Guatemala

From San Ignacio (Belize) I crossed the border into Guatemala and arrived at the Yaxha National Park. I had no expectation except to have a camp spot and I am glad to say my expectations were greatly exceeded. I was quite impressed by the Mayan ruins and the beauty of the lake and surrounding jungle. I got a great camp spot on the lake front that included cold showers and a fire pit nearby. Again, I saw a lot of wildlife and birds including Toucans, LBJ’s (my best birder humor), Howler and Spider monkeys, pacas, coatamundies???, and a small fox to name a few of the critters I can identify.  I stayed as long as my groceries and water lasted and then continued on to Tikal a couple of days later.

In my opinion, Tikal is the most impressive ruins between Mexico and Copan in Honduras. The site is huge, the climbs are scary, the views are amazing, the jungle is alive, the atmosphere was mysterious and the camping was adequate (the shower was filthy). The only change I could recall from my previous trip here years ago is the addition of wooden stairs/ladders climbing the larger temples. Some climbs are not for the faint of heart. I defiantly had the heeby jeebys on temple 5. I stayed in Tikal long enough to explore the ruins, breath the air, search for wildlife, damn near break my neck, and to lose my newly prescribed, overpriced eye glasses (that’s 2 days).

After Tikal I spent a half day in Flores unsuccessfully trying to get gas for cooking. Finally concerned that I may end up on a back road somewhere at night I left for the lake near Sayaxche without propane. When I got there it didn’t feel right. The spot I found at the lake was just a dead end road with no designated place to park except, perhaps in a farmer’s field. The town I drove through on the way to the lake seemed off too. On the way in I saw a young albino girl sweeping the veranda of their shack. On the way out I swear I saw a scene out of the movie ‘Deliverance’… An older man was rocking his chair on the same veranda where I saw the girl earlier.  He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and he was looking at me as if to say ‘What the #$%&*@%*& are you looking at?’ Leaving the yard and now walking in the middle of the road were 3 children. The same young albino girl was holding the hand of an older girl who appeared to have downs syndrome. The third child was a boy with obvious mental and physical defects. They were not inclined to move from the middle of the road and the boy menacingly hobbled to the window to beg. He had a very angry feel about him. I gave him a couple of coins and left town. I feel a little guilty/judgmental about my conclusion but regardless I’ll just say this… ‘incest is not best!’

After this I headed further south down the road to Aguateca. After driving 20 minutes off the main road to find this place I was starting to get concerned that I was going to repeat the events from earlier in the day. I finally pulled into a small store selling corn and sodas to ask for directions. I got lucky and a lady there was previously from the USA and could speak really good English. I had arrived at the right location but they informed me that I couldn’t go into the park with my car. There was a school out front and I asked if it would be ok to park there for the night. They insisted that I park at the store instead. I had to put on a show and set up the van and the kitchen so my hosts (and half the town) could see what I was up to. They were impressed by the kitchen and the bed but really impressed by the awning and my meat thermometer. They had a stack of wood and I asked if I could buy some because I was out of propane. They responded by letting me cook in their kitchen. I ate at their table and promptly started a fight between the cat and the dog by feeding them under the table. It was vicious and I was quite embarrassed. They responded by kicking the dog. It wasn’t long before we had attracted all of the neighbors who were curious about the gringo and his carro casa (motorhome). The porch was filled with no less than 30 people young and old. All the boys checked out the van and my bicycle and all the young girls seemed to giggle and blush when I smiled at them. Later, the TV was turned on and we all watched some farfetched American hero movie in Spanish. I had been carrying a pack of jiffy popcorn since it was given to me by a church group last September in California, and this popcorn finally found its destiny in the very dirty hands of some young Guatemalan kids. After the movie I could hear the voices of people singing and a guitar playing. I stepped out into the dark night to listen when a young boy noticed my actions and asked if I want to see the music. We went to the next house down the hill and slipped into the back of the congregation. Church was being held with a group of about 20 followers. I was told that church was held every night until midnight… it was 10:00. I prayed for a way out but God choose to ignore me this time. I listened to the music and said a prayer when people bowed to do so. Suddenly I was starting to pick up words I understood… Canadiense, loco, soletario, viaje, carro, Sur America…. He turned to me and asked me if I knew Jesus… I responded with ‘Jesus es mi amigo.’ (Obviously somebody important is my friend or I would not have made it out of the last town…) He asked me a few questions about my trip and I tried to respond in Spanish. There were a few Spanish ‘amen’s and halleluiahs’. I got off the hook eventually and the groups went back to song and prayer. After a while people would go to the front and ask for the groups prayers or sing a song of dedication. Finally, (and I could feel it coming) I was asked if I wanted to come to the front and share a few words… I spoke mostly in English and asked the speaker to translate for me. I just told them that I was on a journey and trying to safely find my way. I thanked God, asked for His guidance, and asked for their prayers. It was a very interesting day and a very cultural experience.

