September 29th Villahermosa to Tapachula 450 STRESSFUL MILES!!

Villahermosa is a thriving City and very lively and modern - enjoyed my short stay here

On the road by 8am, which I was pleased with as I didn't sleep well and had 3 hours of wakefulness. I collected my bike which was parked a block away and packed up. Leaving the City was straight forward, but I have to say it's beauty and charm is not matched by its drivers. They are the worse I have encountered in Mexico. Although this may be my state of mind after poor sleep and early start. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt!! I have to admit that I misinformed you yesterday about the Budgie on a stick - it's not true. I rode out of the city and instantly came across a boy with a static stick, as I approached I saw the same green and yellow creature and without the movement was able to observe, no budgie - too small. It was in fact a parrot of some description. Someone Google t and see what these fellas trade in. My mistake may have been that yesterday's  viewing were juvenile birds - so a little smaller. On the theme of yesterday I also hit roadworks early on and I don't know if it was because it was early morning but the 'Warning Stick Waver' was not waving. He had the mandatory orange overalls and his red flag but very little activity - I wondered if he was asleep. On closer inspection I discovered that my theory on 'Roads and the development of entrepreneurship' was correct. Some bright and perhaps lazy individual had put all the aforementioned articles onto a manakin, a female one at that! Later in the day I did some a couple of Lady flag wavers, which was great to see in this chauvinistic society. I wonder if they'll be allowed to do some dirty work at some time.
I did 80 miles retracing my route before turning off the motorway and heading south westerly. I passed a petrol station on this new road but with 1/2 a tank left (100 miles) and a gallon in the jerry I reasoned I had enough to reach the next service station. I was climbing over the mountainous spine of southern Mexico onto the west coast and the Pacific but after 100 miles and an indicator showing one bar, I decided to empty the jerry into the tank (just to be safe). After a 160 miles and an indicator showing reserve I began to panic, just a little. Across the mountainous range there was no sign of petrol or life anywhere. I slowed right down to 45 miles an hour in an attempt to conserve fuel. I did discover though as a consequence something new about Benito - when the reserve kicks in it tells you to the litre how much is in the tank. In this case it was 0.7 of a gallon and in normal circumstances this would give me about 30 - 40 miles, however at this altitude and the constant decelerating and accelerating on the climbs, that figure was closer to the 30 than the 40. In total I dawdled for two hours, conserving precious fuel. On tinker bell (satnav) I have a feature that searches for nearest available Petrol stations, I pressed it and discovered there was on 4 miles away and two miles off the motorway. I'd be fine of Tinkers was right, but I didn't have much faith. I drove into the village (about the size of St. Cleer) and couldn't find one anywhere at least not where Tinkers was indicating. I eventually stopped at a small building with a Mobil sign outside and began hailing the proprietor. He turned up and I'm sure I'd woken hm from his slumbers. In very poor Spanish I eventually got him to understand my situation. His car was diesel so I could not take some from there, and he said to me that the nearest petrol station was 23 km away, With my gauge indicating 0.3 of a litre it would be touch and go if I reached it. I had a 1/2 litre of fuel which I'd used for my petrol stove - I emptied that into the tank, thanked the hombre, who was more keen in knowing the cubic capacity, number of cylinders and how much it cost than resolving my situation. But he shook my hand and wished me luck and told me he liked Pep Guardiolla, as I'd earlier said I was from Manchester. It's easier to say that is where I'm from as after London, Manchester is the only other place they know. 
I was still registering 0.3 of a gallon and my small addition had made little change to the indicator - under normal circumstances this amount would cover the 15 miles or so with a bit to spare, I only hoped that there were no more big climbs as that would throw that summation into question. For about a mile I climbed and then fortunately descended, but I soon hit roadworks and for the first time was actually stopped by the flag waver to let oncoming traffic through. I switched off the machine to conserve petrol. This happened again a further few miles down the mountain and my petrol gauge was now reading 0.2. I had intended all trip to buy a piece of plastic tubing to use as a syphon in case of emergencies like this - I was cursing myself that I hadn't. Eventually I saw the sign turning me off to the small town I'd been told I'd find petrol. To my relief there was and I don't know if it was the heat or my anxiety but I was actually dripping from inside my helmet and steaming up the visor.
I filled up Bonito and put two gallons into the Jerry - I wasn't going to let this happen again, but in my defence you wouldn't expect 200 miles between filling stations. But I will in future and I'll prepare for it. As I re-entered the motorway within two miles I came across two filling stations - so nothing for 200 miles and three within 5 miles of one another! There seemed to be a heavy army presence over the next few miles and I passed through an Army checkpoint, unlike other previous checkpoints these guys were serious they were stopping more than they were letting through. The young soldier smiled and waved me into a cordoned off section. From what I could make out he was asking all about the bike, which I couldn't answer him in my rudimentary Spanish - he passed me onto his superior - who also asked me all about the bike. Eventually he asked me to open my top box and panniers (which wasn't a problem, but an inconvenience), I pleaded ignorance and said I did not understand. He gave up, shook my hand and waved me on. A result.

I know you must get fed up of the next bit, but not nearly as much as I do. The sky turned grey and then black and it stated to pour it peter it down for over an hour and this time (thinking it must be a short shower) I was only in think trousers and a shirt. Again I was completely drowned and the roads, though very wet, were not nearly as dangerous as my trip from the pyramids. It was perhaps more unpleasant though as I had no protective clothing. I soldiered on, counting every tortuous mile, half expecting to see bright sunshine soon. That  didn't happen, though it did stop raining. Ive developed a new technique for drying out though, this involves standing up on the pedals and presenting my body to the wind. Today my shirt nearly dried out before Tapachula, but not the trousers.
The hotel  was located on a narrow, busy shopping street and after checking in and showering I took a brief walk. Virtually opposite the hotel was a hardware store and pride of place was some plastic hose which I bought a metre of  (this will be used for syphoning purposes) and I bought a large cloth. In the heavy rain of today the two sponges which I'd bought from Walmart to cushion the jerry can, had been lost. Ironically Duolingo, which I have been using to learn Spanish, is notorious for putting useless words into sentences - like esponja - to my surprise I could put this into a sentence and be understood, but, they didn't have any. So the rag I bought will now be the new cushion.
All in all a trying day and tomorrow with some luck and a lot of Irish blarney I'll be in Guatemala. Liked Mexico, it's quirky.

September 29th Villahermosa to Tapachula 450 STRESSFUL MILES!!

Villahermosa is a thriving City and very lively and modern - enjoyed my short stay here

On the road by 8am, which I was pleased with as I didn't sleep well and had 3 hours of wakefulness. I collected my bike which was parked a block away and packed up. Leaving the City was straight forward, but I have to say it's beauty and charm is not matched by its drivers. They are the worse I have encountered in Mexico. Although this may be my state of mind after poor sleep and early start. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt!! I have to admit that I misinformed you yesterday about the Budgie on a stick - it's not true. I rode out of the city and instantly came across a boy with a static stick, as I approached I saw the same green and yellow creature and without the movement was able to observe, no budgie - too small. It was in fact a parrot of some description. Someone Google t and see what these fellas trade in. My mistake may have been that yesterday's  viewing were juvenile birds - so a little smaller. On the theme of yesterday I also hit roadworks early on and I don't know if it was because it was early morning but the 'Warning Stick Waver' was not waving. He had the mandatory orange overalls and his red flag but very little activity - I wondered if he was asleep. On closer inspection I discovered that my theory on 'Roads and the development of entrepreneurship' was correct. Some bright and perhaps lazy individual had put all the aforementioned articles onto a manakin, a female one at that! Later in the day I did some a couple of Lady flag wavers, which was great to see in this chauvinistic society. I wonder if they'll be allowed to do some dirty work at some time.
I did 80 miles retracing my route before turning off the motorway and heading south westerly. I passed a petrol station on this new road but with 1/2 a tank left (100 miles) and a gallon in the jerry I reasoned I had enough to reach the next service station. I was climbing over the mountainous spine of southern Mexico onto the west coast and the Pacific but after 100 miles and an indicator showing one bar, I decided to empty the jerry into the tank (just to be safe). After a 160 miles and an indicator showing reserve I began to panic, just a little. Across the mountainous range there was no sign of petrol or life anywhere. I slowed right down to 45 miles an hour in an attempt to conserve fuel. I did discover though as a consequence something new about Benito - when the reserve kicks in it tells you to the litre how much is in the tank. In this case it was 0.7 of a gallon and in normal circumstances this would give me about 30 - 40 miles, however at this altitude and the constant decelerating and accelerating on the climbs, that figure was closer to the 30 than the 40. In total I dawdled for two hours, conserving precious fuel. On tinker bell (satnav) I have a feature that searches for nearest available Petrol stations, I pressed it and discovered there was on 4 miles away and two miles off the motorway. I'd be fine of Tinkers was right, but I didn't have much faith. I drove into the village (about the size of St. Cleer) and couldn't find one anywhere at least not where Tinkers was indicating. I eventually stopped at a small building with a Mobil sign outside and began hailing the proprietor. He turned up and I'm sure I'd woken hm from his slumbers. In very poor Spanish I eventually got him to understand my situation. His car was diesel so I could not take some from there, and he said to me that the nearest petrol station was 23 km away, With my gauge indicating 0.3 of a litre it would be touch and go if I reached it. I had a 1/2 litre of fuel which I'd used for my petrol stove - I emptied that into the tank, thanked the hombre, who was more keen in knowing the cubic capacity, number of cylinders and how much it cost than resolving my situation. But he shook my hand and wished me luck and told me he liked Pep Guardiolla, as I'd earlier said I was from Manchester. It's easier to say that is where I'm from as after London, Manchester is the only other place they know. 
I was still registering 0.3 of a gallon and my small addition had made little change to the indicator - under normal circumstances this amount would cover the 15 miles or so with a bit to spare, I only hoped that there were no more big climbs as that would throw that summation into question. For about a mile I climbed and then fortunately descended, but I soon hit roadworks and for the first time was actually stopped by the flag waver to let oncoming traffic through. I switched off the machine to conserve petrol. This happened again a further few miles down the mountain and my petrol gauge was now reading 0.2. I had intended all trip to buy a piece of plastic tubing to use as a syphon in case of emergencies like this - I was cursing myself that I hadn't. Eventually I saw the sign turning me off to the small town I'd been told I'd find petrol. To my relief there was and I don't know if it was the heat or my anxiety but I was actually dripping from inside my helmet and steaming up the visor.
I filled up Bonito and put two gallons into the Jerry - I wasn't going to let this happen again, but in my defence you wouldn't expect 200 miles between filling stations. But I will in future and I'll prepare for it. As I re-entered the motorway within two miles I came across two filling stations - so nothing for 200 miles and three within 5 miles of one another! There seemed to be a heavy army presence over the next few miles and I passed through an Army checkpoint, unlike other previous checkpoints these guys were serious they were stopping more than they were letting through. The young soldier smiled and waved me into a cordoned off section. From what I could make out he was asking all about the bike, which I couldn't answer him in my rudimentary Spanish - he passed me onto his superior - who also asked me all about the bike. Eventually he asked me to open my top box and panniers (which wasn't a problem, but an inconvenience), I pleaded ignorance and said I did not understand. He gave up, shook my hand and waved me on. A result.

I know you must get fed up of the next bit, but not nearly as much as I do. The sky turned grey and then black and it stated to pour it peter it down for over an hour and this time (thinking it must be a short shower) I was only in think trousers and a shirt. Again I was completely drowned and the roads, though very wet, were not nearly as dangerous as my trip from the pyramids. It was perhaps more unpleasant though as I had no protective clothing. I soldiered on, counting every tortuous mile, half expecting to see bright sunshine soon. That  didn't happen, though it did stop raining. Ive developed a new technique for drying out though, this involves standing up on the pedals and presenting my body to the wind. Today my shirt nearly dried out before Tapachula, but not the trousers.
The hotel  was located on a narrow, busy shopping street and after checking in and showering I took a brief walk. Virtually opposite the hotel was a hardware store and pride of place was some plastic hose which I bought a metre of  (this will be used for syphoning purposes) and I bought a large cloth. In the heavy rain of today the two sponges which I'd bought from Walmart to cushion the jerry can, had been lost. Ironically Duolingo, which I have been using to learn Spanish, is notorious for putting useless words into sentences - like esponja - to my surprise I could put this into a sentence and be understood, but, they didn't have any. So the rag I bought will now be the new cushion.
All in all a trying day and tomorrow with some luck and a lot of Irish blarney I'll be in Guatemala. Liked Mexico, it's quirky.

September 28th Tlacotalpan - Villahermosa 236 miles

The roof tops of Villahermosa (looks like a nice town)

It's quite difficult finding places to stay that make the journey divide into equal distances. For example my journey tomorrow is 430 miles or so, this will take me to the Guatemalan border and my last night in Mexico (hopefully). I decided against going to Belize as it is further and it would be just going there to avoid Guatemala, which I have to go through anyway. So I've decided to man up and take Guatemala on. But first I have to get across the border without the correct paperwork. You'll hear more of that in a few days time.

Today was blistering hot and my love affair with speed bumps continued - but I have discovered they have a purpose other than to slow traffic down. I believe it is a new economic plan on the part of the Mexican Finance minister to bolster trade and entrepreneurship. At every speed bump there are people young and old trying to sell an array of things to eat, drink and wear. As a concept its quite good, because with little overheads there is an open marketplace for one's goods. Although being on a bike is a huge disappointment to me and to them I suspect. Seriously though, for the first time I have thought about the importance of roads other than their intended purpose. These roads must be the lifeblood for these rural communities, just like the rail network created new towns in 19th century Britain, these roads are doing likewise in developing Mexico. There is a huge roadbuilding programme and one doesn't travel far before one see's roads being built, extended or improved.
It is novel though to see how these new motorways are being used, to date I have seen users from cyclist, pedestrians, a tandem and numerous motorcyclist with the family on board little 125cc machines. Scattered along the motorway, usually found under bridges, are farmers and their young family selling their produce, bananas, pineapple and melons. (Sometimes it is just the juice of these products). This is common, but today I was surprised at what else  was being sold. From a distance I could see a young boy waving a stick vigorously. This is not unusual as young boys are often given the job of waving sticks to slow down the traffic, where there are road works, But this time there was clearly not a digger or tar spreader in sight. As I got closer I thought, 'He must be selling un-ripened bananas,' as I viewed bright yellow and green crescent shapes on the end of a stick. In utter disbelief I discovered he was neither a 'Warner of Danger' nor a 'Young Farmer' but a one man mobile pet shop, selling of all things Budgerigars. If you did stop to buy one, how would you get it home? There were no cages visible for sale. Perhaps its a Mexican delicacy  I mischievously thought, though I couldn't see any tacos or fajitas being offered as an accompaniment. How did they keep them on the stick I wondered- they didn't appear to be fastened down. Further down the road I was not fooled by other young boys selling their banana impersonators.
Today I also passed into the State of Tobasco (where the sauce originated one presumes) and at each State crossing there is a pseudo customs check and the offices and officers associated with this. In Tobasco, two young people with outstretched hands waved us onwards. In their hands were hard hats turned upside down and I assumed intended for the collection of money. I threw a few coins into the hat - mainly because I thought I may be being watched by border guards ahead and I might be treated leniently, if they noticed my generosity. I hadn't a clue what the insignia on their uniform stood for and for all I knew it could have been the Budgie Liberation Front. Anyway I was ignored as I drove through, along with everyone else driving through in both directions. Who am I to spoil a good chat with your mates? As I passed along I noticed a van with the same Logo as the one the young people had on their uniforms. It was the Emergency Ambulance Services - so not just us with a crumbling Health Service. A sign of things to come! 

The temperature increased and hit a stifling 37 degrees but there were black clouds ahead. Today's 'agua ducha' was brief and just long enough to give my clothes a good wash (one less job to do this evening) and blow dry. Before hitting the town of Villahermosa I filled up the tank and my jerry can, as tomorrow I will need to leave early if I'm to make Tapachula before dark. This should mean only having to stop once for fuel. I'm not looking forward to such a long distance, but I feel I must leave Mexico having spent nearly 2 weeks here. I never intended staying so long and truthfully this was because of some of the horror stories you hear about the place. In reality the people and the places are great and in my humble opinion I preferred this country to the States. I have not felt threatened or unsafe, apart from my own paranoia on the first few days. However, my opinion may change after my encounters with the border guards on Friday.

* Footnote 
The lake I passed a few days ago is called Lago de Cuitzo

September 27th Teotihuacan to Tlacotalpan Culture and Cornish/Mexican rain!

Teotihuacan (pronounced Tea-or tea -war-can) - storm clouds a brewing!

I awoke early as I wanted to be at the Pyramids before the crowds, which I hate. I thought I'd read that the site, which is huge, opens at 9am. I got there at 8 am with the intention of riding around the perimeter to recky the place first. But after riding up one side for about a mile I noticed a gate was open - with hope rather than expectation I went to the reception and to my surprise they issued me a ticket and asked me for the princely sum of 140 pesos - just over £2. It was that much because  had to pay to park the bike. Mexicans get in free on Sundays, which is the busiest time. I think that's a nice idea. Today I walked in and saw the Sun Temple which is the largest of the numerous pyramid structures. It is ginormous, I couldn't believe the size of it. But what was even more pleasing, there were only about 4 other people here. Not only is it visually stunning, it is historically fascinating. Apparently it is not an Aztec temple at all, it precedes the Aztecs by approx a 1000 years, built around the time of Christ. It was a City with a population of 25,000 and the ritual purpose was to worship and  sacrifice! It was believed that this place was holy, was at the centre of the Universe and was where mortals were turned into Gods. I tried standing at the altar stone, I stood on the top of the Sun and Moon pyramids, but it didn't work, I l still got PI**ED on big time. I think it may have been God saying 'Don't be so presumptuous'.

Farewell - and still no crowds (perhaps they'd seen the weather forecast)

After my really wonderful morning experience, I departed just as the drops began to fall. Back at the hotel I quickly packed up, had some breakfast (lovely people who ran it) and for the first time since England, put on my full waterproof gear. This was Cornish rain persistent and grey skies off loading their merchandise. It was around 15 degrees, so not warm. By 11.30am I was on the road and the gear was doing its stuff, keeping me dry and toasty. Whilst day dreaming I missed the turn on the motorway and finished up doing an extra 24 miles to get back to where i should have been- must concentrate. I find the start of the day and the ends are usually, where I make mistakes.

We appeared to be gradually climbing into the mountains where it was getting darker by the second, but there were breaks in the cloud with the occasional glimmer of blue sky. It continued like this for around a 250 miles and wasn't too unpleasant. It was a new road and consequently there were no services to be found. I wasn't unduly worried as I had my jerry can with a gallon and a half. But in this weather I'd prefer to top up at a garage, than have to fill up by the side of the road, in the worst of the weather. I would only use my spare petrol if I really had to. I started to climb again and I could see that the weather was seriously worsening ahead, it was worse than anything I'd experienced previously, this weather had no beginning, nor end - it was sheer black! It felt like night.
At first it wasn't too bad as I slowly continued to climb, but on reaching what I assumed to be the summit it quickly got worse, it was like the Texas/Louisiana experience
but it wasn't easing - it was getting worse and now I was travelling steeply downhill with torrents of water accompanying me. After two miles of this I saw flashing Blue lights ahead and gingerly touched my brakes and slowed down very gradually. There had been an accident and a pickup truck had completely overturned and shed its load right across the two lanes. Unlike in England, the police weren't closing the road, they were just waving people around this vehicle and onto the hard shoulder, with just a rudimentary red flag. It was so bad it was difficult to see, after witnessing this my flashing indicators came on and I reduced my speed to about 25mph - still there were cars whizzing past me at over 60mph. I saw one nearly loose control as it aquaplaned across a river gushing across the road.
This became very scary indeed and no sooner would you descend to what you thought was the bottom, it began to climb again. This lasted for 40 or so miles,with each mile getting progressively worse. The road and galleys were filling up with water and streams were running of the mountainside and onto the road. The last 2 miles it turned out, were even more heavy, my clothes began to leak here and there, but this was Noah weather so was to be expected. I saw a sign saying Toll ahead and for the first time I was happy to pay and seek the comfort of civilisation.  I was hoping for a shop or restaurant to take shelter and drink something hot - there was nothing. I paid my fee and soldiered on, thinking there must be something here soon. I could see a lightening sky someway ahead, so was encouraged, but as I pulled away the bike was stuck in first gear and the automatic system did not appear to be working, I had to manually change gear. The fuel gauge was on reserve and I braced myself for a roadside stop to fill him up. Just as I was contemplating this, there was a roadsigns saying fuel 1km. I wasn't too worried about the petrol situation but the thought of shelter was very appealing. I pulled into the garage and with the blink of an eye the rain had stopped.
I filled up and switched the engine back on and to my relief the gearbox was functioning properly and even better news, within two miles I was in blazing sun and 32 degree temperatures. Looking backwards, you could see this hot moist air hitting the mountainside and forming dark clouds and rain. I was informed by the manager at my last hotel that this was the wet season, but I had never anticipated rain of such biblical  proportions. 

The next ninety miles were a joy as I warmed up, dried out and enjoyed the sub tropical weather and landscape. However this was my second long day in a row, (7 1/2 hours) for a relatively short distance. God knows what the real tropics will bring. Tlocotalpan is a seaside town, but not one you would want to spend any length  of time there. Its interior is marshland and as I was to find out after eating my tea I was scratching all over - Mossies!!
Back in the room I covered myself in insect repellant, but don't any chap do what i did and get some on my Bawbag. It's been a day of extremes, (especially temperatures, in more ways than one) but in a funny kind of way, enjoyable.

September 26th Guadalajara to Teotihuacan - Bumps, lumps, dogs & Tinker

Yesterday's evening dip station

Riding a bike is obviously different to driving a car, but in ways you may not imagine. Firstly you are much more aware of temperature and noise and you are much more a part of the environment - these things you may have guessed, but what non riders won’t appreciate is the way you are part of the machine. Every little nuance, such as the way you have packed, your position on the seat and so on affect the way the bike behaves.

Getting on the bike after two days rest, the machine felt strange, it felt a little uneven, lopsided. My first thoughts were that the people who serviced it had misaligned the wheels when adjusting the chain. Having got away from the city in super fast time (20 minutes) I decided to stop at the first services and check, I filled up with petrol and replenished the empty petrol canister that I emptied on the previous Friday. i then examined the chain and all seemed as it should be - maybe it just felt strange because of my few days away from the machine.

Any way back on the road and instantly it felt different - more balanced, less lopsided. Then it twigged, I’d spent two weeks distributing, as best I could, the weight across the bike and with an empty petrol canister this had upset the balance. Once I had restored the equilibrium all was fine. 

Bonito shining again!

The motorway was empty, but passing through beautifully green and fertile countryside - not one’s image of Mexico, but it is truly lush- the time went quickly  and I was eating up the miles. This was only punctuated by the many Toll stops I had to make. At the Toll immediately after filling up I was peeped by the driver behind, this impatience is not uncommon, nor is the use of the horn. I do have some sympathy though, as every time I stop at the toll, I have to go through the ritual of stopping and killing the engine, side stand on, brake on, gloves off, root inside my tank bag for money, pay, receive change and receipt, place bag in tank bag and then reverse everything previously done. It takes a while. However, this was not Latin impatience, but Latin consideration - my petrol canister was trickling drops of fuel. I thanked the man, drove quickly out of his way and parked up. I took off the lid and noticed that although the lid was tight,  the washer inside had become lightly twisted. Quickly remedied I tightened up, and was back on the road.

I passed more beautiful volcanoes and a most enormous lake (will check out its name later) and shortly after passing the lake we climbed a little. I began to hear a different sound from the bike and again my imagination went into overdrive - what could it be, why did it sound so different, it sounded like it was being starved of air, there was no deep rumble that I was used to. At the top of this very gradual climb the sign read 2570 metre Altitude. I could not believe it, this is only 400metres short of Mount Olympus that we climbed in the summer. Mexico , especially the central band is deceptively high.  I started to descend pleased that we were at the summit, as I was getting worried, maybe this altitude was affecting the bike. Just as that thought passed my mind my ears suddenly popped, and surprise surprise, everything now sounded fine. I'd been unaware that my ears had been affected,  it goes to show that an overactive mind can create all kinds of demons! Bonito, apart from using more fuel took the hills in its stride. 

With only 90 miles of the 356 left to do the motorway went through a large town and I finished up being shouted at by Tinker, ‘Off route recalculate’, I followed her instructions to get back on route, but found I was no longer on fast motorway but single lane country roads taking me through some very impoverished looking villages. All the time I was expecting us to rejoin the motorway at any time. While passing through the various villages I was reminded of a comment my Mam made to me when she was a social worker many years ago, ‘People who find it difficult to make ends meet, will often have a  dog or even two.’ If Mam was right, these villages were definitely not making ends meet, they all seemed littered with stray dogs wandering into the road and congregating in packs. Only one actually ran out in front of me - in fact I was amazed at how aware of the traffic and road they were. The other bizarre feature of these villages and small towns are the speed bumps. Firstly they are not marked, nor is there any signage to let you know you are approaching one. I discovered later that I set off my GPS tracker (alarming Jen and Bruce with an SOS signal) yet again. It occurs to me that  the least significant the place the more bumps it would have and the less well defined! It was perhaps a case of low self-esteem on the part of the village leaders -wanting to be important by having lots, but a bit timid about showing them off!!! 

This tortuous route, that Tinker took me on, lasted for 70 miles and my average speed was around 20 miles an hour and I literally must have gone over a thousand or more speedbumps. Not only are they inconvenient but the Mexicans, who in the main have very old cars, go over these painfully slowly and sometimes causing a queue. I was further exasperated when coming out of a small town called San Pedro (not sure if a good or bad omen I thought) I saw up ahead a line of policemen stopping cars on both sides of the road. I decided very quickly to sneak up as close as possible behind a car carrying what looked like the contents of an house on its roof rack - hoping to avoid being spotted and stopped for some bureaucratic reason. I also thought if they were to stop anyone it must be this unsafe monstrosity - as it happened both of us snook through without notice - a result. As for Tinker, I was less polite internally and another T word sounding like satnav sprung to mind,  T*atnav. Can't do with her can't do without. A love hate relationship.

Anyway it’s definitely my teatime now and the wifi is also said to be better in the adjoining restaurant, so I’ll finish now and paste this document into the blog

*Footnote

the 356 miles took over 9 hours to complete

I avoided a massive rain shower

The Aztec pyramid is only 3 miles down the road and will view first thing tomorrow morning

September 25th Guadalajara

Felt like a tourist today, Tas and I took a UBER taxi into the centre of the city (first time experience for me). It was less than £2 and it arrived within 2 minutes, the second Uber we used to the Expo EVEN OFFERED US A BOTTLED WATER AND A LOLLIPOP. - we firstly headed for the Cathedral as we reasoned this is usually where the action and historic buildings are to be found. The City was buzzing with people and a real weekend feel. The Cathedral appeared to have a service going on, though tourist were still walking around with their smartphones. Here are a few of my piccys. The Cathedral was built in the late 1500's.

Tas

Me

Before visiting the Cathedral we'd stopped at a Chinese 'All you can eat Buffet', which for two of us was £7 with a beer thrown in! Food was good too. Tas wouldn't admit it but I suspect he was nursing a hangover - he'd gotten back to his room at 5am that morning - so he was pretty brave to escort his dear old uncle into the city. Because he was so good I bought him an ice cream, before walking to the University quarter.

Guadalajara is an old city though the University is somewhat newer, 1795. The locals wanted a University but the Jesuits who had the monopoly with two Colleges resisted and it was only when they were expelled from the City, with the installation of a new Bishop that the University became possible. The Bishop petitioned the King of Spain for approval and he agreed and so the University was founded with it being called the Royal University of Guadalajara. The royal bit was dropped in the 1920's - surprised this lasted so long as Mexico broke away from Spain in 1812.

Cow climbing up the Wall outside the University (bloody students)

View of the original Uni Building with Boris Bikes in foreground (That man gets everywhere)

The University apparently has 250,000 students this includes Secondary schools and subsidiary institutions.

We looked around this beautiful church where real worship was taking place, but I had to take a picture of this beautiful building adorned with flowers.

We walked back to our Hotel via the Expo Centre where Tas registered for another conference he is attending this week. This is an international conference on Aeronautics and was quite interesting looking at the exhibitors there.

They land Helicopters anywhere in this country - I'm sure Ive seen this one before!!!! 

Walking out of the Expo Centre I recognised the bar opposite where I had eaten on Friday night and opposite that was the hotel I'd stayed in. It turned out that the hotel we are currently in,  is literally 5-10 minutes walk away from where I was staying. So Tinkerbell really is mischievous, my two hour tour of Guad on Saturday was totally unnecessary. The hotel also backed onto the Expo Centre (didn't know this at the time) but this would account for the helicopter landing outside my window the previous night !!You've got to laugh haven't you.

It's been good meeting Tas and his friend Andreus (not sure how you spell it, but pronounced An - dray - Us - he's Danish). Good being able to talk, without it being an effort and about where you from and where you going etc. Tomorrow is back to the grindstone, a very long ride of 350 miles to the other side of Mexico City where I shall see the ancient Aztec City of Teotihuacan. After that 3 days to the Belize border - I'm going there as I want to make my crossing through Guatemala as short as possible. My hope is that i get into Belize without too much hassle from the border police, as I don't have the correct paperwork. But that is 4 days away so still lots of other things to worry about - like getting out of this enormous city of 5 million people on a Monday morning in the rush hour!!

Footnote

In desperation on Saturday I briefly turned on my mobile data to get a Googlemap - it was for the briefest of times - it cost me £14. So today I bought a Mexican all you can eat Sim for around £5. What this does mean is that you cannot txt me on my usual number for now. Either use messenger or email

Hope you have all had a nice weekend, I'm off to the pub with Tas and Andreus

September 24th - Still Guadalajara 

Ok, what I'm about to tell you actually happened and you'll understand why my bike has had a name and gender change. Whilst dear old Sally Satnav can no longer bear the same name as my beloved daughter. Also today I turned away from Jesus and followed my own path through this world - more of which later.
The main reason for visiting this City was to meet up with Tasman again who is visiting Guadalajara on a conference about Space. He kindly invited me to join him and his colleagues in a lecture this afternoon - but washing to be done and blogs to write. You can however, make up your own jokes about me and space if you like and post on the comments page - keep it clean though.
Firstly the City - it is a huge metropolis - jam packed with cars going nowhere. The road system is bizarre, you have 4 roads all running parallel, two one way and two the other. If like I often do, find yourself heading in the wrong direction and you want to make a turn to come back on yourself, then you have to travel miles to the next underpass, bridge or roundabout. 

Evening and the traffic has subsided - but if you look closely there are two inner roads either side of the main roads

I'm telling you this because today i had to travel from the hotel I stayed in last night, to the garage where a set of tyres I'd pre-ordered were waiting for me. I left at 9.30 and got there at 10.30 - a distance of three miles - not all the fault of Guadalajara traffic  - mainly SS - she's still called that at this moment in time, just to prove I can be patient.
Eventually arriving at the garage i was greeted by friendly staff, who  ushered me in and got cracking straight away. A procession of different people, staff and customers, came to view my very dirty and well used machine. If my Africa Twin was a lady, she'd have been totally embarrassed to be viewed in such a state of disarray. While there I asked them to clean the air filters and they also offered to give the dear thing a good wash.
The young lad (why in this country do the young men get left to do all the hard work, whilst more mature types merely observe) quickly got the front tyre done and set to on the rear tyre - I watched curiously as after his first attempt with new tyre firmly in place, he started to take it off again. This procedure was carried out a further two times as each time he punctured the inner tube, while putting it back together. i think that is even a record I have never surpassed on my bicycle. I know my friend Paul has probably beaten that record. Once tyres were in place they set to on cleaning the air filters - this was more time consuming than I thought, they had to take off most of the fairing to get to the filters. Anyway this they did and soon all was as it should be - Africa Twin was on its way to get a much deserved clean.

I had hoped that the contact that Jesus Garcia had given me on the road to Torreone would have gotten back to me, as it would have added to my story to really have been saved by Jesus. As with the Last Supper it wasn't Jesus who let us down, but his dear friend. Which is why I was in this workshop having these various bits and bobs looked at in Guadalajara.

The garage 'Powerhouse' were excellent, they bent over backwards to help me and even modified the Scottoiler (chain lubrication system) filling device that my dear friends in the US had fashioned for me. Being cautious I kept the American one, just in case the one modified by my friend 'Three Tube Jo ' didn't work! After 2 hours and having parted with a sizeable some of money (still less than the UK or US) i had a beautiful machine again. i left and was on my way to find the hotel where I'd be staying for the next two nights. Tasman had been there since the middle of the week and he had reported it to be a nice hotel -  I was looking forward to catching up again.

I punched in the address for the hotel into SS (yes, still Sally Satnav at this time) and set off. You've guessed it in the completely wrong direction - I was on a ring road so I guessed SS was just taking me around it - but no I finished up on the outskirts of Guadalajara at the complete opposite end of the city some 9 miles away from where I should have been. I reset SS and started again - this was more promising, I was heading back into the city and seemed to be on the correctly named road. Though I couldn't be sure!! To cut a long story short I arrived at my destination the Puerto Del Sol Hotel. It was at that moment that I decided SS had to have a name change and while I was at it, the Africa Twin too. 

My Honda Africa Twin is definitely not female I have decided - too much testosterone, though he/she is definitely beautiful, especially with the dirt wiped away. So he has been renamed, from this day forth my transgender friend will be called Bonito - which I think sounds more masculine and describes perfectly how he now appears. As for SS after today's escapade she (yes, you know the fable about women and maps) has inherited the name Tinkerbell. I think both names are highly appropriate and apt.

I'm now off to share a beer with my nephew and friends and tomorrow who knows what mischief we will get up to.

Adios 

Pete

September 23rd Zacatecas to Guadalajara

Isn't life funny, I should have guessed that the Hotel Paradiso was not what  it's name suggest, but the fruit they left me and the price of the room I feel guilty being critical of them. I wasn't really being critical I just mentioned that the Wifi was poor and the TV reception also - apart from that the Hotel was fine - if you also forget the noise, but fine, oh and no air conditioning. But basically fine, I think you get my drift. I stood in the car park loading my bike at took the above shot of Zacatecas. I did the WiFi was bad but the Hotel I am in now tops it - more of that later.
I thought today would be a lovely easy day, I was on the road by 10 and thought I'd be in Guadalajara by 2pm. Why I wasn't was difficult to fathom. Oh my first stop after 20 miles to buy a biscuit and hot chocolate - it was surprisingly cold in these parts 20 degrees. I topped up with petrol, which didn't take much as I emptied the petrol from my US petrol container the  night before - It was brilliant can't wait to show it off to other gadget freaks. It has a pump action, so when turned upside down and pushed hard against the tank filler rim, it empties immediately - no pouring needed. The second stop was totally unscripted and took me by surprise.
Along the motorways you often pass through Police Checkpoints, (I think every State has one). As I'd passed through quite a few and never seen anyone stopped I thought they were merely for show and just meant jobs for the boys. As I entered the State of Jalisco driving slowly through the checkpoint the officer waved me on, so I started to accelerate, but out of the corner of my eye another officer made the same gesture. I thought, what lovely friendly coppers, you wouldn't get that back home, when I heard loud voices from beyond, that definitely sounded like a command. I pulled into the very last bay, of which there were many, and saw a policeman running from some distance towards me. He was obviously sent to deal with me because he was the fittest and youngest - the others made me look slim and not bad for my age. He jabbered at me in Spanish and I replied with my stock phrase 'No hablo Espanol, hablo un poco . There was a look of contempt and frustration on his face that said 'What are you doing here if you can't speak Spanish?' He asked me where I was going, which between us we made sense of, where I was from - which he didn't make sense of (I think he thought it was a US State - might be if Trump gets elected!) and because he felt he needed to gain authority and control (which he definitely was losing) he asked to see  my drivers licence. Now my actual licence is hidden under my bike seat and I really didn't want to be unpacking all that - so I went to a more accessible place where my £5 Post Office supplied International Licence was kept. I showed him this then there was a smile on his face, he recognised the name of the issuing authority based in London. 'Are you from London?' he asked, now I know he wanted me to say yes and I knew if I said Cornwall we'd go back to the frustrated and  contemptuous face, which I didn't want. So I gambled and replied 'Yes, nearby' knowing that he probably wouldn't get 'nearby'. 'Ok' he said and this time gave me a more assertive hand gesture which I took to mean you can go. i accelerated cautiously and slowly, half expecting to be called back any moment - but he didn't. Thanks Kid!
 The rest of the journey through this very European looking countryside was uneventful. For the first time this country didn't feel alien. There were fields with cattle and crops growing in well managed pastures. The area was green and reminded me of the small farms you get in parts of southern France. The European theme continued as I entered Guadalajara, the City is massive and cars are bumper to bumper moving very slowly through congested roads. I could have been in Madrid, Athens or Rome, it had that feel - though the drivers are much more disciplined and have greater self control than drivers in these places. The last 10km to the hotel took an eternity.  I found the hotel relatively easily and was ensconced by 4pm in the room and set about my daily ritual - shower/wash clothes, hang up and start recharging the devices and checking emails. Well, in order to write this blog I am sat in the doorway with iPad perched on a clothes drier facing in the best possible place to pick up a signal - to give you some ideas how bad it is, the two small pictures above took 40 minutes!!
An after thought, there may be a theme developing in my choice of hotels, while writing this blog I was literally shaken from the noise coming from outside - My first thought was, 'It's one of those bloody volcanoes'. I ran to the window to find out and this is what I saw......

