Surviving the wildlife/wild life

In the last couple of weeks since my last e-mail we have managed to wander around a lot of Costa Rica. Three good friends from Colorado came down to meet up with us. We all joined forces in Alajuela, an extension of San Jose near the airport, rented a car, and took off the next morning bound for the Arenal area. We resigned to a more 'normal' method of travel-essentially a vacation from biking. Near the small town of La Fortuna we stayed in some jungle treehouses and saw many beautiful birds feeding on bananas in the mornings. I haven't had a chance to look up and indentify the birds yet but one is a Bobo-a fairly large brightly colored (see pics) bird. The large protected property of the tree houses is home to many amazing creatures-at any given time one could hear howler monkies in the distance and spy on sloths, toucans, what seemed like hundreds of different species of butterflies, hummingbirds, frogs, and a plethera of the weirdest insects.
We filled three days with wandering around seeing some of the natural sights. We hiked around the base of Volcan Arenal, the closest you can get to the volcano, where we found a good vantage point to view the active volcano from the top of a fresh (in geological time) lava flow which formed in 1993. Explosions were heard coming from the nearly constant veil of gaseous clouds that pour from the top and we watched large rocks tumble down the scree filled slopes with loud crashes. It was an amazingly humbling experience to watch the effortless power of the earth as it re-created more of itself. The rocks firing outof the hidden crater are the youngest rocks one willever see-making the transition from liquid lava to solid minerals in mid-air.
La Fortuna offers a ton of activities for vacationers and travellers but it is all a little too touristy and expensive for my tastes (although a wonderful experience). We hiked to La Fortuna waterfall and swam in the cold Talapia infested waters. To top off our stay in the area we took advantage of the abundant geothermal activity and soaked at Baldi Hot Springs-sixteen pools of paradise.
We headed back towards the Nicoya peninsula and surfed at Playa Buena Vista, just north of Samara (where I saw a Panther while biking by myself early inthe morning). We then began our southward travel along the central coast to Jaco, Manuel Antonio, and eventually Dominical.
Jaco is a very 'gringofied' town full of ex-patriots and folks who claim they 'live' here. We made Jaco home base for a few days while we surfed just south at Playa Hermosa-well known in the surfingworld.
Next stop was Manuel Antonio. Manuel Antonio is quickly becoming a resort destination as a result of vigorous advertising efforts-for obvious reasons.These were some of the most beautiful beaches I have seen in Costa Rica, or anywhere for that matter. Good things were heard about the National Park here so we parted with seven bucks apiece to be one of the eight-hundred visitors permitted into the park each day. In short, well worth the money. White-facedCapuchin monkies were everywhere scurrying in between peoples feet alongside Kotomundis digging around in the leaf litter for tasty insects. Sloths creeped along overhead in contrast to the abundant populationof fast moving Iguanas. The Costa Rican powers at be seem to be doing an acceptable job of maintaining abalance between preserving the virginity of the natural wonders and boosting their economy with tourism but as one can't help but notice, issues like waste disposal (both municipal waste and black water management) need to be addressed and monitored if near pristine areas are meant to be kept unspoiled. I worryabout the future of one of a kind areas like these in Costa Rica.
Dominical was our last destination on our two week run around. Dominical is a simple little village with the majority of it's economy based on surfers. Dominical is known to have very consistent 12-20 foot waves during the winter months. Although that would be great fun to watch, we were more than happy surfing on mellower head high waves and did so for a couple days. On our second day of surfing we were blessed by a cloudy sky and tropical rains during the second half of the day. It is something else to be sitting on a surfboard out past the break and appreciating the emerald green forested mountains in the near distance. It is equally rewarding dropping in on a head high,turqoise blue wave of perfection.
Today we are in Alajuela getting everything readyto bike out of here tomorrow while the rain is pounding down. Instead of dealing with the narrow, crowded Interamericana highway, we will head north-east to the carribean coast and cross the border near the Panamanian archipelago of Boca del Torro. Hope this e-mail finds everyone with smiles and fullbellies. Asta luego-jeremie
new pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/f317/zeeko1
old pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0/

The Rich Coast

To get to where we needed to be by the time we needed to be there, Justin and I did the damn bust hing again-in short, a headache. We skipped riding through El Salvador which, by the looks of the exceedingly flat roads, would have been some of the easiest riding yet. We did stay in San Salvador for a night and managed to join forces with some more infamous Canadian tree planters and we checked out the town-shady town, bad music, crack heads, we left.
Nicaragua was a nice contrast to our experience in El Salvador. It is a beautiful country with plenty to do and see, outgoing people, and nice roads. The capital city of Managua was described to me as having a generally bad reputation but I found it quite the contrary. What little of the city that I saw was fairly clean compared to other portions of Central America and had a more modern feel. Being the poorest country in Central America, it did not show and people seemed in good spirits everywhere.
Our next stop was Granada, a small town on the shores of Lago de Nicaragua that sports the colonial architecture theme of southern Mexico and Guatemala. After hitting up the always busy bank to switch outsome currency (it's always fun to see your account balance in other currencies) and a nice long conversation with an overzealous local, we made our way to a hostel with a good reputation. If you find yourself in Granada, Nicaragua stay at the Oasis-very clean, a swimming pool, free internet, free stellar coffee all day, $6 a night.
The next day, we had planned on hopping a ferry out to Isla de Ocetepe but found that the ferry from Granada ran only twice a week and we were on the wrong day. We hightailed it to Rivas where we could catch the last ferry and with a killer headwind found ourselves at the dock with little time to spare. We jumped on the chaotic ferry and I stuffed my bike under a lorry, hoping that it's parking break was on.
We awoke early, ate two breakfasts, and decided we would rent a guide to drag us through the jungle and up Volcan de Concepcion. The trails are unmarked and there are many of them so, despite a blow to our
manly pride, a guide was absolutely essential. We wanted to scale the entire volcano but the top thirdwas buried in clouds and would have provided no view. Much to our amusement we walked no further than 2 kil0meters into the jungle and there were a bunch of howler monkies chowin down in a tree-pretty sweet, wish we had em' in Colorado. Our day consisted of hiking halfway up the volcano into some organic coffee and banana plantations, descending, and traversing the bottom of the volcano to a hill with 360 degree views for a stunning sunset over the lake. The hour long walk back to town was interesting considering that one of the two girls that were on the hike didn't have a light so me being my gentlemanly self, stumbled down the creek bed and through the jungle in the dark. We saw all sorts or butterflies, giant toads, leaf-cutter ants, funnel web spiders, monkies, parrots, etc. Wellworth it.
Back on the ferry and off towards the border. We were under the impression that there was a hotel in the town right before the border which we were banking on considering it was almost dark but in reality the town was on the other side of the border. We left the immigration office on the Nicaragua side where we had to pay for our exit stamps and, after dark, wandered through the dark streets to the Costa Rica side to obtain our entrance stamps. Kind of weird. The CostaRican immigration office had a line of about 60-70people and one guy behind the window. A money exchanger, who was also a police officer, led us beyond security to the front of the line for a few bucks-it would have taken hours otherwise. There was only one hospidaje in this town and it had no sign sowe wandered back and forth until we finally found it...famished of course.
After a morning shower with frogs firing out of the shower head, we battled a strong headwind all day and finally arrived in Liberia-a nice little town in the midst of surrounding farmland. We ate and ate and ate and blasted towards Tamarindo the next morning. Tamarindo was about 80 kilometers from Liberia which was going so well until we hit our friend mister headwind again. On top of that a good portion of the last half of the ride was unpaved with lots of traffic-I could just picture the puddle of mud in my lungs from sucking dust.
Ahhhhh, the beach, food, sleep, and a much needed treat of a six-pack, cheap beer never tasted so good. Justin's family showed up the next day and Justin, his sister Jaime, boyfriend Dennis, and myself rented some surfboards and paddled out to the mellow break. We had a great session that afternoon and following morning and I headed off solo down theNicoya peninsula.
The roads got nothing but worse. A half day from Tamarindo and another full one got me to Samara, not a minute too soon. I crossed at least 8 rivers and it took over 4 hours to ride 50 kilometers. By kilometer 15 I had my back wheel fall off, a flat tire, a sore butt, numb fingers, and various other items fall off my bike-including a pannier and water bottle. I doubt the ability of my biycle to make it too far on these roads and they apparently get worse. As much as I want to ride the coast road, I may be forced to search for some smoother sailing.
Costa Rica's beaches are quite beautiful and Iwill go explore the rest of the country over the next couple weeks. Hang in there, spring will be there before you know it or... fly here! Pura vida, jeremie
p.s.-due to my happy trigger finger, my picture site is full so I started another. Both links are below.
http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0/
http://photobucket.com/albums/f317/zeeko1/

