Journey to the Bottom of the World

Leaving Boulder

On my last Sunday in Boulder, Colorado, Dave and I went riding for the day. Our ride took us to Rollins Pass, Moffat Tunnel, and several other dirt roads that climbed up the mountains in that area. Many of the roads were not yet open for the season, so the ride had somewhat of an adventurous feel to it. This is the type of riding that my bike was made for and I had even more fun getting wet and plowing through snow then I did riding through Deals Gap in North Carolina.

I feel that the week I spent with Dave and Aisha was the beginning of a lifelong friendship and I really hope to meet up with Dave somewhere in South America. Their friendship and hospitality made it hard to leave Boulder. The night before I left, Dave offered to let me stay another week and work with him if I wanted to. I seriously considered the offer, then realized that I may never leave if I did that. I can definitely see myself living in the Boulder area when this trip is done.

On Monday, I finally said goodbye to Boulder and my friends Dave and Aisha; twice actually. About an hour and a half into the ride during attempt #1, I realized that I left my cell phone and charger at Dave and Aisha’s. Thankfully the drive out of town was scenic with lots of twisties, so the trip back wasn’t that bad. After grabbing the cell phone, and about 5 blocks into my second attempt at leaving Boulder, my trip came terrifyingly close to an abrupt end. As I made my way out of town, cruising at a comfortable 35mph, a white Honda civic gradually overtook me on the left. Once the Honda was about a car length ahead of me, it abruptly swung a hard right across my lane, while simultaneously hitting the brakes, in order to make it into the all-important parking lot entrance on my right. I immediately locked down on my brakes, putting the rear tire into a skid. I was able to keep the back-end under control though, and I swerved as hard as I could to the left. With the rear tire screeching and the front tire on the verge of breaking loose, my right pannier narrowly missed the Honda’s rear bumper as I skidded by. While the scene seemed to play out in slow motion, it all happened in under 2 seconds. As I made my way to the parking lot’s second entrance, using those few seconds to try and comprehend what had just happened, I locked onto the white Honda in the parking lot. As a I approached the driver’s side door, with my body trembling from the massive shot of adrenaline, I was greeted by an 18 year-old-looking girl that seemingly had no idea what I may have been so upset about. How she could have not seen me before, during, or after the event borders on a malicious form of divine intervention. In hindsight, it’s probably better that she didn’t see me. If she had, she probably would have locked her brakes while in the turn and I would have taken flight. Secondly, I’m thankful that it was a girl behind the wheel. Otherwise, I would undoubtedly be in a Boulder jail, charged with assault and battery, and writing this journal entry on a piece of toilet paper.

As I made my way down Rt-93 and Rt-6 for the third time that day, I continued to replay the event in my head, running through all the what if’s and I was still completely baffled by how I did not hit her or wreck the bike. An hour or so later and with a clear mind, I made my way west across Colorado on I-70. Throughout the trip I’ve tried to avoid interstates like the plague, but I-70 is a must-see. The views are spectacular, and just like the rest of Colorado, every turn reveals a view that trumps the last.

Last Stop Before Mexico

Since my last post, I've continued to travel west and then north to Salt Lake City, where I stayed stayed with my girlfriend's family.  After spending two days in Salt Lake, I made my way south to the town of Moab, Utah, where Arches National Park is located.  The ride from Salt Lake to Moab was especially enjoyable.  I had planned on taking a dirt road that cut across the desert to make the ride a little more interesting.  As I pulled off onto the dirt road, I found myself in the middle of a vast expanse of nothingness.  Not expecting the scenery to change much for the rest of the ride, I couldn't have been happier when the road began to drop into canyons that I hadn't know existed in that area.  As I continued to head southeast along the road, the scenery became more and more spectacular and the cliffs and rocky outcroppings seemed to double in size every couple of miles.  I was especially surprised to come across a petroglyph painted on a perfectly smooth sandstone wall.

I eventually emerged onto the I-70 and headed east and down to Moab.  While in Moab, I visited Arches National Park.  The park is incredibly picturesque and a place where I could have easily spent a whole day, but I'm content with what I was able to see during the couple hours that I was there.