Look closely - Yes it is a Helicopter
(This took 5 minutes to download - though I was hanging out of the third floor window on the landing!!
Sweet dreams to all those night Owls and Good morning to the Larks, I'm off for food

September 21st Parral to Zacatecas 
Strange the different mindsets of different nationalities - or maybe today I just witnessed peer group pressure. I awoke early and packed my bags and gear i had drying out from my camping trip - which took forever. By eight o'clock I was ready for breakfast, I walked outside to find my new biker buddies where I left them the night before - cleaning their bikes. You would not believe  it, they were cleaning already clean bikes. My bike by comparison is absolutely covered in dead flies and insects and red and yellow juices. I now know why non of the 17 Mexicans have parked their bikes next to mine - something contagious perhaps. However Nora virus is low down on their priorities it seems!!
They were all up and away before I'd packed my bike - I'm still tinkering with Tinker Belle, trying to find the best set up for balance, accessibility and convenience. Its still work in progress. The biggest problem being, because I keep changing my packing arrangements when i need to find something I need to go through every pannier and bag before I have success.
I wasn't looking forward to today as iI knew I had a very long ride, mainly on motorways, 420 miles to be precise. After the thrills of the last 2 days this was always going to be an anticlimax. I've found that being alone for so long you do try to find the positive out of the smallest thing - something to make you smile. My first smile for the day was at a filling station at just past the halfway stage. The petrol attendant was transfixed by my GPS and the icon of my motorcycle showing him exactly where we were - which he recognised. He kept looking at the screen and scratching his head. He was perplexed by something  and eventually asked me three times, 'If it showed the bike, how come it didn't show him' Sad thing was, he was serious, he thought I was holding out on him.

On my long journey I had little in the way to distract me and I got to thinking about the blog. When asked before I left if I would keep some form of diary I was insistent I wouldn't . I didn't think that I would want to be bothered, as most of my thoughts and perceptions do remain with me as I have a good memory recall, so what would be the point. However, having given it some thought and brought together the experiences of many peoples over the last few weeks, I believe humans without a sense of purpose can easily get lost. John Paul Satre wrote brilliantly about this in his philosophical work Being and Nothingness. In short he said we need to make sense of our world and our place in it. In order to feel secure and grounded many of us seek the comfort of ritual/routine in order to create a perception of certainty/reality in an uncertain world. I suppose my blog is just that, with an ever changing landscape and no ritual at all, my blog is the only certain thing that I can control.

I have a love hate relationship with this blog , as I now feel I have to do it. last night I started at 12am and finished at 1,30pm (as you can tell from the typos, spelling and grammar). I was half asleep towards the end and just yearned for my pillow. But if I hadn't done it it would have been hanging over me all the next day. Tonight I have the luxury of not having to get up early so I'm happyy to rabbit on. Tomorrow is a 200 mile drive into Guadlaharja so shoul,dn't take longer than 4 hours.

The other memorable thing from today was an area around 100 miles or so north of Zacatecas, there was the most stunning landscape with classical cone shaped volcanoes (extinct I am hoping). It looked like a scene from Lord of the Rings. One especially large volcano dominated the skyline and stood alone with a very large plain all around. In my musings I took it to be Mordor, THEN THE PRACTICAL SIDE OF ME THOUGHT Why didn't Peter Jackson use this landscape - closer to California, cheaper labour and fantastic light etc - Then I remembered he's a Kiwi - probably wanted to see the folks!

A bi-product of this landscape was the motorway, which one could tell had only been surfaced relatively recently, was potholed beyond comprehension, for twenty miles or so there were cavernous holes everywhere. This is the closest I have ever got to playing a computer game. Seeking to avoid as many as possible, the small ones took away five points and landing in a big one subtracted me 50 points. It was a spectacular site as juggernauts, almost in unison appeared to dance around the obstacles making it look like a synchronised ballet or swim or even Mexican Tango. It was bizarre, for all rules of the road were disengaged as traffic in whatever direction sought to find their best route - consequently one had to be vigilant as frequently larger vehicles coming in the opposite direction were meeting you head on. For the anal amongst you, I lost 70 points - one big and four little ones - mind you Tinks enjoyed the change from monotonous motorway riding.

Zacatecas is a pretty town by Mexican standards, set on a hillside with attractive houses in their pretty colours standing out from the landscape - I shall explore more tomorrow. The Hotel I'm in seems to be of a leisure complex and a high spot for the locals. While eating in their restaurant there was the sound of music, NFl in the bar next door and a large event in another room next door that involved lots of female whooping and screaming. I had a lovely meal though and beer, all for £9. Earlier in the evenings I'd filled in an Expedia review in which I mentioned  the wifi was intermittent, the TV was poor quality reception and I couldn't lock my door and to my surprise a few hours later there was a knock at my bedroom door  with a poor waiter offering me a big bowl of fruit. So I now have breakfast for tomorrow! I had a thought afterwards, I should have asked him how to lock the door, but that would have churlish don't you think?

Apart from my ramblings nothing much happened today or perhaps it did and I just didn't notice.

September 20 - 21st  Creel -Copper Canyon
WOW. WOW. WOW! Before I talk about my last two days let me clear up two issues - the pronunciation of the state, its as per the dog - Chee- wow - wa. The people are locally also called Tarahumara and this is also the same as the language they speak.
If I was to say to you that no photos does the Copper Canyon justice and no words can accurately describe the majesty and beauty of the place then it will give you some idea of the awe and wonder it left me with. I cannot believe that the Grand Canyon tops this, this place must be its equal. It is not one canyon, but a number of canyons that converge but also run parallel to the more famous Copper Canyon.
I was told to be at the shop at 7.30 am to get an early start, I suspected that this was Mexican machismo  so turned up at 7.45am after my fitful nights sleep. Upon arrival the gates were locked and nobody was around. At 8.10 Chito (pronounced ch not sh - although at 8.05 am I used the sh form as it seemed more appropriate)! turned up. At 8.30 Enrique arrived and then both Enrique and Chito disappeared for half an horror so. I was entertained by a German teacher who had booked onto another trip, and we discussed Brexit which we both agreed neither of us could believe!! Eventually we were on our way at around 10am. The German guy went with Chito in his smart Nissan 4wd and me with Enrique in a 1997 GM 4WD. Apparently the delay was because they couldn't get the American dream wagon to start.We climbed for about 40 minutes on sealed road with many switchbacks and eventually reached our turn off onto an unsealed track. Seeing this made be wish I'd brought my bike and followed Enrique. The track however got increasing more treacherous with steep rocky ascents and descents, until the track appeared to run out altogether and we were just picking our way across open wilderness - or so it appeared to my eyes. This continued for about 10k when suddenly Enrique said 'There's my sister' and came to a sudden halt outside a hut which was commonly referred to as The Mission. Enrique got out the car and I tried to but the door didn't work, Enrique cam around to open my door. His sister he said was a Doctor and came frequently to look after the health needs of the Tarahumara. Outside was a collection of women who lived some miles from this mission and had travelled on foot from the numerous individual homes that pepper these isolated mountains.