The natural beauty of Guatemala

Guatemalan grutas

Instead of departing Xela immediately, as our plans originally called for, we decided on a little side excursion which went as follows...

We haggled our way into a cheap and beat Suzuki 4x4 that we thrashed on rough Guatemalan backroads for over 250 kilometers. Considering the road was poised on the edge of towering cliffs, I was surprised that it had been sufficiently rehabilitated since the recent hurricane. It was interesting to drive a vehicle through rural Guatemala as one must navigate around rocks, random farm animals, and elaborately airbrushed chicken busses careening out of control towards you while passing on blind curves. After ten hours at the wheel bouncing through breathtaking scenery we found the town of Coban. Not much to mention about Coban. By now it was dark and we were desperate to get to Lanquin where rumour had it there was a hostel worth staying at. In Coban we had finally hit a paved road but, to our dismay, we hit the dirt again. The last 11 kilometers of the road were unbelievably rough but we drove even faster by orders of captain stomach. We weren't quite sure what the deal was when we got to Lanquin-there were no lights at all but it appeared that we were in some sort of town. It is a small village waaaaay out in the jungle and we hardly had a clue where we were going. We finally pulled up to a small sign that read El Retiro-our sought after hostel. Quite dazed from a day of constant travel and no food, we spoke to a friendly fellow at the front gate and learned they had room for us and food was available. He had a dull flashlight that we stumbled after down the slippery rock walkway and finally spotted a candle lit palapa where about 20 people were standing in line...for food...a huge buffet. Don't get me wrong, I adore tacos but begin drooling when I replay that buffet in my mind: fresh spinach salad with all the fixins, hummus, delectable chicken, breaded eggplant, lentil salad, pasta pesto, garlic mashed potatoes, and so much more. A bottle of Chilean merlot and a plate of food stacked head high in frontof me and that feeling of thorough contentment sank in.
The next morning, we shot the breeze over breakfast with a guy from Israel who expressed interest in our plans for the day. We informed him that we had space in our motor car, he woke his wife,and we went bouncing down the road towards the pools at Semuc Champay (which means hidden deep beneath the rock in a native mayan tongue). We hiked way up on a jungle mountain for el mirador (which means-the lookout or observatory) and spotted the turquise pools far below us with tall limestone cliffs looming above. We continued down the other side of our mountain to the pools and were far from dissapointed. There is a fairly large river (over 1000 cfs for you boaters out there) that disappears into a cave for a half mile in the midst of a class 4+ rapid. The pools are located on top of the cave and are fed by a nearby spring. They cascade in beautiful waterfalls into the river on both sides of the cave. A couple of local guys our age showed us a sweet jump spot that requires one to scale a small limestone cliff out of the water and inch-worm out onto the branch of a tree which is 10 meters above the water-entertainment for all.
After lunch we found ourselves a local guide who grabbed a handful of candles and started leading us up a mountainside trail. Lit candle in hand and camera in pocket (thanks to pelican boxes) we ducked through the small swarm of bats and began our cave excursion. A combination of walking, one handed swimming (candle), and scaling ropes dangling in waterfalls led us about 2 kilometers into the mountain. The cave was first explored about two years ago and so far people have only gone about 5 kilometers into it and have found no exit. Our turn around point was simply determined by half spent candles. We emerged with perma-grin and hiked up higher on the mountain for another el mirador, thanked our guide (who, at any given point, has lit candles on his head and in his toes), and began our return trip to Quetzaltenango (el coche survived).
Meant to leave the day after our return, we were delayed by default (the hostel hadn't finished washing our dirty bike shirts-sucks for them) and joined forces with a few friends to scale nearby Volcan Santa Maria. I filled a stuff sack with water and raingear, tied it to my back with some webbing (I have no backpack), and we hopped a chicken bus to the trailhead.
When we reached the first cloud laden ridge, we found a bunch of guys enthusiastically involved in a game of high altitude futbol. We craned our necks to scope out our goal and began the very direct trail straight up the volcano. Unfortunately, it was a cloudy day and we saw absolutely nothing from the top, which on a clear day would provide 360 degree views. Some energy food (queso spread: i.e.-cheez whiz) and we trudged back down. From the lower elevations, one could see an obvious drawback of slash and burn farming where huge chunks of hillside were deposited in the valley below. Mass wasting and quickened erosion are found all over Guatemala and claim too many deaths every year, but...hey, population control comes in many forms (which is important in Guatemala considering over half of the population is under 15 years old-damn Catholisism).
We finally left Xela, for good, and are now in the town of Panajachel, Lago de Atitlan-nicknamed Gringotenango (tenango means 'city of')- quaint little town found on a big lake bordered by 3000+meter volcanoes. Hurricane damage was even more apparent here with bridges washed away, erosion underneath the roadway caused chunks of highway to plummet into valleys below, and large plots of steep mountainside cropland destroyed.
We will be through El Salvador, Honduras, andNicaragua real quick to begin our extended three week stay in Costa Rica (well, maybe a quick little volcano hike on Lago de Nicaragua). I hope and assume that everyone is embracing another year in the 21st century.
Adios, -jeremie
new pics: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0

Guatemala

Greetings from Guatemala

Happy Holidays to all-I hope ya'll are sharing some quality time with family and friends and manage to avoid those horrible egg nog and rum hangovers.
As travelling should and usually tends to be agreat learning experience, we have explored some of the two Mexicos. Northern, Southern, and one could almost drop Baja California into a third catagory. As personal preference has it, my future travels will be to Southern Mexico-especially Chiapas. We spent four days in the town of San Cristobal de las Casas where we wandered around through the markets: local sweets, artisans, and produce/meat/breads, hoofed it up many a step to a hilltop church where people were practicing the Brazilian dance/martial art known as capoeira, and shot the breeze with folks from all over the world. We met a guy from Switzerland (hi Gilbert) who travelled for awhile and in San Cristobal decided he was going to have a bike and trailer built and ride south, hopefully to Argentina. I commend his patience and immense effort it took him to deal with a local:welder, bike shop, and seamstress (custom dry bag for his trailer). He took an interesting route with his gear-the trailer (known as a BOB (beast of burden) trailer in the states) was quite big with a shock absorber , he chose a mountain bike with very wide tires (2.20) which will limit his speed severely (plus the chain smoking, no offense Gilbert), and he had an enormous tent that weighed about 15 lbs. and a guitar. I am sure everything will work out great for him, just slowly-I wish him many tail-winds.
We felt compelled to see some natural wonders and cultural heritage of the region so we pitched in and rented a 2001 VW super beetle ($19 a day)-the old style which was made to OEM specs until 2002, in Mexico only. Our jungle chariot was a blue beauty with the infamously shitty 1600cc air-cooled dune buggy motor and a four-speed stick. We decended into an extremely fertile river valley where one can find the Mayan ruins and current town of Pelenque. On the way we stopped to have a peek at the super gringo trap waterfall of Agua Azul. It is a tourist trap for good reason though-the water gains it's tropical bluish-green color from the limestone that it has cut it's way through and flows into and over the shallow pools that have been eroded out. Hiking a couple kilometers upstream through the jungle took us to some more secluded spots that were nice for swimming. We rallied on to the town of Pelenque where we crashed at our usual dive ofa hotel (but cheap). First thing the next morning, we downed a cup or two of Nescafe (it is preferred here for reasons beyond my comprehension) and headed to the ruins. It was dumping rain and I wouldn't have had it any other way. The ruins are found in an extremely lush rainforest setting with an amazingly beautifulj ungle creek running through the middle of the 15 square kilometer site. We donned our raincoats (thanks Patagonia) and started tromping through puddles and running up and down the temple steps. The very low-lying cloud cover and rain contributed to the mystical feeling of the place and made the bright green tropical foliage glisten. We found that our chaco sandals gripped the wet limestone of the creek bed very well and we went sloshing around in the creek and climbing up the waterfalls-quite fun. We looked and listened intently for the howler monkies (I'm kind of partial to monkies) sometimes spotted and/or heard in the area. We found no sign of them but did see a spider which almost made me scream like a little girl (I'm not partial to arachnids). I'm not sure what kind ofspider it was but it was missing three legs from vicious battles and was easily as big as my hand and very, very evil.
After we spent a few hours exploring the marvels of Peleque, we started heading back up the mountain and stopped at another waterfall called Misol-Ha falls. This was the waterfall featured in the Schwartzenegger movie Predator. Another gringo trap but had a neat walkway that went behind the falls where the mist soaked the unafraid. Justin and I went wandering through the jungle trying to find a way to the top of the falls but gave up after trudging up a slippery, muddy hillside...but, we DID hear some monkies and saw the web of a funnel web spider. We had a sluggish ride with the pedal-to-the-metal back up the mountain to San Cristobal and got packed to leave the next morning.
It took us two days of riding to get to theGuatemala border, finally! There is a four kilometer neutral zone between the Mexico-Guatemala border so we stopped to get an exit stamp at the Mexican border for our passports and rode to the crazy mountain-side town at the Guatemalan border. Here we were horded by the street hustling money exchangers who offer the ignorant a 6.5% exchange rate when the ATM will give one the best rate going, about 7.5%. It was later in the day and areas near the border are quite sketchy so we rode a few more kilometers into the next town and found a cheap hotel. A previous guest had carved '100% El Salvador' into the concrete wall, we didn't understand the meaning behind it but found it quite funny anyway. Four daysof continous uphill riding ensued which just happened to leave us with this funny sore feeling in our legs. Riding 90 kilometers a day of varied terrain is one thing but a full day of uphill really sucks the juice out of you-we stopped more often than usual to stuff our faces with cookies, peanuts, and an occasional soda for extra sugar.
We arrived in a town called something like Quetzaltenenango-but most refer to it as Xela(pronounced Shayla) on Christmas Eve. After finding a hostel with room for us we spotted an Aussie we met in San Cristobal who led us to the nearest pizza joint straight away. I downed a pizza and a half and some of the worst beer I have ever had. We decided to make up for the crappy beer by tracking down a liquor store and picking up a bottle of whiskey, merry christmas to us!
I had noticed that there were a lot of street vendors selling fireworks but wasn't sure why...until midnight rolled around. I thought I have seen some pretty sweet fireworks displays in my day but what happened in this town at 12 was amazing. Promptly at 12, everyone in town must have had a lighter in each hand because the sky and nearby mountains were alite with the glow of a million fireworks. For an hour it hardly let up and huge plumes of sulphur laden smoke burned the eyes, blocked all views, and surely scorched a nice hole in the ozone above us. This will be the closest I ever get to a war zone (I hope). One can walk down the street and buy all sorts of fireworks that are very illegal in the US. Firecrackers that look like half sticks of dynamite. Someone at the hostel lit one on a concrete table and a chunk is now missing. I can't imagine how many children lost fingers, eyes, and various other appendages last night.
The entire country of Peru recently declared a state of emergency, a situation which may cause problems for us. A group called the Shining Path defends the non-existent rights of coca growers (Peru is the second largest producer of cocaine) but claims to provide no defense to drug trafficers...hmmm. Apparently there have been attacks against government officials and a number of police have been murdered just north of Lima in the jungle-right where we are headed. Our plans may change.
One more day here and Justin and I hightail it to Costa Rica where Justin's parents come to visit on Jan. 11th.
Well, on the bright side it is Christmas and in the true spirit I will search out a meal that will hurt me. Happy Holidays to all-salud!
-jeremie
New pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0

Into the Isthmus

Holy hellfire, it's hot! Apparently that's what happens when you head towards the equator-even in winter.Hello to all the people I just added to my growing list, I hope everyone is well and nobody is easily offended.
The other half of the J4 bike squad finally returned from conquering mountains and we packed up and split. Oaxaca treated us well and we will never say bad things about the place-except you could easily get fat on the top-notch cuisine. The first day of riding led us down past the biggest tree (in circumference) in the world-a cypress 58 meters in circumference and over 2000 years old. Yes, it was very big. We continued down the valley and past the Mayan ruins of Mitla, which we did not venture to see considering is was quite a few kilometers off of our path up a gargantuan mountain (a drawback of travelling by bicycle). The second half of our 100 klick day brought us deeper into the mountains and into mezcal and tequila country. There were numerous roadside 'manufacturers' of mezcal which sometimes consisted of a large round trough full of agave or maguey pulp being mashed by a huge stone carved like a wheel being powered by a horse. Small plots of agave dot the steep hillsides and one can only wonder how intensive it must be to collect it all-considering it takes over 7 years for an agave to mature to a useful size, the cactus gardens are visited infrequently. We started one of many a long climb where we found an unceremonious spot to camp on the side of the mountain in the midst of many cacti and generally unfriendly,thorny, Pachute trees. We awoke early and continued up the mountain that we had started the day before, and surprisingly , without any flat tires. We were riding a road that ran perpendicular to the drainages so we were constantly climbing hills and dropping back into valleys. We stopped in a small village at the bottom of one such mountain to look for a place to camp. A man directed us to a nearby abandoned building with multiple rooms, one of which was fairly clean and would suffice for our needs-it even had a door we could shut. We slept well on the concrete floor but were awakened at 4 am by fireworks. In small towns like this one, word of our arrival gets around very quickly, especially if we are camping, and we just assumed the local kids were playing a prank on us. These were not normal fireworks though, they were extremely loud concussive bottlerockets that shook the ground-or concrete bunker if you happen to be in one. A few went off and we thought the joke to be over and went back to sleep. A half hour later the reason for the wake-up was revealed when a live band kicked off it's first set of Mexican polka also known as bando. There was absolutely nothing to do but laugh heartily-this was Monday morning! They sounded like professional musicians and we were never quite sure if it was a big stereo jamming out tunes or a live band-we had to go see to believe. It turned out to be a celebration for the patron saint Guadelupe, lucky us. We grabbed some eggs at a local breakfast joint on the way out of town and noticed the bags under everyones eyes. It was progressively getting hotter each kilometer as we dropped in elevation and continued towards the isthmus. We started climbing one of many a big hill and reached the top 15 kilometers later wherewe found a small town. A very old woman served us some sodas which we needed badly to replace depleted sugars. The views of distant mountains with cloud capped peaks were beautiful and we longed to be in those clouds...soon enough. After 70 hot and hilly kilometers we came across a big lake a couple klicks off the road, so we headed down a dirt path in pursuit of a refreshing swim. I have been sick with stomach problems since we left Oaxaca so my lack of appetite prompted me to zonk out for a while and throw back as much water as I could stomach. We decided to crank to the next town where we could get a hotel so I could recuperate. We pushed the last 30 kilometers toTehuantepec and found our cheap hotel where I could lay down my delirious head, but unfortunatly, today the problems still persist. People who have a negative view of Mexico picture towns like Tehuantepec. It is generally run down, smells pretty funky, and people are not exceptionally nice. The outdoor markets are crowded, smell horrible, and are infested with feral dogs-a big problem in this town. Most Mexican towns one visits have some sort of issue with feral dogs but Tehuantepec has the most mangy, hairless, scavenger beasts I've came across in my travels-some with multiple gangrenous compound fractures from being hit by cars and are found licking each others piss off the sidewalk for nourishment. With my stomach already in a funk, this dog situation doesn't help. I feel for these animals and wish Icould help them in the only way possible at this point-a quick painless death (many are beyond help). Tomorrow we head for the hills, north-east towards San Cristobal de las Casas. The road well exceeds altitudes of 2600 meters so we have our workcut out for us. From there we will aim for a town in Guatemala in which to search out some sort of celebration in the name of silly holidays. Health and happiness to all!
-jeremie
new pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0

Oaxaca

Que tal? Let's see, where did I leave off... ah yes, weare in Oaxaca about to face our last day of spanish classes tomorrow-they have proved quite helpful and we all look forward to another week of studies in Guatemala, probably in Antigua. Given we haven't been to Ciudad de Mexico or Cuernavaca (apparently both are quite the experience) I deem Oaxaca as the best city in Mexico. The warm and friendly inhabitants paired with beautiful colonial architecture, grande outdoor mercados (markets), and plenty of activities provide a great experience against the backdrop of the surrounding mountains.Nightly music in the Zocolo (downtown square), many cool cafes for shooting the breeze with locals, bars with free live music, and a free movie theatre where we saw the original Night of the Living Dead are just a few of the things to do to stay occupied in Oaxaca (and to keep yourself from gourging constantly on the great food). In Mexico, Oaxacan food is a delicacy consisting of: world famous mole sauces in every color of the rainbow, Oaxaquilla cheese, and Oaxacan chocolate to name just a few. On our first day here we tossed a bus driver 3.5pesos (35 cents) for a 6 kilometer bus ride to the Monte Alban ruins. Slightly renovated 2500+ year old temples and tombs leave you daydreaming of the way life used to be in the area. Inscriptions in stone tell ancient stories of animal and human sacrifice, battles and empires won, and castrations for the collection of blood to offer to the gods of fertility(yikes!). Local men wandered around the tourists selling painted stone masks and mayan rock carvings in an attempt to capatalize on their ancestors history. The setting for the once bustling city of 20,000+ was on the top of big hill in the middle of the valley overlooking modern day Oaxaca which now replaces what was once a fertile river valley where large agricultural plots sustained the community and enabled them to barter for other necessities. We have been continuing our stay at the la luz de luna (light of the moon) hostel where the employees jokingly call us team america and it is understood that when we walk in they yell team america and we reply 'f#$k yeah!' (refer to the puppet movies' theme song if you don't know what I'm talking about). Hostels are great for meeting people and aquiring useful information from travellers who have been where you are going. I have met people from France, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Korea, Canada, Italy, Spain, Texas, Alaska, Kentucky, New Jersey, Boston, Florida, Portland, D.C., New York, Maine, Michigan, etc. One guy is 23 years old and has been to 33 countries!-and to think some people die never having left their own... We stay in our tents or hammocks on the roof of the hostel because it is cheaper but we have to deal with the two basset hound puppies that have proceeded to wake us up at 6 in the morning everyday, tear a hole in Jakes tent, and piss everywhere not to mention the very nearby church bells that begin at 6:30 am. The hostel hosts a pretty nice climbing wall which helps to even out negatives. Two of our team of four have hooked up with a swiss guy whose is going to drag them up pico de orrizaba-the tallest mountain in Mexico and the third tallest in North America so we may be here into next week. This weekend I plan on taking a bus to see the biggest tree in the world (58 meters in circumference) and nearby ruins which I forget the name of. Our revised route through the rest of Mexico has been solidified and will take us to San Cristobal, Pelenque, and into some middle of nowhere jungle boat that will take us across the border into Guatemala-the land of sweet volcanoes and cheap travels. I just checked the counter on my photobucket account which informed me that my pictures have been accessed 6000 times in the last month, awesome! I hope everyone continues to enjoy the pics and pass the link on to all of your friends-I promise once we get back on our bikes the adventures will continue. Hope everyone is taking good care and staying warm. Pura vida
-jeremie
as usual, new pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0/

Into the mountains

Hello all! So, we´ve been off of our bikes for a little while in an attempt to catch up with our shrinking crew. Caleb has came to the decision that he has better things to do in Ecuador so we are the Fabulous Four now. Justin and I made some friends in Zihuatanejo who had a rental car (you can rent one for $15 american per day!!!!) and were heading to Puerto Escondido, so we strapped our bikes on and hit the road. Our friends were in no hurry so the first night brought us into Alculpoco. It was a rough transition to endure as we went from biking along clean, tropical paradise shoreline into a city of 600,000. Immediately we were thrusted into bumper to bumper traffic with thousands of VW bug cabs honking profusely and making single lanes into double-not to mention the city busses with their fancy air-brush jobs, strobe lights,and dance music blaring. It was mayhem and we just looked on in fear and apprehension. Our friends had intentions of finding a hotel room in the city so we pulled off the main strip and I waited at the car while they searched for an establishment that reached our high standards. As I was waiting by the car I saw our friend Stefan who we met in Zihuatanejo. He had taken a bus there earlier and said he found a nice cheap hotel which we eventually stayed at. Later we wandered around town to laugh at the tourists doing their tourist things, which normally involves spending lots of money at overpriced bars and having tequila poured down their throats by big girls with whistles. People on the street were very aggressive, following you as you walked; at first trying to lure you into the bar they worked for and then offering you ´whatever you want´, everthing from pot to cocaine to women. Stefan and Trudy provided us with some entertainment when they sprung for the 2 for1 bungee jumping. We left early the next day and stopped at some no-name beach to take a mid-afternoon dip. The waves were huge and strong and we got caught inside on a big set-ouch; the scars tell the story. We pulled up to a beach front restaurant and were able to hang our hammocks under their palapas-another good night´s sleep on the beach (feeling kind of spoiled at thispoint). We reached Puerto Escondido in late afternoon and found a cheap hostel near the enormous surf break.The next day, Justin and I rented some surfboards for round two of our ocean bound brutality. The waves here were steep, fast, and generally unfriendly and we limped out of the water after an hour of salt-water sinus cleansing. There were many skilled surfers at the break but even the best were getting thrashed, a fast overhead wave breaking in 2 feet of water-it makes you cringe when you see someone get tossed over the falls. The next day we stuffed our bikes in the back of van that was Oaxaca bound-the last push to finally catch up with our amigos. The road to Oaxaca was something else; I grew up riding in cars through the Appalachians, have lived in Colorado for over 5 years where I´ve travelled many mountain passes, and travelled to nearly all of the lower 48 but never haveI encountered a road as steep, windy, and just downright dangerous as this one. The poorly planned road wound continuously through the mountains and climbed to points over 2000 meters. The driver had his work cut out for him as he constantly battled the steering wheel, aiming the van down the never straigh troad, dodging donkeys and people, other insane drivers, and the occasional lane-wide chunk of road missing that left a nice view of the valley floor far below. Basically, cycling on this road could very well mean sure death-the odds would not be on your side. We survived the journey and cycled across town to the Light of the Moon hostel where we found our lost amigos. Since Spanish classes start on Mondays, they were a week ahead. Justin and I will start Monday and have a week of class, supplemented by another week in Guatemala. Our brilliant planning will take us south towards the coast again for a short time and then we will head north, climbing over 7000 feet of vertical to San Cristabol. From there we will continue to the ancient Mayan ruins of Pelenque where we will jump off of huge waterfalls and battle angry howler monkies. Advice: I would crawl across a desert for the food in Oaxaca, it is amazing! Adios amigos!
-jeremie
new pics at: http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0 enjoy!

Michoacan

Here we are, riding down the line. As always, I hope these random thoughts reach everyone happy and well. Barra de Navidad is a great town-if you ever catch yourself wandering around Mexico, specifically the western coast, stop here, stay at the Hotel Jalisco (say hi to Mario for me), find the restaurant that has the .80 fish tacos and .70 beers (drink one for me) and swing by Felix's restaurant and try the cheap licuados (mix plantano(banana) and fresa(strawberry), and then go to the internet cafe and send me an e-mail to thank me. Well rested and chocked full of extra calories we head out of Barra and towards Manzanillo. Manzanillo is a bigger town that dominates a good 20 or so kilometers of coastline. As we entered the north part of town we gawked at the beatiful beach, turning to each other to reaffirm that we would stop to swim in an hour-which would be the hottest part of the day. Shortly thereafter the road veered directly inland and uphill where we laughed and turned around to go swimming. We were already drenched in sweat so instead of the usual-slip out of bike shorts on side of road-maneuver, we jumped right in-except Justin who wrapped a 30 foot blue tarp around him and changed.To our relief, water was still refreshing and even better, there were waves big enough for body surfing. We gleefully played in the waves like little kids and>¡ boy did time fly-we looked at our clock and it was half past four (but we didn't realize we had crossed a time zone). We looked into camping right there on the beach but were informed the police weren't as excited about the idea as we were, but the owner of a nearby restaurant said that there was an empty house down the beach with plam trees in front that would suffice for hammocks. We cooked up our gourmet slop in mass quantities right on a beachside bench and scoped out the house-a nice flat front yard with two coconut palms and big metal bars on each side of the front gate, perfect for three hammocks. I noticed some coconuts littering the yard and mentioned that one of those to the head would be no bueno-Justin informed us that more people die each year from coconuts to the dome than from wolf attacks and lightning strikes combined!? Imagine all the more useful information one could store in their minds... After a splendid night of sleep in a hammock, Allen and I pretended we were the apes from 2001:A space oddysey and tried to husk a coconut. I quickly realized that everyone carries machetes around not to chop each other up in barroom brawls but for useful activities like eating. Seeing as we had little food (small Mexican tiendas have little in the way of nourishment) we wandered upon a cyclists oasis, a humongous grocery store-one that rivaled american stores in size, quality, and selection. I was quite impressed as I perused the ailes until I reached the bakery... the angels sang and halos hovered over the sweetbread.The three of us sat on a bench in front and consumed huge amounts of sugar and carbs (no adkins diet here). Some locals who walked by showed mixed signs of surprise, hilarity, and sheer terror. We all had three fullbags of groceries in front of us and I'm sure it appeared as if we were going to devour it all. All fueled up we mounted our steel stallions and cruised to Tecoman. We rode by the beginnings of a circus and everyone seemed to be out and about. We stopped at a tienda to refill our dromedaries (we drink an average of 6-8 liters per day excluding sodas) and had a quick conversation with an apparentlylegless clown. He seemed in high spirits and commented how strong our legs were-we all felt kind of sorry for him but I got the feeling he didn't share the same feelings for himself. We shared some palabras (words) and cookies and bid him farewell. There appeared to be many festivities in the area as we rode through the next town and contemplated stopping at a big rodeo to divulge in the festivities. It seemed pretty rowdy and we didn't quite fit in with our Shimano cycling sandals and high thread count Patagonia capilenes so we continued on to reach a beach to camp on. We wandered down some random road towards the beach late in the day, hoping the best. We found black sand beaches and numerous palapas just begging for some gringos with hammocks. We paid the slum-lord his 80 pesos to use the palapa posts and quality banos (bathrooms) and showers. The toilet-seat-less toilets required manual flushing using the small bucket located in the large bucket of water. This was also the method one would employ to shower-the ocean worked well enough for me. We rode out of Boca de Apiza and it's banana plantations and on south again-I have a compass mounted on my handlebars and I'm not sure why. We ventured into the next state south, Michoacan, a state filled with short, stout mountains, breath-taking beaches, and great inquisitive people. We had talked the previous day of a high mileage day in order to flex our large quads and calves-but we ate our words at the top of the first hill. They were not extremely long but quite steep. The second hill was longer and had a section at the top where standing up and forcing all your body weight and muscle into each pedal-stroke was mandatory. As midday approached we had covered a little over 50 kilometers and were in dire need of dip in the drink. We pulled over shortly after we went through a river valley and peered down a rough dirt road leading in the general direction of the beach. A guy sweeping some dirt in the road said the beach was 1 kilometer down the road...what the hell, let's test these bikes out. A kilometer goes by and there is a>split in the road. Right went uphill and in the wrong>direction while left was a road wide mud hole and the>road above lent on that it went to the beach. We>almost turned back and poked fun at just rallying through the puddle at high speed but assumed it to be at least 3 meters deep (ok, maybe three inches). We skirted it and continued another couple of kilometers until, to our surprise, we reached a nice little town near the water. A well kept town square, strips of pavement in the dirt as a road, and a school yard of children proved that people dwelled here permanently. We hit the beach and quickly realized we had blindly stumbled upon paradise-La Ticla. We laughed about our dumb-luck and started stringing up our hammocks, each deciding to ourselves that there would be no more cycling today. We watched some vagabond surfer gringos ride perfect waves in perfect waters in front of perfect backdrops. A local lady came by shortly and sold us delicious 5 peso tamales each tied intricately with corn husk bows-needless to say she came back many times. We talked with many travellers from the US, South Africa, France, Canada, and ones who would never claim an origin. We got word that some old bloke from Vancouver was renting surfboards for cheap. We awoke at dawn in our hammocks and as I was whipping up a fresh batch of swamp water mate (thanks Hofer) our man walked up and informed us that he had boards for us...bitchin'! He gave us the buddy price, fresh leashes, wax, and sent us on our way. Justin and I headed out to a nice left and proceeded to get a combination of some great rides and absolutely worked when we were too far inside on the big sets. The biggest sets were nearly overhead and this was not the friendliest break for amateurs but we love having fun the hard way. We rode in after an hour long session and looked forward to finding a point break down the coast that would be easier to paddle out to. We were at a beach break which means you have to paddle out through the waves to get out past the break, which can be quite the chore. We chilled out in our hammocks for awhile and some guys rolled up in a pick-up full of bananas; ,'dias pesos por seis kilos' (one dollar for six kilos-1 kilo=2.2 lbs.), we handed him a 10 peso coin and he handed us 16 bananas. The tamale lady rolled up a few minutes later and we started some mental math to see how long we could live here with the money we have-quite a while. We headed out for another surf session in a different spot. The waves and current were a bit stronger here and we got thoroughly hammered. It is quite the experience to get pounded by big waves, especially when you see it coming; you curl up in a little ball and you get shot to the bottom where you attempt to plant your feet firmly, push up, and reel in your board before the next wave gets you. We all got some good poundings and laughed later when I bent over and water started pouring out of my nose. The next morning we returned the boards and got the normal questions about our trip; they wished us well, gave us an armload of grapefruit, and sent us on our way. Over the next couple of days we had a mix of biking and hitching in an attempt to catch up with our hombres. The coastline in Michoacan is quite mentionable; even from the back of a truck we had amazing views of waves crashing at the bottom of tall bluffs in between sections of road where nothing wasvisible through the impenetrable green tunnel of jungle. We have now found our way to Zihuatanejo, a friendly city in northern Guerro where we have set up camp at a really neat hostel. We just got word that our crew was here yesterday but departed for Oaxaca so they can start their spanish lessons and order a new wheel for Jake (his is somewhat 'defective' and continues to break spokes). Sorry about the lengthy stories but I can't bring myself to omit necessary (I think) details. You can find the latest pics at:

The Mexican Coast-moy tranquillo

Hello everyone and thanks for all the feedback-it´s
great to hear from ya´ll and know that I´m not talking
to the great cyber-black hole that is e-mail.

