What will no sleep, one meal, and over 1,000 miles of travel in a mere 24 hours all at once do to you? Well, 3 beers and some tequila shots back, and it’ll make you feel reeeeeeal good. ¡BIENVENIDOS A LA PAZ! ¡Beep Beeeeep! Es correcto, nosotros llegemos en La Paz, and our first hitchhiking experience is automatically one for the getoffyourgass logs, so ¡JUALITO PARA PASITO!
OK, so we realized that we just aren’t able to make it to Chiapas by bicycle with the time and money allotted. So, after riding a few excellent days with Paul and guerrilla camping outside of San Vicente, then riding the bikes into town, we left Paul to the road, and hopped a bus to Làzaro Càrdenas, a bigger town, where we wanted to hitch a ride as far south as possible. The bus rides down the Baja are NOT CHEAP, and niether is bicycling. We passed Paul along the way, spying him from above in the bus windows. It was a sad moment, realizing that we wouldn’t be “that bicyclist,” but we swallowed our pride and poverty. When we got into Làzaro Càrdenas, it was getting late, and we decided to find a place to camp and try hitchhiking in the morning. Well, no camping to be had in Làzaro Càrdenas, and the hotels were not an option for us. So we’re tramping through town, up and down the road and back, sun is setting, we’re getting a bit stressed, and I’ll be dammed. An angel comes to our rescue, literally. Ángel runs a used car lot off the main road and Jesse spotted his kind face, and asked him if it would be possible to camp on some empty space. He not only let us stay at the lot, but he let us sleep in a shaggin’ wagon van, and fed us cafe y galletas y bananas en la mañana! He was such a nice guy. He made sure to get our promise to come and stay with him again on our way back home. If we were going that way, we totally would! You’ll see a photo of him….
That morning, we were repeatedly told to get to the 3rd Pemex (that’s the ONLY type of gas station in Mexico) on the south side of town, because it’s the largest, where all the long-tail-xtracycle-hauling trucks pull into. So we stick out our thumbs for about half an hour, then a huge semi loaded with madera (wood) pulls in, and lets us on! The driver, I’ll call him “Wences,” successfully held up most of the personality traits of a stereotypical truck driver that make truck drivers look bad. But overall, as it turns out, he was a good guy. But it took 24 solid hours of sharing the same cab with him to figure that out, only known when he let us off just where we needed to be, safe and sound, and shook our hands and wished us a heart felt “!Bien Viaje¡” Our own over cautious presumptions almost got the better of us. As it happens, we land in La Paz, exactly one entire day later…
As we travelled on the road with Wences, we got the “enemy’s” perspective. As we bicycled out of the border towns into Baja before we hitched, we got the full impression of the bicyclist sharing the road with automobiles. And now, we have it from the other end. From on high, in the cab of the semi truck, the same trucks that repeatedly had to dodge our puny asses hugging that half-ass white line on the right side of the road with no shoulder to be had, while squeezing between the OTHER semi truck coming right for ‘em from the front. It was ridiculous how quickly I lost count at how many times Wences came to hitting side mirrors with oncoming trucks, and that was with no wide-ass long-tail bike to dodge down below. OK, I get it. I’m grateful for the realization of both worlds, in that I no longer have ’small dog syndrome,’ thinking I can pull road rights out here on these roads. When that trucker has to play 3-way chicken on an impossibly narrow road, there’s no question who’s going to lose.
All along Baja, there was some incredible scenery, volcanoes, fields of boulders and cactus, rolling hills of century plants and plains of cirio growth. Wences taught us the proper ways to speak obscene español, por lo jemplo: “Quiero a cambiar le la agua a las aceítunes.” Now, if any of you can translate that into proper mexican trucker, I’ll bring you a hell of a prize from Mexico OK! In between the scattered little pueblos, there were wild burros, vacas y caballos running down the road, cannibalistic dogs eating eachother’s carcasses off the asphalt, automobile graveyards around every curva peligroso - Wences says “¡YO ROBO LA CURVA!” - robbing the curves, making the road straight, driving the loaded semi like he was in the Baja 500 race. To be honest, Wences has been driving this same road for many years, and drove them like he owned them. I had full confidence in his road warrior skills. He had to make a couple of curious stops, leaving Jesse and I alone with the truck, but what he did I’ll leave to your imagination, as it was left to ours. Wences gave us a hell of a trip, 1,000 miles in 24 hours, and we’re grateful for introducing us to hitchhiking! It was both of our fist times hitching, after all.
As we ride into La Paz from the outskirts where Wences dropped us off, we have no concept of time and space, which plays to our advantage. We hit up the ferry office, finding out that the last ferry to Mazatlàn took off the day before, and the next one is not until a week from now! ¡Pinche barkos! Upon finding out that we were now stuck in La Paz for an unexpected week. We immediately started looking for the cheapest lodging possible, which does not exist here. The cheapest we could find was a beach about 8 miles out of town. Fine, but every time we want to come into town, we have to break camp, pack up the bikes, and ride loaded in to do our business, only to return to set up camp once more. We’ve got the word out around the place for spots to camp with the Baja Expedition people, and some folks at the marina. We checked internet options, found telephones and calling cards, got city maps, scoped out the marinas, inquired about temporary work at 4 different places, and all this before lunch time! When we finally sat down to eat, we thought we were eating an early dinner, and half way through, realized that it had just turned noon. HA!
Well, some time between christmas and new years, and we’ve just arrived in La Manzanilla. We finally found a ferry from La Paz, 4 days after we arrived. We camped our last night for free in the Casa Blanca trailer park, thanks to our neighbor Ross who took off for Cabo, and let us use his space that he had prepaid for. Our neighbors on the other side, Betty and Gerry from Nelson Canada, were waiting for a ferry as well, and so they took us to the ferry terminal that morning, a 16 mile ride that we never would have made in time. As it turns out, the ferries that weren’t running were actually just full, and we had found a second cargo company that allowed passengers, only if there was room. So Betty and Gerry just bought tickets for the next available boat and went back to the campground. We hit the second co. up, and they wouldn’t sell tickets until 2 pm, after the cargo was loaded. So it was about 11 am, and we were camped outside their door, when four backpacking kids showed up. Victor-Spain, Izzy-England, Braulio and Melina-Mexico, were trying to get to the main land, and between the six of us, we camped out at the first co, the second co. and the waiting list line, and the first person to the front would get the tickets. There were 2 routes from La Paz, Mazatlan (where we were trying to go) and Topolobompo. Jesse and Victor were the first to come through with the waiting list, and as we pay and look at our tickets, we see that they were for Topolobompo! They put us on the wrong waiting list! And there was no turning back, this place was like the Disneyland gates on the first day of summer vacation. The others also had these tickets, so we all loaded up together on the bigger boat (not the cargo co.). The good news was that the ride was only 5 hours, instead of 18! And the bad news is that, well, there isn’t any. So we had decided that with all the pickups and semi trucks loading the boat, we would score our second hitch out of the city, as far south as we could. 5 minutes on the boat and Jesse meets Jesus, Wences’ complete opposite. This was the greatest old man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He must have been 80, and looked way too small to drive such a massive truck. He was hauling canned tuna. Because of the weight of the cans, his trailer was only filled half to the top, with 6 feet or so open at the end. Our bikes fit perfectly, and he agreed to take all 6 of us with him!!!
The boat ride felt like it must have felt a hundred years ago when people trecked across the sea of water to a new land, arriving to a sea of people yelling and calling out in excitement of seeing their loved ones and all the new faces. Nothing but water for as far as the eye can see, and nothing to do but drink, eat and play games. There were many rounds of cinco dados, 5 dice, and quite a few rounds of beer, as well as some free and free-er meals. They served one meal with your ticket, and you could buy additional food. The meal they served was really good, but really small. When Jesse went through the line, he accidentally handed them his bicycle ticket - oh yeah, we had to purchase tickets for our bicycles - and then Victor (appearing more mexican and blending in better) went back through the line and got another plate with Jesse’s actual ticket, and they didn’t mark it! So then Izzy went through again with the same ticket for yet another plate! and they finally marked it. But its all good, there was plenty of food. Then an epic bicycle ride down the gang plank onto land! It was late, dark, and a complete cluster f**k when we got off. Our bikes were down with the semi trucks, and at first we got lost between the four levels of cars. I felt like I was locked in a gas chamber where the ceiling was inches above my head and not even enough room to walk between the hundreds of cars that had already started their engines and were sitting there filling the tiny space with fumes. Finally we found the bikes, and road out to the awaiting crowd. Hundreds of people, all lined up watching us ride our big fat loaded bikes out with all the cars ahead of us and all the semi trucks behind us, too funny!
