Week 3: Heading for the Coast

Leaving the bikes in Teotihuacan with Larissa’s (our couchsurfing hosts) family we took an easy bus ride into Mexico city. Looking at the roads as we weaved our way in through the sprawling suburbs from the safety of a bus, we were glad we had chosen to ditch our trusty steeds for the day. 28 hours was no where near enough time to do justice this fabulous city, but we were there long enough to soak up some of the buzzing atmosphere, squeeze in a bit of the famous street food and get a bit of culture with a Folklore Ballet (touristy but fun) at the beautiful Bella Artes theatre. I’m already plotting my return here in a few weeks!

Bella Atres at night

Back with our adopted family that evening we had a few more Spanglish conversations over coffee and bid our farewells to those we wouldn’t see again. Larrrisa’s uncle, who makes beautiful hand crafted figures to sell to tourists at the pyramids and in Cancun, promised to send us each a piece of his handicraft to the UK to await us on our return. So generous, and I can’t wait to see what he sends us!

Guillermo showing us his work in progress!

The Galicia family. Sitting down me and Larissas mum were the same size. Much laughter...

The mission was now on to get me to Cancun for the 29th to meet a friend for a bit of old school backpacking. At over 1000 miles away its going to be a stretch but I want to get as close as possible before resorting to a bus for the last stretch.  So, we are bound for the Veracruz coastline, one last mountain pass to cross then we’ll have 2500 metres of descent to sea level. A good reward for all the uphill we’ve done!

We continued with our plan to stay off the main roads which took us down some great routes and also threw us a few challenges. A few dozen miles of sandy roads and gravel tracks through corn and cactus farms, tested the bikes and our balance, and resulted in some bemused looks from the onlooking farmhands. 

Offroading through Cactus farms

We had to give in for a while on thw sandy road and push. My big head is blocking the view of the Volcano behind us

Though we were mostly cruising through the flat plateaus of the Mexican highlands, snow capped dormant and extinct volcanoes started to become a regular feature on the horizon, mostly shrouded in haze but distinctive from their top-cut-off cone shapes.  Pico de Orizaba became our constant companion for half a day as we started a last climb out of the plateu and up to the highest we’d been on the bikes – 2800 metres.  A young guy on a mountain bike whizzed past us, grinning and enjoying the downhill as we were inching our way up. But he joined us in our pain for a bit and turned around to come and chat for a chat.

We had only found the road we were following from Esperanza up and over the hills down to Cordoba, then to sea level at Tierra Blanca, on google maps at the last minute and had kept our fingers crossed that it would be rideable. It was a bit of a bumpy ride at tines, but fascinating to see how the people, the landscape and the crops changed so drastically in the space of what is really only 30 miles or so as the crow flies.  Nearing the peak, the villages were much more remote and almost felt like a swiss alpine setting, as dense pine trees began to line the roads. The faces that peered out at us behind shawls and toothy smiles had indegenous features and darker complexions, and we heard local dialects being spoken in giggles rather than Spanish. It was obviously a harsher but simpler life up here away from the chaos of the towns, cities and highways.

After a great lunch of empanadas cooked up on the roadside by a bunch of smiling ladies, it was FINALLY time for the long awaited downhill. It came fast and needed a couple of break tightenings along the way, but down we went…switching back between valleys and the sounds and smells of Sunday fiestas drifting up to us as we zoomed down on the trafficless roads. The clouds had started to gather around the hills below us and by early afternoon we were above them, then going through them, finishing under grey skies at the bottom in Cordoba, welcomed by a clown who added a bit of colour to the afternoon.

It had been a more tiring day on the bikes than expected with headwind and pot holes taking some of the speed out of our descent, and we were looking out for a motel after surviving a busy road through Cordoba.  Now, you are normally never far from Motels and Hotel on the main roads in Mexico, and most of them are pretty cheap – from £10 – £20 a night. Perfect for tired cyclisys you would think…but there is a catch! Many of these have names that you might see in a late night channel 5 film title, or when you look twice at the logo you realise that it isn’t a picture of minie mouse enjoying an icecream.  Yes, in Mexico there is a whole industry (and it appears to be thriving!) built up to enable men to sleep with ladies of the night or have affairs, without being spotted or paying for more hours in a hotel than absolutely necessary. Welcome to the “Love” hotels!

