| Jeff Poulter & Graham Tillotson: 2nd Aug 2004 |
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Oaxaca, South Mexico
Total journey so far: 12,900 km, about 43% of the overall trip.
Apart from the Quick Update I sent a couple of weeks ago, I haven't sent
a report of our journey since Fairbanks in Alaska in mid June. So this
attempts briefly to bring you up-to-date.
The problems with Honda have already been reported. After waiting twelve
days in Fairbanks for Jeff's cylinder head to be replaced and the upper
part of his engine rebuilt, we finally set off. We had a lot of catching
up to do in order to get back on schedule, so we re-planned the early part
of our trip with some ambitious traveling days, with the aim of being back
on schedule by mid-Mexico, to coincide with the arrival of Flip and her
friend Sue – by the time we were leaving Fairbanks, they had already booked
their Mexico flights.
From Fairbanks, our route took us first through North Pole - yes, it really
exists and is America's tasteless home of Santa Claus. From there we followed
the massive Tanana River for a very long way, offering spectacular views
of Mt McKinley in the distance, this time under clear blue skies. The crossing
into Canada was at the remote but delightfully named Beaver Creek. We'd
got all sorts of documents ready for inspection but none apart from passports
was required. Had we got any offensive substances, such as pepper spray,
we were asked? No? You're in. (Pepper spray is an aerosol used in self-defense
against bear attack, so why it's offensive I don't know.)
Yukon Mountains
The Yukon is all mountains, lakes and pine forests (and more mosquitoes).
The glorious Kluane Lake was typical of much of the Yukon: lakes flat like
millponds surrounded by snow-capped, pine clad mountains, under clear blue
skies, all perfectly reflected in the lake's surface. This is chocolate
box stuff.
It was around the Yukon's state capital, Whitehorse, that my tyre problems
began, only three days after leaving Fairbanks! Three flat rear tyres in
one day. So we took the bike to Honda's Whitehorse dealership. After spending
a couple of hours on the bike and charging us the princely sum of $165,
the Service Manager, Mike Wadsworth, blessed the tyre with these words:
"This tyre will last for 100 years!" he proclaimed. It lasted
100 kms!!
Watson Lake
At Watson Lake we entered British Columbia which had one significant hazard
for motorcyclists – the bridges. Like the Yukon, British Columbia is mountainous,
with a great many rivers, many of them giants, which needed to be crossed
– by bridges comprising a series of steel meshes through which you can
look to see the rushing rivers below. The trouble is a motorbike's tyres
want to follow the grooves in the mesh, not the direction of the road.
So you just have to look straight ahead, attempt to steer - and pray. In
British Columbia we were stopped by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
Right in the middle of nowhere, they'd set up a speed trap and we were
caught doing 88 kph in a 60 kph limit. But it was all smiles, a plea of
"oh we thought those signs were in miles per hour", a promise
to be good in future, and we were let off with a warning.
We left the Alaska Highway at Cache Creek, and took the 99 towards Whistler,
the winter ski resort. And here we hit raging forest fires at Lillouet.
We were riding down part of the Fraser River valley, through narrow, deep
gorges overshadowed by snow-capped mountains but all were masked by a smoky
haze: the air was thick with wood smoke. Dozens of helicopters, with huge
buckets suspended beneath, ran constant errands of scooping up thousands
of gallons of water from the river then flying to the bit of the fire they
were dealing with, dumping the water then returning. The amount of water
they were dumping seemed grotesquely inadequate for the scale of the fire
they were fighting, but I suppose it must be worthwhile. Fires were everywhere
in that part of Canada – there were 40 raging just in the region we rode
through.
Whistler
At Whistler we were welcomed like long lost prodigal sons by Ron and Jennifer.
We were treated to magnificent home cooked meals, our laundry was grabbed
from us, washed and ironed – and we were given a tour of the area. I've
never skied in Whistler but from what I've seen, it would be a great place
to come. We took a gondola up Whistler Mountain and continued walking from
there. Still loads of snow but warm enough to sit down for a picnic. Interestingly,
the lower ski runs are still used in the summer, only for mountain bikes,
not skis. they'd set up some terrific runs which catered for a wide ability
range, from beginners to outright nutcases who would hurtle over ramps
sending them skywards. It was also good for the temporary bicycle repair
shops who set up at the bottom of the runs – business was brisk.
