January 16, 2008 by Naomi.

By the time we arrived back Los Mochis we had 5 days to travel the 900km to Puerto Vallarta so once again we were back in the hands of the Mexican bus system – things were turning from a bike tour to backpacking with extremely awkward luggage. We had a plethora of bus companies to choose from, and settled on one of the ‘first class’ operators. They had no qualms about taking our bikes, and did not insist that we dismantle them, but being less than a week before Christmas, there was heavy traffic, all the buses were delayed and many of them were full. This meant that the ticket office could not sell us tickets until a bus arrived and the driver could confirm that he had space for us and our bicycles. The arrival of each bus therefore entitled a frantic scramble from driver to baggage-handler to ticket office to see if we could board. We eventually managed to board a bus after much smile and apology-assisted queue-barging. We were very grateful to be able to speak the language, even if there were the usual (and sometimes guffawing) misunderstandings between Castellano and Mexicano.

Our first leg was to Mazatlan (with another bombardment of violent films) which, despite the presence of the towering mega resorts to the North of the town centre, was a surprisingly attractive town, with an old quarter very reminiscent of that in Seville. Narrow, tree-lined streets, pleasant squares and busy bars and cafes make the downtown area the best part of town to stay in. Most importantly, we encountered our first decent Mexican bar: busy, friendly and vibrant and without an American or a margarita to be seen. We spent our one full day exploring the town on our bikes, the only set-back being the disappearance from our hotel (the Hotel Siesta, if you’re ever in town) of a little purse containing $100 absent-mindedly left in the room. The cleaning lady insisted she hadn’t seen it and it didn’t seem worth reporting to the police, who would probably have had little more to offer in response than a yawn.

Luckily our bus to Tepic wasn’t quite so hectic to get on, and we were now becoming quite the pros at getting our panniers into big bags and our bicycles ready for loading. It was just our luck, however, that one of the seats we had chosen (they let us choose our own seats) had recently been urinated on (our trousers were rescued by N’s very good sense of smell), so we couldn’t sit together. Beware: posh buses do not guarantee cleanliness! A rather intimidating moment arrived too when the bus stopped and a soldier boarded the bus telling everyone to get off while they inspected the luggage in the hold for drugs and guns. Half of us disembarked before they decided that that was enough, while several bags were unloaded for the sniffer dog to inspect. Apart from trying to chew on someone’s bag, nothing was found and we all reboarded and set off without incident.

Tepic was a town somewhat off the tourist trail but kept us entertained for the night with their pre-Christmas festivities. One of the main squares had a lovely Christmas tree put up in the middle of a rather sorry looking ice-rink, but full marks for effort, if not ability, as the locals whipped on their skates and had a rather (unseasonal for Mexico) wintry experience on the rather soggy, puddly ice.

The next morning, we were thrilled to be back on our bikes, although unsure as to whether the road we were taking was as downhill and free from traffic as reported – our experience had taught us that most non-cyclists have great problems judging these factors. However, the fact that Tepic is 900 metres above sea level, our destination, Las Varas, was at sea level and there was an alternative, shorter road meant the rumours were indeed true. After 15km gently climbing the shoulder of the volcano that towers over Tepic, we reached the summit and coasted for what seemed like hours of descent through the jungle towards the Pacific. Towns with buckets and buckets of fruit on sale, not to mention the pervasive banana bread (this is major banana-growing country), meant we did not go hungry. After climbing a mighty hill out of the jungle in the heat of the afternoon, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the road flattened towards Las Varas and we happily cruised in to town after a very satisfactory day on the bike. Unfortunately, however this was not our favourite Mexican town. Our hotel, which managed to provide luxuries such as hot water, TV and aircon, for some reason didn’t see fit to put toilets seats on the loos, and unfortunately was not as clean as other establishments we’d frequented (the lack of toilet seats and cleanliness didn’t make a very comfortable mix), but it was the swankiest place in town, and it had beds, so of course it would have to do. And after deciding that ‘tacos de cabeza’ (head tacos) didn’t really appeal, our eating options dropped off considerably and led to one more night eating pizza with the local 16-year-olds – it seemed marginally preferable to the nylon sheets of the hotel room.

Although the distance from Las Varas to Puerto Vallarta was a reasonable 98km, it was three days before Christmas, the traffic was very heavy, the road was a major highway and the shoulder was non-existent. Once more, we managed to squeeze our copious amounts of luggage and our bikes onto a bus, and a quick two-hour bus ride saw us arrive at the Puerto Vallarta bus station - a good 10km outside of town. It was possibly the most bicycle-unfriendly of towns with bone-jarring cobbled streets (the bane of any cyclist without a mountain bike and full suspension) and far too much traffic. N’s attempts to avoid said roads by cycling along the Malecon (the spacious pedestrian promenade) unfortunately ended with a run-in with an over-zealous security guard who insisted she risk her life back on the main road, and responded to her protests by threatening to arrest her for disrespect.

Luckily, we arrived at our hotel without much further ado, and met up with Paul’s younger brother, Jake, and his wife Rachel. After 5 weeks in Mexico we were delighted to arrive at our Christmas destination, see some familiar faces, and indulge in lots of beers and delicious food (most of which didn’t contain tortilla chips and refried beans, or sandwiches made of Bimbo bread that sticks to the roof of one’s mouth).

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January 14, 2008 by Naomi.

Once again, we are sorry for taking so long in updating the blog. We have had to return to Europe for a while as Paul has some legal wrangles to deal with in Spain and Naomi needed a bit of a rest. We have more blogs to post, but our American computer seems to be struggling with UK wifi facilities so please bear with us while we resolve these issues.

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