Often these are fairly easy to spot. Go past the neon blue “Motel Aphrodisiac Karma Sutra – Rooms from $100 pesos for 4 hours!” and instead head for “Hotel Don Miguel”. However, apparently the rules to spotting a love motel aren’t always so concrete! Thinking we were safe with the subtly named “Hotel Venecia”, and not wondering too much why she looked at us strangely when we asked for 2 beds, we were a little surprised to open the door to a wipe cleanable suite, fully equipped with overbed mirror, see through shower doors, a menu of unique room service items not available in your normal Holiday Inn Express. Still, it was cheap and clean and after a few giggles and flipping a coin for who got the bed for the night, we had a taco dinner (not from room service…) and a decent sleep. Earplugs very necessary.

Room service menu

"To avoid your wife catching you sleeping with hookers we will hide this night on your credit card bill as "CAPELADO AC"

After a regrettable decision to eat my breakfast on the curb outside the hooker hotel and recieving a few too-interested beeps and winks, we set of to finish the descent. Quickly turning off the main road, we spent a glorious couple of days whizzing through sugar cane plantations, rolling green hills and then flat swamplands, the scenery around us suddnly densely green and lush after weeks in the arid highlands.

Everything suddenly gorgeously green and lush

A group of vulctures have their eye on something

We also spotted cocoa, coffee, coconuts, papayas, and mango trees, while the variety of birdlife was incredible over the water. By the way…am I the only ome who though pineapples grew on palm trees?? Yes? Ok…..well lesson learnt for me! We passed fields and fields of spiky leaves sticking out of the ground and sprouting pineapples, the aromas drifting through the air and making me thirsy for a pienapple juice. Luckily they are perfectly in season and our main competition on the roads were trucks transporting harvested sugar cane to the local processing factories and pineapples to the locals selling them on the roadside. Unbelieveably fresh, juicy and tasty. Yum!

Trucks delivering raw sugar cane to the processing factory. Smelt like burning caramel!

Pineapples growing at the roadside

A few fun incidents on our way down…stopping in a small town for some lunch we were befriended first by the town square taco seller who brought us some free samples, then a man who introduced himself as a local radio presenter and swiftly subjected Mat to a very rapid fire interview in Spanish, recorded for playing later that night on !!Tierra Blanca Radio Max!! I even made a cameo appearance, when DJ Chilleno shoved the recorder in my face and said “say something in English”. Ever calm under pressure I then messed up my one line saying something like “Er….Welcome….um…I mean….thank you for the welcome we have received in Mexico, we are very happy”. 5 minutes of fame somewhere in a small Mexican town!

Our free taco delivery!

Happy with free tacos (this must have been before I tried them as they were the only bad ones I've had!)

Matts moment in the spotlight

Hearing a familiar “ping” after pummeling through one too many potholes resulted in a broken spoke, we also had to make a brief stop in Loma Bonita to find a bike shop. Being a pro bike mechanic Matt had planed to do the job himself after tracking down a place with the right tool, but instead left the owner to it who was obviously proud to show off his skills. An hour or so later, after watching the guy perfectly true the wheel using only his thumb as a guide, we were waved off “no price” but returned to deliver the boys a case of cold beer for their efforts!

We also encountered our first other touring cyclist on the road since I joined Matt in Guadlajara. Peter Smolka is a lovely German guy who is a bit of a legend apparently to those who know (ie. Matt) and he was two years into a 4 or 5 year trip around the world via everywhere, and we spent an evening with him and gave Matt a bit of much needed bike nerdiness before waving him off towards Guatamala.

So, within the space of a week it feels like I am in a completely different country! Goodbye sunny arid days and cold nights, hello sweaty humid greenery and mosquito filled dusks. The landscapes have changed, the people have changed and even the language seems to have changed! We end with a day off in Villahermosa, then its the final stretch to Cancun. Time to buy some bug spray.

Week 2: Guanajuato to Teotihuacan, off the highways and into the highlands!

