Antigua

(DAY038 : Panajachel - Antigua : 70 miles)
(DAY039-57 : Antigua)

We followed Cesar's advice and used an alternative route to Antigua, over Patzun. The road was narrow and had too many slow hairpins for spirited riding, but views were simply beautiful.


The volkan now left behind

Transformers entering Patzun

We arrived Antigua at around 4pm and checked in to a hotel for $30. If you'd believe they came down to 30 from $90.


Checking in.

Antigua closely resembles San Cristobal with its colonial style buildings, but the similarities don't go much further. The streets are wider and less colorful, with much less indigineous people in their traditional clothes (asking for a peso or insisting on your purchase of yet another tortuga or whatever). San Cristobal appears to be culturally richer, and despite its large number of visitors, lives mostly for its own. Antigua, on the other hand, is overrun by foreigners and lives for tourists. Surrounded by three volcanoes instead of residing on a tall mountain, it has very gentle weather and dramatic backdrops in every direction. I was more inspired by San Cristobal, but I think I like it here more.







An "Angelina" from Pueblo Alotenango.






Yes, it's very touristy.

Ah, excuse my manners. This is Gallo.


Part 2

After the first 3 nights at the hotel, I moved to stay with a wonderful family. Their home also serves as a pupusa restaurant and internet cafe, and provides Katirga with secure parking. Spending $75 a week for a room with private bathroom and 3 meals, I can afford to stay here, well, forever. But the most important part is, I feel at home.



Henry left after 4 nights, but I hope to catch up with him in Costa Rica while he attends his yoga classes. As for my Spanish lessons, I quit them after trying out a couple of different teachers. I know there are some really good schools here, but finding the one does not appear to be an easy task. My salsa classes on the other hand, suffer only from my own ineptitude. Nevertheless, they're way too much fun to quit, and poor Marisol keeps trying. If she can get me to salsa, she can make salseros from elephants. (And yes, I think she can)


Part 3

So what the heck have I been doing in Antigua for 18 days!?. I guess you could say taking a vacation from my vacation, err, I mean expedition. But I swear it wasn't just time spent at Reilly's.

When we first arrived Panajachel, Katirga's tripmeter reset button had gotten stuck. I wasn't surprised that much because it always felt like a Fisher-Price toy to begin with. Problem is, I really need that thing to know when it's time to fill up. Then, about a week ago she developed a new, more serious problem: The battery was getting discharged, or failing to hold charge, so the engine wouldn't crank. Thankfully it turned out to be the battery, and not the electrical system. (Thanks to everyone at advrider.com and klr650.net who helped me check the system properly.) But as I started stripping her I realized that one of the bolts holding the rear rack and left pannier was about to fall off, a hose was slowly getting cut by the cylinder head, and the engine temperature sensor cable's insulation was burnt. Am I able to make these sound like a lot of work? Oh, well...


Good girl. She lets me shoot her in the nude as well.


Wishful design?


Jorge, Marisol's boyfriend, is working on releasing his third album, and I was called to task for shooting the images. It's such a breeze to scout here. There are more nice locations than you can point a camera at, and no one pesters you for permits etc. No need to put on a show for the client either. We just went out, shot, wrapped, and ate.



In the mean time, I have ventured out of town a few times as well. I left the cameras at home when Silvana gave me a tour of Guatemala City, but I do have a few visuals from others...

Below: A fiesta in San Andres, Itzapa.







The black sand beach in Monterico is a 2 hour drive from Antigua. We went crowded, the whole family, and the kids loved it. For me, it was the trip more than anything else. Unless I'm geared up for scuba, I rarely see a reason to get wet in the murky, wavy waters of the Pacific. Spoiled Mediterranean kid. I know, I should've picked up wave surfing. Maybe in Costa Rica...

The beach did have a cool trick up it's sleeve though: a sea turtle sanctuary. Everyday at sunset, baby tortugas are released to the ocean with a sincere "Suerte!".






Oh, and there's one more reason why I'm still here:

If you've been following this trip right from the beginning (and why not if not?) you already know, but I'll share the whole thing once again just for its entertainment value:

At the preparation stage of this trip, when I applied for a tourist visa to Panama through their consulate in Texas, I was told that the process would take one month or less. (Yep, 1 month for a visa!) A month after my application, they still had my passport but couldn't say much except "Please call tomorrow". So I did. And they told me to "call tomorrow". For 2 months, every day, the very same woman, had the (whatever you might call it) to say "Please call tomorrow". I spent an awful lot of time trying to get through to their randomly operational phone lines, waiting on hold, or telling myself to remain calm. Then one day, Mariela agreed to let me talk to someone else, who in turn told me: "But sir, you call us every day, how can we possibly do our job like this?".

They had delayed me long enough. I had them return my passport, and left without the visa, 80 days after my application. Still, I did call them again, from San Cristobal, Mexico. It had been over three and a half months, so perhaps... But I'm sure you can guess what she said. And I did call again the next day. And she did say "call tomorrow" again. A very bad dream. And, no, I did not call again.

You can imagine my surprise when I received an email from Mariela, saying that my visa was authorized and they needed my passport. It took them only 4 months and 4 days.

Had Antigua not been this cute and comfortable, there's no way I'd risk sending my passport to Texas, especially when I know that there's not a Turkish consulate in Guatemala should it get lost. As I write this, I'm still without a passport. This time it's DHL that keeps telling me "tomorrow". It's been picked up from Texas, and was supposed to be here yesterday. Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll be out of here and back on the road shortly. (Right?)


Part 4

Right!

Panajachel

(DAY036 : Comitan - Panajachel : miles)
(DAY037 : Panajachel)


The road to Guatemala border was outstanding. The curves, the surface... In about one hour I was at the Banjercito taking care of Katirga's paperwork. (If you forget to officially exit your vehicle you may have to pay fines later.) Once that was taken care of, in about 10 minutes, I was next door exiting my person from the country. I entered Mexico with a visa which took 45 days to obtain, so once I exit there's no going back for me. Another 5 minutes later, I left Mexico customs and immigration in company of 2 other bikes. One of the 1200GSes was straddled by Cesar and his wife, from Mexico City, the other by Mike from Los Angeles. Following Cesar's lead we continued to the border and bypassed the long line at the gate. The Guatemala border is total chaos. A narrow dusty road filled with trucks and people, more like an open bazaar and not remotely resembling a border. Yet, you somehow end up where you're supposed to, and before we knew it, our bikes were getting fumigated. A required but completely meaningless procedure that is supposed to justify the $2 charge per bike. After visiting a couple more booths, $7 and 35 minutes later, a kid lifted a rope for us to pass and we were in Guatemala.


Entering Guatemala with Cesar

Cesar rides like we are on a race track, and we are hauling heinie. As we wind between hills and beside rivers, the views range from gorgeous to spectacular. I feel a strange pain as I let them pass un-photographed and barely appreciated. Soon enough, the surprisingly good road starts to show its true colors, then pulls a disappearing act. We suddenly find ourselves offroading among work machines, with 2 meter visibility in thick dust. You would think we would slow down eh? Cesar is convinced that he's invincible, but I'm not sure why I am playing this dangerous game.

On decent sections of the road, as it occasionally shows its face, we have a blast, but Katirga is using all she's got and then some to keep up with the german twins. I should remember to check whether if she still has any feelers left under the footpegs. I truly wringed her neck, the poor little thing.

So we arrived Panajachel after hours of non-stop, full-on riding, for a lunch break before moving on to Antigua. The fajita at the restaurant by lake Atitlan was a disaster, but the town and the view felt quite nice, so I ordered a Gallo and gave myself an excuse to let the others move on.



Lake Atitlan from Panajachel

After checking in to Hotel Monterrey for $20 a night, I headed out to explore the town with Henry, another 1200GS rider I met while we were eating by the lake. This guy flew into California from the UK, got a motorcycle license, bought the beemer, and headed to Costa Rica to practice his new riding skills on the way to immersing himself in yoga! Off the bike, in his flannel pants, button up shirt, and smart shoes, he's far too slick for the word "biker" to stick, but it's too late to stop bikerness from getting a hold of him.

It was a Friday night, yet the town was dead. The next day we took a boat trip to nearby indigenous villages. It was ok, but nothing special after seeing Chamula.

Below: Santiago





Santa Cruz

So far we both have only met really nice people in Guatemala, and this includes the indigenous people as well. I think riding down Mexico provides an excellent transition to central America. The conveniences are slowly removed, and their triviality clearly demonstrated. Warmth on the other hand, spoils you rapidly. The professional, distanced, robotic approach to life, along with all the money, is now left far behind. Possibly (but not definitely) because I don't have to deal with the difficulties these people face daily, I sincerely believe that what's found here is far more valuable than what's left behind.

On Saturday night, we dragged ourselves out once again with no hope for any activity, but found the town flooded with people. Another late night, leading to another hangover. Expedition eh?

Comitan

(DAY035 : Palenque - Comitan : 180 miles)

I've been recommended many great places in Mexico by all the people I've met, and seriously thought about visiting most of them. But when it was time to leave Palenque, I was in a very tired state of mind. Add to that the pressure of having to make it to Ushuaia before it gets impossibly cold... I headed straight down towards Guatemala border.

Later in the day I realized that I was physically ill, and not just in a bad mood or tired. All those curves went by unenjoyed, as even riding felt very tiring. And sorry, I didn't do any photo stops.

I arrived the blah city of Comitan nice and early, checked in to a decent hotel for $32, rested, and had my last tacos al pastor in Mexico.

The idea of leaving Mexico is bothering me. I've felt so much at home here. But we've got some riding to do.

Palenque

(DAY032 : Agua Azul - Palenque : 40 miles)
(DAY033-34 : Palenque)

Palenque is a short ride from Agua Azul, so there was no need to hurry even if I wanted to visit Misol-Ha on the way. Or so I thought. Shortly after heading out, I was pulling out of the road with a flat. I was really lucky that it happened close to a dirt road exit, because roads around here are not only narrow but also devoid of any shoulder, so stopping can be a recipe for becoming road-kill. (The risks I have taken to capture some of the images on this site!)

As soon as I pulled out, I became an object of interest to locals. By the time I could get the luggage off, jack her up, and remove the rear wheel, I had about 10 Tzeltal speaking spectators. As another example of what I was trying to explain earlier, their presence was making me uneasy rather than comfortable.

The good news is, I have a spare inner tube and don't need to worry about patching the darn thing. The bad news is I don't have a bead breaker, and the bead is not breaking no matter what I try.

After over an hour of frustration and almost desparation, I eventually did manage to access the inner tube, which came out tangled up like a pretzel. The tyre did not have any visible damage, and the tube was cut, not punctured. I'm afraid the tube was haphazardly stuffed in there, and destroyed itself. If you want something done right...

When I replaced the tube and fired up the compressor, it was already getting dark. "Just in time", I was thinking when I realized that the bead was now refusing to get seated properly. So I deflated it, powdered it some more, walked on it, bounced on it, and inflated again. No use.
It's now dark, and I am beat. But I repeat:
Deflate it.
Walk on it.
Jump on it.
Lever it.
Massage it.
Inflate it.
Nope. Whatever. I'll try one more time, then put it on as it is and hope that it'll seat under bike's weight.
So I repeat, and... Snap! Bingo!
Followed by... Crap! The center of the wheel goes off the cloth and touches the ground. So? The wheel bearing is now covered in dirt and tiny stones. I want to cry. Instead I pick up a tiny screwdriver and try to remove the junk one by one, under the light of my head lamp.

I bet you that that bearing will get me sometime soon, at the worst possible time and place. For now, I'm just glad that I didn't pinch the new tube, because I don't have another spare.

When Katirga's back on her feet and I'm filthier than I've ever been, it's been 3.5 hours. That's three-and-a-half hours of free, uninterrupted entertainment for my audience. I'm really glad to leave them behind, even after several friendly exchanges.

Now, I have to ride an hour of curves in the dark, in Zapatista territory. This certainly is the lowest point of this trip. I hope it remains that way, but I know it takes very little for everything to go downhill from here.



After the worst ride of the trip, I entered the ugly town of Palenque. I looked around for a hotel that could provide shelter to Katirga as well, then checked into Best Western. Talked them down to $45 from $63, and made sure I used the pool. Later that night, there was torta al pastor followed by drinks with a young couple from Holland.

I had a good rest, and had the old tube fixed after breakfast. Then, it was time to move to the cabanas at El Panchan.

Right before the main entrance to Palenque ruins, there's a dirt road to the left. Follow it and you'll find appealing accommodation options in a real jungle setting. You can sleep in a hammock, pitch a tent, rent a cabana, or even stay in a very nice room with 24hr. hot water. I wish I could reach the couple from last night to tell them their worries about bugs and snakes are baseless. My room at Margarita & Ed's cost $20, and was a pleasure to stay at.


The entrance to Margarita & Ed's

Don Mucho's, the central restaurant at El Panchan, not only has a large menu but also live music and fire shows that draw a large crowd every night.


Food & drinks at Don Mucho's...

followed by live music & shows.

Some of the sounds in the jungle are simply incredible. Particularly the cries of a resident monkey, which you could mistake for a "monster sound effect" for Lost, the series. When you see the little gal you just can't believe that sound could belong to her.

I arrived, quickly unloaded, and headed to the ruins.







Also see : Palenque vs. Tikal vs. Copan

Agua Azul

(DAY031 : San Cristobal de Las Casas - Agua Azul : 110 miles)

The ride from San Cristobal to Agua Azul is a beautiful, scenic, curvy stretch partially spoiled by sections of terrible road surface, and of course the un-announced topes.





Today, I had a series of firsts...

I had the first close call of the trip when I found an oncoming bus on my lane mid corner. What can I say, his lane was missing. Thankfully I had been in Chiapas long enough to know that the roads are full of surprises, and was slow enough to save my hide.

When I saw the dark skies ahead of me, I recognized what was awaiting: the first rain of the trip. It was brief and light, but enough to get us all muddy.




Nifty visor cleaner eh?

Then I encountered the first hostile expressions. Once from a little a boy who threw something at me, then from a guy who responded to my salute with a spit. I didn't get hit, but that incident alone was enough to alter my mood significantly. Here in Chiapas, I've learned to not expect the friendliness of the rest of Mexico as I have seen it, but hostility?

Chiapas has the largest population of indigenous people, and my impression of them so far had been that many of them are not as friendly as the Mexican people I've met so far. This is not to say that they are unfriendly, but in other parts of Mexico I felt right at home, whereas here I'm not even sure that I am welcome. They mostly seem distant and suspicious of strangers, and unless you engage them and show your friendliest side first, you may never discover that they too are friendly for the most part. That, unfortunately, does not make you feel welcome.

I arrived Agua Azul at around 3 pm, with the intention of grabbing a bite and moving on to Palenque. Then, I could take a day to come back here and also visit Misol-Ha. I was stopped at the toll gate for 6 pesos, but of course they didn't have change for a 100. I convinced the guy to collect on the way out and entered, only to arrive at another toll gate with nothing in between! Now I had to pay 10 pesos, and yes you guessed it right, they didn't have change either. Thankfully(!) the shack nearby sells bottled water for twice its normal price, and has change.

Being Turkish and all, I rode through the parking lot, on to the walkway, and parked her under the shade of trees right in front of a restaurant, just as any Mexican brother would have. But if Victor hadn't suggested, I never would've thought of rolling her on to the grass, all the way to the edge of water! Can't do that yet though, as a couple of chicks are sunbathing there now.

Victor is the waiter at the restaurant. He suggests that I check out the cascades while I'm already here, and move on to Palenque the next day. Doable. The best part is, I can camp right by the water, with Katirga right beside my tent. Must do. Done.







In the evening, everyone's gone except me and a few other campers. At the only open restaurant, I run into Victor and two of his friends and join them for a drink. They're speaking in Tzeltal, and probably are a few beers ahead of me, so the level of communication is next to nil. But then, Victor puts his english to use: "Are you my friend?" (Yes Victor.) "So you will buy me a beer?"

After a good night's sleep I woke up in a wet tent. I think I underestimated the spray from the falls, and there's no way it will dry before I pack it in. Shortly after I emerged from my tent, really early in the morning, 3 guys in an SUV jumped the pavement and on to the grass, nearly landing on my camp! Then they got out, completely wasted and still with whiskey in hand. Danger lurks in the most unexpected places around here. Luckily they didn't show interest in my presence, and left after a short while.

After a watered down cup of coffee, I headed to the cascades again, but with shorts on :)

Chamula & Zinacantan

(DAY030 : San Juan, Chamula & San Lorenzo, Zinacantan )

On my last day in San Cristobal I took a guided tour to two nearby indigenous (Mayaesan) Tzotzil villages: San Juan of Chamula, and San Lorenzo of Zinacantan municipalities. The tour was easy to sign-up for: just show up under the big cross in front of the cathedral at around 9:15 am, and Raul will know why you're there. Everyday, anyday.

Chamula is unique for its autonomus status, and has significantly more distinct religious / cultural qualities. The village itself does not reveal much other than powerty, but a visit to the church gives one a very good idea of what "ancient" means in the context of civilizations, and how strange the results of its encounter with "modern" cultures can be.

Chamulas are "Traditional Catholic", and have a big church. I wish I could share the sights of women kneeled on the pine-needle covered church floor, burning candles, praying in Tzotzil, then wiping one another with a live chicken (which sucks up all the evil), and finally breaking the chicken's neck to dispose of all that vacuumed evil. With the smell of incense, hundreds of candle flames flickering like a field of fire, and the completely unfamiliar sound of Tzotzil, the dim, furnitureless church has a more spiritual feeling than any you may have seen. The only thing out of place in this time capsule is the row of statues in boxes, depicting white skinned Christian figures. Had a priest been allowed in here, he too would be equally out of place. As out of place as the American tourist in our group who kept saying "but this is not catholicism". Dude, we know. So? Sue them.

So, they kicked him out of their town. No, not the tourist. The priest who tried to impose something closer to actual catholicism!

Although not enough to satisfy our catholic tourist, Zinacantan has more successfully been christianized, so (to me at least) their church looked just like any church. Apparently one of the saints rank higher than Christ here, so our guy was having fits. That's when I deserted my "English speaking" group and joined Raul's to hear some Spanish. After some Posh (a potent yet smooth Mayan drink) I could easily understand it all!


Heading to Chamula in Raul's van


With the friendliest person in Chiapas


The market in San Juan Chamula


The market in San Juan Chamula


Tzotzil girl in Zinacantan weaving


She probably is not the next Monet


Her mom getting the tortillas ready


Rich man's home in Zinacantan. You can tell who works in the US.

San Cristobal de las Casas

(DAY025 : Tuxtla Gutierrez - San Cristobal de las Casas : 70 miles)
(DAY026-29 : San Cristobal de Las Casas)

It was 4:30 pm when I left the shop, 5 when I got on the road to San Cristobal LC. Although the sun was already low and I had 40 miles to go, I skipped the toll road. Everyone at the shop was raving about the free road. For good reason. Initially the trucks and busses called for extra care, but as I climbed there were fewer and fewer of them. Soon, we were in sportbike riding mode, having a blast.

Believe it or not, riding a 300kgs, 30hp thumper here can be as much fun as carving corners on a real sportbike. I did wish on almost every corner exit that Katirga had some power, but if she had, her suspension and brakes would fall short, making it less fun and more risky. The only thing that felt at ease was the new Metzeler. Actually, it still seems to have chicken strips, but you can grind pegs only so much.

