Day 88 to 90 – to somewhere near the Mexico - USA border

17 to 19 June    Kms travelled – 21,738

Another day on the road awaited as I woke to the unhappy sound of heavy rain beating the external vent of the air conditioning unit.  A sound that did little to motivate me as I crawled about of the sack and started to pack the bike.  At least Idris was parked under cover, so I was able to get ready in the dry, and then we rolled slowly out of Acayucan in the direction of Veracruz.  I was half hoping that my tardiness would allow the rain to move on, but no such luck.  It was coming down straight, and looked set for the day.  Perhaps the only option was to ride out of it, so that is what we aimed to do.

I don´t have much to report from this section of the journey, the roads being both miserable and wet – very wet.  But what can you expect when travelling at the edge of a hurricane.  Carlotta had now been categorised at level 2 (not sure exactly what that meant, other than a lot of water was involved!).  But we trundled on passed Veracruz and up the Mexican Gulf coastline in the search of a clear sky. 

I did note the cost of the tolls on the road, having paid some 450 pesos this day for a road that was still very much scattered with potholes – which I can report as particularly tricky to avoid in the rain.  Later into the afternoon we did eventually find a break in the weather, but as we rolled into Pozo Rico for an overnight stop, we were met with the most torrential downpour.  Perhaps a last fling from mother nature for the day, as following that the sky cleared in time to let in the evening sun (just in time to dry out the streets and up the humidity levels to almost unbearable).  Not the greatest riding day known to man, but we had made progress and that was good.

Safe parking was found at the Hotel Iberica, but so were a multitude of bugs, no doubt excited by the late evening warmth.  So some bug hunting and a local pizza later, I hit the hay for a fitful night of limited rest. 

After probably the worst night’s sleep to date, we headed out in the direction of Ciudad Victoria on quite a nice road.  I was enjoying the green countryside and gently rolling hills for a while, but then things just got flat and, to be honest, pretty boring.  What can I say... I suppose spectacular scenery all the time is just too much to ask.  I did the distance, and found a nice hotel in Cuidad Victoria to crash for the night.  I was pretty tired, and decided to have a late morning the next day, it being now only some 290 kilometres from the USA border.  But another night of poor sleep (unusual for me) ensued. 

My late morning was later than I planned by the time I had helped myself to breakfast and did some stuff online...  big mistake.  I awoke to some pretty breezy weather – dry but blowing consistently.  Away by 11, but the weather seemed to crank up a notch every 30 minutes or so – both in terms of the temperature and wind velocity.  It was later described to me like a fan being turned up from the lowest to highest setting!

I found myself having to stop quite often to take on water and to rest my now aching limbs.  We also had to stop a number of times at heavily armed military checkpoints, as the locals tried to get to grips with the increasing drug gang violence.  The wind was starting to strain my neck, shoulders, arms and hands.  This ride was getting painful – but still, not too far to go to the border at Matamoros. 

But by 2 in the afternoon the wind had beaten me.  I had managed only 20 kms since my last rest stop, and my body was now so strained that my arms and hands were shaking.  The wind just continued to increase, and I felt that perhaps this was the tail of the hurricane whipping around the Gulf and back across this flat landscape.  To make matters worse the line of trees that had been shielding much of the route to date just petered out.  It was now a full on sidewind that forced me to stop.  And stop I did as we wobbled into the forecourt of a small roadside restaurant in the tiniest of villages south of Santa Teresa.  We were some 80 kms from the border at Matamoros, and right in the heart of gang territory. 

The Gonzalez Fernandez family - my saviours!

I threw myself on the mercy of the local family that ran the restaurant, as we explored possible options for transporting me and the bike to the border or a local hotel.  But there were no local hotels, and the nearest (some 20kms away) was in any event fully occupied by the extra police drafted in to work in the area.  Equally there were no vehicles available to transport the bike...  and the wind continued to increase to gale force.  The Gonzalez Fernandez family agreed that I could stay at their home.  Indeed they noted that I should stay, citing the dangers not only from the wind, but from the hoods that frequented the area.  They proceeded to feed and water me, finding a safe haven for Idris for the night, while I was regaled with horrendous tales of life in the Mexican border lands.

These were good people, seeking to scratch out a life in an already difficult economic situation, but the violence that had been steadily increasing in the area over recent years had impacted badly on the volume of passing trade.  This was also notable when I passed through the beautiful Costa Esmeralda a couple of days earlier, where hotels which once serviced a steady flow of US tourists were sitting idle and falling to ruin.  I was told that no one should travel the road between 6 in the evening and 8 in the morning – and that locals had been shot for not answering to the thugs.  The wind had died right down (almost as if someone had finally switched off the fan), but as I didn´t fancy a death of my own I stayed put – with huge gratitude to the family who had taken in this vulnerable stranger.  As a measure of the hospitality I received I had to insist that they take some money for the food, drink and accommodation provided.  But I had to insist hard, and only then was such a small amount accepted that I doubt it even covered their costs for what I was given.  A really humbling experience, and one that has enriched my journey the memories of which will stay with me for a very long time.   

Thought for the day

A number of events have already taken place during this adventure that have given pause for thought as to whether there was a greater guiding hand nudging me in one direction or the other as I make my way north.  Here was another.  Wind so high that afternoon that no motorcycle could have travelled along that road forced me to stop at the door of such a generous family.  And, I discovered from the news later that evening, preventing me from getting to a town where a gun fight had taken place in the street at a time which would have coincided with my arrival.  My wife says I am a lucky guy and there can be no doubt that I am.  But I cannot help thinking that some of that luck comes from a guardian angel, or angels, seeking to ensure that I complete my goal and return home safe and sound.  A thought that was mulling through my mind as I turned in that day, and resulted in the first good night´s rest for days.

Why am I doing this?

For those of you who have not been following my travels to date, my name is Pat McCarthy (aka Barcelona Pat), and I am travelling by motorcycle solo from Tierra del Fuego at the southern tip of Argentina to Alaska.

In my last web-posting at www.patonabike.blogspot.com I clocked up over 20,000 kms travelled in 87 days.  However, as I head from the developing countries into the more affluent world, I thought it timely to reflect on some of what I have seen and how that relates to my fundraising efforts. 

Once I had taken the decision to do the `Big Trip´ I quickly realised that it would be more meaningful if I linked my efforts to some cause.  I had two thoughts:  the organisation had to be working in each of the countries through which I travel (for obvious reasons); and they had to be helping kids (the reasoning for this is explained in the Day 76 entry on my website).  There were not many organisations that met these criteria, and UNICEF was the obvious choice.

I was aware of their work in a general sense through my job, but it was only when I looked more closely into what UNICEF are achieving across the world in support of those most in need did I fully realise how worthy an organisation they are.  While a United Nations agency, they are only funded through voluntary donations, but they are very efficient.  For example Unicef UK is able to direct 76% of all donations direct to programme work with children (2009 figure).  That´s pretty impressive in my book.  And, when you consider that (for UK tax payers) the UK Government will match what you give with a further 20% through the most excellent Gift Aid scheme, it would be true to say that almost all of what you give goes to support kids directly.

I have deliberately not taken photos of young people as I have travelled, emotive as they can be.  But the images I have seen will remain with me.  Children as young as 5 or 6 years old having to hawk their wares on street corners, instead of having the opportunity to learn and enjoy a true childhood.  Cheeky and often cute it is easy to forget as a traveller passing through that they should not be there!  I am alive to the economic pressures placed on people in poorer countries - but depriving small children of their rights to education, their rights to gain the tools to achieve their full potential, their rights to better contribute to their own societies as they grow up – is false economy in my book.  Unicef works to ensure that children´s rights are protected – as violence against kids is not limited to the developing world.  Just have a look at the statistics for the number of children living in poverty in the world´s richest countries – eye opening stuff!

This is where Unicef plays a real role.  Because of who they are they are able to affect change at the Governmental level in over 190 countries around the world, ensuring that policies and programmes are put in train that protect these kids, and their right to be children.  But they are also able to work at the ground level directly funding projects that changes real lives every day. 

In the education field, an area close to my heart, they help build schools, train teachers and buy books so that those without access can learn.  But interestingly they view the development of the child in a holistic way.  A child´s wellbeing is not simply served through access to classes.  Unicef´s rights work is essential, so are their health programmes.  An estimated 4,000 children die every day from diarrhoea caused by poor sanitation and a lack of safe water.  A preventable disease that claims so many is outrageous in the 21st century.  Any world traveller who has experienced the `travellers trotts´ (as I did in Peru) will have some insight into the problems experienced by these kids on a daily basis.

Unicef´s work in seeking to tackle these problems is truly amazing stuff by anyone´s standards – and that is why I chose to link my journey to their work.

And you too can be part of this journey.  For those of you who have already donated you have my sincerest thanks.  For those of you who are planning to support these kids – now is the time to act.  Don´t put it off until later.  Do it now.  Click here and donate direct to Unicef through the secure Just Giving website. 

I have been amazed and honoured by the (at the time of writing) 15,000 plus hits I have had on my website - but I also have a favour to ask as I think quite a number of you are repeat visitors.  If I am going to reach my targets for this endeavour, I need to expand awareness of what I am doing and why.  If you could spare a few minutes of your time – here are some examples of how you can really help me out, and become part of Pat Around the Americas – and help Unicef´s work:

• e-mail the website link and just giving page details to all your friends, family and work contacts...  saying something like:    You might be interested in the trip that this guy I know is doing, riding his motorbike solo from Argentina to Alaska and raising money for Unicef.  Have a look at his website (you can also subscribe direct for further updates), and perhaps donate something to his cause.  It is really interesting stuff – and some great photos.  The links are:  www.patonabike.blogspot.com  and http://www.justgiving.com/patrickmccarthy

• Share the website links with all your contacts on facebook, twitter etc.  Feel free to `friend me´ - Pat McCarthy is the name.

• Have a quick whip-round for spare change from colleagues in your workplace, family, club or other social grouping (you can print a copy of this to show them what it is all about).  After collecting you can donate the sum online through the Just Giving link, so you´ll also get a record of that donation.  Remember to note the fact on Just Giving if all people contributing are UK tax payers, so Unicef can get the 20% Gift Aid contribution.

I am funding every penny of this trip myself, but I want to eventually match those costs with donations to Unicef.  This whole project will last a couple of years – but please help me meet my first major milestone on the fundraising road, while Idris and I are still battling our way northwards.

Many thanks

Pat

Day 86 to 87 – to Acayucan, Mexico

15 to 16 June    Kms travelled – 20,626

The short break in Antigua, Guatemala, made a huge difference to our preparedness for the next stage of the journey – Mexico.  Arguably at present the most dangerous country through which we are travelling – and it just got worse.  Time spent chilling in Guatemala also enabled my lovely wide to alert me to a tropical storm brewing out in the Pacific, which was heading at pace for Mexico.  The day before we decided to leave Antigua, it was upgraded to a class 1 hurricane.  Carlotta was due to hit the Mexican coast in 2 days, and winds of up to 160kph were being projected and schools were being closed etc as the locals prepared themselves for the worst.  I needed to get into Mexico as soon as possible then high-tail it over to the east coast and north to be safe.  Given all the news reports of gang violence and crime levels in various parts of the country, I had been debating which route to take through Mexico to the USA.  Carlotta had now pretty much decided that for me.

So it was an early 6:30 start as we rolled out of Hotel Calle Ancha saying our goodbyes to my sister.  There was mist in the hills as we weaved our way through the greenery and a series of small towns on the way to Chichicastenango and lake Atitlan.  In fact it got really quite cold and I turned on the heated grips for the first time in a while – I would have liked to dig out a fleece too, but it was well packed inside my luggage.  But the cool temperature wasn´t to last, and normal tropical service resumed.  In fact the ride to the border was lovely, through green valleys and over scenic mountains, but it took longer than I expected.  Luckily time was made up at the border, which was much quicker than I expected; well within my 2 hour target time. 

The ride on to Comitán was also lovely, through and out of the mountain country and across flatter plains, before running up and around rolling green hillsides.  This was the sort of terrain that just called out for you to turn around and ride again.  But Carlotta and the time of day was on my mind (I promised myself I would be off the road by around 4:00 each day for security reasons).  So it was onto Hotel San Francisco in the centre of town, and an interesting evening of tacos and mariachis in the town square.  Arriba, arriba!  I was in Mexico, and so far all was good.

The next day´s early start greeted me with more cool mist as we wound our way through the lush countryside and small Mexican towns.  I am sure I will get used to the mass of sleeping policemen (topes) that are found close to and through any built up area in Mexico, but I hadn´t yet!  They seemed to come in all sizes and shapes – some with warning signs, others without.  Some local people, often disabled, seemed to paint them to warn oncoming traffic then sit in the middle of the road to collect tips for their efforts.  The topes did, however, provide the ideal opportunity to pass large trucks easily and safely, as Idris´ suspension was clearly more up to the task of leaping the obstacles than the more weightier road users.

The road started to climb and we soon found ourselves looking down on a carpet of snowy white cloud cover in the valley below.  I would have loved to capture that in a photo, but was uncomfortable about stopping on this fast mountain road (which didn´t seem to have any viewpoints for us tourists).  Fantastic sight though. 

As we were running through Tuxtla I met a chap from Spain on a GS650 who was planning on heading over to the 200 and the Pacific coast.  Having passed on the information about the hurricane, he duly changed plans, also deciding that the Gulf of Mexico might well be nicer at this time of the year!  And the road over there wasn´t too bad either.  Perhaps not the greatest riding road we have encountered, but nevertheless we did get to see some fantastic scenery, lakes, green mountainsides, before hitting the more industrial areas that lined the east coast.  Idris and I were heading for Veracruz, but the clock struck 5:00 and reminded me to get off the road for the day. 

The Hotel Los Angeles in Acayucan had what I needed for a cheap and safe overnight stop, and the town was also in the midst of its annual festival, which would have been great other than the torrent of rain that hit at around 7 in the evening, and continued right through to the next day, kind of wiped out the main parade.  Carlotta´s hands had reached out across the Mexican isthmus and were intent on slapping this little town around for the rest of the night.  I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Thought for the day

Not a particularly deep thought, but I have been struck by how green and fertile this area of Mexico is and, if first appearances are anything to go by, largely prosperous.  Perhaps that shouldn´t come as much of a surprise given the tropical nature of the area here in the south, but I couldn´t seem to shift this clichéd view of Mexico being cactus in desert, with tatty towns serving tequila to moustached cowboys carrying shotguns while riding in the back of rusty old pickup trucks.  The cowboys certainly do exist, but they appear unarmed, well dressed and ride around in pretty new wheels.  Perhaps Hollywood has a lot to answer for!  We´ll see.

Oh, and another thought that I can´t seem to shift...  the food here is fantastic!  Interestingly, it mostly comes with the sauces on the side, so you can eat your fill while choosing your own level of spiciness.   

Day 82 to 85 – to Antigua, Guatemala

11 to 14 June    Kms travelled – 19,405

An early start was ensured for my first day in El Salvador as the auto-motel was paid for by the hour, which ran out for me at 6:00 am.  No matter, the sky was clear and with the road before me I decided to head towards Santa Ana before swinging round to follow the Route of the Flowers (which was recommended by a guide book) – but which I found signposted on the road as the Route of the Oranges.  Either that or I followed a different run.  I had the day to enjoy the countryside, and the road led me up and around a series of old volcanoes with lovely scenery.  The route was also a little cooler due to some degree of altitude. 

