On April 8, I was back on the freeway. It remained flat and I soon reached the next state of Michoacan. There was no one around except some cows in the field. Soon after, the hills started again and I was back in the mountains. I finally reached the little town of Churitzo about a hour before sunset only to find my rear tire had gone flat.

         I pumped some air into the tire and rode around town trying to find some vegetables and fruit. As I was riding along, a woman stopped me and asked if she could take my picture on the bike. She took the picture and then said in Spanish that I was good looking and then asked for a kiss. I obliged then continued to the outskirts of town until I found another Pemex Station. By this time, my tire had gone flat again. I tried to fix it in the dark but with no luck. I set up camp and crashed for the night without eating.

         The next day the heat and the hills continued. I arrived in Panindicuaro and, with some directions, I found a small hotel which didn't look like much on the outside. However, the inner court had a rose garden and the rooms were clean and well maintained. I decided to stay there for two days and rest.

         On April 11, I was out on the highway again and it began to feel cooler as I reached 2000 feet. In Huaniqueo, I started to look for gas for my stove when I met Mario. He asked me all the usual questions about my bike and then invited me to a bar for a beer. Mario was born in Mexico but moved to California at an early age. He had returned to Mexico to find his roots and to learn to speak Spanish. He then invited me to his place for a meal. His friend, who ran the bar, locked up and we all left for Mario's place. He lived with his sister and father in a very nice house with a central court which had numerous elaborate pots containing different kinds of plants.

         While Mario's sister prepared supper, he offered us a coconut which had a hole drilled in the top so we are able to drink the coconut milk. At 5:30 p.m., we sat down to a supper of beef chilli, noodle soup served with crumbled cheese and sour cream and freshly baked tortillas. Over supper, I learned more about the family. The sister, who did not eat with us, had been married but her husband had died. Mario had been married and had two children back in California. He had a girlfriend in Mexico that he planned to marry. After supper, the family offered me a room for the night. I took a shower and then we wandered down to the town square to have a beer and watch the activities. There was a 9 p.m. curfew on drinking in the town square so we returned to the house and I went to bed while Mario went out again with his friends. That night and the next morning, I spent most of my time in the bathroom with a major case of diarrhoea - something I ate, I assumed!

         In the morning, Mario had to catch a 9:30 a.m. bus so I said goodbye to him and packed my stuff to leave. Out on the Highway, the land was rolling and I soon came along side Laguna de Cuitzeo, a large shallow lake which was partially dried up. I had lunch under a bridge as usual. Further along the highway, I stopped for a rest and as I was sitting there I saw a puppy standing under the guard rail in the middle of a four lane Highway. I found something to lean my bike against and when I turned around, there were now two puppies, one standing in the middle of the road. I rushed across and scooped them both up not having a clue what I was going to do with them. I remembered that there was a pasture about a quarter of a mile back with some cows and a guy herding goats. I decided to take them there. This involved going down a steep embankment and through some bush. I arrived at the field and put them down but as soon as I turned to leave, they followed me. I carried them further into the field and then hurried back to my bike. I made it to the next toll station where I spent the night.

         I reached Atlacomulco by lunch on April 15 after a long climb. The highway then started to follow a long valley with small rolling hills. I passed through Ixtlahuaca in the late afternoon and, after a brief look around, I continued down the highway as the rain clouds started to roll in. I decided to go back to town to find a hotel rather than camp in the rain. Back in town, I realized that it was market day and many of the streets were closed off for vendors. After searching around for a hotel with no luck, I went into a restaurant to ask where there might be a hotel. The owner sent me off with a young boy on a bike to find a hotel. He rode through the rain and pandemonium of market day and arrived at a place that I had passed earlier. I never thought to stop there as there was no sign indicating that it was a hotel!

         The next day, the gentle rolling hills continued and as I got closer to Mexico City, I started to see more expensive cars such as Ferraris, Porches, Corvettes, Jaguars, Mercedes and BMWs. Outside of Toluca, a police car started to follow me as I slowly made my way down the freeway. After about twenty minutes, I stopped at a store to get some water and the police car drove on by. I assumed that he was providing an escort for me where there was no shoulder on the rode. I continued through Toluca on a flat section of road which took me to the base of the mountain that separated Toluca from Mexico City. I decided to camp there for the night.

         On April 17, I started off on a hill and the climb continued for the rest of the morning. Soon, police cars and ambulances flew by with sirens whaling and then the traffic started to back up. I soon arrived at the cause of the commotion. A bus had hit a concrete power pole and the back end of the vehicle was in a deep ditch with the power line wrapped around it. The front end of the bus, pointed in the wrong direction, was badly damaged. The power line ran from the bus through the air across to a pole that was still standing. There was just enough room for the transport trucks to manoeuvre under the wire if they moved onto the shoulder where I was riding. I spent the next while playing chicken with transport trucks! We finally passed the accident and, as the climb continued, I found it difficult to breath. My G.P.S. indicated that I was at 10,000 feet. The summit came surprisingly quick and then it was an endless downhill run toward Mexico City.

Mexico - Mexico City