Although I couldn't get a good look at it, the view from the road is beautiful too. But as you climb, the temperature drops from the city's 30 C to a really cold 10 C, and by the time you arrive you are frozen. (Unless you can pause the fun to put something on)

San Cristobal de las Casas is made of narrow one way streets lined with colorful houses, and of course a big church in the center. I checked in to a family run place for $13. No heater of course, so I'm back into the thermal liners of my ride gear. There is hot water, but getting undressed when you can see your breath sucks.

My first day in town was spent updating the journals, backing up data, etc. Last night, my second night here, was at a bar with good live music. I think I may stay here a while. RIP the schedule!

Part 2:

I ended up staying in San Cristobal (dadada) for 6 nights! Days went by walking it's streets and taking photos; nights mostly having Micheladas at Revolution. Revolution always seems to have something going on, but the night group Son de Mazunte played there, it was the place to be. If you didn't like Afro-Cuban rhythms, you surely would after that night. Hey Pacha! You guys rule!

In San Cristobal, good coffee is hard to come by although the coffee itself is not to blame. Mexican food in the touristic part of town is simply bad, and trying an "Italian Pizza" was a mistake. Others may find some good food as the place is full of restaurants, but I really can't stand eating in claustrophobic indoor settings, and that rules out 90% of the options. I hated my windowless room as well, but it seemed like that was the standard in this town. Did I mention the city is at 2000m altitude and it gets really cold when the sun is down? It was here that I couldn't help staying for 6 nights. Imagine how cute it had to be! Or just check out the pictures, which I doubt do it any justice.

Tuxtla Gutierrez

(DAY024 : Mazunte - Tuxtla Gutierrez : 340 miles)

When I was looking for a tyre in Puerto Escondido, I got a serious warning at the Yamaha service. The winds you encountered, they said, are nothing compared to what you'll face if you head to Tuxtla, pointing to photos of 18 wheelers on their sides. "Go to Oaxaca instead, you can find a tyre there." Trouble is, I have to go through Tuxtla to reach San Cristobal LC.

The demon showed up on the way to Salina Cruz. It got honestly scary again, but thankfully not as bad as the one we tackled on the way to Puerto Escondido. At least it had a stable direction. When I asked for advice at a gas station near Sto. Domingo Tehuantepec, they said I should continue because this was nothing compared to what it usually is in December & January. It wasn't until I reached Juchitan that things were back in control, whatever that means. I hope Peter's gotten through without problems as well, I have no idea where he is now.


At the Chiapas border.

Right after the Chiapas border, it was all spectacular once again. The curves reappeared, the surface was fine (for a while), and the light golden. When I entered Tuxtla Gutierrez it was 6 pm. I headed towards the center checking for a place to stay, then pulled into an Applebee's thinking I missed filling it up the American way. The food was, as expected, delicious, heavy, and excessive. The dessert was simply fatal. When all was done with, I felt fat, guilty, and stupid, all at once. Maybe I hadn't missed it at all then?

When I stopped to eat, I pretty much knew where I was staying. The hotels and motels were quoting between $40 to $70 a night for average to below average rooms. I had a feeling the first motel I saw would be a much better deal, but I needed to wait until the time was right for check-in, because there, rooms are rented on a 12 hr. basis.

Auto-motel La Isla has a dot-matrix sign at its entrance, telling you which room you should proceed to. There, your hostess(?) meets you to complete your check-in discreetly. Of course, I wanted to see the room first, as I couldn't assume this one to be as good as the one in La Paz. It wasn't. It was many times more stylish! And it was for $27 per 12 hrs.


Auto-Motel La isla. You think I couldn't have captured the screen properly?

Katirga just loves these motels.


(DAY025 - morning)

After coffee, I spent a short while locating a place that carries a suitable tyre. The Yamaha dealership only had Pirellis and referred me to Motos-Kawasaki. There, when I asked for a Kenda, Degoberto commented in a way that requires no Spanish to understand. He pretended to spit on his palm, then slapped and slid his hands against each other, meaning a Kenda will slip on a spit! It's probably true too. If a tyre lasts long, that's because it's made of a harder rubber compound, and a harder compound equates to less grip. Still, they checked availability and pricing for me. Eventually, I got the German Metzelers for about $110. They cost only $32 more than Kendas, and were readily available.


