Stage 6: San Jose del Cabo – Comitan. 15 - 29 December
15 December. Topolobampo, mainland Mexico. 138 miles on land, unknown by sea (about 5 hours)
I woke up early this morning and got quickly on the road. It was overcast and colder than it has been. The trip back to La Paz was relatively uneventful, I took the eastern route to complete a full circle of the tip of the peninsula. The road had been washed away in a couple of places causing “temporary” detours to be built out of hard packed sand. This included a couple of river crossings over bridges that were no more than 4 metal struts, two for each direction, about 2 feet wide. Not difficult to ride over, just a little unnerving first time.
I got back to La Paz early enough to sit on a rather straggly deserted beach near the ferry terminal with some bread and cheese for an hour or so, though it was still not particularly warm. Then there was lots of time spent queuing to get on the ferry, during which time I found Jon again. In front of us in the line were a couple of surfers, a Kiwi and South African but both from London, who had just bought a 4x4 in California and are driving down the Pacific coast to Costa Rica for 3 months. During the trip over we sat around the bar and swapped stories.
Jon and I were loaded on last, at the back, but it did mean we had a quick exit this end. We were supposed to arrive at 9pm but it was closer to 11 before we got off. There is only a small town here, the main one Los Mochis is some 20 Km away, but we didn't want to ride that far in the dark, so decided to check out the port area first. We stumbled across a hotel very quickly, and quite a post one too – with a pool – but still only $35 for a room. Still this is more than Jon's budget so we are sharing tonight. He was prepared to stretch out on the floor but we've actually got two beds in a very large room. And yes I have warned him about my snoring. Its midnight now and I will try to stay awake a little while to at least give him a chance to drop off first.
Waiting to get on the ferry. Some lorries had to reverse in.
16 December. Mazatlan, hotel Zaragoza. 289 miles.
Jon and I split up this morning as agreed yesterday. It was very amicable and we agreed to keep in touch via email. He was still getting ready when I hit the road. It felt good to be going at my own pace again. It stayed cloudy most of the day but was still very warm, an electronic sign I passed in the early afternoon said 27 degrees. Mexico has an extensive system of toll roads which are too expensive for most of the population, and are therefore fast and empty. Too expensive for me too but fortunately the signposting appears to be pretty good. The numbering is straight forward enough as well, so I was on Highway 15 today, and the toll road following a similar route was 15D, though what the D means is beyond me as the toll roads are actually called 'Cuarto' as opposed to 'Libre'. Twice however I managed to hit toll booths that I hadn't expected, and even though I was on the right road. So it seems even the free roads are not entirely free. But it was only a couple of quid.
For the most part the libre route was also not too busy, except in towns which of course the toll roads bypass. I went through Culiacan, the capital of Sinaloa state during the midday heat, and ti was not pleasant. Traffic crawled and buses belched black smoke at me. It makes me wonder what Mexico City will be like – where one day a week you are not allowed to use your vehicle, according to your license plate. I read that this also applies to foreign plates so I will have to watch out as fines are apparently steep.
In small villages, where the through route might be the only paved road, they are very big on speed bumps. There are 'topes' which are the large well rounded type that bounce you if you hit them too fast – and anything over 20mph is too fast. Then there are 'vibradores', the little ones where there are lots of them and they get closer together as they want you to slow down. These I mind less as I can stand up and ride over them in relative comfort. Big lorries slow down for these a lot though, as if they are all carrying glass. It can be very frustrating as they are so slow it is hard for me to keep moving. At one village I overtook a lorry then some miles later he caught me up, then I got back in front again at the next village.
The landscape today was mostly flat farmlands, lots of it arable, but cattle as well. It is much greener than I expected after Baja's scrub and cactus deserts. When the farms gave into hills these were covered in thick forestation.
