Yeah...Let's Take The "Interpretive Path"

He found his place in the Guatemalan world...at a pan dulce shop.

Once we FINALLY got into Guatemala officially, we headed straight for Tikal. That meant back to back Mayan ruins, but since we wanted to see them both, our route was the most logical. It would give us a chance to compare and contrast the cities, with little time in between to muffle our super judgy-judgement. We were, after all, quickly becoming experts.

We stopped at the entrance to the park and bought our tickets. A would-be guide briefly flashed us a map during the hard sell of a guided tour. We passed, but I liked the looks of the map, so we picked one up before we entered the ruins the next day.

We drove on through the jungle and the rain, the 17Km to the park entrance, and the Jaguar Inn, the place we would be staying for the next two nights. iOverlander had a boatload of good reviews on the place, including for tent campers. Now we have been there, I need to go back and see if any of those reviewers actually tent camped, or if they were all in overland rigs and just parking. For the most part, we really liked the Jaguar Inn, but I will say the space for the tents left a bit to be desired...

Never the less, while there, we had some really great experiences and met some new people. As soon as we rolled up, and American from Nevada came over to admire the bikes. He has a R1200GS, R1200RT, and a KTM1290. He also had a girlfriend with him from Crested Butte who rides a F650 Twin. We chatted with both of them for a while, and I remarked that at the slightly more than one month on the road point, that was the first whole conversation we had had with someone in English since crossing into Mexico.

Two other people we met, who we really liked, were two young people who worked at the Jaguar Inn. Yvon is a super sweet girl whose heart is in travel. She has started a Facebook page called GuaStreet, to make visits to places in her country and give people reviews on them. She is sweet and fun, and I encourage anyone to "like" her page, particularly if you think you might plan a trip here some day. The other person we met was a young man named Edwin. He had lived in Boston for a few years, and though he loves his country, he is looking forward to returning. We got to hear lots of stories from him, and talk about the United States with him. They were both sincerely kind and funny, and I feel very lucky for having met them.

After we got camp set up that afternoon, we headed to the patio for beers and some internet. The girl behind the counter handed us our beers and a piece of paper with the wi-if password on it, but said the Internet wasn't working very well that afternoon.

At dinner, we saw Edwin sit down at a computer and give it a whirl. Josh asked if the Internet was working and he shook his head.

Then he said, "Maybe Internet tomorrow."

I felt like I had heard that somewhere before...

It must be a Guatemala thing.

The sun rising over the Jaguar Temple. Considering how cloudy it was, we felt we didn't miss anything by skipping the "sunrise tour" which would have cost an additional 300Q.

The temple on the opposite side of the Gran Plaza from the Jaguar Temple.

Some of the still intact decoration on the above temple.

The next morning, we were up and at the entrance to the ruins at 6am. Although we saw a few other people that morning, we had the place to ourselves. It was pretty magical. After walking in and admiring the Gran Plaza in the low hanging, often drizzling clouds, we continued on deeper into the park and found ourselves at Temple IV. We didn't have a guide, so we didn't know what we were really looking at.

Coatis! Unlike the last ones we encountered in another city, these ones I am happy to say, we're not buttholes.

Look at that face!

Eventually we walked around the side of the temple, and saw a wooden staircase. These stone buildings have stood for more than 2000 years, and we had to climb a boat-load of steps on a rickety-ass, jungle rain-sodden set of wooden stairs (seriously, about a third of the way up, huffing and puffing, I mumbled, "This better effing be worth it..."). As it turned out, it was worth it. We had climbed probably about 50 meters, about the equivalent of sixteen floors. The view was spectacular, and we had it all to ourselves for forty-five minutes.

I'm only smiling this big because I made it to the top of Temple IV without dying.

We sat, high above the trees on the tallest Mayan temple in the world, and watched as the clouds lifted across the park. Then, they lifted from the jungle, miles away, and as we sat, I'm pretty sure we saw them lift from Belize. We could see for miles--it was breathtaking. A bit closer to us, we could look down on a canopy of trees inhabited by a family of spider monkeys. Eventually, another couple made the climb, and we left so they could have it all to themselves for a bit.

In each of these three pictures, you can see the clouds lift a little more, and a little more. You can also see that I can't take a decently straight picture to save my life.

Looking down on the jungle canopy is pretty spectacular. I can't really describe it, you should just go see it for yourself.

I really liked the Coatis. They were less impressed with me.

Sometimes, trees don't even need dirt to grow--they just cling to the stones of some ancient ruins.

About five hours after we entered the park that morning, we walked out to find lunch and rest our weary legs. We had walked miles. We had not seen even half of the ruins, but we needed a break, some lunch, and a few moments with the map to determine what we wanted to return for later that afternoon. I had constantly been on the lookout for Grupo G, because although it hadn't been labeled on the map, I had seen signs for it. We also hadn't seen Templo VI, so we determined we would head back in for those two sites. Luckily, they were in the same general area, so we would have plenty of time in that two hours to leisurely get to them, explore, and get out of the park.

We got back into the ruins and headed for the area where I had last seen signs for Grupo G. We turned and not long after, also saw signs for Templo VI. Yes! We were going the right way--we were 950 meters from the templo. Another 300 meters or so in, the path split. I knew if we stayed on that direct path, we would get to the templo, and could find Grupo G from there. But, there was a sign, with an arrow, pointing down a much narrower path saying "Interpretive Path".

Josh was all for it. The sign claimed it took about 25 minutes to walk, and though I had no idea where it would end, we probably would be nearer to our destination.

So, I agreed.

We walked on for a while, and came across the first sign.

"Oh, great. The signs are all in Spanish."

Almost every other sign in the park was written in both English and Spanish, and though I could read these fairly well enough, the thought of having to translate every sign on the path at the end of the day made my brain hurt.

We kept on.

A couple more signs further in, and one was written in both English and Spanish. Yay! It talked about the tree and its specific use in the Mayan world. When I looked up for the tree, I realized the sign had been put in front of no fewer than eight different trees, and there was no photo or even line drawing of said tree on the sign. I had no idea which tree they were referring to. Epic failure, Tikal!

(At this point, I need to say that I wonder who does the translating for these signs. My Spanish is not great, but even I know "alimony" is NOT a translation for "alimentos")

Anyway, we kept on.

That was pretty much the pattern. Some signs would be only in Spanish, some would be in English and Spanish, and everyone of them would be placed in front of 4-8 different species of trees. So, I might read a sign about a tree which holds a good reserve of drinking water, and thinking I'm dying of thirst, might actually die from toxic sap because I drank from the wrong tree.

He doesn't look that big, but he was the size of my hand.

Eventually, the trail got narrower. Then, the spider webs got lower. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill, everyday North American spiders. I'm talking about big-as-your-face spiders. Or maybe eat-your-face spiders. Josh casually pointed out they were just as afraid of me as I was of them, and I can well guarantee you that I didn't give a shit.

So, here I was, every time we passed one of these ludicrous signs, saying in a high-pitched sarcastic voice, "Oh, I know, let's take the 'interpretive trail'" and walking around flapping my arms over my head like a lunatic, trying to hit the spider webs with my hands rather than my face. Then, things got interesting.

There was a fork in the trail, with a sign clearly labeling which way to go to follow the trail. But, in my crazed jungle brain, I could just imagine someone running in, unscrewing the sign, and flipping it over to send someone on a wild goose chase. And as it turned out, we walked on for another couple hundred meters, and the trail disappeared.

A tree had split, falling across a long section of the trail. A massive tree. It wasn't that we couldn't get there from here. It was that I knew how many enormous, face-eating spiders there could be. And no, I still didn't care that they were probably more afraid of me than I was of them.

This is the reason people carry machetes here, and I am seriously thinking of buying one. We ducked under and climbed over a about twenty trail feet of down tree, and I was certain a spider was waiting for me at every turn. Or a snake. There could have been a snake, because you know, the most dangerous snake in Central America lives in the jungles. Yaaaaayyyyy....

Inside that doorway lived bats. I went in and said "Hey."

Spoiler alert: We made it out just fine. And eventually, we even made it to Grupo G and Templo VI. Although I had loved the view from Temple IV so much earlier in the day, Grupo G was my favorite set of ruins. They contained 29 living spaces, giving great insight into the everyday Mayan's life. Temples, palaces, and Gran Plazas did not pertain much to most Mayans' lives, but this building did. Also, it had a cool tunnel, and is one of the sleeping quarters that was still pretty well intact with a roof and all its sides, there was now a small cluster of bats sleeping on the ceiling. That made my day.

Just an FYI: I am approximately and inch and a half taller than the average Mayan was. Think about that when you see me walking down some of their stairs...

We managed to barely make it out of the park by 6pm. By that time, it was dark, bats were flying around, starting their evenings of eating all the flying insects I hate so much, and I was ready for a shower and some dinner.

Of course, the excitement wouldn't end there. Nor would the surprises of the eight-legged variety. There were no spiders in the showers (unlike the night before), but as Josh went to step away from the tent, he took half a step, jumped back, and may or may not have yelled like a little girl.

In all fairness, he had every right too. A tarantula in the 5" range skittered out from beneath his foot. I mean, it kind of looked like a kitten, really. It was black-ish brown and all fuzzy. It just had twice the required number of legs, and a thousand times the "ick" factor. I know my father used to catch them when he was an elementary school teacher, and take them in for the kids, but that's just not my thing.

The tarantula and I went out separate ways, and the next morning I motored out of Tikal really happy I hadn't seen another.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Internet Tomorrow or The Story of Guatemala

At the Guatemalan border, a man asked if he could take a picture of the bike. I said of course, then he put his darling little girl on the seat, and I needed a picture as well.

Update to the last post: It is now four days after the wet hair/pillow thing. I'm guessing four more before the pillow dries out...

So, we left Palenque, Chiapas, Mexico, and headed for the border at El Ceibo. We rolled up and parked at the Mexican side, and boom, boom, boom, we were done and in Guatemala.

Oh, wait. Nope. That is NOT how it happened.

We rode up to the border and slowly made our way through the massive complex, not really seeing where to go. It is totally obvious if you're coming into Mexico from Guatemala, but not the other way. Finally, a couple of dudes in uniform, eating snacks and drinking sodas, waved us over to some parking. We grabbed all the paperwork and as we walked up, the "official" passport dude walked out. He asked for the passports, looked at mine, and asked me what day I entered Mexico.

I wasn't expecting that, so I thought back and said I thought it was the fourth, or maybe the fifth...?

And he said, "We have a problem here."

Oh god! I really didn't want to have a problem with Mexico and Mexican officials. I really like the country, and all the people, and I totally get why they probably don't like us very much right now. And...I'm pretty sure I've already witnessed government officials choosing to do nothing to help Americans out when they were stuck, due to their being pissed at us. So, I really didn't want there to be a problem...

He showed me my passport stamp, and I saw the problem. It didn't say 4 or 5 on the date, it was stuck somewhere between 12-13 or 13-14... It was hard to tell what the second numbers were. And then I remembered how we actually entered Mexico on the twelfth the second time. Yeah...that's still a story for another time.

He went inside, told us to wait, and then I'm sure they checked shit out. In the end, it was fine. We finished with him and went on to deal with getting our temporary import deposits back on the bikes, and were done in no time.

We loaded up, and rode on to Guatemala.

We went into the migration office, and in under two minutes, were done, stamped, and officially in Guatemala. Next, we had to go to the Aduana office to deal with the bikes. The guy there told us everything we needed copies of, and we walked the block to the store where we could make copies. While I had the copies done, Josh changed money so we had no more pesos, but a wad of quetzales instead. We also bought sodas, carrying on the tradition of our dear friends Carl and Jonnie, who would buy celebratory sodas each time they got through a border.

As we were walking back to the Aduana, I said, "When all is said and done, this was pretty painless."

We got to the Aduana office, handed the guy the copies, and he neatly divided them up into the appropriate stacks, nodding that all was there.

Then he said, "We have a problem."

Oh god, what?

"No internet." And he totally smiled while saying it.

As the whole conversation we had was in Spanish, I turned to Josh and said, in a rather sarcastic tone of voice, "They have no internet."

We tried to figure out how long this might last, and he just shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said he didn't know. Could be thirty minutes, could be all day....

Uh huh, right. I told him we would wait, and I asked for the papers. As he started to hand them back to me, he asked if the plate numbers were on the copies of the title. I said no, so he walked outside to write them on. Then he handed them to me.

So, we sat, and waited, and finished those stupid sodas we bought too early! In all honesty, we bought them because we were hot and thirsty. And, WE were allowed in the country, just not our bikes.

While we waited, the fumigation guy came over, wrote our plates down, and said they'd be ready for us when we were done with the Aduana. Because, you know, bugs from Mexico only cross into Guatemala by hitching rides on vehicles. They totally stop at the border otherwise....

And we waited. Then I said to Josh this might be a made-up problem. We hadn't heard any stories of corruption at this border crossing--except for one guy who said the Mexican side had been corrupt (I have to add here that the guy who made that claim on iOverlander seems to find everything in traveling life a complete trial, and thinks everyone in other countries is corrupt, while he does stupid shit like try to cross borders ar night. He's just an ass, so I ignore most of what he has to say)--but I wondered if maybe this was a new guy, or someone who thought he'd try something underhanded out.

We went back inside, and he immediately smiled, shook his head, and said it was still down. Josh asked what would make the Internet come back. He shook his head and said he didn't know. Josh asked if it...needed money...to come back, and I had 100Q in my hand and asked him to look again. He looked and said no. Eventually he made a comment about needing an antenna that worked better--or something to that effect. He wasn't looking for a bribe, the Internet was just down. Thankfully, he didn't appear to have been put off by the offer of money from the stupid Americans.

So, we waited, and waited. Eventually, it was getting close to 5pm, and that's when everyone closed up on Sundays. The guy told us we could go into the country on the bikes, stay the night somewhere, and come back in the morning.

There would probably be internet in the morning.

We hopped on the bikes, rode through the border town, and went another 27Km to El Naranjo. We found a hotel, stayed the night, and got back right after 8 the next morning.

There was Internet!!

Within about five minutes we were done, and we had to pull up to the fumigation guys.

Really!?! We had just ridden into your country the night before, and back that morning. I'm pretty sure anything hanging onto the bike headed deeper into Guatemala after the bike came to a stop for the night.

Government procedure is government procedure, and must be adhered to. The fumigation guy put on his mask and headed over to the bikes, spraying the wheels. Let me repeat that. He sprayed the wheels. The only part of the bike in constant motion, delivering anything on them to the atmosphere with massive centrifugal force. Sweet. Good job. They got their money--something like $1.50 each bike--and I'm pretty sure he just sprayed it with water.

Anyway, that was it. Fifteen hours after we arrived at the border, we were in! A whole new country, with new people, new places, and new tarantulas!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Pyramids and Monkeys!

Maya Bell Hotel and campground in Palenque, MX.

I'm just sitting here watching toucans and monkeys because, well, it's Wednesday. And, I'm in the jungle. We've arrived in Palenque, in the state of Chiapas, and are spending the last of our days in Mexico at the Maya Bell campground.

In the way a lot of places around here are, Maya Bell is much more than a campground. It is actually a hotel which has cabanas scattered all around, a restaurant, a bar (with nightly live music--even on a Wednesday night during low season) and areas for RV camping and tent camping. We found it on iOverlander, and at approximately $5/person/night, we may wind up staying longer than the two nights we had planned.

The sites are hike in--like a number we have stayed at in Mexico--so we grabbed stuff from the bikes and headed to the palapa of our choice(You know, there farthest one away...). As we began to pull gear out and get settled, we decided lunch and a beverage were the first requirements. Our first stop coming into town was a giant store similar to a Super Target where we picked up the essentials such as fruits, vegetables, cheese, a bottle of rum, and some limes.

