Part I

Part II


My Journey part III

Okay, it has been like a year and a half now since this stuff happend, and probably 6 months or more since I wrote the last installment, so my detail may lack a little now.

I left Oaxaca that morning, and rode through a good hundred miles or so of some of the twistiest most beautiful mountain roads you can imagine. This part of the journey would have sucked in a car, but on a motorcycle it was all you could ask for. I got so used to the curves that I started taking them so sharply my foot pegs were hitting the road. This with a huge ice chest strapped to the back and stuff bungie corded all over it. I stopped at some point to look at the giant Maguey plants that are grown all over the place and used in the production of Mezcal which is the liquor chiefly produced in Oaxaca.

I noticed that I was driving excessively, uh, stupidly. I was driving like a nut, passing people taking corners extra fast. I was aware that I wasn't being as cautious as I should be, but for some reason, I kept doing it. I mean, I would slow down when I noticed it, but the next think I knew I was doing it again.

Next thing I remember I was in some town in the flat lands, desert, incredible heat. I pulled over to some little roadside food stands to get something to eat. I went into one of them and saw what looked like the head of a horse behind glass with most of the meat carved off it, so you could clearly see the entire jawbone with the teeth still in it etc... If you are thinking disgusting, you got the description accurate. The lady was already looking at me as if to say "Yes..." so I ordered some cheese tacos. I asked her if it was a horses head, and she said "No, es de res" which I found out later means steer. I don't know it looked like a horse to me. I choked down the tacos and beat it.

In the state of Chiapas, I saw a car ahead of me that looked like it had been stopped in the middle of the road taking off. This isn't unusual since cars always stop on highways here. For military checkpoints, cows, whatever. I had just been stopped by a bunch of kids, after turning onto the wrong road and trying to turn around. They wanted to scrape my importation sticker off my motorcycle because they said I didn't need it anymore. They really insisted, and I thought maybe I was supposed to remove it, but I said no. I guess they wanted a few pesos for scraping it off for me. As I approached the spot where the car had been detained, I noticed a big group of people on either side of the road, and they stretched out a rope with little red rags tied on to it across the road. "Great" I though, this is one of those deals where they pull you over and rob you blind and if you grovel they let you leave alive. I decided to stop knowing not what else to do. It turns out they wanted donations for something. Not wanting to contribute to a political cause that I didn't understand and might very well be against, I said no and tried to explain the reasons. They finally lowered the rope and I was away.

I rode all day long in terrible heat, and lo and behold came to the border of Guatamala before dark. I had no idea I would make it this far in one day, and since the town I was in was so horribly depressing, I decided to cross the border rather than spend the night here. I drove around confused for awhile, and finally some guy, a "border guide" found me and offered his help. He took me threw a bewildering bunch of places and paperwork, and cost me about $50.00 in the process for fees here and there which no doubt bought someone a lot of beers. During the process I met 3 guys from Utah, about 40 years old towing a big boat. They were going to Costa Rica to start a charter fishing business. Their Spanish was worse than mine, and since they had a boat, and there were 3 of them I got through a lot quicker. When I got to the other side it was time to pay my guide. I only had about $5.00 in guatamalan money after going through the border, and he wanted all of it, I gave him $2.00.

I began to look around and wondered if I had made a mistake in not staying on the other side. This place was gloomy and depressing and hot. I had three dollars, there were no banks open. I had asked the "guide" about cheap hotels and he had pointed me towards some part of town where I went and found an absolute hole for $3/night. I asked if I could pay in US money and he said ok, so I dug out some quarters and dimes and paid with some of the guatamalan money. I took the rest and found a restaurant. Well, a house of someone who serves food. I ordered something I never heard of which turned out to be a paper thin steak. I don't even want to think of what it looked or smelled like before they cooked it, but it didn't taste too awfully bad. As I left the restaurant I saw the guys from Utah by the border arguing with someone. I went to help, their Spanish was worse than mine, they had been charged about $100.00 and were mad about it. The guy was saying it was for fees etc.. etc.. They finally gave up and went to find a hotel. I ran into them a few hours later trying to maneuver their boat around a corner in the middle of town. They were going to drive straight through. They couldn't find a hotel with a courtyard for their boat.

I decided to have a few beers in the hotel since I had a few more quarters and I knew the guy would accept them. I was on my second or third in the "lobby" looking over my maps when I saw a guy walk buy on the sidewalk and look in. I instantly could tell he was trouble. His eyes were bloodshot red and he was staggering. He walked on by, then a few seconds later came in with 2 other guys in the same shape. They sat down at a different table and ignored me, but one of the few things I could hear them saying was "Gringo". After a few seconds, without making eye contact, I got up and took my beer to my room.