Mazatlan is on the coast, a fishing and tourist town as well as the destination of the other ferry from La Paz. There are lots of bog resort hotels outside of town, nabbing the best beaches no doubt, which cater to Americans mostly. However I am in the old centre, which is totally Mexican. Again lots of street bustle round a fruit, meat and miscellaneous market. I am drawn to these places to get a feel for how the average Mexican lives, but it is so busy with people rushing about, that it is difficult to make a connection with anyone unless you are trying to buy something from them. In this respect at least maybe Jon's solution, to stay out in the country and little villages, is the better one, but how can Income this far and not go to somewhere like Mexico City?
My hotel is very cheap - £6 – and rather run down though it was clearly once a very nice building, in the 30's maybe. I'm parked in the large lobby and getting used to this now – its the main reason for choosing this place.
I am such a pratt though. My right ankle is still heavily bruised, and though I can walk around without pain anymore I don't have a full range of movement back yet. So what happens? I repeat the exercise with my other foot. Exactly the same scenario – stepping off a kerb without looking down and straight into a pot hole. Its not as bad this time, no nausea and I walked it off longer. But it has swollen up – they are both about the same size now, and will be bruised tomorrow I think. I feel foolish more than anything else as I'm pretty confident I'll be okay to ride tomorrow although of course my left foot gets more action because I change gear with it.
Still it has put a bit of a damper on my evening so after a couple of quick tacos I'm set for a quiet night.
Jon and I part ways.
17 December. Tequila. 299 miles.
Music was blasting out till 1 am this morning but I still managed to get up early, and made a good start start getting out around 8.30. Clear skies first thing and it soon began to get hot. By eleven it was really sweltering. Then I crossed a river and suddenly a welcome wind was blowing, just taking off the edge. Miles of cornfields near the coast this morning but mountains in the afternoon as I moved in land. Lots of lorries in the road and at times progress was painfully slow. However I start to get bolder and join the rest of the motorists who pay no attention to the no overtaking signs.
So here I am in Tequila, the surprisingly small town without which the world would not have Margueritas. Apparently some three quarters of the world supply of tequila is distilled in and around this town. There is an under supply of the stuff at the moment I understand because sales growth in the last few years has been massive thanks to strong marketing, but the agave plant from which it is distilled takes 8 years to grow, and they didn't plan ahead very well.
There is no shortage here however, with more varieties than you can shake a very big stick at. I'm in a restaurant now where they bring you one, with salt and limes on the side, almost before you can sit down. The first one is on the house. I'm sure Simon is particularly jealous right now. Although it is a bit of a tourist trap, this is low season and it actually seems like a nice little town. It feels very Mexican somehow.
Where they go in Tequila to confess those drink induced sins.
18 December. Zamora de Hidalgo. 171 miles.
The day started slowly. At 12 I had a tour of the Jose Cuervo tequila distillery. It was the only one of the day in English, and as it turned out I was the only customer. The agave plants are the size of medicine balls at least. They cook them until they are soft a fibrous, when they are brown and very sweet they are so packed with sugar, I got a taste of some. Then the juice is extracted, fermented and double distilled. Anyway, at the end I got 3 different shots to try and a lesson in how to spot the quality of a tequila. I finished this off with a marguerita, though I only had half of it as I needed to make tracks before too long.
I decided to bypass Guadalajara and head straight towards Mexico City. As I started late I didn't get far and finished here in Zamora, quite a large town but not one I think that sees a lot of tourist traffic. What they do seem to have a lot of though is bike shops. I need some tyre levers so went looking. At the first place he didn't have any but I did learn what they are called in Spanish. A couple of other shops did have some but only great big ones that I couldn't easily carry, so I'll go without for now. Riding around here I've decided I don't like this town. Everywhere else it has been easy to find the centre but here there are no signposts and no names on any of the streets either, so I found it difficult to get around. A quick note about street names. In every place they are the same:- 5 de Mayo, 16 de Septiembre (Independence Day), Absolo, Morelos, Los Ninos Heroes. All very historical and revolutionary. However it doesn't really help with navigation because in each town they are arranged differently and have different importance. Its weird though at first because you get an illusion of familiarity in each place.
