Skip Hunt Fine Art Photography

Skip Hunt Signature Photo Series

Abacus from Skip Hunt on Square Market

Skip Hunt Prints

New Skip Hunt Vagabond: MEXICO 2009 Book Available NOW!

Oh man! I am SOOOOO happy with out great this book printed! As many of you know, I tend to go for the most saturated and rich coloring in my images which is not always easy to transfer in print. Well, I am pleased to report that the printing is absolutely beautiful! The images just leap off the page.

I bought the soft cover for myself, but I think I would prefer the hard cover on my next ordering. I actually lowered the price on my hard cover options to encourage that choice over the soft cover option, but it looks pretty sweet too.

Likely, I am biased but I’m confident this would make an amazing Holiday gift for yourself or anyone you think would like to take an amazing journey on a motorcycle through Mexico. Think about it, 70+ images and the best of the best journal entries all in one book!

The deadline for ground shipping to get your Skip Hunt Vagabond: MEXICO 2009 book in time for holiday delivery is Dec. 10th.

Order yours today!

Click HERE for preview and ordering

New Interview!

Did an interview for HomeWorkShop.com (evidently a popular destination for interior designers, and such!) If interested, click HERE

On the Road Again... Soon!

Getting excited now! Got my new front tire yesterday, and a new chain, new back tire, and new front fork seals a month ago.

Now dealing with the last few days of anxiety about going... always get that for some reason... then after I'm finally "on the road"... anxiety melts away into sublime vagabond Nirvana. Ahhhhhh!!!!

I shot mostly black & white on my last Mexican adventure, but I think I'm going to get back to HOT vivid color (like the Xochimilco image on my first post. Here's one of the b/w images from the last adventure:

NEW! Skip Hunt Vagabond Travelblog here: http://skiphuntvagabond.tumblr.com

Stay Tuned!

Skip Hunt's Mexico: "Colores"

Motorcycle tour Jan/Feb 2009

Got a new book forsale!

Skip Hunt | Ph...

Portfolio: Volume One

By Skip Hunt

Book Preview

Photo Gallery of Orizaba, Mexico

The link above is to a little online photo gallery from Orizaba, Mexico. You'll need your monitor res settings at at least 1024x768. If you're using a smallish monitor, or have your screen resolution set low and can't see the bottom thumbnails when vertical images are displayed, just use the little control panel on the page to the bottom right-hand side to navigate the gallery or hit the little play button to start an automatic slide show. Disfruta!

ps. next gallery presentation coming after a few more miles down the road and likely Puebla.

Video Clips from Catemaco to Orizaba

You will need Quicktime 7 installed in order to view the clip above since I compressed it with the ipod video settings. But it's free and plays back video much better anyway so it'd be a good idea to upgrade anyhow. Just go to http://www.quicktime.com and download the latest version for your operating system.


These clips were shot at full frame, full motion video with a little Panasonic point and shoot camera. I reduced the size to make it more web friendly. ;-) Still, it's nearly 11MB so consider yourself warned. ;-)

I've had a few problems with a little sickness, some ongoing problems with the bike I'm trying to resolve and will detail in my written entries, and a little laziness :-) But, I will get caught up on the writing from the desert when and if I get there. ;-)

I do have one more new photo gallery ready to upload to tide you over for now.

Hasta!

Skip

Photo Gallery of Catemaco, Mexico

The link above is to a little online photo gallery from Catemaco, Mexico. You'll need your monitor res settings at at least 1024x768. If you're using a smallish monitor, or have your screen resolution set low and can't see the bottom thumbnails when vertical images are displayed, just use the little control panel on the page to the bottom right-hand side to navigate the gallery or hit the little play button to start an automatic slide show. Disfruta!

ps. next gallery presentation coming after a few more miles down the road and likely Puebla.

Video Clips from Veracruz to Tlacotalpan

You will need Quicktime 7 installed in order to view the clip above since I compressed it with the ipod video settings. But it's free and plays back video much better anyway so it'd be a good idea to upgrade anyhow. Just go to http://www.quicktime.com and download the latest version for your operating system.


These clips were shot at full frame, full motion video with a little Panasonic point and shoot camera. I reduced the size to make it more web friendly. ;-) Still, it's nearly 33MB so consider yourself warned. ;-)

I've had a few problems with a little sickness, some ongoing problems with the bike I'm trying to resolve and will detail in my written entries, and a little laziness :-) But, I will get caught up on the writing from the desert when and if I get there. ;-)

I do have two new photo galleries ready to upload and another video to tide you over for now.

Hasta!

Skip

Photo Gallery of Veracruz to Tlacotalpan, Mexico

The link above is to a little online photo gallery from Veracruz to Tlacotalpan, Mexico. You'll need your monitor res settings at at least 1024x768. If you're using a smallish monitor, or have your screen resolution set low and can't see the bottom thumbnails when vertical images are displayed, just use the little control panel on the page to the bottom right-hand side to navigate the gallery or hit the little play button to start an automatic slide show. Disfruta!

ps. next gallery presentation coming after a few more miles down the road and likely Catemaco.

"Devil Boy" ~ January 17-19, 2006

(If you would like to get an automatic email when the motorcycle blog is updated with new content, there's a place on the right margin of the blog that allows you to subscribe for free!)

Mexico ~ "Devil Boy" ~ January 17-19, 2006

When will I finally learn to stop and ask directions when in doubt? Left Tampico on a beautiful day and had plenty of time to get to my next destination without rushing. Worked my way through downtown dodging wicked taxi and bus drivers, etc. Figured I'd just head back through the main thoroughfare and just wait for a sign pointing toward Poza Rica. Never saw one. Before I knew it, I'd made it all the way back to the Northern border of Tampico and had just passed the sign wishing me
"Buen Viaje".

I little rattled due to fear of that stretch of highway between Tampico and Poza Rica that's famed for being "rough", a motorcyclist killer, and riddled by constant potholes and cops on the take. Add to that, I'd just spent nearly 45 minutes dodging other motorists of all persuasions. My nerves were already shot and I was heading the wrong way when I spotted a couple bikes parked under a canopy/taco stand. Two guys waved at me and I assumed they were also touring so I turned around to compare notes and collect myself so I could get pointed in the right direction. Turns out they weren't touring at all. And, the bikes were those big crotch-rocket types. They were locales and didn't speak ingles, but they told me I had to go back the way I'd just came and cross some toll bridge, etc. All the way back through to the opposite side of downtown.

Oh shi'ite! Didn't want to hear that. Just then, I saw a sign pointing towards Poza Rica and mentioned it to the fellas. They said I didn't want to go that way because I'd have to pay a toll and it's the long way that goes all the way around the city, etc. I told them I didn't mind paying a toll or a little extra riding as long as I was going the right direction. They wouldn't hear of it. Insisted I ride with then and they'd show me the way. I tried to back out and told them I didn't want to ride back through all the traffic, etc. Tried to play to their macho side and told them their motorcycles were bigger and faster than mine and I wouldn't be able to keep up. Didn't work. They insisted we "ride" like a gang I guess. Not wanting to look like a wuss, I told them I'd ride with them, but only to the toll bridge.

The first light we all pulled up at had this large young man, at least 350 pounds with a round little head. He was wearing a full skin-tight bright-red body suit that covered him from head to toe like one of those toddler pajama get-ups. On his head was sewn two little red horns and he was holding a jug of something. I kept looking around to make sure no one was getting ready to slam into me. I nearly soiled myself and fell over on the bike when he spewed some fluid out of his mouth and lit it on fire with a small torch. The flame he threw went out at least 20 feet and I could feel the heat from the flame. What the...?! I thought to myself, "Jesus! Who gave this insane person a jug of flammable liquid, a torch, and dressed his poor ass up like that? Then I noticed that after he stopped gagging from the fuel he'd ingested, he began making his way from car to car with a little metal can for tips. Dang! For that show I should've given him a few pesos for originality... but the light changed and my Mexican motorcycle posse were peeling out leaving me in the dust.. no time to dig for change... I was just hoping that demonic clown wasn't some kind of twisted omen.

It was nice to see more of Tampico that I didn't know exhisted, but the ride was pretty harrowing. I had to try and keep up because eventually I was completely lost again. They kept weaving in and out, lane splitting between trucks and busses, etc. They'd even burn rubber at lights to show off, and ride not even looking at the road when a sexy gringa was walking along the sidewalk. I swear I saw those guys almost get nailed by people parked along the side of the road flinging open their car doors. Every time they'd swerve at the last minute and miss the collision. Really wish I'd just been a wuss and taken that longer toll road.. but it was exciting and I would've missed the devil boy had I not taken the challenge.

Obviously I made it. They did me a buen viaje and suerte as I took off and over this huge cable bridge over the port inlet and to the toll gate. Next was getting pass the stretch of highway I feared most on this coast. But, I have to say.. it wasn't really that bad. Sure there were potholes, but not so many I couldn't just swerve out the way. The whole ride went pretty well actually and no problems with cops at all. Guess I got lucky.

I'd stopped to rest a bit and get a drink somewhere inbetween. The lady who owned the little palapa asked me where I was going and I told her I wasn't sure yet. I pulled out my map and asked if there was a place near the El Tajin ruinas that'd be nice to spend a night. She mentioned a place called Papantla and said it was right be the ruinas. So I said, "Well, looks like I'm going to Papantla then to answer your question."

I asked her how long it would take to get to Xalapa from there and she asked a younger boy wearing a Metallica t-shirt. They argued a bit and then he said it would take at least 2 days. "Two days? You have to be kidding me! It's looks very nearby on the map and I could get all the way back up to Austin, Texas in 2 days if I humped it." They argued some more and she told him he was stupid. He argued some more and said it's up in the mountains with rough roads and lots of curves. I didn't want to hear that, but I figured I'd just deal with it when the time came and paid for my beers.

I thought maybe I'd just stay the night in Poza Rica, but after about 10 minutes of that town, there was nothing remotely inviting about it. I didn't see all of it, but from what I saw, Papantla had to be better.

After several kilometers and starting up into some mountainous area, it didn't look like there was any sign of a town or city coming up so I headed back to ask directions. I was told I was on the right track so I just kept going. Soon I rounded a corner and a wonderful quaint little town opened up. Wow! what a surprise! Definitely a cool little town with colorful architecture and steep cobblestone roads. Sort of a cross between San Christobal de las Casas, Taxco, and Guanajuato. I was pretty elated and decided immediately I'd stay more than a night.

Didn't take long to find a decent room with parking either. After passing through Poza Rica only 20 kilometers away I wasn't expected much, but what a great surprise.. and only 5 kilometers away from the ruins.

After I'd unloaded the bike, some young gringo dudes in the room next to mine came out to say hello. I'd seen them in Tampico on the street that morning. I remembered them because in 3 days they were the ONLY gringos I saw in that town. I asked them when they'd left and how long it took them to get here. They said they left around the same time I did and had already been there for almost 2 hours. I asked, "How the hell did you beat me here by almost two hours?". Then I remembered having to cross the entire city twice and the devil boy.. oops.. that's how they beat me. ;-)


I noticed their car had Vermont tags, but one of them said he was from Boston. They were extremely excited to be traveling in Mexico and planned to travel around for 6 months. I was pretty excited for them too and started telling them about all the places they should definitely visit. "By the way, how much dinero do you think that's going to cost you?". "We've got about $3000 dollars between the three of us for the six months." Ouch! Someone forgot to tell them Mexico isn't quite as cheap as it used to be. But, they said they'd camp a lot to save money. I launched into stories about places they could go and save money and told them how great a time I knew they were going to have.

They just kept asking me questions and seemed to listen intently to all my stories. Eventually, I really got tired of hearing my same old tired stories and hearing the sound of my own voice, but they seemed to dig it and even offered me beer and bought me coffee. I told them they should hang onto their pesos if they were going to make the money stretch that far.

One of them who looked the youngest had long curly red hair. He seemed to the the most excited out the bunch and started telling me about their own "story" thus far. He seemed particularly thrilled that the young pretty Mexican girls were whistling at him on the street. He said, "That doesn't really happen to me at home! And these girls were really pretty too!". I told him the girls don't whistle at my scowling ass anymore, but that's cool you're having a great time of it.

Later we were walking down the street and heard some cat-call whistling, we looked back and saw a couple young Mexican girls giggling. He said, "See! I told you! They're whistling at me here too!" We heard the whistling again, and I looked back. It wasn't the little chicas whistling at him.. it was the Mexican farm boys. The girls were just embarrassed and giggled. The Mexican boys were spiraling their fingers in the air as if they were tossing long red lochs of hair. I think they were just making fun of his long hair, but he didn't look back that time and I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. :-)

We all met up every now and then throughout the day. And I spent most of the time exploring around taking photos. The next night I'd seen them drinking beers on the plaza and asked them how much they were paying. They said, "Not too bad, just around 15 to 20 pesos a bottle". I said,

"Ok, if you want to save money on beer this is how you do it. Just go to a little tienda and buy a liter. You'll have to pay a little more for the bottle deposit, but when you return the bottle to them they give you the deposit back. That's where I'm going now... grab a liter of Indio and drink it back at the hotel."

They all decided they'd tag along and see how this works. Not one of them spoke any Spanish so they were watching intently. Two of them went to the tienda near the hotel. I told them, that one only has Corona and looks like it's a tourist liquor store so the price will likely be higher. They didn't listen and thought it'd be nicer if the shop was closer to the hotel for returning bottles. The guy from Boston decided to tag along with me instead, because he wanted Indio beer too.

"You see.. this place is more of a local tienda, the prices are lower and posted on the wall."

Back at the room we compared notes.. yep.. they paid almost double what we did. But they didn't seem to mind and kept going back for more liters. I hadn't finished my one liter when they'd all finished their second liters. Ahhh to be young again with a fresh liver! ;-)

We all hung out a good while telling stories and chain smoking. They wanted to know if I could help them find some marajuanna since I spoke Spanish. And, wanted to know if it'd be dangerous. I told them I really didn't know for sure, but their best bet was too find the young Mexican hippies who where playing the drums near the plaza and ask them. Told them the slang for it in Spanish was "mota" but that I wasn't really interested dealing with the hassle myself.

About that time we decided to grab some tacos and I showed them where there was a decent indoor taco counter inside the market. They couldn't believe they'd been paying 3 times more for less food in the restaurant. "You see, if you pay attention and stay out of touristy looking restaurants on plazas.. you might just make your $3 grand last six months."

They were all fired up about the money they saved and decided to go look for mota and tequila. I went back to the room, recommended my favorite tequila (Herradura Repasado) and wished them luck. My guess is that 6 months is going to be whittled down to about 1 month if tequila has anything to do with it. But I didn't listen to anyone either when I was their age. Christ! Did I just say, "when I was their age?" Never thought I'd utter those words. Damn I must be gettin' old. ;-)


They were all up bright and early the next morning. And though they looked a bit ragged and unbathed.. it looked like they'd handled the tequila just fine. Told them I'd meet them at the little coffee shop after I'd showered and taken my bottle back to the tienda. When I got to the tienda the girl wouldn't give me my deposit back. She said my friends had returned their bottle in my place. She said they told her I would return my bottle elsewhere, etc. I knew this wasn't true because none of them spoke a lick of Spanish. She owed me 12 pesos and told her if she took bottles back from them they didn't buy from her that was her problem and not mine... now give me my deposito please." She finally gave in and gave me my deposit, but when I got to the coffee shop they asked what took me so long. I told them some returned their bottles back at the wrong tienda and took my deposit instead. The red-headed kid started to laugh and said, "That was me.. sorry. But, I made an extra 6 pesos profit than the other tienda was going to give me." I told him, "Well yes, but that 6 pesos is going to come out of that poor girl's pocket when the boss finds out." He laughed and said, "Oops! Guess we should go over a couple streets so she doesn't see me!". I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Are you serious? Why don't you just give her the money back and take your bottle to the right tienda? I don't want to sound like your Dad, and I'm certainly no moral cop... look... you can do what you want, but if I could offer you a little advice. I'm not really that superstitious, but it seems like every time I've got one over on a clerk or someone.. where I knew keeping the money or whatever was just wrong and did it anyway.. I ALWAYS end up paying somehow, somewhere right afterwards. I get a flat, or get robbed, or something. Now I don't know if it's ever really connected, but if I were you, this early into your trip into a foreign land... I'd certainly not risk getting pulled over by the Karma Police over 6 lousy pesos."

The kid from Boston shook his head in disgust that the red-headed kid was going to keep the pesos. "Dude, you should really take that girl her money back." He was decided not to join the other two for their mota search and tequila the night before and went back to the hotel with me since the manager had asked us to be back in by 11PM so that he could lock the gate and go to bed since it was a week night. The other two said they'd have no problem climbing up the wall and sneaking back in later. My guess is the kid from Boston is going to make out just fine after he eventually finds a way to bail the other two out of a Mexican jail. Oops! There I go again.. sounding like someone's Dad. ;-)

I don't know if they returned the money or not, but just to give my own karmic stature a bump.. I tipped the old guy at the coffee shop a bit larger than usual. I was a little bummed that I didn't get a chance to see the Indians in the region climb this giant pole that goes up about 3 or 4 stories, and spiral down on ropes while another Indian dude plays a flute. Just as I exited the coffee shop, the flute began to play, and 5 Indians began to scale the pole next to the church. Looks like the karmic tip must've worked. :-)

Next stop Xalapa (I just hope it doesn't really take two days to get there)

Video Clips from Papantla to Xalapa

You will need Quicktime 7 installed in order to view the clip above since I compressed it with the ipod video settings. But it's free and plays back video much better anyway so it'd be a good idea to upgrade anyhow. Just go to http://www.quicktime.com and download the latest version for your operating system.

These clips were shot at full frame, full motion video with a little Panasonic point and shoot camera. I reduced the size to make it more web friendly. ;-)

Photo Gallery Papantla to Xalapa, Mexico

The link above is to a little online photo gallery from Papantla to Xalapa. You'll need your monitor res settings at at least 1024x768. Disfruta!

ps. next gallery presentation coming after a few more miles down the road.

From Texas to Tampico, Mexico Jan. 12-17, 2006

The link above is to a little online photo gallery from the first leg of this trip. You'll need your monitor res settings at at least 1024x768. Disfruta!

