The cast of characters always
stays the same, but the faces change. With names like Stinky, Brown
Eyes, Stud Muffin, Wild Bill and the Chick Magnet, the slow pace at
Pete's Camp will surely come to life in this mystical place on the
Sea of Cortez. This sleepy beach village of Pete's Camp grows to a
small city of recreational vehicles, tents, blaring music, off-road
cars, motorcycles and quads. Situated 8 miles north of San Felipe,
Baja Sur, California, Pete's Camp has long been a favorite of many
including the crew from Off-Road.com. With the likes of Class 8
racer Eric Lane, the legendary Baja veteran MikieBaja and many
others, the annual Poker Run at Pete's Camp has arrived.
The name Gloria rings a few bells, guys look away
and laugh, and thank god Gloria is still stateside. The days are
warm and the breeze slight. Who would know other than those who
venture to travel the Baja Peninsula. Pete's Camp in the fall, the
season is here, the tone of the exhaust and the screams of terror.
It's Thursday afternoon, seated at the bar at Pete's camp, we watch
as the steady stream of players roll into the seaside resort.
They search out the
camp paymaster, Old Paul. Digging into their wallets they pull out
dollars and pesos to pay for a space on the beach. The beach at
Pete's Camp is soft and deep, the days are filled with watching
people dig out their 4-wheel toys from the beach. The other task at
hand are the four cuties sitting at the bar. Barbie-Debra, the hot
Brunette-Tahnee, Slick Vicky, aka, Mother Superior and finally
Princess Julia…this was a task for only the Chick Magnet. He
slid up to Barbie Girl, her pretty blue eyes and soft tan skin,
she's the princess. Stud Muffin brings her attention to the group,
and so the 4-day weekend begins… Quads, motorcycles,
sandrails, Baja bugs and trucks, they run the gamut of vehicles,
high performance, stock, and everything in between. The bar fills
quickly, road soda's down the hatch, shot's of Cazadores
Tequila-the legendary Amo Pescar ordering from the
bartender-Mario… the fences come down and we are all long
lost friends. The sun sets and the
tequila flows, here we go. Life at Pete's Camp has transformed into
roaring fun. The outside bar is overflowing with patrons,
high-five's around the table and the sounds of Jimmy Buffet rocking
the ocean breeze. Life almost gets no better. Thursdays at Pete's
is this way, after arriving from stateside, racers relax, the pit
monkeys flex their muscles and the girls prance. Up at first light,
the camp is silent. The sunrise brief but beautiful. Silence is
broken with the first sounds of an air-cooled engine. Moments later
another, and then another, as if the alarm had sounded in the Brady
Bunch house. People stir and Friday's pre-race day has begun. By
9:00 a.m., a long line has formed outside the office to Pete's.
Rafael, the owner of Pete's, directs his race team to register the
racers. Patiently, guys and gals wait there turn. While cruising
through the busy metropolis talking to racers, I see a large group
seated at a table just outside the restaurant. The table filled
with plates of chorizo and eggs, machaca and huevos rancheros. A
few hardcore racers were already enjoying road sodas and the Baja
veteranos drinking fresh coffee from the kitchen.
The conversation was of a detour in the Poker Run
course. Allegedly, the rumor was the course was not running that 2
or 3 miles of power line road whoops. Boy, they later discovered
how wrong they were. Guys were laughing about last year's mess in
that section. Others were discussing the big trend in changing
motors from air-cooled to turbo-charged water-cooled. The steady
line of quads and off-road cars continued to drive by slowly as if
cruising Sunset Blvd. on Friday nights. The oooo's and aaaah's were
continuous.
Interestingly, in the beginning of the line, the
first 15 racers were counting off to themselves. Each one hoping
not to be #13. As the #13 spot came available, a stranger arrived
and claimed the number, "I AM NUMBER 13, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME."
Everyone moved away from him as if he was the "Black Widow." He
smiled and waited with the rest. Friday was filled with over a
hundred vehicles running the beach, other's coming back from the
high desert and still others arriving back from such locations
further south of San Felipe. One group headed to Percebu. With a
group of 25 quads, motorcycles and off-road vehicles, they were
like a roving band of mosquitoes. Led by a long-time Baja traveler
and property owner, Roger Barreto, the group successfully arrived
to Percebu. While at the Percebu Cantina, racers adjusted their
equipment and re-fueled. Inside the cantina, the group sat and
relaxed talking about Baja's mystique and continued refreshing
themselves with ice-cold road sodas. With the tide out and the
hard-packed sand exposed, the group drove up the beach heading for
the famous Miramar Bar. After a few short stops
to right quads, dust off the sand from some backs and build up
confidence again, they headed down the beach at a slower speed.
Outside the Miramar Bar in San Felipe, the off-road vehicles block
the sidewalk. A few tourists walk through and hear the roars of the
crowd. The Miramar Bar is packed. One patron, a doctor from
Turlock, California, is in the midst of performing a medical
examination on one rider from the Percebu group. The rider had
burned peeling skin exposed on his left thigh, and complaining of a
possible broken ankle, Doc goes through a routine. He looks up and
tells the rider that he'll be okay but a bit sore. Doc charges
nothing for the visit. Vintage Baja. The day ends at Pete's Camp.