I also haven't been able to find an internet cafe here, when normally they jump out at you all over the place. I wanted one today especially as I'm hoping to meet up with Brian Coles, and English biker whose heading south and has just spent a couple of weeks learning Spanish. He first got in touch with me via Horizons Unlimited back in August when he was leaving home for Alaska, and he also met up with Jon about a week or so before I did. It would be good to meet him. I know the town he is in so I might just head there tomorrow anyway and hope we can meet up. If not I will head for Mexico City for a few days.
19 December. Toluca. 260 miles. Passed 9,000 trip miles today.
Zamora didn't improve much in the daylight. I had some trouble starting the bike this morning, and began thinking there was something wrong with the choke, as the engine was catching, but dying when i released the starter button.. Then it was idling a little fast. I was worried for a while – but then I thought some more and realised it was probably the altitude. I'd been climbing most of the time since leaving the coast. Mexico City is over 2,200 metres above sea level – enough for the air to be a bit thinner, meaning the engine is working harder. I noticed yesterday afternoon that it was getting quite cold when riding in the shade, and today it was even more noticeable. Riding in just jeans was cold even at midday today so I was back into the Rukka trousers as well. After Morelia the road shrank down and emptied out, turning into a high mountain pass. Almost no straight lines, heavily cambered corners. I was mostly surrounded by trees but occasionally got a glimpse of the panoramic views. It was a great couple of hours, especially as there were no trucks to get stuck behind. The road was a little broken up and bumpy at times but that just added to the adventure.
Not too much to Toluca though its the capital of Mexico State. For me its a launch pad to Mexico City, so that I'll have plenty of time to get into the centre tomorrow and orient myself. Its really quite cold here tonight. I'll be breaking out the cold weather gear in the morning I think.
20 December. Mexico City. 50 miles.
Getting into the city was easier than I had expected, it was only when I hit the Zona Historico that the traffic got bumper to bumper. By midday I had found a reasonable hotel with indoor parking and was ready to explore. I spent the rest of the day wandering around the local streets. The central square (or Zocalo – all towns have them and its where people tend to congregate) is a vast open space with an enormous flag on a pole in the centre. The main entertainment here seemed to be a number of troups of dancers in quasi traditional indian costume. There were at least for or five with drummers and dancers. They seemed to have a good understanding of each others needs however because instead of competing, which would have made for a racket, each troup waited for the others to finish their set before they started up.
Dancer in genuine indian lycra suit.
On one side of the square is a huge 16th century cathedral, the oldest in the country, on another government buildings in a colonial palace, and to one side some Mayan (or is it Aztec) ruins that were only discovered 30 years ago by accident. I went to the Museum of the City hoping to get a bit of the history of the place, but it was really just a few paintings so didn't help much. Some were very good though, a few very darkly themed and I also got to see what some of the people who have roads named after them looked like. The rest of the time I just walked the streets, which were packed solid. Street traders stalls took up most of the pavements leaving pedestrians to squeeze by each other and use the roads, most of which are one way grid streets like in the US. Cars weaved through somehow with lots of horn blowing and a few near misses.
Though it was reasonably warm during the day it is cold tonight. I really noticed the altitude as well just walking up a couple of flights of stairs to my hotel room. It is after all higher than most alpine ski resorts.
I almost forgot, I had just arrived in the Zocalo when I was accosted by a group of school kids on a project to improve their English. They had a dictaphone and asked me some questions about my experience of Mexico, recording the answers. I also signed a book with my email address so goodness knows what will become of that.
A quiet street in Mexico City.
21 December. Mexico City.
I spent most of the day at the Museum of Anthropology which concentrates on mostly pre-Colombian Mexican civilisations. They had large stone carvings from Mayan and Aztec cultures as well as about a dozen others – and of course tons of pottery. I probably should have got an audio guide but after paying the unexpected entry fee (my guide book said it would be free today, Sunday) I passed. A few of the displays had English write ups though so I got enough of the sense of it. Their religions seem to have been very confusing – gods with different names that half the time seemed to be the same deity in a slightly different guise. The rest of the time I spent in the nearby park area called Chapultepec and round the Zocalo again. I also rode the metro today – extensive, clean and very cheap, about 15p for any one journey. All of the station names also have pictographic icons and I wondered where this was for tourists or because o fan illiteracy problem. My feet were hurting by 4pm, a reminder if I needed it that I am still walking on wounded and bruised pins. So I rested up for a couple of hours. I'm now sitting in a bar (surprisingly the first proper bar I've been in on the mainland) waiting for a meal without really knowing what it is. A meat of some kind but I'm not sure what.
In the last week or so my mood, or perhaps my attitude, has changed. Possibly from being alone in a country where it is hard to communicate. However what I think it is, is a change of viewpoint from an extended holiday to a life routine. I'm taking fewer photos than before and I think this is one symptom of this change.
A quick aside – John Lennon's 'Merry Christmas' has just been playing in the bar. I've heard a number of recognisable Christmas songs in Spanish – like Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Jingle Bells, which just sound weird. However I think this is the first time I really felt that Christmas Feeling. Usually it Slade that does that – but I'd be very surprised if I heard that this year.
Anyway, there are only a certain number of photos you can take of breath taking scenery and it is the fleeting things that I see on the road that really interest me know – in part because they are fleeting, I have a few seconds to take it in, then its gone forever. The places I stay feel more like intervals in the journey than meaningful destinations in themselves. If I could I think I would ride non-stop. I've far from exhausted what this city has to offer but tomorrow morning I will be back on the road.
It was veal by the way. Beaten very thin and battered, served with an abundance of carbohydrates – chips, bread and tortillas, with a green chili sauce on the side. Very tasty. And there's no Slade on the Jukebox – I checked. Time for bed, said Zebedee.
Slow motion bungee outside the museum.
22 December. Chilpancingo. 207 miles.
Had my first puncture this morning, in my front tyre, and the slime did nothing. It was a slow one so I didn't notice at first – I got most of the way out of the city before it was completely flat and the handlebars started jiggling about all over the place. I pulled over and couldn't see anything obvious so reinflated the tyre. It went up but not well, and air was escaping from the valve. I fiddled with it a bit with the only effect being to break my valve core remover, thus compounding the problem. I got as much air in it as I could and went in search of help.
After a couple of car shops I was directed to a 'Vulcanizador' – a tyre specialist. He agreed it appeared to be a valve problem and replaced the core for me – no charge. It seemed okay so I set off again. By this time it was getting to be mid-morning and I was completely lost. So all I could do was go back to the city centre to reorient myself and start from the beginning again. This time I made it about 30 miles before stopping for a bathroom break (that just sounds so American written down like that). I checked the pressure and it was half what it should be. As The Guide says 'Don't Panic'. It wasn't completely flat so I could still re-inflate it and get to somewhere. 20 miles later I was in Cuernavaca, a sizeable city, and the rate of loss was increasing. Again I asked at a car place and this time, with a scribbled map, was directed to a blue gate on a side street behind a supermarket, told to knock and ask for Luis. I was a little sceptical, but it was broad daylight and I had little choice. When I got there it looked like the gate to someone's back yard, no signs advertising a workshop, but I knocked and a voice called me in.
And so I met my new good friend Luis. Behind the gate was a sizeable back yard with about a dozen bikes in various states of repair. Luis spoke excellent English having toured Europe, including a day in London, a couple of years ago with his wife. He was probably a few years older than me. He could not have been more helpful, although to be fair his staff did most of the actual work. The wheel came off, the inner tube out and we found the puncture – about the right size for a nail, also located the whole in the tyre itself, barely visible. After some discussion I decided to put in a new tube and have the old one repaired to carry as a spare. He couldn't repair it there but while the new one was fitted he went off on his bike to sort it out. When he came back he showed me, he'd had some new rubber melted onto it, much better than a patch. I also bought a spare rear tube to carry given the failure of the slime. It all took little more than a couple of hours, during which he took me to his house to show me his other bikes – a little off road Suzuki he was doing up and a Fireblade, plus pictures of his trip to London.
