Hedge Hugging in Mexico

Mexico! I was in Mexico!

[We won't go into what I did "wrong" at the border crossing, which could cause a few problems when I return to the US.  Hopefully, I'll have it all sorted before then!]

I crossed and found the Migracion office, then the bank where I had to pay for the Tourist card.  Then it was off south for about 25km, to the next stop, where I got the "Permiso por la moto", or Permission to Temporarily Import a Motorcycle, in other words.  That accomplished, I was back on the road in Mexico, only 1.5 hours after I'd entered.

I had decided to go against the grain, and use the "Cuotas", the toll roads, as a means of covering distance quickly.  This it was easy to do and I could keep up a good speed for long distances.

The countryside was pretty boring, with not a lot to look at, although I could definitely smell the piggeries as I passed!  There were lots of what I thought were eagles, wheeling and gliding high above the road, with one swooping to the paddock beside the road quite near the bike for some unseen morsel.  I later found out they are actually vultures.

Some of the things first noticed are the topes, vibradores or reducio velocidads in and near each village and town through Mexico. These are speed humps, and some of them are quite vicious when hit, unexpectedly, at speed! It's better to follow a local through the towns, as they always know where the topes are hiding, and slow down accordingly.

The first night, I stayed in a "motel".  Now, motels here are a little different than those in Oz.  Here, they are mostly rented by the HOUR, with curtains or solid doors over the individual garages to maintain complete privacy! Whether this is for those conducting affairs of the heart, or just married couples seeking a little privacy away from their offspring in their often quite small, and crowded, homes, is not for me to ponder.  Luckily, the one at which I stayed had "normal" motel rooms, as well, and the hostess was most gracious, and very interested in my travels.

I managed to find a bank/ATM in the little town and experienced grocery shopping for the first time in Mexico.

Another of the things noticed is the huge number of roadkilled dogs, all along the way.  Acres and acres of glasshouses, producing some sort of crops, were everywhere. There was a considerable amount of agriculture to be seen.  Roaming horses and squillions of free range donkeys made concentration necessary, as they wandered all over, and along, the road.  But they are fairly placid, and not easily spooked by the bike.

Riding through a vast, fertile valley the next day, I was amazed at the intricate systems of furrowing, to allow irrigation of the crops, with most of the work being done by manual labourers, not by mechanical means.

I quite liked the national fuel chain, Pemex, as they almost always had areas of gardens and lawn around their stations, so it became a habit to have a short rest to ease the back pain during the intense heat in the middle of the day.  It was safe and secure in the Pemex stations, not that there were too many other places I could have done the same, anyway.

The central mountain ranges were to the east, and the coastline to the west, although I couldn't see the sea very often.

I'd not had access to the internet for 2 days, so lashed out (blowing the budget, for sure) and stayed at the Holiday Inn in Mazatlan, as I knew they'd speak a little English and would have wireless internet in their rooms.  The room was superb, with the balcony looking out over the large pool to the breakers rolling in to the beach from the Pacific ocean.

I'd not really had a conversation in English for some days, so it was good to meet, at a Rosarita fuel station, a Canadian couple, Carol and Bazza, from Vancouver, touring in their pickup.  We chatted for quite some time. then went our ways again.  Fuel stations were where most of my Spanish "chats" happened.  A couple of schoolgirls at one stop started "chatting" and were very interested in my laminated world map, which I'd bought for that purpose - showing people where I was from and where I was going.

Riding at night in Mexico is not a good idea, due to many dangers - vehicles with no lights, people and animals wandering the roads etc, so I usually stopped for the day by about 4.30pm or so, if there was a town handy. So when the opportunity arose to stay at a hotel called "Casa Margarita" in Los Ayala, how could I not? And it was a good hotel, with the very cute daughter of the managers earning herself a little koala.

The abundant trees and foliage always interested me, and it was so frustrating to not be able to identify all the different vegetation individually.  The flowering trees were glorious, coming in all shades of many colours.  The further south I went, the more mountainous it became, but the scenery was beautiful, soaring mountains covered in rampant vegetation, flowering creepers and climbers in blazes of colour twining among the trees and understory.

Signposting is not too good down here, so I sort-of got a bit lost, going through the middle of Puerto Vallata, but eventually the main road will reappear again, sometimes in surprising fashion. The streets through PV are generally of rough cobbles, with "rough" being the operative word here! It was difficult concentrating on where I was supposed to be going when my back was KILLING me, as it did most middays.  Also, PV was full of tourists, roaming all over the streets.

By the time I'd arrived in Manzanillo, it was almost dark, and I was looking for a hotel.  I'd gone past the sign in each direction but had not been able to turn.  So back I went and stopped in the centre of the intersection.  The traffic policeman signalled me to go straight ahead.  I'm vigorously shaking my head.  "No, Senor, Hotel Hotel!! jabbing my finger towards the sign, so he reluctantly held the traffic and let me through.  "Mucho gracias" became a common saying on my part at times like these! The hotel in question, Hotel Bahai, was a real gem - cheap; clean; undercover secure parking "por la moto"; wireless internet in the room; and only 2 blocks from the main shopping/banking area.  So I called a rest day, and caught up on a few necessary things.