Waking up the following morning, I hit the road early and made my way back into Colorado. (I think it's obvious that Colorado is my favorite state)  The mid-southwestern portion of Colorado is exactly what I had always envisioned the Rockies to look like.  Unlike some of the browner portions of the range I've visited, the mountains in this area are covered with lush green forests.  The town of Durango itself has a lively atmosphere and a great small-town feel.  I want to thank Lynn, Hal, and Marie for inviting me to dinner and showing me around town.  I had a great time in Durango and in Colorado in general, and I can see myself spending a lot of time there when I get back from this trip.  I road on to Lake Powell in Arizona, where I spent a full day and two nights with the other half of my girlfriend's family.  It was a relaxing two days, and it was different to see a lake surrounded by desert, rather than with trees and houses like back in New England. 

My ride from Lake Powell to Tempe, Arizona, was the most interesting day of riding throughout the last week.  To start, while fueling up at a gas station near the Lake, a brief conversation with a guy there landed me a job as a courier for the day.  The deadline for submitting hunting permit applications was 7pm that evening, and the guy needed to have several applications delivered to the fish and game headquarters in Flagstaff, AZ.  He was originally going to make the 180 mile drive himself, but after finding out that I would be passing right by the place, he handed me the applications and gave me $25 for my troubles.  But the best part of the day occurred later that afternoon while heading south on I-17.  While riding along an empty stretch of road, I was suddenly hit in the chest and face by some unknown object.  I originally thought that the zip-lock bag that holds my maps in the map pouch, had somehow worked it's way out and rocketed up into my face with the 70mph winds.  I pulled off into the shoulder and found that all of my maps were still on board.  Baffled by what the UFO could have been, I rode up the shoulder back to where it all happened.  I turned around again and creeped down the shoulder scanning the road and the grass to my right for the mysterious object.  I happened to glance back to my right, and was shocked to see a coyote coming at me in full sprint and only 30ft away.  I gunned the throttle to put some distance between us, but this guy was determined.  The coyote continued to sprint down the shoulder of the road, darting into the scrub brush off to the side from time to time.  I figured I'd see how long I could get the coyote to follow me, so I stayed in the shoulder and enjoyed the chase.  As I saw another car crest over the hill behind me, I can only imagine what the driver must have thought when he saw what was happening.  Finally, as the car approached us, the coyote darted out into the left lane of the two-lane highway, and narrowly avoided getting hit by the car.  As I shifted my attention to the road ahead, the coyote had disappeared by the time I looked back.  I continued down the road to Tempe with a huge smile on my face.  To start, I was glad I saw it when I had, because seconds later I would have had a passenger on board.  Second, what are the chances, and how cool is it, to have been chased by a coyote down the shoulder of a highway?  Well, I think it's pretty cool at least!  By the way, after two mourning dove flyby's on the same stretch of road, I concluded that it was probably a mourning dove that gave its life for me to have the coyote encounter.

¡México Mañana!

I've had a great time over the last two weeks in Scottsdale, Arizona!  Soon after arriving at my friend Ryan's apartment, my friend Charles and his friend Andrew came out to visit for a weekend.  (is that enough "friend"s in one sentence?)  We did what most people do in Scottsdale; hibernate indoors during the day, and go out for a couple...dozen beers at night.  A couple of days later, my girlfriend Kali flew into town.  Her stepfather lives here, so I moved to his house while she was in town.  She and I also did what most people do in Scottsdale; except we came out of each days hibernation to enjoy incredible food that her stepfather treated us to.  Kali's visit was a last minute idea, and it was great to see her.  When I left Connecticut in May, I thought that it could be upwards of nine months before I would get to see her again.

After Kali left on Wednesday, I moved back to Ryan's apartment and waited for some motorcycle parts I purchased online to arrive.  I've fitted new tires, changed the oil, rewired a turn signal that melted earlier in the trip, adjusted the valves, and cleaned the air filters.  While all of that work should not have taken more than a day, once you add in Murphy's Law and my own incompetence, it's surprising that I finished it as soon as I did.