Things seem to be getting progressively more
hilarious by the momentito. Last I wrote we had just
arrived in Soyalito-the town of many gringos. In the
evening we met some nice folks from San Diego to San
Fran to Aspen, CO of all places. Many people from the
states spend their winters in this town-for good
reason. After our nightly gourge on barato comida
(cheap food), licuados (heavenly mexican milkshakes),
and ice cream (we need our calories!), we headed back
to the campground site that our new buddy Eric hooked
us up with. He had a permanent site on the beach where
a huge swiss army tent was pitched including a lazy
chair and ottoman. He never stayed in it though; he
had more than enough people begging him to house-sit
their casas while out of town-poor guy.
I awoke before sunrise as usual after a lovely
night of sleep on the lazy boy, pacific waves lapping
at the shore. We went for some caffe in town to
provide us with gasolina por bicycletta and to shoot
the breeze with some local folk. We talked with a
couple of older gentlemen, one from the Bronx and one
from Montreal who were very interested in our trip and
drilled us with questions. As we packed to leave a
lady approached me who I thought looked familiar, she
ended up being a supervisor of mine when I worked at a
catering company in Breckenridge, CO. She was there on
vacation with her husband and mentioned how they only
brough credit cards and therefore were unable to do
anything but eat at really nice restaurants (there is
a distinct lack of atm´s and businesses who accept
credit cards in mexico). She reacted with the usual
questions and the usual ´you guys are f%&$*ing crazy´
and I bid her fairwell.
We hitched a ride for the next 20 kilometers to
avoid the stretch of Mex 200 that has the worst
reputation and got dropped off 10 km. north of Puerto
Vallarta. It was an interesting ride throught the
city; dodging traffic, holding on to the bumpers of
busses, and responding to random yells of
encouragement and otherwise. Once we hit the beachside
boardwalk, we slowed down to take in the sights of
interesting metal statues, fat gringo paragliders
launching from the beach, and the general hustle and
bustle of the city that is alien compared to our usual
days of riding through the jungles and mellow coastal
towns. A mustachioed guy yelled at me from a beachside
kiosk, ´maps!´, I yelled back that we had maps and he
beckoned me over. I just assumed he was trying to sell
me something as most people are but asked where we
rode from and so on and so forth. Turns out he was a
mountain climber who had climbed many mountains in
Colorado-he was an interesting chap who deemed us
´something else´-he made it sound like a good thing.
After Puerto Vallarta we began to climb up a
road that was moy inclinado-the kind of hill where you
keep trying to downshift even though you know you are
out of larger cogs. After a few kilometers of inhaling
your own sweat we came upon a roadside oasis-a 30 foot
waterfall begging for some sweaty gringos to jump in.
We bathed and hit the road but not before Justin
quickened his descent with bad footing and scared us
with a 20 foot slide into a pool-luckily he looked up
and laughed hysterically.
We had heard a rumor about a really cool spot
beside a river on the side of the mountain that we
were climbing called Chico´s Paradise. We were riding
high above the river which by the sound was moy
rapido. Chico´s paradise turned out to be a really
neat old building perched above a calmer section of
the river that housed a restaurant (way overpriced)
and gift shop. The rocks were old weather worn granite
that felt good on the bare feet and cool water that
felt great on the hot skin. A group of local 10-12
year old kids were doing back flips into a deep pool
for pesos. There was one younger guy who was pulling
off some impressive maneuvers who we ran into later.
He was Marcos, a 22 year old who had spent the last 20
years in this little town. He was very friendly and
spoke enough english to match our little spanish so
that we could all commmunicate. He took us to his cool
little spot above a rapid; a smooth, curved, water
eroded shelf where he went to indulge in the many
churros he consumed each day. He eventually led us
into the tiny village where he said there was a nice
river side beach to camp and he wanted us to meet his
resident gringo friend, John.
We went down the road and took a look at the
beach-absolutely perfect. Marcos insisted that we go
to John´s to say hi. John was happy to meet us...well,
John was just a happy guy. He was a tripped out
looking guy, about 45 years old, with a skinny face
donned with thick, round, foggy glasses. He had a
badly chipped front tooth and he smiled big
constantly-it was quite the challenge to keep from
laughing the whole time. He said that five years ago
in Reno, NV, his old lady kicked him out, he left his
job, and decided to move south. His current situation
(I will never forgive myself for not getting a picture
of his casa) was him living in the basement of a
crappy looking house where him and a ´business
partner´ of his processed meat-italian sausage,
chorizo, and such. His pad had a dirt floor,
miscellaneous meat processing equipment (not very
sanitary looking), no windows, and no apparent
sleeping quarters? If the circumstances of where we
were, how we got there, and what this guys situation
was like wasn´t hilarious enough, the basement was
built around a very large rock which protruded
into-well...occupied most of the room. He was friendly
and dug on the plans of our adventure; he also
provided us with some coconut oil which acts as a bug
repellent, seeing as we were getting eaten alive and
didn´t have any bug spray.
After an hour of talking with John we explained
how we were famished and needed to go cook some food
on the beach. He thought we were crazy for using a
stove to cook pasta and veggies. He said we should be
building raging camp fires and hitting up the tienda
for some ham and cheese and save our ´camp food´ for
when we really need it. He said ´I´ll tell ya what,
I´ll head over to so and so´s house (where there is a
refrigerator) and grab that 6 foot rattlesnake I
killed the other day and you guys can throw it in your
pasta´. I was quite excited for the rattlesnake but he
never showed-judging by the enormous jar of weed he
kept by his side, he probably forgot.
The next morning we grabbed some supplies from a
tienda and were packing up when a truck load of people
our age pulled up. They all worked for a company that
offers zip-line canopy tours. One guy stopped to talk
to us and spoke of his experience living in Denver the
previous year and wished us bueno suerte (good luck).
The first tienda did not have agua purificada so we
stopped at another which boasted brightly colored
caged birds and of all things a squirrel; we
stretched, and continued up the mountain. 70
kilometers later we descended to sea level where we
headed towards the beach for a swim and some lunch.
There was a small lagoon with tons of huge iguanas and
an alligator-we had truly entered the jungle. Onward
to Barra de Navidad.
From the beach we ate lunch at, to Barra de
Navidad was 17 kilometers, we figured we would barely
break a sweat and be there in an hour to take a swim,
do laundry, and still have time to find a camp on the
beach. Not so. We began ascending a very steep
mountain and did so for the next 9 kilometers, ouch.
We rolled into town pretty late but found a cheap
hotel in town (it´s not quite holiday season). Not
only was it a cheap hotel but offered free, to hotel
patrons, coffee, laundry, bike tours, snorkeling
tours, alligator viewing tours, and most
importantly-free spanish lessons. Mario was our
wonderful host and we quickly befriended him as his
wife began our laundry (I wouldn´t want to do our
laundry, poor lady). He gave us the low-down on cheap
food, where to go for live music, and a little spanish
lesson over dinner.
Barra de Navidad is a very tranquillo
(tranquil) little peninsular town which I would highly
recommend to travellers (as Trevor, my brother,
recommended to me). Today we will explore the local
beaches, snorkel, and have a spanish lesson with
Mario. In the manaña we will head down Mex 200 again
towards Aculpoco and attempt to catch up with our
other 3 amigos.
Enjoy a few new pictures at
http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0/
Adios til next time, don´t forget to write!
-jeremie

Northern Mexican Jungles

Greetings-so we survived our ride from Mazatlan toTepic in the back of an empty cargo truck. It was a rough ride that took a good 4 hours and dropped us off at dusk in the outskirts of Tepic-not the most glorious city in Mexico. The ride was rough but provided us a good view of the countryside from the top of the truck-also a good view of the lunatic drivers. I'm convinced that bicycling this section would have led to certain death as large trucks and busses passed each other without regard for oncoming traffic or blind curves. Well rested after 4 days of no biking, the 75 miles we rode from Tepic to Lo de Marcos was a deserved wake up call. 92 degree, high humidity jungle weather leaves one drowning in their own sweat cranking up poorly graded Mex 200. Beauty ensued though, as we crested the top of a mountain late in the day and drifted down the other side at 40mph-passing dead armadillos, waterfalls, and views of the lush valley below. We rapidly reached the bottom and the beach where we decided to ride to Lo de Marcos; heeding to a locals advice of nice safe beaches. A palapa 5 meters from the water proved worthy enough for a couple hammocks and a local surfer, Manuel, drunk and trying to teach us spanish, provided the entertainment. A quick dip in the ocean at sunrise and a fresh pineapple down the hatch and we cruised down the coast en route to Soyalita-heralded as a quaint little surfing village where we might find some waves for riding. No luck on the swell, but a friendly local gringo offered us a place to stay for free in a local campground; an offer that we eagerly accepted considering our limited options closer to Puerta Vallarta. We wandered around Soyalito, shades donned to safeguard our retinas from the reflective pale white skin of middle aged gringos/gringas on vacation (tourist trap), we contemplate our next move. The stretch of Mexico 200 between this town and PuertaVallarta has an awful reputation from a driving point of view, let alone a cyclists. My spidey senses tell me that hitch-hiking the 35 kilometers to PuertaVallarta maybe a good excersize in self-preservation (not to mention a nice rest day before the climb out of Puerta Vallarta-the map showing a vertical gain of almost 2400 meters, yikes! I have updated the picture album, new pictures are at the end, click on page 4. http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0 Til next time, asta luego!
-jeremie

Mainland Madness

Here is the latest going ons with the circus de la gringo cinco (although now currently six)...

