Bicycling from Santa Cruz to Puerto Vallarta
Written: Oct 15 '99
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Life-affirming, affordable, educational
Cons: Health risks
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| wsj3's Full Review: Baja |
January 24, I set out from my home in Santa Cruz, Ca toward another adventure by bicycle, yet one which would prove quite different from past tours in many ways. The day before I'd come down with a viral lung infection and wasn't feeling physically at my best, but I was determined to keep with my schedule and begin moving south.
As with every tour I've done it did sprinkle for the first hour I was on the road and I don't remember any rain there after until we reached Baja. Striking out this time included my fully loaded BikeE recumbent, a mainstay of every tour I've done and this time hauling a BOB Yak trailer loaded with an unusual assortment of supplies and paraphernalia.
The first day brought me out of my hometown and into the neighboring vicinities of the beautiful Monterey Bay heading south following the Pacific Coast cycle route. Once in Monterey, after 55 miles of riding I was confronted with a monumental climb to the campground perched at the top of the highest hill in town which ironically had to also be the wettest spot despite being the highest. The next morning the ranger informed me that 'yes, we've had twice our normal rainfall to date'. This soggy spot would have to be endured for another night as I awaited the appearance of my touring partner Martha who would be arriving the next day.
World tour for ecology, world peace and the preservation of work horses.
Being Super Bowl Sunday I was inclined to walk into town and partake of any festivities which might be taking place. Within an hour I was in a bookstore reading 'Into the Wild' by John Krakauer which was complimentary to my spirit of adventure and exploration. Later that afternoon I ate in the local tacqeuria and watched the Super Bowl in espanol'.
The next day I met up with Martha and we endured the camping bog atop Veterans Memorial Hill in Monterey. We set out the next morning with a glimmer in our eyes as we contemplated our fate for the next couple months. Immediately we encountered the societal hostility toward cyclists when the Monterey Visitor Information Center informed us it was not possible to leave Monterey by bicycle heading south. After a good laugh we rode into a bike shop and were informed of the nescessary detour around the PGA tournament which was taking place at Pebble Beach.
Martha cookin' in our travelling kitchen.
Within a half hour we were on the high road toward adventure and the sky was blue with promise of mirth and merriment. We found numerous inviting places to stop along the Monterey coast and met a few inquisitive souls who inquired as to our destination with such an entourage. Marthas incredibly packed mountain bike looked so heavy as to be a hazard should one attempt to lift it, but it was no contest with the appearance of a recumbent towing a trailer with a fairing up front.
We arrived at Julia Pfieffer campground and were again lodging in a moisture trap which was very uncomplimentary to the viral infection which had invaded my lungs. However, I was convinced the best way to clear it out would be anothers day of hard riding. The next morning we set-out up the hill which would lead us into Big Sur territory. Once at the top my head felt much clearer and by the time we arrived at Kirk Creek, among my favorite camp spots in the world, I was no longer hostage to the dread affliction.
We were elated to discover that the next hundred mile stretch of the coast highway was closed to through traffic excluding bicycles which were few. Days like this are rare in a cycle tourists life and could be spent in no greater place on earth than this pristine slice of nirvana known as Big Sur. Our campground at Kirk Creek was empty, only months later it would prove impossible to find a spot for my dive partner and I. A swim in the ocean and the warm sunshine were offering the promise of good cycling which was so welcome after the previous weeks and months of storms.
Contemplating the Big Sur Coastline
Setting out the next morning we were quick to discover that with the lack of traffic would be an abrupt end of services and we would have to make due with what we have until civilization reappeared. This proved no problem as we were sustained by Clif bars and Gatorade.
The next day we are heading out of Ragged Point and into the realm of cars and people. Within an hour we encounter a man laying in the lush vegetation on the side of the road with inline skates on. It seemed stange enough to me to encourage continuing without inquiry. However, Martha, the ever inquisitive must stop and speak with the gentleman. In the distance I could see a very unusual vehicle approaching which, yes, appeared to be drawn by horses. Upon encountering the oversized carriage I was transported to scene from the Wizard of Oz as the gentleman driving the horses greets me with his deep Russian accent. Petr and Vladimir had traveled via inline skates and horse drawn carriage through Siberia in Winter, Europe and across the Southern tier of the United States. They were currently heading to Alaska. And this would begin our 'cross section of wandering wierdos' as we called them for humorous effect. After a half hour of chat and being video taped, signing guest books and having these penniless souls force fruit into our panniers we departed. We waved goodbye and they continued their "world ecological tour for the environment, world peace and the preservation of work horses".
Typical bivy
Down the road a few more miles we encountered the largest collection of elephant seals I'd ever scene. Some of them were actively engaged in territorial disputes, while mothers with pups frolicked in the sun and sand.
