Adv #7 Continued: From San Carlos to Copper Canyon and Zacatecas

So after just one night in San Carlos at the campground, we left right away for Barranca de Cobre (Copper Canyon) which lies in the middle of the state of Chihauhua. We left San Carlos thinking maybe we’d be able to get to Creel, on the north end of Barranca de Cobre that same day. As it turns out, bad roads, countless twists and turns, dirt, and gravel made that a 3 day trip instead of one!Picture shows some of the terrain we have to deal with for an entire tiring day of riding on the way to Copper Canyon. On a regular 250 pound dirt bike, this is no problem. But we’re loaded with fuel and everything we need to live, and each bike is around 650 pounds when loaded.

After 3 tough days of riding, we’re finally arriving at Copper Canyon. I had heard this would make the Grand Canyon look like a ditch. Not sure if it’s that great…but wow, is it beautiful. My little point and shoot pictures will never do it justice though.

After a couple of nights at the high-elevation of the Copper Canyon area, we were searching for lower lands, and warmer weather. (Despite having all the gear, sometimes camping out at sub-freezing temps just isn’t that fun.) Having heard weak reviews of the west coast, we decided to head town to Hidalgo del Parral, and then Durango. This is big-time Pancho Villa territory! He was from the area and was also killed here, so there’s statues and museums and such for hundreds of miles around in every city and town.

By now, we’re certain this is a great country to travel in. Sure, it’s tough in that the roads are not well kept, fuel is not always right around the corner, signs don’t always show you where to go, and its tough terrain. But the people are an absolute delight. I mean, they are welcoming us with smiles and curiosity that just warms the heart. The “Celebrity Effect” as I’ve come to think of it was certainly evident in the U.S. Everywhere we go, whether it’s filling up gas, or walking through a parking lot, people inquiring about what we’re up to, why the bikes are so loaded up, where we are from, and where we are going to. Even more so here in Mexico though, people can’t believe what they are seeing. We roll through these small towns, and everyone stops what they’re doing to see the two largest motorcycles they’ve ever seen buzzing past them. (Our bikes are huge compared to most Harleys and other common bikes.) We’re bombarded with questions and excitement that sure is strange to me, but kind of fun to be around.

We stayed in some small towns along the way like Guachochi, and then Las Nieves before finally making to Durango. After a week of really being in such remote areas, it sure is neat to be back in a big city. Ciudad de Durango is the capital of the state of Durango.

Of course, parking becomes an issue for our motorcycles when we stay in a hotel in town. So we always inquire about secured parking, or in the case of Hotel de Catradal, just pull the bikes inside the hotel before heading out for a night in the capitol city of Durango. This hotel was once an enormous house owned by some wealthy family. Worked out well for us, cause the large hallways and interior courtyard were just barely big enough to fit the bikes through. Up some small steps, and into the hotel, our bikes were safe for the night.

Such a neat time to be in Durango, too. The town square was right outside our hotel, and holiday celebrations were at their fullest. People were friendly, always willing to help. It was nice to get out and meet some local folks during dinner, but all these beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed girls are making me not want to leave!

(Practice)

Dear Mom and Dad,
I’ve decided I’m never leaving Mexico. I’m sure the enclosed picture will help explain why, and surely, you’ll understand. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me though.
Much love,
Eric

(Ha, ha....)

Originally we thought we’d head over to Mazatlan, as everybody talks about it. But…..there’s a certain turn off at this point about doing all the tourist/vacation kinds of stuff that all the Americans and Europeans do. (No offense, folks.) We’d heard good things about Zacatecas and decided to give it a shot. Still winding through beautiful country roads, hills, twists, and turns, we found a great deal on a hostel just off the town square and figured an easy way to get our luggage up to our room in the Hostel Villa Colonial. Zacatecas really is a fairly “touristy” city, but it’s full of great old architecture, markets, and even a gondola that takes you over the city. Good food, some shopping around for Christmas gifts....it was a nice city to take a day off of riding in.

