Hi kiddies,
Wow, I just read my last post.
Note to self: Don’t write down your thoughts when you haven’t slept for 3-days, especially you’re loaded up on cheap wine - and most importantly, whatever you do, don’t post them to the web!
I promise this one will be purely factual, devoid of being & time, reason, absurdity, religion, vampire bats…and from my perspective, somewhat boring.
Hmm…well, where to begin. The last three weeks have been a bit tumultuous to say the least. After we last heard from our intrepid traveler, he was headed down the southern coast, past Puerto Vallarta. 
I can’t describe how unbearably hot it was, so I won’t. The little towns I passed along the way were very laid back and interesting. I camped along the beach in Perula (got rained on), and Boca de Iguana. Barra de Navidad is an excellent place, well worth checking out if you find yourself in the hood (thanks Shane).
Riding through the city of Manzanillo was absolutely crazy, I had no idea it was such a big industrial machine/port. The terrain was fairly consistent: go up, go down, then repeat. Quite a workout after not being on the bike for 3-months. The humidity was not helping. Unfortunately, the road strayed away from the coast most of the time and the views were limited to intense jungle, plastic coke bottles, birds and bugs.
On the 5th day, I woke up and was on the road by 5AM. Stopped at a little turtle sanctuary south of Maruata, ate breakfast and spoke to some of the local turtle-heads. Let me give a Palin “shout out” to the Eco-nerds of southern Mexico! Anyway, about 15 miles south, I had my first major break-down of the trip.
The lock-bolt on my goose-neck stem sheared. Those of you who ride, may understand the “shit-in-pants” inducing fear one encounters when the handle bars suddenly drop while cruising at 20 MPH. Luckily the tension-bolt held and I was able to slow down and stop. After playing around with a few ideas, I finally admitted it wasn’t something I was going to fix out in the middle of nowhere. I needed a bike shop, or a savvy mechanic. So, after two and half hours of attempting to wave down a bus or a truck, a guy headed in the opposite direction finally stopped to ask if I needed some help.
Sr. Chacho, said he was going to Colima and that I might be able to find someone to fix it there. Colima was 80 or so miles in the opposite direction, but I didn’t have much of a choice at the time. Anyway, Colima ended up being worthless, and after consulting my map, decided my best bet for a decent bike shop would be in Guadalajara. This would also get me off the coast and into the cooler mountain air. So, that night, I caught a bus up to the valley of stones.
I arrived early the next morning and immediately checked into a hotel room. The city was massive and I needed a place to put my bags while I tried to fix the bike. Spent the entire day locating the shop, explaining the problem, and getting to the point where I was somewhat comfortable with the bike again. The guys at the shop were very cool and did their best to help me out. However, they didn’t have a torque wrench, which is needed for tightening the tension bolt correctly. I didn’t have the heart to belittle their Mexican ways, but I had a nagging feeling that they had over-tightened it. (tis tis…overt foreshadowing?)
The next morning, I loaded up the bike and headed back out to the streets of Guadalajara. I was in the middle of a huge city, with no idea of how to get to the road I wanted to be on. As luck would have it, A kind man at the gas station took some interest in my little adventure, and when I explained my predicament, offered me a ride to the outskirts of town. This was a big help and once I saw the maze I would have had to ride through in order to get back to a somewhat normal road, I was happy.
It took me most of the day to ride around a massive lake “Laguna de Chapala”, and camped that night night near Sahuayo (de Morelos). The next day was pretty short, I road through some beautiful rolling hills skirting the Camecuaro National Park and set up camp just west of Zamora (de Hidalgo). I highly enjoyed this area and would like to return to explore it further some day.
The next morning I immediately started riding southeast through what from what I could gather are the Nahuatzen Mountains. It was a nice change of pace from the coast. I was surprised at my ability to climb; the 75F temperature was the most likely cause. I camped out just northwest of the magic-pueblo that is Zacapu in a comfortable field of corn.
I spent the next two weeks riding towards my goal - Oxxaca. I’ll tell ya, woe is to the man who challenges “Las montanias de Mexico” in the rainy season. While I was happy to be out of the heat, the insane climbing, mixed with rain, for 12-days, just about broke me. Don’t get me wrong, the terrain was incredible and finding a place to camp was a breeze. However, everything was incredibly wet. My sleeping bag, tent, clothes, food, etc. I couldn’t dry out because it just kept raining, and raining and raining - get the picture? Cooking was a total farce. When you’re by yourself in these moments, everything becomes an excuse to pack it in and give up. At one point I was even swearing at my bike-gloves for their inability to grip. I saw some amazing little towns - Vaya con Quiroga! - but stay away from Morelia. The people were extremely helpful and accommodating, but it was a bit rough, to put it mildly.
I was traversing the old Mexican gold/silver mining route. It felt eerily similar to the valleys surrounding Park City. Instead of sea level I’ve been accustomed to, I was now fluctuating between what I assume was 6K and 10K feet almost every other day. It was extremely solitary at times, and a bit scary due to the political climate.
The state of Michoacan has been experiencing some trouble with “La Familia” of late. They’re basically the Mob of Mexico, and control everything from heroin to condoms. The police are a bit touchy ever since someone threw a couple of grenade bombs into the crowd during an Independence day celebration in Morelia - Yeah viva Mexico! I was searched head-to-toe by Federales twice. I felt absolutely untrustworthy, but comfortably free of STDs.
The road from Morelia to Hidalgo was quite impressive. I camped in some relatively remote spots. The rain didn’t stop, but at this point I had ceded all my water rights.
About 30 miles outside of Zitacuro, I decided to take a road less traveled due to the traffic I was experiencing. Una mala decicion.
I was headed down a moderate hill, in the rain. I was very tired from a lack of sleep and most critics would argue my speed was too fast for the conditions. When I happened upon some loose gravel, I ended up putting “undo” pressure on my handlebars, the stem immediately failed, and Mr. Q was sent off the side of the road. I hit first on my shoulder, then rolled down a muddy bank about 30 feet.
At this point, all I could manage to do was to try and stand up and get my bearings. I didn’t appear severally injured. My bike seemed fine except for the stem issue, but my panniers where strewn about in every direction. My handlebar bag, which amazingly, came completely off the bike and was now submerged in pool of water. This wasn’t a good thing. My camera, passport, money, keys were all in this bag, I snatched it up before it could find its way into what I could then see was a small river.
I slowly collected all my gear and climbed back up to the road. At this point the adrenaline was wearing off and I could now feel a small amount of pain in my shoulder and lower back. It was understandable considering the spill I took. Once I removed my helmet, I noticed a nice sized crack running down the upper right side. I was pretty lucky the ground was completely saturated with water or things may have been completely different.
It’s always difficult to convince someone to give you a ride when you’re traveling with a bike and and bunch of bags. When it’s raining and you’re covered head to toe with mud, it’s downright impossible. I thought about standing in the middle of the road and forcibly stopping the next truck that came by, but then it occurred to me that I may be mistaken for Chupacabra and be subsequently run down.
I decided to set up camp, try and feed and clean myself, and hope the rain would stop. Once it was clear that I wasn’t going to get a break from the weather, I curled up in my bag and went to sleep.
I woke up the next morning and, happily, the rain had stopped. My body was sore, but not incapable of movement. I was able to load up the bike and at least push it down the road. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but it felt like the right thing to do. Not many cars or buses traveled on this road, but after a couple of hours I came upon a small store. I searched out the owner, told her what happened - I think, and asked her if there was anyone I could pay to give me a ride. She was really nice and immediately started making some calls. Apparently I was in the pueblo of Turcio. Ten minutes later a brother arrived with a pick-up truck and said that he could take me to Toluca for 300 pesos ($20/US). Sold.
Toluca is a rather large industrial city that sits in a valley surrounded by mountains. I spent the day poking around trying to figure out what I was going to do about my bike. I thought about having someone just weld the gooseneck into position, but seeing as it’s aluminum, my guess is they would have either fucked it up permanently - or else we’d both die of gas poisoning. I basically had to replace the stem, and that wasn’t going to be easy. I didn’t like the vibe in Toluca and decided if I was going to wait out a part from the States, I wasn’t going to do it in that shit-hole. So, I hopped a bus to Cuernavaca - where I am today.
I’ve been here about a week now, I’m just hanging out taking a spanish class while my new stem is in transit. I have no idea when it will be here. I took a bus up to Teotihuacan on Sunday. It was a bit “touristy”, but incredible none the least. Check it out on wikipedia while you contemplate your impending layoff.
Also, while getting settled here in Cuernavaca - I discovered my camera zip-lock bag had leaked and my camera was completely soaked. It’s now sitting on a shelf drying out. I have no clue if it works or what the status is of the pictures I took over the last few weeks. Cross your fingers.
Q
PS1
As I’m sure you’re quite well aware, I wasn’t joking around when I said that we will all be living with quite a bit less in the coming years. There’s 30 Trillion with a “T” of CDO/S exposure in the market. Everything you’re reading in the news is merely trying to hide this fact. The bail-out is a farce. My advice - buy a nice bike and hit the road.
PS2
Soros gives a well thought out analysis here. Siding with Camus (recognizing absurdity) and not Rand (embracing self-interest):
If you would like a deeper understanding of the problems you’re facing:
Princeton Economic Pow Wow Link
While Krugman is the star of the show, you should really listen to Marcus; the true genius of the group. I realize you don’t have the time nor the wherewithal to read it, let alone understand it, but maybe I’m wrong:
