Intro : In Februari 2006 I shipped my BMW 1150 GS from Belgium to Galvestone, Texas and in March, with my wife Annemie as passenger, we did the “tour of Mexico”. 9000 Km in 30 days. It was a long but beautiful drive. We did not make it to Yucatan. I left my bike with friends in Santa Fe with the idea of coming back and ride the rest of Mexico and Guatemala.
October 27, 2007. Departure in Santa Fe for the first leg of this Central America journey : we had planned that I would pick up Annemie in Cancun on the 2nd of november. So I had maximum 6 days to cover the 4500km.
First day, rather cold, I made it to Sanderson, TX. Next day I did the last 200km to the border in Del Rio in no time, since one of the bikers I joined in Sanderson carried a radar detector.
Arrived in Del Rio I found out that it was not possible to buy a Mexican insurance on a Sunday. The Mexican officials told me, “no tiene problema, tu la compras amañana en qualquer ciudad”. In fact, beside Sandborns on the American border side, nobody in Mexico will sell you insurance for a foreign motorbike. As a result, I have done 16,000km without any insurance at all. In fact, a very dangerous situation, because even if it is not your fault, police will put you in jail until you have completely paid the other party. But insurance is not obligatory in Mexico, so police will not stop you as long as you have no accident.
Sunday night, after driving 800 km in a nice temperature, I arrived at 6 pm in Saltillo. It was somewhat fresh in the evening, so I decided to put a second layer in the morning. That was overoptimistic. After a 100km I had to stop to put on the heavy gear and winter gloves. In fact, just after Saltillo, you move up to the Alto Plano and you only leave it 1300km later. I made the mistake of thinking that temperatures in November would be similar to these of March.

Third night, Mexico City. On the map it looks as if you´re making an enormous circle around the city, but in reality you drive along the suburbs. At the end of the day I was completely lost in the chaotic traffic at the southern edge of the city. But a biker has always a local brother to help him and my angel had seen me asking directions each time traffic was stopped, so he came over and proposed that he would take me to the starting point of the Puebla road. I followed him on a track along an abandoned railway in the middle of the slums and it hit my mind, that if that guy was a wrong guy, nobody would ever hear from me again. But it was a good guy, and he dropped me at a “auto hotel”. Every town in Central America (and at least Brazil for all I know) has lots of these rendez-vous hotels. They are not brothels, because they are visited by couples, there is no lobby and a lady will give you the number of a garage where you park, you close the gate or the curtain and walk up the stairs to your room. The bed is kingsize, there will be mirrors on the wall or the ceiling and if you still didn´t got it, the porno on the TV set will make it clear for you. Most of the time there is no window, because you do not come there to hang through the window, and in some of them you can order some expensive food by phone. The dish will turn up in your room through some kind of a lock, and you pay the same way. Point of not interrupting your activities. You will pay more than the other customers because they pay only for 4 hours, while you want to sleep the whole night. If at the end of a long ride you have nothing else, you are happy to see the purple letters of “Motel Auto Parking”.
I left at 6 in the morning, hoping to get easy on the Pueblo highway, but it did not happen that way.
The streets were already full of traffic and with people waiting for transport to take them to their work in the city. They were all very friendly but even being that close to the highway, nobody managed to put me on it. In stead I found myself on a small road that went from 2000 to 3000m of altitude. It was fun until I realized that there was glazed frost on the full width of the road. A little bit scary. Fifty km later I could join the highway and got a fantastic view on the twin 5000m volcans. Euphoric.

Passing Cordoba you get off the Alto Plano and you enter tropical climate. But it was only 200km of pleasant warm cruising. Then came the clouds and the rain. The worst rains in Tabasco for the last 30 years. First I realized there was a lot of water along the road, the wind became very strong, the sky was very dark. When I asked the people at the gas station if the rain was there to stay, I got a sad look. I waited 2 hours, but then people told me that 70% of the province was flooded : it made no sense to wait any longer. When I reached Villahermosa I got an idea of the catastrophe. Traffic was stuck on 1 lane, because people where bringing their belongings to higher ground with small boats. I had just enough room to overtake kilometers of standstill traffic. I stopped at a “Auto hotel” but they told me that they expected to be flooded during the night. I went into the town where I found another “auto motel”. It rained the whole night and next day police stopped me, telling the road was cut. But if I wanted, I could go on my own risk, he said. I gave a show by, standing on my pegs, driving through a sea of brown water. In all this misery, people expected some entertainment, but I came through without my luggage going into the water. After being stopped several times by police telling me that I would not make it, I suddenly went over the bridge of the river and was high and dry on the way to Campeche. I later learned that next day, the ditches that I saw being built by the army, broke and that the whole city was now under 2 meters of water. One day longer and my motorbike journey would have been finished. The rest was an easy ride because I didn´t meet one single vehicle and I decided to go on to Chetumal to make sure not having to sleep in another “auto motel”. In Bacalar I found a small nice hotel on the shore of a beautiful blue lake, I was in Yucatan, a half day ride from Cancun. Next day I went to the local BMW dealer to change oil and tires, but they were closed because of the 1st of November holiday. On Saturday morning I found a very good bike shop near the market in downtown Cancun. I forgot his name.

