A Little Roadside Confusion

Day 14 - Friday, November 15th
Cordoba to Catemaco

We knew we didn't have too far to travel today, having chosen our destination of San Andres Tuxla by group consensus the night before, so we slept in a little. We had parked the bikes around the corner from the hotel in a secured lot, so in teams, we pulled the bikes out to pack them up.

Rise and Shine with a Smile

David and Gary rode up to the zocalo for a quick bite of huevos rancheros, Alex and Jay went to the market for fruits, and Jim wandered the hardware stores to find a makeshift plug for his gas tank vent to stop the slow leak.

Having missed what was surely a gorgeous descent from the Sierras the night before due to the fog, we riders were in for an incredible treat. The whole day was spent riding gracefully curving roads through lush, verdant foliage and farmland. The humidity was welcomed by our dry skin, and our eyes were pleased to see colors other than sandy brown. In fact, the only color we really did see was green. Green everywhere. Green, green, green. The word for the day was green.

From Gulf to Shining Gulf
After a few hours of pure riding pleasure, we got our first glimpse of the Gulf of Mexico. We drove out to the beach for some lunch - sandwiches and fruit. Jay took one look at the off-road potential, downloaded his bike, and like a kid in a candy store took off into the dunes, wowing us all with his sand-riding mastery.

David Doing Donuts

Eager to fire old synapses from his youthful days of dirt-bike riding, David took his own bike and went right in after Jay. Within a few yards, he was helplessly bogged down. Of course, it didn't help to have 100 pounds of gear still on the bike. Jay selflessly said, "Take mine, buddy. Do what you want. I don't even care if you crash it. You can't hurt it in this stuff." Boy, do we love the Canadian. Lighter and with even more horsepower (due to Jay's supertrap exhaust), David went whizzing off down the beach.

Further down the road, we saw our first bit of culture - the Olmec head in Santiago Tuxla. It was, in a word, big. They say, in fact, that it is the biggest Olmec head ever found. Interesting, huh? So we saw it, and continued on. We arrived in San Andres Tuxla so early, we decided to go to the next town instead. Besides, the five of us have grown to prefer the smaller quaint towns instead of the bigger ones with their noise, pollution, and in general, worse accomodations.

Catemaco fit the bill. Situated on a large lake, the town was quaint and friendly while not being so small that there was nothing to choose from. Some of the smaller towns are indeed small. The only thing to distinguish them from a building or two on the side of the highway is a couple speedbumps.

We think the speedbumps are designed to ruin the suspension of drivers, forcing them to stay for a day or two and spend a few pesos. Doesn't work on us two-wheelers though, with our beefed-up shocks compliments of Progressive Suspension. In fact, we hardly even slow down, prefering to do wheelies right over them instead.

What really slows us down is all of the livestock in the road. Horses, cows, pigs, dogs (real dumb pregnant ones), chickens, turkeys, snakes, etc. The dead animals are no problem, but the live ones (soon to be dead) just wander out completely unaware of oncoming traffic. Vultures descend on the dead carcasses to pick at the remains, taking flight only nanoseconds before the relentless onslaught of our spinning rubber.

The search for accomodations in Catemaco didn’t turn up anything interesting. A friendly local suggested a place on the lakefront a few miles up the road. Jim and Gary went to check it out and gave it the seal of approval, but what we got was a little bizarre. For the second time on the whole trip, we camped out, but this time it was Mexican style. We rented what was essentially a hotel room with no beds or furniture whatsoever. No discussions or dealmaking between us, we all got the floor.

David, Gary and Jim went into town for dinner. Jay and Alex stayed behind to work on the bikes and do some male bonding. Alex put on his Woods Pro hand guards from Meier. Had he done this long ago, his levers might not look like candy canes. Then again, since they were already bent, he didn't have to saw the ends off them like David and Jim to install the handguards.