The outside bar is packed with the huge crowd. Girls wearing skimpy
outfits and the guys in shorts and sandals. Typical Baja. The music
booms and more friends arrive, the night pounds on. The empties
stacking up high, but Mario, the bartender, always with a smile. He
yells and nods his head, "What do you want?" Bajamikie is standing
at the bar ordering 10 beers for his crew. Life is good at Pete's
Camp. Yeah Baby!!!!!!!!
Late into the
night, the music rocks, the young people carry on and others share
quiet time along the sand. By 2:30 a.m. the music dies off and
voices quiet. Silence for a few hours is the pattern.
Saturday morning the sunrise is bright orange
coming over the horizon. The water is flat and again the sound of
the motor's are the morning's alarm. Count down to the start of the
Poker Run begins. By 9am, with only an hour to go, the bustle of
Pete's Camp is roaring. Racers scrambling for those misplaced
goggles, adjustments on the off-road cars, and quad racers putting
on body armor. The buzz at the start/finish line was just shy of a
real SCORE race. And remember, this was not a race! By 10am, the
vehicles are lined up by categories and the first racers are off.
With the sound of two-stroke engines and the smell of 2-cycle oil,
the official Pete's Camp Poker Run has started. With a whopping 264
entries, the start/finish area is like the parking lot at the
Beverly Center during the Christmas season. Rafael says, "This is
the most we've ever had, a new record, and we hope to surpass this
record next year." Raffie Jr. stands at the start/finish line
directing the racers. Working together Raffie Jr. and Rafael are a
dynamic team, reaching all aspects of the off-roading community. As
the quad racers approach the start/finish line, you see they mean
business. With full faced helmets, chest protectors, steel toes
boots and complete race clothing they blast off from the starting
line to hit the first of two man-made jumps. While taking off in
pairs, they continue to roll out quad racers. Two by two and then,
a girly racer. Dressed in only a teeny-weeny bikini top, white
tight shorts and tennies, but wearing her racer approved helmet,
she is a true Baja up-and-comer. At 24 years old, Kristin, has
raged the desert-racing scene since she was two years old. Huddled
in between hordes of male Gladiator dressed racers, was the Desert
Racing Chick. She took off on her new Banshee racing over the jumps
and by the first straight away she was pulling away from her male
competition. Now picture this with
all the studly Gladiator racers out there in the Baja desert and
then a bikini-clad Kristin, and we're talking teeny, tiny,
bikini-Kristin, blasting through the whoops unscathed. At each
checkpoint she breezes through, after opening up the carbs on the
Banshee between water stops. She passes on the right, off the road,
through the thorny bushes and riding full-out to the next stop,
completely unscathed. Is she super woman?
While at the finish, racers come across the line. Passing a
couple slow pokes down the last straight away, Kristin blasts the
Banshee through the last couple turns pushing Baja dirt, flying off
the back of those tires, and finally across. A closer check of the
unprotected body reveals not a scratch. A motorcycle gladiator
rides up to Kristin, Big Rob of Fountain Valley, California. He's
covered in dirt, scratches and he's a mess. He describes one of
several crashes he endured during the Poker Run. Running full-out
on his new Yamaha dirt bike, Rob removes his helmet and dried blood
is seen along his mouth. Yep it appears this was another excellent
run at Pete's Camp. Big Rob grabs a road soda and tells his story
to those who will listen.
The Pete's Camp Poker Run draws them all. The boyz
from Oceanside's B&R Buggies were there with their new 4-seat
pre-runner, an $80,000 dollar Suburban and a Class 8 Ford Truck,
which couldn't make it off the start line due to a broken drive
shaft. But they come in droves to play at Pete's Camp, commonly
known as "El Pariso." Across the finish line comes Wild Bill
navigating for the overall winner, LN. She drove their two-wheeled
drive Jeep Cherokee to victory with a hand of…(I don't know
what she had, Fidel). All smiles, Wild Bill bragged of his woman
and her driving skills. If anyone can judge driving skills, it's
Wild Bill of the BF Goodrich Racing Team. He's been part of their
team for many years and is currently responsible for BFG's Race
Team Communications.
Saturday night at
Pete's Camp rivals any club in town. The music rocks, everyone
dancing and the party continues, life at the annual Pete's Camp
Poker Run.
By Sunday morning, those
recreational vehicles are beginning to pull out and the slow pace
at El Pariso starts to take over. Trucks and trailers, quad and
motorcycles, the crowd lessens and soon camp is quiet and nearly
empty. The road stateside is quiet as the long caravan's of Pete's
Camp racers make their way home. Another successful year at the
Pete's Camp Poker Run, with fun-filled days of excitement, Baja
friends and racing in the Baja Desert. Don't ponder your chance to
be part of this event, when the time comes, step up and enjoy your
adventure.
Till next year-Rock on at Pete's
Camp!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Untitled Document
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