Jesus was waiting for us outside the gates, just like he promised. We were hurrying to load our bikes into the trailer, and Jesus insisted “Camete! Tranquillo! This is Mexico, relax! Take your time!” Can you imagine this? The man we’re hitchhicking with, a man on the job, having 20 something hours of drive time ahead of him, and he’s telling us to chill out! I love this guy. Jesus dropped Braulio and Melina off in Culyacan, and Jesse and I in Tepic so we could keep on the coastline. He took Victor and Izzy with him all the way into Mexico City. We rode with them all night, and well into the next day, and by the time we parted ways, we just wanted to stay in the truck and keep riding with them! We had a great time, 3 of us all kicked back in the sleeper cab, one was sitting shotgun, talking the hours away with Jesus and eachother. Jesus was great, stopping all the time whenever we needed to pee, and wanting to buy us drinks from the store, and making sure we were comfortable and had everything we needed. In the morning he stopped at a northern office of the company he worked for, and needed to wait for some paperwork. So we all climbed in the back and laid out beds on top of the boxes of canned tuna and had a great rest! We woke up and made breakfast, cooking right there in the back of the truck parked on the side of the road. Jesus joined us for some tea, and told us, “whenever you’re ready, just take your time.” So then we landed in Tepic and said our fair wells. Jesus has a special place in our hearts for sure.
The funny thing about Tepic was, as we were loitering for another ride at the Pemex station that Jesus dropped us at, we meet this guy from El Salvador. As we sang our bicycle tune and told him we were from nor cal by Sacramento, he spits out “Yeah, I know Oroville.” We about fell out. And not only that, but he knows Leo, our friend that works with us on the orchard, that lives in Oaxaca that we’re going to see soon!!! Now I will always believe that this truly is a small world. Literally over 3,000 miles from home, and there’s still only one degree of separation.
So as the sun starts to set, and there’s no ride to be had, we decide to start searching for a spot to hunker down. We end up at a hotel, only the second one of this entire trip. We slept in a real bed and took 3 hot showers each by the time we left the next morning. We got our money’s worth! Our next destination: Puerto Vallarta. We catch a ride with a Puerta Vallarta high school teacher, one year away from retirement. He was on his way back from Tepic getting fishing supplies. He has a little boat that he was spending his vacation on, and his buddies were back there making turtle soup awaiting his return. He was a nice old guy. He gave us oranges and beer. 
And so we hit Puerto Vallarta, a city spanning from ancient to Ikea within a few kilometers. Cruise ships docked on one end, cargo ships on the other, seaside in front, mountain side in back. One of our most enjoyable rides so far was the 20 miles south out of the city. We stayed right about in the center. Our stay in Vallarta was about the best we could possibly ask for, thanks to the powers of celestine and a kid named René. We were in Vallarta approximately 5 minutes, and our presence had spread across half the city already. No joke. We started to ride toward Vallarta Viejo, old town, away from the cruise ships, and found a spot on the beach that would have been good to camp on. Jesse went into the bar closest to this, and spoke to the gringo owner to get the feel for the place. Well, that guy showed his true colors, telling Jesse that we couldn’t camp there, no its not allowed (which it IS, all beaches in Mexico are public), no, the tent that was already set up there will be removed by morning by the police. When Jesse questioned him, saying that 6 people, including the locals in the information booth on the main road told us to camp there, the guy spat back “well I can call the police NOW if you want me to!” So of course he was lying, we totally could have camped there, but not that it mattered. We got back on our bikes and as we started to ride off to hit up a taqueria, René walks by and says “hey! You’re the ones from California! I just heard about you!” Turns out that René was right next to the bar and heard them talking about us after Jesse walked out. So René adopted us, and we lived with him in a bar called the Galeria Clandestino. He said “I’m sleeping on the pool table, we’ll make a bed for you guys too!” René had been traveling from Montreal to Puerto Vallarta just about every year for 8 years, and had just arrived that morning by bus. He had made friends with the owner of the bar on a previous trip, and often crashes in the bar after it closes. The bar is also a gallery, with tons of artwork, all for sale. Its real mellow and comfortable, and we didn’t mind staying up till 3am when we could hang out in a bad ass place like this! We were hesitant at first, but it was scary how fast we got into the up-all-night routine. We had the bar all to ourselves all morning, right next to the beach, nice and warm, and two of the greatest taco stands right outside that stayed open until 5am.
We also had a chance to hunker down and finalize mixes and artwork to make some CDs. We got the idea to burn some of Jesse’s mixes onto CDs and print stickers for the front to make them look somewhat pro, then sell them for a few pesos. So far we’ve sold almost 50! And given some away of course, but it’s really helping us make some money to buy food and supplies! Just before we left Vallarta, we checked our email, and heard that Shanti and Mayama had just passed Vallarta and were camped at a beach called Tenacatita, about 100 miles south! And of course we were going to catch them!