The next morning I headed to Coban after a failed attempt to get into the caves at Candelaria. If it was dry I may have made it to the caves but it was pouring, and I didn’t want to end up stuck or broke down in the middle of this road in the jungle.

I know I was really looking forward to seeing Coban but after getting there I wasn’t sure why. It seemed so different from what I remembered. The streets seemed cluttered with signs, power lines, and grime. McDonalds and a megamall had moved in and it seemed like the old charm was buried a little deeper. I did manage to get out and see some sites around town and after a couple of days the town started to grow on me. Lanquin caves were dark, damp, slimy, and musty (go figger) but Semuc Champey was really cool.

Semuc Champey is a natural area in the cloud forest with the major attraction being the point where a small stream is tributary to a larger river. The stream fills a number of amazing pools in the limestone. It’s green, clean, cool, and refreshing. After a hot and humid climb to the mirador that overlooks the river valley, a dip in the pools was perfect. Barely upstream of the pools the larger river dives into a cave. The water was violent and I thought it was like the world’s largest toilet. A human body would be a very small turd and flushed very easily. The pools are directly above the underground river. The river joins the stream downstream of the pools in about 500 meters and below a small waterfall.

When leaving Coban I drove right through the town of Tactic to get to Biotopo de Quetzal. I didn’t see a Quetzal but I had a great time looking for one. From the Biotopo I tried to make it to Antigua but only got as far as Guatemala City. It could have been interesting but I managed to find the ‘Shithole Hotel’ with good parking. When I went out for dinner I learned the hotel was sandwiched between a street filled with hookers and another street that is used as a public toilet. It was as bad as anything I can recall seeing in India. Dinner was good though. McDonalds provided breakfast and after surviving the night I headed to Antigua.

Antigua is great. I love this town. It is full of amazing restaurants, cafes, and bars. I tried to hit a different spot every night. Most places had amazing courtyards hidden in the back complete with arches, fountains, and gardens. The cities architecture is preserved in the colonial era and is really beautiful. There must be a lot of building restrictions to maintain its historical feel. Once again, I only planned to stay and study Spanish for a week but I made it two. I dropped in on some live music at different places with the highlight being when I identified the song ‘Barcelona Nights’ by Ottmar Liebert to the musician. He was quite impressed that I knew it and proceeded with a number of awesome flamenco tunes on his guitar. Most nights were spent on my own but there were a couple of nights out with my classmates Julie and Gloria and their friend Ziggy. Gloria and Julie are both from the UK and Ziggy is a German fella that spoke as much English as I did German. Amazingly Dean and Jeremiah (my cousins husband and son) spotted me in the Central Park and we spent the afternoon together wondering through the market.

On the final weekend of my stay in Antigua and there was a Christian religious celebration… (help me out here Leslie)… where it was the 40 days leading up to Easter. I’ll have to do some reading but I think the thing is that Jesus was crucified on, or about, this time and was resurrected 40 days later on Easter????

Beginning in a small puebla about 2km outside of Antigua, there was a march down the streets lead by kids in Roman soldier costumes, followed by Christians and all there burning/smoking things, people carrying huge platforms with a religious event (good vs. evil) symbolized in paper-mache and flowers. This was followed by bands, smaller platforms (Mary or Jesus, or some other saint, or some symbol), and then finally the general population. Of course there were vendors selling everything from sodas to rattling Christians on a stick (I think they were filled with candy). The road on the parade route was decorated with colorful sawdust, flowers, fruit, and plants. There was a lot of dedication, time and money spent on these beautiful arrangements to have them finally walked on by the parade procession. I caught the parade first thing in the morning and I understood that it just grew in size as they spent the entire day marching through the streets ending up at the church in Antigua. It was very interesting to watch and I can only imagine how grand the procession would be on the Easter weekend.

After 2 weeks I got all I could handle with my Spanish lessons and I left town for Monterrico on the Pacific coast. When I was almost there the temperature gauge on my van started bouncing between the top and bottom of scale. After pulling out the books and doing some troubleshooting that left me with burns from my knuckles to my forearm I decided I had an electrical problem with the sensor. The electric radiator fans (separate sensor) seemed to be operating correctly and my overflow bottle was at normal levels. I limped into town and camped in the back of a hotels garden area and spent the next couple of days fooling with the van. I found some exposed wiring (the hard way… arcs and sparks) and cleaned that up but I think the arc caused some other damage as the gauge is on bottom.

The beach in Monterrico was insanely hot. The sand was black and I couldn’t walk on it without flip flops. The surf was angry and I didn’t dare go in above my knees. I watched a few people go in and wondered if they were going to come back to shore with their clothes torn from their bodies. Everyone came out of the water on all 4’s or on their asses. Other than working on the van I walked the beach, took a tour through the mangroves in a small boat, and enjoyed the hotels swimming pool. Two days later I left for the VW shop in Guatemala City for a service and a sensor.

By accident, I found the VW service shop easily. It was nearly the end of the day and they wanted to work on the van the next day once it was cooled down. Since they couldn’t recommend a hotel in the area they let me camp in the van in their parking lot. After meeting the guard dogs and bribing them with dog cookies and half of my dinner we got along just fine. Unfortunately that was the only highlight of this venture as $400.00 later I got a major service, new front brake pads and damage to the body of my van that affects closing the side door. The wieners used the bottom edge of the body panel to lift the van on the hoist which caused the bottom door runner to bow. I am pissed off and hanging out into next week while there auto body dude tries to fix it up. I would use serious profanity here but I know my nieces may be reading this.

Anyhow, another week behind schedule but I hope to cross into El Salvador early next week… Until then ‘Go Canada Go!’ Hockey gold or bust!

Yucatan to Guatamala via Belize

The weather was still quite cool, wet, and windy when I arrived in Cancun. I hung out for a couple of days and managed to stay out of trouble.  After leaving Cancun I headed down the coast towards Playa Del Carmen and over to Cozumel. I took the van over to Cozumel as the ferry was quite cheap and it worked out to be cheaper than storing the van and taking taxi’s everywhere. The weather was still quite crappy and because of this I didn’t go diving. The majority of the time was spent catching some sun around the pool and beach, excursions to town, and drives around the island. The drive around the island was in the pouring rain and wind and I was glad not to be one of the ‘die hard’ tourists I saw on the little scooters. Returning to the mainland I headed to Chetumal and found a nice camp spot on the bay to relax before heading into Belize.

Crossing into Belize was painless and I was very fortunate to find a perfect camp spot on the river in Orange Walk. From camp you could see crocodiles and a ton of different birds. There was a restaurant nearby and they provided a shower and washrooms. Boats left from the restaurant every morning up the New River and through the mangrove and jungle to the Mayan ruins of Lamanai. On the boat trip I saw spider monkeys, crocodiles, iguanas, and lots of birds. The vegetation along the river was lush and filled with color. The ruins are only partially uncovered and the excavations exposed various structures under a blanket of jungle vegetation. Although it’s not a huge complex like Chichen Itza it was very interesting to see it hidden within the jungle and kind of adventurous arriving by boat via a jungle river.

After a couple of days at Orange Walk I drove onto the Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary. I was able to camp was set up at the Crooked Tree Resort in a private area by the lake front. Here it wasn’t the mosquitoes that created the grief but rather the red ants. They moved in on the second day and any exposed skin below the knees became a meal for the little buggers. Pants and shoes became a requirement. I have learned since then that the simplest thing to do is move the kitchen about 10 feet once they arrive. There was a couple willing to share the expenses of a boat and guide and we spent one morning cruising around the lake bird watching. The weather held out and we managed to see a lot of birds and the wake of a manatee very close to the boat. The afternoon and the next morning were spent walking around with the binoculars as there wasn’t much else to do. It was quite pretty and a very relaxing time. When leaving camp I managed to get the van stuck but was easily pulled out by the Resort manager.

Again, the crappy weather combined with a bit of a cold prevented me from diving on Ambergis Caye. After hanging out for a couple of days I returned to the mainland and after a failed attempt to get to Pernell and Karen’s place I drove from Corozol to San Ignacio on the Guatemala border in one easy day. In camp I met up with Michel and Alex from Belgium. They are travelling to Costa Rica in their Land Rover. We went to town, shared a few meals, and crossed the Guatemala border together. Again, the border crossing was easy and we arrived in the Yaxha National Park by mid day.

I am in Antigua Guatamala studying Spanish again.  I plan to stay for another week before heading to El Salvador.

The mad dash south...

In case you don’t remember (or I never told you)… the plan was to store the bike in Baja because you don’t need a ‘Temporary Importation Permit’ there. These permits are issued in La Paz (on the southern tip of Baja) where you cross to the mainland. I learned (the hard way) that they issue permits in La Paz but you have to cancel or transfer it to another vehicle at the USA, Belize, or Guatemala border and not at La Paz.

So what happened at Aduana… My mistake was thinking 1 of the 2 scenarios would work for me… 1) I could get a permit for my bike and my van while travelling in Mexico, or 2) I could transfer the permit from the bike to the van, or otherwise cancel the bike permit and get a new one for the van in La Paz. I went to the Aduana counter to get the paper work done and was quickly informed that I had 2 options… 1) Return to the USA border or 2) get the second permit in my wife’s name. She was very cute and spoke pretty good English so I proposed marriage to her on the spot and promised to register the BMW in her name. She blushed, but I couldn’t believe it when she said no!  Heart broken, I left there to retrieve my van from storage and bounced the situation off the manager of the storage lot.  He had a solution too… We could hire some Mexican ‘friends’ of his to grease the palms of the officials and they could smuggle the bike into the states for me. In affect, I would pay some banditos to steal my bike for me. I thought really hard for 2.874 seconds and declined the offer. I then hopped in the van and with the bike in tow made a mad dash back to San Diego. The ironic thing was that the office for cancelling the permit was in downtown Tijuana and not even at the border. I learned this after sitting in line at the border for 2.5 hours only to come back to Mexico (1.5 hrs at the border), find the Aduana office (4.5 hrs), change the permit (15 minutes), re-enter the USA (2.0 hrs). I quickly found a storage facility near the airport and arranged to put things in storage for the next morning. I grabbed a quick bite to eat, organized my gear, and slept in the van in the street just outside of the storage facility. Lying there I was reminded that it was my 4th long day on the road without a shower.   I had to catch a flight the next morning to catch up with Selena who was already waiting for me in Puerto Vallarta. I learned something very important at the San Diego airport… The ‘family washrooms’ have facilities to wash poopy babies. Yahoo! I bought a bottle of lavender body wash from the perfume outlet store, went into the family washroom, locked the doors, stripped naked, and had a ‘shower’ in time to get on the plane fresh and smelling good. The only bad part was trying to dry with paper towels and a hand blower.

I arrived in Puerto Vallarta a few days later than planned and without wheels. Selena and I had a nice time together. We visited a few small towns down the coast, did some hikes, enjoyed the swimming pools and the beaches, and generally just hung-out together. Ten days later Selena returned home and I returned to San Diego to pick up the van.

Returning to San Diego, I picked up the van and set out to reclaim the distance I lost by having to return to San Diego. I travelled down the mainland mostly on the expensive toll highways. I stopped only to sleep and eat until I got as far as Jalisco where I felt a bit caught up. This part of the trip was quite uneventful and this was exemplified by the New Year’s celebration. I had hoped to get as far as Mazatlan to celebrate but I found myself a day late and in Culican. It’s a big city so I ‘googled’ night clubs that may be hosting a New Year’s party. I didn’t find anything specific and the front desk couldn’t make any recommendations. I short listed to 4 clubs and had the front desk call to see if I needed advanced tickets or not. Of course no one answered the phones so I just grabbed a taxi and headed out. It was nearly 11:00 and every club I went to was either closed or void of life. I finally found a place that at least had a big screen TV with sports. I went in and the football game was over 10 minutes later. Everyone left and the bar was shutting down around me. The owner listened to my complaint and bought me a beer. It was obvious nothing was happening so I asked him to call me a cab that didn’t show up. He was trying to get home to his girlfriend so he offered me a lift back to the hotel. Feeling sorry for myself I was in my room before midnight. I fired up the computer to send out some mid-night greetings but my PC died. That was the final straw… I went to bed and decided to make a direct shot for Mexico City.

Two days later I arrived in Mexico City hoping to meet up with Pilar and see the sites. Unfortunately, due to my short notice we weren’t able to meet up. The weather was getting really crappy and I decided to continue on. I felt it may be best to visit Mexico City on my return trip.

The next day I stopped at Puebla and visited some of the sites there. I found a nice spot by a city park where I decided to camp for the night. By midnight the police had checked me out 3 separate times. The first time it was a truck with at least 3 policemen with full combat gear. And the next couple of times they came out of the trees on foot. It spooked me at first and made me question my readiness should it have been unsavory dudes instead of the police. The next morning I was awaken by voices outside of the van. At first I just laid there until I could hear quite a few voices. I got dressed and opened the blinds to find about 30 guys milling around. The parking lot I had chosen was the site of their early morning soccer game and I was camping at mid-field. They were too polite to knock on my door and they were waiting for me to get up and move my van. I moved it to the end of the parking lot and the game was on!!

From there I travelled to Villahermosa and tried to link up with a friend I had worked with years ago. Luis was my interpreter and technical writer with Energia Mayakan and I have lost his contact information a few years ago. He lived in Comacalco on the Gulf of Mexico. I went to his town hoping to find him. Everything looked so different and I couldn’t find the street that he lived on. I moved on from there to the Yucatan coast.

My next blog will be about the drive down the Yucatan, through Belize, and into Guatemala where I am now. Presently I am in the Yaxha National Park overlooking Logo de Mancanche and listening to the howler monkeys in the jungle. I think I’ll go see if I can find them.

Ok, let’s go back in time about a month ago….

I rode with the ‘Gladiadores’ from Guadalajara to Puerto Vallarta on the free highway. It was a pretty trip and we rode it without incident (which is more than I can say about the minor incident the weekend before). We all stayed in a discount hotel in downtown Puerto Vallarta for the weekend and then I added a couple of days for myself to kick back a little. We spent some time at the beach, some time at the rally, and finally ended up on the Puerto Vallarta malecon by midnight. There was a live ‘wanna-be’ Marilyn Manson band playing at the moto rally that was almost saved by the girls tattoo contest; but not quite. It’s amazing where girls put tattoos these days! Again, where’s my damn camera? Tibieron (a cool hermano del Gladeadores) won the men’s tattoo contest primarily due to the size of his fan club. I am glad to say his tattoo was on his arm. Later that night we parked our bikes along the side walk on the malecon and made it our own space. Hectors trike had a stereo competing with the music from the adjacent night clubs and the traffic. Some of the guys really surprised me with their ability to dance. They pulled in a number of girls off the street and swung them to the Salsa and the Curumba??? Of course I was supposed to do the same but I had a sudden sense of incompetence. Tibieron would say to me ‘C’mon, do your job!’ I managed to stumble through a couple of dances. One Latino lady was absolutely amazing. I think she could have been on ‘Dancing with the Stars’. Angelo turns and says to me ‘She’s not counting!’ It was really funny! She finished her dance, gave a few hugs and kisses, and off she went. I ended the night with some tacos from a street stall just outside of the hotel at 3:00 in the morning. The Gladeadores all rode back to Guadalajara that Sunday and I rode solo from there.

I rode down the coast from Puerto Vallarta to Manzanillo stopping at a number of gorgeous beaches and small towns including Tenacatita, La Manzanilla, and Barra de Navidad. La Manzanilla was my favorite spot on this leg of the trip with its quite beach and awesome sea food. The road was pretty clear of traffic with easy curves and good pavement. The tierra varied from lush vegetation to scrub dessert. All of the spots I stopped at were very laid back and almost void of any tourists. This was good and bad as there weren’t many people to support the local economy but then I could practice my Taekwondo without attracting too much attention.

From Manzanillo I turned inland to Lago Chapala via Colima and then on to Morelia. The landscape changed quickly from lush to salt flats and finally pine forest around the lake area. From Chapala I rode through the mountains and stopped at a very traditional town called Mazamitla. It reminded me of the towns I visited years ago in Nepal. The city of Morelia is defiantly worth a visit. The city is much smaller than Guadalajara but the architecture and sites were equally impressive in my opinion. I thought the selection of restaurants and bars were better situated and more plentiful within the historical areas than in Guadalajara. All the best sites to see were within walking distance of my hotel and it didn’t take long to find some small clubs playing good live music on the first night and a rockin nightclub the next night. Where the hell was Sjoerd!

