Into Guatemala

After almost three weeks in Guatemala I can write a bit about how I got here.
Upon leaving San Cristobal de las Casas where I have entered year 2016 (I actually slept over midnight, but subsequently woke up in to a bright and sunny morning) I spent a rainy day on the road, something that did not happen to me in a while. In the evening I was rewarded with a hot shower at the fire station in Comitan where I was also offered a roof over my head.
The more I was getting closer to Guatemala, the more a sense of unease was growing in me. I could hardly describe it as fear, more some sort of anxiety. It’s not that I’m not used to go from one country to another, it’s just that in Mexico I have spent three and a half months and in this time I somehow managed to “domesticate myself” there. By this I mean I go used to functioning in this Spanish speaking country. I knew what kind of an offer I can expect in a small, village store, which cigarettes are the cheapest, above all I knew where to get drinkable water without going bankrupt. Tap water is not drinkable and bottled water costs 0,8 EUR for a litre and a half. And since, if I would have been buying bottled water, considering the prices and the amount I consume, I would have gone bankrupt, in Mexico I have used so called “purificadoras”. These are water purification plants where they fill (and sell) 20-litre tanks. Since a 20-litre tank is at least clumsy (to put it mildly) to have it on your bicycle not to mention that it weighs 20 kg, I have opted for a bit different approach. Once locating a purificadora (which can be found in the smallest of towns) I had asked an employee I they can fill up my water bottles and a nice 6-litre water bag. In most cases the guys (and girls) did it for free for which I am grateful to them.
What I want to say is, Mexico I knew, Guatemala was that big unknown that laid ahead. And the more I was getting closer to Guatemala, the more I became aware of this fact. And at the same time it was this discovering of the unknown that was luring me forward even if it meant crossing into Guatemala.
Last night in Mexcio I spent camping near a gas station. The morning was sunny and was just calling to get on the bike and go. So I mounted Lou and I went being more and more attracted to the unknown. Last town in Mexico was Ciudad Cuauhtemoc (one of many with this name in Mexico). For the last time I paid a visit to a purificadora to stock up on water (after all ahead of me is the unknown) before almost cycling past by an immigration check point. For those of you who haven’t crossed a border in these parts of the world, let me explain. The logic, that says that there will be a gate at the border which will stop you and at the same time inform you that it is time to behave nice and to get a so important stamp in your passport, does not work here. Border post is a building by the side of the road and you should know that it’s there (well in all honesty, it did had a word “immigration” written, for those illiterate amongst us) and that you should stop and pay them a visit. Not over thrilled or busy officer looks at my passport, stamps it and that’s it. I have officially left Mexico even thou there’s another 4 km of going uphill to the actual border. Along the way I pass a huge dumpsite. Must be a way of handling your garbage. You just simply toss it to your neighbour.
There is a small town just before the border. A whole rainbow spectrum of colours appears accompanied by a cacophony of sounds and smells. To the left and right of me there are stands and little shops sell all imaginable goods. From cheap plastic toys, to hats and clothes with some food to be found in between. The bustle and hustle is penetrated by tuk-tuks making their way through adding their immodest contribution to the chaos. To top it all up, occasionally there is a car or two. The people are simply everywhere. Some of them buying, others selling, some of us just passing through. What the rest of them is doing I don’t know. These kind of border towns always give me the creep. The fact is they are a safe haven for all sorts of characters.
While making my way through all this I notice by the side of the road a big iron sliding gate. At other hours of the day the serve as a barrier (who would have thought) to close the border. So in front of me should be Guatemala. This suspicion of mine is confirmed by the sign above the road saying “Benvenidos a Guatemala!” Now again I have to locate a small house that would have “Immigration” (or “Immigracion” since here they also speak Spanish). It is located behind a row of minibuses, somewhat hidden you might say. Not really big, more like a newsstand. Somewhere by the side of it I park Lou and I enter. A counter and three desks behind it with an officer at each one. There is about 10 of us waiting at the counter. One of the officers reluctantly gets up from behind his desk and takes our passports. A while later I see him browsing feverously through one of them. This one must be mine. For all of you out there reading this and not owning a passport that states Republic of Slovenia or some other exotic little country, let me just say that for us, owning such a document, a confused border officer browsing through your little book and at the same time tries to figure it out if this is not perhaps a gym membership card, is not such an uncommon sight. Anyhow, after he has gone through my passport once, he goes again and while going through it for the third time, sweat drops start to emerge on his forehead from all the effort. After the third attempt he gives up and walks to another officer. Now two (out of three) are jointly browsing my passport. The other officer is a bit more resourceful and after the second browse starts to look around for the owner (that’s me) of this strange little book. When he sees me, he gets up from behind his desk and approaches me. Then he asks me when did I get into Guatemala. Now it’s my turn to be surprised. The exoticness of my little book is not a problem at all. Somewhat confused I reply that I just left Mexico and would like to enter Guatemala now. After we locate that all important Mexican exit stamp, the officer returns to the first colleague and passes me over back to him for further “processing”. It seems the first guy still did not manage to recover from the stress so just in case he goes through my passport twice before he stamps another stamp in it. There you go, I officially entered Guatemala.
This side of the border is just like the Mexican side. Chaotic and full of hustle. Oh, and yes, they of course speak Spanish here as well. I find myself a nice little, relatively quiet spot to regroup and have a snack. Afterwards as fast as I can away from the border. Did I mention that I do not like border towns?!
The road takes me pass by many villages and isolated houses. Also here, the people by the roadside greet me. I would even dare to say that more often than in Mexico. People on this side are no different. Border is just a virtual line that only administratively divides one are from the other. We people are the same all over the World. In good and in bad!
The nights catches up with me at a coffee and honey warehouse of the local coop. This must be a promise land!
The night guard, Martin agrees to host me for the night. But I’m not allowed to wander alone in the warehouse. For their own good since this way they managed to perserve the stock untouched.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Selfservice Purificadora

Benvenidos a Guatemala

Guatemala Highlands Countryside

Just Walking

Lago Atitlan

This Is How the Roads Make Sure I Wash Regularly

Martin and Me

The Uncontrollable Urge to Overtake

Travelling with a bicycle is necessarily associated with spending a good portion of the time on the road. I will not go as far as stating that from early morning since I’m not what you would call an early bird, until late evening since I prefer to find a spot to sleep while there is still daylight so I’m able to see where I’ll sleep. Nevertheless a good portion of the day I do spend on the road. And on the road I’m not alone. True, sometimes I do get company from animals (mostly as road kill, but there are exemptions), but company (uninvited) of living creatures normally comes in a shape of drivers. Drivers of cars, buses, trucks and all that comes in between. So far I came across Canadian, US, Mexican and Guatemalan drivers.
Generally I could say there is no really substantial difference between them. All of them generally sit behind the wheel of means of transportation of their choice wanting to go from point A to point B alive and kicking. The trick is in the details.
One of the main difference is in the type of transportation they are driving. Truck drivers are professionals. They do know how to handle their machine whether that might be the latest technical wonder or a bunch of metal held together by the stickiness of the black exhaust fumes. They will try to avoid me by as much as they can. Just the sheer size of their vehicle gives them a great chance of survival in a potential head on collision when overtaking me on a blind curve.
The next category are the bus drivers. Here I must add that there weren’t as many in the north (probably because a greater number of people has their own car or two) as they are here in the south. Here they come in all shapes, sizes and ages. From modern, huge Mercedes to mini bus which is just another word for a van. What their drivers have in common is that they are in a rush to get to their destination while at the same time they must frequently stop for passengers to get on and off. Not sure about what is the psychological factor in these drivers, but they seem to be just too eager to whoosh pass by me at a distance I would definitely not call a safe one. Maybe the trick is in the fact that they generally strive to drive by/stop as close as they can to a waiting passenger/person so that this person does not have to cover a large distance to the bus. Hence this person gets to the bus faster and the bus can move on faster and all together make it faster to their goal. It’s just that I’m not waiting for the bus and so there is no need for them to come so close. Who knows?!
The last category I’m going to mention are cars of different sizes (I will not drag this for more than necessary and go into different subcategories based on the car size) and their drivers. These are obviously the most numerous and diverse. From the kind that will, when they catch up with me, slow down and if this is just before a blind curve, wait for an opportunity to safely pass me by. To the kind that will; without reducing their speed, go and overtake me on a blind curve or will on a narrow two lane go and overtake a car that is overtaking me.
Just to make it clear in all three groups there are exceptions. Well, to be more precise, this is valid for the first two groups since, as I have already stated, car drivers are diverse.
Just to point out, once in Mexico I had to go off of the road since I was not sure that the truck driver will stop without hitting me first. He was being overtaken by another truck that might have gone 5 km/h faster than the first one and all this on a narrow two lane road. Or there were occasions when a bus driver, contrary to all my expectations, slowed down before a blind curve and then slowly trailed behind me until he was able to safely overtake me. And yes, this has happened to me also here in Guatemala.
There is one interesting human attribute common to most of these drivers. A substantial number of them feel the urge to overtake me as fast as they can. And the further south I go, the more I get the feeling this urge is reaching the level where they cannot control it. When they catch up with me, they rush past by me. If there is a chance to use the other lane, they will, to different extent, use it. But sometimes there is no such option or they simply cannot be bothered to do it. And it is in these cases when I become really frightened.
Thou to some extent I have managed to adapt. It’s not exactly that I do not get scared when these crazy drivers whoosh by. The difference is that I only get really frightened when they rush by well under half a meter away from me. And as I have said, the further south I am there is more and more of these drivers who’s urge to overtake is uncontrollable. The fact that the further south I go the narrower the roads are, does not really help.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Used to be a school bus – now it’s a “chicken bus”

El unico fruto del amor es la bananaaaaa!

Tuk-tuk consultations

Bus stop

Back seat

Taking a nap

5 Day On a Bike – Puebla – Oaxaca – Part 2

Like I have announced when posting my previous post, there is going to be Part 2!

Day 4 – 64 km
Before 6h I’m woken up by the sound of sweeping. Eager guardian of cleanliness in this town is sweeping the square with a huge palm leaf. I prepare my breakfast – oat meal with bananas and coffee. At 8h I’m back on the road and would like to reach the first larger town to call my grandma. It’s her birthday and it’s only appropriate that a long lost grandchild gives her a call from the backwaters of Mexico.
First I pass a small village where a man by the side of the road informs me that I have another hour, hour and a half of cycling until the next (and for a while the only) larger town. Good enough reason for me to pull over at the next roadside restaurant for a “café de olla” (weak coffee with cinnamon and sugar). Continuation of the journey shows me that locals are not always to be trusted. This time the man made an error to my advantage since I reach the large town sooner than in a hour including the coffee break.
After wishing Happy birthday to my grandma the road is calling me again. With inevitable certainty I’m approaching the “most interesting” part, climbing from around 800 meters above sea level to almost 2.400 meters. This is going to be fun 😦 (as you might have guessed I’m not one of those masochistic climb lovers).
The problem of tackling these kind of climbs is that once you start tackling the uphill normally there is a sharp decline of camping options since normally there is a wall on one side and a sheer drop on the other. In any case the terrain becomes too steep to pitch your tent. That is why I normally tackle big climbs early in the morning increasing my possibilities to find some nice flat area or a village to pitch my tent. But since 1.600 meters of altitude difference is still too much to tackle in a day and since I do have more than 3 hours of daylight left I push on. I should reach the first village before darkness.
Bravely I tackle the hill and to my big surprise I actually enjoy the climb. It’s not too steep nor is it too hot and it’s not taking too much energy from me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that before the climb I munched some sweet biscuits, peanut butter sandwiches, fruits and flushed it all down with a coke. Little sugar before the challenge never hurts.
Nevertheless it almost dark when I reach the first flat surface that comes in a shape of a roadside restaurant. Give the lightness of traffic on the road, the restaurant is not too busy. I enter the room with two tables, counter and access to an outdoor fireplace where the owner, Cres is. I ask for permission to camp behind the house and after a short conversation she has with her husband, Memo they offer me to sleep in a field bed inside the restaurant. Shortly after I have stopped, the sugar rush seemed to pass and I gladly accept the offer to sleep without having to pitch my tent. The fact that I was also treated to a tasty, hot dinner accompanied by the sound of generator since there is no electricity here and that I was able to take a warm shower by the help of a ladle only shows you another example of the Mexican generosity I’m receiving along the way.

Day 5 – 50 km
Awaken by the sound of humping outside. Supply delivery. Memo goes out to receive the goods, I follow shortly. Another cloudy day and the sight of the road climbing higher and higher in the distance catches my eye. That is what awaits me today. As opposed to yesterday, there is no excitement about moving on. I linger around for a late breakfast before gathering the courage to move on. It’s not the only, but moving on and tackling the climb is surely the most obvious way to make it to Oaxaca and the well-deserved rest, so here I go. The hours seem to drag and behind every curve that I conquer, there is another one and this one also demands a climb.
Somewhere among these endless climbs I stop at a closed roadside restaurant. While treating myself to a short brake and a cigarette I notice there is someone in the restaurant. Through a grid that doubles as a wall I strike up a conversation with Fernando, a 20 something guy that occasionally lives here with his grandma. He offers me coffee and I happily accept the offer. Over a short chat and a coffee next to it I manage to somewhat lift my spirit before I continue.
I keep on climbing almost until 15h when, initially a bit shy, the descend begins and the sun comes out. It’s warmer on this side of the mountains.
Shortly before 17h I reach the town of San Francisco Telixtlahuaca where I stop at eh first store that I notice. I do have to buy some provisions for dinner and ask where I can find water. An elderly man, Elmer stops me at the doorstep and soon we come to a conclusion that I can sleep in a currently closed restaurant next to the store. Since the restaurant is of somewhat open type (palm leaf covered roof and walls made of bamboo) I still pitch my tent. I cook some pasta on the stove, drink a coffee and fall asleep.

Day 6 – 49 km
Yes, contrary to my expectations that I will manage to cover the distance to Oaxaca in 5 days, day 6 also finds me waking up in a tent. Today I have another good 40 km in front of me so I take it easy. I wait for Elmer to come to open the store so that I can properly say goodbye and then hit the road.
The more I come close to Oaxaca, the more the traffic becomes heavier and the surroundings more built up. Before noon I stop in a cyber café and using Warmshowers I manage to find a host in Oaxaca. Jason and Dina generously accept my request.
Cycling through the city calls for some acrobatics when avoiding traffic and especially buses which stop where they feel like it paying no attention at all to the fact that they might be cutting you off. But I’m getting used to this thou still I do not like it (let alone enjoy it).
Little more cycling uphill and wandering through a maze of streets without name and here I am at my Oaxacan hosts. I make myself coffee and treat myself to a nice, hot shower.
Life is Good!

Having a Break

Outside the Window

Cafe de olla y pan dulce 🙂

Gas station

Hills of Oaxaca

Making Tortillas

Beans Cooking Outside

Small Thin Line Leading Uphill

Finally On the Other Side

Camping in a Restaurant

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

5 Day On a Bike – Puebla – Oaxaca – Part 1

I have started to write this post more than a week ago which makes it appropriately long (will be published in 2 parts).

My journey south continues. Not really on the most direct line but generally I’m sticking to the right direction. After cycling past the volcanoes of central Mexico I have stopped for a day in Puebla in the shadow of a still puffing Popo (Popocatepetl). Enjoying the hospitality of Mariana and Jose (Warmshowers hosts) I managed to relax for a while before continuing to Oaxaca. Google maps informed me that there is approx. 370 km in front of me which I have transformed into 5 days of cycling. Here is a short summary of this route.

Day 1 – 42 km
Saying goodbye to friendly hosts is always hard and it does not get easier with time and encountering different people. This meant that I have left the apartment of my host only at around 11h and then spent another hour and a half “talking” to Lou and his front wheel in the garage (the content of these “talks” is not confidential, but it’s more appropriate for a few lines from the Simon’s Brightest series, so I’ll keep it for there). Getting out of a city can be stressful and this time around was no exception. Lots of traffic on sometimes too narrow streets. The worst kind of drivers comes in the shape of bus drivers who continuously cut you off and are completely ignorant to whether you will be able to stop in time or not.
Given the fact that the route into the city was a gentle downhill, I was well aware of the fact that the route out will be uphill. With some stops I managed to do it.
My progress at the end of the day reflected all of the above mentioned and the odometer stopped at 42 km. Since I was not keen on camping, I headed towards the firefighters in the town of Tepeaca. Here in the state of Puebla the firefighters (as well as the ambulance) live under the same roof as the state police. This meant I had to go to the police since they are in charge of the security of the station and ask them if I can camp there. Friendly policemen first took my data and insisted on verifying that there was no tank hidden in my bags and then they let me camp on their driveway. Concrete floor are not he most ideal place for camping, but it’s doable. I was especially glad of this fact the next morning when the tent was dry, no condensation inside.
While preparing to set up my tent, a policeman approaches me and starts a conversation that leads to him offering me dinner. Tacos, this is Mexico after all. Accepting the offer I eat my way through some tasty goat tacos.
After dinner comes setting up my tent and a quick wash at the toilet before snuggling into my sleeping bag and writing my diary. Outside there is a pack of dogs barking. One of them is especially loud but after my intervention when I go out of the tent and chase them away, all becomes quiet again. The night passes without incidents.

Day 2 – 114 km
The morning is cold, but having my tent on a concrete means no condensation for which I am glad. Morning ritual encompasses cleaning up my tent (sleeping bag and similar) and then taking down the tent. I cook my breakfast at the police and say goodbye to them a bit after 8h. The sun is strong enough so that I can cycle in short sleeves. After a short climb the road starts to descend. A nice 4 lane with a shoulder is soon interrupted with a sign roadwork. This in Mexico can mean several things from “no pasa nada” (a sign that was forgotten or they have forgotten to start working) to gravel road and a construction site. Well in this case it was the latter. Tarmac gives way to gravel and after a few km when tarmac reappears, I’m well shaken.
The road slowly turns into a gentle descend which with a few interruptions follows me for the rest of the day.
At one point I manage to merge with a group of 100 or so cyclists whom turn out to be pilgrims. Not to talkative bunch of people so we all turn our pedals in silence. At least until the first climb when they run away. They are not cycling on a fully loaded bicycles.
In a town of Tlacotepec I stop on a bench in the main square. It’s time to treat myself to some peanut butter sandwiches whilst listening to “Feliz Navidad” coming from a loudspeaker from a nearby stand.
The rest of the day I’m accompanied by headwind which I have not invited. Since I’m still descending by the end of the day I manage to pass 100 km mark. My second time in Mexico!
Before stopping for the night I do have a close encounter with the tarmac. In some small town there is a speed bump across the road (they are very popular in Mexico) whilst the shoulder is without it. But there are some descend sized stones on the shoulder intended to prevent cars from bypassing the speed bump. But they are intended for car, not for bicycles, right? And so typically – is the gap between the rocks wide enough for my loaded bicycle? Sure it is! – Well, it wasn’t. My right front pannier hit a rock and what followed was a short but passionate and dynamical tango by Lou and yours truly. It ended up way less spectacularly with a fall into the only puddle for miles. My first fall on this trip!
Evening finds me pitching my tent next to a football field adjacent to a gas station.

Day 3 – 64 km
Day 200 of the trip. Morning is cloudy and it does look like it is going to rain, but it doesn’t. I load up Lou and pay a quick visit to the toilet before hitting the road. Short on water I head into the first town to look for a so called “purificadora”, filling station for purified water. Friendly employees fill up all my water bottles and a 6 litre water bag. When I want to pay they just wave me off.
The road which has already taken the shape of a shoulder less two-lane soon transforms itself into gravel. This time for a longer period that yesterday. While being tossed around on holes and bumps car and trucks pass me by leaving me in a thick dust clouds. At least I’m not hungry but for sure I’m extremely well shaken like some James Bond martini – Shaken, not stirred.
Today the first hills start to appear, but they tend to go gentle on me. More than by the hills I’m impressed by all the greenery around me. Not that central Mexico was all desert but for sure it was less and not so intensively green. Everywhere there are trees, palms and in between there are even cactuses of all size and shape.
I finish the day in the town of Santa Maria Tecomavaca where I pay a visit to a small store for some essentials (toilet paper). Since they do not stock fruits I go to the neighbour, Santiago for some bananas. After a short chat he gives me a nice bunch of bananas and some apples as well. Yet another example of Mexican generosity.
Camping under arches on the main square. I really do not feel like going out of town and look for some wild camping.

Cactuses of Different Shapes and Sizes

Hello Donkies

It’s Getting Green In Mexico

It IS Green

Little Uphill

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Firefighters

This weeks it has been half a year since I set off to live my Dreams. Half a year of life on the road, among strangers and Smiles. In this half a year I managed to somehow domesticate myself on the road. Sleeping in different place every time is an everyday occurrence, searching for a secret behind a curve is almost “routine” and a conversation with a complete stranger may it be asking for directions or a more profound conversation about Life feels so familiar.
Even if sleeping in a different place every time became an everyday occurrence, this still does not mean that I’m always eager to look for a place to pitch my tent. Sometimes I opt for a simpler option and I stop at a fire station.
Firefighters (Bomberos as they are called around here) are, judging by the information that I have received, traditionally friends of travellers, especially us that are wandering around on a bicycle. With them you can almost every time find a place to sleep. Sometimes a lawn for pitching your tent, but more often a corner inside the fire station or even a bed. Usually there is also a kitchen where you can prepare yourself something (if they do not offer you a meal as well), lots of times a shower (though not always with running water) and on some occasions even a Wifi.
On the day I have reached 6 months on the road, I found myself waking up in a bed of a fire station in a town of Ixmiquilpan. The evening before I have sheltered myself there since the night was approaching and I really did not feel like looking for a place to camp in town. I have politely asked if I could camp there and this eventually turned into an offer to sleep in a bed that I have gratefully accepted. After a whole day of pushing the pedals I was properly sweaty so I have turned my attention to locate a place where I would be able to wash myself. Behind some door there was a big room that was hiding a modest bathroom (two toilet seats and two showers). Overjoyed I prepared some fresh clothes and headed for the first shower. I turn on one handle and nothing happens. I turn on the second handle, again nothing. So I try the next shower – nothing. Little less overjoyed I walk to the firefighters and tell them that apparently there is no water. No problem comes a reply and one of them steps outside with me following close behind. With a bucket he scoops water from some sort of a holding tank and hands me a full bucket. Yes, this could work as well. And again overjoyed I go into the bathroom and as I was about to start washing myself someone knocks on the door. So I put on my clothes and I take a look at what’s going on. I was not really prepared for a question what will I use the water for but somehow I managed to compose a reasonable answer. The man replies that with the water I have might not be suitable for what I wanted to use it for. It’s “filthy”. He will give me some clean one and then he rushes outside for a new bucket just that this time around he does not fill it from the holding tank but directly from a fire truck.
Freshly washed I later lay in a bed and connect myself to their Wifi so that I can connect with the world a bit before I cover myself with a blanket and fall asleep knowing that I’m in a safe place with a roof over my head.
In the morning when I got up, there was coffee and some Mexican pastry waiting there for me.
Thank you firefighter team from Ixmiquilpan!

This however was not my only experience of spending the night with firefighters. In US I have camped twice next to a fire station and in the town of Gueydan, Louisiana the dispatcher, Kyle opened the doors of the garage where I was able to spread my sleeping bag on the floor. Afterwards he also prepared me an excellent birthday dinner for me. – Thanks Kyle!
I was hosted also by the firefighters in Aldama, Chihuahua where I turned up just before nightfall and with a thunderstorm looming, they offered me a bed with a fixed roof over my head. – Thanks team!
One night I spent also with Civil protection/Firefighters in Rodeo, Durango – Thanks Enrique & Mario!
Well soaked and well after nightfall I stopped at firefighters in Sombrerete, Zacatecas. They have also given me a warm welcome and offered a roof over my head – Thanks team!
Also firefighters in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato opened their doors for me and offered me a couch where I was able to spend the night – Thanks team!

Ixmiquilpan

San Miguel de Allende

Rodeo

Sombrerete

Aldama

Gueydan

For sure I’m very thankful to all the firefighters that have so far hosted me (as well as to all the other people that have in their way helped me in these 6 months on the road). I hope and wish that this trend will continue.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

When Even a Cigarette Does Not Taste Right

For the past two week I’m gradually but surely making my way towards the central, the most heavily populated part of Mexico. Wide, open spaces of northern deserts are making their way to more and more frequent towns with some corn fields in between. More often than corn fields are industrial plants, endless warehouses, stores, mechanical and tire shops. All in all, lots of built up areas.
The roads are getting wider, having more and more lanes with more and more cars, buses and trucks of all shapes and sizes. The noise they are producing is intrusive, omnipresent and is hard to get away from it. There are some side roads but they might turn to be more of an adrenalin experience than I’m willing to get. As a rule of thumb they do not have a shoulder, which is something you can get on a multilane and can give you a false sense of security as you normally ride it alone. And without this small strip of tarmac by the side of the road you are more exposed. And when there is a truck behind you that is being overtaken by another truck (cross the full lane, but I really do not know why I’m paying attention to this here in Mexico) for a while you hope it will slow down. Soon you realize this is not going to happen so the safest thing to do is for you to go off of the road and let them pass by.
The alternative in the form of a multilane has a narrow strip of tarmac by the side. At least for most of the time. There I can in the relative safety put the earphones in my ear and I listen to music. This way I can at least for a while escape the noise. But there is something I cannot escape from.
Yesterday I woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. Cloudless sky. After breakfast I “prepare” Lou and head out of the city. Six lane highway is packed, but I can retreat on the shoulder and listen to music. Looking at the horizon I notice a strange brown haze lurking. A thin layer of smog is covering the city and the surroundings. This is the price of all the traffic and industry. And I’m in the middle of this traffic. Right next to the truck that rush past by me in a cloud of smoke. The smoke itself is dense and filling. At noon I actually am not hungry. I think this is not really healthy. Anyhow, I lit myself a cigarette and I realize that in all this smoke even a cigarette does not taste right.
Given the fact that I have just entered the central part of Mexico I expect that days like yesterday will become more common. Also this is a part of travelling by bicycle. As well as the days when you lose yourself on some backcountry road and in the evening end up somewhere isolated and enjoying a cup of coffee and a cigarette you watch the sunset.

Bicycle lane – What a joke!

Traffic behind

Traffic in front

A spider I have shared my toillete with one morning

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

I’m One Lucky Man

This thought/feeling was present again on Saturday. I will let the photos tell the story.

Morning at the Fire Station

After I set off

Before Noon

Approaching Noon

Lunch Break

Afternoon Cigarette

Late Afternoon

Good Evening – Campsite

Message of the Next Day

I’m really one lucky man!

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Fiesta De Papas

Those of you who regularly check my progress on Where Is Simon have probably notice that my progress here in Mexico has seriously slowed down. Besides the obvious reason that I have ventured into the mountainous region where the roads are more like a roller coaster ride in an amusement park with their endless ups and downs, meanderings through the narrow river valleys or mountain ridges, there is another reason. In Creel I came in contact with Gina, an anthropologist who works, through some project, with communities of local Indians, the Tarahumaras. And Gina mentioned to me that on Sunday, October 11th there will be a fiesta in a village of Norogachi. Potato fiesta (Fiesta De Papas)!
To me this information was like an invitation to an unforgettable experience and obviously I have immediately invited myself to accompany her on her visit to the village. And since she agreed, I had to adjust the speed of my progress to the timing of this fiesta.
Since in words I can hardly describe this overflow of colours, impressions and uniqueness that have awaited me there, here I’m offering you some photos instead.

Hidden

Green

Village Shamans

What is missing from these photos are the relaxed smiles (only on this occasion I managed to Tarahumaras smile) that emerged in the later hours after there has been lots of tesguino (traditional drink made of fermented corn (and who knows what else)) drunk and also spilled. Also there are no photos of the morning after when those who have fought tesguino most zealously had to admit defeat and had found various spots around the village to sleep it over. This part of a party is the same all over the world.
Oh, and why there are no photos? Well, I did it again. I managed to pull off something typically me. I have run out of batteries for my camera!

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

A Day in a Village Store

Soon after my arrival in Creel, which is some sort of a base camp for exploring Copper Canyon, I have realized that I’m not the kind of a masochist that would, out of pure pleasure, go and descend on a gravel road 1.800m in to the valley to a town called Urique. And this descend would be only to ascend again for about the same height difference on a road that most maps don’t even show it exists. From the top the road goes down again and again for about 1.800m to a town called Batopilas. From this town, there is only one road out and yes, uphill. And since I have already mentioned twice 1.800m, I will use the same number here again. It’s not exactly accurate but you get the picture.
Instead I have decided to skip Urique and head for Batopilas on the main road. Obviously climbs and descends are not limited to the previously mentioned route. The main road has it as well, they are just not that extreme. Nor are they innocent either. On my second day out of Creel I made only 36km of progress. Average speed was around 8,5 km/h and most of the afternoon I have spent slowly climbing on a twisting and steep road leading out of a canyon of the upstream Urique river. On top (well, a bit further and to the side) is a village called Samachique which was my goal for the day. In Creel I got a contact in this village, Ruben and Monse, a couple in their early sixties. After I have asked two kind ladies for directions I found myself in front of a house not unlike any other in the village. It’s just that this one was “hiding” a store in the main room together with some sort of a communal area with two tables, some chairs and a wood-stove (after all we are at 2.000m above sea level). Quickly we managed to agree that I will stay here for the night and in the morning I will leave Lou and the rest of my gear here and head into the valley by bus.
After a two-day trip to Batopilas where I have enjoyed once again temperatures well above 20°C and indulged myself into doing nothing, I went back to pick up Lou and continue on my way.
The bus left me all wrinkled (I got up at 3:30) at the beginning of the village and after a half an hour walk through the high mountain morning chill I had arrived to the store. Ruben opened the door and Monse had made coffee and served me breakfast. Comfortably I had sat into a chair next to just lit wood-stove and arranged to stay another day here. I’m in no rush, here it’s nice and warm and I’m interested to find out how everyday life looks around here.
Little after 8 (opening hours are obviously not fixed) the store officially opens. It’s not that there is a crowd of customers outside (actually there is none), it’s just that the main doors remain unlocked and that the curtains on both windows are pulled aside. Besides the two windows, the room is lit by two energy-efficient light bulbs and a TV in the corner set to the morning show. I have no idea what it’s about.
The store is comprised of two counters and some shelves next to two walls. They are full of various goods. From toilet paper, instant noodles, fish cans, pasta to menstrual pads, toothpaste, batteries and sandals. A good portion of the room is occupied by fizzy drinks and crisps can also be found. Vegetables on offer are limited to a box of tomatoes, few onions, bag of potatoes and a bag of beans. My special status of a temporary resident enables me access to the back room, which is where my bed is, and so I know that the meet is stored in a freezer in the corner.
Slowly a few people show up in the store. It turns out that one of them is a worker laying tiles in the back room, another (member of the Tarahumaras, the famous long endurance runner Indians) is Ruben’s helper, the woman, also a Tarahumara, is Monse’s assistant. All are served coffee (Monse’s assistant serves herself one). Outside the day is slowly breaking while we’re heating ourselves next to the wood stove and the time is passing by in a gentle small talk (my basic Spanish is limiting my participation). All apart from me slowly attend to their business while I watch rare customers coming into the store. Some just for a quick purchase while others stay longer after Monse invites them for a cup of coffee. There are also two deliveries of new stock during the day. Also the delivery men are invited for a coffee and a chat.
Purchases are mainly cash only with a few exceptions. In this part of the world a cashless purchase means that Monse in her big, blue notebook writes down the amount of purchase. Buyers will pay their debt later when they will have money. Cards (debit or credit) are absolutely useless here. Not only there is no internet for POS terminals (or anything else for that matter), there is also no mobile phone network.
Monse and her assistant also take care of regular daily meals. At 11h it’s time for a second, slightly heavier breakfast, at 15h lunch is served. Around 17h it’s time for an afternoon snack. These meals are served also to some visitors like a mute Tarahumara that came into the store at around 17h. He did not buy anything but that did not stop Monse from giving him a meal.
At around 19h the flow of customers stops. It’s already dark outside. The store is still officially open but Monse is more focused on preparing dinner while watching one of the many Mexican soap operas that have been showing all day long on the TV in the corner.
Little after 10h Ruben comes back and dinner is served. After we eat and chat for a while, I go into the back room where I sneak into my sleeping bag, happy that I was able to share this day with everyone here. Happy that I have spent it in a place where a store is in the service of the community. A place where people come to chat and sip coffee, a place where people still trust each other and the storekeeper will write down your purchase for you to pay when you will have money, a place where, if you are hungry, you are fed.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

PS
Next post will have photos 🙂

¡Ah Chihuahua!

