29. Backroads Durango

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 all 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.

28. The road to Parral

From the Copper Canyons my next anchor point and place with a Mexican contact was Hidalgo de Parral. Taking a cursory glance at my map I estimated three days to get there. Oh how I underestimated the terrain! While I did get there in three days some of the riding was pretty brutal. Climbs and descents of 1000ft to 2000ft were pretty frequent but, the tougher the terrain, the more spectacular the scenery. My photos don't really do the landscape justice; it was a genuinely exhilarating ride, the best road riding of the trip with very little traffic to contend with for once.

Pushing on, I didn't give myself much time to stop in the villages along the way but I did enjoy the variety they added to the landscape. Especially atmospheric first thing in the morning with mist rising, cockerels crowing, people preparing breakfast, many of these villages seemed rather forgotten by time.

As posted on Facebook, this was not the most salubrious of campsites being just a few metres from the road. However, when you've put in a shift of 92 miles through the mountains, if you've got flat ground you just zip up the tent, close out the world, lie down and sleep. At the very least, my pitch was screened from the road by trees so I felt safe from any unwanted human attention. My phone just ran out of battery before I could take a picture of the previous night's pitch high up on a rocky track above a deep canyon. At night you are serenaded by a marvellous orchestra of insect sounds, chirping rhythmically from all angles. The chorus is most intense just after dark and gradually thins out through the night until, by dawn, it is silent (and time to get up). 

 Having suffered a bit (a lot) to get Parral I was relieved and in extraordinarily high spirits to arrive here. This is my first stop in a city with significant colonial architecture and such a contrast to the preceding towns and villages which have more of a ranching/farming feel to them. My gallant steed is in the bottom left of the picture; riding fully loaded through a city you attract a bit of attention, all positive, curious and good natured. 

My contact in Parral is Aida, who runs a restaurant in town. She likes beer and good food so we've been getting on well! Also, she represents part of a movement that is bringing change to attitudes in Mexico. Though the church dominates many peoples' lives here in a way that it no longer does  in the UK, there is a LGBT community across the country that is becoming more visible.

 I was honestly so hyperactively excited to be in Parral that I went to bed really late (enjoying the luxury of Wifi and streamed radio) and was up at day break to see the city waking up. Result, the rest of the day I was exhausted and listless, walking around the city like a zombie. Must make better use of rest days and/or don't ride multiple 80+ mile days through the mountains.

Better use of a rest day - proper sleep followed by visiting the local sights such as Palacio Alvarado. This was the home of a wealthy family who owned the local silver mines. They were so rich that they offered to pay Mexico's national debt. Being taken around by a guide in Spanish was a sobering lesson that I still have a long way to go with the language. While I got the gist of the message I am acutely aware that my vocabulary is fairly limited and I will need to be proactive in expanding it.

So I'll be back on the road tomorrow heading in the direction of Durango. To save myself the ignominy of retreating to camp in grotty ditches, if I can pluck up the courage, in the coming days I plan to stop in villages and ask for camping spot with the local people. Given the hospitality I've received so far, and the interest my mode of travelling generates, I can't imagine being turned away. The addition of a Mexican flag to my bike is a shameless and wholely calculated gimmick to try and ingratiate myself with the people I encounter! 

27. Autumnal wanderings through the Sierra Madre Occidental

After five days in Nuevo Casas Grandes, four with no cycling at all, I finally tore myself away from family Caraveo to continue my journey south.

The ensuing days saw me crossing back and forth over the Sierra Madre Occidental which stretches from Northern Mexico down to the border with Guatemala. Cool days with the occasional spot of rain made for pleasant riding conditions and it felt good to be back in the saddle, making progress. I stayed with a priest, Padre Gabriel, in Buenaventura. What a cool guy! It was great to see him give a highly entertaining service to the local Oaxaca community, migrant workers from the poorer south of Mexico, and enjoy a nightcap of a couple of chilled tequilas with him. This is the church next to his home.

The next day I powered on through the mountains, rising up above 8000 ft for the first time in weeks. Rusty I suppose from a few days rest I developed nagging pains in my left knee and right thigh, my first concerns of injury on the whole trip. Since then they've sorted themselves out with the help of some intensive stretching sessions but a salutary reminder that I'm not superman and, like my bike, I need to pay a bit of attention to myself to remain a well oiled machine.

Continuing south to La Junta I had the pleasure of staying with Joel and his lovely family. I really hit it off with Joel and chatting with him in Spanish was understanding 90% of what he was saying (I think!). Real sense of progress happening on the language front. Here we are standing in front of his ice cream shop, Tutti Frutti.

I gladly accepted Joel's offer to stay on a day with the family and we travelled to the state capital, also named Chihuahua, to attend a fiesta. Enormous fun to spend the afternoon talking in a mixture of Spanish and English (eldest child, Crystal, speaks good English) about Mexican and British culture dispelling a few myths and stereotypes.

 

Like me, this hummingbird is a delicate creature on a southward trajectory for the winter and our paths crossed in las Barrancas del Cobre. Heading back into the mountains again, I had a wonderful ride up to and beyond Creel deep into the heart of the Copper Canyons. One of my best days riding of the trip, with the bit between my teeth, I managed to cover 96 miles with a height gain of over 7000 ft across an undulating day. Mercifully, not a twinge of complaint from my legs and I made it to my destination just before the heavens opened for the evening.

The Copper Canyons are something of a place of pilgrimage for me having read 'Born To Run', an intriguing mix of writing about running and anthropology based on the Tarahumara people who live in the valleys of the Copper Canyons. Though this picture hints at a level of progress with corrugated iron roofs and solar panels, the Tarahumara lead a simple life, materialism an alien concept to them. Subsistence farmers -  maize, goat herding etc - they barely deal in money and many of them barely speak Spanish.

Carlos and Veyra kindly hosted me at the Copper Canyons and helped me to find the best hiking trails through the deep valleys. Each step of the way my hosts are putting me in contact with friends further  ahead on my route and this is proving to be a great way to travel. It gives me the opportunity to get to know local people and access their local knowledge, it gives me constant practice of Spanish, and helps with the budget as hotels are my greatest expense. Travelling alone it also keeps loneliness at bay! My good friend Adam Rowe, as he drove me to the airport to see me off from England, advised me to stay in hotels once in a while to give myself a break and pamper myself. Two and a half months  in I've stayed in hotels three times; I hope this doesn't disappoint him.

26. Nuevo Casas Grandes - a break at last!

Riding the roads of Mexico, so far, has been a fairly safe experience. You do encounter road surfaces with quite a range of quality and some, like these, are in the process of construction. Nevertheless, they do get you from A to B and some have had wide shoulders to ride on. 99% of truck drivers have been highly respectful and waited behind me for a gap in traffic to pass. The 1% who don't give you quite a fright but I've lived to tell the story!

After putting in such a big, fairly relentless shift in the States, I told myself that I would stop at the first opportunity in Mexico for a decent break from the bike and just relax. I have been so incredibly lucky to stay with Perla and her family in Nuevo Casas Grandes and have felt so at home here. I couldn't have asked for a more gorgeous, intelligent, welcoming and good humoured host and it will be a wrench to leave tomorrow.

I have been introduced to many facets of Mexican culture during my stay, none more interesting to me than food. On Sunday night Ismael, on the left, cooked us a mighty asador - BBQ - of beef, chillis, potatoes etc and gave me my first clamatas- beer mixed with tomato juice, lime juice, salt and pepper.

A friend of the family, Eduardo, runs four ranches around Casas Grandes and invited me out to see how they are run. It was really interesting to see how the desert conditions are carefully managed to get the best out of the land, successful ranches don't happen by chance, you need to put a lot of effort into them. Eduardo is pretty fluent in English as he attended a local Mormon school in his youth; run by Americans, all the instruction was in English.

Babysitting! I had to make myself useful during my stay and lend a hand. Andres, the brother of Perla, left his kids with us while he attended a meeting. Absolutely loveable kids, incredibly sweet but after a few hours running around after them, trying to get a better handle on my Spanish, I was exhausted! I guess it doesn't help that I was out in a bar until the early hours of the previous night (just making the point that I'm not too old to go out for a night on the tiles).

Spencer is an American guy living in Casas Grandes who is passionate about promoting tourism in the area. He works with local artists and renovated traditional homes to help boost tourism (above making money). I completely agree with his view that warnings about safety in the area are unfounded as regards tourists. Yes, there have been some issues with drug cartels in Northern Mexico in the past but these problems are now over and tourists were never targeted. If I'd listened to some friends' advice I would have completely skipped this area and missed out on so much. Thank goodness I decided to follow my own instincts, have faith in the people's and just crack on with the journey.

Paquime is one of Northern Mexico's most important archaeological sites and, while there are probably going to be greater treasures to see as I get to the south, this was a great introduction to Mexico's indigenous culture. The area also boasts great potteries based around the small town of Mata Ortiz. I was severely tempted to buy a piece but was unsure of how it would last the journey strapped to my bike. 

More earning my keep, a morning spent in the local primary school. Any hopes of sitting back, observing from the back of the classroom son evaporated as I was asked to lead a few activities for the whole class. Good fun but exhausting! Six days immersed in Mexican culture has been fantastic and, though I am my harshest critic when it comes to Spanish, my listening skills are slowly picking up and, more than just ordering a beer or meal, my conversational level is improving. A lot of local dialect to grapple with still! 

25. And now for something completely different... Mexico!

The first two months of my trip are up so farewell Canada and the USA. In the end I completed the Great Divide Trail in exactly 50 days, a gruelling experience which I'm proud but glad to have completed. Before I get completely consumed by all things Mexican, I should mention that, shattering some of my preconceptions about the States, not once did anyone give me any trouble, perhaps once was anyone less than helpful when I approached them for help and at absolutely all times I felt really safe; I frequently left my bike unlocked as I went shopping or got a cup of coffee. Canada and the States have the Moden seal of approval!

As happened when I entered the States, a violent storm erupted as I approached the Mexican border. Thunder, lightning just overhead and violent gusts of wind made what can be a stressful process even more challenging. I don't know if I've done the procedure correctly but I do have a Mexican visa. Why am I being so chummy with the immigration official? He was expecting me! Honestly. I'd made contact with a Warm Showers host, Elias Ramos, who has then spread the word of my arrival. First and only time I expect I'll ever get a personal greeting at an international border.

I crossed the border just south of Columbus into the village of Puerto Palomas. Dusty little border town, pleasant enough with a few restaurants, shops and money changers. These guys were playing some traditional sounding tunes so I nipped into the bar for my first Mexican beer. It is said that these border areas are plagued with crime and violence. I have seen no evidence of this myself but will be taking precautions anyway - no camping in the desert, hotel stays from now (first hotel of the trip, none in Canada/the States!), not out after dark, ride during daylight hours along major routes, don't accept sweets off strangers or go to see their puppies etc etc.

As I crossed the border I was genu inely ecstatic to be in Mexico. Though Canada/the States had treated me so well many elements of the culture are very similar and, for me, the biggest thrill of travelling is experiencing the new and unknown. I want to learn more about the Mexican Revolution and Pancho Villa's role (this is his statue), I want to relearn and improve my Spanish, hopeful picking up on local idiosyncrasies. I want to discover Mexican cuisine which I'm really quite ignorant about, and contribute to the country's beer industry (on a small scale as drinking to excess does not support cycle touring).

My first hotel if the trip, Hotel Plaza. Dusty streets and blue skies, I love the character of the towns I've been in so far. A little gentle bargaining seems to be acceptable here and I shouldn't need to pay more than $15 for a room.

Moving on from Puerto Palomas, 20 miles out of town, a car stopped ahead of me and the driver got out and waved me down. Immediately I was on the alert but cautiously stopped. The guy introduced himself, he was the brother of Elias Ramos! He'd been expecting to see me! We chatted a little, he gave me a bottle of iced water and we went our delegate ways.

