La Paz to Creel
The night before I left La Paz, I happened to run into Christine and Jodie, the Canadian cyclists I'd met in San Diego, and we ended up talking over a few drinks and trading stories. They also told me of their nefarious plans involving stray dogs, of which there seems to be no shortage in Mexico, and a liter of hair styling gel they had purchased for a dollar.
They'd also mentioned that there was another group of cyclists from Vancouver staying at the same hotel I was at, and as I was leaving for the ferry the next morning, I chatted with a guy from that group for a couple of minutes. Then I rode out to the ferry, arriving with plenty of time to spare, bought my ticket, and hung out near the boat, waiting for my turn to board. After a couple of hours, after they had loaded a bunch of the cars and trucks, they finally told me I could board, and I pushed my bike up the ramp and tied it to some hooks on the wall. Then I hiked up several flights of stairs to a cafeteria, where I got a simple meal that was included in the price of the ticket, and explored the boat, which was quite large, and had several levels. It was about a five hour trip, and pretty uneventful.
We arrived in Topolobampo around 20:30, and I waited nearly 45 minutes for my turn to disembark, then rode into town, looking for a hotel. The only one I saw after roaming around a bit was more expensive than I would have liked, but seemed like a nice place, and there didn't seem to be many other options. So I got a room (the young woman staffing the desk was quite surprised I spoke Spanish), then headed out to get some dinner.
The next morning, I headed off on the bike to Los Mochis along a four lane divided highway, with a wide shoulder and little traffic. It was almost completely flat the whole way, and a quick, easy ride. I explored a bit by bike, then found a hotel, and explored a bit more on foot. I didn't find the city all that interesting, and decided to hop on the train to Creel and the Copper Canyon early the next the morning.
Unfortunately, the alarm I'd set on my cell phone failed to go off, and I woke up about 20 minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. Doubtful that I'd make the train, I went back to sleep. Later, when I checked my cell phone, I discovered that the ringer had stopped working again. It had stopped working when I first arrived in San Francisco, then suddenly started working again in San Diego.
Given that there was only one train per day, which I had missed, and that I didn't really see any particular reason to stay in Los Mochis another day, I hopped on the bike and started riding to El Fuerte, the next place I could board the train.
The first half of the trip was pleasant, with a road very similar to the one into Los Mochis, but with more interesting scenery. I passed through small villages frequently, and at one point passed a series of outdoor, roadside, wood-fired ovens, in which women were baking bread and pastries, which they sold from tables set up right next to the road. I stopped at one to sample a fresh pastry filled with some sort of fruit filling, which was still warm from the oven and quite tasty.
I stopped about half way to El Fuerte in one of the small villages to buy some tortillas from a tortilla factory, asking for 12. I got distracted talking to fellow, and wasn't paying attention to the lady getting my tortillas, and she handed me a neatly wrapped, but large stack of probably 60 tortillas. She had misunderstood, and thought I wanted 12 pesos worth (less than US$1.20). Given that it was such a small amount of money, I didn't bother with clearing things up, and rode a short distance to a small grocery were I bought an apple soda, and sat outside under the shade of some trees to make my lunch of canned refried beans, and warm, very fresh tortillas. It is amazing how much better a fresh tortilla tastes than one that has cooled and has been sitting around for a while, and I ended up eating maybe a third of the stack.
While I was eating, I chatted a bit with an older fellow, asking about the town, the road to El Fuerte, etc., and finally ended up offering him the remainder of my tortillas. He was grateful, commenting on the fact that they were still warm, and told me to wait a minute, and he'd bring me some grapefruit from his house. He trundled off, and returned a few minutes later with a couple of huge grapefruit, which he assured me were very good. I thanked him and continued on my way.
A few kilometers past the village, the four lane highway with the nice, wide shoulder abruptly turned into a narrow two lane highway with no shoulder, and also became somewhat more hilly and curvy. Traffic wasn't too bad, but heavier than in Baja, and I found myself pulling off the road fairly often to allow traffic to pass. There was also a long section of construction, where I had to ride through a mixture of sand and large chunks of rock (not exactly fun), but eventually I got to the section they had finished, and the rest of the road into El Fuerte was wide with smooth pavement.
