Tuesday 12/18/07 Tapachula, Mexico
Above: Bright colors in Tonala, Mexico. I know, it’s not Tapachula, but it’ll have to do–I can’t upload pics in this internet cafe for some reason.
Because today was a fairly typical cycling day for me, I thought it would be good to describe the day’s routine, one that is representative of the types of things I usually do each day I’m on the bike.
6:30 a.m. Wake up. Go to the bathroom. Break down the camp spot. Debate jumping in the river next to my camp site for one last dip before I go but decide against it. A bit too chilly.
7:00 a.m. Eat breakfast. Three banana and peanut sandwiches on whole wheat bread. Brush teeth. Stretch legs. Put on sun tan lotion.
7:30 a.m. Roll away from the camp site. Stop at the store a half mile up the road, the store I stopped at yesterday, to buy two new bottles of water because the ones I have have become gross from overuse. The shop owner is surprised to see me again and asks where I slept last night. I tell her I slept next to the river. She rolls her eyes—there are snakes down there, she says. She tells me I’m crazy. I laugh, tell her I didn’t see any snakes, buy two 1.5 L bottles of water for $2, and leave.
8:30 a.m. After doing 12 miles, I stop at a gas station to get out of the sun for a bit. I refill one of my 1.5 L water bottles because it’s almost empty. Usually I don’t drink so much so quickly, but today is hot and humid. When I look in the mirror in the gas station bathroom, I’m shocked to see the dirty, scraggly face staring back at me. I decide I need to trim up the beard to make myself look less threatening. I shave.
8:50 a.m. Roll away from the gas station.
10:00 a.m. After doing about 14 miles or so, I spot a river that is too deep and too blue to pass up. I lock the bike to the guardrail by the side of the road, bring my handlebar bag (has important stuff in it) down to the river, and swim for 15 minutes. River is deep enough to do flips underwater. I love doing flips underwater. Flip myself hungry. Make and eat two banana and peanut sandwiches.
11:45 a.m. After doing about 24 miles, I pass through a small city with 30,000 inhabitants. Low on bananas and ready for lunch, I start making my way to the town center. Spot an auto dealership that could be leaking a wi-fi signal. Stop the bike. Take out the little wi-fi locator and see that, yep, it has an unencrypted signal. As I do this, three or four guys sitting and drinking sodas at little benches on the sidewalk say hello. I sit down with them and get out of the sun. The teenager who manages the nearby drink stand, Andres, knows a little English and I start to tell him and the other guys about my trip. Andres wants to know if New York City is as beautiful as it’s portrayed in the movies. The other guys, all in their forties, want to know about some of the logistical details of the trip.
12:15 p.m. Say good-bye to Andres and the guys and head toward the town center. Buy bananas and a packet of fried tortillas at the supermarket. $0.65. Go to a bakery. Buy a bag of four or five pastries. $1. See a street vendor selling large mandarin oranges. Buy one pound of mandarins. $0.50.
12:45 p.m. Find the town plaza and sit down to eat. Within five minutes, 10 men are standing around the bike asking me questions. All I want to do is eat, but I hold off so I can speak with them. Like the men drinking sodas earlier, these men are most curious about the logistical details of the trip. How far I ride each day, how long it took me to get to their town from New York. As time passes, some men leave, others arrive. Many people at different times ask me how much I paid for my bike. I never give an answer in dollars because it would instantly distance me from the people around me and possibly turn me into a target for theft. I instead say it was my friend’s old bike and I traded him two weeks of work for it. Got this idea from another cyclist’s blog and so far, this answer has been working perfectly. Two guys selling lollipops and candy spot the crowd of men around me and come over to try to sell stuff to the bystanders.
1:45 p.m. I finish most of my food and tell the crowd I have to be pushing on. They all wish me a good trip and shake their heads in disbelief with mouths agape as I roll away.
2:15 p.m. Still a bit hungry as I leave town, I stop briefly at a gas station and eat another banana and peanut sandwich and some more fried tortillas. Fill my other 1.5 L water bottle which is now empty. Both refills today were from gas station water taps. I add eight drops of iodine to each bottle and let it sit for 30 minutes before drinking.
4:15 p.m. After about 20 miles over hilly terrain, I hear a sudden thumping. Look back and see the trailer tire is flat. My third puncture of the trip (had two in Texas—one on the back wheel of the bike, one on the trailer wheel). Curse the debris-filled shoulders that gave me a flat and start getting out my tools to fix it. As I’m fixing it, a man approaches and offers to help hold the bike. We chat as I fix the tire. He’s amazed that my tire pump fits in my bag—the only kind he has ever seen before is the kind that you put on the ground and stand on as you pump. Before I roll away, I ask if there’s a river close by that’s good for swimming. He says yes, only one or two kilometers up the road.
4:20 p.m. Pass the river the man mentioned. Nothing more than a stagnant stream. Keep riding.
5:00 p.m. After doing another five or six miles, I can’t seem to find any good swimming rivers or secluded camp spots. I’m drenched in sweat and am dying for a cold dip. I end up reaching the large city I was hoping to reach tomorrow, Tapachula. Camp spots are hard to find in cities. Uggh. Stop to fill my 10 L water bag as it looks like no river swim is in the cards and chat with the woman who lets me use her tap. She doesn’t know of any good camp spots nearby.
5:30 p.m. As the sun sinks quickly in the sky, I decide to ride back out of the city proper to look for a spot. I start to worry I won’t find anything in time and will have to end up camping in some lousy spot with no time for a shower.
6:00 p.m. Just as the sun is almost touching the horizon, I follow a dirt road a few hundred yards in from the highway. I stop at a barb wire gate and ask a woman cleaning clothes if I’d be able to set up camp in the field next to her property. She says she’ll get the jefe and I can ask him. Ten minutes later, a man wearing riding boots and a length of rope around his chest like a sash rides up to the gate with confidence. He says hello. I give him my spiel and ask if I can camp. He asks me why I don’t just head to the town plaza and try to sleep there. I tell him that places with less people are generally safer. I tell him I’m from the U.S. He starts asking me questions about New York City. During a pause in conversation, he looks out to the horizon and decides whether or not he’ll let me camp on his property. A long minute passes. He smiles and invites me onto his ranch, opens the barb wire gate, and shows me to a part of the ranch that is no longer in use, one that will be most tranquillo for me. I thank him a million times. He wishes me goodnight, tells me his name is Cesar, and rides off.
6:20 p.m. The sun fades away as I put up my tent, take a shower using my 10 L water bag, and eat one last banana and peanut sandwich and the last of my fried tortillas. I usually try to have a big dinner or a big lunch at a small restaurant each afternoon, but didn’t get to it today.
6:45 Write up this entry in my tent. Asleep by 8:15.
Miles for the day: 77
Money spent: $4.15
Posted in Bike trip: Mexico