Tomorrow morning I will hit the road around 5:30am, in an attempt to get a head start on the overwhelming midday heat.  I'm heading south to Nogales, where I will cross into Mexico (hopefully), and begin the real adventure.  While I've enjoyed the time and company here in Arizona, I'm in desperate need of a change in scenery.  Aside from the overwhelming heat, I can honestly say that Scottsdale may be the last place that I would ever want to live in the States.  As my friend Ryan put it when he was telling me what to expect when I arrived, "It's like one big strip mall, sprawled out over 900 square miles."  I'd like to add that the 900-square-mile-strip-mall is relentlessly congested with holiday traffic; and yes, I do realize it's June. 

The thought of tomorrow's border crossing is both exciting and slightly nerve-wracking.  While my ride through the States has been fun, I've known that without fail, there will be a Wal-Mart, a half-dozen fastfood restaurants, and that I will be able to converse with anyone that I may meet.  In other words, while the scenery has been incredible, all the other aspects of the trip have generally been known.  While I'm thrilled to be leaving the Wal-Mart's and fastfood restaurants behind, it's intimidating to think about the language issues I will encounter, and how I generally have no idea what to expect from this point on.  Though it may be intimidating, it is also the best feeling in the world, and it's the reason I am doing this trip.  It's exteremely difficult to verbalize the excitement I feel, and at the risk of sounding too overdramatic, it's as if everything I've done for this trip over the last two years, all comes down to this. 

I want to thank everyone for following my Journey.  I thouroughly enjoy receiving your comments and emails, and you've made maintaining this site a lot of fun!  Until next time...

First Days in Mexico

Driving from Scottsdale to the border of Mexico was not the most exciting ride I´ve had.  The entire route was through barren desert, and the only noteworthy site was a huge quarry about 20 miles from the border.  After reading more about border crossings, I decided to cross at Douglas, rather than Nogales.  Crossing the border was not nearly as intimidating as I thought it would be.  The Douglas border post is small, with only two roads going in each direction.  If I were heading 20 miles or less into Mexico I could have simply driven right through, but since I´m heading a bit further into Mexico, I had to import both myself and the bike.  Following signs for the temporary importation office, I pulled off under a shaded parking lot, where a man began cleaning my panniers before I had even taken my helmet off.  After saying, ¨No gracias,¨ I made my way into the office, where I was greeted by a surprisingly friendly border official, who directed me to the different desks in the office.  About two seconds into our one-way conversation, I realized that learning Spanish has to be a top priority.  Even without understanding 98% of what he said, I was in and out of the office in less than twenty minutes. 

So here we go!  From what I´ve heard and read, there´s an out-of-control drug war on the Mexican side of the border.  I figured that if I kept my eyes on the mirrors to look for a tail, and lay on the throttle for the first 70 miles or so, I may just survive the first day!  Driving through Agua Prieta, the Mexican border town, I was rather disappointed, but disappointed in a good way.  No cars pulled out of their strategic roadside position and followed me out of town, and I didn´t witness any gun battles; let alone drive through one.  Instead, I was greeted with waves, smiles, and a few curious stares.  Agua Prieta is a small town and I was out of town and back in the desert in less than ten minutes.  Heading South on Hwy 17, there wasn´t much to see.  I passed a couple road construction sites, where I was also greeted with waves, but aside from that; nothing.  The sky was becoming dark to my west, with the occasional bolt of lightning causing me to take a quick glance to the right.  I had no idea how long it would take me to reach a town that had a hotel, so I sped it up a bit.  Hwy 17, which is nothing more than a two-lane road, meandered through some hills and occasionally passed through small towns that didn´t warrant a stop.  The storm crept closer with each passing minute, but seemed to be keeping its distance.  As I arrived in the town of Moctezuma, there was a small, five-room hotel, located on the edge of town, where I decided to call it a day.  The nine-hour day had taken its toll, and there was no reason to push on to the next town that may not have accommodation.  The hotel owners were very friendly and taught me a few words of Spanish.  Dinner was pan-fried chicken and refried beans, and I called it a night not long after the last bite.  I knew I had a long day ahead of me.

I woke early and had the bike packed and on the road by 8am.  I was heading to Creel, a town near Copper Canyon.  Looking at my map, there were two ways I could get there.  The first was a southerly route where I would eventually head due east to Creel.  The second, and the route I went with, started off heading east, then Southeast, and then the road ended; giving me a chance to fill in the gap with some creative navigation.  The road heading east was gorgeous.  It passed through everything from desert, mountains, and fertile river valleys.  I think one of the great things about motorcycle travel is how the smells and temperature changes add so much to the experience.  As I entered the first river valley, I was instantly bombarded with humidity and the smell of grass on a hot day after an evening´s rain.  It´s not that the humidity or smell of vegetation is in and of itself spectacular, but it gives you a sense of being; that you are actually there and apart of the world around you.  I think alot of that is lost in the comfort of an air-conditioned car.  Winding up through the mountains, I reached my southeasterly turnoff.  It was a dirt road, and a brief conversation with a construction crew confirmed that it was the road I thought it was.  About three miles down the road, a huge smile came across my face, accompanied with the realizations that I was actually in Mexico, that this was really happening, and how awesome this whole adventure is! 

 

The road meandered through desolation, but the cattle guards in the road let me know that someone lived in the area.  The road passed through two unremarkable and small towns, and brought me to an unmarked fork on the outside of the second.  Neither road was on my map or on my GPS.  So I went with my gut instinct and took the road toward the right. I followed it for several miles to a barbed wire fence and a locked gate.  Serves me right for following my gut instinct!  So I retraced my way back to the fork to give the other road a try.  Thankfully, that one brought me to the town of Nacori Chico, just like I had hoped.  My fuel was running low, and it definitely wasn´t enough to cross the Sierra Madres with.  So I pulled over and spoke with five men who were working on a busted radiator in their truck.  After first offering me a beer, they pointed me to ¨La casa de gasolina¨.  Not a gas station, but a gas house.  A family has plastic barrels of gasoline stored at their house, which they transfer to jugs and funnel into your tank.  Very cool!  I´ve definitely never seen anything like this before!  With my tank full, I sought out a road that would lead me through the mountains to a road on the other side, which I could pick up and head south on. 

This was the gap in my original plan that I had to fill.  Was there even a road that did that?  My own exploration lead me down several dead ends.  Nothing is marked or named, and the roads certainly don´t show up on my map or on my GPS, (which is acting as nothing more than expensive compass).  I took several roads that after a couple miles would lead to a dump, a gate, or just end.  Wandering on the outskirts of town, I came to a fork and this one came complete with signs.  Unfortunately neither town was on my map or GPS. Grrrr.  So I went with the opposite of my gut instinct and was wrong again.  Backtracking again, I went with the other route and it started to look promising.  It was trafficked alot, heading due east, and straight into the mountains.  I did it!  I found the road to Chuhuichupa!  Before the smile had left my face, I rolled up to an open gate with a ¨Private Property¨ sign staring back at me.  But this had to be the route!  I went through the gate and followed the road for about a quarter mile.  As I rounded a turn with two horses in the road, a sizeable house appeared, and I knew that anyone there would most definitely see me ride by.  The house was actually too big and nice for comfort, especially since this is the heart of Mexico's marijuana crop.  I turned around and made my way back to the town. I asked a local man if he knew the road to Chuhuichupa, and he said yes and quickly added that it was really dangerous.  During the day I should be OK, but at night it is very bad.  I was unconvinced that the road he was directing me to was different from the one I had just been on, and I strongly doubted there were two roads going to the same place.  It was nearing 3pm, and there was another storm coming from the east. I thought about the situation and decided that taking a dirt (soon to be mud) road, through the heart of drug country, by myself, all while testing the enforcement of Mexico´s trespassing laws, was more of a recipe for disaster than for success.  Defeated, but content with my decision, I made my way back to Moctezuma, where I had started and where I spent the previous night.  I was disappointed that 10 hours of riding hadn´t gotten me anywhere, but I had a lot of fun and wouldn´t change a thing.

 

My second attempt at getting to Creel was even more exciting, and in hindsight, I wish I had the discretion I had the day before.  The first half of the day was uneventful, with my ride taking me along the Mexican version of the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Eventually a storm forced me to pull over and have a coffee and eat some enchiladas.  The waitress confirmed that the road I wanted to take to San Jaunito existed, and that it would take me about an hour and half to get there.  Eventually the rain slowed and the lightning passed and I decided to have a go at it.  It was around 4:30pm and I could easily make it to San Juanito by dark; maybe even Creel!  I stepped outside and the sky over the mountains was still ominously dark.  I asked the waitress how much a room in the hotel attached to the restaurant was, and she quoted me $25, which is what I had paid the last two nights, and which was also over budget.  I knew I could find a place in Creel for $10.  So being cheap, I decided to have a go at the road through the mountains. 

As I pulled onto the dirt/mud/stone/gravel road, a sign indicated that San Juanito was 87km away.  Huh, that seems kind of far. Oh well, I can make it!  The road began it´s meandering climb through the Sierra Madres.  The condition of the road slowed my pace down considerably.  About 20 miles into the pass, round two of the storm hit.  My visibility dropped down to nearly nothing.  At highway speeds, rain blows off of your visor, but at 10 to 20mph, it clings there until two drops team up and slide off.  It was getting dark quick, although I couldn´t tell if it was dark from the storm or from the sun setting.  I soon realized that I was in the exact situation I had turned back to avoid the day before, but I decided to press on today.  Around the 30 mile mark, or the halfway point, I even had myself a little worried.  I definitely was not going to make it in an hour and a half, and this was not where I wanted to be when the sun set.  The rain finally let up, and I picked up the pace, taking full advantage of the straight-aways.  What the hell am I doing here?  I´m such a ____ idiot!  The sun was officially down, and I was clinging to the last bit of light that made it down through the clouds and trees.  A few pickup trucks had passed me from the opposite direction, but now that it was dark, I held my breath each time I saw headlights ahead.  I thought to myself, Everyone has adamently insisted that I don´t ride at night.  So now that it´s dark, how long after dark does all the bad stuff happen, and how?  Do they run you off the road, set up road blocks, stop in front of you and jump out guns blazing?  Oh, and What the ___ am I doing here?

Soon three vehicles were coming from ahead.  I hadn´t seen three vehicles together since I´d been in Mexico.  This wasn´t looking good.  I went back and forth between having my tinted helmet visor up and down, in an attempt to see the vehicles approching without having my eyes filled with bugs or the stinging rain.  Closer they came.  My mind was racing at whatever speed is fast for a mind to work at, and as the first truck passed, I felt my body tense-up as I waited for muzzle-flashes to come from the windows.  The three vehicles passed without as much as a honk, and I let out a huge sigh of relief!  Obviously, this wasn´t the best place to be, but were my fears a little unfounded and was my mind taking things too far?  I decided to debate that later, and focus on getting down the road as fast as possible.  Unbelievably, I hit pavement!  Fresh stuff too!  Grading equipment lined the road, and I opened the throttle up, looking only for cattle in the road.  Arriving safely in San Juanito, I realized that there was definitely not a hotel in town, so I continued 30 more kilometers to Creel.  Phew, I actually made it!  I found a hostel in town and just as I had thought, it was only $10.  I just saved myself 15 bucks! 

As I entered the hostel, a Mexican family vacationing in Creel greeted me and the father looked at me with a hint of shock on his face.  He spoke English well and wasted no time telling me that I was a very lucky man and that being out on the road that late in the evening was not a good idea.  Like everyone else, he reiterated the risks of traveling at night in this region and insisted that they not be taken lightly.  I guess my fears weren't unfounded.  Ok, I need a beer!