El Fuerte had a pleasant colonial section, and after a bit of wandering and a few inquiries, I found a nice, cheap hotel across from the bus station, only a few blocks from the main plaza.
The next morning, I cycled the 10 km or so out to the train station. dodging a slow moving funeral procession heading through town. I talked to the station attendant, and he told me that I could probably take my bike of the train without taking it apart, but that I'd probably have to bargain with the engineer over the fee. So, I decided instead to partially disassemble the bike, since I had plenty of time before the train arrived. I split the frame apart, removed the wheels and seat, and strapped the pieces of the frame together, and put the wheels into the bike bag. Not quite as compact as when fully taken apart and packed, but he thought it was probably sufficient to avoid being charged extra.
Still, it was a bit of an adventure boarding the train, my backpack and handlebar bag slung over one shoulder, carrying the bike in one hand, and the bag with the tires in the other, through the narrow doorway and up the stairs. I got wedged in and stuck about halfway up the stairs, just as a couple of small kids decided they needed to get off and somehow managed to squeeze between me and the bike, while an older Mexican woman was helpfully pushing on the bike from behind and below with a big smile, trying to help me up the stairs. I finally managed to break free and stowed the bike and wheel bag in the snack car, and found an empty seat, as the train pulled away from the station.
It was a pleasant and spectacular train ride, much of which I spent hanging out between the cars, where the windows opened, giving some fresh air and better views of the rugged scenery. There were quite a few stops, but most were just long enough to load and unload people. There was a 15 minute stop in Divisadero, which had a great overlook at the intersection of several large canyons. It also had quite a few booths selling a variety of food and souvenirs, and I grabbed some tasty snacks, although I wasn't exactly sure what they were.
We arrived in Creel, a noticeable chill in the air, as it was at around 7000 feet, and I put the bike back together at the station. I had been planning to stay at Casa Margarita, a hostel I'd heard about, but about every 2 minutes as I was putting the bike together, one of their various pushy representatives there to meet the train would bother me trying to get me to stay there or join one of their tours or something, which quickly persuaded me to stay anywhere BUT there, and not give them a single peso worth of business. I ended up finding an inexpensive but nice hotel, where I had a huge room with four beds and a gas furnace all to myself.
They'd also mentioned that there was another group of cyclists from Vancouver staying at the same hotel I was at, and as I was leaving for the ferry the next morning, I chatted with a guy from that group for a couple of minutes. Then I rode out to the ferry, arriving with plenty of time to spare, bought my ticket, and hung out near the boat, waiting for my turn to board. After a couple of hours, after they had loaded a bunch of the cars and trucks, they finally told me I could board, and I pushed my bike up the ramp and tied it to some hooks on the wall. Then I hiked up several flights of stairs to a cafeteria, where I got a simple meal that was included in the price of the ticket, and explored the boat, which was quite large, and had several levels. It was about a five hour trip, and pretty uneventful.
We arrived in Topolobampo around 20:30, and I waited nearly 45 minutes for my turn to disembark, then rode into town, looking for a hotel. The only one I saw after roaming around a bit was more expensive than I would have liked, but seemed like a nice place, and there didn't seem to be many other options. So I got a room (the young woman staffing the desk was quite surprised I spoke Spanish), then headed out to get some dinner.
The next morning, I headed off on the bike to Los Mochis along a four lane divided highway, with a wide shoulder and little traffic. It was almost completely flat the whole way, and a quick, easy ride. I explored a bit by bike, then found a hotel, and explored a bit more on foot. I didn't find the city all that interesting, and decided to hop on the train to Creel and the Copper Canyon early the next the morning.
Unfortunately, the alarm I'd set on my cell phone failed to go off, and I woke up about 20 minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. Doubtful that I'd make the train, I went back to sleep. Later, when I checked my cell phone, I discovered that the ringer had stopped working again. It had stopped working when I first arrived in San Francisco, then suddenly started working again in San Diego.
Given that there was only one train per day, which I had missed, and that I didn't really see any particular reason to stay in Los Mochis another day, I hopped on the bike and started riding to El Fuerte, the next place I could board the train.
