North to Alaska… by Ferry

July 12

I boarded the MV Kennicott in Bellingham for what was to be a three day trip to Haines, Alaska.  From there I intended to ride to Anchorage.  But plans change, which is just fine with me.

The Kennicott carries about 200 vehicles and 500 passengers.  It’s definitely not a cruise ship, but it is comfortable enough.  Fortunately I had reserved a cabin about three months ago.  I certainly didn’t want to spend three days sitting up in a chair.  It turned out there were many more options:  A lot of people were well prepared and put up tents on the deck or in the solarium.  While they looked comfortable enough, I preferred an actual bunk. 

Our route took us up through what is called the Inside Passage, a set of islands and passages that go along the British Columbia and Alaska coastline.  There were spectacular views around every bend. 

This is a very remote area.  We saw a number of cabins along the shoreline, but most could only be reached by boat or float plane.  I particularly liked this lodge in BC, with its totem poles.

On the third day (Monday) our first stop was Ketchikan, Alaska.  This is a cute little city very popular with the cruise ships.  We had about a three hour stopover which I used to catch up on email at a local coffee shop and a little sightseeing.  Aside from salmon fishing, Ketchikan had a very active red light district (now closed… damn!) which is now a bunch of tourist shops and art galleries.  However, there is one very well know artist, Ron Troll, who does some incredibly clever T shirts. 

This is the artwork on the one I bought.  Since El Pinguino is a Kawasaki, it seemed only appropriate.  Actually, it's just perfect!

A Change in Plans, and an encounter of the idiot kind.

Wednesday morning (6 am) we arrived at Juneau.  I was originally scheduled to change boats at Juneau for Haines, and then ride the bike (about 2 days) to Anchorage.  I had figured I would be bored after three nights at sea and ready to get back on the road.  But I was really enjoying the boat.  The scenery was spectacular, I met some nice people to talk (and drink.. thanks, US Coast Guard) with, and I was actually getting caught up on this blog!  So I decided to see if I could continue on another two days to Whittier, just outside of Anchorage. 

Changing my passage wasn’t a problem, but the clerk told me that the car space was sold out.  “Wait”, says I, “this is a motorcycle and can fit in anywhere.  And besides, it’s still tied up on the boat”.  Not to be deterred, he firmly told me that if the computer said there was no room for another car, there was no room. A car is a car… even if it is a motorcycle (huh?).  Undeterred, I asked him to call someone capable of actual thought (OK, I was a little more tactful), and he finally confirmed me space.  I had gotten even luckier regarding a cabin (I was still not willing to sleep on deck).  A couple that I had met earlier who was camping on deck had a cabin booked from Juneau to Whittier.  They decided that they enjoyed the deck (and didn’t want to pay for a cabin) so sold me their cabin.  A win for everyone!

Later Tuesday was Whale Day (officially named by yours truly).  I don’t think they planned it, but we were treated to a number of spouts and a couple of flukes near the shore.  Always exciting! 

During the voyage the car deck was closed off for security reasons.  However, four times a day we were allowed access to vehicles.  For those with big RVs this was a good opportunity to re-stock their coolers with beer.  For me, it was an opportunity to tell El Pinguino I still loved him, but he had to stay on the car deck with the other vehicles.  But it was a real necessity for those traveling with animals, and the car deck turned into (at least for 15 minutes) a floating doggie park. 

Other than that, it was just one spectacular view after another of mountains. 

And glaciers, like the Malspina Glacier  

And finally, on July 12, the final stage of the journey begins:

  

Salmon, Snow, Seattle, Slipped Chains, and Off to Alaska!

July 7

On July 2 I left Ashland and headed towards Hood River, Oregon.  I avoided the major highways and had a nice ride to the Columbia River.  The scenery was beautiful, as I passed Mounts Adams, Baker, Hood, and a couple of more that I can’t name. 

I finally got to the Columbia River, where I hit winds that just about took me off the road.  No surprise… this is one of the wind surfing capitals of the world.  I couldn’t find a [affordable] hotel in Hood River, so crossed the Columbia to White Salmon, Washington.  I had forgotten how much I dislike crossing the Hood River Bridge.  It is a narrow bridge with a metal grate roadway that makes it very hard to steer a motorcycle.  And the high cross-winds make sure that you are swerving all over the place… not a good idea since the road is narrow with oncoming traffic.  I finally got to the other side in desperate need of alcoholic rejuvenation.  I found the White Salmon Inn, and had a pleasant evening.

The next morning I intended to ride to Seattle.  I still wanted to avoid Hwy 5, since it is a miserable stretch of freeway with too much traffic and nothing much of interest to see.  However, there is a back Forest Service road that goes over Mount Saint Helens.  This is closed in the winter, but was to have opened last night (June 2).  First thing in the morning I called the Forest Service to confirm that it had opened, and it had.  I couldn’t get any information on conditions since “nobody has been over it yet”.  Exuding confidence (if not good sense), I set out to be at least one of the first.  I evidently was a pioneer, because I only saw two other cars on the whole road.

The road itself was in generally good condition, although it was wet, and the weather was foggy, and drizzling.  And it was also COLD.  After about a half hour I had to pull over and put on my electric jacket and gloves.  In fact, this was a good time to make sure they worked before hitting Alaska.  I also hit snow on the side of the road, something I don’t get too much of in Panama. 

The other minor inconvenience that Mt. Saint Helens can offer is lava… it is an active volcano and last had a major eruption in [I think] 1986.  There are “Evacuation Route” signs all over the place, but I’m not sure how El Pinguino would do trying to outrun a lava flow.  Fortunately this morning the mountain was quiet and I was able to descend unencumbered by a layer of soot or stone.  After Mt. Saint Helens the road to Seattle was a case of déjà vu, as I had ridden these roads a lot when we lived in Seattle.  Finally I arrived in Seattle and the house of my good friends Don and Deeann Smith.

The next day was the Fourth of July, and Don had the day off.  So what to do?  GO RIDING, of course.  Don and I have ridden all over the Northwest, so it was great to have a day together.  Fortunately, the weather was spectacular as only it can be in the Northwest (when it’s not raining).  We took off to the east and made our way through the rural roads to every bar that we could find.

It really became obvious that this is Harley Davidson country

There were also numerous reminders that bikers in this neighborhood really do control the bars, as the exquisite piece of sculpture on the roof in back of Don attests. 

On the way back we passed an area where they were doing parasailing.  This sport consists of jumping off a mountain with a piece of cloth strapped to your back and pretending you can fly.  In fact, I had done this off of the cliffs in Lima, Peru, three years ago.  I still have the pair of browned skivvy shorts that I wore as a souvenir, but I certainly had no desire to try it again.  Been there, done that, crossed it off the Bucket List.

I spent the rest of the week in Seattle visiting friends, doing errands, and generally hanging out.  On July 7 I was scheduled to catch the Alaska State Ferry from Bellingham (about 1 ½ hours north of Seattle) to Haines, Alaska.  This is a 2 ½ day trip through the Inside Passage of British Columbia and Alaska.  In 2001 I rode to Alaska through BC and the Yukon, so I didn’t feel the need to ride this particular road again.  Also for this reason, I didn’t feel like I was “cheating” in my Circle-to-Circle ride.

Don decided to ride to Bellingham with me (and it was a damned good thing he did), and we decided to take the scenic route.  Just north of Marysville we turned off Highway 5 to take the back roads.  At the top of the freeway offramp we stopped at the light, and when the light turned green and I gave it gas… the bike didn’t move.  Tried shifting again… nothing.  I thought there might be a clutch problem and pushed the bike to the side of the road.  While I was standing there scratching my head and contemplating my navel a woman came along in a car to inform me that my drive chain was still on the offramp!  “[Expletive]”, I said to myself, parking the bike and running back to retrieve it.  Then I rolled the bike down the hill to the parking lot of a gas station to figure out what to do.

On inspection, the master link of the chain had broken.  Since I carry a spare, this should not have been a major problem but it also appeared that the next link had gotten bent and wasn’t moving freely.  This I didn’t like and decided a new chain was the more prudent route to take.  We called the Honda dealer in the next town, they had a chain in stock, and Don went up the road to get it while I prepared to make the change. After an hour Don was back with the chain, I made the change, and off we rode.

I do have to say that this made me just a bit nervous, not because it’s difficult to change the chain (I’ve done it many times) but because if I was late for the ferry I would have to wait a week for the next one, and then wouldn’t be able to get a cabin.  But it all worked out… quick chain change and all.  We even had time for a couple of tacos and beers in Bellingham before parting at the ferry dock.

And then I was ready for the next stage of the adventure: 

It took about three hours to load the boat (the MV Kennicott), but then we were off:  

NORTH TO ALASKA  

To Be or Not To Be: Ashland to Seattle

June 30 - July 2

I spent three days in Ashland, Oregon, mostly at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.  This is an incredible theater festival that has been going on for 75 years.  While I love working on our little theater with the Ancon Theatre Guild, it’s amazing watching the big time productions. However, like any entertainment, some I liked and others not so much.

I managed to see three plays at the OSF, and one community theater production in a nearby town.  At the OSF I saw a play called Medea/MacBeth/Cinderella which combined all three plays simultaneously.  While I really appreciated the production value and acting, I found the combination extremely hard to follow and very confusing.  Most comments I heard agreed.  I also saw an adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Merry Wives of Windsor”, set in Windsor, Iowa.  I’ve basically come to the conclusion that most of The Bard’s comedies are purile, which makes sense given the “lower classes” that they were intended for.  I found this production silly to the point of ridiculous.

One night I went to the next town, Talent, and saw “1776”, a musical about the Congress’ discussion over American independence.  I hadn’t realized that this play got the Tony for best musical in 1969, beating out “Hair”.  Obviously a political decision, given the mood of the country at the time.  In any event, despite having to ride through the rain to get to the theater, the play was extremely well done.  I was also very jealous of the new theater that the local community theater group had built.

But the highlight of my time in Ashland was a play called “White Snake”, based around an old Chinese legend.  While it was incredible in all aspects (acting, staging, sets, music), the fact that the writer/director had actually written it while already in rehearsals made it even more extraordinary.  Evidently this is her style, and she doesn’t develop the dialog until she sees how the actors are doing, then develops it to incorporate their personalities.

I also got to take a backstage tour of the OSF theaters.  This was sold out, but when I explained my interest and involvement in the theater in Panama they were kind enough to fit me in.  It was an interesting couple of hours seeing how the “big boys” stage a production.

Heading Inland... and Avoiding the RVs !

June 28

I had originally been planning on riding up the Pacific Coast to Seattle, but frankly I’ve had it with the traffic.  In Fort Bragg a bartender at the brew pub (always a great source of tourist information) had suggested a road through the mountains to me that was guaranteed “spectacular and with almost no traffic”.  Fortunately, he was right.  

I got some spectacular views of Mt. Shasta 

As well as of the Trinity River

On the way I also spent a night in Weaverville, an interesting old gold mining town.

One incredible stretch of road in Northern California is known as the Avenue of the Giants.

It is 32 miles through the giant redwood forests.  Really worth getting off the highway. 

Just before leaving California I hit another milestone:  I’ve ridden seven thousand miles on this trip.  And to think I’m not even half done! 

I ended the day in Ashland, Oregon, where I plan on spending a few days immersed in the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and other theatrical pursuits.

 

San Francisco Here I Come…Right Back Where I Started From

June 23

From Santa Cruz I headed up to the San Francisco Bay area.  Just north of SF I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge.  No matter how long I have been away (and it's been since 1984), it always feels like I’m going home when I cross this bridge. 

I lived more than 20 years in the Bay Area, starting with going to college at Berkeley.  For eight of those years I lived in Sausalito (Marin County) just north of the golden Gate Bridge.  I made a quick stop in Sausalito to visit the houseboat that I had owned, and it was still there.  The only difference was that the prices had gone up so much (in the 80s it was a rather economical way of life) that I doubt that I could afford it today.  But, oh to dream (and to remember)! 

From there it was across the San Rafael – Richmond Bridge to stay with my friend Flory in Richmond.  We’ve been friends for more than thirty years, and coincidently she lives about 10 minutes away from my daughter Kim (who lives on a sailboat at Point Richmond), so it was really convenient… as well as really nice to catch up.

I spent the next two days visiting with Flory, her daughter Justine, and her boyfriend Les and with Kim, her husband Brad, and my new grandson Henry. 

Henry is three months old, and while we didn’t have a lot of deep conversations we certainly made a connection! 