Today (Tuesday) is day 12 on the bike, and it´’s been one that has left my nerves frazzled and one fuelled mostly by adrenaline, sugar, and whatever other chemicals they put in Mexican Coca Cola. However I´ve come to trust that any bad day on a bike trip always seems to deliver a surprising turn of events at the end.  Sure enough, right on cue our last minute couchsurfing host has driven 30 miles to meets us and deliver us to her family’s home, complete with a freshly prepared private bedroom with two beds, a bathroom, and lots of smiling aunties and cousins everywhere.

Going back in time a week takes us to Guanajuato, and a day off enjoying the gorgeous Spanish colonial city, resplendent in the long awaited sunshine and begging a few more days to be explored properly.

Guanajuato

 I swear to Matt that I have been here before on a backpacking trip 8 years ago, but as I wander the cobbled streets waiting for a memory to be triggered I am left wanting, and worrying a little about the Mullee-family memory genes that seem to have been passed down to me!  Highlights of the day include a trip up the funicular to look out at the ring of mountains that await us the next day, a visit to the Deigo Revera museum showcasing lots of local artists as well as the famous Guanajuatoan´s work, and having my first proper coffee in a week.

Guanajuato

Guanajuato

 Fully recovered from whatever had struck me down the previous day, we finished the day with a trip to the cinema to see the only film showing in English (Good People – which wasn´t quite as awful as the 1 star film reviews suggested) accompanied by dirty cinema nachos and some orange sauce that had some relation to cheese.  Cinema food is the same the world over.

After a few days of grim riding on the main highways we’d decided to look for alternative routes along back roads.  This would mean sacrificing the hard shoulders and flatter, more direct routes, for a chance to get some peace and quiet and hopefully a glimpse of the Central Highland scenery away from the huge autopistas slicing through it.  Things got off to a good start with a relatively smooth exit from Guanajuato and a turn on to a narrow but quiet road that would cut across the intervening hills to San Miguel de Allende.  We hadn’t quite been ready for the gutsy overtaking moves that the locals would take on these speedy roads and just as I was getting into my “Spanish for Dummies” podcast, I looked up to see Matt`s backwheel rapidly approaching my front one having slammed on his breaks to duck out from an overtaking car heading straight for him.  I skidded into the back, spilled myself allover the road under my bent bike, and closed my eyes to wait for the smash of a following car.  Thankfully none came, and the traffic dispersed and I hopped to the side of the road not being able to put any weight on my left leg of to move my right arm.  Oh dear.

Thankfully, feeling slowly came back into both limbs and once the shock had passed it was a case of getting back in the saddle, counting my blessings and waiting for the bruises to appear.  Which they did!!

Post collision bruises

Adrenaline fuelled me up the next few hills, and it wasn’t long before I was back to being pleased with our decision to take the back roads.  Despite the long slog uphill and the continuing headwind, the sun bleached scenery was beautiful and rarely disrupted by any other vehicles, and I could finally get my handlebar bag ghetto blaster up and running again.  

Climbing from Guanajuato to San Miguelle

We stopped for a break at the top  of the hill (my new go-to cycling lunch of Avocado and chilli crisp sandwiches making it’s first of many appearances) before a long fun descent into San Miguelle de Allende.  Cruising downhill in the sunshine with tunes blasting was a great moment and a reminder why I love this cycling lark.

Back roads to San Miguell

San Miguell, another pretty Spanish Colonial town (this time with added American ex-pat contingent) saw us looking up a Warm Showers hosts, David and John, who have set up a perfect mini inner city campsite where we stayed for a couple of nights along with a German couple who were 2 years into a round the world (and back again) trip.  

Our lovely little warmshowers campsite in San Miguell

Lazing in the sun for an hour before it set was the perfect end to the day.  We were in for a shock that night though as the temperature plummeted and settled somewhere just above zero, leaving us all shivering in our inadequate sleeping bags.  One thing I hadn´t been prepared for on this trip is just how damn cold it gets at night! Being at around 2000 meters altitude (and climbing…) it can be hovering in the high twenties for most of the day but as soon as the sun starts to set at around 6pm, its on with the thermals and the puffa jackets.  Not quite the al fresco margherita drinking evenings I had had in mind!

