Zacatecas was a city that reminded me of Rome in many ways, the only city I can compare it to since I've not been to Spain. It's a place that needs to be explored and discovered over several days but I really liked it, despite the intensity of the traffic at the time we arrived.
I didn’t get much sleep due to staying up until 2 am, then getting up at 6 am to upload the ride blog. We were to leave the garage at 9 am sharp.
At 6 am, the streets were completely deserted and the cool air felt nice. I had planned to seek café on the street, but decided to use the hotel breakfast bar instead. I was under the impression that breakfast was included and after coffee and the ride report upload I walked out, only to be chased by the waiter as if I were a thief. The bill was for 22 pesos, about 1 dollar US. All I had was a 500 peso bill after I’d used up the smaller bills for tolls and he turned his nose up. I went to the room and scraped up 21 pesos in coins, being 1 peso shy and upon paying him swore I'd return yet again with a single peso. We’d paid 1700 pesos for the room, and you'd think they could spare a cup of coffee but "no".
Both Cullen and I have been squeezed for pesos in smaller denominations and at gas stops we swap and loan pesos back and forth both for gas and the ever present toll booths. Showing a 500 peso bill seemed to scare folks and they refused to accept them. The tolls have ranged significantly in price so you never know if you've got enough small bills or big ones.
We were loaded and idling by about 9:15 am, my mind engulfed about the potential brake issue as we climbed the steep ramp up and into the streets. I tried extremely hard to stay off the brakes by using gearing, expecting brake failure at any moment. We eventually made it out of the city and onto the highway heading for the town of Aguascaliente at high speed. I rode behind the group as we progressed until my brakes proved reliable. We fell into thick traffic and narrow streets in the centro district of Aguascaliente, searching for the way south to Leon.
Downtown Aguascaliente…
Our plan had been to reach Leon, then go west and catch MX 37 south to Uruapan to get off the tollways. We got lost in Aguas, it was hot, we were sweating and seemed to wander back and forth in the town until finally a cab driver led us out the correct direction. He also warned us that MX 37 was loaded with big trucks and we should stay on the tollways to Morelia instead. With the heat and traffic, I had forgotten my worry about the brakes which were working better, just a little spongier than usual.
When we finally broke free of Aguas and got going south, the wind felt wonderful and my temp gauge returned to 5 bars from its 9 bar position idling in traffic.
Descending into the volcanic region near Morelia, it was exciting to see a volcano off to the left, with either clouds or steam covering the top. The region had much water and hills, usual in an area of calderas. Quite a change from the desert scrub we'd been in.
When we reached the town of Morelia, I experienced the craziest ride of my life. Traffic had thickened and again, being on the tail, it was a major workout to stay with Hank. We hit a very long traffic jam that slowed to a stall, a three lane road suddenly containing five lanes of traffic. In Mexico, lane splitting for motorcycles is not only legal, but expected. If you fit, you can go. The lane splitting began quickly, at which point we all eventually were separated as we squeezed our way between cars, trucks, buses and semis. It was my first time to ride like that, literally pushing your way in and out of cars, squeezing within an inch or less between buses, cabs, cars and semis.
If ever I wish I'd had my GoPro helmet cam on and running, it was then, but I didn’t have time to mess with it. I would see Hank several cars ahead in one lane, Cullen passing in a ditch to my right, Jimmy behind me at one moment, then ahead of me in another lane the next. I'd cut between semis and ride the right side ditch and see no one, then see Rob passing two lanes over and no sign of anyone else. Then I’d get wedged and stuck going nowhere, only to see Hank pass from behind me three lanes over, having no idea how he ended up behind me. It was true craziness.
Eventually the bottleneck cleared up and we all seemed to morph back together. Then the real fun began.
A couple miles up the road the traffic stalled into another mass and we again ended up separated and wrestling. I have to admit, the adrenaline grabs you and it becomes such a rush you forget about the dangers and just go for it. At one point I ended up behind Cullen and his KTM, lodged between a truck and a new Volvo sedan. As I sat behind him, he began to move forward, forgetting that his Touratech panniers were wider than his handlebars. I could tell he was going to catch the Volvo’s passenger and tried to yell at him, but he couldn’t hear and accelerated, snapping off the mirror, unbeknownst to him. The mirror fell to the pavement and his rear wheel ran over it. The Volvo began honking furiously as Cullen cut directly in front of it, oblivious, and began squeezing alongside the inner curb. The Volvo accelerated and jumped the median into the opposing lane trying to catch Cullen, honking wildly. Cullen probably assumed it was a maniac and went even faster to get away. I followed in morbid wonder until the Volvo gave up chase and crossed back over the grass median behind me. Cullen had made a sharp right angle cut back across the traffic and disappeared.
I finally broke free of the jam and got moving again only to see Rob parked and waiting on the side of the road. I hadn’t seen Hank, Jimmy or anyone else for so long I assumed they were far ahead of me. I pulled over to talk to Rob and heard another rider, pull up behind me, who it was I couldn’t see. Rob and I assumed the others were long gone ahead of us and decided to ride on a short ways.
We had just stopped at a crazy intersection and were trying to decide what to do, when from behind we heard yelling "Go to the right, go to the right!!!" I did a hard right and was then passed by Hank, Jimmy and Cullen, a yellow cab in hard pursuit. I was surprised Rob and I had managed to get in front of the others, but had no idea why they were being chased by a cab.
Rob and I weaved and bobbed in the traffic, riding fast until eventually catching Hank and several miles later reaching a place where we pulled over for gas. When I took my jacket off, sweat literally ran out like water. We were all exhausted from the heat and stress and just sat like sweaty zombies.
The story eventually emerged that someone had clipped the yellow cab and the driver had given chase, much like as had happened with Cullen. Another of the group confessed to his rear passenger peg hooking the tail pipe of an old pickup and bending it as he rode by. Cullen had no idea he had even been involved in an accident until I told him.
I felt bad that our group had had some small incidents, but Hank said as a gringo, to never, ever stop for traffic incidents because you’d end up in jail no matter what. I had no doubt he spoke truth since he’d led tours into Mexico for 30 years, but I felt bad for the innocent folks who were sitting placidly in the jam and now had to deal with hassles of minor repairs, though small.
The weird thing is, I totally enjoyed the crazy experience of working through a traffic jam by lane splitting, though obviously not the accidental damage done by a couple of the bikes.
We got moving again for Uruapan, leaving the volcanic region and quickly climbing into hills, trees, and pines. It was surreal after so much time in the hot desert areas.
We had to race to get to the rally before dark and get the hotel, get registered and attend an event. With that in mind, we followed the typical rules of the road in Mejico. Slower vehicles to the right and passing at speed to the left. In the undulating hills and mountains, we flew along, flashing past semi's, cars and anything slower than us.
Most memorable pass of my day? Well there were several, but the one that takes the cake was the uphill pass I made around a huge tourist coach at about 70 mph. Just as I got adjacent to the bus, the driver decided to suddenly pull out to pass a slow moving semi on the uphill with no warning. Whether he saw me or not, I was forced me to pass the coach and semi who were side by side simultaneously, forcing me completely onto the far shoulder of the opposite lane, barely missing oncoming traffic before racing past them on their roadside shoulder. It was nuts but I sure felt alive!
To put all this in perspective, I ride safely and conservatively generally, but in Mexico anything goes and you have to drive like they do or you’ll end up in trouble.
Finally reaching Uruapan, there was a group of folks waving placards and cheering for us as we entered the town. It was pretty cool. As we got deeper into the city, I could tell Uruapan was very different than the other towns we’d experienced. It was more of what I'd imagine a Central or South American town would be like. The people looked different, the town was older and dirtier, but I liked the feeling.
As we motored along the streets, people would stare and wave. They were not used to seeing the bikes and riders. Small motorcycles would pull alongside to ride with us and smile. When we reached the main square, there were large parking areas filled with BMW's and a street literally lined bumper to bumper with Federale Police trucks for an entire block. We’d continually passed through road blocks by the military, state and federal police, having been pulled over by masked men in the black uniforms to check papers and look us over, but the police were out in full force for the rally.
We found the hotel and a gaggle of BMW's parked on the street. Weary, worn and wind-beaten. I pulled my helmet off, sweaty hair hanging in my face and got off the bike. People on the sidewalks were taking pictures of us and standing around. I turned around and a young lady ran up to me and in Spanish asked if she could have her picture taken with me. I was shocked, so smelly and so sweaty I simply burst out laughing. Her boyfriend asked me to put my arm around her and smile and he composed the shot to frame us with the bike. That was certainly a "first" amongst a day of many "firsts."
The hotel staff were excited to help us and as we checked in and generally sorted things, more and more riders began arriving. Cullen and I dragged gear inside and then rode down the street to the secure parking garage, where he began checking the success of his crankcase breather hose / oil collection bottle. He'd rigged a coke bottle, stuffed with a rag to collect his oil residue. It had worked well.
Hard to see but the upside down coke bottle stuffed with a rag…
And speaking of bike issues, my GS had begun to run better. From a low of 27 mpg from Laredo to Monterrey, the bike had climbed to 39 mpg several times. With the wind drag of my height, weight and fully loaded bike I'll take that any day. We have been at altitudes of 6000 to 9000' and my GS usually gets great mileage in thin air. The stress of running out of gas was easing.
As to the brake issue, I was getting some weird ABS faults and resets but the brakes were working, though a bit weaker. I hoped the fluid had just gone past its prime and a good flush and fill would solve the issue. At any rate, the day's insanity tested them well and I didn't lose the rear, though I tried hard to baby it.
After hotel check-in, Hank and I wandered over to register at the rally, ogling the vendors, bikes and multitudes of riders. Of course I didn't have a clue of what was being said since I speak no Spanish, but smiling a lot seemed to help.
The locals and most people were nothing but courteous and friendly.
If you look closely you'll see the street is lined bumper to bumper with Federal Police trucks with belt fed machine guns. We assume they were there for the rally
BMW Rally Registration
One thing I learned about the Rally and BMW riders in Mexico is that rider’s clubs are very important, with different towns and regions having their own clubs. These clubs sponsor the national rally, which occurs in different regions, hosted by the local club.
We were given a bunch of swag!
After registration they bussed us to the main event at another hotel - entertainment, fresh cooked tamales and enchiladas, drinks and local music.
We mingled and had a great time, despite the fatigue of a very long and very stressful day. I met so many nice folks who went out of their way to accommodate me by speaking in English as best as they could.
Truly a wild, woolly and rich day.
The Route:
