End of
OCT 06 - 11/6/06
We’ve never
done things the easy way. Never. So why start now.
The last
month in Providence was a blurrrrr. We
needed 2 months to prepare for this trip without other distractions like work,
but couldn’t afford to. So we had 2
weeks. 2 weeks to get the bikes
finished. Get all the gear, clothing,
plans, and such ready. I really can’t
remember much of that time at all now.
It seems so far away. I do
remember being sad. Sad leaving friends
and a city that had really grown on me.
I do remember being sad to leave the library, despite all the crap
there. I do remember not sleeping much
at all. I think the last few days
Christina and I slept 4 hours over 4 days!
I remember being powered on some sort of strange energy – adrenaline and
caffeine, mixed with a dream being born.
I remember
a last minute plea at Providence Bicycles for them to help me pack up the
bikes. I had tried at home and just
couldn’t see them fitting. Mike gave
one twist and…
Thanks to
everyone there who helped us with last minute help!
The last 48
hours was really insane. A blink of a
rent-a-car drive to Hartford. Sunlight
on my face as I sipped tea at Christina’s sister’s (a momentary oasis in chaos) Last minute re-packing of panniers. Getting directions to JFK. Fretting about the bikes in their cardboard
boxes strapped to the roof of the rent-a-car as the rain poured down in
NYC. The kindness of the airline guys
at Continental who were supposed to charge us 100.00 extra for each bike but
didn’t. Thanks guys! Jack Daniels on the plane. Sleep.
Awake. Worried about the bikes
in their boxes.
Suddenly we’re
in Guadalajara. 11:30 AM. Holy shit.
It’s for real. It was November 2nd,
3 days after we had originally planned to be there. Somehow Christina had convinced the airlines not to charge us
extravagant fees each time we delayed our flights. I barely remember the phone calls except for something about a
¨dry socket¨ - which though I had a hole in my mouth from a removed wisdom
tooth days before, I luckily did NOT have.
The bikes
were delayed in Guadalajara for 2 days.
They said it was because they were so big and their planes were so
small. We think it may have been
because they took the entire bikes apart looking for drugs or gunpowder or
money for Oaxacan teachers. With time
to spend in Mexico’s second largest city before our bikes arrived, we decided
to rent a car and head down to the Lake Patzcuaro
(one State south, Michoacan) area to catch the end of the Dia de los Muertos
festivals.
Driving out
of Guadalajara was a nightmare – especially because it was a holiday at rush
hour. But once we were on the Autopista
(toll road), the traffic dropped to almost nothing. And the reason why became clear as soon as we hit the first
80peso toll! We got off the toll road
and began the surreal drive through the dark hills or Michoacan. It literally felt like we had entered some
spirit world. We were so exhausted from
leaving the US, and the dark curves in road, and the falling asleep, and the
roadside fires burning. We got totally
lost in the pueblo (town) of Zamora and had to be led back to the road by a cop
on motorcycle. We drove around Lake Patzcuaro, stopping at small pueblos, and looking at the
riot of colors that the graveyards had become for this holiday. The pork tacos in Tzintzuntzan were to die
for! We slept that night in the car, at
a rest stop by the side of the Autopista.
Back
to Guadalajara the next day to find a hotel and await the bikes. The ride back in the daylight was
beautiful. The hills of Michoacan were
full of wildflowers, the tiny Ranchos (smaller than a pueblo) were bustling and
alive. We found a hotel near the
airport. We were extremely
exhausted. Needed sleep. Needed beer. My shoes (Lake Tour/Hike) felt uncomfortable and too big. The woman at the hotel wouldn’t give us the
room key. She just told us she would
lock and unlock it when we wanted!
The
city of Guadalajara itself is a mess.
At least the parts we saw. It’s
huge, and sprawling, and dirty. The
traffic is a constant state of insanity.
The busses are dirt cheap though and the Centro (downtown center,
usually with Plaza) was incredible and gorgeous. Several ¨squares¨ with fountains, sculptures, and markets. In one of the main squares, supporters and
members of the APPO (Popular assembly from Oaxaca that has spread nationwide in
the last month or so) has set up a protest and vigil with tents, banners, and displays. We talked to folks there for a while about
the current struggle.
The
next day the bikes came. We convinced a
taxi to tie them to his roof and brought them in the boxes back to the
hotel. I was terrified to look in them. The outside of the boxes were slashed and
bent. That night I reassembled the
bikes. Luckily everything seemed to be
fine. My only problem was I couldn’t
get the derailleur on my bike back in its place (I had stupidly removed it when
packing it, which I didn’t have to do to make it fit I later realized). Several hours, beers, yelling fits later, I
got it to work. You have to remember
now, we don’t know a hell of a lot about bikes! We wanted to take a crash course in bike mechanics/repair before
we left, but never got around to it.
Real smart for a trip like this.
We
also tested out our stove – a Brasslite alcohol stove. Was so simple and burned real quiet. Very small though. Makes cooking a big meal quite a pain! But it adds almost no weight to our huge burdens.
The
next day we packed up our panniers, mounted them on the racks, left one of our
extra duffel bags behind, and rode into Guadalajara to find the Bus
Station. People who know what they are
doing train for weeks for long bikes tours.
People who know what they are doing load up their bikes and take them
out on long rides fully loaded to get used to how that feels. As I said, we never do things the easy way. No training, and no practice, our first
fully loaded experience is biking on a major highway into downtown Guadalajara,
Mexico’s second largest city, looking for the Bus Station. This proved to be scary and hard as
hell. But we eventually made it. The bikes were loaded on the bus (I flinched
as the bus driver’s helper heaved them underneath like sacks of potatoes) and
we climbed up. We didn’t mean to but we
had chosen the 1st class bus – complete with free sandwich, loud
music, X-files in Spanish, and kinda comfy seats. 7 hours later we arrived, exactly when we didn’t want to, at
night in Puerto Vallarta. We got the
bikes off the bus, re-loaded the panniers, and so the bicycle part of our trip
began.