EL Diablo Run 2021 Part 2
Our adventure picks up where we left off with the completion of the Biltwell "circle of death" races and continues the fun leading into another night of good times and some exploration of the local sights further south of San Felipe the next day including the incredible "Valle de Los Gigantes" with towering cacti reaching 60 foot in height. We then circle back to camp for the Choppers magazine bike show and end the weekend on another bar hopping rager in town before saddling up Monday morning to make the scorching trek back through the desert up Hwy 5 into Mexicali, then onward into the beautiful winding Southern California roads leading us to Temecula.
The heated and particularly perilous this year "circle of death" races have just now wrapped up leaving everyone splitting up into different groups back at camp. It's already setting in that your beachfront campsite is starting to feel like a bit like home yet you still thirst for more excitement wanting to make the most out your stay in the area. Many take off into town for food while others took laps on their bikes around the camp trying to wake their friends from their power naps, while the rest set back peacefully once again waiting to watch the sun to set over the sea of Cortez from the seat of their bikes or a nearby hammock. The funny sidenote about trying to sleep on an adventure like this, unless you've sprung for one of the nearby fancier hotel room spots, to the beach campers (the true rugged hero's of the EDR), the power nap sort of just becomes your only grip on sanity. Getting an hour or two here or there, giving in to your body's inherent need for rest yet still riding the wave of exhaustion to its crest. No "real sleep" will be had though until your back stateside and for most, the party rages on like that for 3 days straight.
After going pretty hard the night before I found myself hitting a wall as well and took to the comfort of a sandy cold tile floor in the room that Arizona wildmen Brad Gregory and Charlie "the Nomad" had rented for a little extra comfort. Something that seems so strange on the EDR, that idea of comfort, but you basically choose your level of wild vs. mild and it's nice to fall back on some small creature comforts somewhere in the middle for a bit when partying this hard. I later awoke to find the majority of my group had took to their bikes and gone into town where many of the other riders had made their way for the night. The San Felipe strip just on the edge of the sea is host to an impressive assortment of restaurants, bars and shops that make it easy to find something that fits anyone's taste. I made my way into town and found my crew feasting on towering plates of nachos bigger than the stomach contents of most mere mortals could consume. The hardworking townspeople of San Felipe are always so welcoming no matter how rowdy we've gotten in years past and this year especially the people of the town really needed the extra support. The effects of the pandemic hit San Felipe extremely hard, some places were even boarded up not being able to weather the storm of restrictions. The businesses that were able to survive were actually quite happy to once again see our weathered yet smiling faces and welcomed us with open arms. One bar owner had shared with me that his family run business had been closed for literally an entire year and they were facing losing everything if restrictions weren't fully lifted soon. So in the spirit of a good time and a sense of giving we hit all the favorite local alleyway dive bars and strip clubs and gave a little extra where we could. The night rounded out at the famed EDR spot "Table Dance Angels" one of only 2 Gentlemens clubs left in the town. The scandalously favorite and ever entertaining (quite frankly a little too wild to describe even on this blog) club "Lizards" unfortunately had succumb to the pandemic shutdowns and closed its doors for good so we made "Angels" our home for the night until it was time to return to the beach for some late night steak burritos and a couple more hours of that ever elusive sleep. Many of the locals made their way back to Rubens camp as well and joined our horde of rowdy consorts for a night of loud music, fireworks and dancing until the sun came up once again. You really havent seen a serious "fiesta" until you've experienced the EDR from start to finish.
The last day was now upon us and while wandering through the now strangely thinned out camps we decided that we too would find some other adventure in the area. On the last day in camp some riders get antsy and ditch town for their own run either over towards Ensanada or back up Hwy 5. Some just want to go find a good spot to ride locally and that's where our head was at, not ditching town but getting some wind our hair was definitely much needed. Venturing further South from San Felipe there are actually some great spots tucked between the desolate sizzling sand and one of which that holds dear to many riders of the EDR is the Valle de Los Gigantes (Valley of the Giants) that is home to an extraordinary and very rare and native form of Saguaro and Cardones cactus (carnegia gigantea) that can tower above you incredibly 30-60 feet or higher. These cactus can grow for literally hundreds of years with each individual arm taking 75+ years itself to grow. They can survive years on only small amounts of rainfall and come to weigh several tons. Truly an amazing and proud part of the local culture that is something well worth the jog down the coast to enjoy.