So we tore ourselves away from Casa de Clandestino, and hit the cobblestone road. We rode out of town through the ancient neighborhood, along the cobblestone streets winding up the mountain side, narrow, twisting paths lined with walls covered in green vines or houses built with such color and character as to make you believe you could be anywhere in the ancient world. Once out of the city and onto the Mex 200, the road was rolling bliss with jungle to our left and the ocean to our right. Sunny, blue skies, cool breeze, no crazy drivers, it was awesome!
We rode a few hours, then hitched an hour, then rode a few more hours and camped at the only grassy knoll in Mexico, and it was at a Pemex station! The guard invited us before we even thought about it. He was great. The next morning a canadian picked us up and dropped us just a few miles from Tenacatita. As we were riding through the papaya fields, a little old man with white hair and super dark skin passed us up on his red motor scooter. He stopped and waited for us to catch up. His name was Chuy, and he told us that he had a special place, just for us, to camp right on the beach. Cheap and beautiful he kept insisting. Go through town, he told us, all the way to the other side, and straight up over the dirt road to the other side. He’ll keep an eye out for us. Yeah, we remembered that one.
So we rode that last few miles in, and found Shanti and Mayama’s campground. As we rode around the corner and saw Mayama standing next to her van, she looked up at us and stared in bewilderment. She actually thought we were mexicans riding around, and its not until we stopped and got off our bikes and were hugging her did she realize it was us! The look on her face was classic. I will always remember it. She yelled “Shanti! Shanti!” and funny enough, he thought that the circus was in town, seriously. He had heard our bike bells from inside the van, and remembered a circus troop that they had seen last year, and thought they had returned. I don’t think he was disappointed. They fed us a great veggie meal, by the likes of which we hadn’t eaten in weeks, and as evening came in, we set out to find Chuy. And just like he said, he had the perfect place for us. At the end of a peninsula, with a coral reef and mellow beach on one side, then over the hill behind it a black and white sand beach with deep emerald green and blue water, a bit more powerful than the reef side, then out beyond the rocks up the coast a hike, the open pacific beach with massive waves crashing down to the beach. There was a ridge that was up above the small village of RVs, that looked out over both the coral and the black sand beach that Chuy saved for us. When we asked him how much it was to camp there, he asked US how much we wanted to pay! We said 40 pesos ($4) a night, and in the end, he never did take our money! He was loving life too much, and saw that we were doing the same, and wanted nothing to do with money. We stayed there for 4 days, over Christmas, and swam in the waters, played music with Chuy and the crew from Québec, ate meals with people all over the campground, and just chilled out in the sand under the sun.
We met the Québec crew the second day we were there, and really connected with them. There was a family, Steve, his wife Joseé, and their 11 year old daughter Émilie, and then Oly and his girlfriend Rachel. Oly and Steve work together building platforms and slack lines in the tops of trees, a race track and trail that has become quite the sport in Canada. They drove down in their van and were camping at a ridge just across from ours. We ate meals together, learned spanish, english and french together, and I taught Émilie to play dice. She’s hooked!! And we were counting in english at first, then in spanish, so now she can count in 3 languages. They were such awesome people. They’re on basically the same route as us, down to Oaxaca, up to Chiapas, then north home, so we will undoubtedly see them again. We rode out of Tenacatita to La Manzanilla, where Shanti and Mayama had left for the day before us. So we decided to hang out here for a few more days and sell some CDs and check out the beach scene. In the same camp site as them, we met Louie and Julie, and their 2 kids Lilo and Luna, from Québec also. They have also fed us very well, all the vegetarian goodies that we can’t find in Mexico, like mung beans, brown rice, and pomegranate! Tonight at a gallery that just opened up a week ago there is a mediterranean dinner with afro-brazilian drumming and dancing. Louie will be drumming with them. Hello! I’m so there. Julie also fire dances, as well as creates absolutely amazing artwork with watercolor, acrylic and pens on canvas, rocks, or whatever surface needs some color. She also carves avocado pits with lotus flowers and designs like this, and does macramé pieces like bottle holders with shells hanging all around, and makes jewelry, and cooks like a pro, and oh yeah, did I mention her kids are only 7 and 3??? She’s my hero! I love her! And get this: her son has his own portfolio of artwork. And let me tell you, its out of this world. Watercolor, crayons, pens, the best art I’ve ever seen from a person his age. Abstract, 3-demensional, symmetrical, colorful. Incredible!
Beyond our stay here in La Manzanilla, all we know is that we want to get to Chacahua for an extended stay, then onto San Cristobal De Las Casa and Palenque for another extended stay, then to Leo, Lucy, and Pancho’s in Huajuapan De Leon in northern Oaxaca. How we get there and when, who knows!!! We’ll inevitably end up hitching some more, and definitely riding some more. Until then…………..
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