My motorcycle gang

A lot of people may think this blog has been abandoned forever. Not true. In fact, I feel the urge to upload peictures even though they're far from current.

These are from a scooter excursion my friend David arranged at school for teachers and students months ago, a nice little day trip to Rio Copalita and back.



It's hard to get everyone in one shot. Someone has to hold the camera.



Half of these pictures are courteous of Omar, the man in the front.


It must have been raining in the hills to make the water so brown. I've passed over that bridge in the background quite often and the water has been crystal clear. Lots of people head down there to cool off and relax without the need to worry about treacherous ocean currents.

The Road

Everything changes. Road work has begun to facilitate construction of a new hotel zone near Cacaluta. This means some of the directions to Playa Organo from the previous post ( http://alackofcleardirection.blogspot.com/2009/10/playa-organo-and-how-to-get-there.html ) are now out-dated. But those former landmarks were huge potholes. Just watch out for the topes. They are legion.


This is my new preferred entry way to the arroyo. I can drive the scooter right up to the last bushes before the beach. The arroyo can be soft and sandy so moving too fast is a guaranteed wipe-out. I’d also recommend keeping your feet well within the scooter. A bush left a clean gash across my right foot.
Scooters aren’t much fun when you have to push them home. My accelerator was stiff ever since the Puerto Escondido run. That’s why I didn’t make any big detours on the way home. I was afraid it would quit working entirely. But I continued to ride all around Huatulco. It was just a matter of getting used to the new feel. But Friday, on my way back from Organo, I didn’t get past the second dusty tope before the accelerator died. It was almost like running out of gas except that the engine continued to turn.


It could have been so much worse. That would have been tough pushing it through the soft arroyo. Or worse. I might have been stranded between here and Puerto Escondido. There are some very lonely stretches on that highway and, when you come across the occasional puebla, there is no guarantee there’s going to be a mechanic in town.
So I pushed it up a couple of hills and coasted down the other side. Eventually I made it to the mechanic but he was locked up until Monday. It wasn’t that much further home. The trip took the wind out of me. One and a half litres of water seems like plenty when you’re splashing at the beach but it goes pretty fast when you get home the hard way. I use old plastic bottles filled with frozen tap water for my cooler. I was so glad to have them for the trip, stopping every now and then to roll them all over my body. By the time I got home, they were mostly water again and I emptied them over myself and hit the couch for a hard nap.
It has been a hot week so I’ve been watching a lot of mainstream movies at the local cinema to enjoy the air conditioning. Life is short. Take warning . “The Book of Eli” is not worth your time unless you need to escape the heat. “Alice in Wonderland” has ten more minutes of cool and it must be spectacular in 3D. Sadly we only get 2D in Huatulco. Too bad they tried to give it a conventional story line so it resembles just about every other big budget children’s lit fantasy flick for the past 8 years. I give the air conditioner 5 stars, 4 for the special effects and 3 for the writing.

It seems to have been a day for breaking things. I smelled smoke when I returned. It wasn't too strong, like a piece of paper smouldering in an ashtray. My timing could have been worse but it could have been a whole lot better. I had started a pot of Jamaica and forgotten it immediately.

The Epic Beach Road Trip: Zipolite and San Augustillino

By Semana Santa Monday, I felt like doing a little exploring and hit the road for Puerto Escondido and points along the way.

I handled the road with caution, pulling over every time I spotted someone in my mirror. There's nothing I can do about it on a stretch of sharp hard turns and that's usually when the impatient motorist shows up. It takes a maximum wait of two minutes to get through most of these patches but one guy just had to pass me on a sharp downhill blind turn. Usually these people aren't even going that much faster than I am. I have to put my brakes on to help them back in the lane on time. Madness.

First stop, Zipolite. Almost there. Uh-oh. Road obstruction. Looks like it came down completely on termite power.

Driving strategy: come to complete stop and check for oncoming traffic. Average vacationer strategy: pull out immediately and accelerate. I hope someone moved this out of harm's way before too long.

It was early enough that Zipolite didn't feel too crowded but that can change in the blink of an eye on Semana Santa. One minute I was the only customer at this beachside restaurant, enjoying a second breakfast, when, boom, 30 people descended on the panicked solo waitress all at once.

