The previous long day made its effects known, combined with a gang war in my stomach from two food items that had differences, all to make me feel groggy when I awoke.
The Rally had designated two rides for attendees this day, one for the street bikes and one for the adventure motorcycles which would include some off-road or at least dirt road sections. I was of course taking the adventure route, though I’ll admit to having no idea what would be involved or the difficulty. Hank had relayed to me to leave the side cases and any excess gear off the bikes. He and Sherry were taking the street ride since they were two up.
Outside the main hotel at the plaza, the two groups had assembled. Cullen was taking the adventure route, however I didn’t see Jimmy, only Rob. Amidst the sea of adventure bikes, my old 1100 was solo amongst an ocean of new 800’s, 1200's and GSA's. In fact aside from Hank's 1100 I'd only seen 2 others out of hundreds. But I digress.
While waiting in the line of bikes, I was approached by a big bear of a guy - Mark from Colorado - who said he recognized my bike from Advrider.com ride reports. Mark had ridden from near Aspen over ice on Independence Pass on his way south to get to the rally.
Attending a Mexican rider's meeting with no Spanish language skills was an interesting affair. I understood absolutely nothing in the 15-20 minute information discourse, EXCEPT when the leader pantomimed doing a front wheel stoppie. I was glad to at least recognize one thing from the discourse, however whether we’d be required to do one or were being told not to do one was the question.
The leaders started their engines, and as with all group events, it turned into a mass exodus in the style of a motocross race through the tiny streets of Uruapan and onto the highway heading out. I was determined to stay with the group since I had no route map or any idea where the hell we were going.
We briefly conglomerated, for the most part, at a Pemex gas station. I sat on the bike in the crowd until suddenly and explosively, the group departed at high speed with no warning.
I’d recently bought a GoPro and had missed a lot of videos due to not being able to tell when it was on or off, simply guessing at whether I’d hit the right button combo, or battery failures or a host of other frustrations and got the brilliant idea that by using a mirror I could see if the recording light was flashing, only to find that the light was too weak to see in daylight. Grrrrr.
I quickly learned that riding in Mexico required tossing out most of the rules of the road, including passing in blind curves.
The pack raced up into beautiful twisty blacktop roads going into pine forests and cold air in the mountains, until we reached a village and was suddenly invaded by a couple of hundred roaring BMW’s, stunning the inhabitants. Twisting through the little streets we exited the village and began climbing a narrow winding road, passing old lumber trucks, riders on horseback and workers in fields. In short order the road became dirt, twisting though pines with mountain vistas. Of course with so many bikes it became somewhat of a dusty trail ride, as you can imagine.
I held back my temptation to blow past slower folks and just be content to ride in a group. Other than the dust it was a great forest road, nothing difficult, but definitely fun. We came down into a valley where we found the leaders stopped, pointing out the Paracutin volcano. We chatted, took pics, looked at GS's that had tumbled somewhere on the forest road and had parts hanging off. After a bit, we were given the signal to go and I was about 5th in line.
Where we had stopped was the beginning of about 75 yards of black volcanic sand and almost immediately the lead bike went down, followed by a second and third. Did I mention that big BMW’s suck in sand? I got past the pile and in my rear view mirror I saw big GS's dropping like flies. I started laughing at the site and then hit a deep patch of sand myself, barely saving a big fall.
Big Mark the chef from Colorado, and the volcano, Paracutin in the background
My survival of the big pileup pretty much left me near the front of the pack. I entered a huge lava field, the tiny dirt and rock road undulating up, down and around the black flows which seemed like huge dirt piles on either side. It was really a great place to ride and I was lucky enough to ride it alone, the mass of motorcycles somewhere behind me and whomever was ahead, far enough that I could not see them. It was quite a sensation riding solo up and down amidst huge black lava. Here and there, you'd pass memorial to the dead - whether from the volcanic eruption or something else, I had no idea. It was somewhat surreal. In the distance an old stone church tower stood above the black piles of lava.
After a while I reached a sharp turn with an arrow and followed it into a 50 yard stretch of black sand that led to a tiny village. There were 3 or 4 bikes there, along with factory reps with water, beer and energy drinks.
Texas black bear riding a tricycle spotted in Mexico
[IMG]http://www.lonesome-road.com/Galleries/Uruapan-Michoacan/i-72KmHp5/0/L/P1050158-L.jpg[/IMG]
The local Indian residents were prepared for us and had fires burning, with handmade blue corn tortillas and wares to sell. The group continued to arrive and filled the parking area. Behind the shelters you could see an old colonial church tower rising from the black lava. I scrambled up and into the lava field to an amazing site. The remains of an old colonial church totally buried in lava with only the bell towers above. The Paracutin volcano had grown from a small mound in a farmer’s field and fully erupted in 1948, burying the area including the town and church.
After an hour or so, we left and headed in a salmon-like stream into the village of Zacan, where we regrouped and then rode to Angahuan. Riding through the old town of Angahuan was a lot of fun. The residents watched from windows and doors - a parade they'd never seen before. A huge stream of bikes and riders in their dusty town.
When we arrived at the event, there were already a couple hundred bikes and huge tents set up. We were to spend the afternoon there and it was quite a shindig.
All the tables were either filled or reserved, but after standing like a lost group of puppies Rob, Cullen and myself were finally invited to sit with a group of riders from Guadalajara. Later we were told they were the "Elite", a very wealthy and exclusive riders club from Guadalajara, all very powerful in Mexico. It was nice of them to open their table to us and they were very friendly.
Though I know little of the class system in Mexico, apparently it was a noticeable event for us to be invited to their table, but it speaks of the general manners and hospitality of the people of Mexico, especially as shaggy as we were… or at least one of us :D
We were fed constant courses of local foods, prepared by the local Indians in the traditional methods. I eventually realized that we were to sit while they brought course after course after course of different foods. While we lounged and ate, we were enjoyed local customs, dance and songs.
Around 5 pm, the prizes had been given away and we fired up and headed back for Uruapan. The blacktop roads were tight, twisty and I swear one curve had to have been almost 360º as we wound down from the elevations at high speed. And I mean high speed. One thing I learned quickly is that the Mexican riders can really ride. It was surprising to see 1200 GSA's tossed around and driven so fast on both dirt and pavement. I was really impressed with the rider skill and seriousness they take it with.
GoPro users will recognize this shot - I must have an hour of these 2 second clips checking to see if the camera is on
We got back to the hustle and bustle of Uruapan, a shock after the relaxing afternoon, made the hotel, shook off some dust and after a shower wandered to find some local food
The area was beautiful, the blacktop roads were in excellent condition and were very twisty. The people were very friendly as well and I was loving it. Another day that had richened my life was under my belt.
The Route: