Mañana

  Mañana   19/12/2011.

 Looking back through my photographs has made me realise how long we have spent in Mexico. Initial plans fraught with fear and terror incited by uninformed prophets of doom make you want to beat a hasty retreat to another country.

The journey through Mexico has been an amazing friendly experience; no matter where you are there is always a happy face and a smile to go with it.

 Onwards to Veracruz, we have a contact there who has kindly offered his help and knowledge of the area. Mike emigrated here twenty years ago from Canada and it is not difficult to understand as to why.

 Veracruz and its surrounding area has much to offer, historically and from geographical point of view. There is everything here, and Mike generously spent time with us showing us around, it was greatly appreciated.

Laguna at Catemaco, near Veracruz.

All good things have to come to an end, and the journey has to continue forward. The crossing of the Darien Gap at Panama is a frequently discussed topic. There are only two options, fly the bike and yourself (expensive and efficient) or take a boat, save some cash, get the bike dropped in the sea and many other hazards! The boat option would appear cost effective, but there area few Pirate operators out there. This looks interesting: http://www.stahlratte.de and has been successfully used by other travellers. Contact has been made, 31/01/2012 is the date, and we now have a target to meet.

 Mike treats us once again to breakfast at his house, very nice, close to the Pacific Ocean. Thank you very much Mike, you were a great host with big heart, just like Mexico, that only made it harder to leave. We departed swiftly, there was a very strong northerly wind blowing, it started the day before, a storm was promised but did not materialise that night. It saved the rain for the journey to Oaxaca (wah-hah-kah), and it was not too long until the rain started. We stopped at a bus shelter to put on our water proof clothing and to scoff our (yummy, a quotation from the street vendor!)Jam filled pastry that we bought at the traffic que for the road toll. Continuing towards the town of Cosamaloapan, the road was slow due to very long wagon trains of sugar cane. There were five wagons to the train, pulled by one tractor, the problem being the speed restrictors that blight the Mexican roads near any town. We know them as sleeping policemen, they are of generous proportions and judging by the scars and the skid marks they have inflicted much damage to the speeding Mexican. The four wheel drive tractors struggled for traction once they had lost their momentum, and it was not long before I was having trouble with traction, as I discovered when I hit the brakes and found the front tyre had a puncture. Watching my mate disappear, I had no chance of catching him, so it was time to open the tool kit and get busy, it was the front wheel so not too much effort required. I wobbled to a suitable shelter away from the wind and rain and set to work. It was not long before I had a gathering of helpers, so I put one of them to good use and keep watch for my mate should he return. Tyre fixed no sign of my mate, but no problem we know where we are going.

Just a pin hole to start with., after 250 miles of scratching around mountain bends it very luckily lasted until camp.

If I had a signal on my mobile phone it would have been easy but I did not, just when you need it, huh!!! The rain and the wind continued, I managed another one hundred miles or so, the light fading so time for a hotel, once again when you need it you cannot find a hotel with internet access.

 Out of the corner of my eye I saw the palm leafed roof of this open barn by the river, it was a perfect shelter. I covered one side with the camouflage tarpaulin that I had with me and set my camp under the shelter. It rained all night, it was perfect, and I did not care how much it rained I was dry.

Estimated weight 3 kilos. I asked him to leave in my best Spanish.

Camo tarpaulin in place.

Home for the night (free).

 At sunrise the rain had passed, my camouflage camp was that good that the women making their way to the river to wash clothes failed to notice me.

 Although only one hundred and twenty kilometres from Oaxaca, the road reached elevations of eight thousand feet, the rain and mist persisted for most of the journey, dodging pot holes and several bags of cement that had fallen from a truck. The journey had taken six hours to reach Oaxaca, the sun is out, the temperature now up to 90 deg F, time to find an internet cafe and catch up with my mate.

Fried grass hoppers. A good alternative to baked beans. Eat 'em hot or cold.

 Oaxaca is a colonial city an easy going pace, it always seems to be party time when we arrive; the streets are busy with a celebration or two. Too make sure that rest is not possible fireworks of the loudest calibre are launched at any time of day or night, in most cases all that is heard and seen is a blinding white flash followed by huge bang, not unlike military warfare. The historic centre of Oaxaca is labyrinth of streets crammed with shops and market stalls selling just about everything you may need or not. Like many other Mexican cities a grid and one way system is employed that makes navigation easy. The call of the wild coastline was calling, and had to be answered, Puerto Escondido is not too far away.

Oaxaca from the nearby ruins of Monte Alban

The ruins date from 500 BC.                                             

En route to Puerto Escondido, camp site and small time coffee plantation.

Skinny dip in the river, a refreshing way to start the day!

The pinnacle of Mexican inventiveness. The kitchen blender.

Waste disposal unit.

 Puerto Escondido. Love at first sight???

Should we stay or go?

Bummer, the water is too warm to keep the beer cold.

It could be better, but not much. !!

The currant bun for those of you who do not recognise it.

  A board meeting is called. Is £5.00 too much to pay for a hotel room? We will deal with it tomorrow.