After Ensenada my next destination was the Playa Calavera. A WarmShower host, who was not there to offer me a place to stay, suggested that I could escape the noise of the busy Transpenninsular highway 1, by going down to the beach where I could also camp. Sounds great! In the town of Santo Tomas where my turn-off was, I even talked to some locals, who said the road was paved, only the last part had a difficult descent. Okay...
Well, it turned out that only the first 200 meters or so were paved. The rest? Dirt of all types and variations: hard packed clay, which was no problem to ride on. Gravel, which was more difficult. Sand, where my bike liked to slip, so I tried to avoid it. Worst of all, however, was the powdery dust, filled with large rocks. This formed a mean trap, as it looked just like the hard clay, but it made my bike slip nonetheless. All this on a steep up-and-down rollercoaster that didn't even feel like it was taking me downhill.
As much as I cursed this road, amazingly I rode most of it. Until I came to the last two kilometers, which became steeper and sandier than ever. There I had no other option but to walk my bike, while keeping my brakes pulled, to keep it from taking off without me. That's how I arrived at the Playa Calavera.
Calavera in Spanish means death skull. Not the round head-bone we carry around on our shoulders, which is called craneo. Calavera is literally the skull of the dead, as in on the pirate flag, or the Day of the Dead imagery. As for the beach, it was as beautiful as if I had died and gone to heaven. A completely secluded beach. Mom's house, where nobody would disturb my peace.
I pitched my tent, locked my bike to a tree, with the front wheel removed, because you never know, Then I climbed down the shore and took a dip in the cold ocean to wash off the thick layer of dust and sweat caked onto my body. Needless to say, that night I slept like a baby.
The next day I had to get moving, precisely because that there was nothing there on that beach. I still had enough water, but not for long, so I had to get back to civilization to find some. The same road continued along the beach to the next town, about 10 km further. However, those turned out to be the longest 10 kms for me.
Struggling up on one of those sandy inclines, my chain suddenly broke. It was the master link, which turned out to be the weakest link. After fiddling around with it for quite a while, I eventually fixed it, but it lost its flexibility. As a result it kept skipping, no matter which gear I rode in.
In the end I managed to reach the next town, where I stocked up on water and fruit, along with useful intelligence: I could possibly get a new chain in the town of San Vicente. There were two ways: one was a direct way of 20 km on a sandy road. - NO THANKS! The other was an asphalted road, kinda backtracking to the highway 1, also about 20 km. From there it was another 20 km to San Vicente. I gladly opted for the extra 20 km.
Arriving in San Vicente I felt deadly exhausted. It was also a late afternoon on a Sunday, and there was no chance I could get a bike chain. So I booked a room at a hotel, where I was happy to take a shower and wash my clothes... once they had called the water truck, just for me, since there was no water in the whole town.
The next day I set out early morning to find a chain, got one right away, and fixed my bike. My new chain doesn't even have a master link! Then I allowed myself a hearty breakfast, stocked up on supplies, and by noon I was on my way to my next adventure.