And all he wanted to charge me, for everything, was 180 pesos, about $18, barely more than a tenner. He even threw in a cargo net. I actually gave him 200, we exchanged emails and I told him to look me up if he got to England again. Then to top it all off he led me back to my route out of town, and advised me on the best roads. What a great bloke. I'm gong to post a recommendation for him on the HUBB, and I hope he gets some business from it. He was surprised that I had found him, as most of his business is through local contacts – I noticed a post office bike there as well. He said I was his first English customer.
Luis in Cuernavaca saving the day.
With all of that I couldn't make Acapulco as planned today, although I came close, only about 30 mile out but dusk was approaching. Chilpancingo is the capital of Guerrero state but its got a real small town feel. Its perched on a hillside and the streets surrounding the Zocalo are tiny. However the main plaza itself is large with an impressive colonnaded building holding the local seat of government, plus the usual street market and milling clouds.
What with everything else I haven't eaten all day, so I'm now wolfing down a large pizza with a couple of beers, looking at a Picasso, Van Gogh and a Dali on the wall (prints obviously). Oh and there was (some) good riding as well today. And it so easily could have been a disaster.
23 December. Puerto Escondido
I rode like a demon to get here today. Not as early a start as I would have liked due to a dose of Montezuma's revenge from last night's pizza. I'm sticking to the Mexican food for a while, its clearly safer. The road was pretty good most of the way although lots of little villages meant lots of topes, not all of which I spotted in time. Still those that I did go over at speed weren't too bad when standing up, though my tyres will definitely need some more air tomorrow.
I rode into the back side of Acapulco only before sitting the coast road south. It was a pretty ugly looking place and I'm glad to have missed it. I passed a sign going north to Zihautanejo, whose claim to fame is to be the place that Tim Robbins' and Morgan Freeman's characters went to in The Shawshank Redemption. I didn't know it was real until I saw the sign.
It was hot and sticky all day, even riding with my jacket completely unzipped I had to go fast to keep cool. At least that's my excuse. I hardly stopped most of the day except for petrol and quick water breaks – but I didn't drink enough. As it is only going to get hotter as I move south along the coast, I need to find a way of being able to drink in motion. Or maybe I should start earlier in the day and break through the noon heat, we'll see.
What also happened today is that I met another British biker, Tony who had ridden down from Kansas on a KTM he had bought there. He'd come across Jon a few days before, who told him he might run into me. He said he was making for here as well but I decided not to wait for him because by then it was 2.30 and there was still about 150 miles to go. We agreed to look out for each other, and its a small place so I might see him.
My food has just arrived, Red Snapper in the house style, its a huge dinner, head on and eyes glaring. There's shrimp and crab too on a bed of spaghetti of all things, looks great.
Delicious. So Puerto Escondido. From what I've seen its a small beach resort clearly used to catering to foreigners, there a lot of English around. It feels very laid back and slow, which is not how I imagine Acapulco, and probably better for it. According to the guide book they over developed in anticipation of demand that didn't materialise. But if that means rooms at a good price its fine with me.
This is high season so I was expecting some trouble finding a room but though the first place I called at was full, I found three others that had space. I chose the one with a phone in the room, which was not the most expensive. Its positively palatial compared with some of the places I've stayed, but still only 500 pesos ($50 or £30) a night.
The climate feels like the Mediterranean in the middle of summer. So its 10pm and I'm still warm eating outside in shorts and t-shirt. Fortunately the room has air conditioning. It makes a nice change from Mexico City which was cold at night with no heating. I have a pool at the hotel as well, so it looks like a good place to chill out for Christmas.
Christmas Eve. No miles.
I managed to do almost nothing today. Helped by the fact that my Montezuma's kicked in again so I spent the morning in my room. I ventured out to the beach for a bit in the pm, caught up a bit on the web site stuff and that's about it. 9.30 and I'm just about to have my first meal of the day, bar a couple of slices of dry bread.
