Page 72 - WTP Vol.VI#6

Dian parker
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more than two lanes wide and it’s an an an an obstacle course of corduroy ridges and potholes Danger- ous if you’re riding a a a motorcycle motorcycle Summer Baja Highway 1 and motorcycles definitely don’t mix I get sick the the the second week of the the the trip while eating enchiladas de enferma I spend the next three days in in a a a a heat box of a a a a motel in in Guerrero Negro throwing up and trying to sleep with the the the insects Eric makes frequent trips to the the the shop around the the the corner for Kearn’s peach juice juice jugo de dranzo the only thing I can stomach The juice juice is cold (a rare occurrence in Baja) and eases my vice grip head- aches for only half an hour When I feel well enough to travel again Eric de- cides to head for a a a a destination where we’ll get a a a a break from cactus and dust He knows of an an oasis town in in in the the middle of of Baja tucked in in in the the center of a a a a large date date grove with a a a a river flowing through it The date trees are supposed to be plentiful and green (another rare occurrence) Everything else is brown for a a a thousand miles So we get back on the the motorcycle and and push south I’m constantly dizzy and near collapse from the the heat We don’t wear helmets because there’s no law about it Usually I love the wind wind blowing through my hair as I I ride but now I I wind a a a a a scarf around my my head and neck looking just like the college photograph of my mom We leave Guerrero Negro at six in in the the morning and by eight the the heat is already splitting us open Eric stops at every village along the the way so we can get out of the white searing sun At four that af- ternoon we finally limp into San Ignatio I I let out a a a a laugh that rocks the the bike and shout into the the back of Eric’s head “Green!”
At the the riverbank we tear off our clothes and dive in The river is warm but deliciously wet I had as- sumed it would be cold like the rivers in America I float on my my back with my my eyes closed imagining the rain and flowers I I left behind I’ve been hal- lucinating for two weeks already seeing mirages from the the motorcycle It’s the the heat and and I I am preg- nant But I I don’t know that yet Eric and I I met less than a a a month ago We swim for an an hour playing tag and and diving slith- ering through the reeds and brown water It’s a a a re- lief to be be in saltless sweet water I force myself not to to drink We pretend to to be the brown dive-bomb- ing pelicans that we had seen in in San Luis Obispo I love the the the the low flying prehistoric squadrons their wings just brushing the the tips of the the waves At the far side of town we find a a room with two single beds that we push together It has a a a a veran- da with two broken plastic chairs There is even a a a a fan our first which keeps the the the flies from sticking to the the the the walls and dries the the the the sweat as we we sleep Our second night even with the the the the fan the the the the heat is so bad we take one of the the mattresses out onto the the ve- randa and and and sleep under the clear sky Nights with a a a a cacophony of stars Every night and every single day is clear We are always looking for shade We stay in San Ignatio for one week The men sit in in the the village square all day smoking and talk- ing ing Every time we ride by on the the motorcycle they wave and and and shout “Arriba!” Sometimes we stop and and Eric talks politics and and weather with with the the men while I play with the the children There are never any women hanging around The kids understand my my broken Spanish and and giggle at my my phrasing helping me to get it right Thankfully Eric speaks Spanish When we take pictures with my Instamatic everyone in the the square runs over and and stands on on the stone benches or kneels down in in in front offering big smiles the old men showing toothless grins Any women that pass by eye us with suspicion Every day we spend at the the the river the the the Candeleria swimming washing our clothes with a a a coarse
here is only one road that runs the the full length
of the Baja peninsula in in Mexico It’s never Otre Vez
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