When I say that Mexico is the (blank) country to ride through in my trip so far, I have to be careful. The word I want to use is negative, but what it implies is much more than I'm trying to admit. Never have I thought of quitting as much as I have in Mexico.
I've doubled the number of flats since Alaska, all in just a week and half in Michoacan and Guerrero. I dealt with the mental anguish leaving Guadalajara. I broke my favorite surfboard. I've been sick two different times. I've struggled with heat and hills all through Mexico, and very nearly succumbed to heat exhaustion one day. I've had hurricane rains. My tent has been broken all through Mexico, except for Baja. It takes me twice the amount of time to pitch it, and is more of a teepee, that doesn't allow me to sit upright inside like I used to be able to. Since Puerto Escondido, my riding gloves have taken a turn and really started to disintegrate. The gloves had holes in the them that slowly enlarged, and have been so sticky that I have to peel from from my handlebars anytime I want to lift my hand(s). I've been sunburned bad a few times, had a bacterial infection, a few terrible night's sleep, I've been battling heat rash that will flare up all over my body and feels like needles that sting. I continually fight off dogs chasing me. I had money stolen from one of my bags. I had headwinds all the way from a couple days before reaching Merida, that continued to Playa Del Carmen. It's been hard. I've often thought riding that it seems like Mexico is trying to cripple me, trying to crush me and my trip.
Even now, when I had packages delivered to me from Peter at OSS, and my Mom, I had to pay $140 USD of "taxes" where the packages were being held (I didn't have to pay anything for a package from my Mom in La Paz in Baja, nor in GDL from a package from Peter ).
Of course there have still been some good times and highlights. I really try to focus on those moments, as few as they may be. But maybe I'm just complaining too much, maybe it's not as bad as it really seems. Maybe I'm just tired of the trip and I'm making up excuses now. I don't know.
Now I'm relaxing in Cozumel, and
really enjoying some time off from the usual grind. I've been riding long days through the Yucatan to get out of Mexico in time before my visa expires. It's nice and flat on the peninsula and had numerous days over 100km. In the north I only had several 8 hour days that I could remember, now it's more common than it should be.
I'm
really looking forward to getting into Belize and Central America. I'm
very excited. I've never been to another country besides Mexico and Canada. I'm always been curious to see what the differences are between the Latin American countries.
After having a good relaxing couple days in Puerto Escondido, I moved on. I was thinking of omitting the name of my next stop because I thought it was more of a secret spot to surf, and supposed to be one of the best waves. Well turns out they had a WCT surf contest there one year, and I was skunked for waves, I didn't really think it was important. Just a couple days of riding, through more long days of hill and heat, and I made it to Barra de la Cruz. It's funny
how many times I met people from San Diego, along the coast of Mexico. Barra was no exception, a couple guys had flown in from SD the very moment I arrived at the palapas to camp out. It was strange to think how far I had traveled in six months, everything I had been through, and just earlier that morning, they were in San Diego...
There were a few other travelers there, one was Heath, from New Zealand, traveling around the Americas solo. He had his camera and gear stolen on the beach, where he left it to go for a surf. Together we went to a couple different nearby towns and I helped translate what he was looking for, and the reward he offered. (I would later find out that I had my "emergency" money stash stolen from one of my pannier bags. I forgot to go to an ATM, and one day had to get money out. I had my pannier bags hanging because the ants were so bad, instead of taking the bag down, and removing the money while in my tent, I took it out directly from the bag - stupid. Somebody is always watching)
I had heard that Barra was one of the best waves in the world. People described it as the best wave they have ever surfed. We even watched a film about the WCT contest held there, and heard pros talking about it's the best wave they've surfed. Just my luck though, the wave was mushy, sectiony, and small when I first arrived. Still the water, scenery, and vibe was great and was a good dose of change off the bike (and the busy/touristy atmosphere of Puerto).