After a couple of days in the Bay Area, it was back on the road… still heading north.  The Sonoma and Mendocino coastlines are really spectacular.  There were wildflowers everywhere (and, dammit… hayfever!) and spectacular views. 

June 25 - 28

I have been feeling really guilty about writing this blog… or more realistically not writing it.  I’m more than a month behind and I keep getting “where is Steve” memos from friends, family, and fans (OK, from friends and family).  I guess I need to at least get the blog out of Mexico.

I decided to hole up for a few days and begin to catch up, but I had a few requirements for my writing retreat:  I wanted an ocean view, a balcony or patio, a fireplace, and a jacuzzi.  Not too much to ask for, right?  Anyway, I found the place (and busted my budget) in Fort Bragg and stayed for three nights.  Just to make it interesting, there was also a great brew pub, some good restaurants, and a coffee house with live music nightly.  I’m still a month behind, but I’m getting there! 

Please let me know that someone is actually reading this !!!!

North to the Bay: Fish and Friends

June 22

This morning I visited the Monterey Aquarium.  This place is absolutely amazing… one of the best I have ever seen.  I thought the $35 entrance fee was a bit steep for an aquarium, but it was totally worth it.

The jellyfish display was the most interesting I have seen since diving in Jellyfish Lake in Pulau (Micronesia).  In Jellyfish Lake the  critters have been without natural predators for so long that they have lost their sting, so we could swim through clouds of them.  I don’t think the same can be said for the aquarium’s collection.  Best not to touch, but these things are poetry in motion. 

The sea dragons (a kind of sea horse) are among the strangest critters in the sea.  I’ve never seen one in the wild, but they are fascinating. 

My next stop was Santa Cruz, where I visited our friend Claire Sears and stayed with her son John.  We had a nice dinner on the pier and evidently I influenced John to get his old motorcycle back in shape and on the road.  Never too many bikers!

North from Los Angeles, and a visit to the “Ranch House”

June 21

I had a nice week in Los Angeles staying with my sister and brother-in-law (thanks, guys) and visiting family.  I was glad I had rushed through Baja California a bit to get to LA before my mother and her boyfriend Jerry left for a trip to Italy. 

I spent one day with Mom and Jerry visiting the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley.  Although I’m not of the Reaganish persuasion (remember… I went to Berkeley in the 60s.  Enough said), it really is an interesting and well done museum.  Lot’s of displays about the cold war, an Air Force One, and I even got an opportunity to make a speech… undoubtedly to the Republican Convention.  Imagine what I told them.  However, Nancy and Babs (to my right) seemed appreciative)

The rest of the week was spent visiting, running errands, and doing maintenance work on the bike.  I had ordered a number of parts to replace stuff that broken on the trip and so was able to get it all installed.

On June 19 I was ready to get on the road again.  The Call of the Wild, and all that stuff, so I headed north.  While I expect this part of the trip will be very different (they speak English, right?) I’m looking forward to it.  I’m from California, but I don’t think I’ve traveled up the California coast in about thirty years so it will be very different to do it as a tourist.

First stop was Solvang, just north of Santa Barbara, where I stayed with Patty and Dan Simon.  Patty was a good friend in high school who I hadn’t seen in forty years when we met up at our 40^th high school reunion in 2006.  I had promised to bring some Cuban cigars (smuggled TWICE across the US border!) which we enjoyed with much single malt Scotch on the deck of their gorgeous property in the Santa Ynez Valley wine country. 

Then (June 21) it was up to San Simeon and Hearst Castle.   This was William Randolph Hearst’s  “ranch house”, Despite the early morning fog, it was a fascinating place and it gave me some great ideas for future projects at our cabin in Cerro Azul.  

I really like this fireplace, and may do something like this on the patio.  I've been searching the base of Ancon Hill for the right marble to use.

I also got some great ideas for the new pool that we’re planning.   Don't you think this would fit in well at the cabin?

Just north of San Simeon there is a beach where elephant seals come to mate and raise their young.  If you’ve never seen elephant seals, they are quite something.  The adult males get up to 4000 pounds.  The females weigh in at a svelte 2000 lb. 

The males, jealous buggers that they are, tend to fight a lot for the right to a (ok, many) female and this is not something you want to get in the way of.  However, it is really interesting to watch.  The males start practicing this fighting when they are adolescents… just like humans do in high school.   Only we call it football.

The females raise the babies until they are toddlers (at about 400 pounds) then they all take off into the sea until the next year…  breed – rinse – repeat.

From here I continued up the coast.  I had forgotten how beautiful the California coast is.  It’s also a pain in the ass to drive, as it is all curves generally full of tourists from Iowa driving (to the minimal extent that they are capable) rented RVs at about 12 miles an hour.  Highly frustrating!

It is, however, good for the merchants. At one point (obviously the only gas for miles) they were happy to charge any hapless tourist who hadn’t filled up in time a whopping almost seven dollars a gallon for fuel!  Take that, you damn tourists!  Oh yeah, and thanks for visiting J 

Finally I arrived in Monterey, where I spent the night.  I ran into a couple of Harley riders that I had met in San Simeon and we had a fun night on Cannery Row listening to music, drinking beer, and talking politics (OK, I lied about the talking politics being fun).

On and On to the US... and El Pinguino Turns Forty Thousand

June 8 to 11

I left Palapas Ventana and headed north. Riding through this part of Baja California is BORING. Lots of straight flat roads, sagebrush, and cactus. 

At this point, because of timing and the fact that there really isn’t anything of real interest in this part of Baja (at least not at this time of year) I was just trying to crank out the miles to get to the US.

We did have a celebration along the way, however. My trusty steed, El Pinguino, turned forty thousand… miles, that is. 

Of course, we pulled over to celebrate. I toasted his longevity and perseverance with a libation of water, and annointed El Pintguino’s windshield in honor of the occasion, and we both contemplated what the hell we were doing out herein the middle of the desert in 110 degree heat. We came to the conclusion that we were there because I am completely mad, but since we couldn’t do anything to change that on we went to spend the night in Loreto. 

The next day (June 9) I continued north in the 100+ heat, at least until I started approaching Guerrero Negro. At this point the road curves in towards the Pacific, just above Scanlon’s Lagoon, which is famous for the grey whales that breed there in the winter. Suddenly I hit a cold front, and I mean it was like suddenly walking into a freezer. Within ten minutes (and this is accurate… I measured) the temperature dropped from 105 degrees to 74 degrees! All of a sudden I went from sweating to freezing my buns off.

After a night in Guerrero Negro I had another cold day of riding to Ensenada, where I spent the night in a motel “with options”: That is, the option of paying for a room for two hours or all night! No… no other options were available! I opted to pay for the entire night, and in the morning headed for Tijuana and the US border.

June 11 - Into the US- The line in Tijuana to cross the border into the US was about three hours long (as I was informed by someone sitting in a car as he shot visual daggers in my direction). Fortunately, bikes aren’t restricted by such mundane restriction as lines. Rather, we take advantage of helpful little things like breaks in barriers, sidewalks, grass, and any little gap between cars. Using all these I managed to find myself within about two vehicles of the US border in about 20 minutes. Wonderful… except for the fact that I had never completed the paperwork to exit Mexico! This might not be a problem for most day-trippers to Tijuana, but I had paid a $300 deposit when I entered Mexico from Belize to assure that I would take my bike back out of the country and I had to visit Mexican customs to make sure I would get my money back. However, there’s no going backwards in the never-ending surge of vehicles to the US border! When I asked the US customs agent what I could do, he said “get on the 805 freeway, make a U turn a couple of miles up the road, and go back to Mexico”. Not my preferred solution, but that’s what I did.

After re-entering Mexico I found the right office to get my documents cleared (not, by the way, right at the border), canceled my temporary import permit, and went back through the maze to the US, where they checked my passport again and declared me a non-terrorist allowed to enter my own country.

Now I was driving in the US, and I have to say it frightened the hell out of me much more than central America or Mexico. I can deal with traffic and curvy roads, but who came up with this idea of 12 lanes of cars going 70 miles an hour until they all create a traffic jam and stop at the same time! This shit is scary! No wonder there’s road rage.

But I survived, and made it as far as La Jolla, to spend the night with one of my oldest friends, Fred Steiniger and his wife Laura. Fortunately, they had an adequate liquor supply, of which I was in desperate need and we had a nice visit until Fred had to leave to take care of a family emergency in Tucson.