(If you would like to get an automatic email when the motorcycle blog is updated with new content, there's a place on the right margin of the blog that allows you to subscribe for free!)

Mexico ~ January 12-17, 2006

I don't know why it always takes be several hours to get ready and pack for one of these trips. It's always check, re-check, tighten all the bolts twice, etc. I mean, it's not like I'm going off into the void or anything. You can always find just about anything you need in countries like Mexico (except decent chain lube). But, at 2AM I was finally convinced there was no more packing and rechecking to be done.

Naturally, I didn't get on the road as early as I'd hoped. There was the last minute drop off at the post office that ended up taking an extra hour, etc. But soon I was blazing down the highway South.

The weather was a bit ominous which didn't help my launch jitters. It was overcast, grey, windy, and a bit of chill in the air. As I neared the border there was a huge fire to my right that sent a blackened-grey smoke cloud up into the already ashen sky. The smoke pillar's torso seemed to glow a dirty yellowish brown and I tried not to look at it. It sort of made me uneasy for some reason.

Every border crossing crossing I've encountered so far as been pretty straight forward with the signage. Such was not the case near Reynosa. I think there are several crossing points, but the one I happened to land at was called something like Fhatt I think. I really was skittish about crossing this time. Didn't know why, but I thought I might spend the night on the U.S. side and cross in the morning when I'd be fresh. Figured I'd pick a room close to the bridge so that I'd get up, grab a shower, and hit the Aduana with all my faculties.

I turned a couple streets and the next thing I knew was that I was inline for crossing. Oh well, no time like the present. It was already around 5PM so I thought maybe if it went smooth I'd try to ride past Reynosa and to the next town to get a room for the night. Such are the best laid plans. ;-)

There was a pretty long line to cross, but it did move pretty quick. In no time I was on the Mexican side trying to find the office for vehicle permits. You'd think it'd be right there on the other side of the bridge. There was a sign pointing left and I followed the already harried traffic until I saw a building that looked "official". A half hour later and many circles around the area, I still hadn't found it. Turns out it's only about 3 blocks away, but it's tucked behind some other buildings. Luckily someone pointed me in the right direction and again I was inline.

I should've remembered from the last trip all the hoops you have to jump through. After waiting in line for the permit, I was directed to another line for a new tourist Visa. This is where it really started to go down hill. After another wait in line, the official raised his eyebrows, counted days on his fingers, then rushed back to enter something in the computer. When he came back he told me my permit and visa had expired by six days. I explained that I knew this, and had been given instructions by both the Mexican Consulate in Austin, and Bancerito (or something like that) in Mexico City, that it was quite alright if I turned in the vehicle permit late instead of making two trips to the border. That's about when my stomach sunk as I realized he wasn't talking about the vehicle permit, but the tourist visa. He seemed pretty disgusted and said I hadn't even paid the $210 pesos for the original visa. I protested to no avail that I had paid the fee and he shook his head and said, "We know you're lying.. you have no stamp on your visa..." I again told him I paid but that the Laredo border officials must have neglected to stamp my form.

After much arguing, and a lame attempt to bribe him with "paying the fine here so I can be on my way, etc."... he sent me back to the bridge to see the immigration lawyer. Told me that that I'd have to have some kind of court the following day between the hours of 9AM and 3PM, etc. Oh boy! I think they saw me coming from a mile away. I asked if there was anyone who could help me this evening so that I could be on my way, and he said he didn't know.. "just go over to the main immigration building..."

Back at the bridge, I explained the problem to the guard on duty and explained the phone calls, etc. This guy seemed a bit more reasonable at first, then I got the same "we got your balls in a vice" sort of grin from him. Again I was told I'd have to return the next day between 9AM and 3PM to see if the official lawyer could forgive the tardiness and grant me a new visa, etc.

I said, "Look, I really love visiting your country. Heck, I wish I could live here... but I really would like to get past this little problem tonight if possible. Is there anything at all you can do to help me?". He picked up the phone and called someone. Turns out the lawyer was still there in his office and I was escorted back. The Lawyer was a short round man with white hair, expensive watch, glasses, and shoes. He smiled pleasantly and listened to my story I'd already told 4 or 5 times at this point.

When I was finished he said, "The expired vehicle permit is not a problem, but the visa fine, etc. has to be paid to the bank and our problem is the banks are closed. I'm sorry but you'll have to come back tomorrow between 9AM and 3PM to have your case heard." We stared at each other for a minute or two, and then I said,

"You look like an important enough man that you ought to be able to fix this for me tonight. How much is the fine?"

"The fine will be about $1500 pesos."

"For only 6 days late?"

He showed me some forms showing how much others had paid for 30 days late.

"Yes, but I was only 6 days late and was told by the Consulate it wasn't a problem"

"Who did you speak to?"

"I didn't get there name, but can't you be a little more reasonable about this? I really just want to be on my way as quick as possible."

He stared at me a again for moment or two then asked,

"Do you need a receipt?"

I tried not smile too big and said,

"No, I don't need a receipt."

"Well, in that case I can offer you a discount of $750 pesos if you pay tonight."

"I'll give you $50 cash right now to make this go away."

"Done, pay the guard at the front and welcome to Mexico."

FINALLY! Fours hours later I was again on my way, but it was now pretty late so I took a room a few blocks away, dumped my bags, and headed out into the Mexican night in search of a drink.

I was pretty exhausted so the search was pretty quick. Ended up chatting with a bartender in some bar called Sinatra's. The place was overpriced, but it turns out it's owned by two gringos the bartender said. The "Mexican" bars are about half this price. I didn't care, just a couple a beers and I was calling it a day anyhow.

Told him about all the hassle, the "no receipt fine", etc. and he laughed. He said, "Welcome to Mexico!"

He told me he'd lived in L.A. for almost 5 years until he got deported. Said he had his own business and 5 employees, etc. Until he got caught driving drunk and was sent back to the border. I asked him if he had to pay any fine or anything. He said no. Just a free ride back to Mexico, and if he sneaks in again and gets caught it'll be the same thing again.. just a free ride back to Mexico and he gets to keep anything he makes while he's there. I told him it seems like he should have to pay some kind of fine or at least something for the transport... "I know if I got caught somewhere in Mexico without the proper papers I won't likely just get a free ride back to the States. He said "no, likely be sitting in jail for a good while until they take everything they can get from you, but going the other way it's really pretty easy.. it's been getting harder now since September 11th though, "now they think we're all terrorists, so it's a little harder to get across.... I'm going to try again this summer I think. Too many people in L.A. but the money sure is good."

The next morning it was warm with a clear blue sky and I headed South toward Ciudad Victoria. The scenery was mostly flat and the highway straight as a pin. Didn't really look much different than South Texas until I approached Victoria where the flatlands began to give way to soft rolling hills and gentle curves. The only way I could tell I was in Mexico was when I'd stop along side the road to take a break the truckers would all honk and wave... and cars would slow down to see if I needed help... not something that happens too much on the U.S. side.

Ciudad Victoria is nestled just at the foot of the Sierras. The light is crisp and the city is very clean. Surprisingly clean.... I couldn't even see cigarette butts on the sidewalk so I tended to hang on to my garbage until I saw a can. You can't really say that about most cities in Mexico, but this one is a little different.

I took a room at a little place called Hotel California (a popular name for hotels in Mexico). It was a little beat up, but the room was large, had a TV and a very hot shower. I really liked that little town and could've stayed longer, than the two nights I stayed. Didn't even see another gringo the entire time I was there, nor did I find anyone who spoke English... a fact that hit home when I decided to buy new lenses for my glasses. It all went pretty smooth until the eye exam and the man pointed at the letters on the wall for me to read off. I know I've only been out of Mexico for 4 months, but it was a bit of a struggle to remember the correct names of the letters so I just pantomimed the letters I couldn't remember. Until, he handed me a piece of paper with text in various sizes and asked me to read the smallest paragraph. I got through it OK and I think he got the gist of it.

After 2 nights, I had my fresh new lenses, a fresh haircut, and had decompressed enough to relax a little. It was time to move on toward Tampico.

Something about Mexico, or just being on the road seems to warp time considerably for me. Only 36hrs into the new journey, and it already felt as if I'd already been gone a week or so. That's one of the things I love about traveling. It's almost like you get a bargain on life. When I'm home, my perception of a couple days time goes by in a wink of an eye. At that rate, my perceived life span would fly by before I knew what hit me. Next thing you know "ten years have got behind you, and nobody told you when to run..". But, while traveling your perceived spent time gets expanded at least 4 fold. That's a bargain any way you slice it!

I woke up screaming the first night in Victoria. I don't think there was anyone else staying there, so I doubt I woke anyone up. The dream had something to do with a small group of people who find chopped up bits of human bodies in buckets. The others and I went through the bits trying to figure out who the victims were and what had happened to them. I don't recall who the others were, but they felt like strangers. Eventually, we "pieced" together who the victims were... They were us! And, it became clear that we were in some place between the living and dead. With this horrible realization I began crying screaming, "I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I'm not dead".