Jay installed one of the Nady bike alarms and went a few rounds with the sensitivity setting. At first the "most sensitive" setting was anything but; he could have thrown his bike off a high cliff without triggering the alarm. After tweaking it a little, he would barely look at his bike and the alarm would go off. Although it was a little tempermental, probably aggravated by the extreme heat and humidity, a bike alarm is a very handy item and a good thing to have when travelling through questionable territory. A bonus aspect of the bike alarm is that it can act as a verticle-position warning system. In other words, when the bike falls over in the middle of the night, we'll all know right away.

But it never did and we slept soundly through the night.

Miles - 168 miles

A Night on the Lakeside

Day 15 - Saturday, November 16th
Catemaco to Macuspana

All in all, this would have been a perfect day if it wasn't for us. By day's end, we had taken a serious blow to our group dynamic.

It all began innocently enough. We arose just after dawn at 7:00 am sharp. Needing to finish up from the night before, Jay and Alex had planned on going into town for some fresh oil for Alex's bike at 8:00 am when the gas station opened. But the time came and went as Alex and Jay enjoyed the soothing atmosphere of the cool morning by the lakeside. Finally, at 9:30, Jim and David zoomed off into town determined to get the oil, not only for Alex, but for themselves as well.

Back at the trailer park, the front walk became an improptu bike shop. Filling trashcan after trashcan with the bikes' precious black blood, David, Jim, Alex and Jay played mechanic. Gary took the time to add a few new stickers; one beauty in particular was achieved after some delicate surgury - turning Virago into Virgo (and thus Gary christened his bike: "The Virgin").

By the time the transfusion was complete and all the oil had been carefully collected for recycling, it was 10:30 am. Knowing we had a relatively long ride ahead, tensions were mounting. Gary, Alex, and Jay left first to go into town and buy water. To kill two birds with one stone, Gary ran to make a quick call to the states. David and Jim arrived, and David went to squeeze in a call. Jim wanted too as well, but by then, it was 11:15 pm and we just had to GO!

As we zoomed down the road, we all saw the last drops of our gas supply quickly approaching, not having filled up the night before. The constant stream of Pemex's we’d been seeing for days seemed to have vanished among the interminable roadside foliage. Nor were there the grungy muddy truck stops which offer at least the most basic of services.

Nervous and hungry, we finally saw a friendly green and white Pemex sign. "10 kms ahead" the sign said, and pointed down a lonely looking side road. We convened below the sign and discussed whether or not to go 20 kms out of our way (there and back) or take a chance that soon there would be a Pemex on the main route.

Just then, a green and white pickup pulled up beside us. "Pemex Mobile Testing Unit" was painted on the side of the truck. Figuring he would know, we asked him where the next Pemex was up ahead on the main road. 20 or 30 kms, he said. Praying that we had that much in our tanks, we rode off on our quest for the juice. Of some comfort was the spare quart of gas safely sequestered in the Meier jugs mounted to our handlebars.

Just beyond the next bend only a mile further was another Pemex sign. "16 kms" this one said, and pointed off the main road again but on the opposite side. Dazed and confused, we pressed on. Only one more mile further, nestled amongst the green foliage, was our salvation - a big Pemex station complete with not one but three restaurant options. So much for 20 or 30 kms. As we watched the guy in the Mobile Testing Unit truck drive past, we wondered if he was embarassed about his poor knowledge of his own company or if he even cared at all.

After fuel for our bikes and our bodies, our riding formation quickly went to hell. Normally, we stay in a relatively tight group, alternating lane positions and keeping in sight of one another. But when we need to get somewhere fast and don't feel much like a cohesive whole, we tend to ride at different speeds, eventually putting significant distances between each other. At the next major crossroad, whether it be 5 kms or 50, we always wait up to regroup.

Jay, not having eaten and complaining of a headache and upset stomach, sped off in a huff and disappeared. David and Gary took the middle position and more slowly but with fierce determination wound their way past innumerable trucks, buses, vans, taxis, and all the livestock and roadkill Mexico has to offer. Jim and Alex brought up the rear.