After Barra, there was still loads more nasty hills with heat, all the way to Salina Cruz. After the city, the road flattened out, but then I had a nasty headwind. The headwind was steady, and strong, didn't falter, only changed to a crosswind. Turning North, for 30km, the headwind intensified, as I crawled my way towards a town called Ventosa (aptly named, means windy). Nearing the small town, I saw hundreds of wind turbines. It was then I realized it's probably the prevailing wind. Sure enough my thoughts were confirmed and a couple nice locals even told me that was a relatively calm day... I can't even imagine. I guess trucks overturn rather frequently there.
After having a terrible nights sleep behind a Pemex, hiding in my tent behind a wall to block the wind (the wind beat my injured tent and it flapped all night). I experienced
the strongest wind of my life on a bike. I was nearly blown from my bike, several times. I don't know how I didn't crash. I don't know how to describe how strong the wind was. Leaving Ventosa, I had a direct crosswind from the left and for about 10km, I crept along, feet unclipped, hands on the brakes and struggling to make forward progress. Past more wind turbines that were generating tons of power, the wind lessened after about 20km and I was on my way. Finally making good progress on the flat ground.
I could have made my way straight and in only 2-3 more days of riding, I would have been in Guatemala. Numerous people told me how beautiful the state of Chiapas is, and I wanted to see Yucatan and the peninsula (and of course get my packages that were being sent to Cozumel. One had my proof of vaccination card that I misplaced, that I need to enter other countries. The other contained my new custom made tent poles which I desperately needed because my tent was in dire straights with all broken tent poles).
So I made the turn, and up into the mountains of Chiapas I climbed. The first climb up wasn't so bad. I was enjoying the stunning scenery as made my way up the long windy road. Then after getting over the top and into the flats, I had a headwind again, the rest of the day, and the next. Tuxtla Gutiíerrez was just another big city, but I had promised myself a to a treat (as I often do) to some internet and coffee. I had heard that San Cristóbal was a great city to see, and it happened to be on my route. After looking online, I found a hostel that offered the first night to cyclists free. So I planned to take a day off there, and get the always much needed shower and laundry in. I looked on the map and saw that I had a
really crazy climb to get to San Cristobal (check a topo map).
I camped at the base of the hill, and for one, entire day, I was climbing. It was DEFINITELY the longest hill I have ever done, maybe not the most difficult, but surely the longest. I was going up hill for ~35km straight with an average of ~6.5 km/hr. I was in first gear, and crawling up hill, all day. It was amazing to see the view increase, and my elevation. There was a slight ceiling of clouds that I actually climbed up into.
I was giddy when I came over the top and down the hill, looking at the town. This mountain city in a valley, surrounded by mountains covered in pine trees. It was so different, and cold! I was used to the heat and humidity. I had a day off in town, that really consisted of doing errands on my bike (not the most relaxing rest day), but I still enjoyed the sights. The architecture in San Cristobal is something special, and after reading about it, it's described as having a very real Spanish influence. Like a lot of the places I've gone to in Mexico, there is an ongoing duality that I observe between the wealthy and the poor. There are a lot more indigenous in Chiapas (and the Yucatan peninsula of course), and even in San Cristobal. The town is real touristy with coffee shops, and tourists walking the streets around the center. Just a few blocks away to the north, and you find the barrio. I went to the supermarket there and you see quite a different side of the town where the poorest of the poor are trying to get by and make ends meet selling knick-knacks of every kind.
The day I left San Cristobal, I had a winding, hilly day again, but it felt different. There was less traffic on the road. There was a nice fresh pine scent in the air, and not the usual rotting carcass smell, burning trash, or rotting mangos/cocounts/corpses. With the cool mountain air, I was riding strong. For the first time in a while, I was enjoying riding, but of course it was short lived.
After having a full day, up and down hills, winding around the mountains of Chiapas, I could feel myself starting to lose energy, but in a different kind of way. I tried to not think of it, and instead planned a perfect evening. I was going to find a great camp spot in the pine trees, cook a good dinner. I bought my favorite cookies, with some milk for desert, and was going to have a pleasant relaxing evening before bed. I knew earlier in the day, that I was becoming sick, having just been sick before I reached Acapulco. I could feel a different kind of tired feeling setting in, and lethargy. After pushing my bike up a long dirt rocky hill, I found a great camp spot next to an antennae, overlooking two valleys. I made camp, and with my warm clothes on, stood in the dark looking at the stars. I had no appetite (huh, after a hard day of riding?), and thought about what I was going to do. Going to bed, and waking up in the morning, I was definitely sick. There was no way I could ride like this.
So I had to camp out there. I slept as long as I could, until the sun was high enough that it cooked me out of the tent (I didn't find a proper spot in shade because like always, thought I was leaving in the morning). So I took my chair and
fortunately had a book to read, and hid in the shade of a pine tree for most of the day. I counted the minutes slowly ticking past, just waiting so I could get back into the tent and rest. I finally could, and slept more in the tent. I had some ibuprofen which I liberally took to help me sleep, and with the body aches I had. I ate a little, and hoped the following day I would feel better, but waking again the following day, I was in the same condition. I had to repeat the whole process all over again, counting seconds to minutes, and waiting in the shade all day. I was out of water at this point, and had to walk back down the dirt trail to the street where a house was to get more.
By the third day I was finally feeling better, but knew I shouldn't jump back on the bike right away. I had barely eaten anything for two days, my muscles were starting to atrophy from lack of use. So I walked to the nearby town, to be sure I was feeling better, and got a few things. I took shelter in the nearby abandoned church during the peak heat of the day (I cannot imagine if I had been sick at a lower elevation with the real heat and humidity).
Everyday there were sometimes people that passed by my camp occasionally, to go collect fire wood. It was funny because there were several people, that passed several different times. Since I was there so long, it started to feel like my neighbors, and they'd stop and chat for a bit, ask if I was feeling better. Most people here speak their native language and Spanish. There are some people I encountered that it seemed like they didn't speak any Spanish because when I would say some greetings, they would basically just ignore me. I would think "how rude", but some of my neighbors confirmed my thoughts. I had passed a sign that said it was a bilingual school, and I remember thinking that maybe it was for Spanish.
The fourth day, finally, I felt good enough to ride (I hoped was good enough!). I was up early, ate, packed and back on the road. It was so nice to get back riding, and now I was really nervous to get out of Mexico with the limited time left in my visa. I was already pressed for time, with only a few weeks left in my visa, and still had to cross the Yucatan. I knew I was going to have to put in
lots of long, consecutive days to make headway. I knew the peninsula was supposed to be flat, I only hoped that the winds would agree.
From Ocosingo to Palenque, it was very strange encountering some of the people. In almost all of the towns, I would hear "gringo" being yelled from most of the kids, and even some of the adults. Gringo, like güero, aren't supposed to be really negative words, but it depends on the connotation. I never liked the word gringo (I don't mind güero really), and the way these people would yell it out at me as I passed through the towns, got to me. Even more, some people would even yell "berga gringo", which I won't translate but suffice to say, it
definitely isn't something nice. Not only this, but there were people in the road, several different times, that would try to stop me, and the cars. One time it was kids, that as I approached them, got in my way. I stopped, and when I laughed and tried to take a picture of them, they nearly accosted me, trying to open my bags and touching my gear... I was out of there. Another time, I saw people with rope across the road, that they would hold up to stop cars, I couldn't believe it. (The day I was riding to Tulum, I had some young kids (about high school age) that were walking on the street (there was ample room on the sidewalk), towards my direction. I wasn't going to have something like before happen, so I pedaled on, put my head down and thought "come on". (Like the on-coming cars that pass directly next to me, and sometimes in my lane, they want to play chicken, I just put my head down and let them decide).
Getting to Palenque and seeing the ruins was awesome. Before I arrived, dropping down out of the mountains back to around sea level, I was back in the humidity. Did somebody once describe humidity as soup, it seems pretty accurat?. The air is so saturated that the moisture collects on the leaves, and drips from the trees onto the road. This day I've never seen humidity this high, either it must have rained recently, or the humidity was just that high. There were no clouds, but I could feel the moisture in the air. I would breathe and my chest would feel heavy, and the few remaining hills I had through the last couple days, I sweated intensely and cussed thoroughly.
When I arrived, I had to stop in town, and for the third time, have my headset on my handlebars checked and tightened - how annoying. The ruins are all mapped out, and it was thrilling to be able to climb on some of them, and even inside one of them. It's crazy to think that people lived there, thousands of years previous, in the most simplest of ways. Just as I was checking out the last ruin, and about to head down to get back on my bike, I had a brilliant surprise.
Suddenly I see Karl and Gweynn, two travelers I met way back in Pascuales, about two months previous. We were stunned at the coincidence. They told me they were staying just down the hill at a spot near the jungle with palapas and invited me. Of course I agreed (I was planning on trying to ride out of the city to get some progress, but figured an early morning start would be fine. Plus a chance encounter like this is far too uncommon). So I took the small van back down the hill, got my bike (I had left it at a plaza/store, where the woman was so kind enough to keep an eye on my bike/gear. I tried to give her some money when I got back, but she wouldn't accept anything), and met Karl and Gwenynn at their place. Together we had a marvelous evening, had a beer and some dinner, then played cards late into the night with a lot of laughs.
In the morning, we said a hasty goodbye, I had to get on the road, and they had a full day of sight seeing and errands to do. I left the city, reached the connecting highway after doing 30km in no time at all. With minor hills, and sometimes a slight headwind. I made quick progress, and the km's ticked by.
The next week was a blur of long days on the bike. First entering the flats, for a while I would think "why am I riding to the Yucatan again?" There was little interesting to see, for days at a time. I had several, consecutive days, over 100km (~130km). There were a couple days, where the road was so flat, so smooth, and so straight for so long - it was bliss. Instead, I had to adjust now to a different form of riding. There was light traffic, and my mind was racing. With little stimuli and such a different change in riding, I had to work to think of things to... think, and occupy my mind.
Closing in to Campeche, and Merida, the standing water I had seen disappeared, and I had some rolling hills (sometimes the worst) with interesting looking rocks (limestone) next to the road. Before getting to Campeche, rain started late in the day, that drenched me. This trend continued for a week, where late in the day, a thunderstorm would pass over, and flood me and the road.
I looked on warmshowers, and saw there was one host in the Merida. I figured since I was making such a detour out to the peninsula, I had to try and see something (even with the little time I have). Ken and Erin invited me to stay with them. I arrived in town a bit early as planned, so it gave me some time to bike around downtown (very congested with cars, like all the bigger cities). I met them at their house, and they were incredibly welcoming. They had a few guests over when I arrived, we all talked for a while. After they left, Ken explained the "rules", that I could basically eat whatever I wanted in the kitchen, use the internet, watch movies on a big TV. He showed me my room, that had a huge bed, it's own bathroom to it even. I ended up taking a day off there, and thoroughly enjoyed relaxing. I checked my calendar, and had actually made up some time riding so hard. I stretched good, ate, watched a movie. I got to do laundry, most importantly they had a front loading washer and I could wash my sleeping bag that had become TERRIBLY stinky... so bad. It was quite a relaxing stay.
It took me three days to get to Cozumel, with headwinds everyday, and plenty of rain. The last two days, I had two 130km days. The second, after stopping at a cenote and making a good detour (and fixing two flats that day), I arrived in Valladolid just as it was getting dark. I stopped just out of town and checked my map. I figured that if I rode another 30km (in the dark), then I could get to Cozumel the following day with another 30km. So I strapped on my bike light, and took off for Chemax. It was nice riding in the night, it was cool, with less cars. The stars were out, and I could see a thunderstorm in the distance that would occasionally light up (this storm moved in when I found camp that night and rained hard, had to cook dinner in a down pour in the trees).
The following day I reached Tulum around the peak heat of the day, and turned North towards Playa Del Carmen. I was really looking forward to taking a long break, and tried to find a place to treat myself for once to some tacos, but I couldn't find anything. It's a four lane freeway with loads of tourists in buses and cars. So I just kept riding, and stopped briefly at a entrance to a hotel where the guys out front were kind enough to give me water, and even a few bananas. I was pressing it in the last stretch to Playa, as light was fading, and it was a good thing I did.