After our brief stint in the friendly gringo-esque town of Loreto we embarked on the big push to ride as fast as possible through the 330 grueling desert kilometers to La Paz. We were warned that there would be a big hill a few miles outside of town and then flat ground the rest of the way... do yourself a favor if you are in Mexico and do not ask advice about geography. We had hoped to hit the big hill early so we wouldn´t have to crank it in the 100+ degree midday heat but it was 25 miles until we started up it and another 25 before we started down the other side. We paused at the only little store we had seen all day after 65 miles of steep hills in the desert and contemplate hitch-hiking to La Paz. It was getting late and decided to ride past the next town, Ciudad de Insurgentes, camp, and try for a ride from Ciudad de Constitucion in the morning. I lagged a little behind my amigos when we hit the town and I made a wrong turn at a confusing intersection only to end up riding 14 miles in the wrong direction. I turned around, a tad bit frustrated and tired after riding over 100 brutal miles, and soon hitched a ride back in the right direction. It was near dark and could not find my amigos so, exhausted I crawled under a cactus, ate some instant oatmeal, and awoke at dawn to go track down our gringo bicycle circus. As expected it was quite easy to sit at a cafe on the main street in town and wait for them to ride up. We laughed about the whole situation and rode south of town to hitch rides the remaining 200 kilometers toLa Paz where we will catch a ferry to the mainland and this is where things got funny...By this point we had joined forces with Allan-a cool 20 year old from Ottawa who has biked fromVancouver, BC on his way to Puerto Vallarta (if we don´t talk him into riding to Argentina with us) he was as into skipping the next 130 desert miles as we were. We split up into groups of two´s to make it easier to fit our gear into trucks. Justin and Allan headed down the road while Jake and I made a cheezy sign out of napkins and stuck out our thumbs. Five minutes later, Justin rode back up and said a big rig stopped and had room for one so Allan was on his way. An old Ford ranger with three amigos in the cab stopped-friendly construction workers going to La Paz to pick up materials. We squashed into the back with a six-pack for the two and half hour trip and laughed about our current situation. Pee break and the truck was running bad, didn't want to run but did...for a little while. Another stop-the driver thought it was the injectors (I know it´s not); next stop, he thinks it is the coil in the distributor (I know it´s not); third stop, truck will not run, needs attention. The driver is convinced that it is the fuel pump while I suggest that it seemed like a clogged fuel filter; he was confident and didn´t speak good enough english for me to argue with him. He proceeded to siphon gas into a milk jug and planned on running a hose from the milk jug, being held on the roof by one of us, into the air intake on the truck and gravity siphon gas for the next 65 miles. I watched and laughed from a safe distance as this was going on and of course it did not work (might have worked with a carbuerated engine) and asked him if I could help. 10 minutes later after cleaning the clogged fuel line and filter we were back on the road. 15 miles outside of La Paz we see Allan riding his bike and soon hit a military check point; we assumed the trucker probably couldn´t take passengers through checkpoints. Allan caught up with us in town and explained that the trucker tried to get him to perform sexual favors but Allan declined and the trucker did not force the matter. When the trucker pulled over, shut off the motor, and said he was going to ´change the oil´ (in the middle of the desert), Allan sensed danger, crawled out of the window (the door handle was missing), snuck around the back of the truck, got his bike, and hauled ass out of there! He wasn´t sure whether the trucker was playing a joke or not but we all learned a lesson-never hitch alone. Well, we made it to La Paz all safe and sound, crashed at a really cool, cheap hotel, and caught the ferry yesterday. After a 16 hour ferry ride we arrived in Mazatlan early this morning. We have heard very bad things about highway 15 between Mazatlan and Tepic, occasionally referred to as the corridor of death. We will find an alternative method of travel to Tepic but in the meantime are looking forward to riding along the coast for the next few weeks. For convenience, I have set up a photobucket account to post all trip photos. The site can be accessed through this link http://photobucket.com/albums/b89/zeeko0 These are all the photos to date. Some are out of order but from now on new ones will be last. If you do not want to be included as a recipient of my incessant babble please shoot me an e-mail and I will take careof it. Til next time, pura vida! (pure life)
-jeremie
p.s.- We were very lucky to have met and stayed at Juan Ramos´s house in Loreto. He is a very talented(and well known) artist and a phenomenal human being.I urge all to check out his art at his website; www.juanramos.com (I think), and also his step-son´s music- Donovan Frankenreiter.

Southern Baja California

This was my first mass e-mail from Mexico. We had ridden a fair amount by now-through towns like El Rosario, Catavina, Guerro Negro, and San Ignacio and had had a considerable amount of adventures. Feel free to post questions about bicycle touring or travel in general. Enjoy!

Southern Baja California
After a mandatory rest day in Mulege (I had some bad heat exhaustion from the day before) we rolled outon our usual path south. The first 25 miles were postcard paradise along Bahia de Conception. We stopped after about 15 miles to hang out under some water front palapas, swim in the clear, warm water, and consume as much sugar as we could stomach for the up and down terrain. The road quickly veered away from the water as we headed inland towards Loreto. We came across another roadside food stand at about four thirty(time to find a camp) and deemed his kitchen below our already very low standards, but he agreed to sell us agua purificado and let us camp on his property-equal to a southern West Virginia trailer park. We awoke just as the sky began to brighten and as usual all wandered off into the bushes...in different directions...quickly. Another beautiful Mexican sunrise and we were on the road early to beat theheat of the day. There are no insane asylums in Mexico but I have figured out what they do with the clinically insane-they put them behind the wheel of a bus! The borderline insane are truck drivers who pass each other on blind curves-memorials to the unsuccessful dot the roadside frequently. We are in Loreto now, perhaps the most beautiful and clean of Baja cities. We had the good fortune of striking up conversation with the father of Donovan Frankenreiter (a Jack Johnson-ish surfer/musician) who hospitibly offered us a place to crash in the middle of town at his newly acquired casa in the process of being renovated. We shall eat more than we should and sleep soundly under a scorpion free roof. Buenos noches
-Jeremie