Okay… now, I’ll catch you all up on the ride from Mazamitla to Morelia. There are five days of riding through the countryside to talk about, so I’m breaking it down day by day to the best of my memory.

We left the cabin in Mazamitla on Monday, February 25th, and headed out of town on a different road than that of which we’d come into town. It was a nice, long downhill with lots of straight aways and few curves. Everyone was in good spirits about the path we took, especially the guys that had taken the super long, uphill, rocky ’short cut’ back to Mazamiltla on Sunday. We rode a long time that day. It was a pretty balanced ride as I remember. However, there was a shift in erengy as the sun was going down and we crossed over from one of the wealthiest states (Jalisco) to the poorest, highest crime rate state (Michoacan) in Mexico. It was an immediate, drastic change that we all notice as we rolled across the state line and into the first city in Michoacan, Cotija. It was a strange twist, as if out of the twilight zone. It looked like a very poor area, but with a lot a young kids driving nice cars and trucks, all with shiny new rims and thumping speakers. Somebody mentioned that the drug cartel was very big in that area. I believe it. We hurried on and looked for a place to rest for the night. After, some advice from the locals, we came across the recommended sleeping area… The parking area of a cockfighting ring. Eco went up to the house and tried to get permission form the owner for us to crash there for the night. No luck, just big scary dogs, she said. Right then, as we nervously settled into this reality of not being in Kansas anymore, Kipchoge got word that Segio, our film maker and friend, had gone into town and found us four rooms at a nice hotel in downtown Cotija FOR FREE (that’s the magic of this tour that some people refer to as ‘the golden bubble’. It’s a beautiful thing). We all cleaned up, got food, and rested well for the next days ride.

This is a nice time to mention our film-making friends. Sergio is the main person in charge, but he also has a faithful crew of Oscar, Eric, and Juan. Sergio isn’t in Morelia with us, but the other three are. At nearly every show, they come out and set up recording gear, for audio and video. It’s still exciting to me, but I’m nearly over the inital discomfort of having a camera and boom mic around us at all important events. They are all very cool and most speak english pretty well. Although, we have to pretend that they are invisible when they’re working, they really are a huge part of our experience here in Mexico. It’s been great having them around. 

On Tuesday, Feb. 26th, we left the plush Hotel de Cotija, rode out of town and headed onward towards Morelia. I don’t remember a lot of this ride. I think it was the slightlysloped mostly uphill ride with nothing interesting to look at. It was hot, too. Then, there was a really long and fast downhill with fresh sugarcane in the town below. It all balances out nicely. We all smile in the end! I also, remember having lunch in Periban. The group split a couple liters of seafood ceviche and we all had a few big glasses of freshly made lime water. It was all really good, and lady that served us was super sweet and cute. When I ordered, I said ‘Yo tengo huevos mexicana’ instead of ‘Yo guero huevos mexicana’. She just smiled, wrote it down and got next person’s order. Meanwhile, Brock is busting up laughing at me. ‘You just told her that you HAVE (tengo) mexican eggs, not that you WANT (quero) mexican eggs. We all laughed, but I still enjoyed my mexican eggs. Anyways, It was a very nice and pleasant environment to have lunch. I didn’t want to leave, but I’ll definitely go back there another day. That night, just as the sun was setting, we made it to our day’s destination, Angahuan, an indigenous town at the foot of a volcano, with a lot of hertitage. We pulled into the plaza and began our routine scope the foreign town for our night’s stay. Tobin and Brock got schooled in fútball by the local kids in the plaza, while the rest of looked in awe at the native style and attire. Most of the women were clothed in a blousy skirt which hung to the ground, multiple layers of shirts and shaws over the shoulders, and a wrap-around thing that carried a baby, or groceries, or something (I really don’t know what was in those things). There were multiple loud speakers blaring some other language I’d never heard before… some sort of chat-singing announcements to the entire village. Kipchoge said it was the original, native tongue dating all the way back to their earliest ancestors, and Eco added that the people believed that you’d recieve whatever energy you put out, whether good or bad (even the sounds you used to relate ideas to others). So, they’d sing nearly everything they wanted to communicate. Nobody knew had was being said but something was being said most all the time. Apparently, seeing that the volcano is still active, they also use the loud speakers to warn the villagers of any potential danger. We had dinner (quesadillas, beans, and such) at a local spot with a rugy player from Australia who was sight seeing. We traded stories of each other’s home country, and the band picked his brain while planning our future tour through what he said was the best parts of Australia.. Fortunately, some of the natives spoke english, too, and Kipchoge found us a campsite where we paid a small fee (maybe 5 or 6 dollars, altogether) to camp on a man’s land across the street from the restuarant. At five in the morning, some of the group walked down to the ruins of the old city below the volcano. I got some much needed rest. Only the chapel’s bell tower stuck up above the solid, cooled lava. They went into the church and saw that the lava, which was nearly ten feet high at the door of the chapel, had stopped right in front of the alter. The lava didn’t touch the alter at all, but came within only a few feet from it. Amazing! Funny, not many of the locals said hi or waved back to us as we rode our bikes through their village and spent money. Damn Gringos! However, they certainly did make good use of modern day gas-guzzling, environment-harming Ford and Toyota trucks. hmmm…

Wenesday, Feb. 27th, we left this little town to continue our journey. I know we stopped in the guitar capital of Mexico, Paracha, for a few hours in the early afternoon. Oh yeah, long ago, a priest (whose name is unknown… to me) went to many towns and designated each to focus on producing a different good. Some were furniture towns, wool linen towns, toilet towns (just kidding, but you get the point). Another seque… I think there’s a shortage of toilet seats (the ones that go down so you don’t fall in the water) in Mexico. Anyways, Paracha is the main guitar producing city in all of Mexico. Lots of cool guitar stores. Most of the shops were closed for the afternoon siesta, so I joined in on that party and took a nap on a park bench after having some chicken from the market. Tobin and Chava (our friend that joined the tour in Sayulita, let us crash his mother’s home in Guadalajara, and is super helpful with merch and stage set up) both bought new guitars from one of the most reliable and legendary local luthers. They are both unique and sound great. I was having a nice, peaceful nap on a plaza bench, until I was woken up by a young man, speaking spanish to me and shaking me back and forth… not happy. Honestly, I think he was a little mentally challenged. Later,  I found him to be very sweet as he enthusiastically sang song after song with Toby and his new guitar. Soon, we packed up and rode on to the next town to crash for the night. It was very late at this point, as we pulled into the town of Cheran, and we still didn’t know where we were to camp. There were some empty lots that we’d passed but we didn’t have permission to stay on any of them or have a fire for dinner. No matter… we went on down the road to an open store to buy pasta, and vegetables for our campfire dinner. The lady there had four children, all very friendly, especially the youngest, who was four years old. He was so adorable and somewhat outspoken. Eco showed the kids on the map where we’d traveled and where we were going. The little one would mock her words and actions and then give her a big smile. So funny. It turned out that (somehow, I don’t speak spanish well enough to know how) the lady there knew that we’d be fine to stay at the empty, corner lot, which was only a block away. A man she knew brought use firewood and she gave use oil and salt to cook with. The magic again! People, on their way home for the night, would oddly look at our bike/campfire scene as they walked and some would stop by for a minute. Kipchoge sang and played songs for them, and the kids from the store. Everyone was so kind and accomodating. Even the local cops stopped by and said they’d patrol the area periodically for us. The next morning, I had another first for my life… I sat in an out house and took care of my business. Kipchoge thought it was so funny that I’d never done that before. In the past I’d probably just waited cause I knew I’d be near a toilet soon. Anyways, the whole town was a great experience for all of us.

Okay, this next town was a two nighter. (Thursday and Friday, Feb 28th and 29th)

