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motoged
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Location: Kamloops, BC
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Guerrero Negro Motel Recommendations
What motels would you recommend for Guerrero Negro? I won't be on this trip but my Baja-experienced friends will be riding dirt-bikes through there in
late January or a bit later and want to overnight in a place that will offer some degree of overnight security (bikes will likely be locked together)
and has a good nearby restaurant.
These guys (about 8 of them) have lots of Baja riding experience but have never overnighted in GN. They are the kind of guys that DO NOT expect or
want to take their bikes into their room, as they recognize how that is disrespectful.
I have scoured the search function here and have some ideas, but would appreciate current opinions.
Thanks for any suggestions.
Don't believe everything you think....
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bill erhardt
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The Cowboy Motel, on the left as you enter GN off Mex. 1, has security and enclosed parking. I stayed there when I brought a new boat down last year.
Attached is a photo of my truck/trailer/boat tucked in for the night at the Cowboy.
Internet access is also available, and I'm sure your bikes would be fine overnight.
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Hooker33
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Cowboy motel
I stayed at the Cowboy on Oct. 19th, very clean rooms, secure parking for my truck and boat. Restaurant in front, not great but the chicken was
tasty. Several bikers arrived in the evening and stayed the night also. Easy off and on Hwy #1.
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shari
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Mood: there is no reality except the one contained within us "Herman Hesse"
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yup...Cowboy has my vote...the night watchman there is an excop...he was comandante here a few years back...they chain the entrance at night too and
they can park outside their room...I can make the reservation if ya want Ged...why dont they take a quick trip out to the lagoon to see whales
too...Chavelo, the Cowboy owner can take em in his van too....plus their taco restaurant is awesome...best tacos in town IMHO and there is a
restaurant across the street with 30 peso breakfasts and open at 7.
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motoged
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I posted this for my friends to track....thanks for the comments so far and your offer Shari, but these boys are on their own 
I will certainly encourage them to pass through BA, but I can't talk any sense into these guys
Don't believe everything you think....
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Bajahowodd
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A couple o observations.
Just stayed at Cowboy last week. Chavelo is building additional rooms on a second story. Assuming your friends will be leaving early, there should be
no problem. The workers can be noisy, and they shut off the hot water when they start.
The Asadero Cowboy restaurant serves simple food. They recently installed a large stove with chimneys that juts out the back of the building, as he is
now serving pollo asado and has delivery.
I assume the restaurant Shari mentioned as being across the street was the Nautilus? Either way, they were not open last week when we stoped there
around 9:30. Got our breakfast at Las Cazuelas.
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mtgoat666
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| Quote: | Originally posted by motoged
What motels would you recommend for Guerrero Negro? |
mallarimos is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, is great place, and best place in town. has best food too!
however, you can find cheaper, but the lower prices are indicative...
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shari
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Mood: there is no reality except the one contained within us "Herman Hesse"
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No, I was talking about Puerto Viejo restaurant across from cowboy to the right a tad...whale watching groups often eat there as they are open early.
and it's a real nice restaurant.
Chavelo is building single rooms which will be nice for those who need only one bed.
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Cypress
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How many choices are there, three or four? You're just passing thru. No big deal. This question is been tossed around every week or so? No bigee! If you don't like your options, just keep on driving.
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dizzyspots
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we stayed at Los Caracoles...clean, decent price
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BajaBlanca
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we love malarrimo. best filet mignon ever. great gift store. nice clean rooms.
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DianaT
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For breakfast, Malarrimo is good and it is quite fast if one is in a hurry. And coffee is quite good.
We have eaten a number of times at the Puerto Viejo and it is good, but quite slow especially if there are other customers---but it is a good choice
if one is not in a hurry.
Don Gus---food quite good, a bit pricey---have not stayed there.
If on a budget, and because they accept dogs with no hesitation, we like the Las Ballenas in the center of town on a side street. Nice family and
they live on the property. Clean, but old.
Lots of options
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tripledigitken
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Another vote for Malarrimo, both for food and lodging.
I like to think of it as the Hyatt of Guerrero Negro.
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Pompano
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GN.
If Trixie's light is not on, your best bet for gourmet food, 5-star rooms, low price, secure parking, ambiance, having dirty martini c-cktails with
amigos y amigas, and romance ...
....is to keep driving south....
....if not, then stay at Malarimmos. Like Cowboys, it's a pretty nice place for the money.
P.S. Reward for the Mulege treaders I left there over 35 years ago.
[Edited on 10-21-2011 by Pompano]
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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motoged
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Pomp,
Trixie ???? Now you have my interest....You aren't talking about the old haunt east of town from the old days are you???
Don't believe everything you think....
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Pompano
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I have hard...er...heard stories, but I have no clear recollection of whatever it is you are referring to..
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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David K
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| Quote: | Originally posted by motoged
Pomp,
Trixie ???? Now you have my interest....You aren't talking about the old haunt east of town from the old days are you???
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The history of the place name 'La Espinita' is a tad colorful...
Originally located a few miles north of Guerrero Negro...
