A long day of riding that started out with some of the most beautiful weather I've had this trip. After James and I managed to get Big Mama .jpg)
through the door out of the lobby, where they let us park last night, it was clear, with a few beautiful clouds, and just slightly chilly. After an hour, we had breakfast of some egg-and-some-other-stuff burritos at a taco stand where we talked a while with the woman running the place. Some good spanish practice for both of us before leaving the country. It was fun talking to people with James; we both have similar Spanish abilities, so if we put our heads together, we can explain just about anything.
The road that followed was by far the most windy (as in gusts, not twists) riding I've ever experienced. We were both leaning over the side of our bikes just to stay straight in our lane. Every truck that passed felt like getting shot with one of those air cannons you can get at toy stores. We had to travel at about 50mph, but the cars and more immune trucks went much faster, easily passing us.
A small truck ahead, coming in our direction, began to swerve. Perhaps a tire slightly came off the edge of the road, I don't know. After a couple swerves the tires started coming off the ground, higher with each change of direction. I start to slow down, but he's coming at me fast. The wind is blowing to the right, but if I swerve left to the opposite lane, I'll be headed straight into him if he regains control. As I am quickly, but calmly, considering this, a gust of wind picks up the truck's right side, and it starts rolling: 2 and a half complete rolls, down the road in my direction. The last half roll sent it halfway in the ditch to my right, upside down facing the road perpendicularly, with glass flying in all directions and its cargo - dozens of large buckets of motor oil - spilling and scattering all over the ditch. Meanwhile, I'm hitting the brakes hard, and come to a stop just before the crash site. This entire episode, from seeing the truck to stopping, probably lasted between 5 and 10 seconds.
As soon as I stopped, I grabbed the key and ran around to the case where I keep my first aid kit and some rope. While I fumble with the key, the driver climbs out of the broken window and gets up. On the other side, a boy of about 13 climbs out and also starts walking normally. This absolutely amazes me - I thought we were about to be pulling bodies out from under the truck. What further amazed me was that the driver acted as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened - he was walking around and talking, and was only concerned that the kid gets a ride back up the road to Nuevo Casas Grandes, the nearest town.
James, who was riding a couple hundred meters behind me, had just then come up after pulling over, and we were both shaking, and neither of us could put together enough spanish to really say anything at all. With only a few scratches from the broken glass, the boy got a ride to town, and the driver insisted everything is fine and we should go ahead. Needless to say, we rode very cautiously the rest of the day.
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The road to Agua Prieta was over a desolate landscape, going in and out of some steep but small mountains along the New Mexico and Arizona border. Agua Prieta is a small town, and slightly cleaner than most border towns, so we easily went through and got to the border.
Last Border Crossing:
There was a long line of cars waiting to cross the border, but before we joined them, we needed to cancel our vehicle import permits. An officer pointed us to the Mexican customs building where we had to pull around the back to the parking lot and take our papers and stickers inside. After a couple minutes in line, a woman asked if I was cancelling my permit (in spanish - she didn't speak English, but most of the other customs agents there did). She took us outside to the bikes, punched some buttons on her handheld computer thing, and printed a receipt.
We decided to cut the line by going around the side from the parking lot, and the officers directing traffic actually encouraged this - they kept directing us to go foreward all the way to the front. I'm not used to such a high-tech border. There are cameras and security equipment and all sorts of high-security stuff everywhere. When I got to the booth, it went something like this: I hand the guy my passport.
"Where are you coming from?"
"Central America - Guatemala, Belize...."
"Nice trip?"
"Great"
"Bringing anything back?"
"Nope"
"Ok then, welcome back"
At the other side, James and I said our goodbyes and he headed North while I headed East. I should have gotten gas in Douglas - there are very few gas stations around, and when I was dangerously low I found one just as they were closing, at 5pm.
Actually, I didn't really know what time it was at all. The time kept changing, between the time zones and daylight savings, which is a different day in Mexico than the US. I found out in Creel that my watch had been an hour off, probably for a few days. Then daylight savings changed, and then I passed through 3 different time zones over the next couple days. At least it's a little safer in the states to ride at night.
I found the National Forest on my map, and dropped the bike twice looking for a camping spot - half because the road was bad, and half because I was very tired after such a long day. As it got dark I set up my broken tent, which in turn broke even more, and made a nice campfire, which was easy being that everything is so dry here. No dinner tonight - I had a good Mexican lunch, and will have a nice big American breakfast tomorrow.