Katirga getting shiny new shoes.


The team at Motos-Kawasaki.
[ 11a. Poniente Norte No. 629, Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas. - Tel: (961) 61 116 15 ]


I don't care what anyone says. Next time I want to be on a Yamaha.

Already working on the wheel, I said (gestured) that maybe we should adjust the chain as well. I knew it did not require it as I check it occasionally, but after 4000 miles it could use some tightening right? Wrong. It was tight as day one. The guys wouldn't believe I haven't touched that chain since I bought the bike. No lubricating, no adjustment, nada. A little magic called Scottoiler. Why did I not try this before?

Mazunte

(DAY022 : Puerto Escondido - Mazunte : 60 miles)
(DAY023 : Mazunte)


Since Zihuatanejo, I get these coconut juice cravings once in a while. Good thing there are as many juice stands as topes. Well, almost. (Look ma, I'm a 5'4" giant !!!)

After heading south from Puerto Escondido, it's only a half hour ride to Puerto Angel exit. Once there, the road curves up north and takes you to Zipolite and Mazunte. All have equally nice beaches, but Mazunte appeared more social, so I ended up pitching my tent there, at the far end of the beach.


Puerto Angel


Zipolite was a bit too sleepy, or... You know what I mean.


So, we pulled into Mazunte.

Below: Mazunte




Fast forward the swim and the beers, for a spectacular view of the sunset, I took a 15-20 minute hike to Punta Cometa, following small groups of people. This certainly is a must do thing here.

Below: Punto Cometa





It tires even me to mention that I was again at a bar or club for the night, but I do it anyways so I can remember these days as the time when I was young ;) The highlight (or low point depending on perspective) of this one was triggered by Ivan's girlfriend asking me to dance and me telling her that I can't. She insisted that anyone can, so I started dancing, then she turned around and told her sister cracking up: "No puede bailar!" Now how do you say "I told you so" in Spanish?

Mazunte is a very laid back place, and that's what I did the next day myself. During the day, I also met Eric, the owner of one of the two mysterious, California registered KLRs. Turns out he and a friend set out from the US for a similar trip to Ushuaia as well, and stopped in Mazunte for a night. Had that night not been three years ago, I'd have said let's head out together in the morning!


One of the two mysterious, faded KLRs.

At night... I watched the stars a bit and went to bed early!

At sun up, pelicans were chasing the fish, fishermen the pelicans, and seagulls the fishermen. Well, ok, in essence everybody was chasing the fish, but only pelicans seemed to know where they were. It was a lot of commotion and fun until one of the boys clearing a net threw a fish at me. Slap! Right on the lens. Especially nice as the UV filter was off to avoid flare. I guess I can just clean it with my shirt from now on.

Below: Early Mazunte morning.

Puerto Escondido

(DAY020 : Acapulco - Puerto Escondido : 280 miles)
(DAY021 : Puerto Escondido)

A sign of being spoiled for sure, the ride from Acapulco felt dull and boring. Less greenery, less color intensity, less curves...

But of course, not any less "topes". Topes are the speed bumps in all shapes and sizes that fully cover Mexico. In fact, had they marked the tope-free stretches instead of topes, they could have saved on signs. Well, they did actually, by not marking some of them. Surprise! Ka-Boom! If I were on any other bike with less suspension travel, I'm sure I would've been catapulted off the thing by now.

Aside from the ride, the mood of the day wasn't too bright. Was it being alone on the new year's eve? Was it the bad meal on my way out? Was it the "to dos" that were piling up? I can't tell you. But I did know that this could not be a blast all the way. Time to pay the dues?

It was still very hot, but I kept the jacket on. Then, it turned unpleasantly windy and dusty.

As I was approaching Pinotepa Nacional, I saw another loaded two-wheeler cruising ahead. Shortly afterwards, I was chatting with Peter from Denmark over cold sodas. He too had set out from LA, on an earlier KLR (that doesn't burn oil) for a trip to Ushuaia. Told me he left on 20th, so he's been doing much better time than me. Yeah I know, what a shocker! ;) We should've taken a photo together. I climb on my KLR, he kneels down to sit on his!