Limeade, rum, and fresh lime make a remarkably refreshing drink, even without ice.

Because we had a short day of riding, we were at camp early, with no other plans for the day. After we had eaten, we began pulling out the tent to set it up on the pad under the palapa, and suddenly remembered--when the odor hit my nose--we had packed it in the rain three mornings before. In the serious heat we've been riding in, the damp tent, footprint, and fly sat breeding mold in its little bag, staying the night in there when we hoteled it in Villahermosa and Acayucan. We strung up lines and hung everything, hoping the slight breeze available would dry everything out quickly. While that stuff dried, there was nothing more we needed to do.

Airing out the tent and listening to the monkeys.

It was so nice to relax, lean back in my chair, and stare out at the jungle with a rum and limeade drink in my hand. The jungle is ridiculously noisy with its multitude of insects, birds who all seem to be yelling at each other, and the screams from the howler monkeys. But even with all the noise assaulting my ears, staring off into the thick, deep jungle with the heat and humidity pressing on me made me feel so relaxed.

Then suddenly, from out of what seemed like nowhere, there was a small explosion of foliage, and an animal zipped across my peripheral vision to stop and sit about ten feet away. Later, I would look and realize his burrow/den is under our campsite.

But, for the moment, he sat staring at me. "Hey lady, you're stomping on my roof!"

And, I stared at him. "What the crap even are you!?!"

The hidey-hole entrance to our house rodent's den.

The agouti. So cute, and remarkably agile.

He appears to be a rodent, somewhere in the 12-15 pound range maybe, resembling either a seriously overgrown hamster, or a miniature capybara. They are not elegant in appearance. In fact, their pear shaped bodies and large noggins look as though they will snap their delicate little legs at any moment. But they walk, trot, and run through the lush vegetation with the delicacy of a prima ballerina--think dancing hippos from Fantasia. Throughout the rest of the day, many of them would hunt for food, and run after each other, squeaking like marmots, while we played games, made dinner, and just chilled out under our palapa.

The steps of the Mayan temples are ENORMOUS!

The main reason for visiting Palenque, of course, are the ruins. They are fascinating--the architecture, the use of materials, the layout, and the civilization which caused them to exist in the first place. Of course, as I read about the burial site of the Red Queen, where three levels down they found a chamber containing more than 200 pieces of Jade, I thoght, "I could totally be in an Indiana Jones movie!"

Sometimes I pretend I'm Indiana Jones, and sometimes I pretend I'm Tarzan!

But, what fascinated me the most, was where had that civilization gone? It just up and vanished. And nothing would be in that area again for a long time. We visited the museum when we were done running amok in the ruins, and there were no hypotheses put forth as to why the civilization just up and disappeared.

Also interesting to me is the fact that a number of structures had steam baths in them. They would heat rocks in the fire and arrange them, then pour water over them to add humidity and heat to the rooms--just like my favorite sauna at the gym in Santa Maria. As I stood there, sweating my eyeballs out, I couldn't figure out WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD THEY WANT MORE HUMIDITY AND HEAT!?! It was in the mid to upper 80s, with 99% humidity, and it wasn't even the HOT season.

Anyway, here I sit, thinking on these things, listening to the music of the jungle, and wondering what the storm will be like tonight. Around 10;00 last night, lightning and thunder started up. It went on for a bit, and then the skies opened up. Sheets of rain poured down, while thunder and lightening continued for the next couple of hours. The thunder absolutely roared, claps of it so loud and sharp, that sometimes I jumped.

Nature + humidity create amazing things, like these mushrooms. I chose not to add them to dinner...

Eventually the thunder and lightning stopped, but the rain continued until morning. I fell asleep and slept brilliantly until the morning calls of the Howler Monkeys woke me. They were loud. And whatever you think a Howler Monkey sounds like, you're probably wrong. Unless you think they sound like multiple dinosaurs waging a battle in the far off distance. They're not terribly big, and I really expected their "howling" to sound more like, well, howling. It doesn't. It's deep, low, and full-throated sounding--completely unexpected, like the rest of Mexico.

If your screen does not show this little spider as bright, fluorescent green, it is not displaying colors properly. He was beautiful. You know, for a spider.

Tweeker, the grandma cat. She and the baby all-black kitten came running over every time they saw me.i think they know I miss my Sofi.

I really do love this country, even though I'm pretty sure my hair will never dry with this humidity...

Update: It took eight hours for my hair to dry, and that is only because I finally went to bed and I'm pretty sure my pillow absorbed the moisture. I'm guessing it will be four days before my pillow is dry...

 

 

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Baja Sur Continues...

Our original plan--when we thought we would be able to make it to Laguna San Ignacio--was to continue down the coast to San Carlos. Though we had to hightail it to the opposite coast instead, we were now at the very skinny part of Baja (where you can see both coasts at the same time from an airplane, but that's a story for another time...) and crossed back to the pacific coast, to the town of San Carlos.

This was the most beautiful day of riding yet! Within 20 minutes of leaving San Lucas, we were kicking ourselves for having stopped so early. We found ourselves riding along the coast of Bahia Concepcion. I have no pics, but LOOK IT UP. We were both riding along, mouths hanging open (no small feat in a helmet), completely in awe of the white sand beaches, crystal clear turquoise water, and lush foliage. Palapas lined the beaches, waiting for campers to show up and pay their $10 for a night of camping in paradise.

I have found a winter retirement location!

For us, the beautiful scenery added to the complete enjoyment of riding motorcycles where ever the hell we wanted in Baja. We eventually turned inland in order to head to the other coast, but were not disappointed here either. This was scenery I had a hard time believing. We rode through breathtaking mountains lush green foliage, broken only by patches of sheer, sharp rock. Out of the green foliage stood giant saguaro cactus. What!?! This was beautiful, lush, desert?

 

The shades of green are innumerable!

How does this even exist?

I don't know, but I loved it. The one disappointing thing about it was that this desert, being as lush as it was, was home to my arch-nemeses--mosquitos. At a quick stop on the side of the highway where I could take some pics, I realized it would be a good time to use the...er...facilities. As quickly as I made that run behind some bushes, I came back with three new mosquito bites--one on my shoulder, as I had removed my jacket for the stop, and two on my butt.

No lie. I scratched my butt for three days.

Seriously, traveling is sooooo glamorous.

After a day of riding through magical, southern Baja beauty, we made it to the sleepy town of San Carlos. Right before we would make the left hand turn to go into town, we turned right into the parking lot of Mar y Arena. It is a hotel with a restaurant, that also does fishing trips, boating trips, has campsites, and during the season, is a huge whale watching site.

We found this place using the iOverlander app, and we have been using it a lot since. If you're traveling and looking for places to camp or hotels with good secure parking, this app is awesome. It also has food recommendations, mechanics, and bad road warnings. It's geared towards people who are traveling by vehicle of some sort, and is user maintained and updated. We love it.

San Carlos was the first place we stayed more than one night. Every once in a while, we need to stay more than one night in a place, so we have a whole day to enjoy sites, do some motorbike maintenance, do laundry, get some writing done, and maybe make phone calls to the parents.

"Do it now"-- the best bit of advice. Ever.

We got camp set up, and not long after--as we were enjoying beach-side beer service--a couple rolled up and parked their camper van in a camping site. Pierre and Elaine are from France, and they shipped their rig to Canada. They are slowly making their way south, and we had a nice couple of chats with them.

The next day, they rolled out and we went walk-about in the town. We found a tiny shack to have tacos in, a market to stock up on essentials such as food stuffs and toilet paper. (You really need to take your own everywhere in Mexico. If you're prepared and expect toilet paper to not be supplied, you'll be fine. If you start thinking places will supply it in bathrooms, you'll be really disappointed.)

Me and Mama Flora.