(from 1962 Lower California Guidebook):
"La Espina (La Espinita), a solitary group of shacks serving as a saloon for salt works employees."
Mike Humfreville had a good story about another brothel that served Guerrero Negro, a few miles east of town!
FROM FRED METCALF's site where all of Mike Humfreville's stories can be found:
http://math.ucr.edu/ftm/bajaPages/Correspondents/BajaWithMik...
hoar Town ( Posted February 12, 2003 )
Nothing very extraordinary happened during our week-long and accidental stay at Black Warrior in 1974. Our Land Cruiser, La Tortuga, was busted and in
repair. Without a vehicle we had lots of time to kill, walking around town and sitting in small restaurants talking or reading over coffee. I had
always kept a log and that filled my time. Mary Ann read romance novels. I was jealous.
One day, out of boredom, I decided it would be nice to have a bottle of red wine. I had no idea where to find one or even if there was a liquor store
in the town. I left Mary Ann in our room, reading her book, and walked down the side streets to the main thoroughfare into and out of the town, a wide
dirt road. In the center of town was a single, dust covered taxi. I asked the driver if he knew of a store that sold wine and liquor. He certainly did
and immediately gestured for me to get into the cab. I told him I was fine to walk. He said it was too far to walk. He was animated and quick and
insistent that I sit in his cab and be escorted to this store. Seeing no simple alternative, I climbed into the front passenger seat and we took off,
east.
We passed through the salt company part of town and continued through the eastern part and we drove through the dump and straight out of town, under
my constant questioning and his strong assurances that he knew exactly what I needed. We drove to the junction of the transpeninsular highway and,
where the road forked for the northern and southern routes, we went straight, right up the middle.
We intersected the transpeninsular highway at 90 degrees and still we continued east into the desert. We drove several kilometers into an apparent
nothingness. I would have been concerned, but my host was so carefree and casual. After a number of kilometers from the highway I could see a cluster
of buildings in the distance. We entered the odd assemblage of fifteen or twenty one- and two-story structures spread across both sides of the road.
There were men and women crossing the dusty street and coming from and going into the buildings. Many of the buildings had large signs advertising the
availability of beer, music and dancing.
The driver stopped in front of one of these and jumped out and opened my door and with a bow and outstretched arm ushered me inside a dingy cantina.
I'm thinking maybe they sell wines and liquors to go also. No such luck.
We entered a dark, large and windowless room with a bar and number of tables, a scattering of chairs. A number of men and two women stood at the bar,
drinks scattered around. More men and women were sitting around the tables, some playing cards and dice. Rowdy recorded Mexican Mariachi music
radiated from a dusty, battered record player in a corner of the room. Several couples were dancing. Many of the men were drunk. A sign on the wall
told me that I could buy a dance for a peso, about a dime. I could judge from the scene that I could buy more than a dance for more than a peso. A
scene out of the early American west, dark and dank, smoky, smelly, sleazy. I realized then that this actually was the early American west. It was
just on another side of a border.
The place was a grimy dive and I was stuck with my friendly driver whose feelings I didn't want to hurt. But I had mixed emotions with the sorry sight
of this roomful of dusty cowboys and oily overweight prostitutes. We went to the bar and I ordered two beers, one for my driver and one for me. I told
him that my mediocre Spanish had perhaps conveyed the wrong message and that I really did just want a bottle of wine. I said that we should enjoy our
beer and get back to town because people would be worried about me.
We watched the women, loudly mouthed and dressed, sidling with their men around the dance floor, their bodies close and suggestive and rocking with
the music. I assumed that the second floors of the buildings were bedrooms. I was happy that this town existed for these people. But I had been ready
to leave before we entered.
We finished our beers and I convinced a red-eyed semi-conscious fellow beside us that I really couldn't, at the moment, enjoy the services they had to
offer, whatever they were and that I didn't know how to dance, thank you. We left, got back into the car and returned to Black Warrior, with my
apologies to the driver.
I looked at our various maps of Baja occasionally over the many years since my experience with the friendly drunks and hoars and have not found this
town identified. Until today. As I finished reviewing this before posting I opened my Baja Almanac and turned to N-29. There I spot it. It's just the
right distance from Guerrero Negro, out in the forlorn desert. And it does have a name, after all. It's Las Bombas. The Pumps. How appropriate.
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rts551
Elite Nomad
    
Posts: 6700
Registered: 9-5-2003
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For those that care to, you can still visit the buildings East of town. Better than getting and passing the info from a book. Problem is today,
the (alas) buildings are empty and far less colorful than in days of old. Edit: The place is called Las Bombas. Sorry I am not giving out GPS
coordinates.
| Quote: | Originally posted by David K
| Quote: | Originally posted by motoged
Pomp,
Trixie ???? Now you have my interest....You aren't talking about the old haunt east of town from the old days are you???
|
The history of the place name 'La Espinita' is a tad colorful...
Originally located a few miles north of Guerrero Negro...
(from 1962 Lower California Guidebook):
"La Espina (La Espinita), a solitary group of shacks serving as a saloon for salt works employees."
