How Greg and Chucklr98 got to Mexico

[chuckklr04]

Written by Greg



Hi folks.

Chuck and I left the house at about 2:30 wednesday
after a last minute change of a brake part we borrowed
from his spare Captain America bike. I am loaded down
pretty good, with side bags, tank bags, tail bags, and
a vinyl dry bag bungied to the top of the tail bag for
good measure. About 77mph I get a bit of a front end
wobble going; Chuck's load is probably heavier and he
has knobby tires so he wobbles a few MPH sooner. This
leaves us riding within 5mph of the speed limit most
of the time.

About 10 miles into the trip I had to stop already to
fix some niggling little things on the bike. My trip
odometer went wonky from the start and is still not
functioning (all digits move together), my mirror was
flapping in the breeze, a helmet speaker was jamming
into my temple uncomfortably. Except for the odo I
fixed the other things and settled in for the long
ride.

At our first fuel stop Chuck mentioned he hadn't eaten
much, but ate some beef jerky and committed to
stopping to eat at our next fuel stop. I'm getting
much better gas mileage than he is; he hits reserve at
about 200 miles, at which point I'm quite content to
stretch my legs anyway. It took me only 3.75 gallons
to top off when he was on reserve.

Hungry, and thinking about how hungry Chuck must be,
when we got through Houston I stopped even though we
didn't quite need fuel yet. Chuck said since we were
in Texas we needed Mexican food, and though I didn't
quite agree with this logic, we found a local place
and enjoyed it.

Unfortunately Chuck thought that I intended to stop
there for the night. It was 8PM which apparently is
nearing his bedtime. After 90 degree temps all day, I
was looking forward to the night riding, and getting
much closer to San Antonio. I talked him into another
hour, which geography forced into more like an hour
and a half until we found a hotel, in Seguin.

In the hotel we reconsidered the route, and determined
to take HWY 90 rather than the interstate on towards
Big Bend. This got us to the Mexican border ahead of
plan at Del Rio texas. Our bike insurance doesn't kick
in for a couple more days so we left them at a hotel
and crossed over in a cab to explore Ciudad Acuna. It
was pretty quiet during a weekday; no drunk tourists,
although we did our best.

This was Chuck's first time west of Houston and first
time in a foreign country. I sat him down in a basic
local eatery for a bowl of menudo within 15 minutes of
crossing over. He was pretty game; he ate the whole
thing.

We went to a couple of empty tourist places but also a
few local cantinas and a pool hall. Some of the locals
in these places were extremely drunk and there were a
few hassles.

Our first beer was in a little bar that once we sat
down, seemed a bit odd. There was pornography on the
TV. The lady at the door seemed very masculine. The
man at the bar seemed feminine. We determined we were
in the wrong place, and drank fast and left. We found
out later that we had stumbled randomly into the
town's leading gay bar.

Our subsequent choices were very machismo pool halls
and cantinas leaving no room for doubt.

One extremely large gentleman met Chuck in the
bathroom and exhuberantly slapped him on the back
while he was lined up for the purpose that brought him
there. Chuck speaks no spanish, and I speak not quite
enough to understand drunken slurred spanish. Chuck's
friend followed him over and was trying to hit us up
for a beer. We couldn't understand him, but his
jestures seemed to say, "buy me a beer or I will hack
you up with a machete." He dug into his wallet and
produced a business card, showing that he was a
construction worker. His gesture was apparently that
of swinging a hammer, and his intent was, "Buy me a
beer, I work in construction." The bartender saw our
plight and eventually asked him to leave. Some other
guys who I made eye contact with when this guy was
hassling us (wondering whose side they would have
taken in a conflict) came over and bought us a couple
rounds, and we reciprocated.

Anyway, by befriending some locals we got the scoop an
better places to go and we ended up having a pretty
good time all told, and we're even staying here an
additional night, for grins. This is a big area for
hunting and we ended up at a huge bar with fireplaces
and deer heads on the wall that was like a big hunting
lodge. It was a sportsman's paradise for sure.

We'll go to Big Bend tomorrow for the day, and on to
Presidio to meet up with some other riders tomorrow
night.

Weather is unexpectedly quite chilly. A cold front hit
us like a wall just outside of Del Rio. Glad I packed
for all occasions.


http://chuckklr04.smugmug.com/photos/40935104-L.jpg
[/img]
http://chuckklr04.smugmug.com/photos/40935544-L.jpg[img]
_________________
El valvo luncho mucho grande

Last edited by chuckklr98 on Fri Nov 04, 2005 1:11 pm; edited 1 time in total

[chuckklr04]

Leaving Del Rio, we enjoyed the desert scenery. Chuck
was very excited when we crossed the Pecos River, as
it was a bridge over a scenic gorge. We stopped in
Langtry for a photo op at Judge Roy Beans combination
saloon and courtroom. In Marathon Texas we met up with
a guy on a BMW GS1150 and a guy on a Honda touring
bike. Both were Advrider.com folks and I recognized
them from some of their posts there. We rode with them
down to Big Bend National Park. We made one side trip
up a twisty road to a lodge, but mostly flew through
the park.

Twisty School

The ride from Latijas to Presidio was the most
spectacular motorcycle ride of my life. The scenery
was right out of a movie western (indeed we passed a
movie set), and the road had little traffic and wound
like a snake through the high desert. I have had no
experience riding in mountain terrain, and the Honda
touring bike and Chuck took the lead and tried to set
land speed records. I did not want to be left behind
or to slow the others down so I did my best to keep
up, and mostly succeeded. It was white knuckle riding
and with all of my focus on the road all I could was
snatch glances as the scenery during the brief
stretches between curves. Lafitte, the BMW rider, was
behind me. At the end of the ride he said to the
group, "Do not let anyone tell you that Greg cannot
ride twisties." It was great having a patient, laid
back couple of folks to join in with. Kenny, the guy
on the Honda, had good maps and had gone where we were
going before.

At the three Palms hotel in Presidio there were many
riders who were on their way here to Creel. A couple I
knew from the Beast Feast Rally in Mississippi. The
four of us that had made the ride on rt 140 went over
into Ojinaga for dinner and a couple of drinks.

The next morning we four picked up another rider, on a
brand new GS 1200, an older gentleman who has such dry
sarcastic humor that at first I thought he was the
most pompous BMW rider I had ever met. But he has been
fun, although he never stops ribbing Chuck and I about
how much stuff we have loaded down our bikes with. The
five of us determined to ride to Creel together.

It took us some time finding an open money changer in
Mexico after we crossed over. It was a frustrating
wild goose chase but eventually we got it done and
were underway. Mexican roads have been excellent so
far. Yesterday was more high desert scenery and twisty
roads through mountain ranges, and then full open
throttle runs through the valleys to the next set of
hills. Our two KLR 650s had trouble keeping up on
these straight runs.

We had another frustrating time in Chihuahua city,
trying to get our bikes through the tangle and find a
place to eat. When we did stop, I took the GPS off of
my bike and put it in my pocket rather than leave it
on the bike. We took off in a hurry, so I did not take
time to mount the GPS again upon leaving. This was a
mistake, as when I reached for it later at a cigarette
stop (for our one smoker), it was not there. I suspect
it fell out of my pocket in the restaurant or
underway. It was only a $150 model and a few years
old, but I had it loaded with Mexico maps and our
route plotted. As I probably mentioned last time, my
speedometer broke early in the trip, so this has been
serving as my speedometer, too. Oh, well, we dont seem
to be giving much regard to speed limits anyway, and
the gps maps were not accurate so the paper one in my
tank bag will serve fine. Getting lost, and asking
locals for directions, is part of the fun.

An extremely strong wind kicked up yesterday
afternoon, and some in the group were ready to stop
early. Chuck and I were really seeing the limits of
our bikes in the strong headwind, heavily loaded. Even
wide open we could not keep up with the pack. We all
grabbed a hotel in Cuautemoc City, and had a good
steak dinner and some drinks and bull sessions at the
hotel.

That made todays ride into Creel shorter and less
hurried. More twisties, through the Sierra Tarahumara.
Green Juniper trees replaced the high desert. There
were more trucks on the route today than in past days,
and passing them was sometimes problematic.

Arriving at Creel was rewarding. I have been talking
about this trip since before I bought my KLR. With
every expensive toy I bolted to the bike I wondered if
I was building a bike for a trip I would never take.
Chuck is riding with different priorities but he is having the ride of a lifetime.

We are staying at Casa Margarita, a well known
backpacker hotel here in Creel and not at all the dive
I expected it to be. A double room with bath is $30
and includes lunch and dinner. We could have gotten a
double without bath for $16 with meals, but Chuck
found appeal in the private bath and more secure door.

Chuck ran off to hang off with the Advrider guys, I
needed a little time to settle in and putter around
town alone. While I have enjoyed the group very much I
am not used to this much togetherness.

Greg





_________________
El valvo luncho mucho grande

[chuckklr04]

Mazatlan, State of Sinaloa, Mexico
October 17, 2005

Chuck and I parted ways in Creel. He headed northeast
towards Ojinaga via route 16 as we came in, and I
continuing on our itinerary as planned; southeast to
Hidalgo Parral, south to Durango, and west to
Mazatlan.

Chuck was in a hurry to get home, but hurry is not a
Mexican concept. Chuck doesnt speak a word of spanish
and had only a black and white photocopy of my AAA map
of Mexico. I just received word that Chuck lost both
exhaust valves on his KLR650 and is cooling his heels
in a small town somewhere. He has befriended the towns
English teacher and has even given a class
presentation. When will the parts arrive to fix the
bike? ¿Quien Sabe?

I have enjoyed being on my own the last few days.
Travelling with friends from home you carry a bubble
of English with you wherever you go. That bubble is
gone now and I am getting more practice at Spanish. I
have enjoyed rising late and eating a big mexican
breakfast; because I can. I push on when I feel like
riding more, I stop when I feel like stopping early,
and I answer to noone. I am realizing the full liberty
of travelling by motorcycle.

The ride to Creel to Parral was twisty and
interesting. Part of it I had ridden before, but
scenery like that does not grow old. Toward the end of
the ride the pine covered mountain terrain gave way to
drier, less vegetated country. It was cowboy country,
and I still saw groups of men working cows from
horseback. I waved and they waved back heartily.

I spent some time circling around in Parral before I
got reliable directions to the city center. I stayed
in Hotel Fuentes, right next to the Cathedral. It was
a dive, $15 per night, but reasonably clean, and after
about 10 minutes the threadbare appearance of the room
no longer made any impression, just as any standard
hotel chain room might after 10 minutes back home.

I walked around and around checking out the sites. I
indulged in a third world makeover; haircut and
shoeshine, $5.12 total. A cab driver directed me to a
nice Ladies Bar for a copa. Women are not permitted in
old style mexican cantinas, thus Ladies Bars are
foreward thinking respectable establishments open to
men and women alike. I have developed the habit of
looking to see what beer people are drinking in a town
before I order. In some bars everyone is drinking the
same brand. Here it was more eclectic, but everyone
was enjoying their beer with a Michellada, something I
had not noticed before. The bartender would take a
tall glass of ice, add a shake of hot sauce, a couple
of shakes Worchestershire, a shake of bitters (I
think, salzado it was called in spanish), and juice of
half a lime. This would be served with the beer of
your choice. It was refreshing, but I like the way
beer tastes in its unadulterated form.

I made an early night of it.

The next day I rode for Durango. Much of Hwy 45 was
laser straight across the desert and I made great
time. I put the earphones in and listened to Greg
Brown. It became twisty again in the end, and passed
some interesting towns where boys were selling bags of
apples at every speed bump.

Mexico loves speed bumps. They have more kinds of
speed bumps than Eskimos have words for snow.

Durango did not look interesting so I pressed on down
Highway 40 towards Mazatlan to a little town called El
Salto on word from a gas station attendant that there
would be hotels. There were. El Salto was an
unattractive logging town in the midst of some pretty
country. It was probably at a pretty good altitude,
but I lost my GPS early in the trip so I cant report
exactly. The hotel I chose was pricey, asking 35 per
night single, I talked them down to 30. It was a great
place though. Real Bosque, it was called. The room had
no heater and it was very cold and rainy last night.
However, there was a huge fireplace set in the corner
of the room and a stack of pine wood, and the bed was
thick with fuzzy blankets and flannel sheets. I had a
great meal in their restaurant and brought a couple of
Negro Modelos (beers, in case you guessed wrong) back
and watched the fire.

The Spine of the Devil

I woke today to a foggy wet morning, so was in no
hurry to get moving. By the time I was done with a
great breakfast the sky was blue and it was time to
head west to Mazatlan. This was a section of road I
had been anticipating; the infamous Espinozo del
Diablo. It was twisty, alright, and beautiful. Like
many of the roads already, but unrelenting. Lean this
way, lean some more, snap back upright and lean the
other way. It was like downhill skiing might feel if I
were good at downhill skiing and headed into a herd of
mastadons. Huge semi trucks would appear around
corners, unapologetically in MY lane. I would brake
and veer, they would do the same, and somehow we would
pass. The first time this happened so quickly and
instinctively that I felt like I had teleported
through the truck, and the Lives Remaining indicator
on my instrument panel clicked down by one. (AB: I
remember the lessons of Genero, and I have seen the
luminous fibers)

Road workers often wave at me because I wear a
reflective safety vest like they do, and we
acknowledge each other as members of the same lost
tribe. But today there was a bit more urgency in
their waves, and as I rounded the bend I saw that
without a single cone or flag they had dug a series of
holes in the road, as big as graves, in the middle of
the other lane.

Getting stuck behind a slow moving truck is no fun at
all, and nearly this whole section of road is a curvy
no passing zone. But often I could track the curve
ahead with a quick scan of the eye to see enough clear
road to work with and dash past. Trucks would often
alert me of an opening with their left turn signals,as
is the local protocol.

I have no speedometer still so I do not know how fast
I was moving. I was not attempting to set any records,
just keep up a brisk pace; but my skills are improving
so perhaps I am speeding up too. I was not overtaken
by a vehicle all day. I passed three adventure tourers
on a mix of bikes. Two were likely moving as fast or
faster as I but taking breaks, which I did only long
enough to remove layers of clothing or change jackets.

From last nights freezing rain, it was an amazing
contrast to hit the hot and humid air of the pacific
coast. At first I thought I was getting a fever. It is
HOT here.

So I am in Mazatlan now, settled into Hotel San Diego,
$35 with AC, and they let me roll the bike right into
the room so it is locked up safe and sound and I was
able to avoid some unpacking. I am in a good spot for
nightlife, on the edge of the Zona Dorada, but I would
probably prefer a sleepy beach town to this bustling
city.

Business first; drop off laundry, change money, stop
at internet cafe. But errands complete I think I will
go dip my toe in the Pacific to celebrate having
crossed the continent, in a way.

And I think there is a dive operator or two in town,
so perhaps I can line something up. I will be here
for two nights at least. Then I have to decide which
way to turn when I leave here. I have many options.
Much is dependent upon whether work duty calls.

Greg Vaughan
Mazatlan, Mexico
_________________
El valvo luncho mucho grande

[scootertrash]

and he leave's us thirsty for more..... bravo thus far amigo

[chuckklr04]

The rest is here. Greg continues his ride.

http://www.klr650.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4917

[JayD]

Yup, adventure riding fer sure

[Juice]

Nice Job Greg.......

[Flying Low]

great story! i've travelled through the Espinazo del Diablo by bus and train. that is some of the most beautiful country you have ever seen. mexico has the espinazo and we have deals gap. both have areas that the distance between curves is shorter than the legnth of a rig or a bus. (the front of the vehicle is starting the next turn while the back of the vehicle is still coming through the previous turn.) yet, both areas see that kind of traffic. the drivers have to come over into the oncoming lane just to be able to make the curve. i spent the whole time on the bus praying, there are some curves i swore we were hanging off the edge.

[chuckklr04]

great story! i've travelled through the Espinazo del Diablo by bus and train. that is some of the most beautiful country you have ever seen. mexico has the espinazo and we have deals gap. both have areas that the distance between curves is shorter than the legnth of a rig or a bus. (the front of the vehicle is starting the next turn while the back of the vehicle is still coming through the previous turn.) yet, both areas see that kind of traffic. the drivers have to come over into the oncoming lane just to be able to make the curve. i spent the whole time on the bus praying, there are some curves i swore we were hanging off the edge.


yep! Batoplias is like that. You pray around every blind curve.

[JayD]

Great re-read

:)

[Save-the-Manatee]

Awesome read. I owe you a Beer.

[chuckklr04]

Awesome read. I owe you a Beer.



May take you up on that one day.

I love the water and would enjoy the keys.