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