Mike Humfreville had a good story about another brothel that served Guerrero Negro, a few miles east of town!
FROM FRED METCALF's site where all of Mike Humfreville's stories can be found:
http://math.ucr.edu/ftm/bajaPages/Correspondents/BajaWithMik...
hoar Town ( Posted February 12, 2003 )
Nothing very extraordinary happened during our week-long and accidental stay at Black Warrior in 1974. Our Land Cruiser, La Tortuga, was busted and in
repair. Without a vehicle we had lots of time to kill, walking around town and sitting in small restaurants talking or reading over coffee. I had
always kept a log and that filled my time. Mary Ann read romance novels. I was jealous.
One day, out of boredom, I decided it would be nice to have a bottle of red wine. I had no idea where to find one or even if there was a liquor store
in the town. I left Mary Ann in our room, reading her book, and walked down the side streets to the main thoroughfare into and out of the town, a wide
dirt road. In the center of town was a single, dust covered taxi. I asked the driver if he knew of a store that sold wine and liquor. He certainly did
and immediately gestured for me to get into the cab. I told him I was fine to walk. He said it was too far to walk. He was animated and quick and
insistent that I sit in his cab and be escorted to this store. Seeing no simple alternative, I climbed into the front passenger seat and we took off,
east.
We passed through the salt company part of town and continued through the eastern part and we drove through the dump and straight out of town, under
my constant questioning and his strong assurances that he knew exactly what I needed. We drove to the junction of the transpeninsular highway and,
where the road forked for the northern and southern routes, we went straight, right up the middle.
We intersected the transpeninsular highway at 90 degrees and still we continued east into the desert. We drove several kilometers into an apparent
nothingness. I would have been concerned, but my host was so carefree and casual. After a number of kilometers from the highway I could see a cluster
of buildings in the distance. We entered the odd assemblage of fifteen or twenty one- and two-story structures spread across both sides of the road.
There were men and women crossing the dusty street and coming from and going into the buildings. Many of the buildings had large signs advertising the
availability of beer, music and dancing.
The driver stopped in front of one of these and jumped out and opened my door and with a bow and outstretched arm ushered me inside a dingy cantina.
I'm thinking maybe they sell wines and liquors to go also. No such luck.
We entered a dark, large and windowless room with a bar and number of tables, a scattering of chairs. A number of men and two women stood at the bar,
drinks scattered around. More men and women were sitting around the tables, some playing cards and dice. Rowdy recorded Mexican Mariachi music
radiated from a dusty, battered record player in a corner of the room. Several couples were dancing. Many of the men were drunk. A sign on the wall
told me that I could buy a dance for a peso, about a dime. I could judge from the scene that I could buy more than a dance for more than a peso. A
scene out of the early American west, dark and dank, smoky, smelly, sleazy. I realized then that this actually was the early American west. It was
just on another side of a border.
The place was a grimy dive and I was stuck with my friendly driver whose feelings I didn't want to hurt. But I had mixed emotions with the sorry sight
of this roomful of dusty cowboys and oily overweight prostitutes. We went to the bar and I ordered two beers, one for my driver and one for me. I told
him that my mediocre Spanish had perhaps conveyed the wrong message and that I really did just want a bottle of wine. I said that we should enjoy our
beer and get back to town because people would be worried about me.
We watched the women, loudly mouthed and dressed, sidling with their men around the dance floor, their bodies close and suggestive and rocking with
the music. I assumed that the second floors of the buildings were bedrooms. I was happy that this town existed for these people. But I had been ready
to leave before we entered.
We finished our beers and I convinced a red-eyed semi-conscious fellow beside us that I really couldn't, at the moment, enjoy the services they had to
offer, whatever they were and that I didn't know how to dance, thank you. We left, got back into the car and returned to Black Warrior, with my
apologies to the driver.
I looked at our various maps of Baja occasionally over the many years since my experience with the friendly drunks and hoars and have not found this
town identified. Until today. As I finished reviewing this before posting I opened my Baja Almanac and turned to N-29. There I spot it. It's just the
right distance from Guerrero Negro, out in the forlorn desert. And it does have a name, after all. It's Las Bombas. The Pumps. How appropriate.
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[Edited on 10-21-2011 by rts551]
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dtbushpilot
Ultra Nomad
   
Posts: 3296
Registered: 1-11-2007
Location: Buena Vista BCS
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I've always stayed at Malarimmo's in the past but have stayed at Cowboys the last 4 or 5 times. I like it better, it's newer, has a secure parking lot
and they are pet friendly. The people at Malarimmo's don't seem as friendly as in the past, the resturant is still pretty good but again, as the
people and rooms, not as good as in the past.
Cowboys gets my vote, the taco joint across the street is the BOMB and if you want a nice "sit down" meal Malarimmo's is a short walk down the
street......dt
"Life is tough".....It's even tougher if you're stupid.....
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motoged
Elite Nomad
    
Posts: 6481
Registered: 7-31-2006
Location: Kamloops, BC
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DTBushpilot having a "nice sit-down"

Thanks for the recommendation for the "excellent ubication".
Don't believe everything you think....
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