It has been six days since I have arrived Chihuahua, the capital city of the Mexican state of the same name, and here I’m now “gathering strength” to continue. After days in the desert it feel so nice to rest for a while and besides I had some errands to attend to. In US my tooth has cracked and since the dental services in US are something that a modest traveller on a bicycle can barely afford, I have delayed a visit to the dentist until I reach Mexico. Apart from that there are some standard things I have to do like laundry, writing this post, planning my next steps,…

Before entering Mexico I had to leave the US first. Mostly routine procedure with Border patrol officer checking my passport and allowing me to continue. But it would be out of my character if I would not go and complicate the situation. My passport has a stamp that allows me to stay in the US only for 3 days and this has already been the source of some complications. Since I have not seen the border patrol officer to register in the computer my departure from the States I have returned to him and pointed out that I have this stamp that only allows me 3 days. Before I have managed to ask him for an exit stamp (I do not trust the computers) the situation became somewhat complicated. I was almost registered as illegal immigrant (overstaying my visa) but for sure I was a special case. So my departure from the States was delayed for about 45 minutes. First I had to wait then I had to explain my story in a long and detailed manner and then I had to wait again. After about 45 minutes another Border patrol officer came with my passport and she said I’m free to leave the country (amazing). I think they have rather given up on me than really dug into my case and check all the facts with all the necessary parties involved. But I’m not complaining, as long as I’m free the leave the country! But before I go, I still politely ask for an exit stamp. As one might say “You never know!”

And I got it!

Entry into Mexico was different. Some small talk with the police using little Spanish that I know, paying 25 USD for a tourist permit and a stamp in my passport that allows me to stay up to 180 days in Mexico. At least I think so. After all my knowledge of Spanish is limited.
Quite quickly I have left the border town of Ojinaga. All border towns tend to be places that I do not want to linger around since they tend to be dirty and have their share of dodgy characters. In front of me there is again an empty road, the desert and soon enough mountains. Climbing these mountains unravel views into the distance and from the height I have the opportunity to watch the softness of the landscape below. Distance transforms all those roughly cut dry creek beds and rocks, bitten off by the winds, which I have not long ago cycled past, into gentle, soft wrinkles of the land below.

From a Distance

Luckily for me the day was cloudy so the temperatures were completely bearable and also the climbs, which were not that rare, have not been too hard. Still I have not managed to reach some sort of a settlement where I would be able to find a place to sleep. Before reaching Mexico, I have been advised not to rough/stealth camp since it would not be such a smart thing to do. And since I have not reached any populated settlement, I resorted to improvisation. At a military check-point I found out that my broken Spanish actually is not so bad that I would not be able to ask for permission to camp. It was a good thing since none of the soldiers spoke any English. Still we managed to communicate and so my first night in Mexico I was camping next to a military check point.

Hosts For a Night

First Camping In Mexico

The next day promised lots of emptiness and a great deal of sun. After the soldiers stocked me up with water, coffee and food for the road, I have hit the road (uphill) and cycled all day. Most of the time we did not get along well with the wind since according to a well-known, old rule it was headwind. Also the fact that it was sunny with no shade by the roadside did not really help. Nevertheless I manage to cover more than 90 km on this day.
As the end of the day was approaching I started to look for the village which, according to my map, should be just next to the main highway. Boy, was I in for an unpleasant surprise when the road workers, which were probably there just to help me, told me that the village is quite some km over the horizon away with only a small, barely distinguishable dirt road leading there. Instead of taking this dirt road in hope that there actually is a house at the end, I took the offer from the road workers to give me a lift to the next town. The ride on the back of a pick-up where with one hand I managed to hold Lou upright while with the other hand I held down all the stuff so the wind doesn’t blow it away (partially successful since I have ended up without one already torn glove) seemed surreal. Empty road through an empty landscape, wind blowing through my hair, dark, black clouds that have soon produced heavy raindrops, which have, due to the speed I was traveling with, felt like tiny needles penetrating my skin. And at the same time there was this this warm feeling of a long, hard day of cycling is coming to an end. I only had to find myself a place to sleep. And since I have ended up in a small city finding a place to pitch a tent becomes a bit larger challenge. But there are alternatives so I have headed towards the fire station where I have once again tested my Spanish skills. Apparently I can communicate since that evening I managed to sleep in a proper bed after taking a nice, relaxing and refreshing shower that washed away the dirt and tiredness of the day. And I have also managed to cook myself a dinner in their kitchen.

Aldama Firemen

Without a doubt, in Mexico I have received a warm welcome by very friendly people!

Traffic has been light so far (on the road from the border to Chihuahua only about 4-5 cars hourly on average passed me by) so this challenge still awaits me somewhere down the road.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

PS
For a while I’m saying goodbye since I’m about to go what one could say masochistic exploration of the Copper Canyon which is larger and in some cases deeper than the very much known Grand Canyon in the US.