FA GOMERA, GUATEMALA AND MEXICO TRIP

by Ted Hutz

JANUARY 1998

Just what is La Gomera, where is it, and why would anyone wish to go there?
Lee Wolff had actually lived there 26 years ago during his hippie phase. He
operated a small repair shop, fixing tractors, trucks, and diesel buses for
a modest living. He spoke to Ted Hutz and Pat Holland about the cheap
booze, nubile maidens and nearby pristine beaches. That is all we needed to
hear, so a trip was proposed. We hustled some of the other adventurers in
the Club without success, and then we advertised in the Club Newsletter. We
added Henrik Furtauer as #4 on our roster. The trip was scheduled for
January, and budgeted for $1500 to $2000 during the four weeks. Pat and Ted
sneaked over to Tucson in early December and parked their bikes at a
friend's house to avoid riding in the January rain and fog in the valley.
Lee left Fresno before New Year's day to visit family in L.A., and then
additional family in Safford, Arizona. We planned to team up in Deming, New
Mexico the evening of January 3rd. Henrik left his home in Carmichael prior
to Lee to visit friends in Ventura and go surfing. However, he got into a
pileup on the freeway during rush hour down there and wound up in the
hospital having his spleen removed. When his parents phoned us Tuesday
evening, we knew we were back to the original three riders.
Pat and Ted flew out on the earliest flights Southwest had, landing in
Tucson at 10:30 AM, going out to the friend's house, repacking the bikes,
and hitting the road by 1PM. We arrived at Deming at dusk and went to the
Six Motel. While Pat was registering for his single room. Ted cruised the
parking lot and found Lee in residence and moved in. A few minutes later
Pat showed up and told us that coincidentally as he was signing the
register, Henrik phoned the Motel desk from his hospital bed and spoke to
Pat. He was apologizing for his mishap and not being able to make the trip
with us. What a guy!! He was apologizing to us for his crash. I hope
Henrik recovers and will accompany us the next time. He certainly has
huevos.... so we had our sundown drink and chatted about the next day...
then a loud knocking at the door. Someone was yelling OPEN UP! OPEN UP! Lee
opened the door and guess who?? Bruce Cleaton. Bruce is a survivor of the
trip to Guatemala-Belize-Cancun six years ago. He dropped out of the Club
and moved to Albuqerque two years ago. Bill Jinnett and Ted had come home
the long way from Salt Lake City in April and visited with him...so we were
still in touch. But Lee and Pat had not seen Bruce for more than two years.
They were really stunned. Ted had tipped Bruce secretly that they would be
at the Six Motel that evening. He had driven all the way down from
Albuquerque just to have dinner and a few drinks with us. To do that is
real deep friendship. Thanks Bruce!!

Day #2, Sunday. January 4

Ted likes to get an early start. We left the Six Motel at 5:30 AM. The
idea was to reach Las Cruces before sun-up, turn the corner and head South
to El Paso and Del Rio, Texas without riding into the sun. Bruce slept in
that morning. We will see him again, perhaps if we go to the Copper Canyon
next year. We did 515 miles easily because the roads in Texas are good, and
posted either 70 or 75 mph. In the afternoon, at Judge Roy Bean Memorial
gas stop, a Chilean drove up in a Toyota Land Cruiser. He had been on the
Coastal highway in Mexico from Acapulco to Puerto Vallarta the week
previous. He told us not to worry about road damage from hurricane Pauline.
It had been repaired. Small world isn't it? Think of the probability of
meeting someone under those circumstances. We made the border, crossed, got
our Mexican Tourist cards and importation permits for the motorcycles. Cost
of $11 on the credit card for the vehicle permit. (Plus the nominal "tip"
of $1 Ted always gives to keep everyone smiling.) We found a hotel on the
Mexican side for $30 with an enclosed courtyard to secure the bikes and
called it a day.

Day #3, Monday, January 5

We left Ciudad Acuna at 6 AM in the tule fog from the Rio Grande River. The
first two hours were slow. Fog, dark and poor road put us into Allende for
breakfast and money changing. We got $7.90 pesos to the dollar. Up in the
northern reaches of Mexico, there is hardly any rural population because the
area is desert. The people cluster in the cities, normally sustained by
heavy industry. The roads are straight and lightly traveled. We passed
Monclova which has the worst case of industrial smog I have ever seen.
Perhaps a steel mill burning coal? Onward to Saltillo (General Motors has
their car assembly plant there) and reach Matehuala before dark. Ted
persuaded the lady motel owner to rent a double room for $15, and allow us
to park the bikes in the locked gift shop right by the front door for easy
access. There were steps and a tight turn between the lobby and the interior
courtyard. We sat in the patio, having our sundowners, after covering 470
miles. We had chosen this particular routing to be able to ride Texas
highways one more day, and also avoid the Mexican "autopista" toll highways
as long as possible. So far it was working well.

Day #4, Tuesday. January 6

The night watchman helped us back the bikes out of the gift shop. We rolled
onto the highway just as the first light grayed the mountains to the east.
From Matehuala to Queretaro the Mexican federal government has just
completed a beautiful 250 mile stretch of concrete divided highway with a
posted 70 mph limit. So we rolled at 75 enjoying every moment of it. But
watch out!! We are coming upon a LOADED TRUCK struggling up a shallow grade
at 30 mph. Be safe and check the rear view mirror before you change lanes!!
The flyspeck" in your mirror is overtaking at slightly less than the speed
of sound. Wait a moment---whoosh!! There they go. Mom, Pop, and the kids
in a small four door water cooled VW sedan. They are going somewhere in one
hell of a hurry. You may think you are passing everyone when you roll along
at 75, but not so. The Mexicans will fly past you at 100 mph. It is not
always the little VW that blows your doors off, but that car appears to be
the #1 choice of the Mexican high-speed touring set. The differential
passing speed they overtake trucks with is absolutely mind boggling. Can
you think of passing someone at 100 mph while they are doing only 30 mph?
At Queretaro the highway turns easterly toward Mexico City, and things get
exciting. It is still a divided highway, but now we have lots more traffic.
They are working on the road, probably going to widen it to six lanes, but
temporarily pinching it off here and there. Everyone speeds as fast as he
can, and jockeys for position against the trucks and breakdowns in the slow
lane. God was with us, and we reached the end of the divided highway at the
northwest corner of Mexico City. The metropolitan area sprawls all over the
Valley of Mexico. Perhaps fifty miles on each side, with 20 million
inhabitants. It is a mess!! Bad tasting smog, thick brown air. Pat said
his eyes stung. But we stumbled along, asked directions and found Lopez
Mateos Boulevard. That is a circular thoroughfare that goes around what was
formally the perimeter of Mexico City. We went along on Lopez Mateos a
while, and then Ted lost it. We asked directions here and there five or six
times. Got on a periferico for a ways, turned onto another street which has
a sign pointing to Puebla. This took one and a half hours. Then Ted spoke
to someone who mentioned Zaragoza Street, which we knew ended at the
beginning of the "autopista" at the southeast corner of Mexico City. We
found Zaragoza Street, stayed on it for a while and lo and behold we were
back on the divided highway again. Man, did that feel great!! To zoom along
at 70 mph heading uphill and out of the Valley of Mexico toward Puebla and
Vera Cruz. Who cares if it costs 10 cents US for each mile you ride on the
autopista???