I spent the day getting new tires for El Pinguino (the 3^rdset this trip), and headed up the road a bit to Carlsbad to spend a very nice night with our niece Audrey and her boyfriend Justin.

On the 13^th I headed up to Los Angeles for a week of visiting my family.

Baja: La Paz and Palapas Ventana

June 7

My brief foray into La Paz convinced me that I had absolutely no desire to stay there.  It’s a big city (by Baja standards) with virtually no charm.  I checked out one hostel that had gotten good ratings, and there was no one there.  “Time to move on” I says to meself!

One of the things I wanted to do in Baja was to check out some places for a future trip of whale watching.  Baja California is where the grey whales go in the winter to mate and have their babies.  I heard about an area called El Sargento on the Sea of Cortez, so headed over there.  I ended up staying at a great little resort called Palapas Ventana, which has cabins overlooking the beach, kite boarding, stand-up paddle boards, and scuba diving.  They also have whale sharks on the Sea of Cortez side and do paddle boarding trips to see grey whales on the Pacific side in February.  I think this is definitely a place to return to.  Not only that, but they make GREAT margaritas, and the cook made me chile relleno filled with red snapper and mango that was to die for.  A definite keeper! 

Over the Devil’s Spine to Mazatlan and the Ferry to La Paz

 June 5 - 7

 Leaving Zacatecas I had to make a choice:  Do I go to Durango and spend the night or try to make it all the way to Mazatlan in one day?  This was Tuesday and I had a reservation on the ferry from Mazatlan to La Paz (Baja California) for Friday.  On the other hand, I kind of wanted to get to Los Angeles before my mother was leaving for Italy, so I had an incentive to move the schedule up a few days.  I called the ferry company and was told there would be no problem getting on the boat on Wednesday (the ferry only runs Monday, Wednesday, and Friday) so I decided I would make it a long day of riding and would try to get to Mazatlan (about 400 miles) in one day.

The stretch from Zacatecas to Durango was not a problem.  It took a while to get out of Zacatecas and its suburbs, but then I took the toll road part of the way to Durango.  I don’t normally take the toll roads;  not only are they expensive, but they are boring.  They bypass all the towns and interesting sights.  But I was in a hurry and had a lot of riding ahead of me.

In Durango I stopped for gas and coffee and had the only uncomfortable experience of the entire trip.  I’m often asked if I have any problem with “bandidos” or other unsavory characters, and fortunately I have not.  I talk to a lot of people and generally they are just curious about the trip.  But while I was talking to a couple of guys in the coffee shop I just felt that they were being a little too curious about me and my plans.  It is very possible that this was entirely my imagination, but I just didn’t feel comfortable with their questions.  So I did what anyone would do:  I lied like hell, told them I was staying in Durango, and got out of Dodge (or Durango, as the case may be).  Like I said, this might have been all in my imagination but why take a chance?

From Durango there was a bit more toll road to get out of town, but then it ended. They are building a beautiful new highway from Durango to Mazatlan that consists of something like 34 bridges and 38 tunnels (or vice versa) with a four lane road that will cut the drive down from about 5 hours to 2 1/2, but it isn’t finished yet.  Damn!

The current road is called “La Espina del Diablo”, or “the devil’s spine”.  It is appropriately named.  This is one curvy SOB of a road.  The altitude ranges from about 6000 feet above sea level to over 9000 feet.  It is all sharp curves, with sheer drops that go down (or at least seem to) the entire 6000 feet.  Oh, and did I mention the guard rails?  No?  Probably because there aren’t any.  Anyway, they would only slow down the double trailer trucks that are zooming around the blind corners.  As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not particularly fond of heights, so this was not my ideal day of riding. Fortunately this portion only went tortured me for about 150 miles.   

I did, however, have one unique experience on the road:  I actually ran into (not literally) another traveling motorcyclist.  This has been a strange trip in that regard.  In South America I was always running into other bikers.  On this trip, in more than two months I have not seen even one!  But today I passed someone on a bike going the other way, fortunately on a straight stretch of road.  We flagged each other down and stopped at a little roadside kiosk for a couple of tacos, and went off in our separate directions.

After 10 hours in the saddle I finally arrived in Mazatlan.  I checked into the Hotel Belmar, right on the water.  Now this place was probably lovely when it was built, but it was in desperate need of renovation… in 1980!  By now it is a POS, although with a great view and location.   However I did manage to find a massage, which was desperately needed after the days ride.

I hadn’t been to Mazatlan in 29 years and seven months.  I know the time, because Karen and I had our honeymoon there.  I certainly didn’t have as much fun this time!  However, the old part of the city has improved:  They’ve rebuilt the area around the plaza in downtown and there are lots of restaurants and trendy shops.  It’s a nice alternative to the high-rise hotels further north. 

On Wednesday morning I went to the ferry terminal to change my reservation, only to be told that there was nothing available that day.  But despite telling me that there were no seats and no rooms, the young lady at the counter kept typing into her computer.  OK, I thought, I don’t know what she’s doing but this is probably a good time to just keep my mouth shut and see what happens.  She just kept typing, and eventually said I had a ticket and a cabin for that afternoon!  I don’t know what she did (and I don’t care), but I copiously professed my undying love for her and left to get some minor things fixed on the bike while awaiting the afternoon departure.

The ferry itself was adequate.  It’s mostly trucks and truckers, with a few tourists thrown in for good luck.  The boat leaves at four in the afternoon and arrives at 9 the next morning, so having a cabin was muy importante.  The only other options were sitting up in the main cabin all night (if you had a reservation for a seat) or sitting in the cafeteria drinking a LOT of beer with the truckers. 

In either case, extremely loud TV programs were included at no additional cost.  The ferry ticket also included dinner and breakfast, which wasn’t too bad especially considering there was no other choice.  We finally arrived in La Paz, and I headed into the city about 20 miles from the port.

The End (of the alphabet, not the trip): Zacatecas

June 1 - 5

From Xilitla I headed towards Zacatecas.

My first stop was at Laguna Media Luna, where I had considered staying.  I had heard that this was an interesting place, and site for some good fresh water diving.  I had visions of a couple of days by the lake in my head.  Unfortunately, while it was pretty, it was basically a park where you could camp but otherwise there are no accommodations.  I had a swim and a beer, then was off to San Luis Potosi.

San Luis Potosi is another large city with a beautiful cathedral on the central square (are you seeing a pattern here... the Spaniards were nothing if not consistent).  For me it was just a stop for the night.  I had to keep moving, because there is a rumor that if you stand still in the central plaza for too long you will be bronzed and never able to leave, as happened to this gentleman.







On June 2 I arrived in Zacatecas.  This really is a beautiful colonial city, which also happens to have some of the most active street life that I have seen.  Everywhere you look there is some kind of street performance:  Clowns, bands, or singers.

The first "performance" I ran into, however, was a political demonstration protesting something or other that the government had done, was doing, or might do someday.  Just like at home!

The second performance was a bit more interesting:  I went on a tour of Zacatecan legends.  On the tour bus there were performers in costume both telling about the city and telling the "secret" legends of why things were as they were.  At the end we were all herded into an old monastery and more of the legends were acted out.  Definitely a unique perspective of the city, involving death, dismemberment, and the loss of virtue of a number of Zacatecans.

Zacatecas is built on several hills, and I think I walked them all.  On one hill is the Mina el Eden (Eden mine).  This was one of the most productive silver mines in Mexico.  After basically enslaving the local indigenous population (they were good at that) prodigeous amounts of silver were sent back to Spain.  While the tour of the mine was interesting, it was a bit of a Disneyland version of what a mine was like... complete with artificial miners.

From the top of the hill where the mine is located there is a telferico that goes to the city's other large hill: Cerro la Bufa.  The ride gives a spectacular view of the city and surrounding area.  At the top is (surprise !) another church and monastery.  Seeing a pattern here?

Unfortunately I was not feeling well in Zacatecas.  I haven't been having any problems up to this point, but I think that Montezuma was finally getting his revenge and while I felt like a king, it wasn't wise for me to stray too far from my throne. 

A comment about the convenience of the Mexican medical system:  I had brought some antibiotics with me for just this situation, but had used them up.  You can't buy antibiotics in Mexico without a prescription.  The convenience part is that attached to many pharmacies is a small medical office, staffed by an MD for most of the day and evening, and you can drop in for a consult for about US$2.50.  Now that's making things easy!

I stayed in Zacatecas a few days just to get myself feeling right, then it was off to Mazatlan.