Rest stop, MX

I woke at dawn in Tapachula, Chiapas, MX after sleeping somewhat fitfully worried about crossing the border into Guatemala.  Got the bike out of the hotel and drove to the secondary (but closer) crossing of Talisman all the while pondering how different it might be in Guatemala.  When I arrived near the  border bridge a swarm of semi-official plaque holding young men started yelling and directing me down a road that went into the settlement next to the border. I stupidly listened to them and was accosted then by a horde of money changers, one of whom I almost knocked over with my side cases because he was so annoyingly persistent and wouldn’t get out of my way.

2nd Breakdown Today, Fusebox Replaced, Tonala, MX

At the actual Mexican exit/entry point another horde was trying to tell me where to park, I ignored them and parked in the middle of the bridge and went and got my Mexican import vehicle permit canceled and went across the bridge to be swarmed by Guatemalan ‘park-here’, ‘stop-here’, ‘change-money’ boys.  Tired of this I ignored them or made somewhat rude comments in Spanish and got my immigration entry.   Next stop was fumigation of my vehicle (which involved spraying it with some chemicals), a sarcastic thanks was offered – which was taken in good humour.  Then to the customs for an import permit for Guatemala, (with trips to the copy shop at each stage), then to the bank to pay and back to the customs with receipt.  Then finally inspection of everything and allowed through.  Recommendations to anyone doing this, cross at Talisman and ignore everyone except the money changers as you’ll need Quetzals – it took about 1 hour in total at 8am.

En Route San Marcos, Guatemala

I decided to take the mountainous route to my destination Quetzaltenango (Xela) so headed up through the lush volcanic mountains towards the first town San Marcos. I was happily on my way when the traffic stopped and was backed up.  I drove up the wrong lane to see if I could get through and came upon a crowd on either end of a bridge.  By one side of the bridge was a dead man still half straddling his motorcycle with police dropping numbered cones all over the place. Then the mother and sister/wife appeared through the crowd at the other end of the bridge and started wailing and yelling out. They pushing past the police who were trying to stop them and when they caught sight of the body the mother cried  out ‘mi hijo’ (‘my son’), distraught they walked in circles crying and yelling.  The sister/wife jumped on the body and was pulled off by the police.

A grinning man in a red Toyota van then told me to follow him to get to San Marcos. I could barely keep up speeding through little towns and  blind mountain corners.  I was sobered by the sight of the dead man five minutes before and felt like I was in a death race following this van, so I was a little relieved when it stopped and he hopped out with some directions for me to continue on my own.

Indigenous Women, Salina Cruz, Mexico	Salina Cruz Morning, MX	Windy Ventosa, MX	Bike Windmills, Ventosa, MX
Rest stop, MX	Towards the Sierras, MX	2nd Breakdown Fusebox Replaced, Tonala, MX	Tapachula Sunrise, Chiapas, MX
En Route San Marcos, Guatemala	En Route San Marcos, Guatemala

Kai and Bike behind Mechanics House, Santa Elena, OAX, MX

After the mechanic in Santa Elena who was to work on the bike was drunk on the appointed day, I took my bike on the back of a not quite long enough pickup truck back to Puerto Escondido to the official Yamaha mechanic – Mario (just past the Crucero near the ADO bus station).   Mario while being funny, competent and honest changed the spark plug (yes, that is all that was stopping it from running) and did a fairly complete service on the bike – while pointing out that I had brought him a part that didn’t even belong to my model of bike.

So I drove down highway 200 yet again and this time managed to pass Santa Elena without resorting to taking a bus.   The highway wound through the humid jungle with occasional sea views.  As Mario had pointed out, my front brake pad was dissipated such that I was  grinding metal on metal while stopping.   So I stopped at the Kawasaki shop in the purpose-built resort town of Huatulco looking for a new pad.   They looked at the bike and produced various completely different pads shapes and sizes.

Beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX-2

I continued down the highway and was tempted by the view of the sea and drove down a gravel road, through a village, and came to the sea.  It was a windy sand-swept hot plain of a beach with sand encroaching the surrounding hills. The landscape was dry, inhospitable and surreal with a group of fishermen sitting in the boat on the beach with sand blowing past them.