To operate a motor vehicle in Mexico City without injury, one
needs eyes in the back of his head, and nerves of steel. It is a scramble
on city streets. It is getting cold as we approach the pass in the
mountains leaving the Valley of Mexico. It must be something between ten
and twelve thousand feet. Then downhill to Puebla. We pay toll a couple of
times. Later Puebla (with the big VW plant) is past and we still roll on
into the dusk. Ted misses the turnoff to Jalpa, the last town of any size
where we might secure a motel. Onward in the gathering dark to the
autopista intersection where one can turn south and go toward Oaxaca. It is
dark now. Ted chases a bus. Pat chases Lee. We finally get to Tehuacan,
where they bottle the famous Tehuacan mineral water. Distance 600 miles.
Tough day, and Ted is in the doghouse. Even finding a motel with a $7.50
double room does not exonerate him. But, we walk out of the motel and down
the street a couple of doors and find A HOLE IN THE WALL RESTAURANT. We
stumble onto our "very best" meal. $1.25 buys a steak dinner, with beans,
rice, salad, tortillas and rolls. The proprietor's laughter is charming and
beer is only 50 cents a bottle. Ted is now restored to an honorable status.
So far, perfect clear, warm weather.

Day #5. Wednesday. January 7

We had a late start at 7 AM today, hoping perhaps our "hole in the wall"
bargain restaurant might be open for breakfast--but no luck. So out of town
and back on the autopista heading south through the mountains toward Oaxaca,
one hundred and fifteen miles away. What a glorious ride on a perfect day!!
The autopista cuts through very rugged country, with wide sweeping turns,
and lots of uphill and downhill stuff. Spectacular vistas. Probably the
best ride of the trip. At least it was a hell of a lot more pleasant than
the battle to cross the Valley of Mexico. We landed in Oaxaca around
mid-morning, parked adjacent to the cathedral and took a look at downtown.
The main plaza is roped-off to prevent vehicle traffic. Beautiful shade
trees, lots of people strolling about, and European sidewalk cafes. We sat
down and had a fine Mexican breakfast with prompt service and unlimited
French bread. A bit pricey for us, $2.50 each. It was so superb we tipped
the waitress, something we seldom do in the bare bones establishments we
normally patronize. Lots of European tourists wandering about. Lee and Ted
played games trying to guess the nationality of the groups of young girls
passing our table. We departed before noon and took the old regular Mexican
highway south toward Tehuantepec, one hundred sixty miles away. It took
four hours, and if you are keen for some really tight, challenging mountain
riding, this is a good choice. Lee's clutch cable broke right in front of a
beer "deposito", but he had the replacement part. It took two beers to
change it out, and while parked there, two GS riders from Florida stopped to
chat. They were from Daytona, and had tailored their bikes to Texas and
took off from there. Neither spoke Spanish, but they were having the time
of their lives regardless, turning off on any dirt road that seemed
interesting, and going wherever it went. A couple of times, they went in
fifty miles to a dead end, and had to come back out the same way. They were
heading north, so Ted suggested they check out Puerto Angel and Playa Azul.

We proceeded to the south to get past the Juchitan/La Ventosa "wind tunnel"
where the wind sometimes comes down from the north and literally blows the
trucks right off the road. We made it to the
Tapantepec road junction. Lee and Pat stopped at the north end of town to
chat with a passerby. Ted went out scouting for the proper motel. There is
part science and part art to this motel scouting. First of all, you narrow
it down to motels that are on the side of the road not favored by the
entering traffic, and you try to find one poorly signed, or obstructed by
adjoining buildings etc. Additionally it must have an enclosed, secure area
for the bikes and pliable management. We struck oil once more. Back off the
road among big trees, large rooms and ceiling fans for only $7.50 a double.
Also, the owners catered a small restaurant. We had another carne asada
meal, this time for $1.50 with beer for $1.50 per liter. Not outstanding,
but certainly within our budget. Ted is now completely pardoned. We only
went 300 miles that day.

Day #6, Thursday, January 8

We departed at dawn on the last leg to the border of Guatemala and La
Gomera. The highway was sort of one half autopista and one half "libre".
with turnoffs here and there so one could avoid the toll booths if one knew
what was coming. We got stuck for toll once, and found a spotless, clean
place for breakfast. We tipped there for the second time on this trip.
(Yes, she was very cute as well.) We were in the Chiapas Lowlands, very
green and tropical. Beautiful!! We reached the border slightly after
twelve. Getting out of Mexico and having your passport stamped is pleasant,
but getting into Guatemala is a nosebleed. Approaching the river bridge,
one is accosted by "facilitators" riding push bikes, who offer to speed you
through the paperwork. You are well advised to use them, but keep your
hand on your wallet. There are four separate agencies you must deal with
to clear Guatemala, each with forms to stamp and sign. A small fee is
requested and a small bribe in addition. Ted's facilitator asked $30 to
cover everything at which point Ted went on strike and sat down and said he
wasn't going any further. So Lee stepped in, smoothed things over and
negotiated a price of $8 per head, and we would tip each facilitator $2.50.
They grumbled about this offer, and grudgingly accepted it. I almost
forgot---before the border we stopped in Tapachula, a medium sized Mexican
city. Hot and humid down there, so the pace of life is slow. An attractive
Plaza with highly trimmed and sculptured trees. Lots of birds in the trees.
We changed some pesos for Guatemalan quetzales, and found Mexican
"Presidente" Brandy on sale for $5 a liter. Bought some in case we had a
drought, then onward from the border in Guatemala. Lee took over the lead.
We went on the main Highway #2 from the border toward Guatemala City
absolutely balls to the walls. Everyone down there drives as fast as they
can. Up hill. Down hill. Around the corners and at the detours, all
vehicles are vying for position. It really is exciting, but you truly need
to believe that God is watching and you will not be called away from this
Earth before your time is up. About one hundred miles of this, riding
through rolling green countryside planted to coffee or sugar cane, and we
reached the turn-off near La Democracia and headed back down to the coastal
lowlands. It got dark quickly as we went off the paved highway and onto the
all-time roughest major road I have ever seen. It had been paved years ago
and let go to hell. Huge 34-wheeled sugar cane trucks and farm produce
trucks just beat it to pieces. The pot holes were on the order of fox holes
and shallow trenches. You could not zig-zag around all of them. The big
trucks came up out of the lowlands with clouds of dust. When an opposing
truck passed you could not see a thing for ten or twenty yards. We prayed
that no one was passing the truck just then. Pat stood up on his pegs and
pulled away from us. Lee and Ted struggled on at 20 mph and reached La
Gomera an hour later.

The town had grown since Lee's time. Now 37,000
population. with paved main streets, a movie theater, three hotels, and
countless bars, and various commercial establishments. We went straightaway
to the bar Lee formerly patronized, but it was under new management. Beer
was now sold at twice the fair market value, but served by a bevy of
attractive "hostesses" who wagged their tails at us, parading back and forth
to the beer box. We had one beer and left to find a hotel. We were
recommended to the Talisman Hotel owned by a "Juanaca" (slang for a woman
from El Salvador). She had two rooms for $8.50 each, and she took us there.
It turned out she had only one room which Pat took. Ted shared some of the
"Presidente" brandy with her, and then it was okay for Lee and Ted to sleep
on the garage floor. She went and got mattresses, but would not budge on
the amount. Lee says all the "Juanacas" are tough with the money, but Ted
felt chastened not to have compromised the rent, or the owner or something.

Day #7, Friday, January 9

We rested on our laurels this morning and slept in. We left the Talisman
Hotel and locked up the gate on our way to the marketplace for breakfast.
Lee looked up a couple of old friends who were truly surprised to see him.
They recognized him. Called him "El Aleman". We left town about 11 AM
heading down the same rough road for another 18 miles. It wasn't so bad in
the daylight with a fresh start, and knowing we were at the end of our
quest, the beach town of Sipicate. But it did not work out that way. Lee
had forgotten that Sipicate was on a lagoon, not the beach. One could take
a canoe across the lagoon to the sand bar separating the lagoon and the
ocean, but that was not viable. We turned north, and going three or four
miles on a sand road paralleling the lagoon and turning around the end of
it, we came into the village of San Jose Empallisades. There was the
beach!!

We finally had arrived and went into the "Camarones" pavilion
restaurant. We had a couple of beers, and were befriended by two young
sisters, Mirna, aged 13 and Wendy, aged 10. They guided us around and
showed us a couple of open air thatched- roofed shelters we could camp
beneath. We elected to go upscale and rented a three bedroom beach house
from Lupe the caretaker. We negotiated the rent down to $50 for six days.
Lupe probably pocketed the rent, but that we OK, since he and his son,
Leonardo, were helpful getting the water pumped up full into the tinaca and
filling the swimming pool. We hired Mirna and Wendy to hose the house out
for $1, and we moved in. We sat out by the pool drinking rum and cocoa
water, watching the pelicans fly down to the breaking waves at dusk. Ted
went for a quick swim. We went up town after dark to the only restaurant
open for business, and met Dona Luz, the proprietor. Beer was "on sale",
three "media" 350 ml bottles for only $1.66. So we drank beer. We went
home and crawled into our Spartan bedding, only to be suddenly awakened at 2
AM by an earthquake. Lee leaped up and rushed outside. Ted did not hear
any cracking or squeaking in the structure of the house, and rolled over and
went back to sleep, not remembering the aftershock that came ten minutes
later. The next morning, we read in the newspaper that some houses in the
mountains had collapsed. The quake centered in the ocean near Tapachula and
was rated at 5.8, the aftershock at 4.6. There was tragedy associated with
the house. A well-to-do family from the capitol city owned it. Three years
ago, one evening en route to their beach house, the car was stopped, and
the husband and one child shot to death. The widow lady and the two
surviving children do not come to the house any more, but they pay Lupe a
small sum to maintain it. Some say military, some say bandits did it.

Day #8, Saturday, January 10

Ted got up early and walked down the beach road. Empallisades is a beach
town that never quite jelled. All the beach frontage was cut up into lots
and sold. But one half of the lots were still raw. There was one new house
under construction that Leonardo was laying the cement block, a couple of
homes were will cared for, but most were boarded up and abandoned like ours.
The ocean was washing away the dunes under the foundation of several houses
that had been built too close to the edge, like the patio in front of our
pool. Down the end of the houses, Ted saw how they were manufacturing salt
from evaporation ponds. Salt making was the major local industry, paying
$2.50 daily wages. A hundred pound sack of salt wholesaled for $3. Later
we all walked up to Dona Luz's for breakfast. You need to be hungry to eat
at Dona Luz's. She is a big fat, slovenly woman about forty years old, with
a ferocious scowl. Ted hit it off with her right away. Lee brought his
guitar in there and sang some songs to soften her up. She cooked everything
with lots of grease. We were lucky not to have been poisoned. That
afternoon the ocean looked inviting, so we went for a swim. The sand bottom
was irregular, and Pat being "height disadvantaged", stepped into a hole and
was swept away by a rip-tide. We had some thrills for a few minutes, but we
all worked together and got out of there. Afterwards, we sat up on the
dunes by the pool drinking rum Botran and coco milk. Leonardo came by with
Lupe and invited us over to his house Sunday for a home-cooked fish dinner.
We accepted.

Day #9, Sunday, January 11

We all went with Leonardo on the 7 AM bus to Sipicate, 33 cents. While Pat
and Lee went to buy fish, potatoes, vegetables, catsup, mayonnaise, lettuce,
onions, chile and rum Botran, Ted went and got a haircut for only 80 cents.
Ted was ecstatic at the price, but everyone else, even Leonardo, laughed at
his appearance. Lee bought a machete for $3. That evening, after drinks at
the pool, and watching the pelicans on their return commute, we walked one
block to Leonardo's house and had a simple, tasty meal. Zoila, Leonardo's
wife, made lots of cerviche and fried mackerel. We ate most of it. Lee
played the guitar and we drank beer. Ted kept saying. "it's just like the
good old days. We are meeting real people!!" Zoila agreed to do some
laundry for us if we would bring it over to her house the next day.

Day#10, Monday, January 12

Pat was feeling a bit queasy this morning, so Lee and Ted went to breakfast
at Dona Luz's without him, and afterwards caught the "fletes" up to the
north end of the beach at the fishing village of Chorros. "Fletes" are
free-lance taxi pickups that haul people up and down the beach and over to
Sipicate to supplement the bus service. The normal fee is 33 cents, but as
soon as they see a white face, the fare goes up and we need to defend
ourselves. We got the fare down to 87 cents for both of us. That was the
best we could do. We walked through the village of Chorros, observing two
men constructing a new grass house, waded across the mouth of the lagoon up
there and burned the hell out of our feet on the black sand beach. We
walked back through the village by staying at the water's edge of the lagoon
to keep our feet cool and were accosted by a peddler who tried to sell us
blankets, and another lady who had lottery tickets to win a bicycle for the
benefit of her church. Lee was prepared to buy one for 33 cents, but the
lady did not have change for an 87 cent note. She blessed us and went
away no richer and no poorer. We hung around in the shade waiting for a
Fletes returning, but finally bummed a ride with some men in a pickup who
were servicing the pumping stations along the beach that were pumping salt
water over to the salt evaporation ponds. We went into the pump houses and
saw how they had rigged up Mazda diesel truck engines with a five speed
transmission and a balanced pulley and belt drive setup to power two pumps
at once. We got back home in the early afternoon. Ted went over to the
store for soft drinks, and met the town's most eligible female, the 22
year old granddaughter of the store owner. She is a big girl, probably 150
pounds at least. But what the hell, fat girls need love also. Ted offered
to teach her some English words. Leonardo came over to our place after
work and invited us over that evening for fish chowder and to finish up all
the food we had not eaten the night before. So we went over to leonardo's
and polished off the leftovers. Pat was feeling better then. We went up to
the store after diner. Ted was sitting out in the front with the 22 year
old, teaching her words, and trying to spell the English into Spanish so she
could write them correctly in her notebook. Pat and Lee were hanging out. A
local fellow, good and drunk, came weaving up to the store, carrying an open
machete. We all sort of slid back. He went to the window and naturally
tried to buy some more booze. He had only 50 cents and the cheapest bottle
cost $1. Some discussion ensued, but no credit was offered. The man sort of
collapsed to the ground, and told Lee he was drunk because his woman had
"betrayed him". Lee talked quietly to him. The store owner smoothly slid
the machete away from our new friend and put it under the counter. We all
resumed breathing normally. Lee explained the drunk really should not feel
so bad, because there were many other women out there who would be pleased
to make him happy. The drunk brightened and decided he had been "saved" by
Lee and wanted to follow him wherever he might go. We got up and walked
away into the darkness. Our new friend was not able to get on his feet to
follow us. Ted had made a date with the granddaughter to take her on a
motorcycle ride up to Chorus the following afternoon. We went home. Later
we heard the store did give the drunk 50 cents credit on a bottle of booze.
We never saw him again.

Day 11, Tuesday, January 13

This morning at Dona Luz's for breakfast we met a Peruvian guy, who lived in
L.A. Actually his family had emigrated to L.A. when he was very young. A
credible story because he had that bright smart-assed L.A. style and spoke
perfect American English. He had some story about how the customs at the
border wanted $800 to allow his car into Guatemala. He had talked them down
to $300, but left the car up there at the border regardless. His buddy, a
Guatemalan, showed us a .380 automatic he was packing. They told us another
story as to having seen a man at 10 PM the previous night upon the La Gomera
road, lying on one of the bridges, with five bullet holes in him.
Additionally, he explained how gasoline in Mexico was for sale at varying
prices, depending on where you were. We knew better than that. Pemex sells
standard fuel for exactly $3.41 pesos per liter everywhere. Something was
phony about this guy. Lee speculated that he had been deported from the
United States. We hung around the house that day. We worked on the bikes,
trying to fix whatever was broken. Ted went over to Zoila's to get some
clean clothes for his big date. When he went to the store with his bike, he
was told the twenty-two year old had some ironing to do and couldn't go.
We'll see if she gets any more words from Ted that way. Later in the day, a
jeep station wagon with four Israeli guys came into town. They had bought
the jeep in Mexico for $2500, and were on their way south to check out all
the good surfing beaches in Central America. They showed us a map they had
obtained from the Internet with all the sites ear-marked. A very
interesting piece of research. These guys had tents and camped up there
next to Dona Luz's. They could camp and yet keep their valuable stuff
locked in the station wagon. Not a bad way to go. Three days before, a bus
load of Indians came down from the mountains and they camped up there in the
same spot. Each family made their own cooking fire in the morning and ate
separately.

Day 12, Wednesday, January 14

Today Pat, Lee and Ted went together to Sipicate for breakfast, and to take
a boat ride in the Sipicate lagoon. They do fishing and manufacturing salt
there. Also there is a National Reserve of Marine Turtles, and some
mangrove swamps at the far end. So we rented an outboard canoe and cruised
the lagoon for almost two hours. We saw lots of birds, and a few turtles,
lots of smelly water and mangroves, and a couple of fishing villages until our
backsides got too sore to go any further. We came back to town and did some
comparison shopping to purchase a radio for Zoila, Leonardo's wife. We
bought a mid-line radio for about $20 to give her as a going away gift. She
seemed a very self-composed lady, keeping house under somewhat primitive
circumstances and managing five children without disorder. We could see
that she was touched by our gift. Lee took photos of the family, and some
video of this event. Leonardo gave Lee a letter he wanted delivered to some
family up in the mountains, and Lupe had a message for one of the beach
house owners, who had not paid him for taking care of the property.

Day # 13, Thursday, January 15

We hated to leave Empallisades because the local people we had met and dealt
with were so genuine. On Wednesday we had gone around saying goodbye to
Mirna and Wendy, and Dona Luz, and turned in all of our soft drink bottles. We
actually got the cash deposit back. I mention this because getting the
deposit back is tricky. The store owner looks at you suspiciously, examines
the bottles very carefully for defects, makes sure that particular brand of
soft drink is in fact sold by his store, and then with great reluctance, he
digs around in his pockets and passes the money out of the window. One of
the unusual things we noticed in Sipicate and Empallisades area was that the
coke truck, and the beer truck, and cigarette delivery truck all carried a
guard armed with a sawed-off shotgun. One can accept the idea of armed
military personnel standing outside the banks, and private guards within the
banks. But on delivery trucks?

So at 7 AM, we motored cautiously out of
town on the sand road to Sipicate, and then back up the forty miles of
terrible road to the pavement just below La Democracia. The sand road was
particularly difficult for Pat. His legs are short, and even with a custom
Corbin seat he can lust barely touch the ground. But he made it without
mishap, and before noon we were back on Highway #2 heading to Guatemala
City. Lee had a letter and some money to deliver to his extended family who
lived in the western outskirts of the Capitol. We zig-zagged around trying
to find the house. Their system of numbering properties is not particularly
organized. But finally Lee located the house. The occupants were not home,
but fortunately the neighbor was also part of the family. So Lee was able
to leave his stuff there. The traffic in Guatemala City was fairly heavy on
the main thoroughfares, but hardly anything on the side streets. It seems
clear the average person in Guatemala cannot afford to own a car. The
economic situation there is more difficult than in Mexico. Lee took us to
the Minerva Park, where the Government had commissioned, in 1910, a painted
paper mache' model of the entire country in scale to emphasize the
differences in elevation between the Pacific lowlands, the mountain area and
the Peten Jungle. It really dramatized the different climatic zones. The
Peten Jungle appears more than one half the land area of the country. We
proceeded up and out of the Capitol and over into Antigua, the former
colonial capitol.

Antigua is a quaint city with cobblestone streets, and
lots of curio peddlers in the main plaza area. Lee succumbed to one's pleas
and purchased a flute and a shirt. Tourism is big in Antigua, with many
Europeans staying there for several weeks studying conversational Spanish at
several "Institutes" that offer that program. We secured accommodations at
a Posada, and went back to the square. Pat and Ted sat in the square while
Lee made a phone call. Later we wandered down to the marketplace and had
dinner at the "Super-Schnitzel". Pat and Ted had the schnitzel for $4, and
it was really as good as advertised. Lee tried something else and ate his
heart out watching us. Then home to bed. But at 2 AM we were awakened by a
drunk returning home and howling in the stairwell. Lee got up and went out
to ask him to shut up without success. Ted charged out in his stocking feet
and grabbed the guy by the throat with one hand and when the drunk jumped
backwards, Ted promptly slipped on the tile floor and fell on his ass. The
drunk was prancing around on the stair landing in a karate pose. Ted was
rolling around on the tile floor, in a tangle of legs, trying to get his
socks off, and get back up and grab the guy again. Lee was hoping to cool
everyone off. After a bit, the drunk went upstairs and we went back to bed
and to sleep. He was an Australian we found out the next morning.

Day #14, Friday, January 16

We went back to the "Super-Schnitzel" and Pat and Ted had a tasty legitimate
breakfast. Lee had to have the schnitzel, and the waitress got it for him
at the promotional price. So we tipped her for this act of compassion.
Then out of town and round about to the Solola Indian Market---a big traffic
jam. We parked the bikes near the telephone office. The Indian Market
takes place one or two days each week, and it really brings everyone down
out of the hills to buy or sell. Junk stuff the Indians need for their
meager life. Foodstuffs, and native handicrafts. You can really see many
interesting fabrics, blouses, hats, capes, and God knows what all. We did
not hang out long, because we hired an Indian couple to guard our bikes by
telling them we would return within the hour. We returned to the bikes, the
couple was still sitting there, and we gave them 5 quetzales, about 87
cents. You will note that we are careful not to spoil the "natives". We
then went sharply downhill to Lake Atitlan, a very beautiful lake about one
half the size of Lake Tahoe, but with two stunning volcanic cones at one end
of the Lake. We went to the tourist town of Panajachel and really scored on
accommodations. One block off the main street we found a rooming house set
back from the street at the end of an alleyway. $5 bought us a double room
with bath down the hall. It had a courtyard secured by iron gates in series
away from the street. Perfect security for the bikes. If I were to do this
trip again, I believe I would stay another day here. It was a tourist town
with lots of shops, many little bistros and restaurants. It would have
been a nice break.

Day #15, Saturday January 17

We left Panajachel (sob!!) and headed out to Huehuetenango to see the
Zaculeu Ruins. These are not Mayan ruins, but something similar on a much
smaller scale, that took place hundreds of years later. It was interesting
to me, but bush league after seeing Tical in the Peten Jungle on two prior
trips. Going toward Huehuetenango we passed over some beautiful mountain
and valley countryside populated by Indians. They are a very poor and
humble people. They farm small plots of land up in the mountains between
five and ten thousand feet in elevation. They raise mostly corn, but some
truck crops as well. We saw potatoes, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower,
watermelons, etc. The Indians do not own pickups or any beasts of burden.
You will see them by the roadside washing their truck produce, or tottering
down the roadside in bare feet carrying bundles of stuff larger and heavier
than they are. The Indian breeding rate is very high. Generally when you
see a young Indian woman, she is holding a couple of toddlers by the hand,
has a sleeping infant slung on her back and another prospective baby under
her belt. Fifteen years ago when I first went to Guatemala, the national
population was six million. Today it is ten million. The Indians now total
60% of the population. At this rate, they will over populate their mountain
homeland and cause some sort of ecological disaster. They cannot keep
clearing land off the mountain hillsides, going higher and higher with each
generation, without causing damage. Trees are under attack from another
quarter as well. The poor cook with wood. So woodcutters are out everyday
scrounging for wood to heat up the supper soup.

Guatemala is a very beautiful and interesting country. It is very different from Mexico, which
is primarily desert and high semi-arid plateau. There is beauty in Mexico,
but it is a harsh beauty, with more thorn than flower. Guatemala on the
other hand, is lush, fertile, and beautiful at every turn. If you want to
see it as it is today, go and see it now, before it is tipped onto its side.
The roads in this mountain area are quite good. The Federal Government is
spending lots of money to improve them. We would ride across a valley,
typically 5000 feet of elevation, and then work our way up and out of there
through curves to a 10,000 foot pass, and then down the other side into the
next valley. The only difficulty is that many of the local drivers are
insane. They pass on hills, blind curves, crests of hills, etc. I call
them "Vehicular Kamikazes". Better to back off and let them pass. In some
spots the roads are torn up and under construction, and very little thought
is given to providing a safe roadway for the daily traffic. One spot we all
remember. They had cut most of the roadway down 12", and had a road grader
in there spreading soft, new material around. There was one lane left,
barely wide enough for a car, and no lane control . I just went into it
downhill, and hoped not to meet anything coming uphill. If so, I suppose I
would have just scrubbed off all the speed possible and jumped off into the
soft stuff. No Guatemalan would have ceded the right of way. Fortunately
we all made it down and out of that one mile stretch. This day our
destination was to be Quetzeltenango, the second largest city in Guatemala.
We went down to the main square, and checked the nearby hotels. One was at
$60, one at $40, and then Ted found one at $22, plus tax, where we were
permitted to park the bikes in the entryway, but behind a steel roll up door
that came shut at 10 PM. So we took it, although it was way over budget.
We had dinner at a nice restaurant, one block away from the plaza, with a
floor show. One of the bar customers got into an argument with the owner.
She, and the bartender, picked up chairs and hit the customer over the head,
chasing him out. As the disgruntled customer fled, he slammed the front door
so hard that is broke glass all over the floor. Now you do not get to see
this sort of floor show everyday do you? After supper Ted went to the lady
owner and gave her ten quetzales as a contribution toward new glass. She
thanked Ted.

Day #16, Sunday, January 18

We went roaming around in the downtown area early Sunday seeking an open
restaurant, and also the telephone office where Lee and Ted could call home.
We chanced upon a hotel where the double room would have cost us $13.50.
Pat and Lee chastised Ted for this oversight. We could not find an open
telephone office, so we gave that up and left town heading up to San Marcos.
This is a smaller town where Lee's wife was born and raised. We arrived
early in the afternoon. Lee found us an OK hotel, small rooms but with a
private bath and hot water for $11.50 for a double. Ted was temporarily
fired as motel-hotel coordinator. We stayed in San Marcos two nights,
Sunday and Monday. The first day in the afternoon, we went out and looked
at the two acre piece of land Olivia's Dad had owned and left to the six
heirs. He died in 1980. We went and looked at his grave site. We also
visited Olivia's cousin and her family that live next door to the family
land. They announced that they were Pentacostals, and were right then
erecting a very simple church building. The following day, Monday, we went
to visit Raquel, the tenant who was occupying the family plot. Then we all
went up to the pass in the mountains where Lee had bought a five acre piece
twenty-six years ago and started to build a house. Now, he may or may not
have some claim to ownership. Someone was raising cauliflower in two small
plots. This land is at 8,000 feet in elevation, and the clouds came in and
obscured our view. The site is surely what an American realtor would
describe as "View Property". Later we took the motorcycles up above the
cultivated fields to visit Olivia's half brothers and sisters. Don
Perfecto, Olivia's Dad, had perfected a second family of five children.
This clan lived like hillbillies at the edge of the forest land and seemed
to make a living manufacturing a moonshine liquor called "cuscha". We were
offered some, and tried it. It tastes like vodka. Lee and Ted went to the
local Gua-tel office in San Marcos and were able to call home.

Day # 18, Tuesday. January 20

We loaded up in the hotel courtyard, and headed up and out of town. Lee
stopped and said goodbye to Raquel, the tenant, and the cousins next door,
and we then rode up to the hillside parcel, where Lee climbed up and took
some video shots without clouds. We rode over the saddle and steeply down
the other side toward the border. Once more we had to check out of
Guatemala. Only two agencies this time, but the same old hassle. Getting
back into Mexico was easy. Our papers were in order. They just needed to
stamp our passports. Then north along the same one - half autopista one -
half "libre" road we came down two weeks before. This time we paid no toll.
We stayed at Salina Cruz in a roadside motel as we entered town, with a
swimming pool and air conditioning for only $15. We caught the local bus
and went up the highway to a local eatery, where each and every component of
a meal was on the menu as an a la carte item. We could not get management
to give us a price for a set meal. Frustrated, we stamped out and went next
door and had a hamburger. We walked home afterwards because we needed to
cool off. We were mad about the dinner.