These lovely ladies have had to walk from their primitive homesteads to visit the local health professional.

When i first saw this collection of huts I thought this was their abode but I later discovered that nothing was further from  the truth. The mission is a place where the indigenous population come for their healthcare. 

We eventually finished up at  the end of the line, at least as far as four wheels are concerned. Enrique spoke very little English but we managed to communicate in a rudimentary way. After sometime I realised that he reminded me very much of Colin Richardson. In looks not his ability to speak English I mean (sorry Colin)

From the very off, the walk was stunning and I couldn’t stop myself from taking photographs. But at every turn the views just got better. It had now got hot and the going underfoot was hard. The track was only noticeable once Enrique had started along it. It was not marked or really self evident where one went. For the non walkers the best way I can describe it was like those children’s find the 'hidden objects' picture books, only when you found the object did it become obvious.

Our first stop was when Enrique realised he had no matches for a campfire and had spotted in the distance a very simple hut with a small elderly Tarahumara women attending her bean crop. The hut was delightful, but it must have leaked terribly in the rains and it really was very rudimentary - more of a shelter through European eyes. Enrique managed to gain some matches under the promise that he would return them the next morning. I thought nothing of it and was just grateful for the short rest to admire the views and drink the last of my water.

I asked Enrique later that day if we would be returning the same way as we entered and he informed me no -  I was then saddened because he must have known that, when he promised this lady to return them. He went down in my estimation and I made in my own mind conclusions which would later be challenged. The scenery was magnificent and even with sore feet, dry mouth and damp sticky clothing I was completely in love with the place- it was spectacular. 

After 6 hours of walking and some amazing views of the canyon Enrique said this is where we camp for the night. It was sublime, there was a rocky mossy overhanging canopy which had water dripping of its rim down into a hollowed out log. Never has water tasted so sweet. Places like this are used by the native Tarahumara as they tend to their free roaming cows and goats,. Close by on a very steep scree slope was planted neat rows of what i was informed were beans. This really was subsistence farming. After drinking lots of this water we put up tents and began gathering wood from the nearby slopes - this was really hard work in the muggy heat and difficult terrain. After what seemed an eternity Enrique said we had enough, which surprised me as I would have made that call after the first 1/2 hr. The bonfire was easily and quickly lit and then we heard the distant sound of thunder which with each passing minute seemed to be getting closer.From his bag of tricks Enrique conjured up the most wonderful food which tasted all the better as I hadn’t eaten properly at all that day. We had Tortilla for starter followed by a baked spud with a cheese filling, with a lovely bowl of soup to finish it all off. By this time it was dark and the increasing black clouds made it darker than normal for this time of day. We just finished our meal and the heavens opened, thunder and lightning. A primitive washing up of dishes and we both went to our separate tents.

This was only the third time I had put up my tent so I was unsure if it would keep the water out - it did much to my relief and before long I was woken by Enrique’s alarm going off at 6.30am. Quickly packing up our wet tents and other paraphernalia we off and on our way by 7. I had to be back at the Hotel for 11, so as not to have to incur the cost of another days stay. We climbed very steeply for 45 minutes and the effort reminded me of climbing up was Yew Barrow dale on the Bob Graham Round- hard work. But  having seen such amazing landscape I was reminded of Nick Buxton’s famed mantra from our trips on the Polaris - We had to graft for it!

The walk out took us just under 3 hours and would have taken less for after about 1hr we stopped and Enrique told me to wait there while he ran back to the old lady to return the matches. I felt pleased and embarrassed all in a split second. My horrible thoughts I’d had the previous day felt mean and hasty when I saw this 37 year old mountain goat head in the direction of where we’d been the day before. He told me he’d be 10 minutes, he was near 40 mins, but it didn’t matter as the view was better than any tv screen or painting for that matter and his sincerity was re assured in my mind. Eventually arriving back at the car was such a relief, my motorcclye boots were beginning to blister the soles of my feet and again I was a little dehydrated, just to sit in that car seat was a joy. it was a joy that was extended  well beyond  what was reasonable. THE BLOODY CAR would not start. Enrique proceeded to clean and disconnect the battery terminal. Still it wouldn’t start, I thought this was strange as the lights on the dashboard were still on and I told him this, intimating that I thought it might be the starter motor. Enrique went back to his diagnosis and cleaned and rubbed the terminal numerous times with no success. He even resorted to the last chance saloon - he started bashing it with a stick. I found this hilarious and half expected him Manuel style to say 'Que'. He eventually put the car into gear and let it roll down the slope and instantly the car started - as  i expected the starter motor had been freed and operated properly. By this time we had wasted a further hour.

The drive out was as scary as it was coming in, though it was made more pleasant by the addition of a Tarahumara family who we picked up as they walking the 10 miles to the nearest village to sell their beans. Mother had a small child of a few months wrapped in a cloth and stung around her shoulder and neck.They would have already walked miles from some tiny outpost somewhere in these remote hills. Typically these huts have no running water, electricity or the luxuries we associate with the 21 century. But they looked cared for and well tended which is more than one can say for their urban neighbours. Theirs is a primitive lifestyle but they looked happy and at peace with the world.

Arriving back at the hotel late was no problem, but I quickly packed up and headed out of town. My previous plan to drive to Guachochi settlement went out of the window for two reasons, firstly I didn’t want to see the abject poverty of native peoples in a village environment where alcohol and hopelessness ruled, when I'd just experienced a more positive image. and secondly it was 1pm and I had 256 mile to get back to PARRAL.

The journey back was uneventful but turning into the hotel was like entering a bikers rally there were 17 BMWs and Ducatis with Mexican riders. They embraced me wholeheartedly and I joined them for a hard earned beer (happy hour here meant 2 hrs and free drinks). I just had the one, because I hadn’t showered or changed my clothes since the 2 day hike. I went back to the room, showered, changed my clothes and washed all my dirty clothes before going to meet my new best friends for dinner and of course another drink.

A MOST ENJOYABLE 2 DAYS THAT WILL STICK IN MY MEMORY FOR EVER.