There's something about riding in Baja that hits different. 

It's not as wild as it used to be. It's tough for the 2025 brain to fathom the time before cell phones, GPS maps, and using the internet for planning. Look at paper map, drive until you can place yourself in the landscape using visual cues, ask questions, make this many turns and look for the taco spot with the red sign. Can you make it on the gas you have? Is there gas at the next town? 

What a different world it was. 

Now we have handheld devices telling us everything, on-bars GPS pointing to the next turn, Google reviews of hotels and taco spots, credit card readers at every business, Garmin InReach devices strapped to our shoulder, and even helicopter extraction available in the event you get seriously hurt. And, of course, that new shiny thing called Star Link. 

But the risk is what we're all after. Risk is the price paid for opportunity, and Baja has always offered lots of risk. The majority of Mosko's crew has been riding in Baja in the post-peak risk era. It's still risky, albeit far less so than it once was.

The ride locations are still farther out there, the resource planning still more hazy, the consequence of screw-ups still more severe. Baja isn't the place to be caught unawares or find yourself on the back foot. 

So it hits different. You get that extra punch of adrenaline on the route, you work a little harder to stifle the voice in your head reminding you of the magnitude of consequences, and you bask in that higher level of accomplishment when you put the kickstand down at camp in the evening. 

And of course, the riding is epic. It's not until you ride Baja that you get what it is that people have been saying for decades. It is the place, the gold standard of gear testing, the only location that matters if you want bragging rights. The rocks are worse, and more sustained. The silt beds and ruts are deeper. The sand washes go on for longer and have more toaster-sized rocks waiting to catch you slipping. If your bike is set up right and your gear is tight, then maybe you'll ride some of the best desert terrain available, and earn that Modelo Especial back at camp. 

We found plenty of good riding in Valle de los Cirios. There's quite a bit of fast, flowing two track through that area, making it a playground for bikes like the T7 and KTM 890. A lot of areas in Baja--especially those with heavy race traffic--would be less hospitable to the heavier, shorter suspension-traveling machines. But the area between highway 1 and Costa Salvalje might be the perfect zone for the middleweight adventure bikes, with some smoother roads available that line up nicely with shorter suspension travel and thirst for higher speeds. 

Not all of the riding is great. The race course sections are getting worse and worse. The power pulse of 1000 horsepower LS motors laying down traction through 40" desert race tires on a late model trophy truck chop the race course sections more each year. But finding the good routes just ups the stoke, after traveling the beat up terrain. A good navigation solution is to download the old Baja 1000 race course GPX files and just avoid them whenever possible. Or, look for the giant whoops and trophy truck chop, and don't turn down that way! 

There also happens to be a ton of singletrack once you're south of El Rosario. Local legend Dave Wonderly gave us the insiders tour on some of his extra secret sauce and some brand new trail he's putting in, and we spent some time exploring some of the more established trails that flow through the tight washes and fast, smooth desert in the area.  

The singletrack runs the gamut from tight, 1st gear turns around granite and Cardon; to fast, 8 ft wide sand wash; to 4th gear flowing trails across the desert floor. There's even a little technical stuff for the hard enduro-inclined rider. 

The camp sites were all gorgeous. During the 2021 Baja 1000, while pre-running to Bay of LA, I stumbled upon a pretty sick lollipop of a spur road off the race course. At the end of the turn around is a (presumably) hundreds of years old Cardon, flanked by huge smooth granite boulders. I'd been scheming on returning to this spot since then, and it proved a great spot to post up for the week. 

The perception of time standing still is strong whenever I camp and ride in Baja. I always end up feeling the world melt away--on trips with no cell service this is always presents more strongly. But somehow time continues, and one morning you wake up sore and bleary-eyed and full of endorphins, and its time to reverse the trek and head north. 

But the goal is to get down back to Baja for more, on a frequent enough schedule, that your gas tank for risk and reward stays full all year. I'm already looking forward to the next one.