Sometimes, it’s hard to recall some of the rides. Granted, some days are personally better than others; some paths are full of life while others are boring; the roads themselves vary, too. However, I remember this one. It was full of beautiful landscapes, livestock, valleys, and mountain range views. Brock rode way ahead this day. I travel behind him, but far enough behind that I didn’t see him all day, while also far enough in front of everyone else that they weren’t in sight either. So, basically, I had the whole day to ride at my own leisure and pace. The roads were marked pretty well, too, making me feel quit comfortable riding alone like that. I took a video phone for my aunt, Melody (she loves horses), of a beautiful horse that was galloping around it’s lot for a long time, making various horse sounds. It was so pretty to see that rigth there on the side of the road. Actually, livestock was all over the path. I tried to film a mama horse with it’s baby that was walking down the street without any human near it (just casually walking around the country side together), but when I pulled out my camera, I startled the little one and the mama horse looked at me a little funny. I figured it best to leave them alone and for me to just enjoy it in my heart. I saw four, really tall tornado-looking spirals in a dusty field. They were dancing and playing together all over the field. Later, on that same road, I found a short bull horn and an American silver dollar right near each other. The silver dollar had a hole in the top of in like it was to be wore as a necklace. I kept them both. I stopped to have a torta for lunch during the heat of the day. The lady there was also very sweet to me and we had fun trying to talk to each other. Refreshed and refueled, I rode on for a while until I came to a split in the road with a sign that I didn’t know how to read. So, I pulled over and took a nap on the side of the road in the sun. After a while, I saw the rest of the crew coming up the road. I learned that both ways lead to Patzcuaro, our destination city, both one was a toll road and the other was free. The toll road was a high road that winded through the forest, and the free road was a low road that had a nice view of the lake. Eco exclaimed, ‘I feel free’ and heading downhill on the free road. It was a very nice ride with a lot of up and downs. We got to the base of the city but still had to climb up a really long, narrow, trafficy, road to the plaza at the top. I was exhuasted from the nap in the sun (smart guy here). We all met up and had some water and grub. Soon, we learned that the place we were to camp was back at the bottom of the hill. Too late to complain about it, just enjoy the ride down. We got to the campsite area and there was some comfusion about our accomadations. The confusion was that we heard it had hot water. The lady that ran the cabin grounds informed us that it didn’t have any running water at all, that they were having a problem with their water. We set up camp, walked to the closest taco stand, ate, and hurried home to get some sleep. The next morning, Friday, I took everyone’s laundry to the lavanderia, and looked for a gym or public bath where we could get a shower. No luck, but when I got back to camp… like magic… the water was running and we all got hot showeres in one of the cabins which the lady made available to us. Somebody from the paper was interviewing Kipchoge and Eco. I love seeing that. They both do such a good job with the reporter’s questions. That night, we played a great show at the Grand Plaza of Patzcuaro, for a great crowd. Everyone in the band kept using the word ‘fuzzy’ to describe the feeling on stage that night. That’s a good thing, by the way. Fuzzy is good! I was exceptionally fuzzy because I found out that my oldest brother, Jimmy, and his lady, Mandy, had blessed the world with my first neice, Dorothy Marissa May. I can’t to meet her. I’M AN UNCLE!!! It’s so cool to me. Okay… Anyways, back to the story…  In the plaza, after the show, we met Andrea, a local of Patzcuaro. We invited her to ride with us the next day and she said sure. Andrea has been super helpful with the cd cases and encouraging other’s creativity. We’re all waiting to find out if she’s going to continue to Mexico City with us or not. A lot of cool poeple were there to see us play. In fact, we all went back to the beautiful home of another good, new friend of ours, Monica. She, her daughter, Lorraine, and some of their cousins and friends, welcomed us in and gave us Mescal and pizza from the plaza. Mescal is a yummy alcoholic beverage, a little bit like Tequila but more calm, with a very deep, internally warm buzz. A pal of hers had given her a huge jug of it, so she sent us on our way with a water bottle full of it. Two nights ago , we ran out, but she came to Morelia last to see us play and brought us more. What a sweetheart! We were at her house til very late in the morning, singing, playing guitar and drinking Mescal. Monica’s son, Roberto came home with a few of his friends, which Monica called her other sons, and they all joined the party, too. So much fun fun FUN!!!

Saturday, we all got up at a reasonable time, with no hangovers, and biked 60 kilometers to Morelia with our new friend, Andrea.

Alright… This is where my last blog, entitled ‘MORELIA!!!’ picks up. Keep an eye out for my next post. It’ll cover more of Morelia and the shows we played here. Talk to you soon.

Blessing and/of Love,

Jared

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 5th, 2008 at 7:35 pm and is filed under Bicycles, Music, Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.