Most of the routes I've been riding rarely bypass communities. These highway usual becomes a series of busy streets as the rider progresses through the city. While riding through these communities one must be continuously scanning the area for signs as you could easily make a wrong turn. Such was the case while riding through the city of Tecoman. Somehow I missed a turn and because I was riding on a series of one way streets I could not retrace my path. After a number of unsuccessful trips around the area I flagged-down a cab. I asked for directions to the highway to Playa Azul. He proceeded to provide instructions in Spanish along hand signals. I soon realized I could not following those directions. With the aid of hand signals and some very crude Spanish I asked if he would lead the way and I'd follow him back to the highway. He agreed and within a couple of kilometers I was taken to the highway. I offered him $20.00 Pesos to which he indicated was acceptable. I thanked him for his help - shook his hand and rode off happy to be once again riding south.
This stretch of highway 200 along the central Pacific hugs the sea as it passes along untouched beaches. The Serria Mandre del Sur mountain range form a lush inland backdrop. The highway is a series of ups and downs along chase-your-tail-turns. I had stopped to take a few photo's - admire the view - sit back for a 15 minutes break. When I got back onto the highway within a half Kilometer I quickly realized I was in big trouble. I was in a curva peligrosa - dangerous curve going much to fast. I put the bike down and we went off the road into the bushes. It was a terrible feeling to crawl out of the ditch and look down at my beloved moto thinking “what kind of a mess have I put myself into this time”. On a positive note I was not injured – another testimony for wearing protective riding gear. Within a few minutes help arrives. It will take five of us to push and pull the bike up out of the bushes and onto the road. A close inspection indicates there was no major damage. We push the motorcycle forward to get the transmission in neutral. The engine fires up immediately and I rode the bike off the road to a cleared area. The only damage to the moto was the right turn signal light has broken off and the windscreen has dislodged from securing points but remained functional. For the second time within this journey the engine guards and the Jesse luggage boxes have saved my bacon. I thanked the individuals who had stopped to assist as they prepared to leave. I remained alone at the scene to reflect on what just happened here. This event could have been very serious – This is definitely a wake-up call – I was simply not focused – no doubt about this it was definitely operator error. The words of the Policia Federal officer who I had encountered on the highway to Durango have come back to haunt me “Slo Slo”. As I rode-off I realized I was extremely fortunate that I wasn't injured nor was the motorcycle damaged from this event. Later that evening I would reinstalled the turn signal light and reattached the windscreen. Other then a few new minor scrapes on the bike there is little indication that such an incident occurred. This happens to be one hell of a motorcycle I am riding..
I would spend the night at Hotel Merie Teresa in the tiny beach community of Playa Azul. The narrow door into the reception area made for a tight fit as I rode the bike into the court yard. This is a great service many hotel administrators in this country provide to motorcyclist. It is very comforting knowing your bike is safely stored overnight. At 05:30 the following morning I was awaken by church bells then again at 06:00 the bells would ring. I can only assume the first ringing was to wake everyone in the village and the second sounding was the starting off Mass. This is lent season. Now that I was awake I got an early start on that today's ride.
This day's ride would provide more incurable mountainous and ocean scenery as I made my way south to Acapulco. This cosmopolitan city (pop.925,000) is one of the worlds top tourist destination with a large number of mega resorts. When approached the city I encountered an army check point. With a hand signal I was requested to pull over to the inspection area. I had previously encountered a number of these army check points along this ride but was never ordered stopped. I was quickly surrounded by five solders. Four of the them were carrying very large automatic rifles. These young men appeared to be in there early twenty's. The only individual without a weapon their spokesman approached me as I demounted from the bike and removed my helmet and sunglasses. He asked if I spoke Spanish. His facial expressions indicated he wasn't particularly pleased he'd have to struggle through this inspection in English. With broken English which was surprising good he stated he wanted to look at what I had stored in my luggage boxes. To which I responded “Amigo I'll show you whatever you'd like to see - where do you want to commence”. As he inspected my gear I talked about my travels and regions I had visited. When I mentioned British Columbia he quickly turn and said “you were in Columbia”. “Oh no British Columbia - Canada” I never use that line again I thought. As the inspection drew to a close the mood became very relaxed. I quickly realized that this was a group of young men who were not having much fun inspecting their fellow country men's personal belongs. They were definitely interested in my ride and impressed with the motorcycle. We continued to chat and they became very friendly. Prior to riding off I was provided with directions on how I could bypass Acapulco to avoid the heavy city traffic. I left them with my card so they could checkout this blog. I shook their hand and wished them well. They waved and smiled as I rode off.
I entered Acapulco via the southern approach after exiting the city bypass. I stopped at a number of hotels seeking accommodations for the night but no rooms were available. I hadn't realized that this was Friday afternoon and this popular tourist destination is only 350 KM from Mexico City one of the world largest cities. For the first time since during this ride I couldn't find a place to sleep. I stopped at the gated entrance to the Princess Hotel and Resort. I spoken to one of the armed guards who indicated that if a room were available in this establishment I pay in excess to $3,000.00 Pesos per night. The guard also indicated I may find accommodations if I continued riding south out of the city. After a few more unsuccessful stops I became very concerned. Fortunately I located the Hotel Real Mar some 20 kilometres outside the city - here I was provided with a room. At a cost of $1,500.00 Pesos / $150.00 Dollars this first class facility provided much relief following a stressful afternoon. With an 1.5 hours of daylight remaining I rode off to locate a restaurant. As I entered a village I noticed an outdoor eating establishment where most of the tables were occupied - a good indicator for quality food. I sat down ordered a coke and asked to see a menu. They young lady indicated there was no menu and proceeded to list the three items which was being served this evening. I informed her I did not understand any of what she had said but I'll have item one. Judging from the look on her face and body language I assume she said “Do you really want the iguana?” “No thanks I'll try item number two please”. I couldn't help but laugh as she left to place my order. My dinner soon arrived. I had ordered some sort of a stew. It was served in a large soup bowl – I assumed the meat was beef but I am not sure what parts – it contained no vegetables. As I started the meal I thought “don't think about it just eat it”. I soon cleaned-out my bowl. Happy with this accomplishment I returned to the Hotel Real Mar. This secure hotel is enclosed via a three metre block wall - access was provided via a large gate at the front - the rear of the property was open to the beach. A guard with a large pistol secured to his belt was positioned at the front gate. From my balcony I would later spotted two guards with automatic rifles patrolling the beach area. As I sat there I thought “my trusty steed and I have plenty of protection from the banditos tonight”. Happy to have comfortable place to sleep I settled down for the night.
The following morning I set out in a southerly direction following highway 200 through a region known as the Costa Chica / Small Coast. A large portion of this regions population consist of Afro-mestizo ( people of mixed African, Indigenous and European descent). This region was once a safe haven for Africans who escaped slavery from the Spanish. This is an impoverished region apart from its few tourist spots. For the next six hours my ride would consist of alternately climbing hill and descending into river valleys some of which contained coco- palm plantations. This highway provided some great riding as it wends along the coast with it's many lagoons and pristine beaches. This is an area of lush tropical vegetation where the ambient air is hot and humid - the temperature on this day would fluctuated between 25C to 34C.
A few observations from this days ride. 1) Within the first hour I encountered an army check point - with a hand signal I was instructed to proceed. 2) The poverty within the towns and villages along this route appeared to be much higher then those communities north of Acapulco. The housing facilities within these communities were very basic. 3) I crossed a number of bridges where I observed women washing clothing in the river below. Lines were strung between the trees on the river bank where the garments were hung to dry. 4) I observed a number woman carrying large loads on their heads. One teenage girl balanced a log approximately 1.5 meters long x 15 cm. I questioned how this young woman could have such strength for such an activity.
I arrived in Puerto Escondido (Hidden Port) and got a room at the Hotel Vista Hermosa. As I completed the registration paper work there was some great blues music playing in the back ground. I joked with the young lady about the Mexican music I was hearing – she indicated there was a Resturante Americana in this building. At the Split Coconut I would meet Ross the bartender from Alberta and Brad the cook from Atlanta. This restaurant's house specialty is BBQ ribs – steak – burgers. Food of the homeland none of which I've tasted in months. After a couple of cool cerveza - a large juicey steak was placed before me. It was devoured in little time and throughly enjoyed. However within a couple of hours there were signals my internals were not happy with this latest meal. - Guts in Turmoil. For the first time within this journey I got the runs. I used the Pepto Bismal which I had carried with me from Arizona because many had warned me that Mexican food would make me ill. A few days later I realize I have a new problem - a buddy Neil provides me with a couple of Dulcolax tablets because I have not had a BM in a couple of days. I am now happy to report that things have returned to normal - and I hate drugs.
On afternoon I walked over to the market area to attempt to find 20-W-50 Castrol motorcycle oil and a shop where the oil in the moto could be replaced and dispose of it. With a few written notes and some poorly spoken Spanish I approached individuals who were riding motorcycles to assist with my quest. Within an hour I was able to find both and extremely pleased with this accomplishment.
I would remain in Puerto Escondido for eight days. There is a large Canadian community who flock to this region each winter which provided ample opportunity to socialize. This region is a bit of a jewel. The weather is great, it has a number of great beaches and the accommodations, food and cerveza are very reasonable priced. What more would a saddle tramp require?
Banana plantations are very common along this section of Highway 200.
I stopped to admire the scenery when these two Brits arrived in this bus. They are buskers who have been touring Mexico for a year and plan to be in Halifax this summer for the Buskers Festival.
It was a terrible feeling to crawl out of the ditch and look down at my beloved moto thinking “what kind of a mess have I put myself into this time”.
The scenic coast line along Highway 200.
The scenic coast line along Highway 200.
The scenic coast line along Highway 200.
The narrow door into the reception area of the Hotel Marie Teresa made for a tight fit as I rode the bike into the court yard.
The scenic coast line along Highway 200.
The scenic coast line along Highway 200.
Bahia de Acapulco.
I considered removing this unit from the post and securing it to the handle bars of my moto.
On Sundays the beaches are busy as the local residents gather to enjoy the sea.
The beach at Puerto Escondido. Other then on Sundays the beaches are uncrowded.
My trusty steed get an oil / filter change.
This Puerto Escondido beach restaurant was a favorite breakfast spot. I thought the CCRR Sunday morning running / breakfast club gang would appreciate this photo.
