9,000 feet down

Started our morning with a cafe de oila, too sweet for our taste buds. I couldn't even finish it. Nonetheless, breakfast was tasty and with a bit of a late start we were cruising downhill, still gliding smoothly on the newly paved road. Another few k's and we were back to the broken roads with achy hands and extreme heat. I knew it was too good to be true. The descent was nice and we could see the rolling hills of the rainforest as the night allowed for the mist to dissipate. Such beauty surrounding us and natural music filling our ears, making every pedal uphill worth it.

My biggest struggle with Mexico is the "machismo". If Ryan and I have some distance between, and especially if I am riding ahead, I get heckled from the small town Mexicans. It starts with a small whistle, the up and down whistle men often give when saying someone looks good. As this happens often, I keep my head forward and try to ignore. More often than not, the whistles continue along with a "chica, chica, chica. CHICA! HOLA CHICA! HOLA CHICA!" And then the whistling starts that is the same high pitched whistle used when getting a dogs attention. Up until this particular descent, I have been patient and simply smile and wave. I think the heat, combined with the disappointment of so many ups when told it was solely down, and ready to arrive in Puerto Escondido, I just couldn't take the heckling and I somehow got really frustrated and annoyed. For those of you who know me, this does not happen often. Poor Ryan had to deal with my mood. I do not understand how the women in this country deal with such men. It is so demeaning and the only way to make them be quiet is to acknowledge them. As a result, I simply raise my hand and keep my head forward, not giving the satisfaction of true acknowledgement. I know this is part of the culture but I was just having a moment. I know, poor me, right? Gosh, as I write this I realize how silly those feelings of frustration are:-)

Over the Sierra Madres to the Pacific Ocean

8am and still groggy from a fairly awful nights rest. Cockroaches, a few gunshots (celebratory?), constant noise from the youngsters living in the hotel and the load speaker in town carrying on well into the night made for a rough nights sleep. We loaded up and made our way into town to fill our water and eat some breakfast. The corner shop run by an older woman and her grand-daughter working hand in hand with ease and comfort to accommodate the majority of town that seemed to be waiting patiently for their cooking. The older woman slowly grabs the homemade tortilla dough from a large bowl, occasionally dipping her hand in a bucket of water before placing the balled dough between 2 metal sheets and firmly pulling the lever down to make tortilla at a time. Using the wood burning method, she places each tortilla on the hot bowl like surface and easily maneuvers the tortillas every 10-15 seconds to make the perfect tortilla. We ate a large quesadilla willed with frijoles and queso, a local Oaxacan cheese most similar to a stringy and salty mozzarella. Absolutely delicious. The homemade salsa served with each plate is always the best. Next on our list, getting past the next blockade.

Road Block

Although tempted to stay another night in Oaxaca, we took Murakami's words of wisdom in What I Talk about when I Talk about Running and decided to leave the vibrant city when we still wanted to be there in hopes of going back one day. Murakami says to stop running while you are still enjoying it so you will want to run again. Great words to live by! A great author and someone I have come to love reading during this phase in life.

Although we left our room at 11:30am, we did not leave the city until 2. How does that happen? Knowing we have a lot of ups and plenty of mountains to cover before we hit the beach and the town of Puerto Escondido, we stocked up on snacks and dinners. The ride today was fairly simply, only covering maybe 35-40 miles. The sun was hot and our tans hit a new level, which is great because maybe, just maybe we won't stick out so much? Yes, that is a question. In these small towns, all eyes are on us.

The last town before our climb we were planning/hoping to find a hotel or place to stay. Upon riding up to Ayoquezco about 200 or so of the local townspeople, men and women included, had blockaded the road with buses, boulders and logs, and the majority of people were armed with machetes. Uhhhhh.....shit. All eyes turned on us as we slowly pushed our bikes into the crowd unsure if they would even let us pass. The crowd opened up once the town elders in white cowboy hats motioned us through (we also heard a few "andele, andele"). Without any towns up ahead, we were stuck. We pulled into the center of town and right away a young man asked if we spoke English. Phew, someone to help us and let us know the reason for the blockade. It turns there is a land dispute with another local town, which would also explain the pickup truck loaded with men and machine guns. The retaliation is a blockade preventing anyone from coming in or going out. It looks like tomorrow should be interesting.

Puebla and Oaxaca, Mexico - Pictures

Colonial Puebla

one of the supposed 365 churches of Cholula

Grillin' papas

Road side Comedor (food stop)

Elotes

Fried grasshoppers

Luche Libre Mexican wrestling masks

Carne Asada!

The Ruins of Monte Alban, Oaxaca

Crossing the Sierra Madres

Crossing the Sierra Madre range......up, up and more up. We had been warned by all those we came across that getting over the Sierra Madres was A LOT of climbing. We also emailed with a guy who has spent almost two years on his bike who suggested this route rather than taking the highway, stating somewhere in the email that this climb in "rewarding". I think his idea of an award and our idea of an award are two very different things. The sun was blazing and we hit the major ups in the dead heat of the afternoon. Not quite knowing what we were getting into, and up until this point we had come across a town with at least a small shop and often a food stand, we were not prepared with food and water. Not in the least. Three hours into climbing and we were exhausted, hot, even more burnt than yesterday, thirsty and out of water. Because of the way the road twisted and turned around every canyon and ridge, we were never quite sure what lie ahead or where the top would be and the climbing would stop. Hitting our maxed out point and then some with night falling, we came across one house being build on a papaya farm high on a ridge. Two men were just finishing their days labor when we asked for water and they gladly filled our bottles. They rode off on a donkey and we were left to figure out where to sleep. Two dogs barked at our presence in the backyard, but with nowhere to go and no place to hide our tent, we swept a small space in the unfinished shelter under the stars. After a quick dinner of our emergency supply of ramen (that has never before tasted so good), we were on our backs hoping it wouldn't rain and we wouldn't be discovered. I do not think I have ever been so nervous during a nights "sleep" and hope to never feel that way again.

Puebla into Oaxaca, changing states

The second day out is always enjoyable. Our butts don't hurt, our endurance is kicking and we are excited to be back on the bikes, making for a touch longer day. As the sun began to set and thunder booming all all around, we found ourselves in the town of Cocaxtalan, at a quaint little place called the Cazadores hotel that was in the process of being newly renovated. A quick shower and we were out through the alley and across the street ready for dinner. Not knowing what we were getting, simply pointing to the torta the woman was making for the other customer, we happily devoured our crispy pork filled sandwich and guzzled down a family size corona. Life is good.

After 9 hours on the bike, I was asleep just after 8 and Ryan 9, barely budging until 8am. 12 hours of sleep a night is fairly typical when we are riding long days. I guess our life mainly consists of riding, eating and sleeping. That morning, we were enjoying the nice, clean hotel, reading our books when I noticed there was not any noise coming from the remodeling. Odd because Mexicans start work early and work hard throughout the day. The amount of manual labor here is unlike anything I have seen. They do not sit around like we often see at construction sites in the states. I peeked out the window and sure enough, 5 guys were sitting in the 2 feet of shade along the wall waiting for us to rise. How thoughtful. I instantly opened our door to let them know we were up and about which worked out perfectly because we needed to start moving the pedals before the sun was too hot.

Puebla, Mexico for an extra 3 days

The weather was due to set in for the weekend, so we contacted someone on warmshowers.com, the wonderful website we discovered in the states that hosts bicycle tourers, offering a bed, laundry, kitchen and the obvious one, a shower. Luck was on our side and we were fortunate to get in touch with Ricardo and Juli who opened their home (technically Ricardo's father's home, but he was away for most of the weekend) and their company. Ricardo is Mexican and Juli is German. Although a fairly uncommon match within the Mexican culture, they have formed a beautiful relationship. We talked for hours and had spectacular conversations, talking about everything from everyday life to illegal immigrants in the US to the world as a whole. We thoroughly enjoyed the weekend just cruising around Puebla and Cholula as well as spending time with Ricardo, Juli and Ernesto (Ricardo's father, a great man who has worked very hard to provide his family with so much and encouraged them to make Mexico and the world a better place).

After 3 extra days in Puebla, we were off early Monday morning, our first official day back on the bikes. Next major destination: Oaxaca City (pronounced: Wa-ha-ka). Dodging traffic until the outskirts of the city, we were on our way. The roads are quite different here. Rules do not necessarily apply and as much as I wanted to always be looking around at the people and scenery, my head was down trying to avoid unsigned potholes as wide as car doors.

Back in the saddle again

We spent the winter months in beautiful San Diego, CA hanging Christmas lights and picking up shifts bartending or serving whenever possible. A few months spending time with my brothers Joe and CJ and making a few dollars to enable us to get back on our bikes for another adventure. Ryan spent our last days in San Diego in his typical departure ritual of preparing the bikes for travel (finding boxes and packing material and breaking them down to their smallest capacity), going through all of our gear, and simply tying up all lose ends. I was lucky enough to have a few days work-free to soak up as much time as possible with my brothers. The last two weeks, we managed to kayak (and were lucky enough to see dolphins, sea lions and whales), camp in the desert, watch CJ's new band The Deadly Birds perform and sailed. A great way to end a two+ month stretch of hard work. I will miss my brothers so much as they are both such fantastic people and we all have a great time together. I am so lucky.