On to Vancouver, a brilliant, vibrant city, surrounded by water, where we did allow ourselves two nights. A day is not enough to see this city but I thought it an outstanding place, on a par with Sydney and, my appetite suitably whetted, I'll be back.
We crossed back into the USA by a little used border crossing Ron had recommended
– on Canada Day. So in addition to the brief formalities, we were offered
a piece of cake and a cup of coffee, courtesy of Canadian Customs – how
sweet! In stark contrast our welcome back into the USA was at best gruff.
Our next port of call was Brinnon, on the Olympic Peninsula, just over
the water from Seattle. Here we were guests of Beau and Bobbi, and about
twenty of their fellow Brinnonites. We arrived as friends of friends, and
departed as great friends. Even though We'd never met them before in our
lives, our reception was one of great local excitement. A special party
had been put on for our benefit, and dear old Beau had even cajoled the
local commissioner, Commissioner Rodgers, whom he'd bumped into in the
street a few days earlier, to attend the party and to make a speech. This
he did with characteristic grace and good humour, and we were both awarded
Stars and Stripes pins as a goodwill gesture from the good citizens of
Brinnon. I learned subsequently that our visit even made the local paper,
the Peninsula News!!
The timing of our visit, apparently, couldn't have been more perfect. The
following morning at about 11:00 was one of the three lowest tides of the
year and, therefore, the best time to go geoduck hunting (pron. goo-ee-duck).
The first thing to learn is that this creature is not a duck. it's a gigantic
clam that lives about a metre beneath the mud and only reveals itself when
the tide is out by an occasional squirt of water, a bit like a mini-fountain.
So we divided into groups. Spotters, markers, diggers and hunters. Whenever
a squirt was spotted, the markers stuck a flag in, then the diggers moved
in with special tongs to dig down 3 or 4 feet through the mud. Then Beau
the Hunter would lie in the mud, sticking his arm deep down into the hole
until he could feel the clam. It was scooped to the surface with screams
of delight. I have to say this creature looks disgusting. Although a huge
clam shell, the size of a brick, it's nose (or proboscis or whatever it's
called) hung out of the shell a full three feet a bit like, well, a well-hung
donkey. But sliced and fried in batter it was delicious. (don't start getting
any ideas girls!)
Oregon Coast
We raced down the Oregon coast (disappointing because of uncontrolled development
along what must have been a very beautiful coastline two centuries ago).
Then inland down to Sacramento where we stayed with more friends and where
it was very hot – about 40 degrees. By contrast, once we crossed over the
Coastal Ranges towards San Francisco, it became bitterly cold. The Golden
Gate was almost totally shrouded in fog the morning we crossed it. And
the same was true of the famous coastal road along the Californian coast,
past the Big Surf – we hardly saw it, and frequent coffee stops were necessary
to keep us warm. The locals call this weather "June gloom", only
this year it lasted well into July.
Mexicali
At Mexicali, we crossed into Mexico in what we foolishly thought at the
time was too simple for words. We drove though a typical Customs area,
manned by dozens of uninterested Mexican officials, many carrying guns,
but nobody stopped us. Then it was out into the Desierto de Altar which
took two days to cross in temperatures of 43 to 44 degrees C. However,
after we had ridden 275 km, right in the middle of nowhere, came the official
border crossing. It was mid afternoon, it was very hot, it was a Sunday,
and nobody here was in a hurry to do anything. Mexico, in fact, has a sophisticated
computer system for checking vehicles in and out of their country, and
cunning ways of taxing you if their system says your vehicle is still in
the country after your Temporary Vehicle Permit runs out. That is, provided
your vehicle is not European. Our VIN (vehicle identification) number didn't
have enough digits for their computer system. They made several phone calls
to various people including their computer people, but being a Sunday,
no one was at the other end. So, come back tomorrow, they said. Despite
our protests, that was it. And the offer of a bribe here would have been
a very foolish move in our estimation.
