Down Mexico Way

So, this is it. Dress rehearsal over. Today is the beginning of what it’s all about. With the final pack in America done, we were on our way to the border by 10:15 AM. About 10 minutes later the siren sounded and we were pulled to the side at the Mexican entry checkpoint. We were the only ones crossing it seemed and the bike got a smile from a soldier armed to the teeth. A glance at the paperwork, some questions, the offered passports declined and finally a request to look in the side box (my wardrobe). All good. Once we got through, we parked on the other side and took 5 minutes to carefully store the permits and exhale. We are in! And then Fran leaned over and said “From now on, I want you to pack your knickers at the top of your luggage”.

We drove into Ojinaga but the signs for the 67 ended at an intersection with a dirt road on the other side. After a bit of driving around (nearly everyone stopped to stare at us) we found the highway entrance. The road was narrower than we expected, only one lane on either side, and heavily repaired. Within minutes the town was behind us and we were out in the dry scrubland. It was no different than Texas or the Mojave Desert really, except for 150 miles there was nothing, no towns, no gas stations, nada. Oh but did I enjoy it. A new world was opening up, right at the foot of my Lazyboy sidecar. I do love sitting in there and I had three hours to wrap my head around the fact that a new life was starting and we’ve no idea where it’ll bring us. I think the scariest thought is that we won’t make it further than a Mexican Walmart in some Gringo enclave. Oh the shame. We’d have to find some little town to hide in and play out our very own Capricorn One.

I was so lost in thought looking ahead I almost forgot to look behind me, but it was already too late. America had disappeared into the blurred horizon at the foot of the brown mountains.

Double-click to enlarge photos and read captions.

The Road South

I really enjoyed the drive to Chihuahua. So many times I’d tried to imagine it and now we were here for real. The first sign of civilization was the toll booth, a large, white, modern structure with a very glamorous young girl in red lipstick taking our Pesos. I imagined her getting ready for work every day, making herself look beautiful only to sit on a lonely stool in the middle of the desert. Then it was back to sand, yuccas and cacti. We got to the stage where we had to refuel. Urals have tiny tanks and we’d filled both extra gas cans in advance. We stopped at a lonely outpost, the Anthony Queen Parador. It was a tiny, yellow restaurant on the dusty shoulder, with a pick-up and trailer with two cows parked outside. Anyway, out came the tool kit to unscrew the gas cans, then the funnel (our very own blue funnel line!) and off we went. After Sanderson, I’m getting to be a pro at this. Meanwhile a bunch of pickups arrived from nowhere, dispensing gents in big white hats and ladies in tight pants and they all went inside for lunch. I admit we did cause a bit of interest and one nice fellow came over to make sure we weren’t in trouble. While Fran poured I idly wondered at the name of the place: Anthony Queen. I can be very thick sometimes.

Three Amigos

We’d just finished slopping the last of the gas into the tank when a silver BMW bike appeared from the other direction. It was Federico, our guardian angel. He was part of the ‘community’ on Horizons Unlimited and Fran found him after posting questions on the road from Presidio to Chihuahua. Fred offered to drive into the city with us and boy was that a great thing. We would never have found our hotel on our own, or at least not without a lot of stress. So we rode together and just outside Chihuahua we stopped on the side of the road and two of his friends pulled in and we all got acquainted. Three amigos already and we’re not even in town yet!

We found the hotel on a shabby little side street but it was beautiful. The house was old, with tiled floors and a secluded inner courtyard. There were only 6 rooms and at the dining table, a grandfather was helping his granddaughter with her homework. She wore a shocking pink cap. The sun streaming through the glass front doors brightened the book-lined living room and a woman at the heavy wooden desk silently plucked red rose petals and layered them in a crystal bowl.

The Days Inn it ain’t.

Meat at 9:00

Fred invited us to his house for dinner on the other side of town. There we met his wife, daughter and mother and dinner preparations began immediately. Preconceived ideas flew out the window when Fred went straight into the kitchen and began preparing chili (salsa) on the big stove. The ladies stayed in the background. Friends arrived and the men moved outside to the BBQ. We were told that Chihuahua is a big ranching area and its beef gets exported to Argentina. That just about says it all. There were about 10 of us in total but the amount of red meat could have opened-up a small butcher shop. They grilled it perfectly and with the tortillas, roasted chilis and avocados, it was a melt-in-the-mouth feast. We ate till almost midnight, by which time the language barrier didn’t seem to matter at all.