We're in Mexico!

OK, the last post we left you hanging with our intrepid heroes about to leave the known for the unknown.

Nuevo Laredo is in the middle a drug war. Most Texans steer clear if they can. While we didn't have that option we certainly didn't want to spend any more time than we had to. Luckily for us it didn't take long to weave our way out of NL and were on the highway to Monterrey. 26 km in there is a checkpoint used mostly to prevent people from importing goods and furniture without paying taxes. I approached the checkpoint and was "green lighted" through. Alfred was forced to pull over. Now I'm not going to say it was because with 8 week head start on a hideous beard he looked like a cross between Ted Kaczyinksi and Chuckie Manson. Maybe it was blind luck. Yeah, right. The federales didn't detain Ted Manson long and we were on our way once again.

It was a surprise to find how nice the toll road (Quota) was. It was as good as any road in the US. Of course at $20 it ought to be. The landscape was nice though not that different from Southern Texas. Dry grass and shrubs and the occasional cactus. I forget exactly how far of a ride we had, something like 100 miles. That's not a bad ride though we already covered 250 miles. It was getting late and we knew we knew we wanted to be in Monterrey before dark. RULE #1 Never drive at night in Mexico. OK we know that. The problem is that road travel is slower in Mexico. Checkpoints, highways grinding to a halt as you go through towns, donkeys, dogs, the occasional stop to stretch your legs. The obstacles are never ending. That being said we rolled into Monterrey at dusk, on a Friday night. Every car, truck and motorcycle in the city of 3.6 million was on the road. We're reasonably smart guys so we did what any reasonably smart guys would do. With reckless abandon we plunged into the sea of vehicles and exhaust fumes, at one point my eyes burned until tears streamed down my face in a torrent and followed the signs to the hotel zone. We played this sick game of "Attempt to terrify the gringos with your SUV", until the last sign disappeared. I forgot to mention that it was raining again. So you dear reader, paint the picture in your head. I'll give you some details once more. 700 miles in two days. Freezing cold, dirty diaper, crossing a drug war zone and being harassed by vehicular terrorists. At this point we were exhausted and needed to stop. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night. Welcome to the hotel Days Inn. I know what what you're thinking, "come all this way to stay at a bastion of Americana". We didn't care we we're just happy to be off the bikes.

We ate dinner at a place specializing in cabrito. For you gringos who do not know what what this is, it's baby goat. While we ate we were treated to the newest Rocky movie, "Rocky XX, the Geriatric years". This is the same movie in theatres right now. I guess Mexico has different copyright laws.

After dinner we walked around getting blood back into our legs. The area we were in was not impressive so we headed back to our oasis and reflected on the day, happy to be alive.

The next morning armed with daylight and a bit more knowledge of this stinking city we negotiated the would be terrorists who at this point tired of trying to kill us. With no disrespect meant to the good people of Monterrey, I did not find a single redeeming thing about the city, except for catching me up on the latest installment of "Rocky, aint we had enough".

Our destination for the day was the Spanish colonial city of Zacatecas. Zac was one of the cities made rich by the discovery of gold and silver. About 45 minutes into our ride we passed through Saltillo, a reasonably modern city which looked quite livable. I mean, not for me but for you, the reader. We circled the city twice before we found our highway, heading SW. Outside of Saltillo we got our first taste of the Sierra Madres mountain range.

The twisties helped make the ride more interesting. We stopped for lunch at a roadside building with 2 foot thick walls and all the charm of a Chinese prison. The joint was run by presumably a family made up of 5 women age ranging from 5 to 80. We enjoyed pollo asado and realized we're finally in Mexico. Alfred spread good cheer by giving the youngest girl several faux bracelets. They could've been diamond encrusted the way she beamed when presented with the crown jewels.

Shortly after this the twisties stopped and we entered a fairly flat slowly rising plateau, dipping occasionally into wide deep valleys before levelling out again. At the time we didn't know it but we would ride for approximately 200 miles through this land. Our landscape was changing with different cacti and palms we had never seen before.

All was going well and we were making decent time. It was still cold so we stopped more than usual but at least it wasn't raining. We were about 70 miles outside Zac when Alfred's KLR died while cruising down the road. We were in the middle of the desert with hardly a sign of life around. Alfred began to diagnose the problem to no avail. After 10 minutes the bike started but ran poorly. Because of this and other time killers we came out of the desert in the dark and limped into Zac. Yes, I know, we broke RULE #1, again. Oh, guess what, the rain began to fall.

That's all for now my pretties. Tune in next time for "What the hell were we thinking".