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through the door out of the lobby, where they let us park last night, it was clear, with a few beautiful clouds, and just slightly chilly. After an hour, we had breakfast of some egg-and-some-other-stuff burritos at a taco stand where we talked a while with the woman running the place. Some good spanish practice for both of us before leaving the country. It was fun talking to people with James; we both have similar Spanish abilities, so if we put our heads together, we can explain just about anything.The road that followed was by far the most windy (as in gusts, not twists) riding I've ever experienced. We were both leaning over the side of our bikes just to stay straight in our lane. Every truck that passed felt like getting shot with one of those air cannons you can get at toy stores. We had to travel at about 50mph, but the cars and more immune trucks went much faster, easily passing us.
A small truck ahead, coming in our direction, began to swerve. Perhaps a tire slightly came off the edge of the road, I don't know. After a couple swerves the tires started coming off the ground, higher with each change of direction. I start to slow down, but he's coming at me fast. The wind is blowing to the right, but if I swerve left to the opposite lane, I'll be headed straight into him if he regains control. As I am quickly, but calmly, considering this, a gust of wind picks up the truck's right side, and it starts rolling: 2 and a half complete rolls, down the road in my direction. The last half roll sent it halfway in the ditch to my right, upside down facing the road perpendicularly, with glass flying in all directions and its cargo - dozens of large buckets of motor oil - spilling and scattering all over the ditch. Meanwhile, I'm hitting the brakes hard, and come to a stop just before the crash site. This entire episode, from seeing the truck to stopping, probably lasted between 5 and 10 seconds.
As soon as I stopped, I grabbed the key and ran around to the case where I keep my first aid kit and some rope. While I fumble with the key, the driver climbs out of the broken window and gets up. On the other side, a boy of about 13 climbs out and also starts walking normally. This absolutely amazes me - I thought we were about to be pulling bodies out from under the truck. What further amazed me was that the driver acted as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened - he was walking around and talking, and was only concerned that the kid gets a ride back up the road to Nuevo Casas Grandes, the nearest town.
James, who was riding a couple hundred meters behind me, had just then come up after pulling over, and we were both shaking, and neither of us could put together enough spanish to really say anything at all. With only a few scratches from the broken glass, the boy got a ride to town, and the driver insisted everything is fine and we should go ahead. Needless to say, we rode very cautiously the rest of the day.
The road to Agua Prieta was over a desolate landscape, going in and out of some steep but small mountains along the New Mexico and Arizona border. Agua Prieta is a small town, and slightly cleaner than most border towns, so we easily went through and got to the border.
Last Border Crossing:
There was a long line of cars waiting to cross the border, but before we joined them, we needed to cancel our vehicle import permits. An officer pointed us to the Mexican customs building where we had to pull around the back to the parking lot and take our papers and stickers inside. After a couple minutes in line, a woman asked if I was cancelling my permit (in spanish - she didn't speak English, but most of the other customs agents there did). She took us outside to the bikes, punched some buttons on her handheld computer thing, and printed a receipt.
We decided to cut the line by going around the side from the parking lot, and the officers directing traffic actually encouraged this - they kept directing us to go foreward all the way to the front. I'm not used to such a high-tech border. There are cameras and security equipment and all sorts of high-security stuff everywhere. When I got to the booth, it went something like this: I hand the guy my passport.
"Where are you coming from?"
"Central America - Guatemala, Belize...."
"Nice trip?"
"Great"
"Bringing anything back?"
"Nope"
"Ok then, welcome back"
At the other side, James and I said our goodbyes and he headed North while I headed East. I should have gotten gas in Douglas - there are very few gas stations around, and when I was dangerously low I found one just as they were closing, at 5pm.
Actually, I didn't really know what time it was at all. The time kept changing, between the time zones and daylight savings, which is a different day in Mexico than the US. I found out in Creel that my watch had been an hour off, probably for a few days. Then daylight savings changed, and then I passed through 3 different time zones over the next couple days. At least it's a little safer in the states to ride at night.
I found the National Forest on my map, and dropped the bike twice looking for a camping spot - half because the road was bad, and half because I was very tired after such a long day. As it got dark I set up my broken tent, which in turn broke even more, and made a nice campfire, which was easy being that everything is so dry here. No dinner tonight - I had a good Mexican lunch, and will have a nice big American breakfast tomorrow.
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