I saw a sign for a marina, and stopped to ask if it was the ferry to Cozumel (I didn't see any signs indicating it was the ferry). The security guards told me it was actually, but they were already done for the day. They said the last one was leaving in like 5 minutes. After riding hard, to get to Cozumel, I was not going to give up that easily. I raced down the dirt road to the office just before the dock. I could hear the engine running from the ferry behind the trees. I went into the office, explained real quick about my trip and how hard and how far I just rode, and was really looking forward to getting to the island. I barely said much before a couple of the guys were already getting me to the cashier to pay. He only charged me 60 pesos for me and my bike, and directed me down to the boats. They already had the gates closed, had to reopen one for me to pass. They were loading up the last of the cars still, and after stowing my bike on the boat, getting to topside, we were underway within about 15 minutes.
I relaxed with a cold coke in my hand, watched the sun set over the water and could see the lights of Cozumel in the distance. For once it seemed, my luck had changed.
Getting to the island, the first thing I noticed was the water. From the lights of the boat, I could see the ocean, and it had a brilliant light blue color and was so incredibly clear. I was laughing at how awesome it was and was really excited to get diving. I didn't have a chance to inform Simone (guy I was to be staying with that I was introduced to from another cyclist I met in GDL), and called him. He didn't sound disturbed at all, and told me to meet him at the restaurant he was at with friends. When I arrived, the three of them greeted me like an old friend, and were quite pleasant to speak to. They bought me a beer and some pizza, and told me congratulations about my trip - the first time I've heard that.
We went back to Simone's and he showed me my apartment I was to be staying at, all to myself, how cool. He's a dive instructor, and takes people diving everyday. We had already talked about diving, and I had mentioned how I was hoping to go. He didn't waste any time and asked me if I wanted to go the following morning, and I figured "why wait?"
In the morning we were down at the docks, and on the boat in no time. We did two dives, both about 60ft, in the most brilliantly colored ocean I've seen. The water is so warm, even at 60ft, I didn't need a wetsuit. The water is so clear, you can see the bottom as we were descending. (There were even snorkelers from our boat that could see stuff we were looking at). We saw quite a few turtles, reefs, went through crevices in the rocks. The second dive we saw 3 nurse sharks, a stingray, turtles, and even a octopus at the end. He only charged me half price of the dive, just to cover the expenses of my part.
I ended up taking 3 instead of 2 days off here, and it was thoroughly needed. Simone dives everyday, but in the evenings we hang out. He's married with three kids, but they're in DF right now (distrito federal, or mexico city), so it's just him and I. He's a real nice guy, and helped try to negotiate to get my packages with a lower price. He's of Italian descent, but speaks French, English, Spanish, and Italian. He moved to Cozumel about 25 years ago, gave it all up in Italy and wanted to do what he loves - diving. He's been diving everyday since, and loves going to work everyday.
The second day I rested, and today I've been busy all day. I had to fix a few things on my gear, try out the new tent, and new tent poles, clean my panniers (one of my bags that has my stove, smelled terrible, and recently I ate some cookies I had in my bag that even tasted like gas). I didn't get to see as much of Cozumel as I would have hoped, but that's like all the places I go to, only a brief glimpse, and off I go. There are turtles that are starting to lay their eggs you can go see at night. I barely got to see the downtown area, but I've been biking around the island quite a bit and have a good feel for what it's like. There are more mopeds here than there are cars. It's more hot, probably because of the proximity to the other islands and just the Caribbean heat drifting over. Tomorrow I'm leaving, back on the ferry, and south to Belize. Hopefully it will only take 3 days. Then I can get back to having less pressure riding.
Some Thoughts While Riding:
If I were to cumulatively add up all of the elevation gain in my trip, I would probably have one hell of a view of Earth.
The short up and down parts are what I dread most. Give me a long pass to climb, and I'll climb all day. A long climb always has a promise of a view, and potentially a fun downhill. I can look and see that I've made progress. When I have short, steep, constantly changing hills, it drives me nuts. I have to constantly change gears, and it breaks my rhythm.
A lot of Southern Mexico, I see men walking along the roads carrying machetes. They're going to collect firewood, or cut grass, but it's still an intimidating sight.
People ask me why I'm doing my trip, and I want to say (sometimes do), "what else was I going to do?"