A couple more days of riding delivered us into San Luis Obisbo where the first soul we encountered is a Japanese man who is walking around the world. We'd been told to look for a woman who was walking the Pacific Rim, but instead this exhausted looking man with khaki pants and a long sleeved shirt was hauling a loading cart with a set of packs in it. The woman who ran the hostel where we all parked was overwhelmed with exuberance for the hapless walker, while Martha and I were treated like trouble (strange since I've been a regular volunteer at the hostel in Santa Cruz and mentioned it to her). San Luis Obispo had a wonderful street fair and farmers market that evening and after shopping I indulged in an entire pint of Ben n' Jer's New York Super Fudge Chunk without the slightest guilt. My riding legs were definitely coming back strong and I could feel the weight of the trailer decreasing in it's demands every day. I determined the following week that I'd been carrying sixty-eight pounds of equipment on tour. I'd decided for an extended tour it would be nice to bring along a few non-utilitarian items such as a chess set, scrabble game, paints, brushes and colored pencils, mini cooler, backpacker guitar, disc-golf disc, climbing shoes to name a few. However, Martha had eighty pounds so I didn't feel that bad. She was the one that brought many items of utility and this made us highly complimentary. We'd decided that I was the 'entertainment commitee' and she was the 'save our ass commitee'.
Roadside jam break...
A couple nights later we were over the San Marcos pass into Santa Barbara on which someone tried to run me off the road and there was an amazing amount of traffic. Once in Santa Barbara though we were treated to the wonderful hospitality of Martha's friend Carrie and her boyfriend. Their quaint cottage was the perfect respite for these two weary travelers to rest for a couple days, and rest we did. We cooked wonderful meals, lounged on couches, walked in the sunshine and soaked in the stories of Carries love affairs in France while she played the accordian.
After a bike tuneup and a Trader Joe's shopping spree we were back on the road toward the city of angels. On the way we would encounter a military base, a space training facility and some surprisingly nice camping. Los Angeles by bicycle in my memory now was primarily following the beach sidewalk promenades which were wonderful, car free and lacking hills. We had one night at a hill top hostel, they're always on top of large hills and this one was way up there.
Our night in San Bernadino was unforgettable as we camped on the beach hoping for a peaceful event free night. Within the time it took to for an ocean swim we were joined by a local transient named Louise whom Martha treated with irreverent indifference and I decided to invite to tea. During tea we found our neighbor to be quite sane, but happier to spend her days without the interference of societal commitment. I prepared a wonderful enchilada meal and Martha a beautiful fruit salad. As we were eating we were joined by Sean, a former marine who now was semi-transient living from his back pack as he wandered the California coast. Louise attempted to light a fire in the small bbq of our campsite and with the limited supply of firewood we found that our fire could offer little more then to light our conversations. Sean made an extended effort to convince us that 'the goverment was clearly using mind control to maintain the new world order'. I inturn attempted to coax from him evidence that the Yankee's were staging a comeback in the World Series for this exact reason, but he would have none of it.
The next afternoon we arrived in La Jolla, a suburb of San Diego and by my accounts one of the most disturbing and surreal places I've ever visited. Since Jolla was not to be found in our dictionary I was quick to ask passers-by the meaning of the word. This met with contempt and uneasy reluctance as none of the folks whom I asked could answer the question. I felt like I'd stepped into a time slice of a frightening future while in La Jolla. There were virtually no people to be found walking the streets or sidewalks. Nothing I could see passed for park or rambla and everything felt sterile and inpenetrable like a bee's hive with frantic bee's unwittingly protecting the queen mother. No offense intended to those who live in or adore La Jolla. We spent two nights there bunking with the great hospitality of Martha's friends and again were happy to have the last opportunity to recoup before hitting the border and the brave new world south of the border.
Crossing the border proved amazingly eventless except the beauracratic interogation which mixed with the character of Mexico. We were required to step into a small, dirty room where a man in uniform and sunglasses asked questions in broken english. He granted us 30 day visas and sent us on our way.
After a truly hellish romp through a traffic-extravaganza we were in Tijuana and looking for the escape hatch. Consulting our Cycling Mexico notes we were quick to discover an exit and were soon chugging up a busy highways toward the country side. We stopped at an exquisite roadside fish-tacqueria where Martha had her first ever fish tacos. If you've never had fish taco's 'proper' in Baja, well then you've missed out.
We arrived in El Descanso and made a desperate, before it gets dark, effort to locate the Mission which I'd been told we could camp behind. Despite it's prominence on the map we could not locate a Mission and instead opted for the school yard where the caretaking family warmly invited us. This had to be one of the worst nights camping we had and I feared it might be symbolic of future nights. We had no chance to shower or wash and the ground was slanted and very rocky. Also it was very cool at night and we were in a very conspicous location. This was such an incredible contrast to what was to come that it's important for me to note it now.
The next day we rode toward Ensanada on what had to be the scariest highway stretch of our trip. This road was narrow, windy and high traffic with almost no visible shoulder. We were forced to assume that this would be the standard we'd be confronting for the next several weeks. Fortunately we were wrong. Despite my three prior trips to Baja, all with Green Tortoise adventure travel. I had never closely examined the road for touring inspection.
By days end we were both feeling very anxious about the prospect of cycling such treacherous highways for several weeks. At the campground we were met by gringos heading north after a month in Baja and they shared their liquour, stories and warnings with us. This night would prove much better then the previous as we took sponge baths and had a nice level ground to sleep on. Our gringo friends shared drinks mixed with a wonderful liquor which we nick-named 'the fat lady' as the bottle was shaped like a very large woman. After a couple drinks they started telling stories of the 'terrible roads' which lay ahead and the awesome prospect of 'speeding trucks'. After our previous day these stories were enough to make me even more wary of the road ahead.
Roadside Taqueria, ahhhh.
We set out the next morning and wound our way through some slightly hilly, narrow countryside until we were near the coast and the highway expanded to multi-lane toward Ensanada. We arrived at Ensanada at noon and found our first Panaderia and fish taco stand at the pier. My previous experiences in Ensanada brought us directly to these locations. We chatted amicably with the locals and practiced our baby words in espanol.
By this time in our tour Martha and I had grown close and would spend a good portion of the day chatting and laughing about arcane subjects and practicing our Espanol. I would often browse the vocabulary guide I had while riding and we'd attempt to ask questions of one another expecting an appropriate answer in Spanish. Things like this can turn the tedium of long days riding into fun and growing experiences. We were seldom at a loss for finding humor in roadside events and experiences past and future?
By the afternoon we'd encountered a stretch of road which was really in poor shape and had a fair amount of gravel which made the passing trucks and R.V.'s all the more hazardous. I remember telling Martha 'I'm not sure my memory serves me correctly, but the road could be just like this for the rest of the trip'. Fortunately it became much better soon after. We were treated to good roads for much of the rest of the tour. Also, we found that the distance between roadside watering holes were frequent enough to make resting and drinking sodas possible every thirty to forty miles.
We would spend many of the following nights camping in arroyo's, creekbeds which were easily locatable off the highway. We'd usually wait until the sun was beginning to set and then pull off the road, being sure that we were unobserved. We'd then wander up the arroyo until we were invisible from the road. We'd then setup our tent and collect firewood. Soon after we were cooking dinner and sipping Modelo's with lime under the stars in the forest of cacti.
The roadside pleasures.
During the day we'd discuss some imaginative ideas for the evening dinner and then find the nescessary additional items in the mercado's along the way. We were seldom inclined to eat out due to the great pleasure of cooking in the cactus desert. We also made great breakfasts every morning which included date-pecan pankcakes, coffee, local fruits and other imaginative creations.
That night we rode into San Vicente in the dark and the panaderia was still open serving incredibly good coconut empanadas! We met a very friendly woman who advised us on getting to the beach where we'd hoped to camp and told us it was seguro (safe). We then headed out onto the dirt road toward the beach in the dark which was a little difficult due to the quality of the road and semi-invisible hills. We also had a long day of riding and at one point we stopped at a fork in the road and laughed reading the sign. We arrived at the beach late and made dinner. The next morning was spent swimming and looking at the beautiful beach and surf. An couple hours later we were back in San Vicente and having breakfast/lunch at the gringo restaurant when we were joined by a Dutch fellow who'd already rode down Baja to Cabo and was now on his way back north. He had a lot of good information and a lot of energy considering he'd spent the morning riding into a head wind. He reassured us that the roads were fair and the trucks were fine. For some reason he'd had regular problems with coyote, which we never encountered. He also advised us that the hill out of Lareto was very dangerous, which we'd heard before.
We spent the next couple days riding through beautiful coastal country-side with collective farms and small towns regularly appearing. Although the beaches were usually inaccessible we found ourselves to be in a slice of paradise as we rode.
A rest day and a good book on the beach.
The wind was variable and we found a headwind regularly in our face which made some sections difficult. However, once the highway turned inland the wind dissipated. After turning inland we encountered some amazing riding in the high desert of Baja. Spectacular scenery which shifted by the hour and we also hit another section of headwind which slowed things to a crawl. We stopped at a roadside stand and had one of the most memorable experiences of my life. This little slice of Baja was unforgettable as we stared from the open air cantina onto the desert and the proprieter put on my Chris Isak Baja Session tape. I pulled out my colored pencils and drawing pad and sketched the landscape while Martha chatted with the Mexican tourist who pulled in and shared friendly conversation with us. La vida is beuno...
The next days were spent riding through the beautiful high desert where the landscapes were magnificent and the camping was some of the most memorable of my touring experience. One day we encountered an amazing contrast in the tourist experience available to those visiting Baja. In our notes there was mention of 'Mama Espinoza's', a restaurant which featured 'lobster burritos'. However, Mama Espinoza was our introduction to the tourist traps of Baja. Outside the restaurant were a couple RV's and a tourist bus which emptied itself of the gringo group from Colorado.
Usually when we'd encounter U.S. tourists they would look at us in horror when it dawned on them what we were doing. Then they would admonish us regarding the 'crazy truck drivers' who would 'surely run you off the road'. This would usually be followed by a snicker and an off hand comment like 'guess someone's gotta be roadkill'. I found that the most hazardous people on the road usually had California license plates and a complete ignorance of the concept of speed limit.
Once inside Mama Espinozas we were ignored for a good fifteen minutes after seating ourselves. Mama Espinoza was busy entertaining the bus load and telling them that the items for sale on the tables up front were locally made crafts and clothing (which seemed very unlikely upon examination). Well, we finally got up to leave in disgust after being ignored and then Mama Espinoza made every effort to keep us around to build up an exorbitant lunch bill. We wasted no time escaping and laughing as we rode the extra mile into town and settled into Tacqueria Gonzales, an empty little tacqueria which seethed in local flair with the proprietor and his wife endlessly smiling and holding conversation with us in our broken Espanol. They served up the most delicious tacos which I'll never forget.
After hitting the local panaderia we were on the road for a few miles. Martha and I were flying high on endorphins and the comfort of a belly full of tacos and we found ourselves laughing so hard that it became impossible to ride so we found a great hidden spot to camp in the cactus forest.
Waking up for the morning coffee call
Back on the road we were rolling into Catavina when we encountered three guys on tour with an interesting assortment of cycles and equipment. Martha and I were very high on endorphins, brimming with smiles and jokes when we rode up to the group whom I nicknamed the 'Three Amigos'. They didn't seem to keen on our frivolity although clearly interested in conversation. They informed us that they were planning to stay in the pay campground across the way and that they'd try to sneak into the pool at the hotel. Martha and I told them of our adventures to date and we determined that we were all heading the same direction. Martha and I felt like it would be best to keep apart from them when we learned that one of them had a small sign on the back of his bike which said 'necesar mota' which in English means 'need marijuana'. After having been through one drug check point with well armed military inspectors we wanted nothing to do with that crowd. Also, there energy level seemed a bit strange and intense.
We then rode out of town and up to a truckers restaurant where we entered the ramshackle establishment which looked like they hadn't had business in weeks. A few moments later two trucks pulled up and out hopped a middle aged Mexican who started talking to us in an anebriated haze in broken but understandble English. He seemed very interested in what we were up to. A few moments later his friend walked up and they both shared a strong drunken embrace in which the one whom we'd been speaking to exclaimed 'Happy New Year!!'. Maybe you had to be there, but this was so absurd and funny that Martha and I just stood in semi-shocked amazement taking in these two characters who closely resembled Ren & Stimpy. They were both very drunk and continued to talk to us about what we would be encountering as we headed south. They made gestures which portrayed stinging scorpions which would crawl into our shoes, biting snakes which would encircle our tents and raping and shooting banditos who would molest Martha and leave me for dead. But in the end they emphasized that we shouldn't worry and that our trip would be wonderful and safe. What a slice of Baja these two were.
We made camp a few miles out of town in an arroyo where we had our first oatmeal scrub. You take a container of hotwater with the mornings oatmeal in it and add soap. After a good stir you dip your towel into the mixture and scrub yourself clean. Then with another towel you wipe down using cold water. Afterward your clean and feel great as you quickly dry in the desert air.
How we bathed in the desert (note grannies towel with cactus)
The next day we were passed by the Three Amigos who had hitchhiked a ride to Guerrero Negro in the back of a pickup. We saw them later that day where their ride had run out of gas at a little diner. We would see them again the next night when we arrived in Guerrero Negro after a LONG DAYS ride. The little hotel we stayed in was a welcome respite as we did laundry, shopped and refueled our muscles by taking a day off.
We rolled out of Guerrero Negro the next day on our way to the oasis of San Ignacio. This day we were treated to a tail wind which allowed us to fly for another long day of riding. By late afternoon we'd found an excellent piece of desert to bivy in and spectacular sunset to watch. I set around the fire playing my guitar that night (Blind Lemon Willie) while Martha played the recorder. I would make up blues songs about the experiences we'd had that day. We'd decided to call our impromptu band Los Importaciones Barrata (The Cheap Imports).
We arrived in San Ignacio in the early afternoon and were treated to a swim in the naturally occuring cool aquifer lake that is shrouded in palms. The Three Amigos were at hand as well as a host of other travellers. We'd decided that privacy and being away from the crowd had appeal in that you could choose when you wanted to interact with others. So we scouted high and low for a reclusive camp spot which we found sometime later deep in the wood. After setting up camp we were joined by a local Mexican who introduced himself as Victor and told us that we owned the land we were camped on. We invited him to hear us play some traditional Mexican folks songs which we picked out of the book Martha had brough along. We also set him up with a couple shots of our orange liquer. He was very friendly and made every effort to converse with us in Espanol. By this time Martha's spanish speaking ability had dramatically improved. Her having three languages under her belt helped quite a bit and made communication much more accessible.
The wind is too strong to ride out of San Ignacio
The next morning we set out toward the Gulf of California but were severly shut down due to incredible headwinds which made progress impossible. After three hours with almost no significant progress we stopped and ate lunch, contemplating what was next. We made the decision to hitch hike to the coast, a huge mistake and one which I will never make again touring. We were able to get a ride after about two hours, but the discomfort of sitting in a metal container, wizzing quickly by the landscape with no connection to the progress was difficult. It became emotionally painful when we encountered the coast and the Bahai de Concepcion. There's no way in words to describe the empty, hollow feeling which overwhelmed us when after cycling so far we were forced to see this magnificent stretch of land from a car.
The guy who was giving us a ride was very friendly and when he was pulled over by the Federales for speeding we thanked him and headed out for Lareto. Lareto was a very nice town with a distinct coastal charm. We found a motel and drank beer into the night from the Veranda.
We rode the next morning and afternoon until we reached Mulege and found this town unappealing in it's touristic trappings. After a good lunch we rode along the coast until we found a beach where we could camp. We encountered a Canadian family who were camping at the end of a dirt road which wound out toward the beach. After talking with them we found a site to watch a wonderful sunset.
Mulege Sunsets
The upcoming stretch was the one we'd been warned would be dangerous and difficult hill climbing which should be avoided if possible. So, we were confronted once again with the prospect of hitchhiking, in this case for the sake of safety. Once again we regretted our required mode of travel in that after catching a ride we were whisked by some of the most beautiful landscapes and views we'd yet encountered. My stomach sunk so low I thought might never recover, in some ways I never have. The Bahai de Concepcion was magnificent from behind the cars window, I can only imagine it from the vantage of my bicycle.
The dreaded hill did not appear so bad as was described, just long. Most traffic was forced to slow down for the curvy and long uphill battle back to the high desert of Central Baja. We arrived at Ciudad de' Constitution in the afternoon and rode the 30 miles out to Puerto Lopez Mateos. Where we'd hoped to have a whale watching experience.
Although we didn't see whales we did have a nice diversion into this town which lacked tourists and had it's own distinctly Mexican feeling. After two days we rode back out to Bahai de Concepcion and then confronted with the constraint of time stuck the thumbs out once more and were delivered that evening in La Paz.
Once in La Paz we found our way to a corner taqueria stand and ate (brave in retrospect). That evening we stayed in this funky, cheap tourist hotel who's proprietor was a shrewd negotiator on price. We found it fun to occassionaly bargain for rooms at the bigger hotels and Martha proved a capable agent in this regard. Around midnight we heard drunken Americans arguing with the guy about how they'd only pay 40 pesos and he was demanding 60, this after we'd negotiated down to 100. Pirates...arghhh.
Ice Creams, sushi and cappucinos were reminders of what we'd left behind at home. We also found a large grocery store which had a huge selection, something we hadn't seen since California.
We set out for the Pacific coast after a days recovery and were delighted to be back on the 'Road to High Adventure'! This day was spent getting us to Todos Santos which on the way lead us to meet our little friend named 'Chito'. We stopped at a small mercado off the road and had lunch under a tree. We were joined by little six year old Chito who was an endless source of laughter and amusement.
Martha rides offroad in the far South of Baja
The ride to Todos Santos was very nice, however, things would spiral downhill when we arrived in town. Martha and I had a little disagreement where she accused me of 'always deciding what we would make for dinner'. Later she apologized and told me she was having her 'bad day' of the month. Things weren't made better when a dog pee'd on my pannier and some hippies walking by laughed.
Todos Santos is a semi-famous surf destination and has a few great amenities in town due to that. We picked up groceries and fresh fish for dinner. We then made it our objective to get to the beach before dark for a cleansing swim. Upon arriving we quickly jumped in as the sun set and were quick to discover this 'fishermans' beach was not a pleasant, pardisical locale. Garbage and abandoned fishing gear we're strewn about and I was attacked by a sudden bout of stomach ache which didn't complement the wonderful dinner Martha prepared. Nearby were two wimpering and abandoned puppies who cried all night, very unpleasant company. During the evening we started a fire and were joined by a fisherman who appeared to live at this beach and spoke semi-incomprehensible slurred Spanish with us for a short while and after tea departed. The next morning we cycled to a beach south of Pescadero which was very nice and should have been our destination from the previous evening. There was a collection of rv's and surf vehicles strewn about the beach and a world class taco stand just minutes from the surf. Martha and I dug in our heels and enjoyed a couple days of body surfing, reading, relaxing and being beach dazed. I was still recovering from a minor stomach bout which quickly dissipated. The next morning we ate breakfast at the wonderful Tres Arboles restaurant which wasn't the closest thing to a quality Santa Cruz breakfast I'd had since leaving.
The beach at Mismaloya...
We rode to Cabo San Lucas after breakfast, a long but enjoyable stretch of mild hills and good weather. We steered clear of Cabo San Lucas due to it's reputation as a tourist trap and headed directly into San Jose Del Cabo which proved to be a truly delightful place to recreate and meet folks. The first night we spent on the beach after beers and had a great chat with a sixty-five year old American who was spending a few months surfing nearby. This guys spirit was incredibly inspiring and lightened my anxiety about the prospect of growing older.
While in San Jose we found great taco stands, a nice hotel and I had all my hair cut off. Something I told myself I'd do when the weather got hot.
The day we decided to leave San Jose turned out to be an adventerous travail. Martha's seat went into complete disfunction as we were leaving and we were lead to a garage based bike shop with a very friendly proprietor and his consorts. Martha found her needed part and we were wished 'Buen Suerte', 'Good Luck' to which I replid, 'no necesito', not necessary. I would eat these words when twenty minutes later my rear tire blew and I broke two spokes. Back at the bike shop it would take two hours to get the problem resolved, which actually became very entertaining interacting with the folks at the bike shop. None of the attitude so prevelant at local bike shops in my home town could be found with these friendly, generous folks.
Road side stands are generally safe and tasty.
Finally we were headed toward Agua Caliente the natural hot springs in the hills which would require all the time left in the day at least. A mild grade would present itself to us the rest of the day as we wound our way into the hills. As the sunset we decided to break a rule and ride in the dark. After about a half an hour under the moon my rear tire blew out again. I attempted to replace the tire and the second tire blew our as well. We were stuck, my rear rim had a spur which was putting holes into until I could fix it. After deciding that there was no way we could camp we stuck out our thumbs in hope of finding a ride back to San Jose Del Cabo and back to our friends bike shop.
After many cars passed us we were feeling desperate and depressed about getting into this predicament. From a distance I could see a car swerving and driving very fast approaching. Martha pointed her bike-light flasher at the car and stuck out her thumb while I walked into the bushes exclaiming my reluctance to even stand by the road with this car approaching, much less hitch a ride. Well, Martha stood her ground and the large white pickup truck pulled over. The men in the car told us in English they would give us a ride. They both had a beer and were smoking cigarettes. We looked at each other and decided to go for it. After loading our bikes with our new found friends help we piled in and were offered beers which we gladly accepted (it had been a long day and a couple shots of tequila would have been even better).
The kitchen of a roadside stand in the Oaxacan sierras
Back at the bike shop and then out on the road again. We hit Miraflores that afternoon, after a grueling day in very warm desert terrain. Along the way I'd been beaned by a rock which an elementary kid had thrown at me. This was a real shocker and steamed me. However, at midday in the desert heat a vw bug rental car pulled up next to me and handed me a cold Pacifico. Wow, it was like a dream come true. In Miraflores we napped in the shade of a tree in a beautiful little park while scarfing cookies. Idle moments like these make the experience so worthwhile.
Beautiful streets of small Oaxacan villages
We arrived at Agua Calient in the evening. A small village and the reclusive hot springs which were occupied by a small international entourage. After meeting the friendly folks we treated ourselves to a hot spring and swim in the beautiful river. This paradise was to be short lived as I would come down hard with a case of the Mexican blues while sleeping that night. Our wonderful curry masala will always be associated with numerous runs into the bushes all night long.
The next day I was spiraling downhill fast and ironically while Martha tried to organize a rescue car trip to Santiago, she passed out from menstural complications. The Germans who drove us to nearby Santiago must have really felt for us. I was just glad I didn't blow my pants in their car.
Once in Santiago we were treated to the 'cheap hospital' as I called it. A wonderful motel with clean well rooms and beautiful bathrooms where I spent countless hours. The fever ran high and Martha was my saving Madonna as she nursed me to health over the next three days. This town was so beautiful that I hope one day to return and savor its many graces.
Familia de' Oaxaca
By day three I was on the mend and when I attempted to walk down the street I knew what it would be like to be very old. I could barely walk and was aided by my companero Martha. After a block I was weary and back on the porch to rest. The next day we packed and rode out of town. Of course the first four miles were a steep hill. At the top I couldn't continue riding and we stuck the thumbs back out. Our goal to get to La Paz so we could ferry over to the mainland. It was Sunday, a day we nicknamed Domingo Retardes because on Sunday afternoons Mexicans would get roaring drunk and be out driving. The police didnīt seem to care. We didnīt realize how drunk the driver was of one ride until he stopped to get more beer and could barely walk! He also drove the car off the road and almost into honking on coming traffic. Madre de Dios! We should have gotten out of the vehicle then and there but we rode a bit further to a place where it would be easier to catch another ride before dark. Just as it was getting dark we got a ride into La Paz.
In La Paz, we enjoyed what it had to offer thanks to tourism - good coffee and ice cream again, and this time we tried the Chinese food and sushi! The Chinese food was great. The sushi, well, we are spoiled by Californian sushi. The selection was not anything to write home about, but it tasted good. Also, wandering through La Paz is nice and relaxing.
Ahhh...Oaxaca
From La Paz we were going to take the ferry to Mazatlan on the mainland. On Monday morning we went to the ferry office to buy tickets for the ferry in the afternoon. After waiting in line for a half an hour before the office opened with a host of other people, a guard came out to inform us that the ferry might not run that day, but we could wait if we wanted to. Everyone waited. When the office opened, we filed in and sat down. After another half and hour an official looking type informed us that the ferry had technical problems and would not be leaving La Paz that day. He didnīt know whether it would leave the next day until later that afternoon. Amazingly everyone just got up and left without a word of protest or inquiry. In the afternoon the same sequence of events happened with the instructions to come back the next morning. The next morning, we thought it would happen all over again, but this time we got tickets. We were on our way to the mainland!
The ferry ride was uneventful. We got the cheap seats and slept (as much as was possible) on the floor in the cafeteria during the night. After leaving La Paz at 3 pm on Tuesday, we arrive in Mazatlan at 8:30 am on Wednesday. The ferry itself was so much different then what I would have imagined. Far more modern and well equipped.
Street corners in Mexico are like no others
We attempted to ride from Mazatlan, but the traffic was too heavy and the road too narrow. At first we tried to catch a ride with a pick-up truck, but after several hours we called it quits and took a bus to Tepic. We cycled from Tepic to Puerto Vallarta on a beautiful stretch of road which included 25 kilometers of downhill! In Tepic we discovered the delicious Mexican dish of Pazole, mmmmm what a treat.
For that matter, streets are like no others
50 km before Puerto Vallarta, however, I discovered that he had lost two crank bolts (Martha to the rescue with a spare crank bolt in her repair kit) and that his bottom bracket had come completely loose. We limped into Puerto Vallarta and found a bicycle repair shop. We arrived at closing time, so we made arrangements to return in the morning.
Puerto Vallarta is a newly built up tourist area catering to North Americans with big fancy hotels along the nice beaches. We found the old town and an affordable hotel (60 pesos = $8.00). We didn't know that the price included a barking dog, a ringing church bell and a squawking parrot all night long. Once settled and showered we headed out into the lively evening street life - locals and tourists walking around, taco stands, street corner vendors, musicians. First we headed to the tourist area so Will could get his capuccino fix. Then we returned to the old town and feasted on chicken tomales, creamed corn (fresh corn kernals in a plastic cup mixed with sourcream, cheese and chili pepper) and beer while we listed to a rancho band play on a street corner. The old town of Puerto Vallarta is charming and warm.
The next day, we returned to the bike shop. We got bad and good news. The master repairman found that my bottom bracket was completely stripped and that he did not have the parts to fix it. However, he was able to repair it temporarily. 15 km out of Puerto Vallarta, it fell apart completely. It turned out that I had some type of experimental hub and this would end the cycling aspect of our tour.
Oh no! Stampede!
We went and camped on Mismaloya Beach (famous because it was the location for the film "The Night of the Iguana") in front of a five star hotel for two days to contemplate our fate. This was a great place just to kick back and enjoy beach life. The Hotel had amenities which would could acess while the beach had numerous palapa restaurants. After two nights we decided to hitch and take buses until we reached Acapulco and from there we would rent a car to do a week long tour of Oaxaca.
Real Cowboys
We got a ride to Tomatlan, no problem.We weren't able to get a ride any further, so we took a bus to Manzanillo. On the bus, we encountered our first experience of the "mordida" - the small bite. The drivers charged us 50 pesos for our bicycles and pocketed the money. I complained and surprisingly, one of the drivers gave me some money back! On the bus from Manzanillo to Acapulco, we encountered a similar mordida, but this time it was the woman selling the tickets in the office and she got caught. Instead of us getting our money back, the bus company made it an official charge!
Acapulco is a crazy, hot, and in my opinion, ugly city. The beaches are not that clean or beautiful. Everwhere you turn, someone is trying to sell you something - food, handicrafts, tourist excursions, etc. Nevertheless, it is still a hot tourist destination, especially for Mexicans during their Easter vacation. In Mexico, everyone who can, heads for the beach the week or two before Easter. We were lucky to find a hotel room at the Hotel San Francisco owned by a former San Franciscan. If you ever go to Acapulco definitely stay there, its great. In fact, they were kind enough to let us store our bicycles for a week while we toured Oaxaca. We were glad to get out of Acapulco.
Martha in our rental car
Oaxaca was another world! Our first night we camped on a beach at a town called Mazunte, near Puerto Angel. It has become an ecotourist destination hosting a turtle preservation museum, a natural cosmetic factory and massage! It was a slaughterhouse of the endangered turtles until 1990. Now they are trying to do things differently. The location was beautiful, but the people seemed somewhat begrudging of the tourists. We only stayed one night, so it was hard to tell really what was going on. Hiking in this area was very nice.
Mazunte
The incredibly winding road from the coast to Oaxaca travels through some of the most spectacular scenery we have seen - high mountains hidden in clouds with communities clinging to the steep hillsides, a lot of people on foot or with donkeys carrying bundles of firewood and other things. This was truly a magical experience and place.
Costa de' Bonita
We arrived in Oaxaca during the peak rush hour at 7 pm. Again because of the holidays many of the hotels were full, but we found one which had a room on the roof, with the bathroom and shower down a ladder on the second floor! This roof proved to be the best spot in town as we could drink beers and check out street life with a canopy of stars above us. It also proved to be a great open area for morning breakfast and lounging. What a treat!