Having quite a bit of off road riding experience I decided to get brave and ignore the clearly posted signs that stated "4x4 riding only, do not go beyond this point" and took my quite heavy 90's evo dyna lowrider out into the sand where I successfully got a good quarter mile in between the feild of the incredible towering cacti. I stopped for what could have only been literally a total of 5 seconds to reach down and grab my camera when suddenly the thing you see that seems to only happen in the antics of an Indiana Jones adventure film began happening to me, quicksand, actual real quicksand. This mythological thing I had only seen in movies was now swallowing my tires at an alarming rate. Knowing that a quick aggressive twist of the throttle would dig me even deeper I shifted into second and chugged very slowly to a more level surface of sand, but as sand riding goes with stock Harley dunlop tires, you better tread lightly (literally). After some pretty close calls getting stuck once again I made it back to the group seeking shade under a small leaf covered structure. The temperatures there were peaking in the upper 90's and the need for water was growing ever more apparent so we set out back to the roads in search of a Roadside market.
We stumbled upon a crudely painted sign stating "Beer is here" and we knew we were saved. While regaining some hydration and filling our stomachs with a mix of strange Mexican junk food and delicious local fruit we decided to head even further south to a local hot springs. After conversing with some fellow EDR travelers who on their own seperate journey had also stumbled upon the market and vouched for the springs we jumped on the bikes and set off. While the idea of getting in hot water of any kind in that 90 degree heat was something a bit crazy we were in it for the local exploration anyway and headed down. Once on the edge of the water the smell of sulfur filled your nose, something noting that we had actually found a true hot springs. Realizing how much of the day we had ridden away we took a quick dip and jumped back on the bikes and headed straight back to camp just in time to catch the last half of the bike show.
The bike show this year judged by Choppers Magazine and the Biltwell crew and was already in full swing in the circle of death track once we arrived. The mayor of San Felipe while still very appreciative of our support of the town was happy to have us but he unfortunately was still upholding some strict restrictions on gatherings in the center of town and so the bike show that normally would have happened right there on the main strip (by the famous San Felipe sign like the 2019 run) was unfortunately moved back to the circle of death track at Rubens camp to keep in accordance with everyone's wishes. Honestly it worked out for the best and made for a very gritty and unique feel that was so perfect for the complete EDR experience. Being that it's pretty hard to find any showbike only trailer queens all the way down there, most riders didnt mind getting their bikes showered with a little extra dust in the midst of a proper presentation. Some of the fellow patrons even gave the bikes a little "Holister rally" decoration with trash and beer cans to give that extra flair needed to stand out in the lineup. Cary from choppers magazine and Otto from Biltwelll had the chosen bikes line up and everyone gathered to sing praise to the winning bikes but also give the bike owners a good "roasting" in the process.
The bike show is always a cool way to cap off the weekend as it is like a presentation of some of the raddest rides to make the trek. There is no discrimination either which makes it such a cool thing see. While of course Harley's make up the majority there are still some really cool vintage Japanese bikes mixed in as well as a couple European and British.
As the bike show began to wind down the riders and builders began to mount their bikes and roll off to their perspective camps but one trend emerged that was a fun cap to the festivities, many builders invited each other to take a rip around the remnants of the circle of death track on each other's motorcycles. One moment we really enjoyed was seeing last year's Greasy Dozen builder DJ Snyder pass off his wild Suzuki chopper to Timmy Marr for a good spin. Even though Timmy rode in a Sugar bear springer sporty of the same 10 foot stance Dj's raked out inline four was certainly a whole different beast to tackle.
In regards to wild in line four choppers once we headed back over to Rubens camp we caught another good glimpse of one of our favorite El Diablo run riders who goes by the name of "Crazy Jer" who brought his acclaimed stampede race competing Kawasaki KZ750 chopper. A bike he has been laying down serious miles on for almost a decade now. He let me shoot some pics of it and got to talk about the bike a little and we parted ways. Later we found out that something pretty insane happened to the bike the next day and like I was talking about in last weeks feature everything that happens in Mexico has a different set of consequences and circumstances than if those things were to happen in the states. Situations become more volatile and dangerous and can often come with making some very hard choices in order to make it back home in one piece. During his trek back up through the desert something went catastrophic with Jer's KZ750 motor. Faced with the notion of sweating to death in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere insanely far from home and nowhere near any kind of help, he made the very difficult decision to leave the bike there in the dirt. He stripped the tank off and what supplies he could carry and hopped on another friends bike and rode 2 up all the way back to Colorado. We read later on Chicken Rick's feed that Jer said "it wasnt the first bike I've sacrificed to the desert and it probably won't be the last!" Apparently some friends went to the spot trying to embark on a recovery mission for the bike but the locals had spotted it to soon and snatched it up before they could get there. Just like that it disappeared into the desert hopefully to be rebuilt and ridden into San Felipe once again by one of the brave baja riders. Wouldn't that be a trip to see it roll into the 2023 EDR!
