Here’s my final words in my most recent article in the DailyCamera

CABO SAN LUCAS, Mexico — To all the mothers out there who worried about me, and especially my own, you can now relax. I’ve made it safely to Cabo San Lucas.

The final 1,000 miles down Baja California was a dream. Everyone who knew about my route through Mexico warned me of all the supposed dangers, but I met only wonderful and generous people. There were no banditos or gun-wielding narcos, and I never once felt in danger.

I’d actually say that Mexico has been the most welcoming portion of the entire trip. I’ve never waved to so many people from the seat of my bike in my life.

Every time a car or truck passed me, the driver would wave or honk. These were the only dangerous moments on the trip — I didn’t want to be a rude gringo, so I always returned the salutations. I’d quickly take my hands off the handlebars and wave back, momentarily losing control of my bike. I went off the road a couple of times, but luckily no crashes into cactus fields.

The range of beauty in Baja — the desolate cactus forests in the north, the lush date-palm oasis of San Ignacio, the crystal clear waters at the Bay of Conception and, finally, the famous Arco in Cabo San Lucas — is astonishing.

Tropical Storm Georgette passed through the past couple of days and provided me with the first raindrops of the entire ride. There’s nothing like getting rained on in the desert. It’s the warm, refreshing kind of rain that cools off the body and invigorates the soul.

The vacation town of Cabo is unlike anything I’ve seen in the rest of sparsely populated Baja. It’s filled with huge resorts and boardwalks lined with expensive restaurants. I felt a bit out of place rolling into town Thursday with my grubby clothes and muddy bike.

It’s crazy to think that just last week I was sleeping behind a junky old rancho in the middle of nowhere, and now I’m in the middle of a posh Mexican resort. Needless to say, my search for a cheap plate of rice and beans is difficult here. It’s a good thing I have some leftover peanut butter and jelly in my pack.

Once again, as in all my bicycle trips, the best part of this journey has been the people I’ve met. The generosity began with a friendly bike shop owner outside Victoria, Canada, and continued all the way to the bottom of Baja. I’m a believer that 99.9 percent of the people in this world are good-hearted, and my bike adventures have always led me to special people.

The main question I get from people, usually followed by an inquisitive facial expression, is: “Why would you do this?” I guess most people don’t see the fun in sitting on a tiny bike seat eight hours a day for six weeks.

I always respond by saying that my enjoyment doesn’t come from the physical act of pedaling. I love traveling by bicycle because it’s an amazing mode of transportation that allows me to experience the world at the perfect pace, 15 mph. At this speed, you can feel, touch, smell and enjoy every inch of the adventure.

Along with being treated to some of the most beautiful nature in the world — the giant redwoods, the Big Sur coastline and the beaches of Mexico — I had the opportunity to share a once-in-a-lifetime adventure with my brother.

I’m excited to be finished with this trip, but my work is not done. I’ll still continue to raise money for Community Cycles and gather signatures for the People for Bikes campaign. My goal is to inspire others to ride bicycles more often and get kids hooked early. I’m a believer in the power of bikes to change the world.

Now I think it’s time for a well-deserved cerveza on the beach.

Adios amigos, until the next adventure.

Read more: Van Duzer hits the end of the road: Cabo San Lucas – Boulder Daily Camera http://www.dailycamera.com/news/ci_16157633#ixzz10PyEs469
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SAN IGNACIO, Baja California — Although I’ve been on this adventure for more than a month, I’d say these past five days have been the most exciting. No offense to Canada and the U.S. It’s just that Baja is another world.

I started pedaling in Ensenada, about 70 miles south of Tijuana. My buddy Richie thought it would be best to drive me across the border to avoid the crazy mess of traffic. In a way I thought it was cheating, but I figure I’ve taken ferries on this trip already, so I looked at this as a quick ferry ride to avoid some chaos.

As I pedaled south out of Ensenada, I was immediately showered with honks, waves and fist pumping. It felt like the entire town was cheering me on. I figured they were excited to see I was flying the Mexican flag, but the people here are also just friendly and enjoy showing emotion.

I’ve been here five days and haven’t once felt in danger. The only real danger is running out of water.

I carry an extra gallon with me at all times, which I usually drink in about three to four hours. The temperatures hover around 100 degrees, and there are often 70 miles between “towns” or, I should say, tiny ranchos.

The one time I came close to running out of water, a friendly trucker came to the rescue. It was about 4 p.m., I had ridden 80 tough miles and I was sweating like a pig. I saw a semi truck parked off the side of the road. I asked the driver where I could get water, and he told with a smile, “Esta muy lejos, amigo.” (It’s very far.)

He then reached over to the passenger side and pulled out a gallon jug and handed it to me. “Te vas a necesitar eso,” (You’re going to need this.) I said “gracias” 1,000 times and high-fived my new friend, Jorge. I gulped down half the jug and hit the road feeling invigorated. Warm water never tasted so good.