We entered a very dusty Pinotepa Nacional and started looking for a place as the sun was getting low. When we found a really (really) basic place for $9, it was already 4:30 pm. Peter checked in as he needed to do laundry, but already in this funky mood, I really didn't want to stay in this dusty nowhere. So I told him how to find me and bolted towards Puerto Escondido 167kms (~100 miles) away.


My only photo op between Pinotepa Nacional and Puerto Escondido.

The wind worsened and for the first time became dangerous. Coco trees made it look like we were in a hurricane. Especially in one particular stretch, gusts stronger than I have ever encountered were hitting from opposite directions simultaneously, giving me a break only when I knew for sure that I was now going down.

With luck, I went through the worst part without an incident. Then, I went through a fire. Quite frequently I'd been seeing these small fires next to the road, possibly put on to burn the road side bush or something. Well this one had grown into a real one thanks to the wind, turning trees and fences into charcoal.

I arrived in Puerto Escondido at 6:40 pm, in the dark. Congratulated Katirga for the time despite all, wondered why Puerto Escondido might be so famous, then checked into a very simple motel for $11 a night. The weather is hot, so the cold water is ok.

At 6 am birds go postal and I wake up with a smile thinking I'm in San Blas or Sayulita. But shortly afterwards the tvs come on, an engine starts, and I remember this is downtown Puerto Escondido. Good news is, the crazy wind is gone.

For a resort style breakfast and internet, I headed out to the fancy Best Western on the "hotel zone". It was really nice, and really weird. It must be the continuing funk that took me there. The trip, Mexico, Katirga, all suddenly vanished, and I was zapped to another life.


Open buffet breakfast at the Best Western. (Yep, they serve laptops.)

I zapped back to downtown Puerto Escondido to look for a rear tyre, preferably a Kenda 50/50 that is said to last forever. The OEM Dunlop on Katirga is already shot, at only 3500 miles. Like Peter said, had I ignored Kawasaki's specs for pressure and run them 10 psis firmer, perhaps they would have lived longer, but now it's too late.

No luck finding a tyre, but I did get a much needed hair cut. Tightened the loosening sub-frame bolts, added more engine oil, upped the pressure in tyres, played catch-up with the journals, and another day was over without finding out why Puerto Escondido is so famous.

Next morning I packed up and left, only to exit again 2 blocks later when I realized what the fuss is about. Too busy chasing the chores I had not bothered to come this far and discover the popular beaches of Puerto Escondido. How can you stay in Puerto Escondido and not even see it? Should I stay one more night?



There is a reason for its fame after all.

I chose to hang out a bit, have breakfast, drool over the calm waters, then head for other beaches down south to compensate. This time I really wished I had someone to keep an eye on the loaded bike while I took a quick dip. Oh well...

Acapulco

(DAY018 : Zihuatanejo - Acapulco: 170 miles)
(DAY019 : Acapulco)

The weather temperature in Zihuatanejo was around 35 C during the days. On the way to Acapulco, I couldn't bring myself to wear the jacket. I wished I could have brought along it's mesh cousin as well, but I knew it was impossible. While packing this morning, when I added my new "soy biker" club sweatshirt (a present from my friends) my soft luggage ripped! Can you say "fully loaded"?

Acapulco started with a now familiar dizzying feeling. The city was full. Duh, it's the new years eve. But you can't always loose :) I somehow checked into a motel very close to where it all happens in Acapulco, for about $55 a night. The room was ok, and Katirga was right in front of my window.

Acapulco has grown significantly since I last (and first) saw it about 10 years ago. The surprise is that I think now it looks much better than the huge construction site I remember. Big city, bright lights, and an endless beach. And yes, it's hot.

Well, don't make me write it all. You know me well enough to imagine what I was up to.












On 1st of January, I had a nice long swim. It was nice because the water temperature was perfect. It had to be long because I first had to get past all the garbage waves had brought to shore. Esta bien.

Oh, and hey! Have a smashing new year baby!