Day #19, Wednesday, January 21

The Pacific Coast road, Highway #200, leaves Salina Cruz by the back door.
It almost seems like it is a city road going to the dump. It is a tough
road all the way to Huatalco, approximately one hundred miles distant. The
patches have been patched. In some places a one inch overlay was applied
and then worn away here and there. It was the roughest major highway we saw
in Mexico, probably because Oaxaca is a remote and poor state. It is said
that never has there been a President that has come from Oaxaca. The only
good note was, that without really trying, Ted's 1100 GS just fiat pulled
away from Lee and Pat. The new front end on the 1100 really works well on
rough pavement. The bike is too heavy for rough gravel roads, but it shines
on bad pavement. It just swallows up the rough, but Ted needed new fork
seals after this.

We stopped for breakfast in Puerto Angel, a pretty little
bay, that has acquired a modest tourist development in the past five years,
perhaps as a consequence of its proximity to Huatalco. There were ample
signs of damage done by Hurricane Pauline in blown down trees, etc. North of
Puerto Escondido, Lee did not see a speed bump until the last instant. He
grabbed too much brake and locked up the front wheel. Lee went down,
breaking off the right mirror, damaging the right fairing panel and scuffing
up his forearm. Had he worn his leather jacket, he would not have hurt
himself. We took him to the next Pemex station and washed off the arm.
Then in Tututepec he went to a modern public clinic, where two giggling
nurses professionally cleaned and bandaged him. Pat gave Lee some pills to
ward off pain, and Ted bought some anti- bacterial "bear-grease" in a local
Farmacia, and onward we went. The medical treatment was free, as is all
emergency care in Mexico. It is part of their Social Welfare setup. We
should remember that in the USA as we consider denial of emergency care to
aliens in our country.

The "fright of the trip" occurred at Pinotepec Nacional. The bridge was out, so the detour took us down a steep embankment info a canyon. They had built a temporary bridge across the creek using a dozen pieces of six inch steel pipe laid parallel to the direction of travel, no problem with a car. Two sets of tires wide enough to straddle several of the pipes. But on a motorcycle, the front and rear tires just go in a single groove, and stay there. If you get "crossed up" the bike would tip over and down you would go, off the bridge and into the creek. Ted and Lee made it, but Pat had a tense moment because his feet-lust barely touch the ground. He could not "paddle" across as Lee and Ted did. Lee went back and helped him across the last bit. We continued up the road to a nameless town, just sixty miles south of Acapulco. We staved at a brand new motel, with air conditioning and hot water for $15. Many of the bridges were out in this last two hundred miles. They were in the process of repair, but we had a dozen different detours during the day. Coming north from Guatemala, we really did not work hard to cover a lot of ground. We left Guatemala two days in advance of our minimum schedule, so we just poked along at three hundred miles a day.

Day #20, Thursday, January 22

We had a nice ride on good roads to Acapulco. We had breakfast at the
roadside intersection on the south side of town, then took the downtown
route to see the sights. Pat and Lee went to the bank to buy some more
pesos. Then onward to Zihuatanejo, where we stopped and walked around
looking at the wharf and the beach. We then pushed north to reach Playa
Azul and Ted's favorite Mexican hotel. It has an old fashioned air about
it. It has a covered porch all the way around, interior courtyard with a
pool and a bar and restaurant. $19 was a bit pricey for us, but it is a
classic, charming Mexican resort. Gringos do not come here. From the look
of things, Playa Azul has fallen onto bad times, perhaps eclipsed by the
newer facilities on the Pacific Coast to the north and the south. We walked
uptown. Pat wanted a Mexican combo plate, so we negotiated one lady down to
$3 a plate for a six item dinner. We hung around the street scene...bought
an egg milkshake from one of the street cart vendors. Strictly locals were
there.

Day 21, Friday, January 23

This newest section of the coastal highway was punched through the rugged
terrain fifteen years ago. It is rather like Highway # 1 in California. We
had breakfast at Caleta de Campos and met two American girls who were there
at the behest of the Mexican Government, trying to save the beach breeding
grounds of the marine leather back turtles. At night, they would go out in
Honda quad-cycles and race up and down the beach scooping up the fresh laid
turtle eggs before the dogs. birds and local inhabitants ate the eggs. They
had set up a hatchery. The whole operation was guarded by eight Mexican
Marines, two of whom were with the girls as we spoke to them. Tough duty for
the Marines. Gasoline stops are almost two hundred miles apart on this
stretch of road. Please note the distances on the USA AAA map are wrong.

We got to La Placita and the brand new gas station was out of fuel.
Fortunately for Ted, one of the little tourist assistance green trucks was
having lunch in the town plaza. Ted bummed two liters of fuel to reach the
next Pemex. We continued onward, bypassing Manzanillo and getting roped
into a stretch of toll highway that was unexpected. We stopped at Barra de
Navidad for a "famous historical moment". Ted showed Lee and Pat the very
spot, where forty-eight years ago, a drunk fisherman asked Ted, "Why should
a man with money be working". Later, the same afternoon at Chamela Bay in
the town of La Fortuna, Ted showed Pat and Lee the exact spot where Gordo
explained why his Dad did not repair the hole in their roof. "It very
seldom rains here", another famous historical moment. We fell short that
day on distance with our visiting of all these historical moments, and could
not reach Puerto Vallarta. We turned off the main highway and stayed
overnight in a small agricultural town named Tecoman. The better hotel
charged us $11.25 for a double, and permitted us to park the bikes in the
owner's locked driveway. We went uptown to a recommended restaurant for
carne asada. Lee was impressed by the waitress. She was tall, slender and
quite pretty. Lee asked her her name and age. She answered courteously, and
afterwards the proprietor waited on us personally. I assume the waitress
was his daughter, and he did not wish some Gringo hitting up the apple of
his eye.

Day #22, Saturday, January 22

We stopped for breakfast at El Tuito, just short of Vallarta. We must have
been at some altitude because there were pine trees around the town, and
Pat's thermometer said fifty- five degrees. The waitress seemed frozen as
well. No $1.50 Mexican eggs here. It cost $2.25. Just being close to
gringo tourists runs up the price of food and lodging. We went through
Puerto Vallarta using the tunnel bypass to avoid the downtown with its
cobblestone streets. Lee was having trouble with his fairing. It needed
repair. We went up past Las Penitas to Las Varas, where Ted pointed out the
turnoff to Chacala. Another famous historical moment when Ted's friend from
San Blas told his story about the lost hunter and how "when there is hunger,
there is no bad bread". We took the short cut across the lowlands from
Varas to San Blas, stopping in Playa Miramar for fresh, raw oysters and a
lobster plate. We arrived in San Blas in the early afternoon and secured
rooms at the Bucanero. It is $19 now, quite a bit for that old dump. But
Ted has always stayed there. Tony, the owner lets him keep the bike inside
the shaded patio. It is a great place to work on the bikes. Lee started
dismantling his fairing, using some of Pat's tools. We were often amazed at
the assortment of stuff Pat had in his saddle bags. Among other things, he
has an umbrella, fly swatter, a complete set of sockets, and a 12' by 12'
tarp and damn near anything else you might require on the road. Pat was
really well equipped, and we shamelessly sponged on him all we could. Lee got
the faring apart at sundown and went out with Ted to find a welder to weld
up his bracket. Pat had been to San Blas once before with Ted, Ray
Hutchins, and Bill Jinnett. So he went out alone and wandered around. Ted
went out and visited Nacho, and found Jesse at Pollo's bar. Jesse had not
seen Ted for twenty years, but he remembered those camping trips we took
down to Chacala and out to the Isabelle Islands years ago. Pat, Lee and Ted
hung out at the plaza that evening, as is the norm in San Bias. Pat said he
had forgotten the sound of the church bells, and all the birds that lived in
the trees at the plaza. We went to bed early, but could not sleep soundly
because the Bucanero Disco Bar went full tilt until 3 AM. Local kids,
mostly. San Bias always was a lively town.