I drove the 4500 km in 5,5 days and on Friday I waited for Annemie at the airport. The second leg of the Central America trip could begin.

We stayed one night in Cancun and one night in Playa del Carmen. I cannot understand why people want to spend 10 days of their meager holidays in a place like this. Sure the sea is Caribbean blue, but to get there you have to step over 10 layers of beach chairs full of tattooed and pierced bodies. The place itself is an open building site interrupted with bars, restaurants and shops. You only have to drive 70kms to the south to get to Tulum : beautiful white beach, the same blue sea and all that for yourself. There is the full range of lodging, from the cabaña to the luxury. I am probably eccentric in my way of travelling, but with Tulum being so close to that other tourist world, I do not understand why not more people try to escape from their playa. But on the other hand, if everybody was like me, imagine Tulum full of noisy motorbikes and smelly guys.

Anyway, we stayed only 2 nights in Tulum because we knew we were going to come back to get Annemie on the plane.

On the way out of Tulum we were stopped by 2 policemen, hunting tourists with a speed gun. Speed limits in Mexico are excessively low and the Cancun region is overpopulated with Miami looking police sitting with Ray Ban sunglasses in black Dodge Chargers. They started very high with a ridiculous fine and confiscation of the bike, in the hope of getting a 50$ bribe. But after 15 minutes during which I laughed away their dollar ambitions by telling them, that after 15000 km biking in Mexico I knew perfectly well what a fortune 50 $ was, they told us to go on and drive carefully. I do not know if it was that these guys were driving a motorbike themselves, yes , the second policeman goes as passenger holding his partners waist.
It is an easy ride to the border with Belize, and an easy border crossing too. Belizeans are very pleasant and “cool” and it is all easy going.

The B&B of our choice, villa Biscardi run by a Belgian lady, had no room available and we found a room in a guest house run by an extended Chinese family. But the next day, Françoise of villa Biscardy had no problem of keeping our bike while we would sail to Caye Caulkner. Françoise lived many years with her ex-husband Marco in Sudan and she still has a friendly relationship with Marco who runs his Italian restaurant 2 blocks away. Marco got crazy about our bike and Françoise asked us next day “He surely wanted to buy your bike”. Marco had a rather pessimistic view on our trip to Guatemala. In his opinion he would only go with at least another bike, and he would still be scared. One more opinion of the many we already heard and read.

Caye Caulkner is what we expected- : a beautiful island with very relaxed people and no cars. It takes about 4 hours to walk half the island. The other half (the island was cut in 2 some years ago by a hurricane) is only accessible by private boats. We met Rafaele and Gary, 2 American friends in their 50´s. Rafael had some incredible stories about his travelling and skydiving in Peru while Gary asked if I would be interested of joining him crossing, on horseback, the USA from North to South. Why not. I will visit him in July.
Back in Belize City, I still hesitated on going to Guatemala and instead going south of Belize. This was no option for Annemie- : she insisted on going to Antigua to see the place where our son worked 3 months in a poor children project. So we left next day for the border in order to be before dark in Flores, Guatemala.

It’s a nice road to the border, jungle, nice wooden houses and well kept surroundings. The border itself is a hectic place and the officers of the Guatemala customs laughed when I asked where I could buy an insurance. The border city of Ciudad Melchor de Mencos is just some poor houses and it takes only 500m to enter one of these supposed dangerous roads, where in the past years several armed attacks had occurred. It is a dirt road with zero traffic. It is 150 km to Flores and for each vehicle that you see you wonder if it is a good or a bad one. We saw some 10 cars during the 2 hours trip. It is mainly farmland and you pass some villages of wooden cabins. Anyway, I was happy when we arrived in El Cruce on the Lago Petén Itzá. A very beautiful lake surrounded by jungle and giving you the feeling that you are back in civilization. Thanks to the nearby ruins of Tikal there are several hotels, one of them recently bought by Francis Coppola, and we stayed at "Mon ami" owned and run by an interesting Frenchman, Santiagio Billy. Funny name for a French. His hotel was a simple set-up, mostly build by himself, with lots of gusto I must say. He had lots of stories about the country and he did not seemed worried by us biking through it.