 We had another day off in San Miguel which I spent in at the unexpectedly gorgeous Charco del Ingenio botanical gardens, set at the top of a big hill overlooking the city and on the ridge of a canyon and reserviour.  I spent over two wonderfully peaceful hours wandering along the cactus lined paths and along the canyon, listening to nothing but the sounds of the birds living in the wetlands around the lake-like reserviour and my feet crunching in the gravel.  Heaven.

Charco del Ingenio canyon outside San Miguell

San Miguell is known for it’s arts scene, since the post war 1940’s has drawn people to the town looking for a new life.  Nowadays those are mostly American retirees, but back in the day it was mostly folks drawn by the reputation of the newly formed arts school and as a way to spend make their GI subsidies recieved from participation in WWII stretch a long way.  Free-to-visit art galleries and museums are everywhere in the city, and on my way back to camp I stumbled on the Escuela de Bellas Artes, a cultural center in San Miguel de Allende with dozens of exhibition rooms, including one housing an unfinished mural by one of the “big three” Mexican artists David Alfaro Siqueiros.

Sequiris mural and roaring child in San Miguell

 Siqueros died before completing the commission.  I found the mural itself a bit overpowering (not to mention phalic!) but the amazing thing about the room were the acoustics, and I got an art history lesson from a visiting mother whilst her son made is weekly visit to test out the best animal noises that could be made in the echoing chamber.  Winner of the day was Angry Lion #4

The next 4 days of riding continued our mission to get off the beaten track, and a grogeous ride through vast expanses of agricultural land took us to the ridiculously hard to pronounce Tequisquiapan.

Cruising along the quite backroads from San Miguell

 The nice thing about our new route planning is that we are now staying in places off the tourist trail which is giving us a new glimpse of modern Mexican life.  Seeing Tequisquiapan as just another insignificant dot on the map, we were surprised to arrive in another picturesque colonical city, with mansions lining the suburb streets, and the historic centre full of classy restaurants, health shops and boutique hotels.  A bit of research told us this was a weekend getaway for the Mexico city rich, and (wanting to blend in of course!) we splurged on an expensive steak on a terrace overlooking the plaza, watching the people and a huge thunderstrom roll in over the horizon and backlighting the grand church with lightening srikes.

Gorgeous plaza in swanky Tequisquiapan

An early start the next day saw us set out in dense fog, but as soon as we left the town boundaries it dissolved in the morning sun and turned into one of the best days riding I’ve had.  Bound for the similarly tongue-tying Ixmiquilpan, we cut up and over a couple of big hill ranges, and through sierra landscapes along empty winding roads which gave views all around.

Fog lifting from the hills aroumd Tesquiquapan

Climbing over the sierras from Tesquiquapan

Tough climbs were quickly rewarded with soaring downhills (including a new entry to my top 5), and we ended the day in great spirits in a dirt cheap motel, and with a plate full of roadside tacos and 30p beers. Matt set a new record of 7 tacos. I was just behind on 5.

Roadside tacos. Matt polished off another 3 after these

 Earlier in the day my spanish had failed me when I tried to buy 5 oranges from a farmer on the side of the road, but ended up with 5 kilos which I was too embarrased to try to swap (seeing as the 5kgs cost 30p!). I wobbled along with for a bit, then did my best to distribute among the staff off a local hotel that let us use their loos.  Matt’s Spanish is good having lived in Spain for 2 years, and it’s great that he is able to have conversations with people we meet,  Though I can vaguely follow most of what is said I struggle to speak myself and definitely feel like I’m missing out somewhat on the interactions with locals.   New resolution for the day – one hour of studying every night!

True to my resolution, the next day I rode along practicing the 60 verbs I’d learnt the night before, conjugating myself merrily along to distract me from the 700 meters of climbing we needed to do that day to reach Pachuca at a breath sapping elevation of 2450 metres.   It was a day notable for lots of vicious dogs taking up chase along the way, even more dogs as roadkill by the side of the road, and on a more positive note, some more interetsing culinary experiences. I had my first ever tamales for breakfast in what can only be described as a roadside beach shack (a bit strange in a chilly 6 degree morning), and a little further down the road on a water break, we were given freshly made, hot from the grill tortillas by a smiling mother and daughter who were churning out dozens of tortillas per minute in an obvioulsy well oiled process.  

Tamale breafast - kind of like spicy couscous with meat, steamed in corn leaves

The 2 woman tortilla factory - smelt amazing and the free samples were amazing

We also started to notice the roadside eateries switching from the usual Taco stands, to shops advertising “pastes” for sale.  When Matt pulled up later with what can only be described as 2 cornish pasties, it felt like being back in England!

"Pastes" signs abound at the side of the road

Mexican pasty!

 We learnt later that day from our couchsurfing host Ricardo in Pachuca, that this small area of Mexico had once been an English and our lasting legacy was the introduction of pasties to the area.  Well, pasties and The Beatles apparently.

That brings us back to today and one of the most stressful days of riding I’ve had. It started with a hellish big-city exit from Pachuca along shoulderless 8 lane highway, with the odd vicious dog thrown in for good measure.  In an attempt to escape we took a long detour via a road that would take us over the hills rather than around them, which turned out to be a road up to a mine in the mountains, resulting in a regular procession of 10 tonne dump trucks groaning past us at hairs breaths distances.  

Our competition on the roads through the mining hills

The road disintegrated on the downhill to a gravel track which eventually dumped us back on the main highway an hour later, and only 7 miles further down the road.  

A few miles of decent shoulder and a lunch stop with the hilarious Hugo (I can’t actually remember his name, but he looks like a Hugo!) brought our spirits up, serving us all sorts of delights from his little kitchen.

Me and "Hugo"

The security guard armed with a pump action shot gun who asked asked for his photo with us (minus shotgun) also made us chuckle! Apparantly he thought he had see us on TV and eyeing his gun, we didn’t do anything to disuade him!

Matt with shotgun man over his shoulder

Us and shotgun man (minus shotgun)

The nerves were soon tested again as the shoulder dissapeared for the last 20 miles leaving us exposed on a high speed road.  Thankfully the roads were fairly quiet, smooth and flat, and the adreniline kicked in meaning I sped through the miles in just over an hour, constantly looking behind ready to bail out onto the grass verges if an approaching truck looked like he was going to try and sneak past doubled up.  Matt wasn’t so lucky and took a spill on the highway, but we arrived in one piece at Teotihuacan, home of the incredible pyramids and our gateway to Mexico city.

Entering Mexico City state

 Our couchsurfing host Larissa met us and took us to her family home where they went out of their way to make up a room for us and make us feel welcome. An amazing end to a difficult day, and definitely a milestone on the trip.  Next stop….Mexico city (without the bikes!) for a couple of days then it´s time for the next leg to Cancun.

Posing with the Pyramid of the Moon

Teotihuacan pyramids

More pyramids 🙂

Week One: Here we go again (Charlotte)

I land in Cancun after an 11 hour flight from Manchester. Surrounded by families and groups of friends off for their 2 weeks of fun in the sun, many thoughts go through my head as I navigate the painful 3 hour exit from the airport,

Why am I back in Mexico!? Why am I hauling my 35kg bike box past crowds of jet lagged tourists who are looking at me like I am a circus freak? Why am I here on New Years Eve…the midnight gong about to strike in the UK, whilst I have gone back in time 7 hours and have another flight to catch and a race against the clock to see in the Mexican 2015 with a bang?

Well, why not eh?  Blame it on Matt Hopkins, the tramp/bear lookalike we cycled with for a few days back in Alaska who happened to be hitting the point that we ended our last trip, just as I was in search of a final adventure to see out my year off.  And so it was…a last minute plan to get back on the bike for a few more thousand miles, and finish off the cycle through the rest of Mexico.   3 months on since finishing up in the Baja in September, via a brief stopover in Vegas, a couple of months hiking in Nepal and a few lovely weeks at home in London, I´m back in Mexico and joining Matt for 4 weeks of his trip, starting in Guadalajara and finishing up about 1400 miles later back in Cancun at the Southern tip of the mainland. So it seems only right to carry on the blog!

