Los Mochis, SIN

I got to Los Mochis almost two weeks ago.  After a day off hanging out around town and eating some amazing seafood at the nearby coastal town of Topolobampo with my Couchsurfing host Roberto, I got on the train that took me up into the Sierra Tarahumara.

I spent half the time getting over a cold in Creel, a town way up in the mountains.  There I met some great folks at a hostel, in particular, four Australians backpacking around Mexico.  There are many things to do in the area, but I hadn’t the energy but to go to some hot springs.

It ended up being cheaper for 5 of us to rent a 2 bedroom apartment, so we moved into our casita and enjoyed many home cooked meals and lots of poker played with cotton swabs as chips.  One night it snowed in Creel, which was  exciting, especially as some of the Australians had never seen snow.

After Creel, I made my way to the town of Urique on bus, which is at the bottom of a canyon.  The road goes downhill wit about 5,000 feet in elevation change to get there.  I stayed at a hostel that has a garden and lots of citrus trees.  Mandarins, lemons and grapefruit galore.  Tim and Anne, two of the Australians, caught up with me from Creel, and we decided to stay in Urique for a few days together.  Hikes in the valley (which really ended up being rides in the back of pickup trucks more than anything), a swim in the Urique river, and coffee roasting and tortilla making lessons were the highlights.

Yesterday we took the bus out of the canyon and the train to El Fuerte, hung out there this morning, and then made our way back to Los Mochis.  Tim and Anne will be travelling to Baja California for a while, but we hope to cross paths again, maybe in Oaxaca?

This is by far the longest time I’ve taken off the bike, 13 days so far (I haven’t taken more than 5 days off at a time, and usually no more than 2 or 3).  That I don’t have to worry about cold weather now, and that I’ve wanted to go to the Copper Canyon(s) region for years meant I decided to just take my time and be in no hurry to get back on the bike.  It was worth it and I have no regrets having put the bike trip on hold for that long.  From Los Mochis I’ll continue along the coast until Mazatlan, and then from there I’ll need to think about whether to continue along the coast or head into the Sierra again, which would most likely take me through Guadalajara.

I’ll upload pictures and tell more stories at some point.

December 9th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Empalme to Navojoa

The bed in the guest house is all springs, I get my Thermarest out and place it on top.  The floor would probably be more comfortable, but there is barely space as it is with my bike in the room.  Plus I’m a little afraid of what might be living underneath the bed.

There isn’t a towel, soap or toilet paper in the bathroom, I’m not surprised.  No worries, I pack these items anyway.  I open the door of the dilapidted dresser, and there, laid out, are two bars of Rosa Venus (standard issue soap at any Mexican hotel) on top of a towel, a roll of toilet paper made up of odds and ends from other half-used rolls, and a jug of water with a plastic glass on top.  The glass has lipstick on it.  Classy!

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November 25th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | 13 comments

Empalme, SON

The hotel in Benjami’n Hill has a gated entrance that gets closed at night.  I look around the courtyard to find the owner.  I ask him if he could please open the gate, as I’d like to run to the corner store.  ”Well” he says, “I don’t know what _ustedes_ usually eat (you guys? cyclists? gringos? bearded freckled gringo cyclists? I dare not ask him for clarification).  You can only get soda and chips there, why don’t you head into a town, go to a restaurant and buy yourself a _carne asada_, it will only cost you 40 pesos”.  I tell him “that sounds like a great idea for lunch or supper, but right now I’m just going to go buy some milk to go with the oatmeal I have back in the room”.  He shrugs his shoulders, “as you wish”, and opens the gate for me.
I’m back in one minute, the store is closed this early in the morning. I sit outside my room and eat my oatmeal.  The owner comes by and I ask him if I can take some fruit from one of the trees in the courtyard.  Apparently I’ve asked incorrectly, and he begins to lecture on how I should have asked if I could take some fruit.  He isn’t grumpy or nasty about it, but for some reason feels the need to correct me.  I don’t even get his explanation.  I guess I’m still thinking in English and translating into Spanish.
Between Benjmin Hill and Hermosillo the road is made up of many stretches that are perfectly straight for a dozen miles at a time.  I’m accustomed to riding in the mountains of the West and have come to understand the language of valleys, washes, basins, rims and passes.  This flat desert of Sonora seems monotonous and uninspired, and I have not yet learned how to appreciate biking through it.  Today I can only focus on riding in a straight line, constantly looking back in my mirror, rarely stopping for pictures.
An hour into my riding, I pass a military checkpoint for northbound traffic.  I can see trucks lined up, and begin counting them.  I give up at 100.  The truck drivers are standing around talking while their engines idle, vendors with coolers walk along selling drinks.  The line is over 3 miles long and only budges once in the time it takes me to bike by it.
I stop at a run down restaurant for quesadillas for lunch.  Later I stop at an OXXO for some junk food.  I diligently put the wrapper in an uncovered garbage can, and right then a gust of wind blows it out of the can and across the parrking lot.  There is no way I can chase it down.  I look around, trash everywhere, and feel just a little less guilty about littering.  At the next gas station there are a bunch of police that start talking to me.  One of them points to another and says, A este le gusta ir a Alaska, this guy likes to visit Alaska.  Oh, yeah it is so pretty I say, and then the punch line to the joke I didn’t realize was being set up.  A las kaguamas.
I arrive in the outskirts of Hermosillo just as the sun is setting.  This city is huge and no one uses their turn signals.  I keep on pedalling, knowing that I’ve got a CouchSurfing host waiting for me.  I make it to the McDonalds, an easy landmark, and give him a call.  A few minutes later Rodolfo shows up and we walk back to the apartment.  He just came back from a summer of working in Canada and lives with his mom and brother.  We talk for a while about our travels and whatnot.  He is getting used to being back in a huge city after months in small Canadian towns.  I can sympathize with this.  At about 8pm, he leaves to meet up with other Hermosillo Couchsurfing hosts.  I’m already yawning and get to bed early.
I’m awake at 7:30 and hang around the apartment for a while, then go to buy groceries and eat some lunch with Rodolfo.  I don’t get going until 1pm, but I know today is shorter than yesterday.  It is about 100 miles to Guaymas, the next city, too much for one day, but I know there is a gas station at a junction 55 miles away.  I have no idea what it will be like, but decide I can’t worry in the least about it.  I can’t spend my whole time in Mexico in hotels and with Couchsurfing hosts, so I might as well get used to camping once in a while.  I’ve decided that the gas station will be a safer option than pulling off the side of the busy highway.  Up until now there have been few places ideal for camping.
There is a small ridge to get over, and when I do, the air immediately feels different.  It is denser, warmer, and I think it smells like the sea.  I’m only 30 miles from the Gulf of California at this point.  I make it to the truck stop and amble around a little, trying to figure out who is in charge.  I ask one of the gas station attendants if I can camp behind the building, he says, sure.  I’m not convinced though yet.  I look around the back and see which uneven patch of littered gravel I’d rather set my tent up on.
Abraham comes by and starts talking to me.  He works in the mechanic’s garage, and says I can set up  my tent on the concrete.  He is from the area, tells me about his family and his work at the truck stop, and makes me feel welcome an unconcerned about spending the night there.  The lights stay on all night and he sleeps in a little room nearby in case trucks come by needing to get cleaned.
He sits down with me while I make dinner and eat.  I say sorry, I don’t have enough to share but that I’d be happy to treat him to a Coke, and he accepts.  His family brings him dinner later anyway.  I ask him about the road ahead and where I should try to make it to the next night.  I’ve picked a little town halfway between here and the next big city so that the mileages would work out nicely, but he says that isn’t such a good idea.  I run the names of some other towns on the map by  him, and he tells me about the varying degree of “indian-ness” of the towns.  He tells me that he is Yaqui, and that there are Mayos and Huicholes down the coast.  His grandpa speaks Yaqui fluently, his dad just sometimes, but Abraham only knows a few phrases.  I ask if he wants to learn to speak, he tells me that since he grew up in the city there isn’t any point.
I get in my tent and am falling asleep when a truck pulls in to get sprayed off.  Abraham is hard at work with the high pressure hose for several hours.  Somehow I sleep well despite the idling trucks and the engine brakes throughout the night.
I eat breakfast while talking to Abraham, and leave the gas station by 9.  I make it to Guaymas late morning and end up taking a dead end to a hotel on a beach.  They have RV spots for US$19, but it is still so early in the day and there isn’t much to do near the hotel.  I find my way into downtown.  It is Friday and things are very busy, and the hotels are all US$30 and up.  I consider splurging to celebrate my arrival back to sea level, but don’t want to stop so soon.  At the very least I’ll get lunchh in Guaymas, _ceviche_ tostadas.  I fill my water bottles up at a water purifying storefront for 2 pesos, good deal.
On to Empalme, just 5 miles away, where I hope to find a cheaper hotel.  I do but it is full for the night and the owner tells me of a guest house.  I ask if there is a sign on the building, he says yes.  I get lost trying to find it and miss Chicago where everything is X blocks north, south, east or west, and where you can use the address to navigate.  After asking several people, I end up talking to a cop who tells me I’m almost there.  He is enthusiastic that I am in Empalme, and tells me that this is the place Charlie Chaplin got married.  We’ve got his marriage certificate.  Sweet!  I’m happy to have ended up here for the night.
I make it to the guesthouse, there is no sign outside.  It is a long narrow courtyard with a single story row of rooms on each side.  I look around, it is an odd place.  One of the guests has a fridge in his room, you can tell that some of the folks probably live here.  The owner comes be and shows me a room.  It probably saw its prime when Chaplin came through town.  But it is safe, is full of character, and for US$8 a hard deal to beat.  I ask where to get some food, and am told of Don Tamale just a block away.  For 2nd lunch, 3 tamales.  Exquisito!

The hotel in Benjamín Hill has a gated entrance that gets closed at night.  I look around the courtyard to find the owner.  I ask him if he could please open the gate, as I’d like to run to the corner store.  ”Well” he says, “I don’t know what ustedes usually eat (you guys? cyclists? gringos? bearded freckled gringo cyclists? I dare not ask him for clarification).  You can only get soda and chips there, why don’t you head into a town, go to a restaurant and buy yourself a carne asada, it will only cost you 40 pesos”.  I tell him “that sounds like a great idea for lunch or supper, but right now I’m just going to go buy some milk to go with the oatmeal I have back in the room”.  He shrugs his shoulders, “as you wish”, and opens the gate for me.

I’m back in one minute, the store is closed this early in the morning. I sit outside my room and eat my oatmeal.  The owner comes by and I ask him if I can take some fruit from one of the trees in the courtyard.  Apparently I’ve asked incorrectly, whether it be poor grammar or improper sentence structure, and he begins to lecture me.  He isn’t grumpy or nasty about it, but for some reason feels the need to correct me.  I don’t even get his explanation.  I guess I’m still thinking in English and translating into Spanish.

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November 20th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | 11 comments

Benjamín Hill, SON

I wake up and look at the clock, 7:53.  What?  I’ve been getting up consistently at 7:30 give or take 5 minutes without an alarm clock for several weeks now.  I attribute the extra sleep to the 60 mostly uphill miles from Tucson to Patagonia the day before.  I camped out a few miles out of town in the Coronado National Forest.  After inquiring what road to take out there, several folks let me know that there is a lot of smuggling and “illegals” in the area so be careful.  But it is a quiet night and no one bugs me.

It is 29°F on my thermometer, I decide to stay in my sleeping bag 15 more minutes.  I know I should get going as the border awaits, but for some reason don’t feel terribly hurried.  Eventually I get up and put several layers on just to be comfortable for breakfast, knowing that I won’t need them in an hour and probably not again for many weeks.

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November 17th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | 12 comments

Tucson, AZ

Over a week has gone by since my last update!  I’ve been in Tucson since Monday, graciously hosted by the Pirzynski, Quiroga and Johnson families.  I’ve been rather busy running errands and also just relaxing.  This feels like a time of transitioning into a new stage of the trip, Mexico.  I should be crossing the border at Nogales on Monday.  Things are going to get really interesting!

I sent over 11 pounds of stuff home; some of it things I’ve barely used the past 4 months, a bunch of maps and a few books, license plates I’ve found along the road and a heavy jacket I don’t expect to need anytime soon.

Bad news  I can’t let get to me… while out shopping today, somewhere in Tucson, someone stole my water bottle that has the logo of Cycle Smithy, the place I got my bike.  It happened to be my favorite water bottle of the two I have, the other is an uninspiring Performance Bike bottle.  Rather irritating.  Am I surprised it happened in the largest city of my trip so far?  Not really.

November 14th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | One comment

Payson, AZ

Had a wonderful time in Prescott, and since leaving, have put in some rather short distances, in part because of the terrain, and in part not feeling very motivated to get anywhere. It looks like I’ll be heading to Tucson.

November 6th, 2009 | Category: Uncategorized | 4 comments
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