Tasmania has some great riding roads.  So does the south west of Mexico, along Highway 200.  I had a GREAT day riding from Placida to Zihautanenjo.  So good that I scraped BOTH feet, only minutes apart, something I'd never done on the 650 before. Not that I was going silly, or anything, but I was just having one of those days when everything "clicks" and is perfect. Little or no traffic at all, a good road surface with endless twists and turns for mile after mile after mile - about 100km in all.  Quite a few pigs and donkeys on or near the road, but these can be avoided.

It was frustrating to be riding through such wonderfully scenic country, and not be able to stop to take photos, as there was simply nowhere safe to stop.  The vegetation along the roads came to the edge of the pavement, and was trimmed, hedge fashion, into a wall, through which it was, generally, impossible to see. Almost a tunnel effect, as the trees joined overhead in some places, cooling things down a bit, altho being higher up in the mountains, it was considerably cooler than along the coast, anyway. There were so many glimpses of stunning views, but I just could not safely stop to take photos, which explains the lack of good pics for this section.   It was necessary to really hug the edge of the road, just in case a vehicle was coming the other way through some of the tight, narrow corners on the mountainous two lane roads.

Zihautanenjo was interesting, and I wandered around the town quite a bit, waiting for the airconditioning to come on (time restricted) at 9pm.  The towns seem to come alive as the sun sets, and the shops are usually open until about 10pm, from what I've seen. Families stroll the crowded sidewalks, with food vendors setting up their little stalls wherever they can.  Fast food personified, for sure!  Although, unlike in Norte Americana, there were very few overweight people to be seen.

Banana plantations became the norm, with date palms and other fruit trees in vast plantations once down out of the mountains.  Many acres of vegetables were planted, some already being harvested, by manual labor, of course.

The road to Acapulco: another great twisting mountain road, similar to the previous day's, again with little or no traffic.  I decided to go around Acapulco, as it was the middle of the day, and my back was aching, so away  I went, only to come to a toll booth:  "Ometepec, Senor?" says I, pointing straight ahead. A slight smile and a headshake.  "No, no" pointing back the way I'd come.  Oops!  They stopped the traffic and let me turn around, then directed me onto the right road.  Ahhhh well, these things happen, sometimes frequently, but people are generally nice and helpful to the "dumb female tourist".

At least I managed to stop for a couple photos just south of Acapulco, although it wasn't the most scenic spot I'd seen that day.  Also, this was the day of my first Military Checkpoint stoppage. They just wanted to look into my panniers, so I opened my "clothing" one, the one with the bra sitting on the top!  They were satisfied I wasn't running drugs or whatever, and passed me through quickly. I think it's more curiosity than any real "checking" procedure. The very next day, I was stopped twice by the military - once for an ID check, and another "inspection".

I just missed the first snake I'd seen in Mexico, as its silver form slithered across the road towards me. Pigs, dogs, horses, donkeys and cattle were often on the roads down here.

I was nearing the border of Mexico and Guatemala.  I'd stayed overnight at Salina Cruz, and headed out for Tapachula, near the border crossing.  But it was a real howling gale, dangerous in that I was almost blown off the road several times.  Had there been anywhere to shelter, I would have stopped and done so.  So I stopped in the next town for brekky, then left, inadvertently taking the wrong road for 45 km, until the toll booth operator pointed me back the way I'd come.  Oh, no, not again!!  I discovered I'd somehow lost my reading glasses between the brekky stop and here, so had to dig deep to find my spare pair.  Back I went to the brekky stop.  Nope, the staff couldn't understand what I meant about glasses, and there was nothing in the Lonely Planet phrasebook for them, so I just gave up on them, and accepted that they were lost forever.  Bugger!  Also, just as I'd almost arrived at the brekky stop the first time, a bee had flown into the gap between my glove and the cuff of my jacket and stung me. My whole forearm started to ache and swell, which combined with the wind and the heat, made me an unhappy little body for quite a while.  It was to be about 6 days before the bee-sting subsided to a status of rarely itching or aching.  Thank goodness for TeaTree and Lavender oils, liberally applied several times a day!

For a number of kilometres, I'd shared the road with a young guy on a (little) bike, swinging through the mountains together.  I was surprised at how well the little bike handled it, too.  It was only when I went over 90kph that I started to pull away from him.  Most of the bikes here are less than 250cc, often only 125cc, Japanese, generally.  That was a fun part of the day.  A large Brahma bull on the very edge of the pavement gave cause for concern, but he merely blinked and resumed feeding as I went by, and I watched amazed as a very young foal trotted placidly along the road behind its mother, who was being ridden two-up by a man and boy.

My second border crossing was about to happen - and how!