I arrived in Guadalajara to be met by Mat at the airport,  just in time to dump Doris and my stuff at my first Warmshowers host and make it out to a bar in time for midnight. A couple of margeritas later, we were wearing party hats and seeing in 2015 by popping 12 grapes to mark the 12 dongs of midnight. Apparently a Mexican custom for New Years!

My home for the night was the floor of Casa Ciclista, an inspiring bike shop cooperative in the centre of the city where people are encouraged to fix their own bikes using the tools and knowledge of the co-op. It also doubles as a temporary home for dozens of vagabond cyclists who pass through every year, and it was the perfect place to get ready for the trip. 

We spent New Years Day putting my bike back together, and fixing some of the casualties from the journey. First was an inner tube that had exploded when I was wheeling out of the airport (sounding like a gunshot and triggering a bit of a security scare in Cancun), then trueing the wheel that got bashed ouy of shape.  Once Doris was back in one piece, Matt and I recruited Dane – our roomate at Casa Ciclista for a wanderaround a ghost-like Guadalaja which was mostly shut up for Feliz Años Neuvo. The highlight was finding an incredible 3 storey market crammed with food stalls, which contributed to our rampage of sampling as much mexican street food as we could get our hands on.  Grilled Shrimp skewers, roasted beetles (yep…), labios and cabaze tacos (pigs lips and head!), fresh sugar cane and to top it all off…a grilled pork sandwhich the size of a large mans head. All seasoned with the mexican staples of chilli, salt and lime.The boys wolfed theirs down guilt free on the back of 3000+ miles of cycling whilst I convinced myself it would all be getting worked off soon enough!

The next day it was time to get on the road. We recruited Dane to join us for a few days and set off as a trio to leave Guadalajara for Lake Chapala 30 miles south. As Mexico’s 2nd largest city I expected the roads out to be a nightmare, but was pleasantly surpirsed by the number of bike routes that weave across the city centre, either with priority over traffic or seperate from the road. Another lesson for the UK!

Things got a bit nastier as we hit the ring road of the city, and a few miles of cycling along a hectic motorway roads without shoulders, and trucks and buses pulling in all over the place certainly got the adrenaline flowing! Eventually things calmed down and we rode along a good hard shoulder, up my first big hill which left me reeling from the mere 20 miles on the bike I´d done in the last 3 months, and finally coasting down to be greeted by beautiful Lake Chapala shimmering in the afternoom sun.

A weekend getaway for the city folk up up in Guadalajara, familes strolled the malecon drinking huge styrofone cups of micheladas – a mix of beer, tomato joice, chilli powder, lime and….prawns!

There is also apparantly an ex-pat enclave a feq miles up the lake where american retirees like to settle. One of these greeted us as we rolled into town, suggesting it was because the lake had the “best weather in the world”, but the group of 70-somethings we encountered later that night in a bar dancing to the YMCA after a few too many margeritas made me think it might be the cheap booze that’s the attraction!

The three of us toasted the day with a drink and tacos by the lake and Dane took on some of the local kids in a game of fussball.

After trawling the town trying and failing to find a free place to camp we checked in to a cheap hotel for the night and continued the consumption of any street food we could find.  Best of the night was a lady making pancakes, who for 10 pesos would make them in any shape you liked.  We set her the challenge of a bike and a fish and weren´t disappointed!

 

We had made a decision to cycle along the shore of the lake as much as we could, and accept the fact that we would probably need to push our bikes at some point when the road on google maps seemed to disintegrate and we needed to get back on the otherside of the hills we had come over on the way to Chapala.  The ride by the lake was beautiful, and after 15 miles of so of good road we continued another 5 miles through little villages along cobbled tracks feeling like celebrities as everyone did a double take and shouted hello as we rolled through.

Having Matt on a recumbent is a particularly strange sight for the locals, especially the kids, and its a great ice breaker as people look at his bike and try to figure out how the hell to ride it.

Soon the cobbled streets disintegrated and started to wind up into the hill in to steep switchbacks.  Dane managed the first switchback but Matt and I bailed straighaway and began an exhausting hour of pushing our loaded bikes up hill much to the amusement of the cars coming in the other direction.

It was all worthwile though for the ride by the lake, and even more so for the great downhill that took us into Poncitlan and back on the highway towards Ocotlan where a surprising stretch of bike lanes greeted us.