Eventually, we wandered back in time to soak up some sun, do a little reading, a little writing, a little chain maintenance, and some laundry. In the morning, when we were in the restaurant having coffee, I asked if there was a laundromat in town. There was, but it wasn't functioning. So, there wasn't. However, the hotel staff was kind enough to let us use their washers and clothes line. That just made everyone happier--we had clean clothes, and they didn't have to smell us!

The showers there were wonderful, and after a good night's sleep again, we headed for La Paz. We rode through more stunning landscapes, stopping only to get gas. We got to La Paz relatively early in the day on Monday, as we had planned to head directly to the ferry terminal to take care of paperwork and buy our tickets for Tuesday night's overnight ferry to Mazatlan.

Before leaving San Marcos, we found the Hotel Pension California in La Paz using the iOverlander app, and knew we'd be heading there for our night's stay, after the ferry terminal.

As it turned out, things at the ferry terminal didn't go really smoothly. There is a whole other story to be told here, but as of now, let's just say it's too soon.

We exploded all over the room. Sometimes I wonder how we ride with all this crap.

In the end, we went to Hotel Pension California. It was a good place for us to be, and they had really secure parking for the bikes.

In the lobby.

Me: we have motos...? Him: Yes, we have parking. Right here. Me: (to myself) Let's see if I can fit Camille's fat ass though the doors...

Hotel Gato.

The bikes would stay there for three nights. We would stay in that hotel two nights, with a small adventure in between the two. Nothing bad happened, in case you're worried. But, at the moment, pride will not allow the story to be told.

Thursday morning, we finally left Hotel Pension California. Our first stop was Allende Book Shop, an English-language bookstore. It was a teeny-tiny store packed with (aaaahhh...glorious) books, but all I needed was a small English-Spanish dictionary. There was no one in the shop, as it is the low season for travel. The woman who owns it has been there twenty years, spent time in the Seattle area before moving there, and acted as though our being in her shop was a complete bother to her. So, I paid for my book and left.

Our next stop was a beach-side restaurant for ceviche tostadas and seafood soup--a most excellent brunch. After leaving the restaurant, we rode slightly out of town towards Pichilingue (where the ferry terminal is located) and stopped a a beach to spend a couple of hours. We chilled under a palapa on the beach. I read. Josh swam. It was steamy hot and gorgeous all at the same time.

Eventually, we headed to the ferry terminal, where things went smoothly this time.

Well, almost. A young kid almost got smacked when he was filling out the paperwork for my bike's weight. The top part of the form asks for name, age, and reason for travel. He asked me to write my name, which I did, then looked me closely in the face and wrote down my age.

As 57!

The little puke!

There's nothing wrong with being 57, I am sure. But I won't actually know for 16 MORE EFFING YEARS!

I need to wear some make-up, but in 96 degree weather with over 90% humidity, it will just melt off my face. And to those who told me I would forget all about coloring my hair once we were on the road--YOU WERE WRONG.

Gah!

The next few hours would find us waiting for the ferry and meeting three guys from Mazatlan on big bikes--a F800GS, a R1200GS, and a 650 V-strom. That was the end of a week long motorbike trip they were on, and we talked about traveling and motorbikes. The two guys on GSs admired my Mosko Moto luggage, asked me all about it, and lamented the fact they couldn't get it in Mexico.

Motos were the last to board the ferry. We fit anywhere.

Eventually we boarded the ferry. We played some games, found our assigned seats, then ditched them for a whole other part of the oat that didn't have crying children. We didn't buy cabins, and though it would have been fine if we had truly thought about what that meant, it wasn't great. We slept on hard wood floors. I didn't sleep poorly, but I woke up stiff and sore.

We had coffee on board, but due to the fery's usual arrival of 8am, there was no food offered. However, due to a problem at the dock, it was after 10 before we actually docked. We disembarked into stifling heat and humidity, having had little more than coffee and a piece of pre-packaged sweet bread.

We were now in mainland Mexico, in the state of Sinaloa, and we had some miles to lay down.

The day wouldn't go as we thought it would, but to be honest, it would be so much better than we could have imagined...

 

Posted with Blogsy