Just to make the day even more memorable, Jeff had a flat tyre in his rear
wheel just before we reached a town we were returning to where we were
going to look for a hotel. This was the hottest part of the day in unbearable
temperatures. We both wanted to cry. But you just have to roll your sleeves
up and get on with it. It took just under an hour to sort out the problem
but in that time we consumed 4 litres of water – as soon as we drank it,
it poured out of our skin as sweat. And guess what, we are almost certain
Honda had a hand in this bit of trouble, too. We could find absolutely
no evidence of the cause of this flat tyre (always a worry) and yet the
site of the puncture and the shape of the hole in the inner tube, suggested
only one thing – the inner tube had been pinched when it was last put in.
And who did that? The Honda dealer in Los Angeles when we put new front
and rear tyres on both bikes a couple of days earlier!
The following morning, the Mexican border post was expecting us, the computer
problem had been solved and we were let in relatively quickly (90 minutes).
Hermasillo
We continued through the Desierto de Altar until we reached the dull city
of Hermasillo. Two days of just sand and huge cacti, just like you get
in the movies. Unbearably hot, from which you get no relief on a motorbike.
Then we rode over the Sierra Madre Occidental from Hermosillo to Chihuahua
which is undoubtedly the most amazing road we've travelled on during the
entire trip so far. A very rugged mountain range with stunning valleys
and gorges, using a road that must have had a thousand bends in it. Even
the road climbed to over 8,000 feet. This is a little used road, with few
vehicles and just a village or small town every 50 kms or so. it's so slow
going that it took two days to cover this stretch and yet we were stopped
twice by the military at road blocks – all young lads wielding powerful-looking
rifles. We didn't mess with them!
Northern Mexico is either hot and barren (in the coastal regions) or just plain hot (in the central plain, which is about 4,000 to 5,000 feet above sea level). But on these high plains, where it isn't desert or where they've created irrigation systems, there's a lot of agriculture. We got to Mexico "proper" when we arrived in the old town of San Miguel de Allende, built on the side of a hill and famously the centre of the Mexican Independence movement. (Poor old Allende was one of the originators but was caught by the Spanish and beheaded.) All old buildings that ought to have fallen down a long time ago, painted in bright colours, with wonderful wrought iron grills over all the windows. Lots of restaurants and bars, a tranquil main square called El Jardin where people either promenade or just sit. At the weekend, the mariachi bands are there waiting to be hired to play you a tune. 100 Pesos (about GBP5) bought you 8 or 9 musicians, including two raucous trumpets, for about 5 minutes – fabulous! We also spent five days in a language school which though helpful, hasn't exactly made us fluent!! And of course, this is where we met up with Flip and Sue. It was tremendous seeing Flip after two months, and both she and Sue had a wonderful time - they shopped constantly, so fantastic are the arts and crafts here.
Teotihuacan
Then on to Teotihuacan 50 km west of Mexico City to the most amazing and
well preserved ruins I think I've ever seen. The Teotihuacans were a race
that lived in this wide mountain valley 2,000 years ago. Over a period
of 750 years they built a huge city on a grid system that housed 85,000
people at its peak. The talud-tablero architectural style is very box like,
each level slightly smaller than the one below, giving a step-like appearance.
When you see the model of the entire city, as reconstructed by archeologists,
it looks very much like something out of Dan Dare – very space age! This
ancient city also includes two huge pyramids, still in excellent condition,
the bigger of the two (Sol) being the third largest in the world.
Then on to Puebla, the last Spanish stronghold in Mexico during its struggle
for independence. it's a huge city (over a million people) packed with
old colonial buildings, including a great many churches, around its centre.
These are in various states of repair, from the completely renovated to
the almost collapsing. And many of them, including the churches, are painted
in the most wonderful bright colours: blues, pinks, greens, yellows, terracottas.
Very Mexican.
Finally, through another fabulous mountain range (the Sierra Madre del
Sur) on an equally fabulous new road to Oaxaca (pron. Wa-ha-ka). This is
another delightful, bustling place with loads of colourful buildings of
the Spanish colonial era. It is also a fantastic place for arts and crafts
- the shops and the markets here are incredibly colourful.
We have to leave Mexico by 9th August because our temporary motorbike insurance
runs out that day. Then the fun begins: six border crossings in about a
month, all doubtless requiring significant amounts of "inducements"
to border guards to expedite our progress!
I'll let you know what happens!
Stay in touch – it's always great to hear from you all.
G 02.08.04 |
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