Well... a lot can happen in a week in Mexico. Since crossing the border from that other United States a week ago we have crossed through the Sonoran Desert and stayed in its blighted villages, crossed the Tropic of Cancer, sweltered along its steamy coast, rested up in a faded coastal tourist town and joined in a fiesta in the city of Durango high in the Sierra Madre Occidental. It has been a big week for Team Elephant. Sonora is a relatively poor northern state of Mexico, bordering the USA and inflicted with the some of the grim back-wash from the poorly named “war on drugs”. Many villages have been made poor by the lack of visitors with the small hotels struggling to stay open and many businesses closed. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, folks were glad to see travellers, even the budget-conscious like Team Elephant.

Sonora gave us several days of challenging riding across some twisted and decaying back roads that eventually led us to the state capital Hermosillo (pro: erm oh see yo) a modern city built on a plain under a baking sun. We decided to run south from Hermosillo along the main coast road to make make some quick distance. The toll road seemed like the best option and the first day we stumped up the money at the toll-booths 80 kilometres or so apart. It wasn't the best day we have had on a bike and I was very tired by the time we found a roadside hotel to stop for the night. The second day we followed our nose out of town on the old road and avoided the freeway. The difference was amazing and we had an excellent day on the bike rolling along though countryside and through the occasional village with the smoke of barbecued meat delicious on the air. It was an object lesson for us about balance in a journey.
Two days run brought us down to Mazatlan, a seaside tourist town in the state of Sinaloa and the chance of a few days R&R. I say “chance” because a short walk to get some exercise on the second day ended in a 20 km slog around the bay and back. To say that I enjoyed my cervezas (several) that night would be an understatement. Mazatlan is just south of the Tropic of Cancer and the hot and humid conditions were great for a rest but not so good for travelling. Our next stop solved that problem.

Durango, the capital of the state of the same name, is 250 km inland from Mazatlan but located in the Sierra Madre Occidental at an altitude of 1550m. We took a newly completed toll road on the advice of some local riders we met at our hotel. The ride was easy enough and had the benefit of crossing the tallest suspension bridge (Puente Baluarte) in the world at 402.57m. Elephant has now been over the tallest and second tallest suspension bridges as we have also crossed the French competitor (Millau Viaduct), which only manages 343m.

We arrived at Durango on the long weekend to celebrate the 20th of November which celebrates the start of the Mexican Revolution by Francisco I. Madero in 1910. For a people as proud of their country and history as the Mexicans, this holiday is a big deal. Our hotel was located in the main pedestrian mall opposite the cathedral and in the middle of the action. It seemed that most of the 500,000 residents of the city were in town for the fiesta.

There were small stages dotted along the streets and through the parks of the central city with performing musicians, silent films by the side of the cathedral and families everywhere. In a plaza one hundred metres from our hotel the National Military and School Bands Competition was well under way and everyone seemed to be in the mood for a party. The next day, the streets were again lined for a parade with every community group lined up to show their particular interest to the crowd. Many of the floats told the story of the revolution and its heroes.

One of the little details that made the festivities distinctive and enjoyable for us was a complete lack of the public drinking and boorish behaviour that seems to have become part of many of our celebrations in Australia. The photos give some idea of the big day out in Durango. As we walked home after watching the band competition, Jo turned to me and said “I think the Mexicans are going to be OK.” On reflection, I think she may well be right.