At the evening when we came back from a first ride to Tikal, he came to find us with a young guy who was looking for us : Simon, a 25y old Polish photographer. He had seen us driving away and he himself was traveling on a motorbike, THREE years. Shipped his 1200 BMW GSA from Japan to Argentina and then drove all the way up. He had some amazing stories and he was clearly in need of conversation. Most of the travelers we met had interesting stories to tell and they were interested in ours, even if they were most of the time half our age.

Unfortunately we got heavy rain the day we went to see the ruins. Still impressive though.
Because of the rain we stayed one day longer with Santiago who advised against driving south through the mountains (Coban), because of the rain. That was a pity because there are many interesting things on that mountain road. If one day the Mexican bikers I met in Antigua want to do it, I definitely would like to join them.
We went south on the main road through Poptún to Rio Dulce. Road works and rain made the road good for some skating and we went down. Impossible to get the bike back on its feet, it just skidded away each time we tried to lift it up, until we got help from the road builders. The road is beautiful without being spectacular, but the river Rio Dulce is really scenic. Lots of (empty) hotels of all kind.
Rio Dulce – Guatemala City has been the most difficult journey of the whole trip. This is how traveler and writer Simon Gandolfi describes it : quote “You reach the lake (Itzabal) by boat via Belize or Honduras; alternatively you say your prayers and travel by coach from Guatemala City. This highway twists down 1500 meters through dry rugged mountains. Guatemalan drivers play Russian roulette on the blind curves and the safest seats are on the aisle midway down the coach. “Unquote.
The two lane road is loaded with heavy traffic full of stoned drivers in their 20 ton monsters. When you pass one of them they start chasing you until they cannot catch up any more. On that road we realized the level of organized crime in the country- : taking a coffee in a roadside restaurant we saw 4 trucks stopping for lunch. An army of heavy armed private security men guarded the trucks while the drivers had their meals. An old truck loaded with some meager cows had his guard with shotgun in the back. Even the Coca Cola delivery truck carried a gunman.
Some 20 km´s before the capital we got stuck in a monsterous traffic jam caused by heavy roadworks. No way to go around the trucks. We were scared that we would not make it through the city before dark and we were very, very relieved when I finally found a way out along the thousands of stinking vehicles. We got quickly through Guatemala City with the help of a motorist who showed us very enthusiasticly his fascination with motorcycle travelers. During the whole journey we met several times this kind of sympathy. .
Antigua is a beautiful colonial city, full of all kind of tourists, restaurants and hotels, but we mainly came here because we wanted to see the kid´s project in Jocotenango. Amazing to see how Magda, a Guatemalan lady, uses her house and little means to take care of 160 poor kids a day. Bad luck but the day we went to visit there were no kids because it was Magda´s son anniversary. Still she showed us the new premises build in her backyard, which Jan had not seen yet.
The tourist information office in Antigua advised us to not absolutely drive on a bike to lake Atitlan, so we booked on a one day tourist trip. That was a big mistake because the alternative route to the lake appeared to be a dream on a motorbike and we would have avoided the dangerous main road which we were, 2 days later, obliged to take when driving north. Once again we got the wrong information, especially true when coming from people who do not know what travelling on a motorbike means.

On the way to the border we stopped in Chichitenango to visit the famous Sunday market. True, full of tourists, some of them brought in with huge buses, but still an amazing place and lots of old Indian woven textiles at a good price.

It was a very pleasant ride to the border, on a good two lane road through a scenic canyon.

At the border the Mexican police told us that the customs were in their office since the office is supposed to be open until 4h (it was 3h30) whereas their door was closed and nobody to be seen. A scene for “hidden camera”. The closest place to sleep is Comitán and next day we were obliged to drive 160km to do the importation papers for the bike. The officer in charge showed me a computer printout that proved that the office was closed the day before at 16h07. Mystery, but he gave a 6 month permit (because of our passports) in-stead of the 30 days that they gave at the American border. “Mexican souplesse”.

