After a couple of days working my way toward Palenque, it dawned on me that I should probably not have tried to make this run – would have been better to take my time. 200-300 miles a day on Mexican backroads is hard work! Well not all of it, the roads through the mountains are glorious! But there’s no avoiding the villages, towns and cities when you get to the valleys.
Up to this point I’d had very little problem with Mexican drivers. Of course you need to be careful and alert, but that’s a pre-requisite for riding a motorcycle in traffic anywhere. It wasn’t until I got to Toluca de Lerdo, about 40 miles west of Mexico City, that I realized the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan, traffic-wise. Toluca was the biggest city I’d seen in Mexico so far, and being so close to Mexico City I can only assume that the City’s mental driving had spilled over…
Part of my problem on this particular day was that my GPS had stopped displaying anything except the route. This meant I couldn’t see where I was in relation to other roads, so all I could do was follow the route the GPS had calculated for me. Had I been able to see the detail I would have found the ring road – instead I got stuck on a route that took me through the center of town.
Wow, talk about chaos! It was every man for himself all of a sudden. Lane marking meant nothing and I constantly had people moving over on me. Indicators of course were never used, and every gap was filled the instant it opened up.
I was shitting myself for a while, but then I thought back to the last time I’d ridden in traffic like this. In the 80’s I worked in Saudi Arabia, and had an R80/GS there. I’d ridden in places like Jeddah and Cairo, and when I thought about those times it was like I flipped a switch in my brain. Once you stop thinking that traffic rules might help you and realize it’s all about survival now, it gets easier. The rules no longer apply, and you just have to do whatever it takes to keep clear of cars who don’t seem to know or care that you exist.
So I went back to the riding style that worked for me way back then – bold, aggressive, assertive, but not reckless (yes it’s a fine line!). Make space for yourself when you can, and when you can’t, find another space asap! Watch all four corners constantly. That was an interesting afternoon, I hope I don’t have to repeat it too often on this trip. One good reason for avoiding big cities.
BTW, I fixed the GPS (Montana 650T) the next day – there was a map conflict screwing things up.
By now I had just completed my first 300 mile day, between fighting though traffic in the cities, and slowing down for what seemed like hundreds of topes in the villages, it was exhausting. Now I had 600 miles left to go to Palenque, and 3 days to get there.
The next day I continued west, around Puebla, then followed the GPS on what appeared to be a nice route across yet another range of mountains. Unfortunately about 20 miles into the mountain route, the road ran out… it was right there on the GPS, but none of the locals knew anything about it. There was a dirt road that might have gotten me where I was headed, but it looked a bit iffy, so I turned back. By now I’d lost a lot of time and without another good alternative route, decided to take the Cuota.(Tolls seem to vary around the country, it was about 40% cheaper here than the last time I took one.) I made good time across the range, and over another 9000ft pass.
It seemed that just about everyday I was up over nine or ten thousand feet. To put that in perspective, that’s about the same as Bear Tooth Pass in Wyoming. The difference is that where Beartooth is cold and devoid of vegetation, down here it’s lush forest at 10,000 feet, and 70F.
Around 4:30 I got off the Cuota to find a hotel. Over the course of another 300-mile day I’d come from the fresh coolness of the mountains, but now I was in the tropics, warm and damp. I passed through several small villages where the sugar-cane harvest was on. Traditionally the cane is burned to make it easier to harvest, and when the sweet-acrid smell of burning sugar cane hit me I was instantly transported back to Queensland in the early 80’s. Sugar and bananas were two big crops there (they don’t burn the cane there any more though). Now once again I was surrounded by cane and bananas and humidity and cane smoke.
I headed to Tuxtapec to find a hotel, but on the way I passed through village with a strange name – “San Antonio Texas” – which I guess is different to “San Antonio, Texas”.