Christmas Day. Still no miles.
Phoned home first thing, just as they were sitting down for lunch. It was good to hear all their voices. After that it went down hill. My stomach was bad today so I've been tied to my room except for a brief walk out to the shops for more water. I haven't eaten all day.
Boxing Day. Tapanatepec. 264 miles. Passed 10,000 trip miles today.
I made a slow start as I didn't pack up much last night having completely unloaded the bike when I arrived here. But I got away by about 9.30. Mid morning I stopped for a couple of bananas and a coke, the first food I've had in a little over 24 hours. I took a Lomotil (Mexican Immodium) this morning and this has dine the trick it seems, at least temporarily. I followed roughly the Pacific coast and in the early afternoon entered the Isthmus of Tehauntepec, officially the border between North and Central America. I'd assumed I was in Central since I crossed into Mexico. There are strong winds here where the Atlantic and Pacific are barely more than 160 miles apart. I had to concentrate hard, but fortunately after Salin Cruz where there was a serious jam, traffic was light. I passed a tiny wind farm, about 5 rotors and was surprised there weren't more given that these winds are supposed to be fairly constant.
I'm staying on the main road on the outskirts of Tapanatepec. There is nothing of interest here, it is simply where I got to at the end of the day. My slight concern for tomorrow is cash. After eating tonight I'll have barely fifty pesos. I should have enough fuel to get me to a major city tomorrow where I can find a cash machine, but it was careless of me not to sort it out earlier. If it comes to it I do have dollars I'm sure would be accepted but I'd rather hang on to these for my upcoming border crossing, where they are more valuable.
27 December. Palenque.
An interesting day. I got an early start and was quickly into mountains, spending most of the day climbing. Fantastic views down to high and wide valleys. Then not only did I have my first stop and search at a military checkpoint, but also had my second. Separated by several hours and over a hundred hours. On both occasions they had a fairly lacklustre prod through the luggage then sent me on my way. Every other checkpoint before today I have been waved through. Its pretty close to the Guatemalan border here and I wonder if this had anything to do with it, or even if they were specifically looking for a bike for some reason. Coincidence most likely. It took me a lot longer to get here than I had expected. Partly because it was further than it looked on the map (the price of all those great hairpins) but also the sheer number of topes, much more than usual. Many seemed to be in the middle of nowhere and the rest I'm sure were just there to slow you down enough in the Indian villages to make it easier to stop and buy something. Its no coincidence that traders, mostly with little bags of food to sell, flock near the topes.
Palenque is the site of some major Mayan ruins. I was hoping to get here with time to explore then leave in the morning, but it was past 4pm when I finally pulled in to the main town. So I'll see the sights tomorrow, stay a second night, which will also allow me to get some laundry done as its desperate again.
28 December. Palenque.
Left the bike behind this morning and took a 'collectivo', a small van thats a cross between a bus and a taxi, to the Mayan ruins. A good choice as it turned out, the only parking would have been on the roadside which didn't look too safe to me, at least not with stealable luggage. The guide book was also wrong again about it being free today, I should contact them about that. The ruins were good though, and much more extensive than I had imagined, even what was open to the public. The sit is deep in the jungle (apart from the road that comes here) and must have been totally buried by the trees and undergrowth before it was discovered. Some minor structures are still surrounded and half buried by thick foliage. I was there early to mid morning and even it was hot and very humid. In the one temple burial chamber that was open to visitors there was water dripping from the ceilings and you could see the beginnings of stalactite formation on stones that were laid 1,400 + years ago. The buildings were your classic stepped pyramids – temples and tombs to the various god-king rulers of the city's glory years, palace and a court where The Ball Game was played. The game seems to have no name other than that (and is not usually capitalised, thats just me), despite its apparent religious and social importance. Think gladiators playing basketball. All the fortune and glory a bloke could want, but a short life expectancy. Human sacrifice, player sacrifice, seems to have been part of the deal, though how I have not really found out. Something to do with types of play that offended the gods. Seems like a harsh penalty for an offside to me.
