Bikepacking the Cape Loop of Baja Mexico

Words by Jess Oveson • Photos by Lindsay Ryder and Jen Higgins • January 2023

Another season has come, winter has descended like a thick blanket. Cozy in our homes we pad about in lined slippers, furnaces blaring as we watch the fury of early winter storms rage outside frosted windows. It’s high time to trade one extreme for another, and planning a winter getaway allows my mind to wander far far away. I’m inspired by the migratory path of the cinnamon teal, a rust colored duck species with brilliant blue only seen when the wing is open. Like the migratory monarch butterfly, the cinnamon teal leaves its home in the Mountain West each year for warmer climates along Baja’s coastline. I don’t have wings myself, but I do have wheels… The beauty of mountain biking? You see the world, one pedal at a time.

Jen pausing to appreciate the beauty of Baja (and a road that wasn't a total sand trap!)

Jen building up her bike and fueling for the riding to come!

Baja at first glance feels alien; sparse vegetation clings to intimidatingly rocky terrain as dramatic cliffs and formations clash against crystal clear aquamarine waters that beckon indulgent swimmers. This is a land shaped by ocean and wind. As anyone who rides bikes knows, wind builds character and here the wind feels boundless. It seems like it could blow forever, working against us as we pedal uphill…and then nudging us forward as we dip and curve along the exposed ledges overlooking that same vibrant sea.

“Give a man [or, ahem, a woman…a person!] a bike, and he[she/they]’ll explore for a lifetime.”

I ponder on how the people and cultures who have existed for millenia among this landscape viewed these dramatically desolate feeling lands. And yet as I pedal through, I’m deeply aware that the desert has its own secrets. I’m sure many have passed it by without a second glance, but as I come along a turn in my trail I see evidence of lizards and snakes skittering away for shelter left in the dust. I see the fluttering wings of a cactus wren as it abandons a saguaro, seeking safety from my intrusion to their solace. The animals here are familiar with solitude. The desert is not for everyone, demonstrated by the fact that even a place such as this, touched by so much ocean and beauty, is the most sparsely populated state in Mexico. The land here is much like the sea, placid on first glance, but teeming with life for those of us who slow down to gaze at it. Despite the rush I feel as I move along, these moments of quiet I take for myself have always made my journeys richer.

All packed up and ready to go.

Camping and snorkling at Calbo Pulmo National Marine Park where we saw sea turtles, manta rays and countless amazing fish.

Many estado unidenses (Americans) like myself are familiar with the fictional novels of author John Steinbeck. Steinbeck, however, wrote a sole non-fiction work - an extended naturalist journal from his travels through Baja’s Sea of Cortez in 1940. The world has changed in the more than half a century since he sailed here. Small panga fishing boats are seen zipping along, their four-stroke motors urging them across the sea at a speed far greater than that of my mountain bike churning along the dusty, rocky two-track and certainly at a speed unknown to the fishermen of Steinbeck’s Baja. Yet, so much is insusceptible to change - something that feels particularly true of Baja’s immutable natural landscape.

“Clinging to the coral, growing on it, burrowing into it, was a teeming fauna. Every piece…skittered and pulsed with life—little crabs and worms and snails. One small piece of coral might conceal 30 or 40 species, and the colors of the reef were electric.”

      -John Steinbeck

In this wild, sparsely populated place, a group of dedicated local mountain bikers maintain the trails. The paths wind through low, hardy vegetation that clings close to the ground and the rocks like the rattlesnakes and lizards that populate the interior of the state. Hiding from the sun and wind with root systems wide and shallow, spreading out wide to grasp at any rains that fall.

Building trails is not an easy undertaking in the best conditions, and while the rugged rocky terrain of the Baja Peninsula is exhilarating to ride, but does not yield to a soft touch. I think of these people who make this place their labor of love as resilient, steadfast, and shaped by the character of the weather here, much like the rock features we see along the coast. They are weathered, but they are free, creating a new destiny of trails and features completely their own. I have heard it said: “every mountain biker knows the contours of a country best.” I think that is as true here as ever.