A further 60 kms and I was in the hot bustling windy town of Salina Cruz, a port and refinery.  A visit to Yamaha, Honda, and sundry automotive parts shops lead to one man who interrupted his lunch to get on the back of my bike to direct me to an old man with BMW’s and MotoGuzzi’s in his house/shop. He removed the brake shoes and the first fellow and I set off to a basement dwelling brake man. The brake man took one hour to put new brake pad material on the shoes while I drank some offered mezcal.   $100 pesos paid to him and I returned to the old man who put the shoes back on the brake disc and refused payment for his 1/2 hour of messing about with my bike problems.

Bike on beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX

PS. The Garmin GPS other possible power input connector (USB) broke before I left Puerto Escondido, so there is no map of the route…  So possibly no tracks until Panama.

Kai and Bike behind Mechanics House, Santa Elena, OAX, MX	The pirate bus back to Puerto Escondido, Santa Elena, OAX, MX	Beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX	Beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX
Beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX	Beach before Salina Cruz, OAX, MX

San Agustinilla, OAX, MX

After one night, Kai and I decided to leave Puerto Escondido for the less developed beach town of Mazunte found south on the coast by about 60 kms.   In the morning I  was dripping with sweat as we loaded the bike and put on heavy motorcycle jackets and jeans in the torpid humidity of the Oaxacan coast.

Kai,having more experience as a pillion passenger than Seamus, didn’t feel like he was nervous on the back of the bike as we rode over the speed bumps and navigated the traffic southwards out of town. The traffic thinned on the coastal jungle highway and we were cruising along cutting through the air at 90kms/hour, rounding bends, over small hills, overtaking occasionally, and cooling down pleasantly.

Cactus, Mazunte, MX

As I was accelerating and cresting a small hill I heard the sound of a stone pinging off the part of engine, and hitting another part, and another in rapid succession.  At least I told myself it was a stone, not wanting to recognize the distinct resemblance of that sound with the one I heard in Puerto Vallarta when my engine troubles began.  Slowing down and craning my neck over the bike and peering idiotically at the front wheel several times revealed nothing, again I thought it must have been a stone.

“He thrusts his fists and still insists he sees the ghosts”

Then the short bouts of no engine power started.  The bike would stutter for about 3 seconds for every 30 seconds.  As we rolled into a tiny bus stop town on the highway and I was bellowing to Kai about the problem, I slowed the bike for another speed bump whereupon it stalled completely.   Resignation set in after several futile attempts to start the bike.

Mermejita Kitchen, Mazunte, MX

I set off enquiring with the most competent looking men standing around the tiny settlement about getting the bike transported back Puerto Escondido.  It could be done for 200 pesos.  I also found a mechanic who said he could fix it with the right part quite easily and agreed it seemed that the intake cam shaft was broken – this was the part I had ordered two weeks ago to be sent to the Escondido post office.  Unfortunately the company in the Chicago that sent the part had misspelled the address and had neglected to add my name to the first line – so even if the it arrives at the post office it will be addressed only to ‘Mailing List’ and I’m not sure they’ll let me pick it up.

So I left the bike behind the mechanic’s house and we set off by bus down the coast to Mazunte.  We found ourselves camping on the mostly empty Mermejita beach just north over the hill from the town.  Both nights we found ourselves in small bars listening to hippie Frenchman and new-agey Mexicans.   One night at sunset a sarong-clad hippie appeared on our beach heralding the sunset by swaying to and fro while circling metal rod around a small metal bowl, producing a high-pitched whining sound while two woman sat in yoga-prone position near him.   Alas the pitbull thought this was a good game and disturbed the zen by kicking sand on them.

Mexico City Oaxaca, Puerto Escondido, MX

1968 Mexico City Olympics

Tamil, John y Yoko, Coyoacan, DF

I drove into Mexico City on Tuesday afternoon rush-hour without getting stopped by any police – in fact I was blasting by some of them at twice the speed limit on the peripheral roads in the hopes that they wouldn’t notice I was a foreigner ripe for a little bite bribe/fine and wouldn’t want to bother catching up to me.   The congestion wasn’t too awful but once I got within La Condesa neighbourhood where I was going the GPS was telling me to go somewhere I couldn’t understand. So after 45 minutes of doubling over bridges and through the Chapultepec park several times I eventually asked someone in a car who led me to a recognisable part and I got to Tamil and John’s flat.

Offices on Circuito Interior, Mexico D.F.

I spent one night resting and then the following three going out to several fancy and seedy bars in the city.  The final night was the best where for Tamil’s birthday we went to Coyoacan in the south to see a satirical performance of in the Bed With John and Yoko.  Despite understanding about 60% of what was said it was quite funny and raucous.  One bottle of tequila was followed by another and then quite unnecessarily, a third.  The night ended (for me) at about 4am singing kareoke in Tamil’s neighbours flat.

This was not the intended way to start the long 6 hour trip to Oaxaca.   So leaving at noon I managed to get out of Mexico City with light Sunday traffic and found myself on the outskirts looking up through the dry pine

Popocatépetl, Mexico

forest foothills at the most beautiful snow covered Popocatépetl imaginable.  The recent strong winds and cold temperatures had cleaned  the valley of Mexico’s air so well that it felt like I imagine it must have before the combustion engine laid waste to Mexico City’s climate.  With my 4th GPS power cable malfunctioning I followed the pay highway signs through the valleys near Puebla and up through the mountain passes near Tehuacan where it started to rain.  These mountains ended and the nature result cactus forests began covered the entire valley floor.

As dusk fell the terrain changed with the mountains becoming softly rounded and desert like – similar to the hills inland from San Francisco, California.   Having paid about $25 USD in tolls to get there I arrived in Oaxaca city sometime after 7pm.   The huge industrial Paulina’s Hostal was mostly empty but on the roof I sat and talked to some other tourists including Danes, a German, a Swiss, a French fellow, and two Mexicans – who patiently answered silly questions about tequilla.

Cactus Forest, Tehuacan, Mexico

Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido, MX

After buying my 5th GPS cable I made for the muy peligroso highway that winds endlessly through the mountains towards Puerto Escondido on the coast to pickup Kai at the airport. It was about 250 kms but takes 6 hours or more to drive.  It was endless tight blind curves with the last 1.5 hours completely full of potholes or eroded. The recompense was it wound through desert, to lowland jungle valleys, big valley vistas from cool pine forests and finally down to the sweaty little touristy town of Puerto Escondido.   The timing was perfect and I got to the airport straight from the drive only five minutes late for Kai’s arrival outside the doors.   We swam and body surfed the famed Mexican Pipeline waves on the Zicatela beach in the late afternoon.

San Miguel, GTO to MC D.F., MX GPS GPX

La Parroquia De San Miguel De Allende, Guanajuato, MX

En Route, Guanajuato to Dolores Hidalogo

Getting up at 8am and leaving Guanajuato with a certain amount of regret for not having stayed longer than four nights I drove the long route (unintentionally) to Dolores Hidalgo (‘the birthplace of Mexican independence’) and on to San Miguel de Allende.   The first part of the route was a beautiful calm ride through cold windy mountains covered in small trees and the occasional nopale cacti.

I arrived in Hidalgo about an hour later and had breakfast on the main square which was quite bleak under the overcast skies. After getting lost leaving Hidalgo I made my way back on the the highway 110 towards San Miguel.  The road flattened out and through cold desert-like valleys and then San Miguel de Allende appeared with it’s distinctive La Parroquia church on the principal plaza.

Eva and Zelina's Garden

Eva and Zelina’s house on Sabino is a nice example of a modern Mexican house designed in the traditional style with a blank looking exterior giving way to an outdoor passageway with outdoor rooms on one side and indoor rooms on the other, then opening up to a courtyard garden with fountain followed by another three story house with access to the roof.

Unfortunately it was too cold ((7,000 ft above sea-level and unseasonably cold for Mexico) to make use of the outdoor space and we we went to the market to buy food that Eva later turned into a good chicken soup.   The other good food was the chocolate truffles and tarte citron made by an expatriate Nelson, British Columbia

Posing against a wall

chef.   It seems and I’ve been told by others that San Miguel has lots of good restaurants and access to fancy international food that a lot of Mexico doesn’t (other than the three big cities).   I had a good though not quite authentic pan au chocolat as well this morning from the fancy Petit Fours cafe.

Skyline San Miguel De Allende, GTO, MX

Eva and I decided to wake up early to walk through the park and hike up through the rich neighbourhood overlooking the town.  The park paths gave way stairs and walking paths split by

Feels like a pedal bike

small gardens surrounded by traditional and modern mansions replete with high security gates, and cameras. These are mostly second/third houses of rich Mexicans and foreigners – mainly Americans.   In keeping with the multi-layered racism of Mexico the rich Mexicans look down upon the rich white foreigners and both groups look down on the lowly tourists such as myself.  Of the 80,000 residents of the town proper, 11-12,000 are foreigners.   San Miguel is dismissed largely by the authenticity-seeking Lonely Planet as a Mexican Disneyland due to it’s clean streets, orderly traffic, restored colonial buildings, and evolved restaurant scene.  My thoughts are that it’s a pleasant town although not typical of Mexico.

Guanajuato to San Miguel, GTO, MX GPX GPS File

Cathedral, Guanajuato, MX

After five days in the tiny hippie beach town of San Francisco I convinced Seamus that my wanderlust needed sating and we planned our trip to Guadalajara for a couple of days.  With Seamus riding pillion we drove up the hilly jungle highway 200 towards Compostela hoping to put Seamus on a bus there while I drove the rest of the way myself.

Compostela was a small town not to familiar with foreigners as we attracted a fair number of stares.  They helpfully told us that a bus to Guadalajara could be caught at the highway tollbooth (caseta de cobra). So, after ensuring that a Mexican family waiting for the bus would get Seamus on the right bus I drove on the free highway 15D towards Guadalajara.  It wound through a valley of of black volcanic rock formations before I decided I should get on the faster pay highway 15 to avoid arriving at dusk in rush-hour in Guadalajara ( 4-6 million inhabitants).

Cantina Drunk and Lance

The Hosteling International hostel didn’t have private rooms so I checked into Hotel Frances, a faded and crumbling once-grand hotel built in 1618 located next to the principal plazas and Cathedral de Guadalajara.  I was just about to drive my bike through the lobby and dining room when I saw a sweaty looking Seamus walking along the street.  We walked around for a while and had dinner, after which I went to bed feeling ill from the cold I picked up from Kephra in Puerto Vallarta.  Judging from the line on the tequila bottle, Seamus had continued the night somewhat elsewhere.

After two unsatisfying days in Guadalajara Seamus decided not to continue inland to Guanajuato so after a late groggy breakfast we parted ways and I drove to Guanajuato.  The town is beautiful, mainly car free and has tiny arty cafe’s, bars, multi-hued pastel houses, and cobbled streets – it feels like a European town.

Principal Plaza, Guadalajara, Jalisco, MX

Hummingbird Flowers & Houses (attribution: Lance)

I met Lance an Australian photographer in the Casa Bertha posada and we went to a cantina for a beer.  It was pretty authentic with a load of men drinking heavily and a metal urinal tub against one wall openly exposed to the rest of the bar.   Soon enough a heavy set very drunk Mexican man who introduced himself as Plantano (banana) sat down and menacingly insisted that we were amigos and he wasn’t going to rob us or do bad things – which was enough to make Lance clutch at his knapsack.   We both agreed we liked New York girls very much but Platano wasn’t satisfied with this and suggested we go to meet with some friendly women.  After the second round of enforced drinking I begged off with needing to go to sleep while Lance was to go to his hotel and then out for dinner.

Honey in Guad. market

I met Rick, Mike, and Mario – 3 very sound fellows from California who are riding around Mexico on KLR’s as well and hoping to make it to Guetemala – buena suerte.

