Death Race 2009

"Don't look back 'cause something might be gaining on you."
(Satchel Paige)

Here it is, my new machine. I couldn't stand being without a camera any longer. Between this new Olympus (waterproof) and my scooter, the bonus money is gone. So what. I don't need it down here. Certainly not for cab fares.
One of my biggest fears when I bought this machine was that it would make me fat and lazy. My first night out, cruising slowly through a residential area, I felt a bit like a retired guy on a golf cart. It will only be a problem if I let it. So far I've been pedalling all day today. I have promised myself to pedal my way to work next week, just like before, but I know the temptation to burn gas over calories is going to be strong, especially in the afternoon when I soak my clothes with sweat. Meanwhile, other teachers whizz on by, feeling only their own cool refreshing breeze.

Two days ago, I had the scariest ride yet. My legs were vibrating from residual terror when I finally got off. Riding around Huatulco, even way out to Rio Copalita/La Bocana, is rather serene. No one seems to go too fast and if anyone feels the need for speed, it's all a curvaceous double-laned split highway. The other direction, towards the airport, is a different story. One narrow lane each direction, nowhere to pull over, lots of sharp blind turns and tons of traffic in a godawful hurry.

This was my biggest journey on the scooter yet, all the way to San Augustin. I'd been warned that the road off the highway was more than a little rugged. It certainly lived up to the hype but it was the 2 lane highway before the turnoff that took some years off my life. As soon as I passed UMAR, I was in a different world. All that traffic tailgating me and I was going as fast as possible to appease them all so they didn't get so antsy they tried passing on a turn. According to the signs, I was speeding. No one should be taking a "curvas pelligrosa" faster than 40kmh but I had to do a few at 50 although the signs said 30. I had to refuse to do the 50 trick after a few dangerous sweeps into the oncoming lane. Some of the oncomers were drifting my way as well. 40 became my absolute limit.

Given any choice, I would have gladly pulled over or pulled right around but there was no choice. I was on that road until at least the airport, my face tight and grim. After miles of turns there finally came a straight away and the speed limit jumped to 80. I didn't have the nerve for it by that time. I managed 73. Best that I could do. There were still potholes to look out for. It had been several kilometres back since I'd last looked in my mirrors. I didn't want to know. People started passing me and each other in both directions. I don't relate.

The speed zone only lasted for the lenght of one valley. At the peak, I saw the sign dropping us straight back down to thirty. Most were going too fast to see it. Right up ahead was the entrance to the airport. Lights flashed from federales cars and a lot of vehicles were pulled over. Thinking this was like an army checkpoint, I pulled over too. They were surprised to see me. The rest were there by special invitation. I asked, in Ed-Spanish, how much further to the turnoff. Not far. Less than a minute ahead. I could have made it to the Pochutla exit no problem. Another day.

The off road to San Augustin was just as primitive as promised. A heavy rain just the night before had washed away half the road at places. But I didn't mind. I could bump along all those hazards at my own speed with no one to hustle me along. And I learned what my bike could and couldn't do. it goes completely wacky in the mud. There was a wet river crossing. Washboard concrete carried you across a stream under two inches of water. fine. The trick is to rev a bit before getting on and let momentum carry you over. That concrete is covered in old slime and you might end up in the river if you give it some gas. Just a word of warning in case you ever pass that way.

Test drives

I believe I have the brake/accelerator on the new scooter completely straight now so no more little accidents. I had it parked on the sidewalk in Tangolunda surrounded by 6 inch curbs. It was easy rolling it down the curb. I just gave it a touch of gas and it was up and over but I wasn't sitting on it and it dragged me ahead, my hand tightening on the gas. It could have been a lot worse. I smashed into a wire mesh fence. Not an expensive car or a small child. It pulled free and I was out of there before anyone caught on that I had no business on any motorized vehicle. There wasn't even a scratch on the bike and my sore knuckles felt fine after a day.

I'm missing the camera every day.

I finally made it La Bocana/Rio Copalita on the bike. Fantastic. There is surf. It starts with a small cove. You might not have to climb some hazardous rocks at low tide but I had to to reach the beach beyond and the river. There were a few steps I didn't want to make but a pack of surfers had just passed carrying their boards so I figured I was just being a big chicken. I made it.

There's no way to cross the river as it pours into the Pacific without swimming. I'll save that for another day. A young lady warned me to swim diagonally. If I ended up in the ocean, there was a whirlpool waiting at the end. Some people struggled to land on the other side. Their friends extended helping hands. The surfers didn't seem to have any problems. They cut right through the current on their boards.

On the other side, people swam in a calmer spread-out basin of the river. There must be 2 miles of beach on the other side and no way to reach it without swimming the river so without an air-tight floating bag everything has to be abandoned. I thought there had to be a road there but there isn't. I took the scooter back to the highway and drove far enough to realize I had left the beach area far far behind.

There was a long stretch of straight road and I had the needle up to 80 for the first time. That was almost too exciting It felt a lot faster and I might have been doing 100 because the needle is much slower than the bike. I eased off. A speed bump or pothole would have finished me. Did I mention I don't have a helmet yet? I'm going to get one. Soon. Sure, riding without one is cool, like smoking, but I'm more afraid of surviving with a massive head injury than dying.

What have I done?

It has been a very bad year for cameras. The latest Canon may come back to life after it dries out but I'm not counting on it. I took it into the water at Entrega on Sunday and the waterproof bag let me down. The camera strap might have snagged in the velcro, preventing a perfect seal or there might have been a pin prick hole. Either way, I can never trust that bag again. It cost me yet another camera. 

  I finally bought myself a scooter yesterday. We get bonuses at the end of the school year. That's where mine went.

 I hesitated about this for a long time. There is a very real danger that I won't get all the exercise I need. I need more exercise, not less. I've had a lot of daymares about this too, never having owned or operated motorized vehicles before, at least not in any significant way. I've thought of every worst case scenario. Like absent-mindedly confusing the gas with the brakes or running over a small child.

 I wasn't prepared to drive it home on my home so the salesman drove it for me. Two hours later, I knew it was time to get on that saddle and get the feel for it. Down the street, Asa's cats were waiting to be fed. The slightest touch on the gas and that bike jumps forward. This was going to take some practise. I made it safely down the street, fed the cats and moved along.

 Leaving the parking lot, I had my first little panic attack. Coming my way were two women with three small children. Quick. Think now. Brakes and gas. Which are which? It was fine. They never came close.

 Emboldened after navigating two major intersections, I drove down a main drag. Vroom. Gosh, how fast was I speeding along anyways? I had to check. Um, 20 kmh. It felt fast to me.

 The more I drove, the better it felt. I kept going. I cranked the Hives on my MP3 player. Rock 'n' roll. Better and better. At first, as a novice, I didn't fell entitled to pass anyone but this couple was just putting along. Eventually I left them behind at an intersection. I heard the Hives singing "Get out of my way...". I was going fifty!

 Not for long. It was quite a thrill. It's a 150 cc bike and Mike figures it can go 100 easily enough. Just this minute I heard a crash and looked over the Casa Mayor railing to see a small collision that has brought downtown traffic around the zocalo to a standstill. A big truck went into the back of a small car and the truck lost its front fender. Must have been taped on. The truck driver won't move and tour buses can't back up. Good reminder that it's okay to be paranoid in traffic. 

 I chose my routes carefully, avoiding certain places I didn't feel ready for and found myself in a residential labyrinth, trying to get home again while avoiding Chahue Boulevarde, in particular the corner with huge Pemex station. Found myself in a dead end with small children. I was cool. Turned around slowly. First stop sign, I reached for the brake and the bike surged ahead. I wrenched the handlebars and narrowly avoided piling into a parked taxi cab, minding its own business. It was time to go home. My luck seemed to be running out. 

 I escaped the labyrinth only to find myself right where I didn't want to be; on Chahue Boulevarde a block away from Pemex with no way to turn around. Worse, I had to pull up right behind a truck full of Policia Munipal. OK. Brakes. Gas, Which is which? I made it home just fine, feeling exhilirated.

 Mike and Rowena came over to check it out. Mike thought it was a good set of wheels. I didn't know it was an all-terrain model. The tires are made for rough terrain. That made sense. I did that gas instead of brakes move over a speed bump like I was trying to pop a wheelie and didn't feel too jarred. I had crossed a bridge to follow the canal back on the other side and found myself on a rough stretch of wilderness road with big rocks to navigate around. It wasn't a problem for me.

 Another guy was walking his scooter. So today is for joy-riding. It's going to take a bit more practise before I feel comfortable about transporting my boogie board. I've seen people doing it but it must throw the balance off somewhat. Today I think I'll scope out Rio Copalita and La Bocana. My only worry is the corner onto the highway by Elektra because you have to cross two lanes after a stop sign and there's another stop sign waiting as soon as you cross. It's like an island. It's going to take some accelerating and braking finesse. After that, I think it's just a matter of avoiding potholes. I think.

Office Frog

UMAR is in the middle of a jungle and we have office visits from the surrounding wildlife occasionally. Not too often because they're afraid of us but the rain drives them indoors, even frogs. Given a choice, most of these animals would give up their natural environment and live in man-made structures in a second. Iguanas still dig holes and tunnels but the lucky ones live in pre-made drainage pipes.

The Middle of Rainy Season

We haven't seen a ton of rain, just enough to put those canals through Crucecita to work and turn everything green. Maybe we'll get it all at once some day.
Check out this big swollen rain-fed snail.

These bright newborn green lizards are everywhere. They look kind of fake, like toys. If they're sitting on the right bush, they are impossible to see unless they move. That's the trick and it works well for them most of the time.

Context is everything. I tried to startle this one in the office hallway into moving but it wouldn't budge, convinced I couldn't see if it just stayed still.

It's now 7 hours to vacation time. A lot of people have already left but I'll be spending it here in Huatulco.

Rainy season is supposed to be the hottest time of the year. That's true about the water. Sometimes you have to dive down and skim the ocean floor to find any cool but a breeze on wet skin feels good when you come out so it's well worth the effort. At UMAR the walkways are covered nicely with green canopies. Walk slowly and everything is cool.

iguana pics

Another Day, Another Puncture

A week ago Friday, I came out of the Oxxo convenience store at the Plaza and two taxi drivers were standing on either side of my bike where I locked it to a street sign on the corner. Odd. Their taxis were parked two spots away with the doors hanging open. They acted so casually, just hanging out, having a conversation, it looked damned suspicious. They were the worst actors, practically whistling when they saw me coming and walked back to their cabs. It must be hard to look innocent when you've been a total weasel all your life. You have no reference point.
My instinct told me they must have been up to no good but I've been teaching modal verbs of probability lately so technically I would have to say they might have been tampering with my bike. By the time the slow leak they started flattened my front tire completely, it was a "must have been" situation.
The leak was so slow I didn't bother about it over the weekend, just pumped it up every three hours as necessary. On Monday morning, I had to stop and pump it up four times on my way to work. It's a fast downhill ride to town from school so one pump up might have done the trick if the entire thing hadn't exploded with a bang that the security guards had no choice about investigating. I heard them coming and let them know it was me just in case they had their guns drawn. My 5 minute bike ride was now a 30 minute walk at the hottest time of the day.

The journey begins here. I thought I'd better carry the thing to protect the wheel and managed to draw blood with a slam to the shin with the pedal. Shins are more valuable than wheels. Even better, I took this outstanding opportunity to walk on the wide park like median with shady trees. It begins immediately after UMAR and it's the first tangible sign to travellers that they have arrived in a different, modern and well maintained, world. I always ride on the edge of the road on my way to work and this long green park always looks so inviting. People pull over to the side and have picnics here.






The green sculpture at top of the hill is the logo for Fonatur, a government agency responsible for keeping Huatulco beautiful and that's all I know about it except I pay a water bill to them every two months. Just past it is the final hill, a fast plunge into Crucecita, where you get the first small peak of the ocean.
The mechanic at the bike shop had me fixed up in five minutes. They really know their stuff there. The bike was cheaply made to begin with but every time something breaks, I leave the bike shop with a stronger bike than I started with. I took a look at the old tube. I don't know if the mechanic noticed the source with the exploded rubber ripped right up the seam being so obvious but I checked out the nozzle and sure enough, there was a nice slit just beneath the nozzle where the taxi drivers had jammed a small knife through the gap by the nozzle and slit a hole right underneath. The beauty of a cut like that is that it can't be patched. The tube is trashed forever. Whether the mechanic saw what I did or not, the tube he gave me has a protective nut at the nozzle's base to prevent sabotage. Maybe he did.
Trying to turn a bad day into a good one, I decided to visit Al's restaurant for lunch. Al is a proctor here at UMAR and he runs a great little restaurant in Sector U2 near Mike and Rowena. The reviews are good and I've been meaning to look for it for some time. I couldn't find it so i tried to get out of U2 and ended up getting lost. I followed the canal road looking for an exit but there was nothing but dead ends. I saw a highway overhead at one point and figured I could get to it if I went cross country through the woods but it had a bridge so it wasn't the right one. This was the road to Salina Cruz. All I could do was backtrack before I was late for work.


I found Al's restaurant the next day. Mike drew me a map. It was excellent. Good restaurants are a bit sparse in this town. Most charge tourist prices and the portions are small. Not at Al's. He calls them tacos but he serves huge things like burritos on fresh homemade tortillas that he fills with the specials of the day like "pollo tinga" "mole" or "calamari". Ten pesos each, less than a dollar, and two will carry you through the day. I felt like I'd stepped back into real Mexico again. I call it Al's restaurant but it doesn't have a name. Take the main drag into U2 by the ADO station, pass the market, cross the canal bridge with the pink railing and look for the place in this picture.


What a difference a day makes. We still haven't seen a lot of rain this season. It must have been a strong breeze that knocked this big branch down overnight.


People had to wonder why the drivers did that to my bike when I told them the story. Lots of potential answers. Number one: they were miserable guys with litytle conscience. It could have been a racist thing; revenge for telling them off one day when they cut me off on the road (that happens a lot around here unless the traffic cop is around and then everyone starts acting like human life really does mean something to them; boredom; or they thought I would call for a cab as soon as my tire was flat, thereby earning a whole twenty pesos. All of these come under one umbrella; they were jerks. To people like that, others just don't count. If i could have proved it, I would have called the cops but I couldn't. I wouldn't even recognize them again. Very average looking young guys.
Ah well. had a great walk through the park and I found Al's restaurant. In your face, taxi drivers.