Later on, as I passed through Ascension, this hitch-hiker flagged me down. "Are you Daniel?" What?!? He was a friend of Elias Ramos and was offering me a place to staying I needed it. It seems that Elias Eamos has a network of guardian angels looking out for me, smoothing my path through Northern Mexico. Today I ride on to Nuevo Casas Grandes and am thrilled to be staying with a Mexican family tonight. Warm Showers has transformed my experiences on this trip.

I thought the desert was dry? Yesterday, just seven miles short of my destination, Janos, I got caught in a mid-afternoon convectional storm. Super intense, I just had time to put in my waterproofs and cower somewhat pathetically next to my bike. For probably just 10 minutes I was lashed by rain and wind and must have looked a sorry sight to the passing lorries. I mean a more sorry sight than usual. 

Roadside stalls will be my main source of refuelling from now. Cheap and filling and the inevitable miscommunications and language barriers can bring you together with people if you just laugh it off. I actually quite enjoy ordering "something" not knowing exactly what will turn up. It reminds me of my own cooking.

24. Last post from the States

After tough days cycling through the Gila Wilderness, plagued by punctures and fatigue, boy was I glad to make it to Silver City! More a bustling little desert town than a city, it has a charming downtown area with quaint cafes, a thriving art scene and a great library. If it weren't for my determined drive to finish the Great Divide, I could have stayed here for a few days.

I was glad to get here and so was my ailing steed. I put her into the bike shop for much needed TLC and the team at Gila did a great job. New chain, new cassette, new brake blocks, brake cables etc etc. I was particularly glad to get some of Gila's special two year guaranteed puncture-free tubes fitted: 40% thicker than normal tubes with self-sealing lubricant to fix punctures from within. Well worth the extra expense. I've also downsized from 2.25 inch to 1.75 inch tyres as I'll be doing more road work than tracks now. The next day the tyres felt so nimble and, with the refreshed drivechain, the bike was riding like a dream. The only issue I had with narrower tyres was that they sank into the very sandiest tracks so I had to dismount (or fall off a couple of times) and push the heavy bike through the sand.

Trish kindly hosted me in Silver City and I had a wonderful stay. She is a great cook, has a lovely pack of dogs and a very comfortable home. A Kiwi by birth, Trish has lived right around the globe and I enjoyed hearing her stories of life in Australia, Papua New Guinea, South Africa and, of course, the States. 

As I said, the bike handled like a dream and I soon skipped across the desert south towards the Mexican border. I encountered a few roadrunners along the way but even they couldn't outpace the bike. A hurricane had reportedly hot Baja California and the fringes of the storm passed over New Mexico making for an overcast day with slightly cooler riding conditions.

Final crossing of the Continental Divide, #32. After weeks and weeks of riding at elevations of 7000ft + it has felt really strange to descend to 4-5000 ft. And it's certainly getting warmer at these lower altitudes.

Unexpectedly, my final night in the States was spent under a roof as the community centre at Hachita opens its doors to Great Divide bikers and Continental Divide hikers. For me, these basic conditions constitute real luxury. Not having to camp, not having to cook on a stove, not having to not wash - nice to have a break from these things. Best of all, there was a solitary beer in the fridge which I gratefully consumed in celebration of my time in the States.

The next morning the sky was clear and, travelling east, I had the breeze behind me. I made the 45 miles across to Columbus in just three hours and, after writing this post, I will ride the final three miles to cross the border to Puerto Palomas. It's tremendously exciting to be crossing into a new country and I'm looking forward to the challenge of speaking Spanish and navigating my way across a vast country.

Since riding south from the I-10 Interstate Highway there has hardly been any traffic except for border patrol trucks. This gives the area a slightly eerie atmosphere and I felt like I was travelling through a kind of no-man's land. At one point a helicopter passed over me and I feared they were buzzing me, a suspected Mexican migrant, trying to travel back south before Trump's dream of a wall is realised.

At this point I must repeat MY PLEA

Instead of building walls, dividing people and reacting to problems, OXFAM works in a proactive way to create sustainable livelihoods in impoverished parts of the world. This is what many of the places of origin of migrants have in common, poverty. If people can make a decent living in their original communities the motive for many migrations will be eliminated. Build communities not walls!