Adv #7 Continued: Vera Cruz, Oaxaca, and that little piece of plastic

After two nights at Playa Norte, we headed further down the gulf coast to Vera Cruz. Nice town much like the others, but all big cities really just kind of seem the same at this point. We’re both most interested in riding, great scenery, and meeting people, but not so much into museums and that stuff. Vera Cruz was nice for the holiday parades and street-side entertainment, but only one night was spent here.

The ruins of Mexico did sound interesting to us, so we set our sites on the Monte Alban ruins west of Oaxaca at the recommendation of our friends. The two-day drive gave us an overnight stay in Tuxtepec, which really didn’t catch our eye too much. But the drive the next day was one to remember. Starting at about 500 feet in altitude, 2 hours into the ride, we were at 9500 feet on one of the more beautiful and twisty rides we’ll ever have. It was also another step into what we would consider “jungle-like” atmosphere, and it was 6 solid hours of riding up and down and around countless turns, leaving me so exhausted at the finish I had to take a quick nap when we finally pulled in Oaxaca. (See pic.) We found a great value at Hotel Florida about a 5-minute walk from the Oaxaca city centre, and really enjoyed the market, main plaza, and the Monte Alban ruins just west of the city. I even did some of my Christmas shopping at the city market which was quite a site.

Just as I was starting to think “not much interesting has happened lately,” that all changed.

We were leaving Oaxaca for the southern coast (Port Angel) when we rode past a motorcycle dealership and I told Peter I wanted to stop in and buy some extra oil. Next thing we knew, the owner of the shop, Juan Cajiga (who everyone calls “Don Juan” out of traditional respect) was chatting with Peter about letting us use his shop to change out a fork seal on Peter’s bike. So they quickly got started on the job, and Juan also said it was okay if I used some tools and space to change my steering bearings I had been meaning to get to. And that’s when it all started…

Not only were we given the space and the tools to work with, but Juan told his employees to work along with us and help where we needed. “The Maestro” as we came to call him was considered the best mechanic in the shop, and he was there for both of us, pulling apart the bikes and getting things going. When we inquired about how much all these services would cost us, Juan pretty much waved off the question explaining that it was all on him. (Pretty good deal!) To further the enormous display of hospitality, every moment I wasn’t touching my bike, Juan had one of his other guys cleaning my bike, polishing my windshield, cleaning parts, or doing something to get us set up for our trip. And if there was a part or lubricant we needed that he didn’t have? Within a minute, the delivery guy was on his way out the door to get it and back right away with the right stuff. We knew we’d get to use a shop somewhere along the trip, but this was hospitality to the fullest. We learned that Juan has a few other businesses in Oaxaca, but you could see that he spent most of his time here at the shop around the cars and motorcycles he loves. In a very rare coincidence, Juan actually rides the KTM Adventure just like I do. (Had not seen another bike like this in 3 weeks on the road in Mexico at that point.)

Juan also alerted the local BMW Riders Club (25 club members in Oaxaca) about Peter from BMW Germany being there, and sure enough, a bunch of guys started showing up on their bikes. Because there is no BMW dealership there in Oaxaca, Peter ended up doing some mini-clinics about their bikes, adjusting this, explaining that, etc. Meanwhile, Juan was talking about quitting work early to have a barbeque so we could meet the rest of the BMW Riders. This was so great!

This is particularly fun for me, cause I still love this kind of shop work. Back in high-school, I was quite crafty when it came to mechanical things, and I always loved working with my hands and fixing stuff. (I even had a mullet : ) So it really feels great again to get to do this kind of work and see things get fixed. I mean, I hadn’t packed a bearing in like 15 years…so as I’m doing so, all sorts of names and faces from the past bounced back into my mind. (Shop teachers, classmates, cars and motorcycles I used to own, etc.) And to think that I got to do this in a Mexican shop, thousands of miles from home. Pretty neat day.

We figured we’d be on our way or ready for a barbeque by early afternoon, but Peter wanted to replace the leaking O-ring around his oil fill cap. Juan was working with Peter pretty much the whole time, talking about bikes, business, helping out where he could. But somehow the they accidentally broke the oil cap trying to put the new O-ring on.

BMW parts are not readily available in Oaxaca, so Juan started making phone calls to the local BMW riders trying to see who had that cap available for Peter to use. We waited around for some riders to show up in that tough traffic, and the wrong cap was brought to us a couple of times, (oops) so eventually The Maestro rigged up some way for the broken cap to still work.

When they tried putting on the broken cap though, a small piece of plastic broke off and fell into the engine. Now, anyone that knows engines knows that is a pretty bad thing to have happen. Such incredible speed, pressure, and heat around moving parts cannot even have something as simple as plastic get in the way. So off came the valve covers, and out came the flashlights, looking for that little piece of plastic. Eventually we were able to see it, buried below the timing chain on the left side of the engine, but getting it out was another task. Tipping the bike to the side, poking at it with tools, trying to flush oil through it…nothing seemed to work. We worked on this until 9 in the evening, when all the employees had gone home and even Juan’s wife had shown up wondering what was going on. I mean, this is quite a decision to make here: Should just run the engine and hope its okay, or dismantle it until we can get that plastic out?

Knowing we’d be there one more night, we decided to grab a late dinner together and work on it some more in the morning. Juan told us to leave our stuff there, and Juan drove us back to the hotel we thought we’d checked out of. (Of course, Juan insisted on paying for dinner. Toughest part of all this is that he felt partially responsible for breaking the cap. It could have happened to anyone though!)

In the shop the next morning, we tried for a couple more hours to flush that plastic out and get ready to go. Eventually though, we decided to fill it up with fresh oil again and hope that the plastic would never become an issue in damaging the engine. Between tying that issue up though, and changing Peter’s rear tire, we figured it was silly to start riding just a few hours before dark, so we decided to stay for our fourth night in Oaxaca. Done with all the work by about 2pm, Juan had ordered some food delivered for us, and the 3 of us sat there in the lobby of the dealership watching motorcycle stunts and Travis Pastrana motorcycle acrobatics on the flatscreen. (Again, being treated like royalty while everyone else around us was working.) We simply had to do something to thank Juan for this ongoing generosity, so that evening, we instisted on buying him dinner and he accepted.

But in his generous nature one more time, we got a phone call from Juan while back at the hotel, saying we were invited to his company’s Christmas party instead of buying him dinner. Wow….I mean, he was really, really making us feel like we’re part of the gang around Oaxaca now, getting to meet his family, serving our third meal in 2 days, etc. We grabbed a taxi from the hotel, and made it to the party just fine. And sure enough, he had one of his employees waiting in the street to pay the cab driver before we could even get out our wallets. You’ve got to be kidding me! Everything short of a red carpet was being put out for us, and the food and drink inside the party was absolutely outstanding to.

I didn’t get any pictures of the party, but since it was there at one of his businesses (a plastic-bag printing company) we ended the night with a beer-in-hand tour of the operation and his car collection out in the garage. You can see a bunch of old classics here, and I’d say my favorite was that VW bus. It is in amazing condition with all original parts.

Sure enough, Juan drove us back to the hotel after the party, and we said we’d stop by one more time on the way out of town in the morning. Peter had the idea of making a couple of photo-collages for The Maestro and Juan to document our few days together, and we brought the gifts with a good bottle of mezcal to the shop in the morning as planned. It was a little sad as we exchanged contact info and reminded each other of the “my house is your house” policy. Juan sure did make the highlight reel in our journey, and his generosity and friendliness will not be forgotten. What a great experience. Thanks, Juan.

Adv #7 Continued: Zacatecas thru Aguascalientes to the Gulf Coast

Next it was south to Aguascalientes, just a day’s drive south of Zacatecas and one of the larger cities we’ve seen thus far. I know this is strange to point out, but for some reason here more than anywhere else, people were amazed to see me. (Sounds weird, I know.) Parked outside the grocery store before heading to the hotel, local folks were coming up to me left and right asking to have their picture taken with me, asking my name, wanting my autograph (yes, seriously) and everyone just seemed amazed by our presence. Okay, I don’t look like everyone else around there, but this was no small city and I can’t figure why I stood out so much here. This head-turning continued noticeably as I went for a jog later in the city. It felt like everything stopped when I jogged by. Pretty weird reactions, but people were full of friendly smiles. (Any longer there and my head would have gotten so big it wouldn´t have fit into my helmet.)

Amongst the crowd at the grocery store was Julieta, (1st picture) working there for Coca-Cola. She would end up meeting Peter and I out later for a couple of drinks and such. Isabel in the 2nd picture worked there also, and Selma at the bottom was such a cutie, working there at her family´s dry cleaning business.