From Morelia I headed back to Mazatlan via Tequila. Tequila is a neat town once you get off the highway. There was a Christmas parade and free tequila samples in every store. From there I rode back to Mazatlan to catch the ferry to La Paz where I planned to pick up the van and return with it to Puerto Vallarta. When I returned to La Paz my nightmare from hell started with Aduana (Mexican customs). This !#%^&*&% situation forced me to return all the way to San Diego with the van and motorcycle before I could begin travelling on the Mexico mainland with the van. It ended up costing me about 4,000 km of extra driving, un dolor en la nache (a pain in the ass), and a few pesos too! And the worst thing is it cut into my blog update time… I had to remind myself that the journey is the important thing as every day has a new destination. More on this story in my next update.

By the way, I am near Mexico City now and hope to make it Coatzacoalcos on the Golfo De Mexico to see if I can find an old friend of mine that I worked with a few years back. From there I will head down the Yucatan coast and into Belize. I am healthy and doing just fine in case you were starting to wonder.

Durango, Guadalajara, y Mazatlan...

I started this blog entry on November 7th in Durango and I finally finish it today on November 30th in Puerto Vallarta. I didn’t make it down to Batopilas from Creel as construction had the rode tore up pretty badly and I didn’t really want to push my luck.

I rode from Creel to Durango in a couple of days and then cooled my jets to see the city. Durango is a nice City. It has a very nice ‘Centro’ surrounded by interesting streets and architecture. There are a lot of good restaurants and places to see. I didn’t talk to many people that could speak any English at all. My bad Spanish was a little frustrating as I could tell if a guy knew how to say it… something was happening somewhere! I only stayed for a couple nights until heading to Mazatlan across a very amazing highway over the mountains.

In Canada we seem to build the highways in the valley and have a few sections where you climb over the peaks and then back down into the valley. This highway seemed to travel the peaks and ridges of the highest mountains. Again, the scenery was spectacular and the cliffs were breathtaking. The roads were in great shape but many of the curves were so tight the semi trucks couldn't navigate them without taking the entire oncoming lane. Every blind corner had to be ridden assuming there was an oncoming truck leaving you nowhere to go. I had to be prepared to come to a complete stop or ride the shoulder if one existed. The weather was cool leaving Durango but as I came out of the mountains and into Mazatlan the temperature rose at least 10 to 15 degrees.


I booked an all-inclusive that I found online for a bargain and hung out at the Mazatlan RIU for 4 nights of indulgence and partying. The food was just ok but the room, the pool, the gym, and the beach were perfect. The hotel was populated almost 50/50 with Canadians and Mexicans. All the craziest people in the pool were from Winnipeg and we defiantly had a few drinks between us. Ummm…. I don’t mean body shots… honest! I hung around the pool and the beach most of the time and only made one excursion to town to see a live band on the malecon in old Mazatlan. It was fun, and I got to practice my Espaniol but it was a pretty early night.

From Mazatlan I rode to San Blas for a couple of nights and then to Sayulita just north of Puerto Vallarta. I can see why all my Aunties have been coming here for the past few years! It’s a very cool little ‘puebla del mar’ with good restaurants, surf, sun, and bikinis. Well… maybe my aunties would have noticed the surfer dudes more than the bikinis, but they were all there. Yes, Auntie Betty, It has become very clear to me now! It was bit of a reconnaissance trip as I had to head to Guadalajara for Spanish lessions beginning the next day so I only stayed the one night. I couldn’t believe it… 9 friendly girls from California staying in a gorgeous 9 bedroom villa and I had to leave the next day! Half of them were even my age… or at least within 13 years. I am sure to return in the next few weeks as it is a really is a cool place to hang out.

In Guadalajara I was booked for a 1 week Spanish course but I ended up extending it for an extra week. The course was quite intense but I know it is going to be very helpful with a little time and practice. I stayed with an older couple for a very economical $100/week, including 2 meals per day. Miguel and his wife Graciela are really nice people and staying with them gave me great opportunities to practice my Spanish. They live in an apartment within a great neighborhood. I would take my homework on my walks every night and find a nice spot to work. Some nights it was in a park, and others a patio lounge, or a local taco stand. Sometimes I would spend more time helping others speak English then I did practicing my Spanish but it was always good fun either way. The only down side to the apartment was that I had to find a storage site in the center of town for the bike. With that I didn’t have convenient access to the bike on a daily basis and had to take the bus to school. I had a couple of late nights clubbing with Sjoerd 'el holandes' but we managed to stay out of real trouble. Between that, and lunching, and getting to know Dave (USA), the Austrian girls (so cute, and good with the Spanish to boot!), Dillon (Australia) and his girlfriend (Guadalajara), and others from the school; I did manage to see a lot of the historical sites in the city. I could easily go back for another visit!


This past weekend I rode with the ‘Gladeadores’ to Puerto Vallarta for the weekend. I’ll try to get to that story tomorrow!

I will probably hang out here for a couple of days before I return to La Paz via Sayulita and Mazatlan to pick up the van. I am really torn up about leaving the bike. It creates so much flexibility when getting around and it creates a lot of interest from locals, other travelers, and tourists alike. But then again, I am really looking forward to camping with a cooler, an awning, and a BBQ!

Viaje con Dios!

OK, I think I have it right… it’s November 7th and I am in Durango. I didn’t make it down to Batopilas as the road construction had the rode tore up pretty badly. After reflecting back on my ride through Copper Canyon I have to admit I didn’t want to push my luck…

After leaving El Fuerte I rode east following the map given to me by Ray. The ride varied from hard packed clay, 4” deep silt, deeper sand, to ruts you could throw a body into and boulders bigger than my fat head. I dropped the bike twice. Both times were on steep left hairpin turns. The first drop was in sand and I was doing OK until the back end spun out from under me. I was able to get the bike up without too much difficulty and I continued on my way. I rode into the afternoon without another incident and I was starting to feel pretty comfortable despite the cliffs and what seemed to be a bottomless canyon only a few feet away. It was quite intimidating at times and I choose not to look down the canyon too often in fear that I may be crawling out of there. I am not good with heights. The second time I dropped the bike I tore off the left hard case. Once down I spun the bike around on the head cover as the hill was too steep, and the rut to deep, to lift the bike. Even after doing this I couldn’t lift it and I was preparing to take off the luggage when a fella stopped and gave me a hand to stand it up. I wired the box latch closed, and it has been holding together ever since. Time went on and I was getting quite concerned that the sun was setting on me. I wasn’t sure if I was on the right road and I had no idea where I was going to spend the night. I was starting to pay attention to small clearings on the side of the road where I thought I could pull off and camp without getting run over in the night. This was a legitimate concern as I had stopped earlier in the day to buy a pop and some junk food and while I enjoyed my break no less than 3 vehicles pulled in for more beer. One truck load of teenage boys were so drunk they literally stumbled into the store, bought a couple of 6-packs, slurred some profanities at me for not speaking better Spanish and sped off. They were plastered! Ten minutes before it got dark I rolled into a small Pueblo where I managed to get a bed, a flush toilet, a hot shower, dinner, and breakfast for about $12.00. It wasn’t the Hilton but it was God sent. Overall the next day went fairly smoothly until I met up with the dump truck. The road was very narrow and I pulled as far to the cliff side of the road as I could. I stopped the bike and waited for him to pass. The mistake I made was thinking I should stay on my side of the road. The mistake he made was seeing how close he could get to me instead of the wall on the other side. It was like a well placed hip check when his rear tire hit my side case. He hit me hard enough to knock me off center and towards the edge. I had nowhere to put my right foot down. I let go of the clutch, stalled the bike and grabbed onto the truck. I swear it was the second miracle on that trip. I was holding on or going over the edge. It wasn’t the steepest part but it was at least 300 feet down. I think my bike would have been broken forever. I managed to get the bike into neutral but I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t let go so I couldn’t start the bike or get it into gear. The driver got out, said something in Spanish and it came to me… ‘Empuje’! I had never used the word but have read it on a million doors… ‘Push’. He pushed me past the tire. I got my foot down, started the bike, and squeezed past the back of the truck. I didn’t stop and I didn’t look back, and I tried not to think. I was really grateful when I got to the hard top road. Looking back at it, it was a little foolish. While I made it alive and the views were amazing; I don’t recommend doing this trip alone, regardless of your riding skills. One drop to close to the edge or one drunk driver and you won’t be found for a very long time and you will probably be dead.

'Gladeadores' and burn outs!

