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.
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