I didn't sleep much that night. A room just big enough for a bed, no windows or fans, it had to be a hundred degrees out and very humid. I took a shower at about 3am and slept for a few hours and got up at about 7:00. No banks were open yet, but I had a little gas so I headed out.

I found a little town and went to a bank where it took me about an hour to cash a $100.00 travelers check. No ATM's here.

Drove all through Guatamala along the coast on a horrible, but straight road. Horrible cause it was covered with trucks carrying sugar cane, and if you got behind them, pieces of agricultural material would fly into your eyes. Halfway to El-Salvador I saw something that freaked me out. A circle K. A big completely normal looking Circle K in the middle of nowhere Guatamala. I had to pull over, though I needed nothing. I went in and it looked like I was in Oklahoma again. I decided to get a large fountain drink with ice, something I hadn't had in a while. No ice, no fountain drinks. Now I remembered I was in Guatamala.

I made it to the border of El-Salvador early afternoon, like 2 or 3, and it took 2 or 3 hours to cross it. And cost a bunch of money again. So I headed on not knowing where I would stop in El-Salvador. I took a highway that looked deserted, but on my map appeared to be a major highway. It turned out after 50 or 60 miles that this road had been heavily damaged during the El-Salvador civil war a few years back (I found this out later). The road would be perfectly beautiful, curing around towering cliffs that dumped straight down into the ocean, then all of a sudden, wham its a dirt road covered with potholes. This continued for a long long time. If you were going to fast when you hit the dirt road part, it could be trouble because of all the curves. There was nothing on this road and it was starting to get dark and I was worried. Finally, just as the last of the sun left, I found a motel.

It turned out to be a tourist resort type place, the nearest beach to San Salvador the capital. The guy working there was very very sincere and helpful. He looked me right in the eye and said very seriously "If you need any help with anything, just let me know. I mean it. Just call me if you have any problems." He seemed very professional and proud of his place. The room wasn't so great but the place had a nice pool under some Mango trees. I went to the hotel's outdoor beachside restaurant and had a dinner of fried bananas with cream. It was very very good. I had never had it before.

Later I met 4 local guys while swimming in the pool and struck up a conversation. One of the guys spoke a little English, and between his English and my Spanish we talked for several hours. This guy LOVED the United States. He knew way more about US history than I did. He was telling me all the great things about Lady Bird Johnson and other stuff. Blew my mind. I felt a little embarrased because he kept praising the US so much. At some point a Mango fell from one of the trees into the pool. One of these guys picked it up and gave it to me and told me to bite it. I didn't believe that you could eat the skin and all, and I made him try it first. It was really good. When I got up the next day I went and looked at the beach. The sand was black. This was a naturally black sand beach. It was really bizarre. It wasn't dirty at all, just black.

I headed towards Honduras, and just a little before I got there, I decided I had had enough of 3 hour border crossings that cost $50.00 each so I decided to turn around. It was almost Semana Santa which is a big holiday in Latin America and I knew my friends in Oaxaca weren't working or going to school, so I decided to head back so I could spend the holiday with people who were familiar with it.

I turned on a road which wasn't marked on my map and rode on it for awhile. I knew it would have to come out on the major highway that goes through San Salvador back to Guatamala via a different route. After riding on this dirt road for an hour or so, I saw a band playing on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I had to stop. There was a guitarrist or two, some other instruments, don't remember what. I asked them to play me a song, and after getting over the shock of seeing a gringo on a motorcycle in such an unlikely spot, the played a little song. It was nice and I told them so. I decided to play a little harmonica for them in return. They just looked at me confused. So I said bye and rode on.

I finally found the highway to San Salvador. San Salvador is a really nice city. In fact I really liked El Salvador in general. Much more than Guatamala. The border people were very professional and took no money from me. Only on the Guatamala side did I lose out. It was the same exiting, I spent nothing leaving El Salvador, but got screwed entering Guatamala.

Halfway through Guatamala, it was getting rainy and late, and I stopped at a little roadside hotel. (Guatamala is covered in Volcanoes by the way) I stayed the night there with nothing to do but watch TV. I purchased dinner from them, which turns out to be helpings from whatever the hotel guy's wife made for dinner. It was pretty good though, eggs and stuff. I chatted with the owner of the hotel some. The next morning as I was getting ready to leave the hotel owner began talking to me and wanted to show me his town. So he took me around and showed me the little nearby town and we went and talked to some of his friends and stuff. It was kind of neat.

I rode through Guatamala City. This is a big major city and I got really really lost. I asked directions everywhere and no one knew where I should go. Kind of scary I ended up on a partially completed highway somehow. I don't think any traffic was supposed to be there. Good think I was on an enduro type motorcycle.