Wandering back through camp the vibe was very light hearted and free many took to the beach for one last dip in the water before sundown and others got a good start on filling their belly with modelo before saddling up to head back into town for another night of bar hopping and debauchery begins to sink in for many who would be content to just live the rest of their days on the back of their bike eating fish tacos on that beach side camp that the punishing highway awaits them in the am so it's their duty to make sure they live up to night with a sense of purpose. Our crew headed back into town and did just that.
In the morning we said our goodbyes to our fellow heathens, gassed up and headed back towards the infamous highway 5 and began our trek back in reverse through the searing heat and incredible landscapes of the baja desert. Something that is of note is, everything always looks different on the return trip, I don't know if it's the landscape itself or if it's the state of your mind but it just doesnt look and feel the same and that's not a bad thing. We stopped once again at the La Ventana market where the temps were a good 20 degrees cooler now than from the days before and met up with some other EDR riders, checked the bikes and were off again. Before reaching the border one of our group actually ended up having his entire carb come off of the intake and he held it on by hand until I could safety wire it back on (a fix I'm told got him all the way back to his home state of Montana). Just before the border and while sitting in traffic in town we caught up with our bunk mate Brad Gregory who had found a loaner motorcycle to borrow after his engine blew up on the way down. Like anything tends to go on the EDR of course, the clutch cable of the loaner chopper snapped halfway and left him with an interesting sequence of reving and push starting the bike at every single stoplight until he finally like a champ pushed the bike all the way across the border. In sadistic fashion it was cruel yet wildly entertaining to watch this process played out at every single stop but we have to commend Brad on his spirit to do whatever it takes to get himself across that border. A spirit that is shared by so many other riders who also experienced wild circumstances of their own doing everything they could to get their broken bikes and battered bodies home. Something that makes the completion of this run ever more satisfying and a thing of accomplishment, when you take off on the El Diablo Run, you'll be amazed at times what obstacles you can overcome with the helping hand of others and the ever enduring will to survive.
Photos and words by Mike Vandegriff
The heated and particularly perilous this year "circle of death" races have just now wrapped up leaving everyone splitting up into different groups back at camp. It's already setting in that your beachfront campsite is starting to feel like a bit like home yet you still thirst for more excitement wanting to make the most out your stay in the area. Many take off into town for food while others took laps on their bikes around the camp trying to wake their friends from their power naps, while the rest set back peacefully once again waiting to watch the sun to set over the sea of Cortez from the seat of their bikes or a nearby hammock. The funny sidenote about trying to sleep on an adventure like this, unless you've sprung for one of the nearby fancier hotel room spots, to the beach campers (the true rugged hero's of the EDR), the power nap sort of just becomes your only grip on sanity. Getting an hour or two here or there, giving in to your body's inherent need for rest yet still riding the wave of exhaustion to its crest. No "real sleep" will be had though until your back stateside and for most, the party rages on like that for 3 days straight.
After going pretty hard the night before I found myself hitting a wall as well and took to the comfort of a sandy cold tile floor in the room that Arizona wildmen Brad Gregory and Charlie "the Nomad" had rented for a little extra comfort. Something that seems so strange on the EDR, that idea of comfort, but you basically choose your level of wild vs. mild and it's nice to fall back on some small creature comforts somewhere in the middle for a bit when partying this hard. I later awoke to find the majority of my group had took to their bikes and gone into town where many of the other riders had made their way for the night. The San Felipe strip just on the edge of the sea is host to an impressive assortment of restaurants, bars and shops that make it easy to find something that fits anyone's taste. I made my way into town and found my crew feasting on towering plates of nachos bigger than the stomach contents of most mere mortals could consume. The hardworking townspeople of San Felipe are always so welcoming no matter how rowdy we've gotten in years past and this year especially the people of the town really needed the extra support. The effects of the pandemic hit San Felipe extremely hard, some places were even boarded up not being able to weather the storm of restrictions. The businesses that were able to survive were actually quite happy to once again see our weathered yet smiling faces and welcomed us with open arms. One bar owner had shared with me that his family run business had been closed for literally an entire year and they were facing losing everything if restrictions weren't fully lifted soon. So in the spirit of a good time and a sense of giving we hit all the favorite local alleyway dive bars and strip clubs and gave a little extra where we could. The night rounded out at the famed EDR spot "Table Dance Angels" one of only 2 Gentlemens clubs left in the town. The scandalously favorite and ever entertaining (quite frankly a little too wild to describe even on this blog) club "Lizards" unfortunately had succumb to the pandemic shutdowns and closed its doors for good so we made "Angels" our home for the night until it was time to return to the beach for some late night steak burritos and a couple more hours of that ever elusive sleep. Many of the locals made their way back to Rubens camp as well and joined our horde of rowdy consorts for a night of loud music, fireworks and dancing until the sun came up once again. You really havent seen a serious "fiesta" until you've experienced the EDR from start to finish.
