Thieves in the Night

Day 16 - Sunday, November 17th
Macuspana to Agua Azul

An Ancient People Revisited

For once, we headed out at our agreed time and headed for Palenque, a Mayan ruin only an hour to the east. The day was warm and humid, a feeling we had craved for so long we began to fear we’d never experience it again. The humidity was so great, it was possible that nothing we owned would be completely dry for a few weeks. We realized we were experiencing what the local people have lived through for decades. Of course, on a motorcycle, you don't really have the option of air-conditioning and environment controls. But if they can do it so can 5 rugged biker dudes. Time will tell.

Getting to Palenque was smooth and quick, a pace we needed after such a trying day yesterday. Along the way, we passed a farmers union strike. The price of corn was selling for less than the cost to grow it, causing major turmoil in a large part of the rural population. There is little government aid to bolster this sector of the economy. Just a few thousand starving farmers and their big families. We formed a "V" for Victory with our fingers and held it up in support of their cause as we rolled passed their impressive highway-side picket lines.

We pulled into the parking lot at the ruins, made a basecamp amongst the tour buses, and put our prearranged plan into action. Alex and Jim went back to town for some chow and errands, Jay and David cruised the monsterous ruins while Gary looked after the bikes gear and caught up on the journals. Everyone met back at basecamp and the last three went off to explore the site, clambering up and down the sun-bleached ancient buildings rising majestically out of the dense jungle. We were in agreement that it was an impressive testament to a once mighty and advanced culture. Even bikers can appreciate that.

The Ruins of Palenque

At the entrance to the ruins, souvenir shops and artisan stalls are run by locals. These descendants of the Mayans are markedly different than the Mexicans we have encountered thus far. Their skin tone is richer and very pure, their faces framed by very long black hair. Their language is very old, nothing to do with Spanish, although they all speak Spanish as well. Over 22 dialects are still spoken in this area.

After this archaelogical excursion, we headed straight for Agua Azul, our slumber town, hoping to do a bit of swimming or horseback riding (as if we haven't been on our butts enough). On the way, we all got a bad feeling. David, who was pegged in the goggles by a whizzing orange peel, slammed on his brakes and went chasing after the runt that threw it. Successfully nabbing him, his reprimands went unacknowledged as his Spanish fell far short of being effective. He tried English and appeared at least to scare the heck out of the boy and his friends, who went tearing off into the woods dropping oranges along the way.

The roads were mountainous and very wet. A light drizzle was falling. We missed a turn and by the time Gary realized it, he, David and Jay were already 3 miles past the turn-off. On their way back they found Jim and Alex helping pull a car out of a ditch. It had skidded off the road crossing the opposite lane before ending up headlights first in the thick brush. We couldn't help but think of the consequences of being in the oncoming lane when that car rounded the bend. The timing was too close for comfort.

This helped slow us down a bit and we made it to Agua Azul (Blue Water) without incident. The waterfalls were more of a muddy brownish green by the time we arrived. Swarms of children and other locals gathered to inspect our bikes.

Keeping a Good Balance
We couldn't shake the feeling we were being set up, that someone was scoping out our gear for nefarious reasons. It didn't feel safe so we hung by the bikes until the crowd thinned. We never made it horseback riding.

Alex and Gary found a resident of the falls willing to let us park our bikes and setup our tents on the cement porch of his palapa, a straw-roofed patio. A thin layer of dry mud on top of the concrete attested to the potential flooding being so close to the falls. 10 pesos per tent was the deal we struck, and as the last busload of tourists drove away, we were left alone with the resident restaurateurs and the mosquitos.

The sun set as we set up our campsite. Jim and David went off to the waterfall to get clean and cool off. They stumbled into the moonlit waters carefully feeling each rock underneath their hands and feet. The pounding waters beat away the tension of the days ride.

Sorry David, the road ends here!

Everyone settled into a mellow state. Gary and Jay talked of home and distant friends while sharing soup on Jay’s camping stove. David and Jim, reborn from the waters, took the computer up to a restaurant for some journal writing. Alex ate, read, and met a trio of backpacking Israelis who joined us under the palapa.

The dark clouds made good on their threat and the rains began. Not like the drizzle of earlier in the day, but a real torrential downpour. Jay, who had pitched his tent in the grass, watched the roof of his coccoon-tent sag under a growing weight of water and the ground underneath become a veritable pool. The huge flying bugs with pincers dissuaded him from sleeping out in the open on the concrete. He joined Alex and Gary in their tent for a tight but cozy slumber.

Miles - 130

Day 17 - Monday, November 18th
Agua Azul to Chetumal

Sometime during the night, undeterred by the rain, the nearby presence of 8 sleeping bodies, and the imposing shadows of 5 huge motorcycles, unknown hands silently sifted through our gear.

In the morning, the damage was discovered. Gary noticed his bag of bread was missing, and David his water bottle. Unfortunately, these benign and easily replaceable items were not all that was missing. As we suited up to drive away, David couldn't find his Aerostich jacket's fleece lining and in horror the $800 cash that was stashed inside. Turning everything inside out, neither of these items resurfaced. Before going to bed, David had carefully made sure that all of the expensive, high-tech items were securely put away. But in the darkness, something was missed, and the gray light of morning revealed the sad truth.

Totally bummed, we rode out from under our tarnished haven into an absolutely miserable morning. The rain was still coming down, and the once brownish falls were now a definitive muddy red. Several of the banks had collapsed as the stream swelled way beyond its normal boundaries. No wonder the guide book said not to go the day after it rained. Jay and Gary took their bikes up a wet and rocky path to the water's edge for some loony photo ops. David roared up after them, more to blow off a little steam then for the sightseeing potential.

The entire ride back to Palenque was slow and wet, but once in town, the rain abated. David went off to make a police report; the rest of us drank hot chocolate and stared at the grey clouds overhead. The sting of the theft still weighed heavy on everyone's mind, and we all thought of ways to be more cautious in the future.

No one was looking forward to the long ride ahead to Chetumal at the border of Belize way on the eastern side of the Yucatan. The inclement weather didn't help our foul moods either. When we inquired as to the prospect of rain up ahead, we were told it was raining all over the peninsula. But we found that this was not entirely the case.

Today we learned the true meaning of "scattered showers." It was a constant patchwork of sunny, warm and humid, and rainy, windy, and cool. As we encountered each of the rainy patches, our confidence in our tires increased; we were soon riding as quickly in the rain as not. (To those who don't ride bikes, tire technology is so advanced that nearly all of the traction is still available in the rain. The important thing is to stay out of the middle track where oil from four-wheel vehicles accumulates and to go easy on the brakes, slowing by down-shifting instead.)

At the midway point in Escarcega, we fueled up at a busy truckstop before the final 120 mile stretch to Chetumal and that's when things went a little awry. Alex went ahead first, followed a few moments later by Jim and Jay. When David and Gary pulled out a couple minutes after that, David in the lead, they took off in what seemed to be the logical way to go. But out of the corner of his eye, half-hidden by the semi-trucks clogging the roadway, Gary saw a sign pointing to the right. His interpretation of the map hinted at a possible right turn ahead. Although earlier than expected, he was positive this was the turn, so he stopped, hoping David would see him hang back. When David continued on unknowingly, Gary rode fiercely after him, pushing the bike to its absolute top speed, every bolt and bag vibrating violently, and finally caught him after 3.5 miles. David was going to slowly either.

Sheepishly, they made an about face and went back to Escarcega, this time taking the turn to Chetumal to the East. They discussed the possibility that the others had made the same mistake and if so, what to do about it. The others had too much of a head start to be caught, so hoping for the best, David and Gary took off for Chetumal.

An hour down the road, they stopped for salami and avocado sandwiches at the entrance to one of the many Mayan ruins that dot the entire Yucatan peninsula. The security guard at the gate assured them no other bikes had passed in the last half hour. If indeed this was true, David and Gary attempted to second guess what the others would do if they couldn't make Chetumal by that night.

Unable to put themselves in the shoes of their directionally challenged comrades, they decided to continue on another 40 miles to Xpujil, a bedraggled jungle town with an unexpectedly high ratio of military to civilian personnel. For the first time in 3000 miles, David had to provide proof of his American citizenship. And he had to explain about salmon jerky, which lay beside his passport in his tank bag. Giving the others 30 minutes to show up, David and Gary dismounted and stretched their tired bodies.

Back on the wrong road, Jim and Jay had marched on innocently for a decent while. When Jay realized his shadow was on the wrong side of his body to be heading east, he glanced at his map and realized the error. Not even sure that Alex was even ahead of them, they kicked the bikes into high gear and raced ahead. Their guesswork paid off, they caught Alex; and so after 30 miles in the wrong direction, they placed their tail between their legs and hightailed it back. An already long day had just become longer. The concept of a speed limit disappeared completely, and the asphalt became a conduit for mach speed. Damn the rain. Full speed ahead!

Better than an Umbrella

David and Gary, sucking back orange sodas, had only been resting in Xpujil for 10 minutes when they saw the wind-blown faces of their comrades pull up to the military checkpoint at the only intersection in town. Figuring they had stopped for a total of 45 minutes in the last 2 hours, including a 15 minute photo op at a Mayan site just off the main road, and if the others had gone 60 miles out of the way, then they must have maintained an average speed during the 100 miles to Xpujil of... well, you do the math.

Within no time, it was back on the bikes for the final 70 mile push to Chetumal. A few more patches of rain, the moon replacing the hardly-seen sun in the sky, a quick fill-up on the outskirts of Chetumal, and the friendly lights of the Hotel Casablanca welcomed the weary travellers for their last night in Mexico.

The name of the hotel brought back memories of their first full day in Mexico two weeks back. It seems so long ago that we began our odyssey. We've already been through so much together, we can only imagine what lies ahead.

Miles - 350 (Alex, Jay, and Jim - 410!)

Total Miles to Date - 3302 (by Gary's odometer)

Okay, everyone, we've been easy on you these past few entries. But now its time to put your money where your mouth is. Lets not forget what we're out here for, besides amassing such great stories for all of you to howl and cackle and cringe over. If you don't know where this is leading, you don't know too much about the Riding to the Moon event. The American Cancer Society and Save the Children need your support to continue their incredible life-saving work. Cruise our web site for donation information and give what you can. See you all in Belize.

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