Kitabı oku: «From the city of angels to the land of fire. Danny Beer, gringo on tour»
© Danny Beer, 2020
ISBN 978-5-0051-4068-5
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Welcome to America.: Onwards to la la land
Wednesday August 1, 2007
Welcome to America. This isn’t so much a beginning as a continuation of sorts. After five and a half months of cycling around Europe it is time to head to the Americas. You sit awaiting your final flight to LA. From there you’ll head south. That is about all the planning you’ve done. A guidebook sits somewhere in your luggage. No visas are planned. No research. No idea. Just take it as it comes.
First impressions of America are interesting. A round of applause is given when the pilot touches down on the runway. You’ve never seen that before. Security has been quite high all day. If Vienna was bad enough, New York is even worse. The initial immigration guy was very laid back but apart from him it is all very strict. Especially for domestic flights for some reason.
The bike is a bit of a hassle getting about. After trampling all over JFK the box is looking a little worse for wear. But after today you won’t have to worry about it anymore.
Have fun in LA whatever you work out.
From laxatives south.: Riding SoCal
Thursday August 2, 2007, 191 km (119 miles) – Total so far: 191 km (119 miles)
Welcome to Laxatives airport. You pull the bike out of the box. A close inspection of the front tire reveals the axle is missing. You find the axle but the nut on the end is gone. It is not to be found. You put the bike together regardless. It goes alright just so long as you don’t lift up the front. The front panniers cannot be attached so everything must go on the back.
You head south out of the airport but are presented with a freeway and a big sign saying pedestrians and cyclists prohibited. You go back. You try to figure out the buses but to no avail. Eventually you make your way out northwards. But shouldn’t you be heading south?
You skirt the airport perimeter. North, then east, then southwards. And wait. It’s the sea. Already? You ride the bike, timidly at first and then with greater confidence, getting to speeds inexcess of thirty km. Are you north or south of LA though? Well, you’ll soon find out.
Pancakes at four AM releves that hole in your stomach. You get going again. There are a few people out and about. A couple joggers and other cyclists out doing their thing. Soon it is light. Not long after eight, in Long beach, you find a bike shop and get a new front axle.
It is good cycling in SoCal (southern California). Cycle paths are often available making traffic an infrequent burden. You pass through an army base and have to show your ID. It gets late and the sun cools. Time to find a campsite. You find one. An expensive one. But it is booked out. You are directed seven miles further south to another campsite. When you get there a sign says ‘no vacancy’. You ask anyway and success. Hikers and campers can stay and for a considerably less amount of money. Three dollars.
To imperial beach.: But where can you camp???
Friday August 3, 2007, 91 km (57 miles) – Total so far: 282 km (175 miles)
Time to leave camp. Last night you met up with a guy, Dallas, who then proceeded to bum money off you whenever he could. A few beers last night, a burger this morning. He was quite eager to take your bag off your hands when you mentioned throwing it away. He should be buying you beers and the burger!
You did sleep well. And well you should after having being awake for three days. You trudge on south on what is first the Pacific Coast Highway and then some other major road heading south-eastwards. You veer back west and find a river blocking your path. The problem is not with finding a bridge but finding a bridge to cycle over. You find a bridge and get on the foot path section rather than the road.
You rim the outskirts of San Diego. You ask another cyclist “Is this the way to Mexico?” and are redirected back towards the harbour to catch a ferry to the island, which is actually a peninsula. There is a campsite on this island but when you get there they only accept ‘self contained vehicles’. So you keep moving.
You ask someone else and are given a couple ‘hot tips’ on where to camp illegally. Apparently the rangers, but not the power kind, and the police often raid these camps so it is important to pack up and go come dawn.
Welcome to Mexico.: And back into America again
Saturday August 4, 2007, 99 km (62 miles) – Total so far: 381 km (237 miles)
Neither the rangers nor police disturb your sleep. Nor any vagabonds for that matter. After breakfast you head west to the border. Then south. Then east. Then north. And so on until after a way too long detour you find the Mexican border, and Tijuana. And cross over. No one stamps you out of America and no one stamps you into Mexico. Apparently this is important if you are to continue further south. So you head back to America to sort out these formalities. But look at the queue. Wow. That’s huge. Maybe cross elsewhere, eh? Let’s go east then and cross at Tecate.
Along the canal is at first the best way to go. But it isn’t so good and there is a road to take. So you take the road. Mexico is hot and dusty. It is built up for a good many km. And lots of hills too. You ask for directions. Tecate is further up and not too far either. Except it is a lot further.
You leave all buildings behind and enter the freeway. You see a cop car but they aren’t interested in you. There is a toll. You approach and are turned away. “Yes but how do I get to Tecate?” You try to convey. They aren’t interested in your problems, only that you will not cross this toll. So you head back down on the wrong side of the freeway and back towards Tijuana.
Suddenly two local cyclists appear from behind. One speaks great English. They are going to Tecate too when they spotted you. They are amazed at the toll situation. You accompany them back where there shouldn’t be any problems.
At the toll the same asshole guard crosses your path. He blocks your friend from continuing on. He is as stubborn not to let you pass as your friend is to pass. They argue in Spanish and your friend tries to get past. The other friend says to you ‘go’, and you do. The guard doesn’t bother about you so you keep on riding. Like a second wind you keep moving forward, occasionally looking back and always ready to be stopped by security. You feel bad about them being left behind after helping you get past but there’s no point in all three of you being up the proverbial shite creek paddleless.
You never do see your friends again. It is still quite a way to go to Tecate with lots of mountains to climb. You make it into town and to the border crossing. You spend twenty minutes in queue with the cars until someone tells you to just go to the front. Which you do. You sort everything out at immigration, first with America and then with Mexico. Job accomplished it is time to find a place to sleep. And then some food.
After all that some normality would be nice. So you eat dinner in a Chinese restaurant. Just like home.
To Mexicali: Some great scenery
Sunday August 5, 2007, 136 km (85 miles) – Total so far: 517 km (321 miles)
It sure is great to sleep in a bed again. Not to mention having a shower after going the best part of a week without. The used condom in the trashcan is a cause for worry though. You follow the freeway east until a sign proves the illegality of this. You get onto the highway.
You spend a lot of time heading uphill. And then, oh yes, downhill. 7 km straight downhill with spectacular scenery of rock covered mountains all around. Police had sectioned off a lane where a truck had overturned on a sharp corner. Nearby and further down the road are empty microwave boxes were people had pilfered the truck’s cargo.
You get to the bottom and it’s straight on through to Mexicali. But by now the wind picks up and it isn’t the tail kind. It is after dusk by the time you make it into town. You find a motel. It seems that motels here are for five hours only. You pay for the entire night but will you get woken in the middle of the night?
You pick up some supplies from the supermarket. On the way back a dog jumps up from behind its fence barking. Its owner is nearby. He laughs. You laugh too in a this-is-not-at-all-funny kind of way. You both continue in this fashion. The man laughing at your fright and you fake laughing at the cunt.
Mexicali sure aint tiny. There must be stuff to do here. But after today all you need to do is rest.
San Louis Rio Colorado.: Hot, hot, hot
Monday August 6, 2007, 80 km (50 miles) – Total so far: 597 km (371 miles)
No one comes banging on the door in the middle of the night, at least not loud enough to wake you. There are a couple staffs on duty but they don’t seem to notice you leaving. So you just go. It is late by the time you really get going. The temperature is already forty degrees out. The road is flat and the shoulder is wide. You don’t really leave Mexicali until twenty km later and in no time after that you are entering San Louis Rio Colorado.
It is only four o’clock and still very hot out. The town is similar to the previous couple you stayed in, hot and dusty, but nice all the same. You find a place to stay and go for a wander about town. There are some mariachis in town, wandering up and down the streets. You follow for a little while but nothing much is happening.
Tomorrow will see you crossing what is dubbed Mexico’s mini sahara. Two hundred km to the next town of any size. Flat and hot. So the plan is to leave early evening when the weather cools down and ride all night. You will need to take a lot of food and water. It’s going to be a long ride. Oh, and watch out for banditos.
To Sonoyta.: Crossing the mini Sahara
Wednesday August 8, 2007, 210 km (130 miles) – Total so far: 807 km (501 miles)
You leave just after six with a belly full of Chinese and most of the day’s heat behind. Thirty km later it gets dark. Really dark. Hey, don’t coyotes live in the desert? Traffic is bad. A b-double semi truck runs you off the road. It is do or die time as the gap between the trailer and the edge of the road narrows. It is too soon to die. You land in the sand. You get a flat but when you change it it just goes flat again. You stop to make some sandwiches. Back on the highway a cop pulls you over. Your rear light is hidden. Hmmm possibly dangerous.
