We passed through several mountain villages as the rain turned into a dense heavy fog.
We went up in the mountains to the town of Xilitla (the 'X' is pronounced like an 'H'). This area was very reminiscent of the Milford Sound area in New Zealand.
As I rounded a corner, I went into the village of Ahuacatlan and found The Cobblestone Road From Hell. This was about a half kilometer of roughly-hewn flat rock chunks jigsaw-puzzled together. There were several bad potholes from where trucks had torn out 'cobblestones' (and I use that word loosely). The rocks were slick from the fog and rain. Children and dogs were playing in the street. My adrenaline level rose substantially. Somehow we all rode past it without mishap.
Descending into a dry valley, we stopped in Jalpan to get gas. There was a carnival in town and the influx of extra vehicles had drained the only gas station dry. We went for lunch at a small restaurant next to the bus station. When I went to take a whiz, I noticed that the washroom lacked toilet paper, so I'd recommend carrying a few squares in your pocket when touring Mexico. A large group of kids gathered to look at the bikes.
Just as we finished lunch, a tanker truck arrived with the plain leaded NOVA gas. Everyone else fueled up, but I didn't bother due to my BMW's huge tank. We then climbed back up into the mountains and gained altitude rapidly. It was very twisty and foggy. Many hillside farms. Dozens of people were painting political slogans on the cliff faces beside the road. We reached 8,500 feet and I started to feel a bit dizzy from the altitude. The BMW ran just fine on the 89 octane MAGNA SIN though.
We descended toward Mexico's central plateau, where the temperatures were mild and the air was dry. The land was arrid. Red rock cliff faces with little vegetation surrounded the very twisty road. There were many burros beside the road to watch out for. Some stupid dog chased me as I slowed for a hairpin. Going around one blind curve I rode right over a large rock and almost lost it.
I caught up with the faster riders. We then reached a cool dry plateau with fairly straight roads. Reaching the chaotic cobblestone streets of San Juan del Rio, we stuck together with the buddy system so no one would get lost. After parking my boxer in the Hotel Layseca's courtyard, I had an excellent dinner of enchiladas with mole sauce (this is a spicy non-sweet sauce made of cocoa beans, not moles).
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Friday, April 22, 1994 (Day 4):
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We left the hotel in San Juan del Rio. After gassing up, we hit the road. After riding about 20 miles, Darryl's Harley packed it in. The engine started making a loud clunking sound. He stopped it, then let it cool and tried to start it again. The starter turned the engine over but nothing happened. After checking it out carefully, we had to load it on the support van's trailer.
We went though Acambaro and then Jerecuaro. The 'J town' (as we called it) had fairly bad cobblestone streets. As we left Jerecuaro, the ball hitch on the trailer broke a bolt and almost dumped the Harley!
After straightening that mess out, our guide Frank's clutch cable then snapped leaving town. He tied a loop in the end of the clutch cable so that he could at least pull it with his left fist. Of course, this made it very difficult for him to shift smoothly, so we had to skip the scenic mountain road to Patzcauro.
When we got to the large city of Morelia, we rode onto a multi-lane highway. Frank then pulled the group over. We had been using the buddy system to make sure no one got lost in Morelia, and had thus been doing only 45 MPH in a 60 zone. Frank lost his temper a bit and complained that the group was riding too slow to be safe on the busy highway. After giving the slower riders heck, he pulled away too quick on the loose gravel of the highway's shoulder (remember that jury-rigged clutch?). His K75's front wheel went skyward and he dropped the bike on its right side in the gravel. He scratched the mirror, the right saddle bag and cracked the fairing. Ouch. Luckily, he wasn't hurt (except maybe his pride).
When we all got back on the road, we all started to ride really fast. I tried hard to keep up with Frank, but he was moving about 75 MPH now. After weaving though moderately heavy city traffic we got back out on the open country highway.
I was passing a bus when it suddenly pulled left into my passing lane. I'm not very religious but I started praying as I opened the throttle as wide as it would go. I passed the front left corner of the bus by perhaps a foot, with a foot of space between me and the concrete divider on my left side. Whew! I kept it pegged until the bus was a tiny spot in my mirrors. Lots of traffic weaving.
Finally we got into Patzcuaro. Frank had calmed down and looked a bit sheepish for losing his temper. After apologizing, he got everyone's room numbers and asked us to move the motorcycles into the courtyard of our hotel. He then tried phoning a couple of BMW owners in the BMWMOA handbook without success.
We all took a taxi van into Patzcuaro's town plaza and had dinner at the Mansion Iturbe, a small hotel that was built here in 1790. The town plaza was a large square with cypress trees and late 18th century Spanish architecture. We all had a good dinner.
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Saturday, April 23, 1994 (Day 5):
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What a great day! Very good challenging riding. We (excluding Ed and Darryl) rode to the small town of Santa Clara del Cobre. This was a very pretty village - quite clean. We parked our bikes after the short twenty minute ride.
We saw an artisan working copper in the courtyard of his house. He would take bundles of surplus copper wire and melt it in an old bellowed furnace. The copper chunks were then repeatedly heated and hammered into shape. The copper cooled quickly, so this process would have to be repeated 100 times before the finished product was completed. I bought a small copper cream pitcher for about 19 pesos (about $6 US).
We then visited the local museo (museum) that also doubles as a college for copper artisans.
The group then rode back into Patzcuaro and ate lunch at Los Escudos (the swords). I had broiled whitefish from the local Lake Patzcuaro - it was excellent.
After lunch, the couples from Colorado and Ontario asked me if I wanted to ride to Paricutin volcano. This was a fifty mile ride each way. I said yes. What a great (challenging) ride: first, long straight stretches, followed by a climb into some hilly twisties. We reached the town of Uruapan. After five miles of busy urban traffic, we got onto a fantastic new stretch of asphalt winding through pine forests and volcanic rock from the 1943 eruption. It was very twisty. The pavement through the hills was new and in excellent shape. It was sunny (about 75 Fahrenheit) and there was little traffic except the occasional slow-moving farm vehicle. I loved it.
We reached Anganhuan, a small town with cobble streets. There were many people riding on horses. We rode the bikes to the edge of town and then had to ride over a half kilometer of deep volcanic dust (similar to cigarette ash). This sucked mightily. I was yelling and swearing at myself as I struggled to get over it.
We finally made it to a cafeteria on the edge of a valley overlooking the volcano. We could see the volcanic cone about five miles away quite easily. There was a church steeple visible in the valley poking up out of the solidified lava. In 1943, a small town was buried by an eruption without loss of life.
We then rode out. By this point I was tired and it showed - I had to ride pretty slow (50 MPH through the curves) back to Patzcuaro. We got back to the hotel just as it was getting dark.
I had a few beers as I watched the Tarascan dance of Los Viejitos (the old men). These dancers wore brightly colored serapes, 'old man' masks and wooden sandals as they did a traditional folk dance.
Mexican cobblestone: when the rain season makes potholes in the asphalt roads, the local repair crews shovel rocks into the holes to 'patch' them. Make sure your motorcycle has a good suspension and good tires.
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Sunday, April 24, 1994 (Day 6):
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It was time to head back north again after breakfast. Frank had made a clutch cable out of steel fishing line, but it snapped after only ten miles. We rode to Morelia (30 miles) while he and Clem loaded his K75 onto the trailer along with the Harley.
I could see Frank was frustrated with the onslaught of problems. Since he had to lead the group (he was the only who knew the route), I offered to let him ride my R80-GS for the rest of the day to San Miguel de Allende. He was happy for the offer. I hopped into the support van and we headed out.
Morelia is a very large city that took a long time to get through. This region consisted of arrid grasslands with gently rolling hills. We passed through Moroleon, Celaya, and Selamanca. We stopped for a rest break at the Cafe Camembaro. Most of us just grabbed a Coke or a coffee, but Ed was hungry.
'I like pork,' he told the waiter in pidgin Spanish. 'Please give me some pork to eat.'
A few minutes later, the waiter returned with a nice steaming plateful of pickled pigs feet. This made Ed the butt of jokes for a while. 'Hey Ed, it's important to eat healthy food, right?' someone asked him.
'You are what you eat, right?'
'Yep,' replied Ed.
'And you're eating pig,' came the response.
We started up into some hills, not very twisty. We then reached Guanojuato. This was an extremely pretty city. It was founded in the 18th century near some silver mines. The city has many beautiful churches and winding cobble streets. As we left the city, we had a magnificent view of the valley. The colorful cubic buildings were scattered over the hillsides, with a large church sitting on top of a hill in the city.
Frank pulled over then and asked me if I wanted to ride again as the next thirty miles were very twisty. I decided to be a nice guy and say no. I am a fool: the next thirty miles were fantastic. Beautiful twisty mountain roads with lush green vegetation. Grrr. I really missed out. I may go riding again Monday just to go over these roads.
Reaching San Miguel de Allende, we got into the Hotel Aristos. After everyone settled, we walked the short distance to the town square and entered a restaurant. Some of us ordered pizza: it was quite decent. We then wandered around the town square. I bought some postcards that featured the large cathedral in the plaza. It was built by locals who were inspired by postcard pictures of European cathedrals. That Sunday night, it was lit up, and looked like a magical castle.
We wandered back eventually. The square was packed with people leaving Sunday night Mass. Sheer chaos. I then went for a jump in the pool. While checking over my bike, I found that it had a small rust leak in the tank. |
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