I’ll tell you about Cabo (or tell you most of it) once I have left the place…

… Well, I left the place, stored the van in La Paz and took the Topolobampo ferry across the Sea of Cortez and then rode to Los Mochis on the mainland.

Cabo was nice. The campground was more geared for big rigs and it wasn’t exactly cheap. It was walking distance to the beach and easy to get to. I walked around the Marina area and was quite impressed by the scale of the waterfront upgrades and mega construction that has been completed, but it was amazingly quite to me. Every bar had someone in it but because there is 5000 places, 10,000 customers is a small number all of a sudden. From Cabo I organized my storage, chilled out, got bike parts, chilled out some more, toured San Jose (my first impression says I like this town better than San Lucas), you got it, chilled some more, and washed the van and bike. I didn’t actually get to town much as I was quite content either on the bike or by the pool. I had to reload for the bike trip, and besides, after La Paz I needed the rest. Liking La Paz so much, I returned. This time I headed straight to the hotel after storing the van and only stopped for breakfast on the way to the ferry.

On the ferry I met up with 2 John Deere sales dudes Dave and Jose. We drank a couple beers and they were then kind enough to share a bunk in their 4 bunk Suite. It was funny because I had spotted them and their truck (I was thinking of Tim) getting on the ferry, and we managed to get to know each other later.

All hell broke out in Los Mochis the day after I rode in. I managed to land in town the day before a weekend bike rally was planned. There were live bands, thousands of people and their bikes, cheves (the local word for beer), tequila, burn outs, wheelies. I met a lady who introduced me to her son (Ray and later, Taco), who introduced me to the promoter (Tito), who introduced me to his family. I was invited for lunch with Tito’s extended family and I felt like an honored guest. While cruising around Topo and Playa Mavida I ran into a group from the ‘Gladeadores’ (Gladiators) Motorcycle Club out of Guadalajara. They were very cool people that worked hard to communicate with me and ensure I had a good time. I ran into them chilling on the Topo waterfront with music and beers. I pulled over to join them and practice a little Espaniol. They greeted me like the gringo loco I am and we hit it off immediately. Angelo’s (right) English is really good and it made the difference as my Spanish has a long way to go. Hector (left) is the father of the group and the life of the party (he kinda reminds me of Daryl) with his son and nephew. Toss in more amigos and amigas from the club, a hundred friends from all over, and another 3,000 bikers and we had a party that lasted all weekend long. It was the real Mexico to the core. ‘Viva Mexico Cabaronnes!’ What went down… Something that was either a destruction test or a loudest muffler competition was very popular. Bikes were doing brake stands everywhere. Modified trikes, quads and bikes were popping wheelies dangerously close to wild fans while all the time the live band is rocking to an old Led Zepplin song in the background (and doing a very good job too). Broken bottles and empty cans were everywhere. Girls were stuffed into leather pants. Over powered, under muffled, smoking, screaming motorcycles were put to the red line. The police were watching everything very dispassionately. Hell, they even lead the whole drunken bunch on a parade. I had to step away in the photo or surely I would have been killed by something. It was a blast! What great people! And then I just slept in the street again, but this time I didn’t have my van… Ha! Just kidding… Remember the first lady I met? Her family made sure I found a good hotel that was walking distance to the festival. They also took me for breakfast and invited me into their home just to make sure I survived the weekend. This was another opportunity where I only planned to stay a day and ended up staying for a bit longer due to ‘super bueno festival’. I plan on meeting up with the Gladeadores again in Guadalajara and I will also call back on Ignacio and his family when I pass through Los Mochis again. I got a map to Creel from Ray and I am set to go up the Copper Canyon on bike via El Fuerte.

I rode into El Fuerte on Sunday, Nov. 1st. Ignacio set me up in a nice hotel with a great view at a discount rate of 300p. It is the start of the ‘Festival of the dead’ today. As it is was explained to me by a couple of people… It is an opportunity to go to the grave side for a day of celebration. Families go to the grave side with candles and flowers, other decorations, and a picnic (and quite often, a bit of tequila). I saw a number of cemeteries decorated with flowers and populated with people having their day with the muertes.

I rode into Creel today, Tuesday Nov. 4th. The bike and my nerves are mostly all together but that’s the story for the next blog… I plan to Ride to Batopilas and then to Durango via Parrel de Hidalgo over the next week.