The first half of the trip was pleasant, with a road very similar to the one into Los Mochis, but with more interesting scenery. I passed through small villages frequently, and at one point passed a series of outdoor, roadside, wood-fired ovens, in which women were baking bread and pastries, which they sold from tables set up right next to the road. I stopped at one to sample a fresh pastry filled with some sort of fruit filling, which was still warm from the oven and quite tasty.
I stopped about half way to El Fuerte in one of the small villages to buy some tortillas from a tortilla factory, asking for 12. I got distracted talking to fellow, and wasn't paying attention to the lady getting my tortillas, and she handed me a neatly wrapped, but large stack of probably 60 tortillas. She had misunderstood, and thought I wanted 12 pesos worth (less than US$1.20). Given that it was such a small amount of money, I didn't bother with clearing things up, and rode a short distance to a small grocery were I bought an apple soda, and sat outside under the shade of some trees to make my lunch of canned refried beans, and warm, very fresh tortillas. It is amazing how much better a fresh tortilla tastes than one that has cooled and has been sitting around for a while, and I ended up eating maybe a third of the stack.
While I was eating, I chatted a bit with an older fellow, asking about the town, the road to El Fuerte, etc., and finally ended up offering him the remainder of my tortillas. He was grateful, commenting on the fact that they were still warm, and told me to wait a minute, and he'd bring me some grapefruit from his house. He trundled off, and returned a few minutes later with a couple of huge grapefruit, which he assured me were very good. I thanked him and continued on my way.
A few kilometers past the village, the four lane highway with the nice, wide shoulder abruptly turned into a narrow two lane highway with no shoulder, and also became somewhat more hilly and curvy. Traffic wasn't too bad, but heavier than in Baja, and I found myself pulling off the road fairly often to allow traffic to pass. There was also a long section of construction, where I had to ride through a mixture of sand and large chunks of rock (not exactly fun), but eventually I got to the section they had finished, and the rest of the road into El Fuerte was wide with smooth pavement.
El Fuerte had a pleasant colonial section, and after a bit of wandering and a few inquiries, I found a nice, cheap hotel across from the bus station, only a few blocks from the main plaza.
The next morning, I cycled the 10 km or so out to the train station. dodging a slow moving funeral procession heading through town. I talked to the station attendant, and he told me that I could probably take my bike of the train without taking it apart, but that I'd probably have to bargain with the engineer over the fee. So, I decided instead to partially disassemble the bike, since I had plenty of time before the train arrived. I split the frame apart, removed the wheels and seat, and strapped the pieces of the frame together, and put the wheels into the bike bag. Not quite as compact as when fully taken apart and packed, but he thought it was probably sufficient to avoid being charged extra.
Still, it was a bit of an adventure boarding the train, my backpack and handlebar bag slung over one shoulder, carrying the bike in one hand, and the bag with the tires in the other, through the narrow doorway and up the stairs. I got wedged in and stuck about halfway up the stairs, just as a couple of small kids decided they needed to get off and somehow managed to squeeze between me and the bike, while an older Mexican woman was helpfully pushing on the bike from behind and below with a big smile, trying to help me up the stairs. I finally managed to break free and stowed the bike and wheel bag in the snack car, and found an empty seat, as the train pulled away from the station.
It was a pleasant and spectacular train ride, much of which I spent hanging out between the cars, where the windows opened, giving some fresh air and better views of the rugged scenery. There were quite a few stops, but most were just long enough to load and unload people. There was a 15 minute stop in Divisadero, which had a great overlook at the intersection of several large canyons. It also had quite a few booths selling a variety of food and souvenirs, and I grabbed some tasty snacks, although I wasn't exactly sure what they were.
We arrived in Creel, a noticeable chill in the air, as it was at around 7000 feet, and I put the bike back together at the station. I had been planning to stay at Casa Margarita, a hostel I'd heard about, but about every 2 minutes as I was putting the bike together, one of their various pushy representatives there to meet the train would bother me trying to get me to stay there or join one of their tours or something, which quickly persuaded me to stay anywhere BUT there, and not give them a single peso worth of business. I ended up finding an inexpensive but nice hotel, where I had a huge room with four beds and a gas furnace all to myself.
posted by Matt at 14:23
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home