KPICASA_GALLERY(GuanajuatoMexico#Gv1sRgCIrSotX56bnOeg)

San Francisco to Guadalajara, to Guanajuato MX

Negrito Choco Milk

An hour before my mum left on new year’s eve, Seamus arrived with a headache and promptly lay under hot towels on the bed.  I had had enough time lounging around in Puerto Vallarta after about five days so I wasn’t to displeased too have New Year’s Eve’s entertainment and then leave for the beach the following day.  We went out for dinner with Kephra and three of her friends near the ‘hotel zone’ and then walked back along the packed Malecon towards the ‘zona romantica’ – e.g. the long term gringo residents gulch and gay old age home.

Best Seafood Found in Puerto Vallarta - Cisneros Restaurant

I had suggested Frida‘s the cantina away from the crowds – alas after ordering drinks we were told they were closing in five minutes.   So after being chatted up by a somewhat haggard but exuberantly drunk fellow from Vancouver we decided to take his suggestion of going to Los Amigos “a non-uppity bar” with no cover charge.  So Seamus and I played pool and drank tequila where I soundly beat him for several games.  Except for the last game where I sunk the white ball after the eight ball in order to avoid playing the next challenger who had been groping me at every opportunity while I played Seamus.

Waking up groggy we packed up from Casa Carmen with some difficulty and made our way to the taco stand for the last best tacos of Puerto Vallarta – Cisneros Restaurant with stand outside at Aguacate between Cardenas and Carranza.

Seamus’ first time on the back of the bike was off to a rough start as we had to go down the steep hill from the flat to the taco stand, upon arrival he proceeded to fall down on his back from the bike trying to get off in front of all the

Seamus and I on Bike About to Roll down hill

bemused Cisneros’ customers.  After he inquired after my state and I answered “I feel a bit stupid” (from the hangover) he worriedly brought back two iced coffees before we were allowed to continue on our trip to San Francisco (Pancho) in Nayarit state.  Traffic was light on New Year’s day and we made it north through the city without incident to the hilly jungle portion of highway 200.  Seamus was initially rebelling against leaning into the curves making driving more dangerous but I could feel him relaxing after about 20 curves or so.  He indeed confirmed he thought I was going to fast into the curves and I realized I’d failed to do my reassuring duty.

Mum Casa Carmen PV

We arrived in San Pancho and managed to find the unmarked house of the rental management people that hadn’t responded to my reservation request – but luckily the place was available.  For $55 it’s not particularly special but will suffice for our next few days here before heading inland to Guadalajara.

		Mum Casa Carmen	Mum Casa Carmen
Seamus San Pancho Casa Ola y Sol	Negrito Chocolate Milk	Bike in San Pancho Casa Ola y Sol	Seamus San Pancho Casa Ola y Sol
View of PV	View of PV	Cupula	Flat Casa Carmen
View Casa Carmen	Pool Casa Carmen	View Casa Carmen	Pool Casa Carmen
View Casa Carmen	Bike Preparation to leave New Years Day	Bike Preparation to leave New Years Da
Bike Preparation to leave New Years Da	Seamus and I Bike	Seamus and I on Bike About to Roll down hill

Puerto Vallarta to San Francisco, Nayarit Mexico GPX

New (left) and old (right) mount

I took the bike to a second mechanic – an authorized Kawasaki one to be sure about the state of the engine after running out of oil upon arrival in Puerto Vallarta.  He revved the engine for a few minutes and then told me it would require adjusting the valve clearance which would stop the ticking noise and also that the cam lobe would need to be adjusted.  I wouldn’t need any new parts and it would take a day and cost about $1,000 pesos (< $100 CDN) and that I can drive it – “But don’t return to Canada” with a sarcastic grin.

The second part of the morning was spent eating two fish tacos at the taco stand in the neighbourhood and taking my snapped GPS mount to a soldering shop just near the taco stand.   He wasn’t able to solder the snapped aluminum plate and bolt back to the bolt atttached to the rubber ball. So he looked around at the scrap metal all over the place and pickup up a flat piece of metal, a metal rod, and a metal ball of the approximate size and proceeded to cut the rod to one inch, drill two screw holes in the flat metal, cut the flat metal and bend it to go around the handlebar on the bike, and soldered the ball and plate to the ends of the cut rod.

For $100 pesos  (< $10 CDN) and in 35 minutes he had manufactured (from scrap) a replacement mount for less than the cost of the mass produced original and did it happily, on the spot, without any extra waiting on my part.  This was my second experience with metalworking shops in Mexico and if anything happens to my bike mechanically I want it to be in Mexico where the workmen are far better than in Canada or the US.

Beached Mum, San Francisco, MX

Near Cathedral, PV, MX	Jacarrandas Flat, PV, MX	Fruit, PV	Beach Mum, San Francisco, MX
San Francisco, MX	New (left) and old (right) mount (left)	Services of PV, MX	Winding Staircase
Stairwell	Mum Above Olas Atlas	Rio Cuale, PV, MX	Cathedral PV
	Sand Sculptures Apparently	Man in a tree

Puerto Vallarta to Punta Mita, San Pancho, MX

It makes a noise like this other person’s KLR: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP5QbE6QDzU

——————————————–

Update: I went back to the bike after waiting for an hour with the drunken street party outside the rental  for the drunk superintendant to find the keys.  Another liter of oil, waited five minutes and then it started.  It stalled again when put in first but then worked the second time. There is what I think is engine knocking and it backfires now and stalled again. However I made it up the hill to the hotel so I´m feeling much better that it´s not totally wrecked and may turn out OK.

——————————————–

Feeling Ill in Puerto Vallarta

I had bought two litres of oil in San Blas and was going to change the oil on the bike as it’s been 6000km so is overdue. I thought I’d do it outside the rental apartment in Puerto Vallarta.

So I drove the 2 hours to P.V. today and got within four blocks of the hotel to check where I was and how to get to the rental apartment. When I left the bike just stalled in an unfamiliar way. So I got off and checked for spraying liquids, cracks, broken cables etc and found nothing. Then tipped the bike to look at the oil guage which looked normal. On closer inspection there was a permanent mark that I had thought was the oil level but was just something on the gauge window.  There was no oil in the bike at all. I’ve added a liter but the bike still wouldn’t turn over the engine at all.

I think I’ve seized it and feel quite sick and stupid about the whole thing.   When I can get into the apartment I’ll be looking for a mechanic but I’m not expecting this to work out very well.

Temporary Office

Trying to Enjoy Post Bike Failure

Jungle North of Puerto Vallarta

Jungle North of Puerto Vallarta

Temporary office

Trying to enjoy post-bike failure

San Blas to Puerto Vallarta, MX

Beach and Water at Sunset

Having left the Sierra‘s and the excitement there I have been finding the careful drivers on paved roads in the coastal plain somewhat tame.   I drove to the coast at Mazatlan yesterday and hardly took any photos.  I did however catch my first glimpse of the Pacific en route and felt a small sense of accomplishment at having arrived intact and happy with my adventures so far.

Ghoulish Drying Squid

Restless I woke up ready to leave Mazatlan for San Blas – a small less developed fishing village 4 hours south.  Starting the day with goat stew and marlin tacos for $4 that were sublime, left me feeling much more content. The free coastal highway 15 was in good repair and other than a tractor trailer crashed in the jungle after hitting an SUV, the ride was pleasant and comparatively short.

Heron? at dawn on the pier

I arrived in San Blas and setup my tent for two days of camping on the beach.  Cheap beer, the freshest seafood I’ve had, and no highrise development is a good start for a little recuperation before the short hop down to Puerto Vallarta.  Mosquitoes and sand fleas be damned.  Photos are of a boatride through the mangrove swamp over the road from the town.

Mazatlan Working Neighbourhood	Mazatlan Working Neighbourhood	Ruta 15 Libre to San Blas	Ruta 15 Libre to San Blas
San Blas Playa Azul at Dawn	San Blas Playa Azul at Dawn	Sitting San Blas Playa Azul at Dawn	San Blas Playa Azul at Dawn
San Blas Playa Azul at Dawn	Bird and breakwater light	Dog following me around on beach
Mangrove Movies	Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip
Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip
Mangrove Trip	Mangrove Trip	Drying squid	Drying squid
Puffer fish	Las Islitas Beach	Las Islitas Beach	Las Islitas Beach
San Blas Playa Azul

Choice, Mazatlan, to San Blas, MX