The only highway down the peninsula is narrow and windy. It’s so beat-up and crumbly in some sections I might as well be mountain biking, so it’s a good thing I have shocks. But it’s not all that dangerous — there’s hardly any traffic, and I usually get passed with plenty of room.

The truckers are the most polite. I usually hear a friendly “beep beep” from their horn as they near me; they then slow down and give me plenty of space. It’s the cars with the California license plates and surfboards on the roof that have buzzed by me the closest.

Most mornings, I have the road all to myself. I take these calm moments to gaze out at the stunning, if desolate, scenery.

I’ve taken a liking to the boojum cactus. It’s a tall, twisty, pole-like plant with a pouf of yellow flowers at the top. I’ve heard that Dr. Seuss got inspiration from these cacti for many of his funky drawings.

There’s also the mighty cardon, a huge green cactus that can reach 60 feet tall, the redwood of the desert. I feel lucky to be traveling through these forests of unique cacti; the boojum and cardon are only found in the Baja and small sections of the Sonoran desert.

Unlike in the U.S., there aren’t any conveniently placed state campgrounds to lay my head at night. Toward the end of each day, I begin to search out little ranchos. These small ranches serve as rest stops for truckers, offering food and a bucket bath.

I’ve been welcomed with open arms by a couple of nice families — it never ceases to amaze me how generous the people are. It’s much safer than camping in the middle of the desert, and after dinner I always look forward to watching cheesy novelas.

If the biking wasn’t fun enough, I also happened to arrive during an important week. It’s Mexico’s 200th year of independence, and there are red, green and white flags everywhere.

Until today I had a small Mexican flag on my trailer, but thanks to a friendly soldier at a military checkpoint, I now have a huge one. I usually get waved past the checkpoints, but today I got chatted up by a group of curious soldiers. They wanted to know all about my trip, and before I pedaled off, one of the guys ran up to me with the flag in his hand. “Para ti, amigo.”

Viva Mexico!

Read more: Van Duzer crosses the border to Mexican cheers – Boulder Daily Camera http://www.dailycamera.com/get-out/ci_16095820#ixzz0znEdjICH
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SAN DIEGO — I’ve ridden about 2,000 miles down the Pacific Coast and had 26 days of dreamy riding conditions.

The beautiful blue ocean is always to the right, there’s usually a pleasant coastal breeze and, for the most part, the shoulders have been wide.

But pedaling through Los Angeles wasn’t so pleasant. I’d say that it was a nightmare. From Redondo Beach to Huntington Beach, I had to navigate through 27 miles of highway hell.

The Pacific Coast Highway is actually designated as a bike route through this area, but the only evidence I saw of this “safe route” were cute little signs with a picture of a bike posted on the traffic signals. What a joke.

I’d always heard that L.A. traffic was crazy, and this experience gave me a first-hand look. Cars constantly zoomed past me, there was no shoulder, and the side of the road was crumbling and full of potholes. The most unnerving vehicles were the semi trucks, with their deafening noise as they rumble down the road.

The scariest riding was when I had to maneuver through freeway exits and onramps. I’d race to the right side of the road, wait for traffic to subside and then bolt across the lane as quickly as possible. I had to do this a couple of times in the Long Beach area to avoid getting onto Interstate 5.

Adding to the misery were the horrible smells. The car exhaust was bad enough, but when mixed with the plumes from oil refineries, it created a putrid potion of pollution that brought tears to my eyes.

The scenery was not inspiring, either. I rode past what seemed like a giant strip mall and every chain restaurant in existence. Thinking about the coastline at Big Sur kept me going — I ignored everything around me and replaced the ugliness with happy thoughts.

I finally made my way out of the gauntlet just north of Huntington Beach. To my delight, I found a wonderful bike path along the ocean. It was the most beautiful slab of concrete I’d ever seen. I had found my safe zone — the cars could no longer get me, and the memories of crossing freeways were quickly replaced with sounds of waves crashing on the beach. I let out a huge sigh of relief and pedaled in peace once again.

It was a scary morning on the bike but, all in all, worth it. The other 26 days of beautiful riding have completely overpowered my sketchy little jaunt through L.A.

Canada and the U.S. have been good to me, and now it’s time to cross into my third and final North American country, Mexico.

The Baja California peninsula looks amazing. I’ll be traveling 1,000 miles down to Cabo San Lucas on the world’s longest peninsula, passing through beautiful deserts and cute little beach towns. The navigation will be simple: There’s only one road down to the bottom.

My main concern will be a lack of water. I’ve looked at the map, and there are a few sections through scorching deserts with no services. Needless to say, most of the weight I’ll be carrying will be jugs of H2O.

I also realize that it may be a little dangerous. Everyone has reminded me of the drug war situation, but I’m confident that I’ll be just fine. My experiences traveling the world are that the good people far outnumber the bad.

Besides, what would a drug lord want with a stinky gringo on a bike?

Read more: Van Duzer survives L.A. traffic, strip malls – Boulder Daily Camera http://www.dailycamera.com/get-out/ci_16034970#ixzz0z5x53sdT
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