Zacatecas to Guadalajara, Jalisco
February 22, 2010
I’m now headed for the coast, and have stopped off along the way in Guadalajara, Mexico’s second largest city. We’re not down to three riders – Anna has set off towards Puebla to work with a street kid foundation, linked to the one she was with in Brazil for three years.
Normally I’d give a metropolis this size a wide berth. Guadalajara seems well worth the detour though, as it sounds incredibly progressive in its bike culture. Every Sunday, much of the heart of the city is closed to traffic – a chance for pedestrians, cyclists and roller bladders to reclaim the streets.
The last few days have seen us climb back up into the mountains on a mixture of paved and dirt roads. We hit some bad weather too, holing up in the forlorn mountain settlement of General Joaquin Amaro, seeking refuge from the downpours that froze us to the bone. Unfortunately we couldn’t avoid taking a few major highways. The constant whoosh of cars, trucks and buses streaming by was a good reminder of why, if you value your well being, it’s well worth tracking down the quiet backroads and forgotten dirt tracks in Mexico.
Feeling lighter... I’ve sent almost 4kg of kit ahead to Puerto Escondido, on the coast in Oaxaca. Mexican internal post is extremely cheap; it only cost about 5 dollars. Apparently it’s reliable…
Keeping toasty round the fire. In fact, having descended a few hundred metres from Zacatecas on the highway, it was a warm evening. The warmest in some time. We soon climbed back up to 2400m in General Joaquin Amaro and felt coldness bite again.
Our campsite, a peaceful spot in a field, set amongst prickly pear cacti and shrubs.
Breakfast time. Ants munching on a cactus.
Little update
February 16, 2010
A ride of mellow backroads...
I’m now heading onwards to Guadalajara, the second biggest city in Mexico - known for its liberal tendencies and colonial splendour.
In the meantime, I’ve expanded a little on the ride from Durango to Zacatecas, as it proved to be such a stunning journey. Read the expanded post here.
Lots of dirt...
Scrub and cacti...
... and chilled pueblecitos.
Walking the streets of Zacatecas
February 15, 2010
It’s great to have finally hit Central Mexico. Zacatecas, the capital of the state of the same name, might just be my favourite place in Mexico so far. Despite the development around it, the city itself oozes character, and feels largely untouched since colonial days. The old, higgledy streets are packed with market produce and street food – tortillas, tomales (meat and cheese wrapped in corn leaves), gorditas (toasted corn tortillas stuffed with goodies), swirls of sweet breads, pointy-leaved agave plants, mysterious vials of herbs, dried rattlesnakes, fresh slabs of cheess, punnets of strawberries, tubs of organic honey…
I’ve spent the last few days riding in the desert that surrounds it, sipping mescal in the evening with fellow travellers, and exploring Zacatecas’ warren of side streets that zig zag out in every direction.
The view from the Villa Colonial Hostel roof terrace.
The baroque cathedral, hewn from local stone in a nearby quarry, was built between 1730 and 1760, and boasts a particularly ornate, florid facade.
It looms high above the sidestreets, giving sense to the city and helping to untangle the confusing array of options.
Founded in founded in 1584 thanks to the abundance of silver in its hills, Zacarecas is awash with beautifully renovated colonial architecture and stone slab paving.
The imposing colonial architecture theme extends along the main street. I, however, was just as impressed by the figure below the traffic light, who runs ever faster as the seconds count down, sprinting manically at the very end.
Zacatecas Cacti Ride
February 15, 2010
Today I: went for a stunning ride in the desert that spills out around Zacatecas, an open and heat parched land, pocked with gold and silver and copper mines. I rode with Carlos and his friends, through colonies of bony-fingered yukkas proding into the sky, and amongst layers of prickly pear cacti…
A biking collective of teachers, artists, store owners, businessmen, anyone, the Alivia2 are amongst the most laid back mountain bikers I’ve met. Their motto: En el mundo de los enfermos, los aliviados son los buenos.
It was great. We stopped here and there to laze around and listen to tunes, fix flats and soak it all up… I met school teacher Carlos in the street, and he’s taken me on three mellow rides.
Heading out in the desert, towards Nueva Australia. Then we turned off and followed a beautiful trail that wound in and out of the yuccas, before slipping and slidding our way over a tide of sand dunes. An amazing ride.
The Yukka might just be my favourite tree. I love how social they look, growing in their colonies. So weird and alien-like.
Desert textures.
Desert critters.
Durango to Zacatecas – yet more dirt…
February 11, 2010
I’ve now made it to the cobbled, higgledy, hilly city of Zacatecas. I’m planning to rest up for the next few days, and then push on to the coast. It’s been a fantastic ride here, almost all on dirt, and a perfect way to celebrate my birthday – a beguiling combination of mellow hills, empty backroads and scenic pueblecitos…
In Durango, we tracked down some excellent maps issued by the Secretaria de Transportes, which has opened up a whole new world of dirt and quiet backroads. In fact, this stretch between Durango and Zacatecas has been a real highlight, and a definite Mexican Hall of Fame contender. Here’s a few pictures…
Local route expert Miguelito guided out of Durango on dirt roads, and we only ended up on the main highway for a short stint.
Multi modal transport: car, bike and horse.
And scenic colonial towns, unlike concrete-clad Chihuahua - like Nombre de Dios.
Truly off the beaten track.
Early evening riding…
And sublime camping…
Santiago Papasquiaro to Durango – hooking up with local bike clubs
February 11, 2010
Back in Tepehuanes we were lucky enough to bump into Abrahim, the town’s only mountain biker. Joining us for a ride, he steered us onto a disused train line that neatly avoided all contact with Mexico’s at times hellish main roads. Abrahim also put us in touch with other riders further south, who in turn have bounced us onwards to yet more contacts down the road. It’s been great.
I’d never have believed it, but it turns out there’s a fledgling but thriving mountain biking scene in the whole of Durango, with each town boasting as many as three or four bike clubs. Interestingly, there are far few roadies around – it seems riding pavement a razor width from 18 wheelers isn’t condusive to the Mexican cycling psyche either.
To me, connecting with locals from a different culture – whether on a ride or sitting round a table munching burritos – is infinitely more enjoyable than working my way through a list of ‘sights to see’. In fact, though I do dip into a guidebook from time to time, I’m not carrying one at the moment. When I hit towns or cities, I’m often quite happy enough simply to amble around or go about my chores – checking over the bike, searching out the best eateries in an attempt to placate the cyclist’s insatiable hunger, catching up with the world wide web, perhaps even washing my dust-soaked clothes… Cycle touring is all about the journey, and given how eventful this inevitably is, I have no qualms about being distinctly lazy when I do finally make my destination.
Plus, hooking up with riders here is a great way of tapping into local knowledge, unearthing dirt roads and singletrack that, more often than not, aren’t marked on any map. Mexico is a great country to cycle across, but it’s well worth making the effort to escape the main roads for both survival and enjoyment…
‘I am a biker!’ Jorge, Jaime and Jose Ramon met us at the entrance to Santiago Papasquiaro, and took us under their wings for the next few days. We camped in a large garden, sharing our space with peacocks, chickens and wifi.
That evening, before we were treated to a dinner of burritos in a local eatery, we swung by the bike shop that hosts the club’s meets so we could meet everyone.
It was a happening scene, with various parts and bikes in states of disrepair dangling from the rafters.
Workshop clutter. I like the image of Gouadeloupe behind the wheel truing stand. On the opposite wall there was a poster of a naked women smoothered in chocolate. The macho culture is strong in Mexico. As Jorge said: I am single. My wife is married to me!
I’m now heading to the city of Durango, the state capital. I’m still trying to keep to dirt roads where possible, with the rest of the dirtbag crew – Jeff, Jason and Anna. It’s some time since we’ve bumped into any other cyclists, let alone foreign travellers, as the route we’ve chosen is one that’s rarely travelled. Yet despite some security concerns in this narco riddled region, and its ferociously buckled topography, it’s one I’d recommed highly. If you really want to get into Mexico’s backcountry and escape its busy main roads, it’s well worth the effort to seek out ‘terraceria’, as dirt roads are called here.
Our fortuitous encounter with Abrahim had unearthed a new route heading south towards Durango. Not on the main road, as we’d feared, but following a disused old mining railway that ran parallel to it. We had it to ourselves. And it was flat! After weeks of toil, such relaxed riding was a novelty – and very welcome.
Abrahim, and his Australian blue heeler, joined us for the first part of the ride.
Camping out in a dry orillo. No need for tents, though I did ponder the fact that Durango’s state symbol is the scorpion. The sting of the Alacran, a deceptively small little critter found only in these parts, can be lethal.
The former train tracks passed by small, ramshackle pueblocitos, where old men leant up in the shade of trees and watched us ride by. ‘Buenas dias,’ we nodded cheerily. ‘Buenas dias touristas!’ came the reply. Clearly our somebreros hadn’t fooled them. Though they did manage to fool us. On one occasion Jason was pondering which way to turn at a junction. 'I’ll ask that Mexican guy on a bike up ahead,' he thought. It was me. And another time, while I was lying in the trail preparing to take a picture, Jeff wondered to himself, 'why’s that Mexican guy lying on the ground?!'
If the hat fits, wear it
February 5, 2010
After rubbing shoulders with sombrero-toting cowboys for the last few weeks, the boys have invested in new headwear for the sunny days ahead, as we near the plains of Central Mexico…
Where to start? Sombreros range from sixty to a thousand pesos.
They may look the same... In fact, we’d entered a new world full of millinery subtleties. Tight weaves, open weaves. High fronts, low fronts. Wide brims, curled brims. Apparently those with particularly rolled sides are called ‘cinco en trocas’ – as that’s what happens when five cowboys sit in a truck.
I was lucky enough to find ‘my’ hat on the first try. Wide, a feather detail, high at the front and a nice weave. As they might say in Mexico: if the hat fits, wear it.
An hour later, we emerged… We felt a million pesos.
El Vergel to Tepehuanes, Durango
February 3, 2010
A paved climb led us out of the funky, colourful cowboy settlement of El Vergel, before we turned back on a dirt track leaving the vast state of Chihuahua and crossed into Durango. Finally! It’s been a long time coming… After a sharp descent, the path rolled up and down towards a ridge, where the occasional small village working the timber trade - oaks, pines and douglas fir - peppered the way.
Up in the juniper forest, there were plenty of good camping opportunities, and ample dry fuel to cook and keep warm. We’ve built a fire almost every night we’ve been in Mexico, laying our pots on the embers, the air rich with the smell of sizzling garlic as we chat or read. Our soundtrack was the call of cayotes. The area is also home to deer, turkeys, razorbacks (wild pigs) and mountain lions.
Max was the first person we met in Durango, and his kindness boded well for the road ahead. After providing us with the rare insight of accurate information for a route the mountains, he appeared from his house bearing gifts of chocis – one of our all time favourite chocolate biscuits – and toilet roll! He’d been surprised to see us camping that morning – apparently no one does that round here – and warmly wished us well for the journey ahead: Que Dios le lleve – May God carry you safely.
The road was still steep in places, but easier going than the last couple of days, and very quiet.
It wounds its way in and out of the forest.
Elido Guazarachi to El Vergel, Chihuahua
February 1, 2010
After a morning soak in the hot springs, it was time to get back in the road. First though, a massive push ‘n bike out of the canyon. Finally, it topped out on a ridge, where clouds were hurtling across the sky.
Mexican style cattle grids. A little extra fun on those endless climbs.
Luckily I came prepared – my Mexican picnic kit was at the ready to keep me going. Spicy salsa, corn chips, tortillas, cheese, avocado, tomatoes, a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lime.
Back in Pinolejo again, the junction village we passed through on our way to the springs. From here, we peeled off onto a different dirt track to bisect the main Guachochi road further down at Baquiriachi.
It was incredible riding, some of the best backcountry trails so far. The riding conditions were rough though – including lots of exposed rock bed – making for slow, filling-loosening progress.
Up and down. Up and down. This seems to be a common theme for riding in the Sierra Madre. When the King of Spain asked Cortez to describe Mexico, he was said to have crumpled up a piece of paper and thrown it on the table.
Whenever we topped out, our eyes scanned buckled ridges for where we might be heading. Armed with little more than the combination of lamentable maps and unreliable local knowledge, it’s hard to glean any distances once you head off the main road – most of these dirt roads aren’t even marked.
Finally, we did hit pavement at the junction settlement of Baquiriachi, and began a fast, winding descent that unravelled through an incredibly dramatic, sheer sided gorge. For a whole 25 kilometres. What an end to the day.
It felt like we were really leaving the Barrancas – the chasm-like canyons – through which we’d toiled for the last few hundred kilometres. 100kph gusts did their best to veer us across the road, as the last light of the day bathed the landscape in a warm glow.
Each tree cast its own shadow.
That night, we camped under the stars in a dry gulch just past Balleza, before joining a dirt road once more at San Juan – a short cut to Los Janitos, on the paved road to El Vergel.
And for once, it was fairly easy going. A quiet, beautiful country back road, where we waved to passing cowboys. Suddenly, it was beginning to feel like this was the lazy, easy going back country Mexico I’d been looking for. The climate felt warmer, and so did the vibe.
Jason, ever the unconventional tourer, even cracked open a can of Tecate to ensure a mellow start to the day.
A little further down the road, we stopped to watch a flock of some fifty vultures, gathered round picking a dead calf – its eyes were long since pecked out. Jeff and Jason challenged me to creep up towards the carcass, and get as close as I could until the very last vulture was scared away. I took my mission seriously. Over the next 10 minutes, I paced surreptitiously ever closer, step by step, until I just a couple of metres from the calf, and there was just one bird left. Thus began the Vulture Standoff – in what was to become a highlight of the day. The vulture leant down to peck at the calf. I stepped forward. The vulture looked up. I stopped. The vulture dummied a peck. I froze mid step. We both waited. We both watched each other. Until the vulture couldn’t resist another peck. And I stepped forward. And the vulture dummied a peck. And I froze mid step. A psychological battle between man and carrion eater.
When all this excitement was over, we hopped back on the bikes and took to the road. Then the climbs began once more. They were steep, but at least they weren’t too long.
In the distance, the dirt road lay draped across the hillside, lurching up and over each mound, as a searing sun beat down upon us.
Offering brief respite, fast descents came in reply, dropping us straight back down again.
It was nice to leave the painted concrete blocks that typify most of the villages I’ve seen in Chihuahua, for the more traditional adobe buildings I associate with Mexico.
Taking the time to seek out these back roads is proving to be really worth it. We had the place to ourselves, bar the odd cowboy, and paused by a river for the perfect picnic lunch. This was fast becoming a classic ride. Definitely one for the Mexican Roads Hall of Fame.
Yep, it really was just cowboys and us.
Finally, our dirt track emerged back onto the highway, where a group of soldiers in balaclavas were peering into the back of pickups and inspecting their innards. Then began one of the longest, climbs so far – a straight climb for some 25 kilometres, that no one had thought about mentioning to us. Clearly, we had a debt to pay off after that massive descent to Belleza the day before. We were exhausted by the time we made it to El Vergel, after camping out on a roadside ledge.
Food. Need food. We soon sought out an eatery for a few platters of burritos. There, the waitress wore what seems to the height of Mexican fashion. Slick back hair, tight jeans, high heeled boots and a lurid top (stripey pink, turquoise and black). With impressive attention to detail, she’d finished these off with matching earings and hair bunch, while stick on glittery nails provided the final distraction when handling our tortillas.
Restaurant decorations. Ode to the Trucker.
Mestizos chilling out. Love the hats. Definitely on my ‘to buy’ list.
Apart from being yet another key point in the narco network – we were told several times not to ride this road at night – logging is also big business in these parts.
The kind of classy hotels that are to be found in El Vergel.
And the constant forrage for food. Here’s a pack of 12 Maniceros, one of our latest discoveries. Working out at 2 pesos a bar (15c) they’ve jumped straight into the Mexican Food Hall of Fame (more on that later).
Expecting another few days in the saddle before a proper chance to resupply, we loaded up on the necessities of life: avocados, tortillas, fruit, veg. And a bag of dried meat might come in handy too… Then it was back on the road for the last climb out of the state of Chihuahua, and onwards (finally!) into Durango.
The Need to Know Section
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