Wobbling all over the road isn’t much fun. You alternate between riding along the road with you thumb out in the air and standing beside the road with your thumb out in the air. The rims are looking pretty chipped from the rough treatment. How much longer before they become royally screwed?
You walk the bike into a small town. You sit down on a bench and drink some water. And then somebody actually stops. A lift? Por favor. You load the bike on the back of the ute, sorry ‘truck’ and climb on in. Hurray.
And sail on in to Ciudad Obregon, which by the way isn’t in your crap guidebook for a city of over a million people. Your friends drop you off outside a bike shop and you get what you need. Then find a hotel. Then spend a fair while trying to convey that you want to look at the room before you hand over your pesos. She thought you wanted to shower first. What a day. Time for some cerveza.
To Navojoa.: Just riding along
Sunday August 12, 2007, 76 km (47 miles) – Total so far: 1,147 km (713 miles)
The bed feels so good that it takes so much effort to get up. So you sleep in. But sooner or later you have to get up and brave the day. First things first. Fix the tire. You take the wheel outside but it is so hot that perhaps this is best done inside. The rim is chipped to hell. You try to file the inside smooth as best you can. Then fit the tube and tire. No problem. Let’s get out of here.
You try to get some supplies from a big department store on the edge of town but they won’t let you in with your bags. Buggered if you’ll leave your valuables behind. So you go to a nearby smaller store to get what you need.
You pass through a toll station but they’re not interested in you. On the other side traffic is diverted onto the oncoming lane. A little further up a truck is wedged across the road. Guess they were trying to avoid the toll by going up a side road.
It’s hot but cools down by the time you make it to Navojoa. The skies darken. It rains a little on dusk but you’re in town now. Lightning brightens up the cool sky.
It is 160 km to Los Mochis. That’s two easy days on the road. But if you get up early and get half of that done by the midday heat then you can spend an extra day in town doing nothing much. Maybe.
Los Mochis.: One very long day
Monday August 13, 2007, 171 km (106 miles) – Total so far: 1,318 km (819 miles)
Today is a day of snakes. There are quite a few of them waiting along the side of the road. Lucky for you they became road kill long before you chance upon them. There are two tolls today. You ride through both without concern. There is some kind of vehicular check point and soon after a military one.
It is a hot day. The sun burns your upper thighs despite putting on sunscreen. You leave Sonora state and enter Sinaloa. Roads for the most part now have shoulders. This does little to deter trucks and buses from driving as-dangerous-as-possibly close to you.
You stop at an Oxxo for an icecream and some rest. Some kids ask questions you couldn’t possibly understand. As you leave one says “Give me one dollar.” Fuck off.
The kilometers to Los Mochis dwindle down. There sure are a lot of them. But you should be able to make it by dusk. Closer and closer you get. Your legs become rubbery. Your hands and wrists hurt. Slowly the kilometers dwindle. You make it to the edge of town. And then the rear tire goes. Of course.
If you were too tired to cycle you sure are too tired to fix the tire. So you walk. It will be a good change for the legs, anyway. There is a hotel nearby. The price is a bit steep but they will barter. Kind of. They really don’t go down much on the price. So you move on. And on. Nine kilometers on you finally find a hotel, via burger king, and check in.
The plan was to spend a couple nights here to relax. But you are already ready to move on. Maybe a couple of easy days on the road is in order, find a nice beach and relax.
To Guamuchil.: A fly flew into my ear!!!
Tuesday August 14, 2007, 116 km (72 miles) – Total so far: 1,434 km (891 miles)
You enjoy the bliss of dozing in when suddenly a fly decides to investigate the inner workings of your left ear. It buzzes its way in and about and there is nothing you can do. What does this mean? Will maggots now breed inside your head? Aaagggghhhhhhh!!!!
It sure is hot so you waste time filling up on caffeine in Burger King and zoom on down the highway. You make good time too regardless of a couple early breaks. Your destination is just off the freeway about a hundred km into the day. The highway seems a little busier but the shoulders are nice and wide.
Just before Guamuchil you stop in a motel. Quite cheap but only for twelve hours. Hmmmmm 7:40 PM to 7:40 AM. How about I come back in a couple hours? The guy on reception lets you stay until 8:30 though. Just as well for him. After the extra four km into town you probably wouldn’t have gone back. Oh, and there is a TV in the room but it only has two channels and one of them is porn.
To Catalacan.: In the red light district
Wednesday August 15, 2007, 118 km (73 miles) – Total so far: 1,552 km (964 miles)
You sure didn’t get a good night’s sleep. The air-conditioner only has one setting, cold and loud. You turn it off and the room quickly saunas up. You get a get up and get out bang on the door an hour before check out.
You skip breakfast, not liking anything in town and not able to find anything else until after lunch. The nice wide shoulder of yesterday disappears, first half and then in total, not reappearing until much later in the day.
Someone drives up along side. “Australia?” He asks. This is the same guy two weeks ago who, on his bike, helped you get past that asshole on the toll way up near Tecato. You stop and chat for a bit. He’s off to do some crazy ride up a 3000 metre mountain, over 300 km in about 30 hours.
The destination today is Catalacan. With just ten km to go your rear tire goes flat. So you inflate it. But as you start to ride again the other tire goes. You start walking but doing the math in your head you are better off spending the time to fix the tires. So when the opportunity arises you fix the flats and move on. And into Catalacan. This sure is a big town. With absolutely nothing of interest. After a while trying to find a hotel you decide to just find one on the way out of town.
A look in the mirror is shocking. Dirt covers your face. Your legs are blue from fuck-knows-what. But some hard scrubbing fixes that. Time for dinner. You try to enter one of those Ley stores you see everywhere but security won’t let you in with your bag. “You want me to leave my valuables outside to be stolen?” Apparently so. You leave feeling disheartened. Oh and guess what. You’re staying in the red light district.
Towards La Cruz.: Camping along the freeway
Thursday August 16, 2007, 122 km (76 miles) – Total so far: 1,674 km (1,040 miles)
You wake up late. On the way out of town you meet up with a character who claims he was kidnapped not long ago. He’s on his way south to find a hospital and fuck knows what. Strangely enough he doesn’t ask you for money.
You head out of town, realizing only then that you are on the wrong road. Oh this road still heads south, just on the more dangerous highway. This means big detour to get to the freeway. Oh well. A friendly cop, on his own bike, helps with directions in the small town of Costa Rica, which is not even on the coast.
And zoom, zoom, zoom, down the freeway you go. You pile on the miles. La Cruz is the destination but it never seems to arrive. It gets dark. Time to start looking for a place