The previous evening’s dinner with Hank and Sherry and a good night's rest made for a bright morning attitude, despite knowing this Mexican adventure would be ending.
Having been without access to the internet for the last few days, I decided to try and upload a ride report from the previous day or two, however the password for the hotel wireless didn't work.
I walked out into the plaza and looked for some coffee, finding a cup in a small “OXXO” store, much like a 7-11. It felt weird and disturbing to find prepackaged foods, coffee from machines, and styrofoam cups after so many quaint cafes, “cafe de olla” and "café con leche " served hot from earthenware cups.
I said "Wifi?" to the checker and he pointed outside to the square, so I ambled out, feeling very proud of my Spanish communication abilities.
The surrounding mountains were beautiful
I was looking forward to a quiet time of coffee, editing photos and uploading. As soon as my tush touched down, an old gentleman ambled up and began speaking in Spanish to me.
After a couple of minutes of me waving my arms in my best Italian, he spoke to me in broken English and said "Eet ees a beautiful early morning no?" I agreed and complimented him on his English. He began speaking to me of many things, his age and life, his town, how he loved to walk early in the mornings.
Feeling pressed for time, I began to get antsy about uploading and then caught myself. Life was about these moments and about people, and I felt a little angry at myself for wanting to rush him. I closed my laptop, leaned back and enjoyed our long chat. His name was Fortencio, aged 77, and he'd grown up in Santiago, but had worked 55 years in a consulate. I asked what he had done, and he told me he was the bell boy there, before becoming the elevator lift operator.
We talked and talked, him telling me about the various people as they would walk by and how long he'd known them, where they had grown up and other things. He said his wife of 70 still looked as young as when they'd married in the early 1960's and how she was visiting family in nearby the nearby village of San Francisco. He would point out the buses and tell me where they went and how much I would pay to ride them.
Fortencio also told me about the previous night's event, in which a new mayor had been elected and last night was the official handover. He then told me a previous mayor had been shot 2 years before by drug lords. Hank had told me the town had had an incident a few years back, which had stalled tourism to the town. It was a shame as Santiago is a beautiful place, but Hank and I both had the feeling it was about to make a comeback.
My time up, I thanked Fortencio for his kindness and shook his hand before heading back into the hotel to get geared up, find Hank and get the plan in order.
We decided to grab breakfast in the restaurant, one of the centerpieces being an old well.
Laredo was our immediate goal, but Hank was unsure as to whether to go to the Colombia International Bridge about 30 miles north of laredo where the traffic would be lighter. It being further out would add time to the trip, but often the traffic at the Laredo crossing could take hours. It was a gamble, but we opted instead for the Laredo crossing.
Santiago sits about 20 miles south of Monterrey and as we headed out, the sky was much clearer than when we'd come through the northern end the previous week. The smog had been so heavy one could barely see the mountain silhouettes. But this morning they were easy to see and impressive.
Soon we were into the bustle of Monterrey's highways and I stuck to Hank as tightly as I could, weaving and bobbing in traffic. We cleared the town and grabbed gas on the north side. Hank said to have the passport ready as there would be more checkpoints on the way north now. The heat rose quickly as we left Monterrey, my mind on the traffic and on the drab vision of the border and returning to life in Texas.
I'd been warned to lose the GoPro and not take any pictures near the border area unless I wanted to sit in a room and be questioned for a few hours, so I stashed the cameras and put on my dumb tourist face. Which differs only slightly from my dumb regular face.
At the split for either Colombia or Nuevo Laredo…
We paid our dues sitting in the heat of multiple construction delays
As we neared the International Bridge in downtown Nuevo Laredo, the heat became more oppressive. Hank had asked earlier if I wanted to keep my import permit (good for 6 months) and I had said yes, so we avoided having to deal with that and paid the toll to cross the bridge to the US. I'd gotten down to the bottom of my peso pile and ended up paying the toll in US dollars.
As we sat idling in the heat, the crossing lanes jammed with traffic, Hank asked if I wanted to eat at Wendy's or Whataburger with an evil grin. I told him “neither” loudly and laughed. We then split into different lanes and inched along. By the time my slot was open, I was feeling loopy from the heat and I can't imagine sitting there for hours during July or August.
The Border Patrol Officer asked for my passport and to remove my helmet. He then asked a few questions about where I'd been. I told him “San Miguel” as Hank had advised all of us to do. Hank said that so many Americans go to San Miguel regularly that it’s accepted as routine, whereas if you said say, “Uruapan”, which is in Michoacán, a known cartel area, you’d likely get delayed for a couple of hours being questioned. The officer then asked if I had any fruits, meats, etc and I told him I had some chocolate and some energy bars. He asked to see inside the cases, so I dismounted and opened a couple of them for a cursory glance. He said all was fine and sent me on my way. I exited the official area and back into the US, pulling over in a Valero gas station lot just outside the gate to wait for Hank and Sherry.
They rolled in about a minute later and we tried to gas up, but the credit cards weren't working, so we drove further out for gas.
We were hungry and needed a break from the heat, pulling into a Fuddruckers nearby. It felt very, very strange to be back in the U.S., so different than the beautiful and fascinating country I’d just left. In the hamburger chain restaurant, the employees were dressed in bizarre costumes which added to the surreal feelings. It was then I remembered it was Halloween, as I'd lost track of time in Mexico.
After a burger, fries and a root beer, I started to relax from the tension of crossing and the exhaustion began to set in.
We cranked up and raced along to Dilley, where I followed them to his shop to deliver a hat Sherry had bought, literally off the head of a local in Mexico. I’d had room in my top case for the mini sombrero and thus had carried it for much of the trip.
I thanked Hank and told them goodbye, heading back out in the heat for next 3 hours to my home outside Kerrville. The ride back through Devine, Hondo and Bandera was bittersweet, as I longed for home to get out of the gear, the heat and to relax, but I also hated the thought of my ride ending.
After a couple of hours, I made it home and readied myself as best as possible for “regular” life again.
Over the next few days, I had time to reflect on my journey, which was much more than just a physical one. I’d left Texas, honestly with some fears - motorcycle issues, getting sick or worse getting hurt or killed, only to lose all three. Luckily my motorcycle performed well enough to get me through, though I had to do more work to get it running perfectly. My fear of getting a severe stomach illness proved unfounded, only having a couple of random days where I didn’t feel 100%, so I was lucky in that regard. And lastly, the fears of violence from bandits and drug cartels I found to be overrated. There’s no denying those issues exist, however they are blown far out of proportion by our media, why, I don’t know. That said, anything can happen anywhere and you must use common sense, but the citizens of Mexico seemed confused as to why Americans would fear coming south.
What I did find were people who were kind and friendly, going out of their way to do so. I found fantastic scenery and excellent food, with some of the best motorcycle roads in the world. The culture and history were deep and enjoyable, as was the attitude of “live and let live”, with so little uptightness about rules and regulations.
The difference was so noticeable after crossing back into the U.S., where you could literally feel the control issues, expecting to be ticketed for driving to slowly or too fast, for wandering out of a lane or countless other reasons to be harassed. That, more than anything, was what shocked me about returning. Mexico has a sense of freedom that is now lacking in my own country.
This trip opened a new world for me, taking away fears and concerns, real or imagined and I look forward to heading south of the border again any time possible.
The Day’s Route:
The entire route: