Dancing Saddle

As you can guess by now the heat was already intense and the rolling hills made the start of the ride a struggle. I could feel the lack of riding in my legs as I went along. Before I turned inland, I considered staying the night there but decided to continue. Thankfully it would be a short ride to San Pedro Pochutla. It wasn’t the prettiest of towns and the hotel was pretty grubby. There were even a few drops of water falling from the ceiling. This would ensure no slow start in the morning and a quick escape to get away from the waterboarding.

The town of Pochutla was a pretty rough town made even less pleasent by the heat. I have not idea why but I swear kartoffel is a dutch dish.

Thankfully I got an early start and ended up hugging the coast the whole day. The road was mostly rolling hills and the building and vegetation reminded me a lot of the Philippines. I changed my plans so that I would end up spending the evening in Barra de la Cruz. 70 kilometers felt like the limit of my abilities at that moment. It was a steep downhill to the town and I was not looking forward to doing the reverse. My body was overheating again and I was breathing heavily. I was also craving something comfortable for the evening. There was no signal in the town, so I messaged my sister on the Garmin Connect. She found a beautiful comfortable place for me to stay and my body was eternally grateful.

The road quality was great but the constant rolling hills were exhausting. Barra de la Cruz with its surfing mural.

Barra de la Cruz is a tiny little surf village which became famous when it hosted an international surf contest. The locals didn’t want the town to be gentrified and so set about making sure that it did not change too much. There is not much else to do here except surf and relax. I definitely stood out here as one of the only non-surfers. I took a stroll down to the beach to watch the surfers in action. It was beautiful to watch talented people do their thing. It made me determined to learn to surf properly and I already have a place in mind.

This town is purely for surfing. Either everyone was getting ready to surf or was already in the water about to surf.

The next day I started my ride to Morro de Mazatlan. It was a 90 kilometer but I felt capable of doing it. One thing I want to mention is the number of refuges going in the opposite direction. Some of them were cycling and some of them were walking. They even asked me if there were any check points up ahead. The further south I had gone, the more and more I had seen. I was a bit smarter on that day and I stopped over the hottest part of the day. After the rest it became a bit less hilly and was actually making great distance. A storm blew in and for about an hour I was riding in the rain. It was very pleasant and refreshing and I didn’t at all mind getting wet. Just after the rain broke, I met another cyclist going in the opposite direction. His name was Vladimir and he was going from Uruguay to Alaska.

Perfect rocking chair to hide from the hottest part of the day. Vladimir was the first bikepacker that I had seen in a while.

A short while later, I stopped at a tienda to get some water. The rain resumed and so I ended up staying longer than expected. This turned out to be an important and emotional moment. I started speaking to two guys there and they turned out to be Venezuelan refugees. They were making their way by foot to Hildago. Due to the current political climate in Venezuela, they had to leave while leaving their families behind. They were just two guys wanting to make a living and support their families. They were not a horde of criminals nor drug dealers like certain elements in society like to portray them. Javier’s foot was injured so I gave him some of my first aid kit to hopefully help it heal more quickly. I hoped it would help but it was a pretty limited first aid kid and He would probably need some anti-inflammatory. I also bought them some water. I wish them well and I hope one day they can be reunited with their family.

The downpour while I was speaking with the Venezuelan refugees.

The rain soon stopped and I continued on my way to Morro de Mazatlan. I was going to spend the night there and then head to Salina Cruz the next day. Unfortunately, once I got there, there was no accommodation. It was getting dark and my legs were spent. There were options about 20 kilometers further ahead and I would be riding at night in an area I didn’t want to ride in. I put on my reflective vest and lights and then floored it. It started with a steep climb and then a downhill to another surfing village. Thankfully I was able to find accommodation and some food from a lovely lady.

The very narrow ledge that i had to push my bike along. My wrinkled toes after spending the day getting soaked in the rain.

The next day I rode the short distance to Salina Cruz. It is a port town and it showed. It was very rough around the edges and the level of security was higher with gates, fencing and security guards. There were also a lot more beggars than I had experienced in other places. I decided to stay two nights while contemplating what I would do next.

Security gates were everywhere around Salina Cruz. I have heard of icees but have never had one. it was perfect for a very hot day.

I was feeling emotionally rundown and mentally low and the final 500 kilometers to the border in the extreme heat was daunting. Adding to the dilemma was the lack of any highlights over the last stretch to the border. If I was honest with myself, I was just making excuses. Excuses over the last year was a big frustration for me and making them now was not helping. I have loved Mexico but right then and there I needed to be somewhere else. After thinking about it for a long time I decided to bus to Tapachula. The border town with Guatemala.

The nine hours spent at a cafe and at the bus terminal.

On the day of departure, I had to check out and then spent the next nine hours in a café and the bus terminal waiting for the night bus to Tapachula. The ride was mostly uneventful with only two police check points on the way. When we arrived, I found a place to sleep as I didn’t sleep too much on the bus. Tapachula turned out to be a very pleasant town. I spent one day making sure that everything was in place for to cross the border as well as changing most of my pesos into Quetzals.  

The morning just before arriving in Tapachula. The heart in the town square that represented my feelings toward Mexico.

Just before the border I stopped to get a late breakfast because I had no idea what to expect once I arrived in Guatemala. The border crossing turned out to be very easy. Quick stamp out and a quick stamp in. I exchanged the last of my pesos and I was on my way. Goodbye Mexico. You were legendary. I appreciate everything you showed me and taught me along the way. It was a special experience and I encourage others to come and experience in which ever way they please. There is no one way to travel.

Well I am glad to see I am going in the right direction. The long queue of cars waiting to be imported into Guatemala.