As we curved back towards the lake, we stopped for a late lunch at a lakeside restaurant to refuel after the tough morning.

After spotting a gorgeous patch of grass in front of the restaurant looking out to the lake, I decided we should try our look at asking if we could camp there that night.  The boys summoned the owner for a man to man conversation (Mexican style) who didn`t hesitate in saying yes, and a few hours later, bellies full of good grub and cold beer we were pitching up camp and watching the sunset over Lake Chapala.  Great day!

The next couple of days were fairly dull riding along busy highways, but punctuated by some memorable evening stopovers. Firstly, we made it to Degollado – a place off the main routes to anywhere but where both Dane and Matt had contacts that had promised us beds for the night.  Sadly we couldn´t get hold of either of them when we arrived and after again trying our luck around the town for a place to camp (churches, police stations and fire stations are our go-to places!) we hit another cheap hotel.  Straight away Degollado was a smiling and welcoming town, with people interested in helping and speaking to us.  In the evening, the main plaza, the place in every small town which holds the church and the nightly festivities, was buzzing with food stalls, a mariachi band on the bandstand, and a market selling all kinds of kids toys.  The Mexicans don´t celebrate Christmas on the 25th with gifts, but instead on the 12th Day of Christmas when the 3 kings are said to come and bring gifts to the children.  With “el dia del Reyes” only a couple of days away, it was prime gift buying time and the square was busy with people buying last minute toys.

We did our usual circuit of eating (tonight, chorros, tortas, maize asada) and got talking to a Romero, a local guy who had moved with to Northern California to raise his family and came back 2 or 3 times a year to Degollado to visit.  In a very “it´s a small world after all¨ moment, we quickly worked out that Romero was the cousin of one of the guys we were looking for in town and that he was one of the people he was visiting.   AND….that Romero and his family lived a few miles from Danes family in Oregon.  AND….that Dane had been to this guys shop in Northern California.  AND…that he and Dane had  numerous mutual family acquaintances back at home.  Of all the people, in all the towns, in all the world….a great co-oincidence and another charming feature of this cute little town.

The next day we left Dane in Degollado to look up Romeros cousin and headed in the direction of Guanajuato, 2 days riding away.  They were both hellish days of riding in the cold, with a relentless headwind and trucks zooming past us on the main highways.  We had a wide hard shoulder to ourselves but it was noisy, dirty and no fun in the cloudy weather.   I did, however, stumble on my idea of heaven on earth.  A huge, camp, Correlejos tequilla “mansion”, built in 2011 in a bizzarre uber-grand colonial/morroccon/french vineyard style., emerged from nowhere on the right of the road.

According to the plaques on the wall the extravagent building was constructed simply built to hold the barrels of the company´s “90’009 horas” tequilla whilst it ages.  It was a hilarious and much needed pick me up for the day, and I pulled off the road to the grand entrance, only to be plastered with a visitors badge and ushered inside.

We wandered around unaccompanied and then hit the samples bar for a taste of their reposado, coffee and chocolate tequilas. Yum! Fuelled by one two many free tasters, I mustered up the courage to ask if we could camp there that night. A quick confer with the don of the mansion and we were given permission to set up behind the building with our own personal 24 hour security guard, and we spent the night under the pavillion, much to the bemusement of the construction workers who clocked off at 6.

We nipped to a local village for some dinner and after being plied with free cakes by the cafe owner – “que aventura amiga!” – we returned for a good nights sleep, and I resisted temptation to break into the sampling bar for some more chocolate tequilla.

I woke up feeling a bit queasy and by 40 miles was exhausted, feverish and aching all over. No way I was going to make it to Guanajuato, so Matt played the hero card and found us a man with a van to take us the last 20 miles. One eyed Pedro swerved his way into town and deposited us in the centre where we checked in to a hotel and I slept for 18 hours. Having flashbacks to my last serious bout of food poisoning on a backpacking trip in Mexico I was relieved to wake up feeling better and ready to enjoy a rest day in beautiful Guanajuato. Sadly I slept through the “el dia del Reyes” celebrations that were going on outside the window, but that was a small price to pay for a quick recovery!