The yellow flags must have been left over from the day before because I didn't feel good about that water. It was too rough for my my boogie board but I needed to get wet. I splashed around in strong sandy waves near the shore for a bit and moved on.

Next stop, beautiful San Augustillino where the water was calmer but still rather high. I was content with another refreshing dip. Got some of the sand out of my ears this time


And onwards.

A Quiet Morning in Zicatela

I woke at dawn next day. Lots of time to walk around Puerto Escondido and take that road home slowly. So here are some pretty pictures of this beach paradise.



Two beaches from one vantage point.

Playa Principal

Playa Zicatela


One more hearty breakfast at Cafecitos

I took a break on the way back with a little detour at Zipolite to catch some waves. That little delay ensured I got caught in the rain. It started coming down as soon as I hit the highway. My instinct said that road was slick and I refused to take any sharp turns at more than 30 kmh. Other vehicles were more considerate than ususal and didn't tailgate or try passing on the blind turns. I pulled over whenever possible to clear the way but there were never many people behind me. After such a terrific weekend, my biggest priority was to get home alive. I didn't care if it was going to take an extra 2 hours.


Not everyone made the trip intact. I was almost home again, about half a kilometer from UMAR, when I came across a road block with grim faced policemen slowing everyone down to 20. Way down over the bank lay a pickup truck. Looked like the kind that might not have seat belts. It was quite a drop. Probably broke the driver's neck. Either he went around a curve too fast or someone slid into his lane and he took the fall to avoid the crash. Same result as far as he was concerned.
It's good to be alive. Drive safely

Curiosity

Between Crucecita and the airport I've noticed some intriguing signs that have kept me wondering. Two Sundays ago, having woken up too late to do anything major, I headed out to find what these places had to offer.

The first was El Faisan. With a sign and a driveway with giant metal "2"s, there was bound to be something of note.

The driveway led to this wall. The moment of truth.

Aw shucks, it seems to be one of those car hotels. I'm not even sure what these places are. You get a walled parking spot with a curtain. I think you just sleep in your own car. Maybe there's a garden hose to wash your vehicle down.
It wasn't a happening spot. No customers. I heard the distant bark of a dog and two women chattering but I didn't see a soul.




There was this massive wreck of a transport truck on the way out of the horseshoe driveway as a reminder to watch everything in front as I continued down the highway. Huatulco is more laid back than Cancun but it's still a party/vacation town and there are a lot of people driving that shouldn't be. We had a fatality around the ADO intersection this week. The previous week, I saw windshield glass spread all over the Pemex intersection on two different mornings. The traffic cop started hanging around there for a while after that. His presence alone makes a huge difference on people's recall of basic driving rules but he can't be everywhere.

Onward. Next stop: Piedra del Moros. This was more promising as there was an actual tourism sign recommending a visit. Mike told me it was a giant rock. Well, on a slow Sunday, a giant rock might be just the thing.


According to the sign, Piedra del Moros is only 5 kilometres off the highway on the same road leading up the mountain to all the cascadas. You pass through several peaceful pueblas on this road. None of them announced their names by signs so watch your odometer and maybe you won't pass it by like I did. That tourism sign on the highway is the last one you're going to see. You have to stop at the right village and ask directions. I realized I'd gone too far after 10 km. Beautiful countryside. Lots of people walking on the road and children playing. I went nice and slow.





There are lots of side roads but I seemed to be having good luck with instinct because I'd find myself in another puebla offering information on the cascadas. Eventually I started climbing the mountain. I could have reached the cascadas before nightfall easily enough but I wasn't prepared to spend the night up there and I turned back after a considerable twisty climb. The road was nowhere near as bad as I'd been told and I know the Italika could make it no problem. As for gas, it's really a one way trip. Downhill is a matter of keeping your hands on the brakes at all times. I'd like to take that trip early some day, check out all the different waterfalls and instead of returning the same way, continue on that road and make the loop back down to the coast somewhere near Barra de la Cruz.


Remember to take your hand off the gas and let momentum carry you across these streams or you might wipe out. For Canadians, the experience is not unlike wet black ice covered with a dusting of powdery snow. The underwater moss is incredibly slick.
I checked the internet at work next day to see if there really is something to see at Piedra del Moros and found somebody's travel blog. Like me, they passed right on by it the first time but they persevered. It really is a large igneous rock.

All that serene countryside washed away the grim reminder from the demolished transport truck and I found myself taking a sharp curve too quickly on the way home. I slowed right down, even with a pushy truck crowding my tail and I had a moment when I really didn't think I was going to make it. The bike wanted to drift right off the road. I was right on the edge, feeling grateful there was no one riding with me, when the danger passed.

I still don't have a helmet yet. The plan so far has simply been not to get in an accident. But I bet that woman who died on Monday and that girl who showed up a month late for school in a neck brace and Michelle when she was rammed off her bicycle by a taxi driver months ago, all had the same plan. It isn't foolproof.

If this brilliant plan backfires before I buy a helmet, Mike already has dibs on my office coffee machine and I suppose he should get the Sony stereo as well. There it is, on the internet, surely as legally binding as a will.

Happy Halloween everybody. Drive safely.

Scary Carretera to Zipolite

A good night sleep makes all the difference between a great or mediocre day so all weekend plans are dependent on when my eyes open without the insistent nagging from the voice alarm woman. A late morning just means smaller activities. Last Sunday I woke comfortably before dawn. The night before I’d thought about running the scooter down to Zipolite with my boogie board and the idea still sounded good so I ate quickly and got out the door just as it was turning light.
I’d had a terrifying ride on that road before, on a day trip to San Augustin, and I was counting on the early hour to cut down the traffic this time. It worked. Anyone wanting to make a run from Crucecita to Zipolite or Mazunte, all you have to do is get out early. Once you pass the airport, things are saner any time of day.
The entire trip took about an hour and 15 minutes with 3 stops to let the engine cool.
This was my first stop. I heard what sounded like the rumble of thunder but kept going. It could have been anything.

Zipolite has a new park area with a beach style gazebo.

The place was deserted.

Just a couple of cool dogs near Lola’s.

The water was high and rough for my cautious tastes. I wonder if that isn’t a seasonal thing. I made a beeline for this beach last year at this time when I returned from Korea and it was the same.
It’s been a while since I played in the waves and I was out there long enough to get a good burn on my back. Idiot. Even water proof sun screen needs frequent applications in the Pacific Ocean. A lifelong burner should be able tor emember that.
A big wave sweeping up to the restaurants with a current that insistently pulled me towards some rocks was my signal to pack it in. That much wave play gives a boy an appetite and I almost swallowed a substantial meal whole at Shambhala. The rumbling I’d heard earlier had been thunder. Clouds over the mountains were looking serious. It was time to go. I still don’t have a helmet and rain drops have a nasty slap when the scooter's in motion.
My muffler had come apart and the bike blatted so loud it wasn’t worth trying to listen to the MP3 player. At least there was plenty of warning of my approach at tight bends for any children chasing balls on to the road. I got caught in some rain but raced away from it and kept those clouds behind me. No coffee breaks for the machine this time. I made it home alive with an hour to spare before sundown.
I had such a great day and that was all on less than one tank of gas. I went to fill it on Monday, figuring it had to be as dry as William Burroughs, but I could have run it back and forth to UMAR all week.

Spazz

The days of feeling timid on the scooter seem to be behind me. I have no illusions of being a great rider but, after a couple of- no wait, three- make that four- near disasters, I'm easing off on the throttle a tad. Even people who don't wear helmets themselves have been asking when I'm going to get one. The speedometer needle never reaches past 95 but another teacher, who tried and failed to pass me in her car on the way to work one morning, informed me I'd been doing well over 100. She also advised me to get a helmet and has been reminding me daily ever since.

I do a lot of joy-riding, just tearing along the roads with no particular destination. After splashing around La Bocana one Sunday with Will and Jasmine, I rode around for hours, checking out every little side road. Most of these exist just for scenic lookout points and are well worth the detour. I was going too fast after the steep hill between Entrega and Organo and completely forgot about the ginormous potholes. I hit a crater so hard the bike came to a hard stop. I shook and rattled a bit but I wasn't hurt and neither was the bike. If I'd been on the ten speed, I'd have been over the handle bars and spreading my skin across the asphalt.

My biggest daymares have always been about taking down an innocent bystander. That could have come true coming home around dusk last week. Between UMAR and town, is a split highway with 3 lanes each direction, perfect for ripping along like a rocket. I like to hang my mouth open and let the wind puff out my cheeks with tears pouring across my face. Fun. The only drawback is that the ride is over before Rancid can even finish playing "Some People Like Poison" and it's always way too soon to pull into the apartment block and park. Anyway, I was further to the right than necessary and I didn't notice this cyclist until I was much closer than I should have been. I probably wouldn't have clipped him but it was a solid wakeup call. I like to give cyclists lots more space than he had.

You know you're not a great driver when you almost plow yourself into the back of a parked bus. I was doing the max (maybe 110). I glanced in my mirror to double-check before changing lanes. Yep. Coast was clear. Whoa Nelly! In that quick glance, I'd covered a shocking amount of ground. I was right on top of that bus. I am a bad bad driver.

Worse than the mega-pothole was the big fat wasp that slapped my face and planted a stinger just below my eye at 80 kmh. I managed not to spazz completely and pulled over to the side. I peeled it off my face and its legs were still kicking. Ow. Ow. Ow. I felt like I'd been punched hard but I knew I could still punch the clock on time so I revved up again with a primal scream of frustration and pain that could be heard over the motor.

I had a sense of deja vu. It's been almost a year since the bicycle accident in Korea. Again I was heading to work with a swollen left eye. The damage wasn't as bad as I feared. I punched in and knocked on the medico's door. He gave me a prescription for anti-inflammatories or something. I don't know. By about 2 in the afternoon, it stopped hurting every time I smiled so I just put some ice on it when I got home.

I've been wanting to change apartments for a while now. I've never been quite content with the place but laziness and apathy have me kept me where I am. On days when I should be on the hunt for new digs, I tell myself that the place isn't so bad, in spite of the stupid carpet, the ugly peeling paint from the ceiling leak that took a month for the landlord to fix (the paint and paster may never be replaced), the non-working air conditioner, the toxic moldy cupboard, the ugly furniture. At least it's livable. But it keeps deteriorating and the owners never bother to do anything. This might have gone on indefinitely if it hadn't been for the blackout.

One night the power went out in several buildings for a few hours. Eventually it came back for everyone but me. Even the people above me had it but I went to sleep without a fan.

William thought I might not have paid my power bill. They don't wait too long down here. But I hadn't received a bill. No matter. Sometimes they get lost. OK. I went down to the power company (CFE)on my lunch break. They told me I hadn't been cut off and that the bills hadn't been sent out. I ended up paying a week early. I thought I understood the bulk of what the lady told me but I got Mike and Rowena on the phone to talk to her. When the power went out, the big fuses had had probably blown on the power box. Mike came right over to the apartment and I followed him through downtown traffic to a hardware store.

The first time we were separated in traffic, I was behind a young guy with an identical scooter to my own who said he'd had his for over a year without a single problem. Yay.

Mike installed the new fuses. No luck. A neighbor came by to help. Same result. I called the Residencial Chahue administrator. They would send someone over right. away. Eventually we had to go back to work and nobody had arrived. I stopped at the administrative office to ask about the holdup and the secretary promised me "Una hora mas". That was ominous. The last time I had a promise like that from these people, it was a week later before I saw any action. This time was no different. I was without power for a full six days and nights. A lot of food turned ripe and dangerous. I could rail on but you get the picture.

Some friends have said they liked the old dump and diudn't mind the nasty old carpet but they have never had to wake up to the place. What seems rustic and charming with a few drinks under the belt is just rotten and dirty when you smell it in the morning. The good times some of us have shared there had nothing to do with the locale and everything to do with the company. I know I won't feel sentimental about the mold.



Anyhow, I have a beautiful new apartment to move into tomorrow. It's clean and well maintained and basically the same price as the old one. It's going to be great.