The journey back to Cancun was nothing special and we had 2 more nice days in Tulum, before Annemie took the plane back home. We had done exactly 4000 km since I picked her up 3 weeks ago. On the ride to the airport I lost the cover of the left pannier and the left bolt of my helmet screen. Not very encouraging, but at the end the only equipment failures I had on the whole trip.

Next day I started the third leg of my voyage- : the shortest road to the pacific coast and back north to Santa Fe by following the Pacific and going through Baja California. 8000 km in 16 days.
25 November : Cancun – Campeche. 26 November : Campeche-Ocosigno.
The first days were “déjà vu” since we had already driven the Pacific up to Acapulco in March.
In fact, it was not exactly déjà vu : driving the winding road of Chiapas without passenger was real biker ´s fun until it started to rain in Ocosingo. I slept in a ramshackle hotel. Whereas we had not one single day of rain in March, I had many wet days this time. Like in Guatemala, as soon as the rain started, cars and trucks went off the road . At 2400m it was not more than 10ºC. I was happy to arrive 3h later in Tuxtla Gutierrez, where the temperature was 15ºC up. The end of rain and cold weather until the American border.

On the third day I went in one long drive from the cold and the rain to the tropical blue of the pacific coast. In Tehuantepec I had to decide if I would go up the mountains to Oaxaca, one of the most beautiful cities of Mexico, or continue on the coast to Zipolite. The heavy clouds hanging on the mountains made me decide very quickly that Oaxaca would be a good excuse for a third Mexico visit. Between La Ventosa and Tehuantepec you have always extremely strong winds. Trailers go at 10 km/h and when overtaking you get a heavy blow when hitting the wind again. A little bit scaring. It is encouraging to see that even oil-rich Mexico is eco-minded and has built a huge windmill plant here.

The road becomes really beautiful some 50km´s after Salina Cruz and just before dawn I got into what I thought was Zippolite, but in fact was the sister village of San Augustinillo. Driving through the only street, looking for a place for myself and the bike, I saw a nice looking blonde crossing the street. Obviously she saw me also, sweating in full bikers gear.

Next day, while swimming in the pacific I met Irish Charlie who was supposed to receive the Frisbee launched by Aussie Chris. But the Frisbee landed on the head of an older guy (yes older than me) and Chris started talking to the Frisbee victim while Charlie and myself started to chat. At the end I met the whole party, including English Claire, who I saw the day before at my arrival, Italian Frederico and Swiss Marina. Followed 2 days of partying on the beach and when they left for the airport it was like long-time friends going.
I left Zipolite very early and took a breakfast in Puerto Escondido : probably the best croissants I ever had. The place itself is a nice little town, apparently popular with hibernating, retired Europeans and Americans. Beautiful until some 50 km´s south of Acapulco and quite a nightmare going through Acapulco. Finding my way out to Pie de la Cuesta was daunting and I can imagine what it must be for a tourist in a rented car. In Pie de la Cuesta I slept at the B&B held by German Helmut, who was an ex enthusiastic motor biker and racer. He had the visit of his friend who still had some years to go as engineer with BMW Motorrad. He was pretty disappointed with BMW where he was pushed away by younger guys. He had asked to be released, but instead of the golden handshake, BMW had only something plastic in mind and so he is obliged to hang on to his chair. I heard some very poisonous stuff about BMW.
The road north of Acapulco is very scenic, good surface and no heavy traffic. Biker´s heaven. I had lunch in Playa Azul which is a 100% Mexican beach affair with most of its visitors coming from working class Lazaro Cardenas. It is not a nice beach but very interesting. The women swim in what seems full cloth swimming suits, with bras and underwear still on. Reminded me the Maghreb beaches. But with a big difference- : several mariachi bands stroll around looking for a 1 or 2 songs job. Indian women vending, for our taste, very ugly necklaces, plastic statues etc.. And they sell a lot. The lunch was not particular cheap, so I suppose these families spent a lot of their money on these holidays.

At 4 o´clock I stopped in Neixpa which is a surfer´s paradise. It is not exactly a village because there are only cabañas for rent but it is situated at a very nice spot on some kind of laguna.

Here I saw the first hibernators on wheels, mostly Canadians. I slept in a very basic cabaña and had a very good diner at the only restaurant of the place. The American owner sold himself by telling that he made the best "pulpa" of Mexico. It was probably true, but it was definitely his Mexican wife who was cooking. I left at 7 in the morning, everybody else still sleeping, and at 9 I stopped in Maruata for breakfast. For once the “Le Guide du Routard” was right : Maruata seems the Zipolite of 30 years ago. I stopped at a shaded place where 2 ladies, apparently travelers, were taking a breakfast : 2 Flemish sisters, one of them living since 30 years in Guatemala. Instead of the time of a breakfast, I stayed 2 hours chatting about Mexico, Guatemala, and Belgium. It´s amazing how we stay attached to our roots, how pleasant it is to chat in our dialect, and how we tend to feel the same about many topics, even after so many years away. I also left Belgium 32 years ago and presently live half time between Belgium and Portugal.
The road further north continued scenic and pure motorbike pleasure, the surroundings of Manzanillo are amazing and one has the impression driving on a cat-walk atop of the lagunas and the river. Just north of Manzanillo the 4-lane road turns suddenly back into a small 2-lane smooth surfaced road with few traffic. I slept in Barra de Navidad, which is more of a Mexican holiday town, but in the winter invaded by mainly Canadian hibernators. But all still friendly and small scale.

Next day same scenario : beautiful, no traffic and lots of small beach villages. Just north of Barra de Navidad I drove into La Manzanillo which would have a been a much better stop than B de N : cabañas on the beach and a marvellous place to swim.
The beautiful road continues to Puerto Vallarta, which I crossed in 1 hour time. It is a very modern town lined with hotels where the Cancun-type tourists, like in Huatulco near Puerto Angel, do not leave their ghetto. A few kilometres out of town and you end up again in that totally different world of empty, wooded landscape interrupted by spectacular views on the Pacific. I wanted to sleep in San Blas, but it turned out to be a very depressing place with lots of dilapidated hotels, and one ridiculous expensive one. On the way to San Blas I had seen a camping place on the beach, but it only had those monstrous North American camping vans, and I did not want to put my lilliput tent in between. So I decided to turn back to that place and when I arrived at nearly dark, I found out that it had a small, beautiful corner, where the monsters could not enter, and which still had a nice spot next to the Toyota Landcruiser of French world traveler Bruno who was on the road since 9 years. Jezus, I felt myself a day tripper hearing his stories.

At 10 meters from the ocean, where in the morning you could see the dolphins pass by, it was a marvelous place and at a nearby village I got some smoked fish for 2€ and a beer. But it was also the end of the most beautiful 2000 kms I had done in mainland Mexico. And going further north, the summer temperatures were gone too.
Next day was 720 kms highway in flat, agriculture land, but with the best tacos I ever had just out of Culiacán. Like so often you find the best and cheapest local food along the main truck roads.
The ferry to Baja California is not exactly in Los Mochis but in Topolobambo. Just before Los Mochis you must find the unmarked road that leads about 20kms west to the harbor. Waiting for the ferry I met Americans John and Ingrid who had some amazing stories about their world sailing tour which took them 6 years. Now they went by car to their hide out in La Paz, since the bad weather in the US had not permitted him to fly his personal plane down here. We were joined by Ernie, who was a retired photographer who had worked with Cousteau and who was still diving. The ferry leaves theoretically every day at 22h but that was the time he arrived now in the harbor. It is the biggest ferry I have ever seen and the spectacle of the crazy drivers unloading these huge American trucks at full speed makes you forget the 2 hours it takes to empty the boat. My American friends had a cabin, but I unfolded my sleeping bag in the bar, where I was joined by a Mexican motor biker who went to Baja to sell his Honda 600 street bike. Nice guy. It´s amazing how all these passengers tried to sleep, while with nobody at the bar, we got 100 decibels of blaring music until late in the night. We arrived in La Paz at 8am and me and the other biker managed to get out of the car deck by more or less jumping off the inclined ramp. Something impossible for the cars. They had to wait 2 hours in that incredible noisy, stinking and dark garage. But they were going to be rewarded by a blue sky and some 15ºC more then on the mainland.
La Paz made me think of Marbella, with a clean and nice malecon, full of morning joggers. On a coffee terrace I met a Norwegian biker with his Alaskan wife. From now on, the road would be accessible again to Harley Davidson´s, and they gave me a lot of tips on where to stop on the way north. I did not go to Cabo San Lucas, which seems to be a Cancun situation, but went straight north. We had met a French GS rider who lives for several years in Cancun and he told us he would never ride alone the whole Baja road. Like so often during this journey, that information was wrong. People have it from hearsay, and especially what concerns security, things get positioned quit out of proportion. It is true, that if you have a breakdown on some isolated roads, you surely wish being somewhere else. Especially late in the afternoon. The Bonampak road along the Guatemalan border is one that I decided not to do alone. But it was more because I had enough of the cold and the rain. But Baja California is absolutely no problem. Sure it is desert landscape until you reach El Rosario de Abajo, but there is enough “friendly” traffic on the road to give you a safe feeling. And a good feeling to- : the scenery is often breathtaking, the sea of Cortez, besides being one of the worlds aquariums, is deep blue, and there are some interesting people on the road. No doubt that Baja California has his own character, it is not Arizona and it is not Mauritania. But I got some Sahara feeling, and I had to manage my 25l of fuel. To be sure I bought in Cataviña from a truck along the road a bottle of 4L and when I arrived at the gas station in La Rosario I had less then 1L in my tank. The rule is that you fill up at any gas station that you pass and that you keep looking for bottles of fuel sold along the road.

In Mulege I was invited by 2 American travelers to put my tent next to their camper and we had a delicious diner together with a Canadian couple.
When I reached the coast in La Rosario, the fun was over. It is crowded, lots of traffic, with large communities of poor Indians who work on the big agriculture properties. There are probably some nice places south of Ensenada, but since the sky was loaded with heavy dark clouds, and temperature was about 12ºC, I stuck to the main road which stays about 20km east of the Pacific. December is definitely too late for the beach in northern Baja but you cross some beautiful mountains south of Ensenada. It started to rain, it was already dark and I had to tail a Jeep in order to see where I was going. Tough. I was really delighted when I passed a motel and the guy could have asked any price for his shabby room. The attached restaurant was not bad though and after flooding my whole bathroom waiting for the hot shower, a promise that never materialised, I was happy to get into bed with 2 heavy blankets. Incredible, gtiven that the day before I slept in my tent using my summer sleeping bag. But it is true that that was 1000 km more to the south.
Next morning, like most of the time, I left the place before anybody was awake, and had to ride 2 hours before I was likely to find something to eat, because in Mexico nobody is that crazy to open before 9o´clock. I saw a board with handwritten- : Caffé Latte, which was rather weird in Mexico, and when I entered the place I understood that this was not a common Mexican café. Some kind of garage with old sofas, lots of books, a counter with donuts and an impressive list of all kind of coffees. The American owners had just opened 3 days before and hoped to build a new live after leaving their revolution back in the United States. We had an interesting conversation on American and Mexican society, and they told me to go on youtube.com and look for “freespeech”. They were the authors of some of these spots.

It was a pity I could not stay any longer, but they confirmed what several people had told me the night before, namely a heavy winter storm coming in from the Pacific. San Diego had already been hit in the early morning. So I would have to race faster then the wind. In vain, because one hour later, on the wine road to Tecate, I got the shower that I had missed the night before. The American officer at the border told me that normally he would be jealous with me, but not today. I had chosen Tecate instead of Tijuana, because it was a small and safe border crossing, but it was a wrong choice. When I went to see the Mexicans officers at the other side of the building (you cross the border without meeting them, the same is true in the opposite direction, namely no Americans when you go US-Mexico) they told me that I could not do the necessary paperwork concerning the temporary importation of my motorbike, because Tecate was to small to operate an importation counter. I would have to return 100km to Tijuana. If you do not declare that you have taken your vehicle with you out of Mexico, you get big problems the next time that you want to return to Mexico. Returning to Tijuana would mean, driving in the direction of the storm and that was not exactly what I wanted. I decided to do a detour in Texas and do the paperwork at the border in El Paso.

Where 2 months ago I was happy to be back in the Mexican confusion, now it felt good to return to the “safe world”, a bloody cold world for that. Interstate 8 follows the border and in Calexico I saw a sign “To border”. It took me 3hours to drive back into Mexico, found out that the importation counter had been moved to a new border building 30km further and finally be back on the I8. The storm had had ample time to catch up. When I went off the highway to put on all the warm cloths I had, a young guy in the supermarket where they let me use a back room, described the road further east as “motorbike hell” : very heavy wind, steep descents, thousand curbs, probably snow. No sir, you better load your bike on a truck. In fact it was no hell, not even purgatory, it was fun and as I descended, sunny and dry. That´s where I decided that the next trip would be Alaska.
9th December 2008 : freezing Santa Fe, 51,000km on the teller, 16,000 more than 50 days ago.

Pictures related to this story : http://picasaweb.google.com/michelbuyckx