(More practice)
Dear Mom and Dad,
Seriously, I’m never leaving Mexico. More enclosed pictures will help explain my reasons for staying. Thanks for your understanding.
Your son, Eric
Still in Zacatecas, little Sophia and Ananya (below) were always around the hostel that their parents owned. So shy at first, they have a quiet curiosity about the two big guys. After just a couple of clicks of the camera though, those sweet personalities come out full. So cute and so polite…these sisters were absolutely adorable. Even at that young age, when you ask “Como se llama usted?” they stand right up, extend their hand, and introduce themselves.

Adv #7: Continued - Nogales, Mx to San Carlos, Sonora, Mx.

Quite a story to tell about my first day here in Mexico. It was almost my last!

I left Green Valley, Arizona with 22,640 miles on the odometer at about 8am on Saturday, November 29th and made it to the border town of Nogales, Mx. by about 9:30 after getting gas. (The "gas" part becomes important later.) My plans were just to make it to San Carlos, Sonora, which on the west coast of mainland Mexico. (Eastern shores of the California Bay.) Peter was camped out at the Totonaka Campground for a couple of weeks with his girlfriend, Maritza, but she had gone home now and was time for us to head toward South America.

Anyone that’s been to border towns knows the scenery sure does change the second you arrive. You’ll leave a completely rural setting in the U.S., and enter quite a busy little city in each border town. I had just crossed what looked like the first checkpoint for customs into Mexico, and uh oh……the Policia started waving at me to pull over for no apparent reason on the side of the main street in Nogales.

It turns out that Lieutenant Antonio and his partner were just interested in checking out my bike, finding out where I was from and asking about where I was going. We chatted for a bit on the side of the road about Antonio’s upcoming retirement and plans to buy a Honda Goldwing to do some touring with this wife. Both guys were surprised and excited to hear that I was not just riding into Mexico for a few days, but instead embarking on a multi-month journey to the southern tip of South America.

So this is great, right? I went from thinking something was wrong to having a great conversation immediately after crossing the border. Just when we had finished talking about my bike, my riding partner, and all the countries I was about to ride through and the adventure ahead, Antonio finished our conversation by letting out a simple, but very sincere “Welcome to Mexico.” Not sure how well I can explain this, but those few words really, really got to me. I mean, there’s quite a bit of build-up and anticipation that comes with two months of planning and waiting for a trip like this to start. One day you’re excited and optimistic and the next day you’re full of nerves and mild anxiety over stories you’ve been told and the unknown road ahead. Antonio, the moment you said that, this adventure became real to me. I was there. I was in Mexico. And I was excited….

So we took the photo together that you see above, said goodbye, and I continued down the main street of Nogales. It was a Saturday morning, and wow were the streets busy. Shop owners were tending to the front of their stores, people were crossing, walking, and riding all over, and cars and buses swarmed all around me. It’s a crazy drive. But I was smiling. I mean, I was beaming with a smile inside my helmet so much that my cheeks were getting sore. This was so exciting. I was here…in Mexico! That perfect welcoming I was just given had me floating high as a kite through these crazy streets, and I can’t remember feeling that good in a long, long time. It was like being in love and on adrenaline at the same time, and I felt untouchable.

But suddenly as I was cruising along, I noticed a strange reaction from my bike as I twisted the throttle. It seemed a little weak for second there, but it was still running. Check the choke switch….okay that’s good. Try it again. Same thing. It was bogging and getting weak, but barely still running, and cars and buses were whizzing all around me while I was in the middle lane of the crazy main street in downtown Nogales. Again with the twist of the throttle, and it’s weaker this time like its dying. Oh my…..I can’t believe this is happening! Barely coasting, I forced my way over to the side of the road in front of some little storefront, and stopped to check things out. Just as I got to the side, the engine died completely. And it would not start again.

Okay…is this seriously happening? I had just crossed the border into Mexico less than 1 mile ago!! I mean, I bought this bike with 12,000 miles on it, and drove it another 11,000 miles myself so far this year with absolutely no troubles. It’s in great condition, the valves had all just been adjusted, carburetors synchronized, and I had just ridden another 300 miles around Green Valley and down to Nogales since that maintenance. But now I’m literally less than 1 mile into Mexico, and it decides to choke up and stop running? This cannot be real. This is not happening.

It sounded like it wasn’t getting fuel, so I looked at all the fuel valves, and I know I had just filled up north of the border. So I’m pulling my mind apart in front of this store, trying to figure out what on earth I’m going to do. Who could I call, where could I take my bike to, how would I get it there…..and what is wrong with this thing!? To add stress to the situation, some of the locals are gathering around, getting curious about what was going on. They’re saying things in Spanish to me, and at that point, all I could really think to say was “Lo siento, no hablo Español.”

After a few minutes, a guy named Nieto came out of the storefront, and fortunately was able to speak some English with me. He mentioned right away that he knew of a motorcycle repair shop just down the road, and he could take me there to see if they can help. But what would I do with my bike here in downtown Nogales? I mean, I’m not comfortable leaving my bike alone in most cities in the U.S., so I’m not much more comfortable leaving it alone in a border town in another country where I don’t speak the language. It would be especially unsettling to leave it there with my backpack, tent, and luggage boxes all strapped onto it, easily removed with a couple of tools and there for the taking. Nieto assured me that the bike would be okay, and that he could take me to the shop. That means I’m getting in the car with someone I just met, in a country I just arrived into, on a trip I really just started. I was full of hesitation to say the least.

Instead of just leaving the bike on the roadside, Nieto asked a local shop owner named Frank if he would let me push the bike into his entrance way, just behind a small wall and off the immediate street. Frank kindly obliged, but that meant my bike would be concealed from the main road. Does that open the opportunity further for people to pick apart and load up my bike while I go to seek help? I was really, really concerned about this, but saw no other option at that point. A feeling came over me though that I’ll never forget. “Maybe this is a sign for me. A big, bright, clear sign that will determine whether or not I’m supposed to go on this trip.” I figured if I could trust my bike and luggage alone there in Nogales, if I could trust Nieto who I’d only known for 5 minutes at that point, and if I could get my bike problem figured out so I’m on the road again, then it was meant to be. If something happens to my bike or luggage, or something is really seriously wrong with my bike, maybe I would reconsider this trip.

So after one last try to start the bike, Nieto and I pushed it back into Frank’s garage area, parked it, and I did my best to lock thing up on it. With my bike hopefully in a safe spot, we walked around back to Nieto’s truck for a quick ride to the motorcycle shop. (Okay, I’m a big boy, and I see nothing about Nieto that says he isn’t just sincerely offering help. But still, I’m hitching rides from strangers minutes after arriving in Mexico?) A short 2-minute drive further into Nogales, just off the main street, and we were there at the Moto Hercules motorcycle shop talking with the owner, Ignacio. Fortunately, Ignacio and a couple of his mechanics were available to go for a ride to my bike and see about fixing it there in Frank’s garage. In the event it needed to be fixed at the garage though, they had loaded up their pickup truck with all the gear we’d need to move the bike.

Nieto had other things to do, so after my most sincere thanks for the help, he left me with Ignacio and went on his way. About 25 very stressful minutes had passed since I had left my bike there alone in Frank’s garage, and I rode with Ignacio and his guys back to where it was parked nervously hoping that everything was still there and okay. Traffic was taking forever, and all I could do was put the picture in my mind of what the bike looked like as I left it. (“Is my bike there, or is everything gone already?”) As we arrived, the most incredible sense of relief came over me. My bike and all my luggage was still there and just fine. Probably the longest 25 minutes of my life.

First thing Ignacio wanted to do was check out the fuel situation, so we opened the caps, looked around, checked fluid levels, etc. He suggested I try starting it again, and much to our surprise: It worked! The bike was running like a champ. Still, we waited a few minutes while it was running, just to make sure it wasn’t a come-and-go problem. It was running just fine with no signs of a problem, but still, we thought it best to drive it back to his shop and give it a good look-over.
Back at Ignacio's shop (picture with Ignacio above) he had the idea from past experience that sometimes an over-filled fuel tank can create a vacuum inside, and that suction can keep the fuel from dropping down to the fuel pump at the bottom. I had heard of this before too, and based on the way my bike was running at that point, I could see no other explanation for why it had stopped running 1 mile after I had crossed into Mexico, and about 3 miles after I had topped off the fuel. We figured opening the gas caps or tilting the bike to the side there in Frank’s garage might have been all it needed to release that vacuum and give it fuel again.