The last day was now upon us and while wandering through the now strangely thinned out camps we decided that we too would find some other adventure in the area. On the last day in camp some riders get antsy and ditch town for their own run either over towards Ensanada or back up Hwy 5. Some just want to go find a good spot to ride locally and that's where our head was at, not ditching town but getting some wind our hair was definitely much needed. Venturing further South from San Felipe there are actually some great spots tucked between the desolate sizzling sand and one of which that holds dear to many riders of the EDR is the Valle de Los Gigantes (Valley of the Giants) that is home to an extraordinary and very rare and native form of Saguaro and Cardones cactus (carnegia gigantea) that can tower above you incredibly 30-60 feet or higher. These cactus can grow for literally hundreds of years with each individual arm taking 75+ years itself to grow. They can survive years on only small amounts of rainfall and come to weigh several tons. Truly an amazing and proud part of the local culture that is something well worth the jog down the coast to enjoy.
Having quite a bit of off road riding experience I decided to get brave and ignore the clearly posted signs that stated "4x4 riding only, do not go beyond this point" and took my quite heavy 90's evo dyna lowrider out into the sand where I successfully got a good quarter mile in between the feild of the incredible towering cacti. I stopped for what could have only been literally a total of 5 seconds to reach down and grab my camera when suddenly the thing you see that seems to only happen in the antics of an Indiana Jones adventure film began happening to me, quicksand, actual real quicksand. This mythological thing I had only seen in movies was now swallowing my tires at an alarming rate. Knowing that a quick aggressive twist of the throttle would dig me even deeper I shifted into second and chugged very slowly to a more level surface of sand, but as sand riding goes with stock Harley dunlop tires, you better tread lightly (literally). After some pretty close calls getting stuck once again I made it back to the group seeking shade under a small leaf covered structure. The temperatures there were peaking in the upper 90's and the need for water was growing ever more apparent so we set out back to the roads in search of a Roadside market.
We stumbled upon a crudely painted sign stating "Beer is here" and we knew we were saved. While regaining some hydration and filling our stomachs with a mix of strange Mexican junk food and delicious local fruit we decided to head even further south to a local hot springs. After conversing with some fellow EDR travelers who on their own seperate journey had also stumbled upon the market and vouched for the springs we jumped on the bikes and set off. While the idea of getting in hot water of any kind in that 90 degree heat was something a bit crazy we were in it for the local exploration anyway and headed down. Once on the edge of the water the smell of sulfur filled your nose, something noting that we had actually found a true hot springs. Realizing how much of the day we had ridden away we took a quick dip and jumped back on the bikes and headed straight back to camp just in time to catch the last half of the bike show.
The bike show this year judged by Choppers Magazine and the Biltwell crew and was already in full swing in the circle of death track once we arrived. The mayor of San Felipe while still very appreciative of our support of the town was happy to have us but he unfortunately was still upholding some strict restrictions on gatherings in the center of town and so the bike show that normally would have happened right there on the main strip (by the famous San Felipe sign like the 2019 run) was unfortunately moved back to the circle of death track at Rubens camp to keep in accordance with everyone's wishes. Honestly it worked out for the best and made for a very gritty and unique feel that was so perfect for the complete EDR experience. Being that it's pretty hard to find any showbike only trailer queens all the way down there, most riders didnt mind getting their bikes showered with a little extra dust in the midst of a proper presentation. Some of the fellow patrons even gave the bikes a little "Holister rally" decoration with trash and beer cans to give that extra flair needed to stand out in the lineup. Cary from choppers magazine and Otto from Biltwelll had the chosen bikes line up and everyone gathered to sing praise to the winning bikes but also give the bike owners a good "roasting" in the process.