The steps on the pyramids were high, steep and narrow. Couple that with the fact that some stairways spent long enough in the shade to be permanently wet and slimy, and the going up and down was pretty slow (and you somehow felt obligated to walk to the top of every single one). I don't think the Mayans were big people so you have to assume this was their intention. Easier to defend that way I suppose. Though apparently not easy enough as the city reportedly fell apart because it was sacked by a neighbouring ruler, who sacrificed the king to his own gods in his own temple. And purely coincidentally I am sure, this also severed the divine blood line that these people needed to prove in order to justify their rule (and possibly existence – stop me if this sounds familiar). Democracies have to defend themselves from their enemies, but monarchies also have to defend themselves from their subjects. Anyway enough ranting and look at some pictures. If the tour guides were any indication most of the people you see in them are either French or German for some reason (well birth presumably). I didn't manage to gate crash a single tour in English. Damn.
The city hiding in the jungle
Too many damn steps
View of the main palace.
Now one of the things I was supposed to do this afternoon was my laundry. It was my main reason for staying here a second night. So I get back in to town only to find out the the two laundrettes I can locate are closed. Of course it is Sunday so maybe I should have considered that. However apart from the banks, which at least have ATMs, they seem to be the only businesses that are closed. Everybody else is still busy doing their best to extract money from the tourists, why not the laundries? So instead of getting my stuff clean I'm chilling out at the Zocalo where there are some trees to sit beneath while I write and watch the people go about their business – though not their laundry business.
I lost my diary notepad and Mexican map. on 31 December, including notes for Dec 29 and 30. So there are some details missing in the next couple of days. I just shows how quickly the memories can fade.
29 December. Comitan
It started out misty this morning as I backtracked the way I had come to get here for 100 miles or so. There was another road I could have taken, a new one through the jungle, but the tourist office could not tell me how far it was, only that there were no petrol stations along the way. So I decided not to risk it. At times as I rode I was above the clouds. In the early afternoon while stopping for petrol and a bite to eat – a roasted corn on the cob from a corner stand, served on one of its outer leaves, with a wedge of lime and a dry piquant powder, she called it chorizo so presumably its the same as in the sausage. With the lime juice it became more of a paste, and was very delicious. A bloke in his forties who spoke some English struck up a conversation with me. He was interested in my travels, and we did quite well with the bits of Spanish I know thrown in. I am ashamed to admit though that at first I thought he was after something, rather than simply being friendly. I shall try to kerb such thoughts in the future.
I drove through Comitan first, under cloudy skies, on my way to the border town of Ciudad Cuauhtemoc. However when I got there I decided the one hotel was not very safe, and there was not really even a town, just an immigration office and a bus stop. SO I turned and rode the 50 miles back to Comitan. As I approached it started to rain, though only lightly. I passed a couple on a GS 1150 – parked up with a car. If it hadn't of been raining I would have like to stop and say hello, but as I was only wearing my jeans I needed to get to my destination quickly. As I got to the centre the rain stopped long enough for me to find a reasonable, if slightly over priced room and put the bike away – in a car port fortunately. I went out for a little wander round the centre then went into an internet cafe to catch up on emails. While I was in there the the skies really opened up and it started coming down in sheets. I tried waiting it out at first but then decided to make a dash for the hotel. The steep cobbled streets were flowing rivers, a drain in the plaza was overflowing and turned some steps into a waterfall. I was a bit annoyed I didn't have my camera. I got fairly soaked getting back to the hotel, but typically it then stopped, so I went out for a bit to eat. First though I started drinking some Tequila I had been carrying round with me for a couple of days. I had a sudden thought that they might not let me take it over the border so I wanted to drink as much as possible to get some value out of it. Of course that meant that I was pretty steaming when I sat down for dinner, and fell asleep fairly quickly after getting back to my room. What a way to have a last night in Mexico.