I made a pit stop at a roadside restaurant which was lined outside by a string of bikes.  It was not long before I was chatting to Jorge, who works for the local Yamaha dealers, and his mates about bikes, the trip, his country – you know, all that sort of thing.  Nice!  The downside was that I discovered that I had already pretty much completed my planned route for the day, and it was only 10:00 in the morning!  El Salvador is not a very big place.  Seeing this long line of gleaming metal did put me and Idris´ somewhat muddy countenance to shame, though we were able to rib one of the guys who felt a trip over a day long was probably a bit too far to ride!   

Trying to get the most of the decent from the hills, I was soon heading out towards the coast in the hot, sweaty weather to which I had become accustomed.  One big plus was, however, the realisation that I was no longer coughing and sneezing in my helmet, but that I actually felt pretty good.  Needless to say the coastal area didn´t last long either, and I soon rolled into a border town called Cara Sucia at around midday with a smile on my face.

I had a smile as Cara Sucia means dirty face and seemed a funny choice for the name of the first town a visitor from the north might encounter.  Luckily the local hotel had safe parking and didn´t take the town´s name to heart.  The afternoon was spent chilling out, wandering around the small town seeking some form of internet connection, and wondering at the timeliness and the force of the late afternoon thunderstorms.

The border the next day was pretty straightforward until it came to the Guatemalan customs (Aduana) for the temporary importation of the bike.  That necessitated a bit of running around, paying fees direct to the bank (to avoid any possibility of corruption – well done Guate!) and that sort of thing.  At least their offices had an indoor waiting room with good air conditioning.  Both sides of the border had been completed well within my (now) 2 hour time limit – which was becoming a bit of a target or challenge for me.  We mustn´t take longer than 2 hours... just don´t ask me why!

My plan was to ride up to Lake Atitlan then back to Antigua for an extended (for me) stay at the previously recommended, and most welcoming, Hotel Calle Ancha.  But despite the nice dirt road I was on, it just got too hot.  By the time I was getting close to the turn off for Antigua I had had enough, and headed directly up to the town, cooler weather and a break.  As soon as I was settled in I was out and about exploring this fascinating town.  I got Idris cleaned up and serviced – we were rapidly approaching the 20,000 km mark.  And I also made the necessary arrangements to get to the airport the next day to collect one of my sisters who was flying in for her summer hols.  We were going to spend the next three days hanging out in the town, before I headed off towards Mexico and left her to her own devices.

And what a place to hang out in.  OK, I know that Antigua is a bit on the touristy side, but there is certainly a good reason why tourists head in this direction.  You are faced with a wide range of good quality eateries, reasonably (and unreasonably) priced places to stay, lovely buildings separated by original cobblestone streets, a wide array of crafts and gift shops – most of which seemed to be owned and run by indigenous Guatemalans – all of which sits at the base of the most spectacular Volcan de Agua (volcano of water).

Also one of the more noticeable aspects of this country is the number of the wonderfully attractive and colourful indigenous people you encounter when visiting.  Those we engaged with were charming, and the textiles they produce were just begging to be bought.  We lost track of the hours spent wandering around the market area; a place so large that it was also easy to lose track of where you were.  I hate to think what I would have come away with if I had had room on the bike.  Guatemala was seriously challenging Nicaragua for the spot as my favourite Central American country.

Thought for the day

It was great to hang out with one of my sisters, even if it did seem a little odd that we were doing so on the other side of the world (it was also a great opportunity to dump some bits of kit that I was not using). 
As we each plough through our respective daily grinds we often don’t get the chance to spend a bit of quality time together.  At their best, families are always there for us, blood being thicker and all that, especially in times of need.  But it is still really nice to spend time with family when there is no particular need.  I felt I was leaving Antigua rested and recharged, with my glass back to being half full.  Both Idris and I were shiny again.