The bike show is always a cool way to cap off the weekend as it is like a presentation of some of the raddest rides to make the trek. There is no discrimination either which makes it such a cool thing see. While of course Harley's make up the majority there are still some really cool vintage Japanese bikes mixed in as well as a couple European and British.
As the bike show began to wind down the riders and builders began to mount their bikes and roll off to their perspective camps but one trend emerged that was a fun cap to the festivities, many builders invited each other to take a rip around the remnants of the circle of death track on each other's motorcycles. One moment we really enjoyed was seeing last year's Greasy Dozen builder DJ Snyder pass off his wild Suzuki chopper to Timmy Marr for a good spin. Even though Timmy rode in a Sugar bear springer sporty of the same 10 foot stance Dj's raked out inline four was certainly a whole different beast to tackle.
In regards to wild in line four choppers once we headed back over to Rubens camp we caught another good glimpse of one of our favorite El Diablo run riders who goes by the name of "Crazy Jer" who brought his acclaimed stampede race competing Kawasaki KZ750 chopper. A bike he has been laying down serious miles on for almost a decade now. He let me shoot some pics of it and got to talk about the bike a little and we parted ways. Later we found out that something pretty insane happened to the bike the next day and like I was talking about in last weeks feature everything that happens in Mexico has a different set of consequences and circumstances than if those things were to happen in the states. Situations become more volatile and dangerous and can often come with making some very hard choices in order to make it back home in one piece. During his trek back up through the desert something went catastrophic with Jer's KZ750 motor. Faced with the notion of sweating to death in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere insanely far from home and nowhere near any kind of help, he made the very difficult decision to leave the bike there in the dirt. He stripped the tank off and what supplies he could carry and hopped on another friends bike and rode 2 up all the way back to Colorado. We read later on Chicken Rick's feed that Jer said "it wasnt the first bike I've sacrificed to the desert and it probably won't be the last!" Apparently some friends went to the spot trying to embark on a recovery mission for the bike but the locals had spotted it to soon and snatched it up before they could get there. Just like that it disappeared into the desert hopefully to be rebuilt and ridden into San Felipe once again by one of the brave baja riders. Wouldn't that be a trip to see it roll into the 2023 EDR!
Wandering back through camp the vibe was very light hearted and free many took to the beach for one last dip in the water before sundown and others got a good start on filling their belly with modelo before saddling up to head back into town for another night of bar hopping and debauchery begins to sink in for many who would be content to just live the rest of their days on the back of their bike eating fish tacos on that beach side camp that the punishing highway awaits them in the am so it's their duty to make sure they live up to night with a sense of purpose. Our crew headed back into town and did just that.
In the morning we said our goodbyes to our fellow heathens, gassed up and headed back towards the infamous highway 5 and began our trek back in reverse through the searing heat and incredible landscapes of the baja desert. Something that is of note is, everything always looks different on the return trip, I don't know if it's the landscape itself or if it's the state of your mind but it just doesnt look and feel the same and that's not a bad thing. We stopped once again at the La Ventana market where the temps were a good 20 degrees cooler now than from the days before and met up with some other EDR riders, checked the bikes and were off again. Before reaching the border one of our group actually ended up having his entire carb come off of the intake and he held it on by hand until I could safety wire it back on (a fix I'm told got him all the way back to his home state of Montana). Just before the border and while sitting in traffic in town we caught up with our bunk mate Brad Gregory who had found a loaner motorcycle to borrow after his engine blew up on the way down. Like anything tends to go on the EDR of course, the clutch cable of the loaner chopper snapped halfway and left him with an interesting sequence of reving and push starting the bike at every single stoplight until he finally like a champ pushed the bike all the way across the border. In sadistic fashion it was cruel yet wildly entertaining to watch this process played out at every single stop but we have to commend Brad on his spirit to do whatever it takes to get himself across that border. A spirit that is shared by so many other riders who also experienced wild circumstances of their own doing everything they could to get their broken bikes and battered bodies home. Something that makes the completion of this run ever more satisfying and a thing of accomplishment, when you take off on the El Diablo Run, you'll be amazed at times what obstacles you can overcome with the helping hand of others and the ever enduring will to survive.
Photos and words by Mike Vandegriff