Day #23. Sunday. January 25

Ted was able to get a phone call through to home and speak to his wife. She
never did like San Bias and was not particularly impressed to hear we were
there. Lee worked on reassembling his RT fairing. Ted bought a light bulb
for his directional signal and tightened the muffler bracket and added lock
washers and a double nut. We all went to a bar late in the afternoon and
saw the Super Bowl on TV. Ted had met his old buddy Setenta in the morning
and heard about the new job as caretaker-cook-errand boy for a wealthy
Mexican car dealer, who had a vacation house in San Bias. Setenta had to
cater to them until they wrapped up things in the late afternoon and went
back home to Tepic. So after these people left, Setenta came to our hotel
and we all went out to dinner together at McDonald's. (not the same as our
McDonald's) Then to bed early, but again no sound sleep because the
disco-bar had a private party at the pool until 12 AM. Ted and Setenta made
plans to get together Easter week when Ted and family are planning a one
week vacation in Mazatlan.

Day #24. Monday. January 26

We left San Blas around 7:30, taking the lowland route north toward
Mazatlan. We stopped at the Tuxpan crossroads for breakfast, $2.25 for
Mexican eggs. The Pemex station there is abandoned, because Pemex is
modernizing all these gas stations. The new stations are much larger in
size, providing easy access, the pumps are all computerized, and they have
larger, cleaner rest rooms, and a decent office area that sells small
packaged food items. It was rather similar to American gas stations. This
remodel job was about 90% complete all over Mexico. Amazing!!

We arrived in Mazatlan right at 12 PM and went directly to the ferry terminal and
purchased tickets for the crossing to La Paz that afternoon at 3 PM. The
fare was approximately $35 a head for us in a four bunk turista' cabin, and
$55 for each bike. The fares are considerably higher now that the ferries
are operated by private enterprise. Consequently, the patronage by poorer
Mexicans is way down. They always have sufficient vehicles to fill the
boats, however, big freight trucks and tourist RVs and house trailers
mostly. We were told to return and line up for vehicle boarding at 1:30, so
Ted jumped on his bike and rushed out to the Costa de Oro Hotel to confirm
his room reservations for Easter Week, and swing by Climas Confortables and
touch base with Ricardo and Mario to make diving plans for that two week
vacation. He got back just in time. We watched them scientifically load
the vehicles so as to balance the weight. They missed and the ship leaned
about five degrees to port. Dinner in the cafeteria was OK, and fairly
priced at $2.50. There were three East German girls aboard, back-packing
around. Lee made a hit with the big fat one, chattering away in Deutsche,
but we could not make an impression with the two pretty ones. Ah well, to
bed for a good nite's sleep, because it was flat calm that crossing. One
must supply his own tie down straps for the bikes in the hold. Usually four
are sufficient to secure the bike to wall braces and nearby motor homes.
You have to get down there early to unhook upon arrival in La Paz before a
dumb tourist will fire up and drag the bike out for you.

Day #25, Tuesday, January 27

The Ferry docked at La Paz shortly after 9 AM. We had the normal fake
Customs and drug inspection getting off. First they checked us afoot in the
Ferry Terminal, afterwards they did the drill again on the dock with a dog,
a friendly female black lab. The poor dog sniffed the exhaust header on
Pat's bike and burned her nose. We kept a completely straight face and
avoided going to jail. It was 10 AM when we got downtown and each bought
$200 US in pesos at $8.11 each. We gassed up at the Pemex, leaving La Paz.
and headed out of town to Loreto some two hundred twenty miles away. Pat
knew a hotel there right downtown he and Ricky Klain had stayed in two years
ago on New Year's Eve. We arrived there about mid-afternoon. As soon as I
walked in I knew this was going to be difficult. Tile, chandeliers, wood
paneling, clean and new. The room rates were published on a board behind
the desk.--$62 US for a double. The lady owner greeted me in English,
another bad omen. I responded in Spanish that we had been staying down
south for three weeks and had actually been paying 60 pesos, not dollars,
for rooms. I feared I might have a nose bleed caused by the high altitude
of her prices, and perhaps even keel over right there in her lobby with a
fatal heart attack. She smiled and did say she had one room without TV that
she could rent for less. So I suggested that we go upstairs and look at it.
One of my tactics is to get the desk clerk out from behind the desk.
Standing back there, the clerk feels empowered, and just point to the price
list. Up in the room, I have more options to work. No TV, but I pointed
out the big hole in the wall with no A/C. The lady sat on the bed to
demonstrate the newness of the bed. I admitted that it was lovely, but---she
said she could let us have the room for $30. We accepted. We also got Pat
his solo room for $15. We were happy about this deal until Pat recollected
he and Ricky stayed there New Year's Eve for $10 a head. But I know Ricky,
he would be happy to pay twice the published rate if they would let him.

The afternoon was spent wandering around downtown and looking at the
Mission, the oldest in Baja, and general sightseeing. We went shopping at
the local super market, buying some chips and a bargain bottle of mescal,
which worked out fine. The mescal tasted so lousy, it lasted three days.
We could not find the proper mix to disguise the taste. We had our little
party up in the room. All during the trip, Pat would be riding in #2 or #3
position. He had lots of time to observe Lee or Ted ahead of him. Pat,
albeit is half our size, and is not the least bit shy about telling someone
where to head in. He would take one of us on by saying, "you are not paying
attention" and then the specific dumb move or oversight we were guilty of. I
honestly believe Pat's play by play rendering of our sins at the gas stops,
or at our evening cocktail hour made better riders of us, and perhaps kept
us alive down there. Thanks to Pat, we got better and safer because neither
of us wanted the daily ass chewing. For dinner we had a $5.50 combination
Mexican plate. No more cheap$3.00 meals in the evening.

Day #26, Wednesday. January 28

We had a nice ride on good roads up to Mulege for breakfast past the various
beaches along the Gulf and Bahia Conception, which now appear to be
completely paved with RV and house trailer set-ups. We went downtown to a
touristy restaurant and sat under the lanai covered with a lot of
vegetation. A pet parrot climbed above Ted's head and kept trimming leaves
and small pieces of bark bombing Ted. So Ted moved to the other side of the
table. The parrot moved. We picked up the table and moved it six feet.
The parrot moved once more to position his ass right over Ted's head. Pat
and Lee kept snickering, awaiting the disaster forthcoming. Finally Ted had
to get the waiter to come and relocate the parrot with much squawking and
feathers flapping. What is Ted's fatal charm? Maybe it was a female
parrot? We stopped in San Ignacio and visited the shaded park. They have
one of the largest banyan trees I have ever seen. Also the mission is more
authentic than Loreto, which has been rebuilt to twentieth century
standards.

San Ignacio is Ted's favorite town in Baja. A desert oasis. Onward to
Guererro Negro where one goes to look at whales. We checked out four
motels, and none would budge on the posted price. We went back to the first
one and paid $24 for a double. The best Ted could do was to wheedle three
free beers in the motel dining room for dinner. We noticed Ted's fancy
after market muffler had broken at the collar of the resonator. Lee knew a
shop down the street that had done welding for him years ago. We went down
there and had the owner try to weld stainless with a torch. Lousy job, but
it held together until he reached home.

Day #27, Thursday, January 29

We left with the first rays of light after gassing up downtown. The next
potential gas station is Catavina, one hundred seventy miles away. We knew
from previous experience, Catavina is frequently without fuel. So we rode
moderately up there, and sure enough, no gas at the pumps. It is sixty
miles to Rosario. too far to chance. But luckily, private enterprise was at
work. They sell gas out of fifty gallon drums in a parked pickup for $5
pesos a liter. We each bought two liters and went onward. Lee wanted to
see the defunct San Fernando Mission. Ted took him down a dirt side road,
while Pat wisely stayed behind. Ted buried his 1100 GS in a dry wash, and
he and Lee really had to work to get the monster out of there. There is
another access road in from the north that is better. Maybe Lee will take
that one the next time he is down there. We did find gas at El Rosario, and
kept going north through the populated irrigated farmland they have
developed. South of Ensenada, at the low pass entering the Santo Tomas
Valley it began to drizzle. Then it stopped, although the road was wet and the clouds dark and threatening. We made it to the southern edge of
Ensenada where it started to rain good and hard. We gassed up under the
canopy of one of those new Pemex stations, and discussed what to do next.
It was decided to stay here, in the downtown, convenient to restaurants etc.
We mounted up and rode downtown getting soaking wet. Pat stayed at the Best
Western because he wanted under the roof parking. Lee and Ted went over to
the Bahia, where they were allowed to park the bikes in the lobby, which
they called "heated storage". There was a $27 special rate at the Bahia
because they had a promotional rate for visiting businessmen. Lee
fraudulently claimed we were used car buyers and we were coming to town to
buy used cars. The desk clerk smiled and went for it. This rain in
Ensenada was the very first rain we had encountered in four weeks. We
honestly had perfect weather all the way to Guatemala and return. We had
dinner that night in Pat's hotel dining room first class. We have to do
that once in a while to see how the other half lives. It was still raining
heavily.

Day #28. Friday. January 30

Pat and Lee suggested we cross the border at Tecate rather than Tijuana,
because it would be less crowded. Fortunately. it was not raining, just a
bright, clear Spring day. We left town along the waterfront, past the
shipyards, and up into the hills. The road was good, and everything was
painted a lovely, fresh green. Pretty countryside with a few small villages,
mostly grapes or grazing land. We arrived in Tecate and went through the
border unchallenged. We changed our surplus pesos beck into green and
waited while Lee went back to the Immigration Office to get his passport
stamped and some sort of reentry permit. Lee is traveling with a German
passport. I figured up the money and I had spent, $1392 in pesos and
quetzales in twenty-six days. approximately $50 a day. I do not know where
all the money went. We certainly kept the pressure on to stay in cheap
accommodations, and eat budget meals. Gasoline was almost $300, the Ferry
was $90, bridge and highway tolls somewhere between $45 and $50. If I made
allowance for the night in Deming, the five hundred fifteen miles to Del
Rio, and the five hundred miles forthcoming to get home to Lodi, I think I
would have used $1500 plus or minus... that was the low end of the budget.
We had perfect weather, no one got sick, and no serious problems with the
bikes, and we are still friends and talking to each other. The trip was
successful.

SUMMARY OF OUR OWN EXPERIENCES AND 'AWARDS'

Fuel availability and cost is predictable everywhere in Mexico. The
national oil company, PEMEX, sells a regular non-leaded fuel "Magna Sin" for
$3.41 pesos a liter. If the peso is eight pesos to the dollar, this fuel
costs $1.60 per gallon. The old standby leaded "Nova" is seldom available
these days. There is a new "Premium" that was available in ten percent of
the stations. All the new stations with the digital pumps etc. are set up
to sell "Premium" fuel. It just is not delivered to the tanks yet. The
alleged octane rating of the Magna is eighty-seven octane, but don't you believe it. The 1100 engine in the GS will not run happily on their eighty seven octane stuff. The engine pings under load. You either accelerate cautiously, or drop a gear, or blend additive into the fuel. In Guatemala, the international oil companies, Shell, Texaco and Chevron, are providing the fuel; a regular no lead, and a premium higher
octane for ten cents extra. Very similar to US standards. The cost, if the
quetzale is at 6 per $1 US, is $1.90. This price in Guatemala varies
slightly from place to place.

Accommodation and Food. There seem to be three separate price tiers in
Mexico. Along the border, and in all of Baja California, the pricing is
similar to San Joaquin Valley pricing. In Northern and Central Mexico the
costs are significantly less, possibly one half of what we pay here at home.
In the South of Mexico, below a line you might draw from Acapulco to Mexico
City and Vera Cruz, things are remarkably cheap. Perhaps they are one
quarter of the San Joaquin Valley prices, the quality not quite equal, but
passable. In Guatemala, the food and accommodation costs were much the same
as Southern Mexico. The cost of manufactured items, booze, soft drinks,
gasoline, beer, etc., seemed slightly higher. Guatemala has a national
value add tax of 17%. That may account for the extra cost of some items.

Awards. If we kept score, we would give Pat Holland and his GS 1000 first
place. Pat never dropped his bike, never fell off, although he came close
several times. His bike consistently got better mileage and there were no
repairs. Ohlin shocks swallowed up the imperfections of the roads, and his
"Jessie" saddle bags fit low and in tight, giving a lower center of gravity.
The "Jessie" bags hold more stuff. Pat was just better prepared than either
of us. Also Pat's constructive criticisms of Ted's and Lee's riding
maneuvers kept us sharper and saner. Neither of us wanted Pat to rake us
over the coals for stupid moves. Ted should get some sort of a prize for
the "most contortions" getting off his bike. The side stand is a tad short
and the R1100GS wants to tip over, particularly with considerable weight in
the saddle bags and rear rack. Ted crawled off, hanging onto the handle
bar, and then circled around the front by hanging onto the windshield until
he could get on the right side and set the center stand down. Ted did a
good job of chiseling down the cost of lodging and food. He only got
confused and headed down the wrong road four times. Mexico City, Tehuacan,
Zihuatanejo and La Mira. Lee is entitled to "honorable mention". He always
was in good humor, making jokes, smiling and overlooking the difficulties we
had. With the locals, Lee would unwrap his guitar and sing songs to help
make friends. His Spanish is a passable conversational Spanish, which is a
big asset as well. He fell off and banged up the right arm and knee, but
never complained. He healed up fast with no infection, so that was a
blessing. Each of us contributed to the benefit of the common good. I
believe we made an effective team.

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