Under their suggestion you put the bike in the boot of the car, scratching the paint job, and are driven three km to the nearest road-stop. You’ve been advised to stay here until dawn. Sounds like good advice. It is now one. Dawn is in four hours. May as well stay up all night then.
You do nod off for a while though. Come dawn you leave again for Sonoyta. It is good to see the scenery. Lots of cacti. And signs pointing out the various fauna around. Coyotes, road runners and some kind of large looking feline. You never entirely fix the tire. You try a few times and even find the cause of the trouble. But it still isn’t fixed.
A truck runs you off the road. You decide to get further on the road to prevent further drivers from nudging you off at their convenience. Later a car comes up from behind as a large truck comes from the other direction. You are towards the centre of your lane. The car driver cannot wait. He goes around and then tries to ram you off the road from the side. It is of no concern to him what happens to you.
You continue on. It gets hot. Above forty degrees hot. You continue on. You drink the last of the water. The kilometers tick down. Eventually you make it into Sonoyta, hot, dusty and thirsty as all hell. There are three hotels in town. All are expensive. But over the border back in America is a campsite. Might be worth going to.
There is a motel just on the other side of town so you go there. It is cheap and basic. There isn’t much to do in Sonoyta except avoid people asking you for money. This town has no character at all.
To Hermosillo.: CHEATING
Thursday August 9, 2007, 33 km (21 miles) – Total so far: 840 km (522 miles)
Plans of an early departure are thwarted when you sleep in. It is just after eight when you go and the sun is already beating down hot. You don’t get far before the tire goes flat. The same tire which has hindered your travels these last two days. The same tire you spent last night repairing.
You change the tube and continue on. And then.. it goes flat. And again. You spend a lot of time hiding under a little shade trying in vain to fix it. Flies and other insects bother about as they only know how. But it’s not going to happen. You can still ride the bike. Kinda. So you head out, wobbling along the highway. It is still way over a hundred km to the next town so you decide to do the only thing for it. Cheat.
You try hitching on a couple of buses but they won’t have it. There is a small town just up ahead though with some kind of immigration office. That’s probably your best bet. You make it there and an immigration officer helps you find a bus heading your way. Some guy tries to buy your sunglasses for five bucks. Yeah, right. They may be crap but it beats squinting all day. And away you go.
You decide on hermosillo. It is a lot further south but you are sure to find what you need there, not to mention skipping a lot of desert. You’re in rattle snake country you know.
You find a bike shop but by the time you get there it’s closed. A tomorrow job. You find a hotel close to the town centre and very close to a local prostitute corner. You go for a look. Mingers.
To Guaymas.: The gay invite
Friday August 10, 2007, 152 km (94 miles) – Total so far: 992 km (616 miles)
You find the bike shop and get what you need. You don’t leave until almost twelve. It is hot but clouds sometime help to block out the sun. Leaving town some guy tries to hit the back of the bike. Why? For fun?
Zoom, zoom, zoom, down the freeway. It sure is hot though. With stops and everything else you make it to Guaymas on dark. The traffic lights are about to turn red. You speed through. But a deep pot hole is suddenly in your path. And ‘clunk’ as you hit it. Both tires go flat.
Oh well, not far now and you start walking into town. Except it is far. You ask at hotels but they are all booked out, not to mention a bit on the expensive side. You walk down a street when someone says hello. A local resident is curious. He says you can stay there the night. So why not?
You go to the store and buy some beer for your host and yourself. He says that his bed is big so if you like you can sleep there. Or on his fold out chair. That is the only room in the house with air-conditioning. “How about the bed in the other room?” You ask. “But no air-conditioning.” He says. Hmmm.. this is awkward. But you get your way and have a great night’s sleep spread out on your own.
The bike can wait until morning.
To Ciudad Obregon: Hitching in Mexico
Saturday August 11, 2007, 79 km (49 miles) – Total so far: 1,071 km (665 miles)
As thanks for your host you leave a big dump in the toilet that just won’t flush. Time to fix the tires. You only have one new tire but the one you got just yesterday seems to still work fine. You stock up on supplies, have a quick look at the sea, and away you go.
It is hot out but you zoom down the freeway. You should make it to Ciudad Obregon in no time at all. Except your bike doesn’t want to get there so quickly. The tire blows after almost twenty km. And you bought it only yesterday. You put your last tube on the other tire which blew yesterday and that works fine. Until you hit one of those reflectors on the road and the tire gets all wobbly.
A sign points to a restaurant a few km up ahead. You ride the bike there on the flat tire. It appears to be some kind of military check point. But there’s a restaurant of sorts here. You buy some water and see what you can do about the tire. Two hours later you ride off for the last sixty km on a flat tire.