A real highlight of Aguascalientes was the help we received from a local traffic cop as we pulled into town. We were struggling to find a hotel with secure motorcycle parking downtown, and upon realizing this, a policewoman stopped directing traffic in the middle of rush hour to walk around with Peter for about 25 minutes looking for a hotel. Meanwhile, I sat there watching the bikes as the intersection turned into a complete traffic jam. Seriously though….she walked away from directing traffic to help out a couple of motorcycle riders? What a place to visit….

Off the next day, we ended up in a town called Rio Verde for one night, and set up our tents under the grass rooftops at the Media Luna Hotel and Resort. The owner, Saul almost had us talked into staying an extra day to do some SCUBA training and touring of the area, but moving on to warmer southern air sounded more appealing for that. (Still cold here at over 6000 feet above sea level.)

Instead of heading all the way east to Ciudad Valles as the main highways would suggest, we spotted a small rural road unlisted on most maps that started in a town called El Sauz that eventually meets back up with the main highways to Vera Cruz. A few of the locals told us “you don’t want to take that road, its aweful. Not even really a road.” But, we’re learning that such words are a green light for us to take the road anyway. (Take the road less traveled?) That’s what these bikes are built for!

And what a day it turned out to be. Beautiful scenery, an ugly, beat up dirt road running through hilly terrain and small towns that are not even listed on most maps…..it was one of the best riding days I’ve ever had.

Even back in these totally remote areas, they had little schools like this one. I was a little late on the camera and they had already started coming outside, but if you look closely, you can see some of these kids pressed up against the window trying to get a look at these two strangers rolling through their town. They started coming out soon as their curiosity mounted and Peter asked a local for directions.

Eventually, we made it to a place called “Tanchachin,” where a family offered lunch in what was essentially a restaurant outside their home. Langostino, frijoles, maize tortillas…..my kind of lunch. It was outstanding! Sad stories came with the lunch though. This town had been completely shut off from all supplies and food earlier this year because the torrential rainfall had washed out the road (part of what made that road fun riding for us.) Also, the cook confided in us that she had not seen her son or daughter for a few years now. The family had saved up $5000 USD to send her children to the U.S. in hopes of finding a better life. Tough thing is…..they don’t have the legal paperwork to come home and visit, and they can’t afford to travel to Orlando and see her kids. Quite a sacrifice many of us will never have to make. But imagine the reunion...

This was an absolute favorite day of riding though. These tiny little towns in the middle of nowhere are full of kids and people with beautiful faces, all running out to the street or stopping what they’re doing as we roll through their town. All waves and smiles, back and forth. I wish they knew how much I was smiling with them beneath my helmet, but I mostly just try to wave when the road permits it. And they seem so surprised sometimes when they realize we are waving at them and recognizing them. One of the greatest things about this trip so far is seeing all the faces and how they change as we move on through different areas of native habitat.

The rural road took us through Aquismon, and eventually had us at a hotel in Tazmunchale for the night. Not much to say about Tazmunchale….from what we saw, it was a beat up looking little city, and we were pretty beat up from a long tough ride as well. Okay, the town center was kind of neat with the holiday celebrations going on.

Next day, we started east again through Tuxpan and Poza Rica, just trying to get to some beachfront campgrounds we had read about. What a fun day to be on the road, cause there was a marathon or something going on between Tazmunchale and Poza Rica. It looked as if each town had sent out multiple runners with torches headed toward each other, and we saw thousands of bicyclists and motorcycle riders crossing toward each other all day long. Turned into a bit of a traffic jam a couple of times along the way, but it was fun to be around and witness. I even dropped my camera from my bike at about 25 mph trying to get a photo of a torch carrier at one point. The young kid running was kind enough to spot my camera and memory stick on the ground and pick It up for me while still running with the torch! I can see it in the newspaper now: “Strange Gringo Hassles Local Athlete.” (Camera still works, by the way.)

Eventually at the Gulf Coast, we stayed at Playa Norte campground, which is really just the backyard of an old couple that lives there on beachfront property. Had the place to ourselves, liked the nearby town a bit, and Peter had a bad stomach, so we stayed two nights there. Nightime photos were an attempt to capture the hammock and moon in the background. Maria was even nice enough to do our laundry for us and let the ocean breeze to the drying the next day. Little things like that sure do put a smile on my face : )

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.