Not sure what that was all about, but the next day I felt more alive than the day before. The new glasses fit nicely, snapped loads of photos, sipped coffee, etc. Next stop Tampico.

By the map it looked like the road to Tampico would be another straight boring shot. Not the case. Evidently I'd climbed to a higher altitude in Victoria without knowing it, and half the ride to Tampico was all sharp curve winding roads with drop offs overlooking Mesas and the Gulf of Mexico. Someone had told me of a place just North of Tampico called "Barra del Tordo". They'd strongly recommended I visit there and since it was sort of on the way, I figured I'd go by there first. Others had also called it a "paradise".

Stopped for gas in a little town called Aduana (I think). Someone asked where I was going on the motorcycle and I told them, "I'm going to Barra del Tordo". They seemed surprised,

"You are? Why?"

"I was told it's nice. Is it not nice?"

"No, it's nice I guess. It's only about 20 minutes more down the road."

I wasn't sure if I'd taken the correct road since sometimes the signs can get VERY confusing in Mexico. A sign will say you're on a certain highway and the next thing you know the signs will say you're on another highway. After about a half hour I figured I'd taken a wrong turn. There was nothing but farmland and no other cars, so I stopped at a little tienda for a beer and to ask directions.

"You're going to Barra? Yes, it's this way.. only about 10 more kilometers to the beach and 15 to the town."

"You sound surprised I'm going there. Are there rooms? Are there alot of people there?"

Yes, there are rooms in the town, and palapas on the beach... not too many people there though.. more come closer to Semana Santa."

We chatted for awhile and he told me he used to work in Houston. Said he made enough money laying synthetic marble to buy his house and this tienda.

"Don't tell me.. until you got deported?"

"No, I'm just too old to lay marble now. I have papers and a dual citizenship."

"But, you don't speak English? How did you get your citizenship without speaking English?"

"I just worked hard and stayed out of trouble. My employer helped me get the citizenship.. wasn't that hard. I like it here though. It's quiet."

After I borrowed his outhouse and finished my second miniature Victoria beer, I was on my way again. I couldn't wait to see this "paradise", hang my hammock, and just relax.

I passed through more farmland with cows, etc... hardly "paradise-like", but I thought maybe the pastures would give way to some drastic landscaping change as I approached the beach. I waited for it... turned the last corner and road up onto the beach. Not much. Only a line of concrete picnic pavilions and a flat beach. I thought maybe the paradise was further down and road then entire length of the playa. Nothing. Just a beat up looking palapa restaurant that didn't look like it was open, and a line of covered picnic tables. Nothing else. Hummmmm.... I suppose if you'd never seen the ocean before it might pass for a "paradise". So, I thought perhaps the town is where the paradise is. Took a couple photos, but didn't even stay long enough to take off my helmet.

Another 5 kilometers and I hit the town. Another disappointment. Just loads of garbage, beat up fishing boats, dried mud, and a few fishermen laying about in hammocks who appeared to be drunk. Hummmm... still not quite paradise unless you fancy laying about garbage strewn on the dried mud ground and hanging in an old hammock chatting it up with drunk fishermen. Maybe this was just the entrance to the town and the real "paradise" lay down the laguna a bit? Nope. Just more dried mud that gave way to your basic beach. Maybe I'd taken a wrong turn in the town so I backtracked and wound around some shanty wooden shacks strewn with more garbage. After I'd shaken off about the 6th dog trying to snag a bit of my leg, the dirt road circled back to the paved highway. Well, now I was certain. I'm sure this is paradise for someone, but not for me. Without even turning off the motor to have a smoke, I was blazing back down the highway toward Tampico.

Arriving in Tampico was again a huge disappointment.. at first. I followed the signs toward the Centro and managed to stay clear of the insane taxi drivers who evidently couldn't see me. Seeing an Office Depot, McDonald's, Church's Fried Chicken, Walmart, etc. my heart sunk a bit. All this way to find basically San Antonio, Texas.

The sun was setting and I still had my sunglasses on, but I was hoping to just pull into a hotel parking lot, grab a room and plan my escape further on down the coast in search of Mexico. A few more kilometers and the city began to change drastically. As I rode into the Centro area, the architecture looked like something out of Havana, Mexico City, and New Orleans. Just as I'd been told! It was pretty cramped with tons of people, so navigating around at 5PM on a motorcycle was a bit of a challenge.

Eventually I found a room that had a nearby parking garage, tossed my bags, and made out into the Tampico night. The city didn't initially strike me as pleasant since I'd come from such a quaint and clean city, but it does have a strange texture to it. Hard to put my finger on it. I'd only been to New Orleans once, but it didn't look like it was supposed to in my mind's eye.. wasn't as grungy, dirty, and tinged with the fragrance of VooDoo. But this town, Tampico looks much more like New Orleans was supposed to. Seems like something is lurking here behind the crooked old houses jammed inbetween large Spanish buildings. The light in the morning especially has a yellowish brown patina like the color of a pirate ghost's breath.



I've spent the last 2 days exploring the corridors in and around the old port, the old piers, and downtown. I'm really liking this city the more I'm here. And, again.. I haven't seen a single other tourist or gringo here. No one hassles me, or asks me for anything. The air is moist and warm, so I changed into my shorts for most of the hiking and only then did I get an occasional glance. Or, when I'd be studying a bit of rust on a door and then frame for a photo. I'd get asked,

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm just taking a photo of this."

"Do you own that building or something?"

"No, just taking a photo of it."

"But, why? It's ugly."

"I don't think so. I think the texture and colors are quite beautiful."

They'd just look at my shorts, shake their head, and keep walking.


I'm hoping the warm weather keeps up while I head further South. I'm told it can change drastically this time of year and turn bitter cold in just a days time. This morning I noticed all the locales shivering from cold, all wearing coats and gloves. I thought, "Oh no! And I'm not far enough South yet!" But, when I went outside it was still fairly warm. Not quite hot like it was yesterday, but still at least 75F. I guess again it's just all a matter of perspective.

I'm sitting in a little cafe called La Victoria Cafe Gourmet. Luckily they have outstanding coffee, are located right on a lovely plaza, and have wireless. ;-)

Not too interested in stopping at Poza Rica, but there are some ruins called El Tajin I might stop for on the way to either Xalapa or Veracruz... not sure which I'll go to first, but will update you when I've got another payload of "texture and color." ;-)

Hasta,

Skip

(click the link below to view a little video clip from this leg of the trip. You'll need Quicktime 7 installed to view)

On the Road Again!!!

It's been awhile since I've posted here. But, I got Ruby back from the dealer a few weeks ago for a complete service including the valves, etc. There was some warranty stuff too including the replacement of the left radiator fan assembly. Nothing wrong with the fan, but the metal guard around the outside of the fan fell off and lodged into the skid plate while I was blastin' down the highway.

I won't go into details, but the experience at the dealer, the cost, etc. was something less than pleasant to say the least.

I've been riding on my Bridgestone TW rear replacement and so far so good. I like it for the highway, and it's ok in the dirt, but we haven't had any rain down here in Texas so I can speak for it's wet pavement grip. I've hit a couple wet patches here and there and it does slip some, but I'll have to wait until I hit some rain before I compare it to the GP110.

Well, I don't really have the time... but I'm making the time to head back down to Mexico. Gotta get outta this corrupt fascist country for a bit. Wink And this time I'm going to head down the East coast of Mexico.

Not sure where I'm going but Xalapa for a destination seems nice. Any other recommendations are welcome for sure!

Last time I crossed the border at Laredo without incident. But, this time I might cross at Reynosa instead. Does anyone know if it's better to just cross at Laredo and work my way over to the East coast on the Mexican side? Or stay on the Texas side and cross at Reynosa for a jaunt down the coast?

Also, not sure about the terrain. I'd prefer to not be caught in mountainous regions at night since it's still basically Winter (although you wouldn't know it from Texas... I think it was about 80F today). Any suggestions or advice is much appreciated.

I didn't turn in my motorcycle vehicle permit when I crossed back into the U.S. in August because I thought I'd be able to go back down into Mexico in October. Unfortunately, I couldn't get away... sooooo.. my permit expired on the 6th of January. I called the Mexican consulate here in Austin and they said it wouldn't be a problem... to just turn it in when I go back. I asked if I'd get fined or jailed and they said "no", but they also gave me Bancito's number in Mexico City. I called them and the person I spoke with spoke VERY little English, but she also said I wouldn't have a problem turning in the permit a couple weeks late. Anyone know for sure?

Regarding my reports... I will likely continue my current "Skip's Mexican Motorcyle Blog" as if the last 4 months since I've been home have just been an "intermission". If you want to catch up start from the bottom and work your way up. ;-) I'm also going to try and add little video clips in addtion to the photos and photo galleries.

Last time I took a Canon dSLR with lenses, and a video camera. Which took up waaaay too much room. This time I'm only taking this awesome little Panasonic point and shoot called an LX1. It shoots 8MP 16:9 images and also shoots full screen 16:9 30fps video clips with sound. So the next reports will also have video samples along with the still photos and "colorful" writing. Wink

This LX1 makes wonderful sharp, hi-res images and is tiny. You can view some galleries I've shot with it so far here:

http://www.poppinfreshmedia.com/lx1v12/

This gallery is the 12th day out with it, but you can see galleries for days 1-11 in the top html navigation.

Ok, should be shovin' off tomorrow. Still scared like I was on the first one, but I'm sure that will give way to motorcycle rapture soon enough! Any tips, suggestions, or advice is certainly welcome!!!

Skip Hunt

Military Checkpoint Tip!

Hey, here's a tip for ya... if you'e riding in Mexico and get tired of all the military checkpoints, opening your bags, showing passport, permit, questions about drugs and arms, etc.... Just ask the military dude if after his inspection you can take a photo of him on your bike. He'll be THRILLED and there will be no inspection. Just a quick snap and they just wave you on your way. Just make sure you say "OK" if he asks to try on your helmet too. ;-)


Here's a photo I shot of me, myself, and I on the Baja. I was just getting ready to ride into the storm you see in the background, but missed most of it. I can't tell you just how ethereal the desert smells in the Northern baja just after a rain. The closest I can come to it is... imagine if the Mother of God were to be primping her holy self for a night at the opera... the perfume she'd wear might smell very similar to that intoxicating fragrance that rises from a freshly showered North Baja desert.

The fluid in the water jug is gasoline... didn't take a proper gas can with me, but it worked out just fine. Unfortunately, I didn't quite get the hang of pouring gas from a water just into my gas tank until about the 3rd try. Most of the gas just washed right over my entire tank and tank bag. ;-)

FYI: The bike looks so clean because the shot was taken just off the highway right before heading off-road toward Coco's Corner (about 24km of washboard and mud). And, because I'm a dork and like pretty shiny things... I borrowed some old towels and a bucket of soapy water from the posada I was staying at and cleaned ol' Ruby up real nice before the off-road portion. ;-)

8/19/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary

8/19/05

Funny story... I'd just ridden from White Sands, New Mexico via a mountain pass through Cloudcroft at about 8700 feet about sea level, ie. very cold, rainy/wet, and not so comfortable ... I arrived in Carlsbad, New Mexico after riding through 3 hrs of rain, wind, etc. and wasn't in the mood. When I rolled into Carlsbad, NM.. some Harley biker with a Banditos vest on and his girlfriend pulled up next to me at a light. They mouthed off something that didn't seem pleasant but I couldn't hear them since my headphones where blasting Interpol. I turned off the vibes to hear something about how I was a [expletive removed] for not riding a Harley and because I was wearing a helmet.

Because I was feelin' like a badass at this point... I followed their asses down the road and turned with them at the next light. Only to find 3 rows of around 150 Harley's! Was I discouraged? Heck no! I spotted a spot right in the freakin' middle and parked my Kawasaki right alongside the Harleys. At first, I got some pretty ugly looks. Then some Harley dude came up and talked to me. He also had a KLX dirt bike and was a huge fan of the KLR even though he also road a Harley for show. After I told him where I'd been... and after he spread the word... I was IN! And, even though I stated I'm a huge NON-fan of Bush, called him a bloody fascist,etc. most of the bikers were anti-bush too! Even though most of them were flyin' American colors with eagles ands stuff. Turned out it was some biker rally with folks from the Hell's Angels, Banditos, Desert Dawgs, Gypsies, etc. And, because of where I'd been, they all wanted to buy me beers! No cover charge for the bike rally, and I took this shot during a "burn out" contest.

When one of the Harley riders asked me where I was staying, I said.. "I hadn't planned on staying, but since it's raining and late... guess I'll stay at Motel 6" He retorted, "Hell no, my brothah! You'll stay at my place... I INSIST!... that is if you don't mind the couch?" His French wife insisted as well and I was treated like a king.

This image is from the rainy burn-out contest. I think these folks are "Banditos". Sorry for the grain, etc. but it was dark and I had to bump up the iso to 3200. I didn't want to use flash and call too much attention to myself... Figured, some of these chaps might not be too keen on gettin' their pictures taken. ;-) Besides... I think it kinda adds to the gritty vibe I was feeling that night. :-)


-Skip Hunt


Carlsbad, New Mexico

8/17/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary

8/17/05

Today is my birthday. I thought the day was going to go great. I left Vegas and just barely made it to the Grand Canyon by sunset doing 95mph most of the way. I spent the night at a campground and didn't know how freakin' cold it gets at 7000+ above sea-level. So, I froze in my hammock all night and didn't sleep much. But, I decided to make the best of it and catch the Canyon just after sun-rise, then hit the big Crater outside Flagstaff, stop off by the Painted Desert for shots, then on through Roswell to White Sands.

It all went downhill after waking this morning freezing in my hammock. Got to the Canyon and fired off a few shots, then went back to the bike and noticed my tire definately wasn't going to make it back to Texas. Cords were already showing... so, I cut the visit short and rode 80miles REAL slow down Hwy 180 to Flagstaff to the nearest place I could find a tire. Gets even older at over 8000 feet above sea-level by the way. but, the scenery was pretty nice. Paid almost double what the same time costs in Austin, but they did it while I waited. Trouble was... they took about 3hrs doing it. Then they inform me that my back brake pad is nearly metal to metal and they didn't have the pads for my bike. Sooooooo... had to find another shop, pay again through the nose for brake pads installed and was finally on my way.

BUT, about 30miles outside Flagstaff I realized I left my Road Atlas at the first MC shop and wasn't about to ride all the way back. Stood in line at Walmart for 40mins to buy a crummy atlas and try to at least make the Painted desert today. I was almost there when the sign says they close entrance at 7pm... is was already 6:50PM so I had to find a cheap room in Holbrook Arizona and start over fresh tomorrow.

I told the service manager at the motorcycle shop that was reaming me that it was my birthday... just so I could hear at least one person wish me one.

I told the short little Indian dude from Bombay who's wearing a giant cowboy hat and bolo tie and rented me this dodgy room for $20 that it was my birthday, and he said.. "What about a birthday cake?" I said, "Nah, just wanted you to wish me a happy birthday..." He said, "No, I mean just before you came in I was having a piece of cake. I'll split it with you as a birthday cake."

So, I shared his cake with him then moved my stuff into this room that smells like 20years of mildew. But hey! I gots me some cake.. AND he has FREE wireless!



This is one seriously freaky little town. Kinda creepy, but a writer's paradise. I went to get a bite to eat for my birthday and most of the beat up little cafes had already closed at 8pm. One was open called Mr. Maestra's. I ordered a glass of wine (since it's my birthday and all) and the "red" arrived at my table in a water glass, was cold, very sweet, and had bubbles in it. I had a headache before finishing even half the glass. And there was this old Navajo dude (Mr. Maestra I assume) who only had one leg, was in a wheel chair, wearing a cammo jungle hat and a t-shirt that said "Get Your Kicks on Route 66", and he was wheeling around in his wheelchair with a pot of coffee toppin' folks off.



-Skip Hunt

(to be continued in part 8/19/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary)

8/14/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary

8/14/05

Just made it up from San Felipe through some very odd scenery including what appeared to be an ocean of flat salt for as far as the eye could see. Thought about riding it, but when I checked it first my boot sank through the salt crust and down about a foot into mud before I retrieved it.

The border at Mexicali was a breeze. Really diggin this idea of lane-splitting. Honestly, I didn't know what "lane splitting" was, but that's basically what I've been doing in Mexico for the last 4 weeks in Mexico to combat taxi drivers. I lane slit past about 50 cars all the way to the front of the line. The guy just said, "what's in the bags? Just clothes and stuff?" I said, "Yeah, just clothes and stuff." He then just looked at my Texas tag and said "Welcome to the U.S.". I asked, "Is that it? Don't you need to see my passport or anything? Or, don't I need to pass a Mexican check points or something?" He said no, and then asked where I was going. I told him Vegas and he asked how I was getting there. I told him just over to Interstate 8, then Hwy 95 all the way up to Vegas. He told me, "You'll save a little time if you just take 111 up to 78, then over to 95.

That was it. No search or anything. Not even a stamp. There was a U.S. border checkpoint just before going into the Imperial Dunes area, but no one was there. Is this the increased border control I've been hearing so much about? Seems like anyone with a U.S. tag and the right accent could easily pass right into the U.S. with no questions asked at all. Not even a search.

After several weeks in Mexico, I arrived in Vegas only to get robbed. It all happened so fast. I barely saw it coming, but I did notice the "bandit" only had one arm. Not to bad though. I've only lost $140 so far... then dropped a nickel in a slot machine at the Belagio and won $138.75 with one pull!

Internet access on the strip is VERY pricey $5 for 20mins. But, now I'm using the internet at the LV public library for free.

I will look for a U.S. roadmap at Borders after I leave here to find a nice route back to Texas. I need to do it in about 6 days tops since my wife informed me our tickets to see Green Day in San Antonio are on the 21st and not on the 28th like I thought. Still, I should have ample time to make a few stops along the way as long as they aren't too far off course.

I will try and type up a full report with photos that includes from where I left off in Puerto Vallarta, to Mazatlan, the ferry to La Paz, down the Baja to Todos Santos, down and around the Cabos, back up through La Paz to Constitucion, across toward Melage area, up to Rosarita, West to Guererro Nego via San Ignacio, back North East to Bahia Los Angeles, up to Chapala and up the East coast via about 100 miles of Baja 1000 route that passes by Cocos Corner and up to San Felipe, then up to Mexicali with a detour due to hiway flooding to Lake Havasu, a night sleeping in an RV lot across from the AVI Indian casino in BullHead, then arriving in Vegas yesterday.

More later, if you think of any must-see spots from Vegas to Austin, Texas let me know. I'm not sure what route I'm taking, but the most direct seems to be I10 all the way into Texas. A trucker told me I40 was a nicer ride through. Will decide after I pick up a map.

Bike is still running fabulous. My rear tire is nearly bald, but I'm guessing I might have another 1500 miles left on it max before I get to the layer before tube. I might stop somewhere along the way and just get a new tire, but I'd prefer to wait until I get back so I can start fresh and take my time researching which brand to get. I'm not too wild about this GP110s performance on wet pavement, but that might just be the same story with ANY dual-sport tire. Still, I think my stock Dunlop felt better on wet pavement than this IRC. The IRC front doesn't seem to through as many rocks up at my motor or my shins as the Dunlop did, and both the front and rear IRCs do great off-road.. it's just the pavement that I'm not completely satisfied with them.


Skip Hunt


(to be continued in part 8/17/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary)

8/12/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary

"Ok, so I've now traveled the entire Baja from bottom to top by motorcycle and I'm about to cross the border back into the U.S. Ya know... I haven't seen a single other motorcycle the entire time. I thought the Baja was supposed to be a mecca for motorcyclists?"

"It is, but they don't usually don't come until around December. They whine and cry like women and say 'it's too hot!'..."

"Oh yeah? Well, it IS pretty hot out there... but it's not THAT hot. Seems like there'd be at least one other insane person on a motorcycle out here besides me."

He points to a big round thermometer on the wall that has its needle quivering around 110F.

"Is that thing right? It's 110F? Hey, that IS pretty toasty."

"Yes, es correcto. But, that's how hot it is IN HERE! It's closer to 127F out there. Mucho calor!"

"Oh, yeah... well... I suppose that IS pretty warm then.... Otra Tecate por favor. Con limon!"

About 33km South of the Mexicali/U.S. border



-Skip

(to be continued in part 8/14/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary)

8/09/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary

Yes, I know this is just another typical sunset.. and not particularly outstanding in any way. But, I look at this and it takes me swiftly back into my hammock. Swaying carelessly under a thatch-roofed palapa on the edge of a tourquoise beach on the Baja. A beach that hasn't been developed yet and has no other vendor besides an old Mexican woman who's husband built these palapas shortly before he succombed to cancer. He wanted to leave something for his wife and children so in his absence they'd be provided for.

She has a small fresh water well and fills up your water bottle for a few pesos. And, she rents you a nice little sand-floored palapa on the beach. No hotels, no restaurants, no one selling postcards. Just a few palapas, some fresh water, a sliver of sand and watery heaven, a gentle breeze to lull you to sleep, and a kiss goodnight from el Sol.

About 50km South of Melage, Baja.



-Skip

(to be continued in part 8/12/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary)

8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.12

(continued from part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.11)

After pleading with the woman at a nearby lavanderiato please take just one more load of clothes for the day. I told her I'd already been to three other shops and they told me it was too late. She thought for a moment and then agreed to take my clothes. I thanked her profusely because I really wanted to start the Baja with sweat stench-free clothing. She weighed my load and scrawled out a quick receipt for me. When I looked down at the price I thought there might be a mistake and said, "Why is the price double for under 3 kilos?" She quipped, "Rush charge." and smirked as she whisked away my clothes before I could change my mind. ;-)

The days here in Vallarta have melted one into the other in a humid haze. The nights have been so hot that I just stand under the cold shower 2 or 3 times a night, actuallly nude ;-), and just lay in the bed under the ceiling fan until I can get to sleep. Normally I would be self conscious enough to at least close the curtains while laying nude, but it has been so hot that I didn't give a donkey's bum if anyone saw me or not. I was only planning on staying here for 3 nights and thought that would be too long. But now I'm getting ready to settle in for my 5th night. It's a strange place Vallarta. You can love it or hate it, but it's certainly like no other place on Earth. Yes, it's touristy, and hot, etc. but there's something romantic and sultry about the place. Something hidden in the sweating palm leaves. And, it always feels like you're home after just a few days. It can get a little confusing if you forget you don't actually live here and have to keep moving on. Besides, I think poor Ruby is beginning to feel neglected so I gave her frame an nice bolt and screw tightening and dropped all my sweat-soaked clothes off to the lavanderia for one last cleaning before I hit the Baja. I hope to drag myself out of bed before dawn and see if I can make Mazatlan in time for the afternoon ferry to La Paz. I thought about just going up to Guyama to catch the ferry over to Rosalitas instead about midway up the Baja since many have told me the North and East of the Baja are the most scenic. Just as many have said that same about the South, so I think I'll just try and see the whole peninsula tip to tip and decide for myself. I visited with an old friend I've made here in Valllarta named Ernie Munoz who told me the Baja is pure magic. Says in the North on the Sea of Cortez at night you can hear these strange sounds from the heavens... almost as if you can actually hear the planets themselves. He's got a beautiful gallery and I absolutely love his work. We chatted for a bit this morning catching up and I discovered his brother who'd always taken care of all the business stuff had died last November. He was still pretty saddened by the loss and seemed lost to manage the gallery, etc. on his own. I shared stories of my own recent loss of my father and tried to console him. He seemed aimless now and wanted to just sell everything and move away to maybe Toledo, Spain.. Guanajuato... or maybe Vancouver, Canada.

After a long and heart-felt conversation, I bid my old friend good-bye and told him that I hoped to see him again one day whether it was in Spain, or Canada, or right here in Mexico. He seemed touched and yelled out "Thank You!" to me as I walked down the sidewalk. I turned and asked, "Thank you? Whatever for?", he seemed to tear up a bit and said, "For taking the time to talk with an old man." I looked at him square in the eyes and said, "The pleasure was all MINE mi amigo!"


I don't know how much access I'll find in the Baja, but I will update again when possible.

Hasta,


Skip Hunt


(to be continued in part 8/09/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary)

8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.10

(continued from part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.9)

Soon Ruby and I were breezing down the last 140 kilometers toward Puerto Vallarta. As we approached the foliage got much more dense as well as the humidity and taxis cars. The cobblestone avenues that make Southern Vallarta so quaint are fairly treacherous with dual-sport tires, and the road directions aren't clearly marked so if you don't know your way around it's pretty easy to be going the wrong way down the street. I rode slow and took my time despite the fact gobs of sweat were now pouring out from under my helmet, down my riding jacket sleeves, and down my legs into my boots. I was really getting pretty faint but a room and a cold bottle of water were just around the corner. First I tried the guy who owns the Big Kahuna coffee shop because last time he'd told me the next time I come he'd rent me one of his apartments for only $90 pesos a night. But given the fact it's "temporada" and busloads of national tourists were swarming all over Vallarta, the price was now $300 pesos. He apologized, and I said, "No problemo, just thought I'd ask." I next visited an ol' pal JR, an ol' Brittish chap who lives a wonderfully simple existence in a small flat in the more "mexican" part of town. This guy never ceases to amaze me. He can trot along hiking through the jungle, riding a mule, fix it own car in the dead heat of the day, then settle down for a nice splif and several stiff drinks... AND STILL carry on a great argument with complete lucidity. Stunning to see the man in action! But I digress.. back to finding a room. JR called up a woman who'd offered an apartment to me for cheap, but the access turned out to be a bit more than I felt putting Ruby through, ie. walking her over a swinging cable bridge, down some stairs, under the bridge, through the mud, and into someone else's patio I only hoped wouldn't mind. Ruby and I probably could've have done it, but if just one little Mexican kid thought it'd be funny to watch the gringo try and keep his bike up while they stomped back and forth on the bridge to make it sway (like the little demons are infamous for), it'd be all she wrote for poor Ruby. She certainly topple off and be taking a swim in the Cuale river just after crushing her skull on the boulders below. No, better just try and get a room at my old standby, Hotel El Azteca, and sort it all out later.

The prices have risen a bit, but they remembered me from my last visit and agreed to a lower rate. And they also welcomed Ruby into the hotel's little foyer. It was a chore getting her in, but with the help of a couple passersby and some motor assistance, we put the ol' girl to rest among the potted vegetation. Ruby seemed ready for a little tropical rest and I was definitely ready for a cold shower. The shower helped for about 2 minutes and I was reminded why so many gringos give Vallarta a miss during the rainy season. The humidity is such that not only do you sweat constantly, but you almost ooze something else more viscous. JR told me it hadn't even rained it several days so there really hadn't been any relief at all. I began to really wonder why the heck I'd left Faro de Bucieras or Chamela?! Vallarta can be a virtual hell hole when the humidity hits peak season and the sun is boiling your brains out.

I popped back over to JR's place and felt it was time for one of those "medicinal" substance treatments. Soon, with the help of JR and whatever "attitude adjusters" he had handy, we were off to meet some locals and visitors at a local seaside bar. Between JR and I sat this nice woman named Pat who was smartly dressed for the occasion and had a button on identifying which "group" she was with. After both JR's and my rambling on about the government and mind control, etc. We decided Pat had probably had enough, and so we changed the subject. Another somewhat odd and older woman sort of floated over like a small cloud towards our table and took seat next to mine. She had a very serious and stern face that contrasted her loose bohemian attire. She didn't seem that interested in communicating with mere mortals and chose to focus on the setting sun instead. I made a comment about this other dude's shirt that was made up of a patchwork of paintings that looked like Diego Rivera's work, and how I liked it. His name was Ira and he said he didn't have a clue who the artist was, but that he just liked the shirt. As soon as the conversation began to dissolve into "art" the woman next to me began to come alive and join the conversation.

She began to tell me of a strange Huichol Indian ritual a girlfriend and she had participated in just down the beach the other night. She said they were two nude gringas watching as the Indians performed a strange ritual for the crops that involved sacrificing a goat. "A goat?" I said. "Yes! And it just came itself over so willfully and peaceful. Like it knew it was giving itself over to the greater good... and did I mention we were nude?". I told her that didn't sound like any ritual I'd ever heard of and that I didn't get the significance of she and her amiga being nude for it. "Well, we had simple robes on, but completely nude underneath." I told her, "Well, that's not exactly nude now is it? I mean, I too am completely nude underneath my t-shirt and shorts, but that's not really the same thing now is it?" She ignored my little quip and continued, "And I was so touched how gently this goat just gave over its life without a sound... well, actually at first the goat got away during the ceremony and the poor Huichol priests were scrambling around in the sand trying to catch it again." At this point I lost it hand laughed uncontrollably out loud at the thought of the goat getting away and disrupting the "show". The woman kept her very serious and stern face and I tried to contain myself long enough for her to finish her touching story.

(to be continued in part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.11)

8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.9

(continued from part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.8)

The coastal ride continued to be nothing less than spectacular along an excellent road through thick canopies of shade through mountain curves and nice straight aways. Ruby seemed content with the smooth road and wanted to continue all the way up the coast. But, I realized I'd likely not make it to Puerto Vallarta before dark so I stopped at the first roadside restaurant that sold seafood. After a splendid fish dinner at a little place called La Buda, and a couple cool papaya licuados the owner's brother asked me about Ruby and my journey. We shared less than favorable comments about each of our respective governments and he suggested I should stay on the beach there at Chamela for the night. He claimed their little playita was the most beautiful in the Pacific and that I could just stay on the beach for free. I asked if there where rooms or palapas I could rent and he said no. But that I could just put up my hammock in one of the little palapa restaurants if I wanted. He urged me to at least have a look. And pointed me down a little dirt road off the highway.

Winding down the soft dirt road as it wound around small lagunas full of water lilies and flanked by giant magical looking trees, I finally came out of the little forest onto a small inlet on a bay that hosted 9 small islands. There were about a dozen small fishing boats on the shore in front of 3 or 4 small palapa restaurants. The sun was nearly fixed to set as the light turned a magnificent golden orange. I pulled Ruby under one of the palapas, got off and inspected the premises for hammock worthiness as the owner, Gladis, and her girls watched me. I then asked without even introducing myself,

"Hey, do you folks mind if I hang up my hammock here and sleep for the night?"

They looked at each other and then she said,

"I don't see why not. Let me ask my husband if he thinks it's OK."

Her fisherman husband was lounging in a large colorful hammock and said it was fine with him. I offered to pay for the rent, and they refused. I insisted on at least $30 pesos or so. They thought about 2 seconds and then the husband said,

"Nada! You don't have to pay anything."

His wife moved a couple of the plastic tables and chairs aside from the middle of the restaurant and suggested I hang my hammock in the middle in case it rains I won't get wet. She pointed back down the dirt road into the forest and said there's a small tienda where you can by water and juice if you like, and asked if I could please try to move my hammock by lunchtime before the customers arrive. She told me they'd have fresh fish if I were hungry the next day, and they all loaded up into a truck and drove off leaving me there with the sunset. I couldn't believe it! I found heaven once again! So peaceful and quiet. I jumped onto Ruby to pick up cigarettes, water, and an ice cold Coke and made it back into my hammock just as el Sol was just kissing the horizon.

With only a few miner disruptions of crashing in the cocina that turned out to be 2 or 3 kittens rummaging for bits of fish to eat, and a fisherman or two heading out into the night to collect lobster, I had a peaceful sleep until the sun rose and the next round of fishermen were heading out with octopus spears. I just lounged for most of the morning and Gladis' husband made me coffee before he headed out for octopus himself. After a nice swim, Gladis prepared me a fresh fish lunch. She said the price was $60 pesos, but I explained I only had $50 pesos since I hadn't changed money in awhile. She said, "That's OK. I'll just give you a little smaller fish." and, winked. After I'd finished the delicacy, and handed over my $50 pesos, she said that she was only charging me $40 pesos so I could buy a nice cold Coke with fresh cut limes if I wanted.

Can you imagine?!!! A foreigner rides up to a restaurant in the States, dismounts, inspects the premises, then without even introducing himself asks if he can hang a hammock inside the restaurant to sleep for the night? My guess is that the FBI would be promptly called to investigate a suspicious character and the poor foreigner would be more or less out of luck! I'd bet a pretty peso he would not be welcomed as one of the family and made as comfortable as possible. But, I suppose stranger things have happened. ;-)

(to be continued in part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.10)

8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.8

(continued from part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.7)

A little later, and just a few short kilometers down the road I followed Irma and her friends to the next playita where there was a single sea turtle laying her eggs. The group crowded around the tortuga as she struggled in the late afternoon sun to dig her way out and back into the sea. One of Irma's friends, a pretty young Mexican woman named Barbara seemed a bit put off from the spectacle and she worried that we were all scaring the poor thing. I snapped a few photos until little Elizabeth came running up to me and deposited a single turtle egg into my palm. I asked, "Uh.. aren't you supposed to leave the eggs be? I mean, aren't they protected here?" Irma said no, and that many of the eggs get scooped up by the locals to sell or to eat. I learned they also sell scrambled sea turtle eggs back at the palapa, but I couldn't bring myself to try them. I took a couple snaps of the egg then deposited it back into the pit the mother had worked so hard to dig and then covered it back up with sand. I entertained the thought that just maybe this little guy would make it and end up as someone's desayuno before he even had a chance. I know that at Maruata the turtles and their eggs are guarded by armed Mexican military, but evidently that level of protection is few and far between. After another vacationing Mexican family came screaming onto the beach with cameras in hand and posed for a few snaps before the ol' bird managed to drag herself back into the surf.. we were all on our way again. We visited a second beach called La Ticqua (I think), and I left the girls there while I took Ruby for a drink in the next town. That beach was also nice with bigger surf, but far too many gringos with surf boards and emply liter beer bottles strewn about for my taste.

That evening Irma informed me that the young Mexican woman, Barbara, was a skilled masseur and that she'd massage me for a bit over an hour for just 100 pesos. Perfect! Laying in the sand, lulled by the late evening breeze, and getting massaged by a hot Latina as the sun set? I can't think of anything better. :-) About that time I was again laying in my hammock when one of the other Mexican visitors came over and gave me a plate of ceviche with tostadas as a gift. I happily accepted the massage date, but after Barbara had finished most of those waiting for massages, it'd had already crept past midnight and I figured she'd be too tired so I allowed myself to slowly sway off into a midnight slumber.

For some reason, I felt I needed to keep moving on. So, after Ruby was all packed up and wiped nice a clean for the road I bid my new friends adios. Barbara said,

"You're leaving?!"

"Yes, I must continue on."

"But, I thought you wanted a massage?"

"I did, but it was so late last night I thought you might be too tired."

"You should have said something, I thought we were disturbing you with our talking so I just went to sleep. You can't leave now. Join me for breakfast."

"Ok, but I really need to be getting on the road if I'm to make Puerto Vallarta before dark."

"I have a massage after I finish breakfast, but you must allow me to give you a massage before you leave."

"Fair enough. I'll wait for a massage and then leave."

Barbara told me she was going to Oaxaca in few days and I asked her if she liked mushrooms. She said she wanted to try them sometime, but felt her head should be right before and not troubled.

"You're troubled? Why?"

"Now I'm not troubled because I'm here on this beautiful beach, but I was before."

"Well, what is your trouble?"

"Come, join me for breakfast!"

"I will if you'll tell me what's troubling you.

"Ok, I'll tell you over breakfast but I must hurry because that man is waiting for his massage."

We chatted for nearly an hour over breakfast and discussed our lives, travel, religion, love lives, etc. She told me she almost married an Israeli man named Jose, and had decided she could settle down and have children with this man. She figured that maybe she'd got too possessive of him and scared him off. This is when she broke down and started to cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm feeling very vulnerable this morning for some reason. Please excuse me."

"That's Ok. How long has it been since you were with Jose?"

"Only 2 months ago, why?"

"Just curious."

About that time Irma came running over to let us know another sea turtle had found its way onto the beach. A large excited crowd had gathered around her and I expected the worst. Surprisingly, one of the boys saw the ancient tortuga's plight and lifted her out of the pit after she'd deposited her eggs. She frantically tried to scoop sand into her pit to cover them and to my amazement all of the Mexicans joined in to help her. All the children and adults scooped mounds of sand into the pit to help cover the precious eggs and then helped her along the softer part of the beach until she could get better traction. We all watched the waves carry her off into the sea and all went back to whatever we'd been doing before.


Barbara and I sat down again with both our spirits lifted by the kindness everyone showed, and then the conversation shifted to world affairs and how she couldn't understand how this man she loved with all her soul could have killed so many Palestinians while serving in the Israeli army. "Such a beautiful man to have such a horrible past.. but, I accepted all of it." I explained to her that militaries are very good at convincing soldiers that killing people is a good idea. I mean really! Would any reasonable person, when told they should go over that hill and kill all of those people they've never met, risk getting killed themselves, and all for something as abstract as "a country"... do you really think any reasonable human being would comply with such a request? I think not, but I was in the military and I know how good they are at distorting the average person's mind set. They must make you believe that you are killing and possibly dying for a much bigger "cause", and that because you are "serving" a far superior cause than the other guy, they must be killed for the greater good. Oftentimes they don't even say in so many words that the enemy is inferior and deserves to die, but they communicate this insidiously by pumping up THEIR cause and superiority to such a level that anyone else MUST be "inferior" and not worthy by default. They also through in a little religion for good measure so that the soldier believes he is not only killing for a greater good and superior cause, but for ol' Jehovah, or Allah as well! How else could any reasonable person live with the fact they'd killed so many who'd previously never hurt anyone?

"So, you see.. I'm sure your Jose is a reasonable enough chap whose mind has been temporarily distorted by the military."

"You think so? How then has the U.S. made so many people appear agree with all of this killing in Iraq?"

I told her that personally, I believe these same techniques that have been historically used to sculpt the minds of young men to make more efficient killing machines has also been used on the American public at large. They are so kept sheltered from anyone else's cultural history from their earliest years in school. They are told they live in the greatest country the human race has ever known. Are instructed to pledge allegiance to their country in the name of God, and how so many have died to protect their freedom. It is drilled into their collective heads for so long how superior they are, that when a very few of them manages to visit another country they tend to just walk all over the locals and profess how inferior this or that country is and how they can't wait to get back to the good ol' U.S.A. Eventually they come to believe through carefully controlled media messaging that they are the true heirs of God's grace and that everyone else is essentially insignificant. So, you see... the same sort of mind sculpting that militaries have effectively used for over a thousand years to build better soldiers has now been used on the public as well. It's not that the people are bad, it's just that their minds have been twisted by an evil and greed lusty agenda.

I believe you can take the same culture, lift it up and retrofit it onto any other group of reasonable folks and you'll get a similar effect. And, it's not the first time either. How do you suppose the Third Reich was able to convince an entire country of otherwise reasonable folks that it was a good idea to exterminate millions of Jews? First cease control of all the newpapers and media outlets and begin a campaign about how superior the German was, and how inferior others were... and that for the good of the superior race and country, many would have to be done away with. Same thing. At least, that's what I think.. but don't listen to me. What the hell do I know? I'm just a dopey guy on a motorcycle who's brains have been likely scrambled by one too many drug experiments, whose screws have likely vibrated loose, and has had a melt-down from the extreme helmet heat. ;-)

During an absolutely magical massage, I thought about Barbara's lost love and asked,

"Do you have Jose's email address?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Do you ever send him a note or give him a call?"

"No, never. I swore I'd never speak to him again."

"I can't tell you how I know this, but I think you should send him an email the first chance you get. But, not as a girlfriend.. just as a friend. And, no matter what don't rush back to wherever he is. Wait. Send another friendly message to let him know you're OK and what you're up to and leave it at that."

"How do you know this?!"

"Like I said, I don't have a clue why I told you that. But in the past I've been correct about such things."

She began to cry tears of joy and thanked me. Said she was going to do it. I told her not to thank me. It wasn't "me" who told her that. I was just passing on information. I tried to pay her for the massage, but she wouldn't take it. I insisted and said $10 for an hour massage on the beach by a beautiful senorita was money well spent! She asked if I wouldn't just spend one more night talking with her, but I noticed a large extended Mexican family with a dozen screaming and laughing ninos had arrived armed with what looked like enough provisions of beer and diapers to last a week. I said, "No, I think I'll move on.. something tells me our peaceful little beach is going to be a little more noisy tonight." She looked around and grimaced. "Yes, I see what you mean. I think I might try to move on South before it gets too late myself." I bid her fond adios, mounted Ruby and took off into the soft sand before Ruby began to get too jealous. ;-)

(to be continued in part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.9)

8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.7

(continued from part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.6)

Along this coast you could stop at a completely different playita about every 15 minutes. Each one unique and some with no more than a single palapa restaurant and nothing else as far as the eye can see. Soon I came upon a sign for Fara de Bucieras and had it claimed to be one of the most beautiful little beaches on the Michoacan coast. And, because I only had maybe another hour or so of light left I discussed it with Ruby and she seemed content to take a little siesta in the shade. The little stone road snaked around and through a small village then turned into a sand passage running along the beach with a few palapa restaurants and tiendas. Poor Ruby was having a bit of go staying upright in the soft sand patches, what with her dual-sport high heels and all, she did the best she could and I propped her up to inspect the beach. The sun was about to set and the sweet little cove was rimmed with soft golden sand and a little stone island reachable via a short wade across a sand bar. And, seated crooked atop the little island was a simple little restaurant. I went back to told Ruby to relax, we'd be staying here a night or two.

I picked a palapa at the end of the beach assuming it'd be the most quiet. Negotiated a rate of $30 pesos for the night, hung my hammock next to Ruby under the main palapa, and settled in. Ahhh! Peace at last. Until, the workers who'd been building a new tienda next door started hammering and sawing again. No problemo, it was getting late and perhaps they'd soon finish for the day. Then, the family I rented the palapa space from had a couple little ninos who felt compelled to sing tunes at the top of their lungs inbetween fits of crying and screaming. No sweat, likely the little tykes would be put to bed soon. Then mamacita cranks up the TV I hadn't seen propped up on a stack of crates just a few feet from me. I guess it was time for her stories, and in order to fight the pesky noise of ocean wave, she had to blast the TV at full volume. Oh well, guess it was time for a walk. Eventually, when all had quieted down, I settled back into my hammock to let the waves lull me to sleep. That is, until the breeze ceased and the first wave of mosquitos descended upon me. I scrambled for my repellent and discovered I had just one squirt left in the bottle. And, without the breeze it was now quite balmy so it was either endure mosquitos or slather myself in the only repellent I had left which was mixed with oily sunscreen. I opted for greasy sweating over the onslaught of mosquitos and finally drifted off.

I don't know how long I actually got to sleep, but as soon as the sun began his ascent Papa decides he needs to catch up on the news and twists the TV volume past tolerable volume and into distortion territory. And, it wasn't even 7AM yet! Time to move on, or at least to a different palapa down the beach. I slung my salty greasy self out of the hammock and stumbled down the beach half awake until I hit about the middle and sat for a cup of coffee at one of the little restaurants on the beach. I'd stopped there the night before when I went for a walk and although the restaurant was closed, the woman sympathized with my abdominal malady and agreed to fix me a couple cups of herba buena tea to settle it a bit. As I sat I noticed a few other travelers were enjoying a nice and quiet mid morning sleep in their hammocks. And, because this spot was up on a ridge of sand looking down on the beach the wind coming off the Pacific was much stronger, ie. no mosquitos! I nearly ran back to tell Ruby the good news and within minutos I strapped everything half-packed onto Ruby and in no more that 20 minutes, I was again laying in my hammock caressed my mid morning sea breeze.

A bit later a nice Mexican woman named Irma who was camping under the same palapa with her little daughter Elizabeth came over and told me about all the sea turtles they'd seen the night before on a nearby beach. Muchas tortugas! Muchas! She asked if I would want to join her and a friend for a short drive down to the next playita to see the tortugas. I said sure, but that I'd prefer to follow with Ruby. She said I could ride in their car if I wanted, but if I just wanted to ride the moto she understood. We chatted for awhile after that as she told me about the area and of the sunken ships just off coast you could snorkle to. After she'd broken the ice and gone off down to chat with her friend, her little chubby daughter Elizabeth stayed behind and stared at me for a good while. Charming little girl, but a little bit more touchy feely than I'm accustomed to. I answered most of the barrage of questions she had for me that were as intriguing as, "How much did your Zippo cost? Where did you buy? Do you think they sell them in Guadalajara? Can I have yours?, etc." Eventually her mother graciously called her away and I slipped off for a little nap in the hammock. But, that bit of peace was short-lived as well. Elizabeth put her little face about an inch from mine as I slept, then growled like a tiger at the top of her lungs. Scared the tacos outta me and rattled off something profane in English. I was embarassed at what I'd said to little Elizabeth until I realized she only spoke Spanish. I tried to slip back to sleep, but Elizabeth wouldn't have it. She just plopped herself right on top of me and nestled herself into the hammock with me like a kitten. I just closed my eyes and pretended to sleep until she finally got bored and moved on. ;-)

(to be continued in part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.8)