Wobbling all over the road isn’t much fun. You alternate between riding along the road with you thumb out in the air and standing beside the road with your thumb out in the air. The rims are looking pretty chipped from the rough treatment. How much longer before they become royally screwed?
You walk the bike into a small town. You sit down on a bench and drink some water. And then somebody actually stops. A lift? Por favor. You load the bike on the back of the ute, sorry ‘truck’ and climb on in. Hurray.
And sail on in to Ciudad Obregon, which by the way isn’t in your crap guidebook for a city of over a million people. Your friends drop you off outside a bike shop and you get what you need. Then find a hotel. Then spend a fair while trying to convey that you want to look at the room before you hand over your pesos. She thought you wanted to shower first. What a day. Time for some cerveza.
To Navojoa.: Just riding along
Sunday August 12, 2007, 76 km (47 miles) – Total so far: 1,147 km (713 miles)
The bed feels so good that it takes so much effort to get up. So you sleep in. But sooner or later you have to get up and brave the day. First things first. Fix the tire. You take the wheel outside but it is so hot that perhaps this is best done inside. The rim is chipped to hell. You try to file the inside smooth as best you can. Then fit the tube and tire. No problem. Let’s get out of here.
You try to get some supplies from a big department store on the edge of town but they won’t let you in with your bags. Buggered if you’ll leave your valuables behind. So you go to a nearby smaller store to get what you need.
You pass through a toll station but they’re not interested in you. On the other side traffic is diverted onto the oncoming lane. A little further up a truck is wedged across the road. Guess they were trying to avoid the toll by going up a side road.
It’s hot but cools down by the time you make it to Navojoa. The skies darken. It rains a little on dusk but you’re in town now. Lightning brightens up the cool sky.
It is 160 km to Los Mochis. That’s two easy days on the road. But if you get up early and get half of that done by the midday heat then you can spend an extra day in town doing nothing much. Maybe.
Los Mochis.: One very long day
Monday August 13, 2007, 171 km (106 miles) – Total so far: 1,318 km (819 miles)
Today is a day of snakes. There are quite a few of them waiting along the side of the road. Lucky for you they became road kill long before you chance upon them. There are two tolls today. You ride through both without concern. There is some kind of vehicular check point and soon after a military one.
It is a hot day. The sun burns your upper thighs despite putting on sunscreen. You leave Sonora state and enter Sinaloa. Roads for the most part now have shoulders. This does little to deter trucks and buses from driving as-dangerous-as-possibly close to you.
You stop at an Oxxo for an icecream and some rest. Some kids ask questions you couldn’t possibly understand. As you leave one says “Give me one dollar.” Fuck off.
The kilometers to Los Mochis dwindle down. There sure are a lot of them. But you should be able to make it by dusk. Closer and closer you get. Your legs become rubbery. Your hands and wrists hurt. Slowly the kilometers dwindle. You make it to the edge of town. And then the rear tire goes. Of course.
If you were too tired to cycle you sure are too tired to fix the tire. So you walk. It will be a good change for the legs, anyway. There is a hotel nearby. The price is a bit steep but they will barter. Kind of. They really don’t go down much on the price. So you move on. And on. Nine kilometers on you finally find a hotel, via burger king, and check in.
The plan was to spend a couple nights here to relax. But you are already ready to move on. Maybe a couple of easy days on the road is in order, find a nice beach and relax.
To Guamuchil.: A fly flew into my ear!!!
Tuesday August 14, 2007, 116 km (72 miles) – Total so far: 1,434 km (891 miles)
You enjoy the bliss of dozing in when suddenly a fly decides to investigate the inner workings of your left ear. It buzzes its way in and about and there is nothing you can do. What does this mean? Will maggots now breed inside your head? Aaagggghhhhhhh!!!!
It sure is hot so you waste time filling up on caffeine in Burger King and zoom on down the highway. You make good time too regardless of a couple early breaks. Your destination is just off the freeway about a hundred km into the day. The highway seems a little busier but the shoulders are nice and wide.
Just before Guamuchil you stop in a motel. Quite cheap but only for twelve hours. Hmmmmm 7:40 PM to 7:40 AM. How about I come back in a couple hours? The guy on reception lets you stay until 8:30 though. Just as well for him. After the extra four km into town you probably wouldn’t have gone back. Oh, and there is a TV in the room but it only has two channels and one of them is porn.