Actually, I think maybe all this was in San Salvador, I am not sure. Anyway I finally made it through and drove ALL day to get from the middle of Guatamala to the border of Mexico. It only took me a few hours to make the same trip the other direction but it was because of the long straight coastal road. Now I was in some serious mountains. It was late afternoon when I made it to the border and I didn't expect any problems, other than getting screwed again on the Guatamala side, which I did. when I got to the Mexican side, the guy seemed confused by some things and took a long time with my stuff and began helping other people. Finally I got his attention and asked what was going on. He told me I was gonna have to wait until tomorrow to cross. I was scared now, there were no hotels or anything in the region, and I had already left Guatamala. He said the guy who gives out the vehicle importation stickers was already gone. I said, wait, and took him to my bike and showed him the sticker those little bastards in Chiapas tried to scrape off until I physically restrained them. He said "Oh, ok then". and let me go.

I came to a town right about dark, and thought about stopping. San Cristobal was supposed to be a nice town, but was another hour or so away. And one thing everyone always tells you in Mexico is to never ever drive after dark. I am not sure why. I decided, that if everyone was so dead set against it, there must be something interesting there, so I headed on. This may somehow relate to the fact that I had been driving like a lunatic. I don't know why, but I was really disregarding my personal well-being this entire trip. Riding in the desert all day with no helmet, no sunscreen. And now this. I don't know why, but I felt really confident and absolutely fearless about all these things.

I am driving now and it is dark and the road is pitch black, so my headlights hardly do anything at all. It is a very dark night and once or twice I am fortunate enough to notice a cow or goat in the highway before it is too late. A very strange feeling came over me. I felt kind of a thrill which I soon recognized to be the same thing I remember feeling the first time I walked a long ways from home as a child. I remember my brother and I walking, I think to a fireworks stand, down the highway from our house about a half or a quarter mile. We were scared by every car that drove by, and waved thinking that if the person waved back they were friendly and wouldn't harm us. If they didn't wave, we watched to make sure they weren't slowing down. It was that kind of new adventure thrill of doing something you shouldn't be doing type thing which I hadn't felt since I was a very young child. Sure it was a stupid thing to do, but it's my life and I am very glad I did it.

I arrived in San Cristobal to find that every hotel was booked due to Semana Santa (the holiday). I looked here and there and there and here and everything was either booked, or really really expensive. I finally saw a little open door, didn't look like a hotel really, but I went in and they said they had a room. I could store my bike inside, and the room was very cheap and quite nice. Just lucky I guess. It was about 10 pm now I think and walked into downtown to find some food. I only found one restaurant open, I went in and all the tables were occupied. One table had some european looking guy alone, so I asked if I could sit there and he said ok. I asked if spoke English. Yes. I asked where he was from. Oklahoma. That was quite a shock. His name was Derek.. I forget his last name at the moment. But he was an English teacher in San Angel. A little beach town I had heard of in the state of Oaxaca. I was planning on visiting there on my way out of Oaxaca city, and I got his information and told him I would look him up.

After eating, I was headed back to my little place. I didn't remember which street it was on. After 10 or 11, all the doors are closed to the street so you have to knock. All the doors look alike. All the streets look alike. I am a little worried. I finally find a door which I am fairly certain is correct, and I begin beating on it. I hear a bunch of commotion and people yelling. I finally figure out they are telling me I have to push a button to wake up the lady upstairs. It was the correct location.

The next day I head to Oaxaca. Pretty uneventful, I drive past the taco stand with the horse head again, but don't stop. While driving through those mountains for a hundred miles or so outside of Oaxaca, I realize I am low on gas. And I have no idea if there are any gas stations for the next 50 miles. There isn't much in those mountains. I am on reserve. The miles pass by and I am starting to worry. I decide, the hell with it, I'm not gonna worry, if I run out of gas, I will have to figure out how to get more. I enjoy the ride. The miles continue to pass. I am expecting the engine to die at any minute. I have no idead what I will do if this happens, I haven't seen a soul for 30 or 40 miles. Finally I come to a tiny town. No gas station. I have very little money by the way. I ask someone on the side of the road where I can get gas. He says two houses up. I go two houses up and the guy yells at his wife and she goes and gets a 5 gallon can and a rusty funnel and pours some gas in my tank. Not too much cause I don't have much money. I am glad to have the gas, but worried about the quality and whether I have enough money to buy enough gas to get me to Oaxaca. I pay the lady for just enough gas that I MIGHT make it. Two or three miles later I come across a large gas station. I pull in and give them my last few pesos then ride the rest of the way to Oaxaca.


Then I went back through Mexico, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and back to Oklahoma.

The End

Okay, when I have more time I will fill out some of the flat spots in the story.


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