This is the third part of a 3-part story detailing motorcycle adventures in Baja. Check out part one, covering why you should make this trip here, and part two, covering the bike build here.
The right gear can make or break the whole trip. This part of the series is about what gear you should bring to Baja, but first, let me tell you about my first real overnight motorcycle camping trip. Spoiler alert: it was along the Nile River, which in retrospect might have been a bit ambitious.
I’d just been visiting Southern California, loaded up on gear at the famous Malcolm Smith Motorsports, and walked out with a full kit of gear and no idea how any of it was supposed to fit. I got entry-level moto boots with little real protection.
Then there were the pants, hilariously baggy and, for reasons I still can’t explain, zip-offs. The hard plastic armor I’d purchased was miserable, but the worst was a helmet that turned out to be too small. The hotspots alone tried to end my life slowly over the course of the trip.
My plastic knee and shin guards were so uncomfortable that I ended up cutting the straps clean off and just letting them float under the enormous pants, sliding around with a mind of their own and therefore unlikely to be in the right place when I took a spill and really needed them. I had a duffel bag from The North Face strapped to my rear fender, and I rode out toward the Nile looking like a Mad Max extra who’d raided the clearance rack.
Of course, the problems didn’t stop with what I wore. My tent, for example, had a hole in it. In the U.S., that means you get bug bites. In Africa, it meant I got malaria. This whole trip was a total gong show, but looking back, it was an incredible experience. I could have done without the malaria, though.
I actually kept up with the duffel-strapped-to-the-fender method for years; it’s honestly not bad, but everything else on that trip taught me what I never want to feel again. Gear that doesn’t fit fights you all day, distracting you and tiring you out prematurely.
Essential Gear for Riding Baja
You’re Gonna Crash, and That’s OK
It was day 5 of my trip to Baja this past May, and the whole group was feeling fantastic. We were absolutely ripping north up the coast north of Santa Rosalita to Catavina, and we didn’t see another car or another person the whole way.
At times when the road would swing inland, we’d hit these low points full of champagne dust, and it’s as fine as powdered sugar. When you ride into it, it feels almost like riding you’re riding through water as the sand flows over (and inevitably into) your boots. Once the dust is airborne, it completely blinds anyone nearby, which can be a huge problem.
I was riding on my friend Josh’s back wheel when we dropped into one of these dust traps. I went from having the time of my life to having zero visibility in a heartbeat. I slowed way down, but I still ended up high-siding (aka going over the bike during a crash; it sucks) and going into a full-body roll.
I popped up, thankfully, no worse for wear. If I hadn’t been wearing my full kit, the outcome would probably have been very different. You’re going to crash in Baja, no matter how good a rider you are. The difference between ending up in a brief rest before setting off again and a trip to a Mexican hospital is the gear you’ve chosen to wear to protect yourself.
My Riding Kit
When choosing your riding kit, be brand- and style-agnostic. Buy the helmet that fits you best, not the one that you think looks the coolest or is a few grams lighter. The difference between the right helmet and one that puts pressure on your head in weird places is massive.
Luckily for me, the Fox Racing V3 RS seems to have been made especially for my head. It’s a full carbon shell, making it ridiculously light. It’s equipped with the MIPS (Multi-Directional Impact Protection System), which can make a big difference in low-speed crashes, aka the kind you tend to have in dirt. It’s also ECE 22.06-rated, the standard many racing sanctioning bodies use outside the U.S.
The Cage chin bar sits out a bit more than most off-road helmets, which is fantastic for airflow and for accessing your hydration hose on the move. I pair it with the Fox Vue Inning goggles with the Vivid mirrored lens for the Baja sun, and a neck buff so the back of my neck doesn’t burn.
On my torso, I layer a Fox AOP Tech Tee as a base, Fox Baseframe Pro D3O armor over it, and Mosko’s Workhorse Lite jersey for the hotter temps. The Baseframe finally fixed a problem I have with most chest armor: a front zipper that sticks out awkwardly the whole time you’re riding.
Fox moved the zip to the side, the mesh actually breathes, and the D3O is light enough and flexible enough that I wear it on nearly every ride. The best armor is the armor you actually wear, and if it’s comfy and easy to move in, you’re more likely to put it on.
On my hands, I wear the Fox Pawtector gloves. They’re slightly more burly than your standard dirt bike glove, and they’re still going strong after a full summer of moto and mountain bike use.
On the lower half of my body, I run Mobius X8 knee braces and Leatt knee brace tights beneath Mosko Moto Surveyor pants. The Surveyor is super-durable with enough stretch to stay comfortable all day over knee braces, and I’ve worn the same pair for 3 years running. This is the opposite of the floating-shin-guard disaster: knee braces that stay put with pants designed to be worn over them.
At the feet, I use Fox 360 socks and Fox Motion X Off-Road Boots. I’ve tried lots of other boots, but these are the ones I keep coming back to, despite the fact that they’re more than $500 per pair. I first wore them on a 10,000km ride across Europe and Turkey, and I’ve worn nothing else since: comfortable out of the box, great off-road grip, and waterproof when you need it, super breathable when you don’t.
Baja tends to stack several different climates into one trip, so layering up matters as much as the armor you wear. Expect a 15- to 20-degree difference across the peninsula by region, with it tending to be cool and marine on the Pacific side, but with real desert heat as you push south and toward the Sea of Cortez. Over the base-layer tee, armor, and jersey, I added the Mosko Moto Surveyor soft shell jacket for cold mornings and night rides.
Camping vs. Hotels
On my most recent trip, we prioritized riding hard, eating well, and sleeping comfortably every night, so we stayed in hotels instead of camping. Camping in Baja is great too, and I do it regularly, but the gear changes if that’s the plan. I run my trusty Mosko Moto Reckless 40 bag system to accommodate camping gear instead of the Trail 16 that I use on hotel trips.
I’ve run variations of this Sea to Summit–sourced setup on every moto trip for the last 5 years, making up more than 75 nights of sleeping on the ground: the Ultralight XR Insulated Air Sleeping Pad, a Reactor Lightweight liner, or the 45-degree Spark down sleeping bag, depending on the time of year, and the Telos Evo Bikepack Tent.
The tent’s shorter pole segments are the real trick here, because they pack down small enough to ride inside your luggage instead of being strapped to the outside, which matters whether you’re on a bicycle or a motorcycle.
Staying Connected
Comms are non-negotiable for my riding groups. The Cardo Packtalk Edge is what makes close, fast group riding possible. We rotate the point rider, who calls out fences, washouts, and tight turns. We ride a lot of side-by-side, or one rider tucked on another’s back wheel to stay out of the dust, and none of that is safe without being able to talk.
For the true emergencies, the Garmin inReach Mini 3 Plus is the one critical piece I’d never leave behind. Having satellite messaging with photo and voice-memo support is a huge safety net. It’s how we told our families we were fine the night we ran out of fuel and slept in a wash. We were out of gas but never out of contact.
Not Your Average First-Aid Kit
If something does happen, and let’s be honest, something minor usually does, we bring a pretty beefy first-aid kit. We tend to carry supplies for the worst-case scenario, not just the odd scraped knuckle or sunburn.
Our trauma kit includes a SAM splint, a tourniquet, QuikClot, major wound dressing and tape, medical shears, essential meds like Benadryl, and heavy-duty prescription painkillers to stabilize someone if it truly goes sideways, plus a more normal first-aid kit for everything smaller.
It also helps that we ride with a trained EMT, because all the first-aid supplies in the world are useless if you don’t know how to use them properly. An improperly applied tourniquet, for example, can be dangerous, which sort of defeats the purpose.
What’s in My Luggage
When I pack my bags, I put everything in based on how often I need to reach it. The Mosko Moto Gnome tank bag holds what I want quick access to throughout the day: a multitool, my Nocs Provisions Zero Tube binoculars, Gold Bond, which is essential for riding 8-plus-hour days in hot weather, sunglasses, sunscreen, earplugs, a headlamp, and a charging cord.
The Nocs are small enough not to take up much room, and I use them often to spot where a road actually goes, as well as to identify birds. (Insert jokes about middle-aged men getting into birdwatching here.)
Next comes what I want on my person. I need to access it often, but not as often as the stuff in the tank bag. For this purpose, I ran the Mosko Moto Wildcat 12 Backpack, and while it seemed overbuilt at first, I ended up falling in love with it. It has a 3L hydration bladder, and I run the chest rig, which swaps out the usual sternum strap for an integrated zip kangaroo pouch.
It keeps the pack locked down and puts what I need most within reach: phone and inReach, each in dedicated Velcro pockets, and wallet, cash, goggle sock, and snacks in the zip pouch. I slide my e-reader in near the bladder; it’s waterproof in case the bladder ever breaks, and after years of trying alternatives, that’s the safest spot I’ve found for it.
The main body and the expandable beaver tail swallow more snacks or layers as needed; my passport tucks away in the rear zip, and when I’m off the bike, my goggles go in their dedicated pocket. A spare pair of Fox Racing Stealth Bomber gloves rides in there, too. They’re a smidge burlier for riding on tarmac but still great on dirt.
The rear luggage holds everything else that I hopefully won’t need until I stop for the night: shoes, spare and off-bike clothes, a second set of goggles with clear lenses in case we get caught out at night, toiletries, and everything I need to charge all my electronics at night.
For a 6-day trip, I keep the clothes pretty minimal: one T-shirt, one extra base layer tee, an extra pair of riding socks, one pair of off-the-bike socks, three pairs of underwear, a bathing suit, and running shoes instead of flip-flops. If you’re ever stranded somewhere and need to hike out, the weight and space penalty of real shoes is worth it.
Once I’m off the bike, I live in 686 Anywhere Cargo Pants, my go-to adventure pants. They have plenty of pockets and they pack down small while not weighing very much. I also bring a Patagonia R1 fleece if I get chilly at night or while packing up in the morning.
We split the shared gear across the group. One person carries the tools, another the first aid, another a cable lock, and another a tow strap and spares. That way, no one person is overburdened.
After the Ride
At night, chores come first so we’re set up for success. Wash your base layers in the shower so your clothes can dry by morning. The bonus is you feel fresh and ready to wrench on bikes or make whatever other repairs the day earned.
Inevitably, someone’s getting a food and drink order in while we rotate through the fixes, because repairs always go better with a cold beer in hand. Josh always brings his small Bose Bluetooth speaker, which helps morale and productivity, too.
Documenting the Trip
Looking back on a trip is always more fun when you’ve got real photographers riding with you, and this one came with two. Josh grew up looking at old family photos from Baja, the same effortless nostalgia every time, and that old-time feel is exactly what the Fujifilm X100VI captures so well. It proved to be the camera pick for both Josh and Marlin.
Marlin put it in mechanic’s terms: It’s the 8mm socket of cameras, the one that covers most of the bolts and the one you never forget to pack. Having just the single fixed lens means that your camera kit is small enough to live in a waist pack and quick enough to catch the in-between moments: filling up on gas on the side of the road, laughing over a couple of Tecates at the tienda.
I used to always tease him that I’d see his photos years after a trip. Not this time. Fuji’s famous film simulations made the post-trip edit slog almost nonexistent, and he sent us images right off the camera.
Three Rules From Terry
There’s a photo hanging in El Palomar, the old cantina near Santo Tomas. It’s a faded shot of my buddy’s dad, Terry, and his crew from an early trip down the peninsula. They’re kitted out in the most epic mid-’90s moto gear you’ve ever seen, with everyone grinning, dusty, and immortal.
Terry was riding Baja before I was born, and three of his rules found their way to me on my first trip down here, ones I’ve never dropped: Write your mileage in a notebook at every stop, never pass up a chance for gas, and always carry a can of sardines in case you get hungry.
These days, we are tracking mileage on our phones and watches, and it’s Red Bull and Snickers instead of sardines if we need a quick boost. But I never pass up a chance to fuel up the bikes, no matter what.
That photo is 30 years old now, and gear has come a long way since then. Everything is lighter, more durable, more comfortable, and more dialed for the demands of Baja. The armor flexes and breathes, the boots don’t roast your feet, and the riding pants stretch and last for years. Most importantly, you no longer have to choose between protection and comfort. The best gear is the gear you forget you’re wearing, right up until the day it saves you.
