Another 700+ KM down through the rest of the great state of Guerrero and deep into Oaxaca. We’ve met hot rivers of water salvation and spent a great deal of time finding ways to get out of the sun. As is usual, people have been wonderful, the sites have been grand and the road has been hot. We made a hiatus for a short spat in San Marcos for Ance to recover from chikungunya and stole into Acapulco for a couple of days of gringo tourism in a mostly Mexican city. We’re hiding out in Salina Cruz for a couple days of rest and reorganization and should be back on the road tomorrow.
04/01/2015 (Coyuca to Acapulco)
Headed out on smaller road where both our maps indicated a small road all the way into Acapulco. However, our maps skip over the part where you have to get into a boat to cross over onto the road that trims the whole barra.
We showed up at the end of the road a little confused, but a local water taxi guy clarified our situation. We could head back the 10 KM we came or he could ferry us across the lagoon to jump on the road yonder.
We piled all our gear and bikes into his spongy wooden boat with an ingenious mini palapa for the sun and set sail. The unexpected boat ride, with a cool breeze and a two stroke engine grumbling our wake, made us feel giddy. Getting places without our legs and peddles is sure a wonder. We laughed at how silly we must look to locals, gringos showing up at the end of the road bewildered.
After our short 10 min sloshing, loaded back up the bikes for a sweaty flat cruise all the way into Acapulco. When I say flat, I mean the barra and then we mounted up on twisting curving roads with houses and structures that sheer human will destined to construct. Massive pillars for stores and rickety poles for houses propped up the outer fringe of buildings before the city of Acapulco.
Got directions from a Taxi driver and random people on where we might be able to shore up a hotel for cheap. As it turns out, we happened to hit Acapulco during Easter week, where every Mexican family and apparently their chickens head to the beach for a well deserved break.
Subsequently, hotel owners kindly jack up the prices in the name of Jesus’ death and resurrection. By pure blind luck we were able to score a place for a two night deal at 400 pesos (26 dollars) a night almost right in the middle of the true historic Mexican centro. We had Ance to thank for the deal. Latvian blood runs strong to the source of akcijas.
Upon parking our bicycles and taking a shower, we headed out blindly into the maze of historic Acapulco. More than 400 years ago, the streets which we meandered through where the home of first Olmecs then Aztecs. Over the course of history, following a visit by the Prince of Wales (King Edward VII) who loved the place, Acapulco turned into something of a world attraction.
The northern section, where we dug up an Easter week abode, was the site of the original development of the area. After devastating earthquakes and a hurricane in the mid-90s, along with violence perpetrated by drug cartels, Acapulco has shifted from an international destination to almost entirely a vacationing spot for Mexicans. It is beautiful, steep and richly adorned with a spirit of history and life.
The streets during Santa Semana teem with people from Mexico City and beyond. You can buy 4 pescado (fish) tacos on the street for 10 pesos (less than a buck) on the malecon and go for a swim on a beautiful beach right smack dab in the middle of old Acapulco.
After taking our fill of the dusk and night, walking through the taco stands and countless people selling their wares, we retreated back to our hotel for a night of deep heavenly Mexican sleep.
Woke drowsie in a real bed. The morning soup of peachy light cast the nearby hillside gloriously – full of a mish-mash of strewn together buildings grappling dearly to the sheer hill threatening to cast every scrap of concrete into the nearby bay.
Made a series of errands. One included replacing a t-shirt that’s finally kicked the cloth bucket as well as various bicycle repairs and parts needed – a constant task after you’ve put any measurable distance on bicycles and a child trailer never really meant to travel this way.
Took to the hotel balcony in the evening and enjoyed cards and random games with Augustine until dark.
04/03/15 (Acapulco to North of Lomas de Chapultepec)
Woke at 6:20 AM. Slow breakfast of instant coffee and warm bolillos Ance found while wandering the streets with Augustine.
Ride to get out of town totally insane. Most traffic lights don’t work, while most drivers do whatever the hell they want on the road and within intersections. Huge steep hill to get out of the bay area with a nerve wracking 12-13% grade drop down toward the airport – the Easter traffic did not make it delightful, we’ll say. Enough sweat to drown a cat.
Dropped down and stopped into an insanely busy commercial center – i.e. mall. We went to grab some bungee cords (one of ours from Juneau, Alaska finally gave out), food supplies and some Air conditioned greatness served up via way too much electricity.
Stopped into a little wayside town hosting an electronica party for two days. Two polite gay Mexican guys told us all about the festivities happening just down the street from where we ended up throwing up our tent for the night. We’d pulled our bikes up to the little shop in search of refreshment and had been offered up a place to sleep for the night – on the roof of their store/house. It was glorious.
04/04-10/15 (San Marcos to Copala)
Well, for the second time of our entire trip we’ve had to lie low for a few days due to sickness. The first was when I came down with strep throat in Canada and now Ance came down with something far more interesting and exotic – chikungunya. Something akin to dengue and not super pleasant. Sore joints and fever and general lethargy. Ance toughed it out for 30 KM wrestling with how she felt and her desire to make some kilometers. Opted to stay in San Marcos for the duration of Ance’s symptoms.
From the 4th till the 9th, life took a steady lazy roll. We’d wake early and head down to a table right by the pool to drink coffee and eat a small breakfast. Soon after, Ance and Augustine would retreat to the pool for play and lounging while I hammered away at updates to our website and some random ideas I’d been kicking around for awhile.
In the late afternoon, we’d take a walk through the bustling and beautiful town of San Marcos for agua frescas and tacos – stopping in at the playground, much to the rejoicing of Augustine. The days were paced and slow, a weathering through Ance’s chikungunya and the height of the days heat. It was, in a few words, relaxing and not quite boring, which I guess is what most of us seek out in a vacation. San Marcos is an un-famous town, with a beautiful park and plaza and wonderful people, not anywhere near a beach, which makes it peaceful and normal – something we crave.
After our 6 day repose of pool swimming, evening tacos and general sloth, we mounted the steel steeds again in the late morning heat. Its hard to keep track of one’s surroundings in this heat and humidity. You keep your wits close and simple. Breathe, sweat and enjoy the breeze when it comes. Lost and swimming in the basic functions of your body.
Stopped in Las Vigas for cold drink break. Headed into Cruz Grande. Met Panama, a clean shaved man from mustache to skull with a broad smile, told us of his travels and his kids. Lived in North Carolina for a spat, back to Mexico at the order of the U.S. Government.
Banged it out to Copala’s plaza. Met Professor Juan Jesus. Teacher of Social Studies, Geography and a little bit of Biology – not sure how biology fits in there, but that is what he said. He eagerly talked with us in our rudimentary Spanish and praised our (Ance’s) wonderful Spanish speaking skills, shaking his head in amazement that’d we’d made it all the way from Canada on bicycles.
Our campsite is far from picturesque. We found our slumber in the parking lot just above the plaza adjacent the police station. Its safe and relatively quiet, only broken by the fireworks being shot every hour in celebration of a brand new marriage. A young hopeful pair, we hope, eager to eat at the icing of life and roll in the sheets together till the end of time.
04/11/15 (Copala to Rio Quetzia)
The hour switch for daylight savings time is still messing with us. 6 AM is actually 5 AM says our bodies – go back to sleep. Little town is bustling by 6 AM and full board by 7 AM. Left by 9 AM – actually 8 AM according to our bodies and the position of the sun.
Slow rollies uphill the entire day. Took a beating from the sun and the heat. It dripped, it poured, it found its way to the very deepest part of my eyes, taking molecules of burning salt to the very deepest reaches of my cornea.
We stopped for a brief cold refreshment just outside the insanely hopping Morquelia. A place that seemed to be moving with such fury you’re afraid to dismount your bicycle for fear of interrupting this chaotic current, being swept up and drowned in a sea of tacos and big broad Mexican smiles.
Trucked into Juchitan plaza for a lunch of salad and tostadas. Pretty little dead place bumping along in the afternoon sun. Left with daydreams of a river nearby – a sweet swim floating in our thoughts. Somehow the directions to the nearest one we messed up, so we ended up spinning our wheels all the way to Ometepec/Cuajinicuilapa junction. When I say “all the way,” I mean 17 KM, which on a bicycle during a hot day can mean something akin to swimming the Baltic Sea to Sweden.
Pulled into great town split in two by the river literally right at the road junction. Made our way to the nearby river for a wash. The river water almost hot to the touch. You could fill your Alaskan bath tub with it during a deep January night and be pleasantly snug. Augustine loved it.
Cantered up from the river and made fried potatoes in the playground/plaza. A flock of 12 to 14 year old kids sat in a half circle chirping like birds and bubbling with curiosity. They helped Ance set up the tent and asked about every little part of our kitchen and house.
Instantly asleep in loud park with kids still screaming and playing with delight on the swings and slides just 20 FT away. The night spilling over with the sounds of passing cars and celebratory drinks in the haze of a Saturday evening need.
04/12/15 (Rio Quantiza to North of Cuajinicuilapa)
Witness the earth as a speck crawling on the bulk of her, slowly, sweating and bewildered. Mark the rocky outcroppings, how the sun burns her presence or does not. See how the hills roll, the mountains loom patiently in the distance. How the ocean lulls and plays and roars as you crawl. Slowly, sweating and bewildered.
Look at this tree. It spreads its green stationery wings larger than the sun. Burros and vacas vacantly stare and stand within its gravitational shadow. See this one. Its arms stretched out towards father sun, hiding the legs that hang to earth. Retracting back to the cool moist soil, pleading, running back to its lustrous womb. Note the parchment paper earth, grassy hairs first dead than wildly lush, plump and rowdy and eager for living in the heavy hot gusts of wind.
Mostly flats today with slow elongated tongues for hills. Left our haven by the playground and river to pound out a beautiful semi-cool morning. The land is apparently drier. Scorched as in Southern California. Brown as far as the eye can see.
Stopped in Cuajinicuilapa for some agua frescas. Augustine is addicted to horchata these days. Some boys and their mother showed up. Mom gave us mangoes out of the blue and Augustine chased the older of the boys until sweat ran down her temples.
Continuing on for 45 mins the sun and heat became almost unbearable. Stopped into a place seemingly in the middle of nowhere, selling watermelons. Hid in the shade sipping water melon juice, savoring it cellular cool sweetness in the shade and breeze. We looked out at the parched landscape, with its barren bushes and forlorn cacti, wondering stupidly how we’d gotten here.
Trucked into pretty little forgotten town. Opted to pitch our tent in the church foregrounds.
04/13/15 (South of Cuajinicuilapa to Santiago Jamiltepec)
From the very first to nearly the very last peddle today consisted of a solid push uphill. It was Ance’s day with the trailer. 6:15 AM wake-up call. Coffee and cereal for breakfast. Our entire habits have changed significantly. Not only because we are in Mexico, with different food, but also because, unlike Canada or Washington, a hot breakfast to start a hot day of riding is pretty much like asking for a spot of tea before getting kicked in the face.
Rode into the happy city of Santiago Pinotepa Nacional for a cool down session. Along the way, 11 KM outside of town we met a Venezuelan cyclist going north! Rom started where we are planning to go – the southern tip of Argentina. We gold mined some information out of him, tossed a few quick cyclist tid-bits here and there and wished each other well and off.
I also like how cyclists, especially of the like of Rom (who has cycled across Asia and Africa), ever so briskly and nonchalantly speak of crossing entire countries and continents by bicycle. “Oh, Africa was great. Just bring a tarp to cover yourself during the hottest part of the day. It can get up to 50 degrees Celsius there.” This being said as the morning was quickly becoming 35 degrees Celsius on the road tarmac.
After having our 1st siesta, we dropped into our 2nd in the Rio Arena, where we splashed and attempted to stay as cool as possible with just filled hot tub water. From the Sand River, rode into San Andres Huaxpaltepec for another cold treat. Augustine tried to play some soccer with the big boys. They were tolerant of her 3 year old stride.
Set off for a 3 KM stomp, 3 KM flat and a 4 KM whopper wall that Santiago Jamiltepec sits on. Beautiful views of the valley we just rode through. Made even more epic by the light of the setting sun.
Rolled into Jamiltepec and made a beeline to the plaza in the twilight. Bigger town than we had expected. Asked friendly looking folks by a towering church if we could sleep in the courtyard. With some deliberation we were welcomed for a night of rest.
We jammed some food in our mouths and went straight to a heavy sleep.
04/14/15 (Santiago Jamiltepec to Rio Grande)
The day seems like three jammed together. Silky nectarine light for a breakfast in the plaza. We woke at 6 AM, packed all our things and migrated a little ways from Jesus’ house to make coffee and have a bite to eat.
A woman sells nescafe out of a giant blue and white thermos. Taxi drivers are parked nearby, sitting on their motors, bullshitting with each other, others shout “Pinotepa!” or “Puerto!” as if they’re leaving pronto. They’re not.
A man, older than some of the massive monuments of trees you can see somber and mighty, slowly shuffled across the plaza, his brilliantly white sombrero creating its own vacuum in his wake. Birds flit and dodge and chirp and fly about like a group of a thousand 13 year old girls at a slumber party, just waking up. They seem insanely bossy and chatty this morning.
After heading off, greeted with essentially 15 KM of straight downhill, cresting on curves that overlook glorious rolling hills. Pulled into San Jose del Progreso after 28 KM of riding that felt like 12 KM, for a cold drink and a mini-siesta.
All of the sudden there are covered motorcycles everywhere, as if we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in India. Continued onto La Pastoria turn off. Little sandy village.
Found a house/store to steal some shade from in the back. Two nice boys, one 13 the other 3, took up chasing and entertaining Augustine for what turned out to be a 4 hour siesta.
Carlos stopped by, he apparently does multiple jobs, one of them being work at the Agua Purificadora. He brought me there to refill our water bottles. It was a sweaty dusty road to an unmarked concrete squat of a building without windows. So hot while walking and filling water bottles sweat was dripping like an unclosed tap.We sat in the shade and wasted the hot afternoon hours away, dribbling out words about how Ance and I met, how Mexicans love their limons and chiles. Carlos told about his Papa from Turkey, his own daughter and his want to move to the States.
We finally set off around 3:30 PM from La Pastoria after, we think, slight putting Carlos at risk of unemployment at the Agua Purificadora. His boss showed up and seemed pretty pissed at him, sitting under a shady palapa drinking beer with some random gringos.
Rolled a fairly flat, fairly quick and sweaty 15 KM into Rio Grande and flocked like seagulls to a newly opened cannery to the river. The water is hot, so you don’t really cool off in the water. The glory comes when you step out into the breeze, the wind takes the heat from your body.
After getting our fill of shade, set off to find Rio Grande’s plaza. We were told by several people that the public park would NOT be a safe place to camp so we set off to the church, up a crazily steep walkway.
Asked if we could camp near the church. Lazardo and Maria ended up inviting us to their home to camp. Took a river bath in the evening with the family. Lots of families and people enjoying the darkness and cool water following the setting sun.
04/15/15 (Rio Grande Repair/Wash Day)
Washed clothes by hand, delivered bikes to bike shop and moved idly the rest of the day, insistently trying to scoot out of the sun. The water of the Grande, in deeper spots still maintains some fresh coolness into the afternoon.
Man laboring with large stones near the river bank, searching for gold.
Augustine got to play with kids all day. We topped that off with a bike ride to a sweet spot on the river to the north – with two kids inside Augustine’s trailer! Beautiful little swimming hole we took advantage of until dusk. Maria and family are far too nice.
04/16/15 (Rio Grande to Puerto Escondido)
Woke at 6 AM and began the steady process of rounding up all of our gear and things that tend to explode into every corner of the universe when we stop at any one place for longer than a day. Had a good cup of coffee with Maria along with some pan dulces (pastries). Maria herself was tearing up by the time we hopped on our bicycles. Her personality and ways remind me so much of Ance’s Omite, its uncanny.
The day of riding was a sling shot all the way into Puerto. Stopped after 2 hours to drink a cold thing and shove edible things in our mouths and then headed off. Rolled into Puerto at 1 PM, 55 KM in and went straight to the hostel that Rom (Venezuelan Cyclist) had told us about.
Got a great place to crash, with a swimming pool and real tables and chairs everywhere. We like us some tables and chairs, yes we do. luxury. I had to crash for a few hours on account that Cormac McCarthy writes books and I’d finished his Suttree in the wee hours of the morning darkness last night.
After washing up, set off to find turtles. A beautiful and comical walk down to a broad sweeping beach out of some epic tale stirring in the light of the setting sun. The mist, carried by the breeze off the waves, takes the sun’s holy light in wispy throngs of ghostly hope. We’d decided to take a different route off the beach than the one we’d came. Turned into a B-Rated cliff hanger and a couple of Mexican guys shaking their head at our strange course navigation. We did not find turtles.
Returned to hostal. Made our own tasty micheladas (its like a beer cocktail) and played cards while Augustine soaked up all the pool time she could muster, soon chaining herself to a French wordless animation film about a war between red and black ants, the main hero being a lady bug.
A pretty American girl and tall skinny Swiss guy, silly and indiscriminate with Mexican spirits, flimsily talk about love nearby. Ance and I smirk at each other, listening to their inebriated romance unfold. The world spins into darkness.
04/17/15 (Puerto Escondido to San Isidro)
The heat collected during the living day by dead concrete, seeps and wafts slowly during the night. With fans blaring steadily it is bearable. Perhaps on cooler nights even pleasant. I woke several times adjusting exactly how I nestled into my own little pool of sweat.
Set off from the hostel at 8 AM. Prepped our things and made our coffee starting at 6 AM, we were the only ones stirring about aside from the hostel staff. Pounded off down the road for a solid 2 hours and stole into a paleteria (ice cream shop) for something cold.
Moved on for another 40 mins or so and found a sweet out of the way spot near a shallow river. Instead of spending 150 pesos (which, really, is only $10) for an afternoon siesta at a pool, we spent nothing and waded in the hot river water and hid in the shade of mango trees trying to catch every breath of wind to carry the heat from our bodies.
Stretched out, yawned and read books whittling away the afternoon scorn until 4 PM. Got back on the road for an easy and cooler ride for 15 KM into San Isidro. Augustine instantly found some kids to chase and within 7 minutes of meeting, was in their house nearby playing with their mountain of toys.
We’ve crashed next to a brightly painted orange house near what we think is considered the small towns center. No one seems to mind. People walk by and smile. Neighbors across the way strike up a wave now and again.
04/18/15 (San Isidro to Santa Cruz Huatulco)
Woke at 5:30 AM. The night was cool, we actually used a blanket to warm up a bit. It sounds insane when you contemplate that in the mid-day sun. Hard uphill rolling battle for 2 hours until stop off for fermented pineapple juice and a few snacks.
Trucked on to another stop like robots only programmed to search for shade and cold refreshments. The waitress at the palapa roadside taco stand was a 16 year old girl with raven black hair and black disks for eyes. She spoke softly in perfect English, came to sit by us for a chat. She had been raised in Florida and was back in Mexico after her grandmother came down with bad health. She misses air conditioning, Wendy’s and Burger King. Wants to go back to the States when she turns 18 and become a lawyer.
Pushed on into the super touristy, but not yet insanely developed Santa Cruz Huatulco area. Directed to free camping site at the public access beach by two young guys working at a tourist information stand. When they saw our bicycles they knew we were cheap by nature.
The water is cool and the bay is small and secluded. A 15 star beach resort for free in my book.
04/19/15 (Santa Cruz Huatulco to Copalita)
We’ve only made around 8 KM today. Opted for a rest day by the river bank. Spent the entire day splashing about in the cool river, reading and getting some local treats and food sold by lady’s walking the shores, selling to all the family’s who’d come for a Sunday fiesta.
After 11 AM, the river bank was full of people and coolers full of food. Augustine stole into the crowd of children playing in a little shaded pool of water nearby. A local crazy, whom the whole town seems to know, told me that this morning he saw Jesus rise from the river into the sky and that Jesus was Mexican. That’s what I got with my limited Spanish anyway.
Camped near a palapa restaurant. While Ance and Augustine wisely slept, I finished another book which brought me deep into the nightly hours. Something I will probably regret, delirious and sweating on the bicycle tomorrow.
04/20/15 (Copalita to Rio Seco)
Woke to another day of sunshine. We haven’t seen rain since Manzanillo/Guadalajara, which was over a month ago. Put together some coffee and a little breakfast, hit up the river for a good wash before a day of sweat.
Hard pounding hilly day through a torched looking harsh autumn landscape. The green has burnt out and all you can see through the waves of heat are poky brown bulks of mountains weathering out the sun’s persistence.
Did not get far in 2 hours. Stopped off for a rest in a roadside village consisting of 4 houses and something that constituted as a shop. While drinking something cold and too sweet, a shirtless happy drunk tittered around us, welcoming us to his country and town. As I was sitting down he gave me a hug around my head and got distracted by my sunglasses, wanted to try them on. I gently pushed him back, he didn’t really seem to notice. A taxi showed up and the driver gave me a look and gesture that said: “sorry, he’s a drunk.”
Our borracho danced on flat feet to the door of the cab and gave us a mucky grin and unguided wave. His Monday morning partner stayed behind and shortly came over to us. He offered me a little agua blanca to try from a tiny plastic Coca Cola bottle. It smelled of tar and unleaded gasoline. I smiled and said I needed to ride my bicycle a bit further today. He shrugged his shoulders, took a sip and let us know if we needed anything, he was right over there. Alright.
Spun the chain rings for a little while longer. Came to Rio Aytulan for a long siesta. Ate a melon bought off a man selling them on the roadside. Hid under the bridge shade, laid down in the shallow water and played with tiny fish.
Humped out the rest of the day to Coyula and then Rio Seco. Pulled into basketball court in Rio Seco to ask if we could camp there. Two men watching the evening pass, nodded an affirmative. First town we’ve camped in where people seem to take no notice of us at all. Its pretty nice to be left in peace. Repaired my tripod chair – again.
Went to sleep in a hot blanket of air that persisted for the whole night. You have to try and sleep with as much of your body off the ground as possible, so as not to drown in your own sweat.
04/21/15 (Rio Seco to Santa Cruz Bamba)
The morning began on the basketball court and ended on one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever laid eyes on. The first part of the day was a breeze with slight down hills and flats and extraordinary scenery. We rode flats but in the nearby distance these massive hunks of earthen glory pulled at the rungs of the sky.
Stopped in a little place, where we got a bag of ice and Augustine stole the TV from an older lady tending the store. Headed out again to take a rest at a taxi/bus stop on the side of the road. Got seduced into the idea that the beach was nearby on a little dirt road down into Playa Santa Cruz Bamba. The nice old Mexican lady that gave us our intelligence was a bit off in her calculations and the ride down to the beach was a rocky sandy slog – but in the end it was well worth the trek.
Rolled into the little town where the biggest store is an almost unmarked house, where you have to order all your goods through a metal fenced window. Sat down in the shade with a table and chair. Ate lunch of tostadas topped with refried beans, cheese, a creamy chipotle salsa we made along with some onions and tomatoes – tasty.
Finally made it all the way down to the beach. Found a great family running a palapa restaurant who let us camp near their establishment. Augustine got some water time in a slow moving hot slough. So much setting sun you could drown in its yellow thick pontoons of light.
The beach we are on is a surfers paradise. Its got nice barreling waves that crest for what seems like an eternity. The place is not developed at all. You feel you’ve dropped into your very own secluded corner of the universe. Quiet and beautiful.
04/22/15 (Santa Cruz Bamba to Salina Cruz)
The day of three devils that turned out to be two. Woke early. Despite the wind howling before crawling in the tent last night, it stopped dead at some point. The heat of the earth slowly marinated us in our own sweat for the duration of the evening.
Set off, down, up and out of the bumpy dirt road to the main highway. We’d been told by Eduardo that there were three big mountains we needed to cross before getting into Salina Cruz. The way he put it in Spanish was something like: “To Salina you have one, no. Two! Ah, no. Three mountains!” We instantly prepared ourselves and gave them a fitting title – the three devils.
The first came instantly after mounting the highway. It was steep, slow and beautiful. Conquered in just under an hour. Sailed down into the town we thought we were going to be in yesterday. Snagged some water and kept trucking.
The second devil was a slow bang-bang sweat to a steep slop-slap breath of a wingbat. Just over an hour to cross. Nearing Salina Cruz, we could see our last devil. We wanted to stop somewhere and rest before attempting another belligerent devil. We stopped under a bridge to recharge and eat some food, staring at what seemed to be an impossibly steep mountain side road. Little toy cars eking up its face.
What we discovered were two ways to get into Salina, one hidden and the other we’d stared at for half an hour preparing ourselves to huff over. To our great satisfaction, there was a tunnel under the third devil. We rolled into town within 10 mins of leaving our lunch spot.
Pulled into plaza and did some quick reconnaissance to find out a cheap place to stay. Found Hotel Madra for $12 dollars a night. Bang. We’re there.
04/23-24/15 (Salina Cruz, Hotel Madra)
It’s become a tradition now, after a couple weeks and around 700 kilometers to stop and regroup. Ance calls family back in Latvia. The bikes need to be cleaned and re-greased, slight shifting and breaking adjustments are tinkered with. Augustine’s trailer has seen better days, after 700 KM the treads need changing and we’ve had extraordinary bad luck on getting spokes fixed and the wheels straightened – so a trip to the bike shop is necessary.
Gear bags for food and the like need to be cleaned out – the heat and humidity give the bags a rather unpleasant musty rotting smell. Apart from the errands, we’re letting our butts and legs rest before we head out of town tomorrow.
The next time I update the website we should be in Guatemala, perhaps beyond. Its around 2000 KM to Panama city. That puts us near the canal around mid-June. Central America, here we come.
Latvian Alaskan Family