the next ferry along, or at least the fact that it wasn’t going to be the ferry that we were aiming for. As we rode towards the next ferry, 1 of the Harley riders pulled us over and asked which ferry they should be getting if they were heading to Mazatlan, just like us. I explained that I had no idea, but it wasn’t the ferry that they were lined up for. 

We did eventually find the right ferry, which as it would happen was the third ferry in the port, of course! We found a spot to park up in the shade and got off the bikes to wait for our chance to board. As I was getting off the bike, I noticed a really nice Yamaha Tenere 700 parked off to the side with all the kit on for overlanding. I walked over to have a look and we met a Pakistani American chap called Saq. He lives in Cancun and is travelling from LA to Puerto Vallarta to ship his bike the rest of the way to Cancun. He was a very chatty fella, had lots of opinions on just about everything, and we swapped a few stories about bike trips and took a few photos.

Getting on the ferry took hours and when we did eventually get called to board, they put us down in the very lowest hold they had. A ramp had been opened up to take us down from the main deck that we arrived on and I had the ominous feeling that it might take some time to get off the ferry, particularly if it is full and the main deck gets loaded up with vehicles. With the bikes loaded and strapped down, we grabbed our gear and headed up to find our allocated seats, where we would spend the next 13-14 hours. Hauling all our crap up the narrow stairs and into the communal cabin was pretty tiring, particularly after spending so long waiting around to actually get loaded on to the ferry, but we did eventually find our allocated seats, which bizarrely where seats 14 and 15, but not next to each other. Hoping that no one would set next to us, we immediately commandeered the adjacent seat(s) to put our helmets, bags, boots, riding trousers, etc on as there was very limited space. Whilst Jorik didn’t have anyone sit next to him, a chap who must have boarded the ferry later, or was hanging out somewhere else, came and sat in the chair next to me after we had already been on the go for about an hour.

Dinner was served on the Ferry, and we had a chicken dish, which wasn’t too bad. I just hopped it didn’t cause any stomach problems as having the shits on the boat might not be ideal.

We had been warned that the TV might be on all night showing films dubbed into Spanish, and that the light may remain on for the entire crossing. Sure enough, there was a massive TV at the front of the communal cabin that was on, but there were only about 3 films shown before someone turned it off at around 11pm, and thankfully turned off the cabin light at the same time. Neither of us managed much sleep, and Jorik did brave the concept of lying flat on the hard floor to try to get some sleep for a few hours, but we were generally confined to the allocated seat to sleep in. It is fair to say that I was a grouchy bastard the next morning and keen to just get off the ferry and get going again.