We all met up at the first Pemex in Villahermosa. The pressure was on to come to a consensus on what our evening's accomodation would be. Alex and Jay wanted to camp. Jim and Gary preferred a cheap hotel. David was undecided. A friendly local on motorcycle attempted to lead us en masse to Tabasco 2000, a modern shopping and administrative complex where we could petition the tourist office for advice. But somewhere in between the gas station and our destination, the group fell apart again.

Confused by the roads and lack of signage, David, Gary and Jay missed a turn. Jim and Alex found it straight away and after waiting a few minutes outside a closed tourist office (it was Sunday), they returned to the Pemex station. The other three eventually found the place, but no Jim and Alex. Hoping they were doing the right thing, they also returned to the Pemex.

The tension was visible. Tired of driving around in circles, we decided to ditch Villahermosa and ride out of town, either to find a cheap motel or a suitable camping spot, whichever came first. A clogged detour added to our overall misery and by the time we got to the first toll out of town (argh, another toll!), nobody was in a mood to talk to anybody else. We all just wanted it to fall in our lap and be over. But we would be deprived of that for a little while longer.

On both sides of the road, wide expanses of ranchland beckoned us to lay out our tents and spend the night stargazing. The barbed wire fences, however, were a deterrent. All of the land was privately owned, and none of us relished the thought of waking up to the barrel of a shotgun, resolutely held by some rancher protecting his property. David remembered when he was in Turkey how he would just go up to a house and ask if he could sleep on their property. Noncommittally, we agreed to try this.

At the first house we came upon, Alex went to be our spokesperson. The rest of us sat precariously on the narrow shoulder of highway, in the dark, feeling our backsides tickled by the curb-feelers and mudflaps of passing buses and truck, when fear and disgust changed our minds mid plan. Once again, Jay took off first, closely followed by Jim. Gary and David waited for Alex who had actually succeeded in convincing the poor family to let five helmet-headed ruffians bed down at their roadside hovel (they didn't own any of that lush ranchland).

We regrouped 15 minutes up the road, where a restaurant owner spoke the magic words: "Hotel mucho barrato.” Cheap hotel, our mantra. There it was, Motel del Bosque. Actually, Auto-Motel del Bosque. (If you want to know the difference, ask a Mexican.)

We checked in and were amazed to receive a room with 5 double beds. After a day like this, nobody could stand to sleep with anyone else anyway. We wasted no time mapping out our own territory. Before we could get too far settling in for the night, Jim led everyone into a group discussion to figure out the problems of the day. In other words, we had to get our shit together.

We brought up the following issues: taking too long in the morning which compromised our time at the end of the day, not clearly communicating with each other our intentions and preferences, not sticking to a predetermined plan, not discussing a change in plans when circumstances dictate, not respecting how our own actions affect the group as a whole.

Lounged on our individual beds and in our personal space, we felt safe to voice our own opinions and concerns without fear of reprisal or alienation. The discussion was somewhat emotional but respectful and orderly. (Where is the video to prove it?) The slate was cleaned for the future. Together, we planned the next day and felt confident that things would go much better.

Jay, feeling under the weather, turned in for the night. The rest of us went into town in search of dinner. A smell caught Jim's nose coming from what appeared to be the front porch of someone's residence. We spun the bikes around and blithely sat down for some truly homemade, local cuisine. When we inquired as to the price, Pops assured us that it would be inexpensive; not to worry, that the food they were serving was made with a healthy dose of love. Gee, how much could would that cost?

A Mexican "Happy Meal"

The neighborhood kids came from all over for a view of the gringos. When we left, we thrilled them all by firing up the bikes simultaneously and riding off into the night. "Renegados," one of the little ones called us. And that night, we really were. The Hells Angels would have been proud. Good thing Alex didn't drop his bike.

Miles - 240

(This entry uploaded from the home/office of Chris Clarkson of Island Expeditions in Dangriga, Belize. Thanks Chris!)