Recently lots ask me, "why by bike?" I don't really have an answer at first and have to think about it.
They say that warm, humid air is ideal to breathe. It sure doesn't feel like when I'm struggling to breathe up hills. Just the same they say that warm water is ideal to drink, so it's easily absorbed in the body. When my bottles are cooking in the cages on my bike, and I try to drink from them, it makes me want to drink less.
Folks these days take lots of pictures of me. Occasionally I get people that want to take a picture with me.
It's so tough for me, because of all the stuff I have to deal with, but courtesy pays. When I reached Escarcega, I saw a Burger King with a sign for 10 peso ice cream cones - too good to pass up. Relaxing inside with the air conditioning, with tasty ice cream, I was put at ease. A guy struck up a conversation, and I calmly answered all the routine questions. For once, someone had waited until I was comfortable (I could feel his, and everyone elses like usual, eyes on me and my bike). After I had sat down, he politely started asking. After they left, I continued studying my map, when he came back in to give me $200 pesos, to help me on my trip. What a nice guy. I bought myself a proper lunch after that. Fat and happy I got back on the bike.
There is very little air traffic in Mexico. Passing the touristy places like Zihuatenejo or Acapulco, I saw and heard lots of jets. Near Huatulco, I saw the unfamiliar sight of a 737 on upwind takeoff, turbines spooling up. I though, "woahhh" for a moment.
People in Mexico never understand why I would want to camp alone, or camp in general. Sometimes where I'm camping, people will happen by where I'm camped in the morning, as they go collect wood, and I'm eating breakfast and packing up. Sometimes we chat for a bit, and they always tell me about the nearby town, that I don't have to camp there.
I always look at maps and see destinations in the future and think, "ehh, it's not that far". Then I'll have headwinds, hills, rough roads. If you ever want to appreciate distances, try biking across them. You'll remember every stretch of the road.
It's strange changing directions for a lengthy amount of time. The first was when I started the trip, leaving Seward and going North to Anchorage. Then for another week or two, going North-East to Tok. I had this feeling again going North through the peninsula, and had some flashbacks having the sun set to my left side. It reminded me of the day I left Anchorage, and watched the sunset to my left. I'll head North for a significant amount of time again, on the way to end my trip, going to Brasil. I was even looking at latitudes, and right now I'm actually back on the same latitude as Guadalajara. Interesting.
Se el cambio que deseas ver en el mundo
It really pisses me off when people are touching my bike and gear. The day I finished my blog in Puerto, some kid was touching my bike and it fell over. It's definitely more of a Mexican thing. I want to tell them "I don't go touching your car, why do you feel the need to mess with mine?" They always want to honk my air horn that I have for emergencies, and I always have to tell them "that's for emergencies".
Lots of times I forget this is a "vacation", with all the crap that happens at times. Have to force myself to stop and take pictures, and enjoy the sights sometimes.
Riding down here is so different than up North. There was a lot less people, cooler riding, I had to carry more food though, and had some real cold times. Here, it's so god damn hot, there are lots more people, and the interactions and everything else is totally different.
Tire shops and gas stations, I have to deal with explaining to the people "no my tires aren't going to explode". They don't have any idea how many times I've put air in my tires. I ask them what the maximum pressure is (since most times they don't have a pressure gauge, or it's broken) and instead of telling me, they just say the tires are going to explode.
People are always yelling out stuff at me, from rude things, to just "HEY!" being screamed at me. I would prefer it if they just let me be, and let me do my thing.
It's interesting seeing the differences between the states. Oaxaca and Guerrero there were very dark people with some kind of island influence. The first town I got to in Chiapas, I could see some people with the large noses that are portrayed of the area.
I always pass inviting houses, with clean clothes and towels hanging on clothes lines in the sun to dry, blowing in the wind. People sit peacefully in the shade, in a comfortable chair, watching me pass, cool drink in hand.
Rules To Cycle Traveling (more to come)
Do not fight the wind, you will always lose. Only go at a speed at which it allows.
Do not consider route advice from ANYONE that has not ridden the road(s) themselves on a bike.
Kilometers ridden so far: 13, 612.5
