Moving on from Parral I planned a five day route through rural Durango to the state capital. A direct ride on the highway would have taken three days but would surely have missed some of the best scenery and the experience of village life. On the way out of Parral I met some bikers who were fascinated by my ride. With the reluctance to leave the comforts of the city behind, I was only too happy to spend a few minutes answering their questions.
However, the journey must go on and a few hours out of Parral I finally left Chihuahua, the only state I'd been in so far, to enter Durango state. My attempts at finding a place to stay, even just a patch of ground to camp on, were pretty comical. In my intended village of rest, where there is no hotel, the first person I asked for help from was as deaf as a post, the second seemed to be the village idiot and the third, a surprisingly unhelpful priest who couldn't grant me permission to camp next to the church. I rode on to the next village, made a beeline to the next church, service in progress. I perched at the back of the church with the intention of befriending the priest at the end of the service, until I realised it was the same guy who had already been of no help to me!
In the end some locals recommended I rode on to La Presa, a reservoir 2 miles up the road. What a fantastic campspot! Just a few vultures (and mosquitoes) for company and the usual chorus of crickets and other insects. One of the most atmospheric places I've camped at and a wonderful temperature for sleeping.
The next day was 95% on tracks and a welcome change to riding roads. I was in no hurry but even so, it took me the best part of the day to cover 43 miles. I'd forgotten how much more demanding it is to make progress over this kind of terrain and how much tougher it is on the bike. Nonetheless, an enjoyable days riding.
Cattle grids that also do a good job at catching cyclists! Gilding across the first few effortlessly I soon lost my nerve and slipped off the edge! Horrified at all the damage I might have done to the bike, the rest of the cyclist grids were crossed at snails pace.
On arrival at San Bernardo, absolutely starving, I entered an abarotte - convenience store - which also served food. I interrupted the conversation of a group of old men drinking cokes, a tumbleweed moment. However, after hearing my story I was sat down and told to eat as much as I wanted, it was all free! Such kindness is genuinely humbling and it's hard to know what to say as thanks.
No hotels in San Bernardo so, undaunted by my previous failed attempt with the clergy, I went to the church again seeking refuge. The priest was away but Saul was able to receive me and, success! He was happy to give me a bed for the night and a second dinner. With a the riding in doing extra food is lapped up with enthusiasm.
Saul is studying philosophy at the church while working as a high school teacher in the village. His first lesson of the next day was geography so I joined him and his class on a little trip down to the local river to study rocks. The class clearly enjoyed the freedom of being on a field trip but I'm not sure everyone was doing what they should have been. Much like my field trips back home! Still, I chatted with some of the class, though only one girl, who'd had some schooling in the States, could speak English. This is the view from the school across San Bernardo.
And this is smiling Saul!
Moving on from San Bernardo I crossed the Sierra Madre which involved some pretty intense climbing and wonderful descents! My photos don't do the Sierra justice but it's worth every ache and pain to ride this majestic landscape. 
In the evening I arrived at Cienega, another village with no hotel so, again, to the church. A woman I approached in the street told me the priest wasn't around but that I should ask Jesus Ramos for help. I asked her where he lived, over there, in the house with the yellow door. So, off I went to find Jesus Ramos in the house with the yellow door. I nervously introduced myself to him and within 10 minutes I was eating chile relleno at his dinner table and hearing his accounts of, as a young man, five times crossing the desert into the States, sin papeles to make a living across the border. He told me he was never refused help and assistance so now he always endeavours to help travellers.
Moving on from Cienegas, a tough 87 mile ride with three stretches of mountains to cross and the blessed relief of plains inbetween. Arriving at Nuevo Ideal in the evening I saw a hotel and, exhausted, was only too happy to take a bed for the night. Leave the priests in peace for once. I've stopped bargaining for lower room prices; firstly I'd rather support the local economy than save a few pesos for myself, secondly the prices I'm being quoted seem more than fair, I don't get the sense I'm being charged a gringo rate. Spanish helps a lot I guess. 
The start of today's ride and a clear marker of the challenge ahead. Don't worry, the road signs use kms so in fact I had less than 80 miles to cover and very few hills to cross today. I was in Durango by 3pm in a stress free ride. 
The burden of being a novelty - lots of selfies and stops for chats! Nevertheless good for the ego and people like this guy often give you snacks to take on the ride.
These kids had the right idea, it gets mighty hot in the afternoon. Fine if you're travelling at speed with the breeze, uncomfortable if you're slugging it up a mountain, sweat dripping into and stinging your eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment