A Two in a Million Meeting

"Copy, Loud and Clear...Right Behind You, David."

Although we went a respectable distance, we didn't get as far as we'd planned. We were shooting for Los Mochis which is another 100 miles south, but a late start and a long lunch intervened. The ride was, quite frankly, more of the same -- long stretches of straight, hot highway. The desert begrudgingly gave way to a more verdant farmland. We saw many "winter" crops along the way: cotton, corn, and a variety of other vegetables unidentifiable to our urban eyes.

In the late afternoon Alex & Jim went grocery shopping for the evening's dinner, as we intended to camp out that night. But we couldn't find a suitable spot and ended up at the Hotel California in Navajoa. The manager there had attended two years of high school in the U.S. and gave us a room with 3 beds (2 doubles and a single) for 100 pesos (~ US $13). The room was quite small, and by the time we had unloaded the bikes, none of the floor was visible.

Dave Calling Home via the Satellite Phone!

David set up the SkySite (satellite phone) and made a quick call and then allowed the manager to call a friend in the states. Then David and Gary spent considerable time reviewing digital pictures from the Ricoh camera to select a few to include in this journal. Jim fired up the laptop connected to the satellite phone and was able to upload a second journal entry (days 3 & 4). Unfortunately, the connection didn't seem to like uploading big files, so Jim was unable to upload any of David & Gary's photographic selections.

Jason, Alex, and Jim did some scouting and found a club outside of town that looked like a nice place to unwind later that night, but by the time David and Gary wrapped up the satellite phone, the day had taken its toll and the other 3 had gone to sleep. Undeterred, David and Gary went boldly into the night to check out the club, El Cerrito, stayed for a short while, ran into some of the other residents of the Hotel California, and returned to the hotel room, tiptoeing carefully through the detritus of all the gear to join the others in blissful slumber.

Miles - 218

As with everywhere we go, the motorcycles garner a lot of attention. We have not seen any motorcycles as big as ours on the road. In fact, the first question any of us hears is "De donde viene?" (Where do you come from?).

Then consider five of the beastly KLR 650s roaring into town with large black cases mounted on either side (thanks Pelican), and another case behind the rider (thanks RobRoy). The riders roll in wearing brightly colored matching Arai helmets and full Aerostitch riding suits. We look like, well, like a group on its way to the moon!

Alex and Some Future Bikers

Add to this the spectacle of the bikes parked on the main street of a small Mexican town with a satellite antenna sticking up from the back of one bike, and a laptop computer placed on the seat of another bike while we make our connection to Cyberspace, and you get an idea of the impression we leave along the way.

The daily routine, if you could call it that, involves us getting packed up, which is no mean feat. For example if we are staying in a cheap motel, it will generally take us an hour to pack up our stuff from the room and reload it onto the motorcycles.

Next we head out, try to cover 30-60 miles before stopping for gas and maybe a light breakfast. Then we continue on and try to cover as much ground as we can before 1pm when the sun becomes prohibitively hot. The genesis of the siesta has become painfully obvious - from 1 to 3 in the afternoon, the only reasonable strategy is to find some shade (sombra) and sit as still as possible. In the late afternoon, we head to the nearest town we can reach before dark. We are assiduously trying to avoid riding at night although the sun still sets early, and we have done a fair bit of night riding.

The roads here are a nightmare. Total insanity. Semi trailers bumper to bumper, buses doubling the national speed limit (which is totally disregarded by everyone), blue smoke pouring out, windy and narrow, no shoulder, pothole riddled, dead dog, weasel, skunk, miscellaneous, and unidentifiable wildlife-laden roads. People pull out to pass right in front of you, see you, and still keep coming!

Generally, we do not know where we will be staying, neither what city nor whether in cheap motel or tent, until an hour or two before we arrive. As a daily ritual this can be a little unsettling, but with the nature of the trip and so many unknowns, "flexibility" is the watchword of our journey.

Doctor Kout Examining his Patient
We had already ridden for most of the day, it was about 110 degrees and 90% humidity, and Gary's bike starts pouring antifreeze out the water pump overflow. We gotta stop every 15 min, check the reservoir and fill it up. We make it 120 kms to Culiacan. After about half a dozen calls home we decide it's a bad impeller seal. We find a Kawi dealer!... guess what, they've never seen a KLR before. The managing partners, Ernesto and Marco, great guys, did some shopping around for us, found the part in Monterrey, and arranged to have it sent via plane to be at the dealership tomorrow at 2:00pm, beautiful!

We all showered up and headed out for some pizza. Having absolutely no idea of where we were going, Jim though it best to go to where young adults hang out, such as the university. Directions from some locals had us going most of the way across the city and we really felt lost. At one big intersection, we got a little split up; some of us wanted to go right, some left, and by the time the dust cleared, there was a biker at each corner, each one expecting to lead the others to the promised pizza pie. Then the totally unexpected, and miraculous happened. A small white pickup truck pulled up into an alleyway just off the intersection and stopped. Hoping he just wanted to help us find our way, we cautiously approached the vehicle.

Lo and behold, it was Marco, from the Kawasaki dealership! He lived just down the street and was on his way home. He had spotted the bikes (hard to miss) and stopped. In a city of almost a million people, we knew only 2. And here was one of them, in a distant part of the city, ready to yank us out of our predicament and shine a bright beacon down the proper path. We couldn't persuade him to eat with us, so we bid him a good night. Glowing from our good fortune, we found a pizza parlor in no time.

After Jim and Jay smoked everyone (including the locals) at a 7 game foos-ball tournament on the table in the pizza restaurant, we walked next door to "Carlos and Charlies" for a taste of some real Mexican entertainment. A 10 piece band consisting of violins, guitars, and trumpets, wowed us for many songs. We were obviously in the heart of Mexico because we stood out like sore thumbs. The entire crowd (except for us) was made up of locals. They made us feel right at home, though. It was a warm festive atmosphere with everyone singing and laughing.

We drove through the quiet streets back to our hotel, echoes of the mariachi music in our heads. For the first time, we truly felt immersed in the joy that is the Mexican culture. And we were loving it.

Miles - 233

(This entry was sent from the Universidad Autonoma de Guadalajara. Thank you to Jorge Covarrubias.)