Well, this was the sign I was looking for. My bike was fine (although we thought it’d be best for me to ride around the shop for a while before embarking on a 5 hour ride through remote areas en route to San Carlos.) Ignacio refused my offer to pay for services, despite the considerable amount of time he and his employees had spent with me. So between the greeting of Lieutenant Antonio, the help of Nieto and Frank, and extreme generosity of Ignacio, I had just had the most bizarre, but incredible and surprising welcoming to Mexico I could have ever imagined. I did a few laps around Ignacio’s shop for 10 minutes to make sure the bike was okay, (which it was) and set out southbound for the Mexico customs office and San Carlos beyond that. Despite about a 2-hour total delay, I did make it to the campground in San Carlos just as the sun was setting. My friend Peter waiting for me, it was great to see him again share this story of what it took for me to get there.

Antonio, Nieto, Frank, and Ignacio, if you read this, I can’t thank you enough. Not only helping me through that motorcycle situation, but for setting an example of the type of hospitality I would soon find exists everywhere I’ve been in Mexico. As I write this, I’m over 1 week and 1000 miles traveled through many towns and 4 states, and it’s been an absolute pleasure that I’m sure will continue as I head south. Thank you, most sincerely.

Adv #7 Continued....from So. Cal through AZ and crossing into Mexico

(Above: Peter and I had a little "planning session" in the kitchen in Arizona. We've just tried to outline a basic idea of what we want to do and see. Nothing too specific...)

The clock is winding down, and tomorrow I cross the border into Mexico through Nogales! My buddy Peter has been down in Sonora for a couple of weeks vacationing with his girlfriend who flew in from Italy, and I’ve been stationed at my family’s winter house in Green Valley, AZ. This delay in departure was a great opportunity for me to get ready for the trip. Planning for new tenants in my house back in Atlanta, getting my bike ready with maintenance and spare parts, registering with embassies, getting shots and medications, trying to learn Spanish, etc, etc. Quite a long list has been chiseled away at, making even less for me to be concerned with on this adventure to South America.

Many people have been pointing out to me the inherent dangers of driving through Latin America, and I truly appreciate their reminders. Aside from the obvious traffic concerns, it seems nearly everyone has heard stories of terror, tourists being targeted, hi-jackings, shootings, police impersonations, etc. I’m aware that these kinds of things do happen where I’m going. But I’m also aware that they happen here in the U.S. and pretty much every country in the world for that matter. I’m confident that gut instinct, smarts, and my (our) own intuition will keep us safe. Thousands of tourists pass through these countries every year and return home safe and sound. (We only hear about the scary stories, right?) Anyway, I’ve developed a certain mindset about the troubles we could run into. It may sound a bit too hard-ass or care-free…..but my view on the matter is: “Hey, if that’s how it’s going to happen…..so be it.” At least I was willing to give it a shot.

Much consideration goes into continuing with this free-flowing adventure lifestyle. With all this talk about global economic crisis and the state of the job market here in the U.S., part of me says I should hunker down and make as much money as I can right now. For many reasons though, I’ve decided I’m still pressing forward and following my heart instead of just jumping back into the workforce grind I’d been into since college. (Plus, I really don’t want to continue with the type of work I was doing anyway.) For many reasons, maybe my timing is just perfect for taking a break and do something I really want to do. Maybe travels like this with some work along the way will lead me to the type of career that I want to work? While things are so messy in the U.S., it seems like a fine time to learn about other countries and other languages. No, I’m not saying I’m abandoning the United States; but with situations like we’re in right now, maybe I’m working on a back-up plan by learning a 2nd language and continue growing my international network of friends and contacts.

An unexpected benefit to living this lifestyle is that I’ve learned how to live and appreciate having very little. Only in these past couple of weeks have I had the luxury of staying in a home with television, washing machines, a dishwasher, etc. Aside from these past couple of weeks here in this house, I’ve only had access to the gear packed with me or what the campground I’m staying at offers. So far, it’s a lifestyle I really enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of total financial stability, and I'm not suggesting I want to have very little in life. But I’m also realizing more and more how little I needed the fully furnished townhome, the entertainment system, the DVD’s, all the conveniences, etc. By not having all of that “commitment” around me, I don’t feel obligated to use it, and it’s really freed me up to explore and discover other things, people, and places.

I definitely plan on picking up some work wherever I end up (probably Chile or Argentina.) Right now, I’d like to do some more adventure-guiding work internationally, so there’s another reason for me to immerse myself in Latin America and learn to speak Spanish. I’m applying with a few companies that have a presence in South America, and if all goes as I want them to, I’ll spend at least the bulk of 2009 down there working and traveling. If nothing is happening there for me, I’ll find something to do somewhere else in the world. I’m constantly reminded that English teachers are needed in many countries, so at the very least I'm sure I can fall back on that. "Okay, kids, can you say 'motorcycle???'"

A couple of the recent pics:

(Below: Having my parents come all the way out to Green Valley just for a visit sure was nice. Hadn't seen them since the pictures posted back in June of this year, when I rode up to Wisconsin for Father's Day.)

Dad, for being a non-golfer, that was some golf performance you put forward that day!

Like I was saying, I left my buddy Steve in southern California, and headed east along the border to Arizona. What a great combination of timing and location that I was able to visit with Aunt Sue and Uncle Denny (AS & UD) at the family house in Green Valley, and then stay there for a couple of weeks to tie things up before the trip. And as a great surprise, my parents flew in for a few days as well, we got to play some golf, and enjoy the beautiful autumn weather in southern Arizona! I think Aunt Sue (on my motorcycle above) was really hoping we’d ride one of those long wheelie’s past the Community Center to show off for everyone on the shuffle board court, but we decided to take it easy and play it safe on our cruise around the neighborhood.

Next post is coming to you from somewhere in Mexico......

Adv #7 Continued....finishing the Pacific Coast Ride

So I had to finish riding down the Pacific Coast Highway, right? My season with Suntrek was finished, I had all of my riding/camping gear ready to go, and I met up with my buddy Chris Brockland who flew to San Francisco from Milwaukee just to rent a BMW 1200 GS and spend a week riding around with me and Peter. Date was October 19th.

We started with a quick run through San Francisco. Oh, and yes, I invested in a new helmet and jacket. Better stuff, more appropriate for the type of situations I'll get into down south.

We even had the chance to meet up with another old high school buddy of ours, Eric Baird. Eric, his wife, and two cute kids live just north of San Francisco. Good news is, Eric has very long arms which made this self-made group shot so possible and well aligned. Chris and I rode up to Mendocino County and Mendocino National Forest to chose a camp spot….. Unfortunately, Chris didn’t realize the people at REI had put the wrong size sleeping mat into his bag for him….
And then first thing in the morning, I got a call from another high school buddy, Jason Bolz, who had just read my blog and noticed that we was close to us while vacationing in Napa with his girlfriend, Katie. Sure enough, a quick & beautiful ride toward each other, and we were able to grab some lunch together in Calistoga. Small world….

So here we are the next morning, having caught a late camp spot on the Avenue of Giants to sleep amongst the beautiful Redwood trees with Peter. Good to see my riding buddy again after being apart for a couple of weeks!

Speaking of beautiful Redwoods, why not stop and give one a hug? They are so impressive….
….and they are SO tall. Most often, over 100 meters tall.

Our first day for the three of us riding together would prove to be one of those truly great days of riding. I had met Mike Alumbaugh back in August at the motorcycle shop, and we had talked about riding “The Lost Coast” as it is called in Northern California. The Pacific Coast Highway, (Highway 1) actually starts inland quite a distance, leaving a portion of the coastline practically untouched by cars, buildings, roads, etc. Mike was a local from the Shelter Cove area, he happened to know about the “Usal Road,” a dirty, rutty mess of a road that winds through the trees along the coastline. Never would have found the road on our own, so Mike joined us for what would be our first 33 miles headed south.
Quick shot of what part of the Usal Road looks like most of the way. It certainly gets more rutty, rocky, and difficult than this alot of the time though. On the big bikes, I guess we only averaged 15 mph.
Quick shot of what Chris looks like running back to his bike after a brief “dismount.” (Sorry Chris…had to : ) His BMW 1200 GS was a heck of a big bike to have a first off-road experience on!

The entire USAL Road ran along the coast, and occasionally we were able to pop out in the sun for a group shot.

Some other riders we came across (Kirk and Fritz from near Lake Tahoe) told us about a Navarro Ridge Road, which starts just south of Fort Bragg and winds for about 20 miles through the redwoods. More beautiful trails, and of course more abandoned cars like this one. Unbelievable the places some of these goofballs try to drive a car! Towing it out of there would have cost more than this piece of junk was worth, so I guess it will sit there for some time….

Nice little lunch spot on the beach right near the end of Navarro Ridge Road.

And here’s our lunch spot the next day in Point Reyes

Later that day, Hwy 1 merges into 101, which is essentially the Golden Gate Bridge on the north end of San Francisco. Yea, I’ve been there about a dozen times in 2008…..but it’s just a great photo opp!

Last night of camping with Chris, we stayed at a State Park just south of Santa Cruz. Sad to see you leave us buddy, but I hope you had a great week, and find another way to have such riding adventures. I know it got into your blood more than it was before……
Peter and I camped one more night about 45 minutes north of Monterey on the coast. He had different travel ideas for the next few days than I did, so he went east to see Yosemite, Death Valley, and Joshua Tree NP (places I had seen quite a bit of this year) and I continued down the coast. Poor thinking on my part, I forgot Matt Appel, my tent-mate and good buddy from Suntrek training was staying on his boat in Moss Landing just 20 minutes from where Peter and I last camped! So glad you caught my phone call Matt, and that we were able to hang out for a bit. It’s a vicious flex-pose like this one that gets you ready to chase the sea lions off the dock in the next picture!

I was a little late for the shot, but Matt charged them, and about 4000 lbs of sea lion jumped off into the water, barking and getting all testy with us.

Further south, the Pacific Coast Highway gets high enough that the intense fog is still below you.

And eventually, I made it to Newport Beach to visit with my old buddy Steve Tracy for a few days. Steve and I got to know each other through a mutual friend, Scott Parker, and we ended up becoming good friends when living by each other in Austin a few years ago. Pic is of his place, only about 30 yards from the sand of Newport Beach!
Exciting times....Steve had just ordered a nice new Trek Madone 5.2 road bike. Brought back some memories of riding with my Atlanta friends as we had fun putting it together.So on Friday, October 31st, I headed out for the rest of the West Coast ride. It was nice to ride through towns like Laguna Beach, and of Course San Diego. But this part of the Pacific Coast Highway isn't nearly as beautiful as what you see up north around Big Sur and the Bay Area. I took the last exit before the border....

So I'm not crossing the border at this time, but if you look closely, you can see the Mexican flag just above my thumb and just over the border from where I'm standing. That's it! From the farthest northwest point in Washington (Rialto Beach) to the farthest southwest point in California just below Chula Vista, I've ridden the entire west coast with my KTM.

I just heard from Peter that his girlfriend from Italy is flying to Phoenix November 15 through 23. Happy for him, but bummed that those plans pretty much wipe out our chance to go watch the Baja 1000.

In the meantime, I'm headed to Green Valley, AZ for November 5 through 9 or so, as my folks are flying in to visit while my Aunt Sue and Uncle Dennis are vacationing at Grandma's house there. I'm of course bummed about not being able to have Thanksgiving in Miami with the family, or Christmas in Milwaukee, so at least we get to visit now. More to be written once I leave for AZ!