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Some trips feel like a vacation. Others feel like a reset. Riding dirt bikes through Baja, Mexico, with Rabaconda and our legendary badass Baja Bound guides managed to be both.
Fresh off AIMExpo and track walk before Anaheim 1 Supercross, we headed south at 7 a.m. Sunday for a four-day dirt bike tour across the top of the Baja peninsula.
None of us had ridden in Baja before, so we had no real expectations and no idea what to expect. We trusted in the people leading us and the red machines beneath us (all Hondas except one). What followed felt like a riding vacation meditation and easily became one of my most memorable “work trips” of all time.
“This is the way to live.”
The sign at the Southern California breakfast diner read “When life gives you lemons, make something sweet.”
From there, we rolled toward the Tecate border to meet the Baja Bound crew. Tim, Ron, El Jefe and Justin greeted us just before 9 a.m. to a fleet of 8 perfectly prepped bikes to choose from, all with fresh tires and brake pads on every machine. (I checked.) We would be covering more than 500 miles in four days, and we were all smiles picking out our trusty steads.
Tim joked, “If you want to ride with us, you have to ride a Honda.”
After gearing up, a quick riders meeting and Tim’s instructions for the border crossing, (papers out, helmet and gloves off, passport in-hand) we rode our motorcycles across and parked on the Mexico side to verify documents with the Mexican authorities. By 11 a.m., we were rolling through town and officially riding in Baja!
My smile stayed that big for the next four days. The Baja Bound guides thought of everything and constantly went out of their way to accommodate us.
It didn’t take long to realize this was more special than we imagined. The dirt was loaded with moisture. Pure hero dirt.
“This might be the best weather I’ve ever had down here,” Justin said.
Less than five miles into our first singletrack Ron, riding sweep, radioed up to Tim: “Oh, we’ve got real riders today. We’re good.”
That set the tone for the day. Flowing two-track mized with some technical singletrack. The kind of riding you dream about.
Near Ensenada, we stopped by a creek for a proper snack break and stumbled upon a family celebrating a little girl’s birthday. They walked down to the water and lit candles on her birthday cake while standing in the stream. It was one of those simple moments I’ll never forget.
By 3:30 p.m., we had our first mechanical in a bright green meadow. One of the stators must have gone out. A classic Baja Issue. That’s when I experienced my first, but not last, “Baja push.”
110 miles later, we rolled into Horsepower Ranch on fumes just before sunset. El Jefe greeted us with a full salsa bar and bottomless margaritas, confirming what we already knew. These tour guides knew exactly what they were doing.
After showers, we posted up by the fire with our feet up, waiting on dinner and previewing the next three days.
The adventure officially kicked off with custom jerseys, stickers, posters and nicknames for us all on Baja Throttle Fiesta 2026. Call me La Jenny.
To the San Juans we go.
I was up with the sun, waking to the sound of our bikes being serviced, spokes tightened and brakes checked. We ate breakfast by the fire with homemade tortillas and were geared up and riding north by 9:30 a.m.
We climbed into the high pine forests and sections of the old Baja racecourse where temperatures dropped and views stretched forever. We passed fully loaded touring bicyclists heading south, some we would see again two days later!
“Why would you want to do that especially when there’s motorcycles invented,” Ron laughed.
By midmorning, we stopped for snacks before diving into flowing forest trails, rocky two-track, technical ridges, a bit of bushwhacking and smooth sandy washes.
Around midday, we rolled past wild horses frolicking in the greenest grass I’ve ever seen before. Then, as if on cue, we rounded a corner to find a van and two EZ-Up tents appeared with a full trailside lunch waiting for us! Hot food, cold drinks and hospitality that continued to blow us away day after day. Fresh tortillas, barbecue chicken, steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, guacamole, salsa and a full chip bar, along with authentic Coca-Cola, Fanta and apple juice. What more could we want?
We rode deeper into the mountains where the dirt turned dark and moist, prompting repeated disbelief. “I can’t believe this is Mexico.”
By the time we reached Coyote Ranch that evening with margaritas waiting, we had logged 132 miles. “A lot more than yesterday,” became a running theme.
Baja always delivers more than you expect, and we never wanted it to end.
After a homemade dinner, we shared stories by the fire to cap off another unforgettable day.
“Without the people, you know, the people make the place everywhere we go,” Tim said.
Our fearless leader, Tim Morton, from Baja Bound Moto
Day three was the kind of riding that spoils you forever.
We were rolling by 9:30 a.m. and within minutes had climbed hundreds of feet straight out of camp to sweeping overlooks that felt unreal. Endless ridgelines, remote ranch land and perfect singletrack stretched in every direction.
The riding was technical where it needed to be and wide open where it could be with no one else around.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I could smell the ocean.
By mid-afternoon, after a home-cooked meal of roasted chicken, macaroni salad, fresh tortillas and instant coffee, we headed toward the ocean until, at last, we were riding our bikes on the beach with waves crashing nearby and the Pacific Ocean stretching endlessly in front of us.
Watching our group carving lines through the sand as the sun dropped was one of those moments I will replay forever.
At one point, Jakob said it best, “I’m amazed by the level of our team. How can we all be the same speed?”
Of course Baja had the final word. A hidden bush cracked my radiator late in the day. “Baja always wins,” Ron laughed.
Still, we rolled into Coyote Cal’s just in time for sunset, tired, smiling and already reliving the day. Dinner was an incredible spread of Thai Mexican food and a full-body massage that somehow topped everything before it. Thanks, Ta!
The final morning started with a sunrise view and a quiet, reflective ride north to the border. Another trailside lunch stop along the actual Baja 1000 racecourse was one last reminder of exactly where had been riding. Roasted chicken tacos, beans, rice, plantains and, of course, tortillas and guacamole hit the spot.
We took off again and pulled up to a random gas station outside of Ensenada and parked directly behind racing legend, Ricky Johnson. Because Baja.
By late afternoon, we crossed back into the U.S. with 159 miles on the day and bikes loaded by 4 p.m. Dusty. Satisfied. Old Town San Diego gave us one last place to recap, laugh and replay highlights before heading home.
The riding was incredible. The terrain was unmatched. What made this trip special was the people. The Baja Bound guides. Our team. The shared experience of trusting each other in unfamiliar terrain.
At Rabaconda, we talk a lot about rider-developed solutions and real-world use. Trips like this reinforce why that matters. We ride. We travel. We wrench. We believe the best tools are the ones that support real adventures wherever they take you.
Five legends. One desert. Zero regrets.
“This is the way to live.”
