Dia Tres, Onward Through the Fog

I've been thinking about my earlier posts, and feel like perhaps I'm not giving a clear picture of our adventure.  I've focused on the "what could possibly go wrong" part, in an attempt to amuse, entertain, and inform, but please, rest assured, the "go wrongs" are far outweighed by the "wowees" and the "yippees."

That said, I was sad to awaken on day three in my room at El Castillo, because I knew we were moving on, and I love that place.  The rainy forest was doing its rainy thing, which made for exciting getting-up-the-super-steep-hill from the parking lot, but we all made it, and I even was lucky and got Jim's bike up safely, too.  Jim, unfortunately, had concluded the trip was too arduous for him, and he planned to stop in Pachuca, a few hundred miles south, and then return home via the autopistas, which would be safe, smooth, and fast.  I hated to see him capitulate to his situation, but agreed with him that it was the best thing...as did all of us chickens.

So, off to the south on Mexico 85, through the cacophanous town of Tamazunchale, where I managed the feat of getting us lost twice doing the exact same thing, taking the same wrong detour twice.  On this trip I am rapidly losing my title of Loser of the Keys and ascending to Loser of the Way, since I am the Dear Leader, and have the gps.  Anyway, once past Tamazunchale we cross eastward on a slightly curvy road under heavy construction, still in the jungle-y stuff, so beautiful to our north of the border eyes, to the odd town of Huejutla, where we turn south towards Pachuca, and immediately climb and climb up spectacular mountain roads and scenery and perfect "I'm flying a small airplane whee" motorcycle riding, and...well, there IS a lot of fog along the way, but it doesn't dampen our spirits, and we adjust our speeds accordingly. This road, for the bike riders reading this, is world-class squiggle, in good enough shape to push when we want, so long as we watch out for the dread topes, the occasional truck in our lane, and other typical Mexican road impedimentia.

At some point our little group separates into two smaller groups, due to an inconvenient semi which grinds up the mountain, with three of us getting past, and the other three getting stuck.  Then one of the three had a very minor mechanical issue, which took some time to fix, the fog slowed them down, and they did the right thing, which was "If we get separated, everyone stops at the next Pemex station and waits for the rest to catch up" for half an hour, before deciding we other three were in fact still ahead.  We were, but hadn't followed the Pemex rule because in the fog we thought they were right behind us a half mile or so.  Regardless, we did follow Rule Two, which is "Don't worry about getting lost, I, Dear Leader, will always stop at every major turn and wait for all to catch up," which I did, sending Joe/Juanita and J. D. on ahead.  I, in an Einsteinian moment leave my ignition key on with the flashers going to warn the careening trucks and buses, and forget to switch off the uber-watt auxiliary lights.  The wait ended up being more than half an hour, which turns out to be exactly enough time to drain a good battery dead with the aux lights.  The three behind caught up, I waved Jim and Dave past, and stopped Garin, he being a strapping young man capable of helping me push start my bike, which actually took very little effort, and off the two of us went in pursuit of the rest of the crowd, having a ball on our little airplanes, zooming through the curves, literally in the clouds.

I was anxious to get to Pachuca before dark, but realized the late start, the fog, the mechanical issue, etc, made it unlikely, but I was determined to try.  We made it just after dark.  Very, very interesting, going through the rain/cloud forest for hours and hours, the suddenly, in the space of what seemed less than a mile, dropping through a piney forest out into an instant arid scenery complete with deep gulches, huge cacti, and more great motorcycle riding, now out in the clear, with the full moon rising on our left.  Spectacular, as I rocketed down the mountains to Pachuca.  Once there we pulled over, Jim had found a hotel on his GPS (those things can be handy), so we said our goodbyes, wished him luck, and took off in search of Cholula.

By now we were on autopista, and could really make time in between me getting us lost every half hour (this is not exactly true, but is the burden I must carry; actually, the nice lady inside my GPS unit kept getting us lost, but hey, the buck stops with the Dear Leader).  Joe/Juanita are always directly behind me about three feet, and Joe's headlights are aimed improperly, causing rear blindness on my part.  This became an issue when we stopped to hunch over the map and the GPS, and when we pulled away, Dave's bike wouldn't start, and the good son Garin stayed with him, and J. D. tried valiantly to signal me, but the Joe/Juanita lights blinded me to all that, until much, much later, the first time we got lost in Cholula.  Nothing to be done, and luckily nothing untoward happened, they got the bike started up after some fiddling and cursing, and made it to their hotel, probably before the rest of us got to ours, due to the Lady of the Unit. Or me.  Depending on your point of view.

Finally after several turnarounds and whichways, we managed to get to a fork in the road, and took it. No, that's Yogi Berra.  We stopped by the side of the road (remember, it's dark) and J. D. being in very dire straits, did that "MAN I GOTTA PEE" walk we all know, into the dark, while I tried to figure out which fork to take, and salvation arrived, bringing with it some financial heartache for J. D., in the form of three Mexican cops in a pickup.  They very seriously informed me that urination in public is a serious crime and I shouldn't do it. I pointed out that I did not do it.  They pointed out that the fine is 400 pesos, which I could pay on the spot.  I pointed out J. D.  J. D knew the drill, and after a desultory effort to negotiate a lower fine, he was back on his bike, light the 400 pesos, but feeling very much better about life due to the pressure relief.

The cops did save us, pointed out the proper fork, and 20 minutes later we were marveling at the wonderful accommodations of La Quinta Luna, perhaps the finest boutique hotel I've ever seen.  To bed, to sleep, to awake the next day, deliriously exhilarated from all the riding, all the adventures (the getting lost, not so much) to spend a day off the bikes.