Southern Exposure

Friday, December 12

It took until Friday to finally tear ourselves out of our comfortable nest in Oaxaca. One of the reasons for our lingering in Oaxaca was our attempt to receive a DHL package from the states. Inna’s Starcom headset had died one speaker at a time prior to our arrival in Oaxaca and my parents were sending a replacement and a spare. Unfortunately we asked them to put some extra Benadryl in the package, which caused the package to be held in customs. If we had wanted to spend a week doing special paperwork we might have had a chance to receive the package, but we were both itching to be moving again so we told them to reject the package and return it to the US. Maybe we can get it in Panama City.

After riding them sans luggage to the nearby cities, the bikes felt heavy and sluggish fully loaded. It didn’t diminish my happiness to be back on the road. We made it 15 miles before our first stop. We wanted to see the giant tree at Tula. The trunk circumference is 58m and it’s 2-3000 years old. It was quite a site, a tree with the opposite growth strategy of a redwood. Instead of growing up, it grew sideways. It was impossible to fit into a photo frame. We were both grateful the Spanish didn’t turn it into a church, although they did build one right next to it.

We were properly in the riding mindset after Tula and headed southwest through the mountains towards the coast. The road descended from the Oaxacan plateau (~6500 ft) through arid, semi desert valleys. It has become clear that Mexico is full of great motorcycle roads. Unlike the very tight twisty road we took up to Oaxaca, this section of 190 was perfectly linked sweeping corner after another. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and everything felt right as the bike transitioned gracefully from arc to arc.

We descended into a valley that had a small pueblo – I think it was San Pedro Totolapan. It was at the bottom of a valley surrounded on all sides by mountains. To the north the blue mountains looked like a cloud nursery or Mordor. A huge bank of clouds rested on the mountain peaks, but they were held at bay, in place, by some interest act of climatology. Perhaps these were the cloud forests I had heard mentioned. The vista was beautifully compelling.

We climbed out the valley and were again thwarted by the lack of safe places to stop and take pictures. The view of the pueblo, the mountains, and the clouds were stunning but will remain only in our memories. Once we rode through the pass at the top, we began to descend towards the coastal plain. This side of the mountains were the dry side, and the cactus of Mexico were back in force.

I had noticed on the map and on the GPS that we were riding by a large lake, Presa B. Juarez, and it was driving me nuts that we had nearly rode the length of it without so much as a glimpse of it. Over one small rise we caught a glimpse of it, and I took a detour down the only paved road I saw to try and get closer. The road soon turned to dirt and we made it to a high point. The detour was worth the effort. Once in full view, the lake was a marvelous site. To the north, the blue mountains and their looming clouds watched guardian over the lake. The lake glistened with whitecaps from the winds, a sign of things to come for us. A plain of palm trees bordered the south shore of the lake. A man was building a new house right where we stopped to take pictures. I was jealous as he will get to wake up to that view every day. Well chosen, amigo.

We didn’t have a set destination in mind for today’s ride, we were only trying to get as close to San Cristobal as possible. We quickly passed through Tehuantepec and the as we approached Juchitán. The wind was reminiscent of our ordeal near Los Angeles, but I would guess about 25% less. However, instead of being in rush hour on a 6 lane superhighway, we were in light traffic on a two lane road. We just slowed down and took our time. It was not fun, but without the threat of being blown into 5 lanes of traffic, it was more irritating than terrifying.

As we rode past Juchitán the intensity of the wind really increased, and it became progressively more stressful. We had entered a massive windfarm. It was a puzzling juxtaposition that we were really struggling in the wind and none of the turbines were spinning. They were either not in service yet or the wind was too strong, which I didn’t think was possible. We rounded the corner into another valley and not only was the wind even worse, the horizon was littered with windmills. We took that as a negative omen and turned tail to Juchitán. It was getting late and the wind was just too much to deal without knowing how far we had to go to a resting place.

The city of Juchitán was another pleasant Mexican town. We found a cheap hotel and headed for the zócalo for dinner. The plaza was filled with flower vendors nestled under low trees harboring a squawking symphony of birds. Each pillar in the plaza was occupied by a woman chef grilling dinner for patrons on the plaza. We bought a bottle of wine at a convenient store and ordered the specialty at the plaza, a jumbo quesadilla consisting of beef, cheese, chicken, and pickled onions and carrots. It was surprisingly good and we enjoyed our bottle of wine to the accompaniment of local boys serenading the plaza with guitars and drums.