Guaymas to Los Mochis

May 10th, 2016

Guaymas is a picturesque city situated in a series of jagged volcanic peaks and valleys that abut the ocean.  There are some substantial cliffs in the city’s foot hills that could and may have sport climbing routes, one buttress maybe some multi-pitch.  I had a leisurely morning at the hotel and did a few maintenance tasks to the bike- mainly cleaning sand out of the gears from all the riding through construction- and then took a scenic and somewhat safe-feeling beltroute out of the city and on to Guaymas’ twin city Empalme.  Got groceries there and then headed out against a light headwind.  No shoulder for the first stretch and then more construction.

The workers were happy to let me through, and curious about where I was from and headed.  Slept nearby.  A few mosquitos about and  I’m getting close to the “malaria boundary”.   Next day saw some of the worst of the construction zones and I had to push the bike over course road base for maybe a mile.  The pannier rack finally broke where it attaches to the frame under the seat. I’ve known it was a weak point and something I’ve wanted to fix properly for some time.   If this thing would have broken while battling the semis on shoulderless highway it would have really been bad- the whole load sort of rotates rearward until it drags on the ground.

I keep a few pieces of scrap metal, a fine-toothed sawsall blade and a file in the front pack for repairs like this.  It’s actually the second time I’ve fixed it this trip and was really in need of a better repair at the first opportunity.   I found a weld shop in the town of Vicum.  Rodolfo, the owner, had a stronger piece steel strap to replace what I had on hand.  My explanation to him of the problem was probably as wrongly worded as it was superfluous- he knew what to do right off and did a great fix.  He didn’t see any need to be payed and I made him take $10.   This was quite different than with a guy at a tire shop a couple of weeks earlier that extorted $10 to lend me a 3/8″ drive ratchet (I had the socket) to tighten a crank arm to the bottom bracket spindle.  With this guy, I was standing there with my wallet open trying to understand how much he wanted and he reached in and grabbed a US $10 bill!  Two ends of the spectrum there- no different than home, I guess.

After Vicum is a 35 mile stretch to Obregon, a city of 300 thousand.  The cities of Obregon and Novajoa, 50 miles further south, are fully modern cities and contrast sharply from other towns thus far which have had  more “Old Mexico” centers surrounded by fast food and box stores thrown up at the outskirts.  Many businesses would be familiar anywhere in the US.

Cars here are generally late-model and would probably pass emissions in the US; however, a fair percentage of the older ones tend to belch smoke.  Building-lined, narrow streets in the cities trap the exhaust and the air there can really be bad.  Recycling doesn’t appear to exist on the surface but it’s said that they separate it out at the landfills.  And you’ll see people walking the highways in the middle of nowhere picking up aluminum cans.

I had coffee and quiche in an Crumb Brothers-like coffee shop in Novajoa, The Los Alamos Café, that served espresso, latte, cappuccino and anything you’d find at Starbucks.  A group of cyclists came into the café and were instantly curious about me, having seen the loaded bike outside. I gave the same broken Spanish answers to things like “paraundiba” (para donde va- where ya headed- never could find paraundiba in the dictionary and finally had to ask somebody to write it out). It turned out one of them spoke English and I finally had the satisfaction of a reciprocal conversation with someone and learned many things about the surroundings that I would have otherwise blown past. His name was Jorge (“hoargay”) and the group was employees of a cooking oil manufacturer out for a Saturday ride and coffee. The scene could have been in France or Italy. The oil appears to be safflower, and is grown locally from a thistle-type plant that may be called aceites del mayo. The name of the company is Oleico and is seen on Jorge’s jersey.

 

Soon the café owner, Alfredo and coffee roaster Fernanado came out and introduced themselves and we talked for a half-an-hour in very understandable English.  They left me with a hat with the Los Alamos logo on it.  Fernando is getting ready to take a trip to Ethiopia on coffee business.  These guys are thriving.

The ride from Novajoa to Los Mochis took two nights, each spent in beautiful desert camps where plants and birds are becoming less and less recognizable.  Saw parakeets and a woodpecker that looked like a Gila.

 

 

More road repair pushed me onto the now familiar   construction zones that seem to be laid out in 10 mile blocks.   There is always a decision to be made about what’s rideable and when you have to get off and push.   Riding one rocky stretch I finally gave myself a flat and pushed the bike to the nearest shade to work on it.  I shared the spot with Felix Lopez who was assembling reinforcement rebar for a concrete bridge abutment.   We communicated as best we could about tires, road construction and weather while I changed the tire.   He lived nearby and soon his family walked up to bring him lunch.  They shared with me an awesome bowl of minestrone-type soup and fresh corn tortillas.

The next milestone was crossing into the state of  Sinaloa and onto the city of Los Mochis.   On the last leg into town a man pulled along side and started to tell me something in the the usual blur of words that more and more I respond to with a sheepish “como?”  He pointed to the horizontally-laid, orange stuff sack that rides over my panniers.  The drawstring had come loose and it was now half empty.  Then I understood him perfectly “Señor, your shit’s scattered from hell to breakfast all along the highway”.  Thanks to him I recovered everything.  It’s not the first time Mexicans have saved me from myself.