Oaxaca is a beautiful city with colorfully painted old two-storey buildings, more than 2 dozen churches built in the 16th and 17th centuries and cobblestoned streets. Indigenous people from all over the state sell handicrafts and food in the central square. And the very young kids are sent to sell items to the people sitting at the cafes ringing the central square. Every few minutes another kid comes along and puts their goods in front of your face. They only go away if you buy something or tell them half a dozen times that you aren't interested. One evening while we were eating chicken mole tamales at one of the cafes, everyone got out of their seats and pointed at the sky. It was a partial lunar eclipse!
Ruined at the ruins
We also visited Tlaxiaco and Putla, not a grand as Oaxaca, but very special more so because of the lack of tourists. People were genuinely friendly and curious about us. The markets were full of local people selling everything imaginable - from prepared food, to fresh meat, fruits, vegetables, chilis, baked goods, plasticware, metalware - you name it, it was there. In Putla Martha made friends with a 17 year old woman who is also named Martha. She showed her home and introduced Martha to here friends. She approached Martha while she was sitting alone watching a volleyball match in the town center. In Tlaxiaco, a local glass cutter talked our ear off about all the archeological sites in Mexico while also offering us pot and mushrooms! He was surprised that we weren't interested in the drugs, but he was helpful and directed us to a nice clean and cheap hotel.
On the road between Tlaxiaco and Putla, we stopped at a small roadside stand for a snack. The woman shyly made us quesadillas and served up a bowl of the best beans we have had on the trip. After some conversation, however, she opened up. We showed her some pictures of the early part of our trip. She asked for one as a souvenir. Of course we gave her one. Down the street was her beautiful home with a front yard covered in flowers. The landscape of this area was very similar to the California Sierras.
The time came at last when I would have to go back to Acapulco and fly home leaving Martha to continue on solo toward Guatemala. I was excited to be heading home as the weather was getting very warm and I was becoming road weary. The transition from bicycle to car had worn on me and made me much more edgy. Also, the lack of effeciency in Mexico has a subtle effect on Americans who have spent there whole life with certain expectations. However, the sweet flavors, feelings and friends we encountered will always be fresh in my mind.
This was my forth trip to Mexico, but by far my most comprehensive. It renewed my feelings that Mexico is not what many think. It's a friendly, safe country where the people have much pride of their heritage and unique style of life.
This is the list of items which I'm bringing on my tour from Santa Cruz, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
(Things I'm going to pick up on the way are: tires/tubes, small plastic cooking stirrer)
The usual stuff:
Overland Chaos Crag II paniers
Eureka lightweight tent
Montbell 10 degree sleeping bag
Thermarest w/ Thermalounger chair
Petzl head lamp
small flashlight
Sunblock/Mosquito repellant combolotion
2 bungee chords
bandanas (very useful multi-purpose items)
compact camera/five rolls slide film
small binoculars
sunglasses (bring 2 pairs of the cheap kind in case one is lost or breaks)
travel wallet (visa/atm/passport/insurance info/d.l./cash)
compass/thermometer doo-dad
daypack
padlock and softweave cable
sponge w/scrubber
small towel
smaller yet towel
AAA Mexico/Ca maps
AAA Mexico book
Spanish for gringos tapes
Plastic garbage bags for rain
sunhat
batteries
small cooler
Leisure items:
backpacker guitar and case
guitar tuner
discgolf disc
climbing shoes
scrabble/chess
hackysack
drawing/writing pad w/ pencils/paints/brushes and pack
novel or six
Sony walkman w/cool tapes
2 guitar song books
small handheld cassete recorder
daypack
Cooking items: small coffee/sip thermos
coffee filters/filter holder
Eureka Peak Camp kit
Eureka Peak Apex II Stove w/ stuff bag
Eureka fuel bottle
Teflon mini-wok pan
all-in-one knife w/spoon and fork
Food items:
raisins
lb of coffee
2 cans tuna
nori (for sushi)
rice
olive oil
tamari
balsamic vinegar
bag of oatmeal
spices (curry, lemonsalt, allspice)
pecans/walnuts/dried apricots
gatorade
power and cliff bars
Personals:
toothbrush
floss
razor
liquid soap
moisturizer
disposable contact lenses
toilet paper in plastic holder
lipbalm
Clothing:
waterproof gortex shell
polar fleece coat
*3 pair cycling shorts
*2 pair polypropolyne underwear tops and bottoms
*nylon pullover cap (best to get kind that can be pulled over face)
Nguba cycling shoes
6 pairs of socks
1 pair pants
3 t-shirts
Tevas
waterproof wool mittens (very important)
1 Long sleeved cotton shirts
1 pair gramicci pants
Bike related:
BikeE 21 sp. recumbent w/rack
BOB Trailer w/BOB Case
BOB to BikeE adapter from Angletech
Drop-end bars
Tools and accessories: Gyro helmet
spare rear and front tires and tubes
Cool Tool
Hypercracker (cog removal tool)
teflon
spokes
Myrrycle mirror
SPD pedals
Bike Patch kit
Blackburn Handlebar bag
Wireless Bike Computer
Zefal Mt. Pump
Superglue small rag (wiping hands and parts when repairing)
parts and tools bag
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
wsj3
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Member: Will Johnston
Location: Oakland, CA
Reviews written: 18
Trusted by: 10 members
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