Again, sleep was fitful and I was up early though a bit draggy. I got out with the camera and found a streetside cafe open, sipping a cappuccino while waiting for our breakfast rendezvous, a dusty dog my only companion. She was a sweetheart however, though quite insistent that I continue rubbing her neck and ears. No problem señorita, but I bet she'd learned not to take no for an answer from watching the caballeros and street vendors for many years.
Old Willys are pretty prevalent in the area - not just in Real but a lot of the surrounding villages
Eventually I saw Kathlijn cross the street into the restaurant and Hank a couple moments later. At breakfast, Kat said she definitely wanted to ride down to Potrero with us, despite having made a promise to her departed father at an early age she would never ride a motorcycle. There was a small discussion as to whether “technically” the promise covered riding one herself, or if it included being a passenger. Whether the story was true or not, it added some drama and she was excited to go. We said we'd stop by her hostel on the way out and pick her up.
Kat headed up the steep streets to collect her doodads, while we geared up and fired up the bikes. Motoring off the hotel sidewalk and down the steep street to begin working uphill to her hotel, she suddenly came running around the corner, much to my chagrin. Getting from our hotel up to the higher level streets was always a challenge, with very sharp off-camber uphill turns and the cobbles were heavily rutted on the route due to vehicles having to accelerate hard.
I had hoped to get through the tricky part before adding a passenger... Hank's smirk said "Good Luck Captain Kirk" and he motored away. Kat climbed on board, got settled and we headed off into the cobble streets and up the steep hills. Ensuring that I stay upright in the steep turns, I kept the speed up a bit and swung wide in a couple of turns, coming close enough to spook a couple of locals, myself included. I had rarely carried passengers, which dynamically change the handling on a bike at slow speeds especially, and Real De Catorce is not a place to practice!
Two up thru Real to the Tunnel
As we reached the tunnel, the guard waved us past and when we hit the cool humidity of the darkness and the pulsating lights, I heard Kat yell out "Wow this is great!!!" and I finally relaxed a bit. When we exited 2 miles later into the sun, to an incredible valley vista she again shouted out. The ride down was slow and controlled for her benefit, but it was a lot of fun enjoying another's enthusiasm.
We stopped in the small village of Potrero, located in the valley beneath Real and shot some pics, Kat having brought her camera as well. Hank had been asked by the suspension manufacturer to write a short review of the product and also requested pics of him, along with his own photography, so I've been shooting images of Hank along the way in various locales and situations.
MotoHank and his 1995 BMW R1100GS, Potrero, S.L.P.
We slowly motored along in the village until Kat spotted her artist friend Manuel. He waved and greeted her, then we were invited to his house and workshop. He had a great little house, his artistry displayed in many forms, from wooden furniture to handmade knives and things in between.
Manuel
Some serious dreads
Entrance to La Casa de Manuel
Garden
Workshop
After the house tour and conversation, Hank asked about some ruins near the town and Manuel directed us which way to go. Kat had planned to stay with him, but asked if she could come along to the ruins. Katlijn was a photographer as well, having shown us some of her work at breakfast that day. She was interested in photographing the ruins as well.
We headed out on a dirt street which quickly disappeared into single track, then into nothing but rocks and cactus. Nothing like baby-head rocks and off-road terrain with a fully loaded GS and a passenger. Luckily Kat was oblivious to the difficulty and enjoyed the experience.
After a while of scattering horses and burros we spotted the ruins ahead. The old building had been a train station for the mines at some point, the steel rails having disappeared long ago. Luckily the temp was a little cool, the sunlight filtered by very high clouds, which in a way made the entire place feel very surreal, the light being very different than normal.
Two up to the ruins
Kat photographed a lot of the flora
Train cars ran on rails in the ditch, ore being loaded into the top
Exploring and shooting around the place for a while, “comida” became the order of the day. After a bit of doing to get the bikes turned around in the loose rocks, the ride back out was a bit hairy and I almost dumped it in the loose gravel of a water crossing.
When we got back to Potrero for a Coke to cool off, Manuel had sent word through a local that he had been cooking frijoles and wanted us to come to his home again and have lunch.
We ended up spending the afternoon eating flaming hot spiced frijoles with cabrito (which looked suspiciously like sliced up Oscar Meyer weiners) talking about art, photography, music, energy, his 4 foot long dreadlocks and the custom work he does on most anything.
Actually there was cabrito in the soup and the fresh-off-the-stove-burner tortillas were great
Manuel produced several large knives he'd made for customers, using very old machete blades with new exotic wood handles and inlays. He also made a lot of rustic and simple furniture designs.
Beavis and Butthead
I located a leather sheathed machete on his mantle, the blade making the most amazingly movie-like "shingggg" sound as it came out of the scabbard. The whinging blade became a source of entertainment for the afternoon, at least for me, and the others probably played along - after all, I did have a machete... The blade was very old and worn, with a U. S. manufacturer's name stamped or engraved in it. Manuel explained that custom knife and machete purchasers highly coveted the old U.S. made steel that had been brought into Mexico in the 1800’s and 1900’s as common steel for machetes, knives and tools for farmers. Much of it was still in the hands of old farmers naturally, so Manuel sourced the prized steel from locals, the deal being that he would make them a new custom knife for every 10 old knife blades they brought him. It was a fair way for them to get a new custom knife and Manuel said he was able to cull a couple of blades out of every 10 for his business.
Manuel was an interesting guy, having worked in the movie industry in Monterrey and also his father's business, alternating a few months of work with some time spent in Potrero in his art workshop, isolated from all distractions of the modern world. A great host, opening his home, making killer strong coffee from fresh hand-ground coffee beans and cooking for us - a true gentleman. Even after two weeks of pooping fire from the unbelievably hot peppers he used in the beans, I still considered him a gentleman.
We still wanted to explore a bit more, having spotted a road and old church sitting on a hill outside La Luz on our way to Potrero. Manuel insisted we stop at the "store" on the way out to have our picture taken by him. He had a series of photos of interesting people he'd met always photographed at the same spot.
The store turned out to be the little shed selling Cokes, chips and candy on the main street.
Hank in front of “the store”
We had a laugh taking pics of him, taking pics of us…
Some discussion ensued later as to whether he had the legs to pull off a tribal skirt or not
The Mod Squad, complete with our first groupie, Humberto
As the shadows lengthened, we knew it was time to go searching in earnest before the light was gone and said our goodbyes.
I handed my camera to Kat and tasked her with shooting images from the back of the bike.
Leaving Portrero by Kathlijn
Heading to back to the village of La Luz and up a dirt road seeking a church perched high on the mountainside, we climbed higher and higher. We continued, never finding the access road to the church above despite passing just beneath it.
At one switchback, an old, white mini-bus was parked and I was informed by Kat that it belonged to "Miguel", a friend of theirs from the hotel.
We decided to forge ahead to see if we could find the crest of the mountains we were in, eventually ending up in high valleys and looking down on stone fenced corrals and ruins below. Hank said it reminded him of the high plains in Bolivia.
Our travel led us into land with no signs of humanity other than stone fences.
The sun was getting low, the wind was blowing and the remote beauty was engaging.
Not a soul in sight but the three of us.
The remote solitude of the place made the perfect location for Kat to excuse herself and take a potty break. She disappeared around a curve as Hank and I looked the other way. Moments later we heard a squeal and saw Kat walking quickly and fiddling with her clothes, just as a lone local man on a little moto came riding past. Impeccable timing on his part, but we all laughed at his sudden appearing at the worst possible moment.
Hank asked the guy what lay ahead and he said there was a village at the end of the road a few miles ahead.
Mountain Road Montage
We continued on a ways along the ridge tops, but as the sun got pretty low we turned back not wanting to be caught after dark. Hank and I were determined to find the end of this new road, but not this day…
Eventually we got back to the switchback where Miguel's white mini-bus was parked and Kat left a note for him on the windshield.
As we passed the old church again, we finally spotted the access road climbing steeply to it, so deeply rutted from rains that we’d passed it, assuming it was a rain ditch. The day was late and none of us had the enthusiasm to hike up the rutted way to the church, so it too was left for further exploration some day.
The village of La Luz
We rumbled through La Luz again, then the rattly cobble road up the mountain and into the musty tunnel we’d come to love.
We all met at the little cafe which served cheap gorditas, and while discussing all manner of things, a white dusty minivan came around the corner. Kat and Ariana shouted and waved at the driver to park and dine with the group on crunchy gordita goodness. Turns out it was "Miguel', whose van we'd passed on the mountain road and it also turned out "Miguel" is actually "Mikhail", a painter from Latvia who has been spending a long time in Real, going out into the mountains to paint. Miguel was quiet natured but friendly and laughed a lot - very nice guy to be around.
Turned out to be a great day of riding, exploring and relaxing.
More tomorrow amigos