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SOLERA DIAMOND VALLEY | OCTOBER 2019 7 By Sherrie Chaparro, Resident What were you doing 50 years ago this month? Although you probably don't remember, resident Ron Jackson does. He was embarking on a 34-hour nonstop minibike ride across Baja California. No one had attempted it before, no one has done it since. Ron owned Santa Ana Honda, a Honda motorcycle dealership in Orange County, California. In early 1969, Honda came out with the Trail 70, a minibike which stood 2½ feet tall and got tremendous gas mileage. One evening, while playing cards with neighbor Dick Reeves, Ron started kicking around the idea of a minibike trip across Baja. After reading everything they could find about the subject and talking to numerous experts, they were convinced a nonstop 400- mile trek across sand, rock and dust, through mountains and dry lake beds was possible. This in spite of all the experts, including Honda, who said the trip couldn't be done on a minibike. Ron chartered a private plane to transport the men and their minibikes from Orange County to the tiny fishing village of Bahia de Los Angeles on the southwestern shore of Baja. Ron felt a sinking in his stomach as the pilot dropped them off and flew away, leaving the two men alone on the dirt runway at the edge of the village, with nothing but desert, mountains, rocks and sand between them and their destination. Ron and Dick were too excited to sleep so that night, around 2:40 am, they started off northwest into the foothills. They brought food, water, tools and equipment in case of breakdowns and four extra gallons of gas, which were strapped onto aftermarket luggage racks. Because the road was so rough, the luggage racks collapsed not 20 miles into their trip and one of the gas cans split. Not only did they lose gas and time, they were forced to load the remaining gas cans onto the back of the small minibike seat, which did not improve comfort. As they traveled through the night, they heard wild burros braying and the occasional hair-raising screams of bobcats. At noon the next day, they reached the dry lake bed of Lake Chapala. They were told the lake bed was peppered with sinkholes covered by deep powdery fine dust, making it doubtful the small bikes could maneuver through the 25 miles of dust. While crossing the lake bed, the bike would drop off under the rider and literally disappear into the dust. They endured this hazard for what seemed like hours before conditions "improved," turning from sand to dust, then to loose rock, and riding through hills, gullies, ruts and ravines, all under the blazing desert sun. Darkness fell and temperatures cooled as they came closer to the Pacific Ocean. By now they had been riding for 20 hours. Their painful hands gripped the handlebars, helmets felt heavy and confining and each body part ached. They reached the small town of El Rosario, the halfway point, around 11:30 pm, where they had planned to call their families, but no one had told them that the town generator was turned off at 10 pm and there was no telephone service. Instead, they were welcomed by growling, snapping dogs and in the confusion and haste to get away, missed a turn and rode an hour in the wrong direction directly to the Pacific Ocean. They backtracked and at 1:30 am Ron found the dirt road north to Ensenada. Over the next 80 miles, they ran into numerous chuckholes. Ron and Dick were dog-tired, their hands and forearms unable to respond quickly enough to avoid the holes. At about 5:15 am, still dark, they both fell exhausted to the ground and reached their darkest hour. Despite their initial confidence, it appeared the desert had won. But after riding another 30 minutes, just as the sun was coming up, they saw a single ribbon of asphalt rising out of the desert like the road to heaven. This provided the shot of adrenaline both needed, and they continued by paved road to Ensenada, arriving about 34 hours after they had set off. Ron and Dick received no awards or trophies for completing the trek and no crowds besides friends and family waited in Ensenada to greet them. They were filthy dirty, exhausted and not a muscle or joint was without pain. But can't you just imagine their triumphant grins as they rode into town? They said it couldn't be done, indeed! Baja Minibike Marathon: They Said It Couldn't Be Done Trail to Ensenada goes through the mountains Honda Mini Bikes The Trail Ron & Sharon Jackson Arrival in Ensenada Air Strip at Bahia de Los Angeles (L-R) Dick Reeves, Ron's father and Ron Jackson

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