Crikey!

So many reasons to say crikey. Firstly, it's just been a while, that's all. Secondly, my blog is up to date!! I am writing this today, and today's date is on this post. The posts I wrote yesterday, have yesterday's date. So exciting! Thirdly, I just looked at the elevation profile of my ride to Durango...

Crikey!!

May I direct your attention to the elevation profile in the lower right corner of the screenshot. 37 000ft!!! Yikes. I have not cycled up anything even close to that big so far on this trip. AND I haven't cycled in a month, and am miserably out of shape.

So yeah I'm going to take it slow. It's only 311km, but it will probably take 5 days. Who knows, maybe more. I assume much of the cycling will probably be better described as 'trying not die while moving slowly forward and up', rather than cycling. Anyhoo.

For funsies, I thought I would take advantage of the fact that my blog is currently up to date, and share with you the link to my GPS tracking system shared map page here. So if you're interested, you can see my daily progress as I make my way up the mountain. If you the dot doesn't move for a few days, send the helicopters.

Adios!

A donate button

So a few days ago, I put a donate button on this blog. There it is just over there on the right. I was in two minds about this, because even though other bike tourists have them, I couldn't see why anyone would want to give me money for what I'm doing. I have charitable goals, but it's not a 'ride for charity' per se. It's a physical challenge, but it's not something massive like riding from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego purely by bicycle, like some cyclists are doing. I believe in what I am doing, but it is difficult to define. I like to think that I'm doing something good, and that examples, even little ones like mine, can be powerful. However I don't expect everyone to see it the same way, and I certainly never expected anyone to give me money for doing it.

However, a few people along the way have asked me if there was some financial way they could support me. Usually these were people who had already helped me in some other way, so I felt they had already done more than enough. A lot of people asked me if I had sponsorship for this ride, and although I thought about it at one point, I decided not to seek official sponsors. Mainly this was because I felt like my somewhat vague goals (ride south, visit organisations, have adventures) might not have the specific goals that sponsors probably want. And I didn't want to have to conform to specifics.

In the end I decided it couldn't hurt to have a button, and if people want to support me, they can. I'm still not super sure why they would, I'll leave that up to them. I'll just say that I have been going a long time now, without sponsorship and purely on my own savings. What I am doing should be reasonably clear by now, and if you feel that it's something you want to support, then know that that support will be truly appreciated, and will help get me to my goal in Guatemala.

For my first official donation, I'd like to thank my dear mum who gave me some cash to buy a flash new saddle for my bike, which was sorely needed.

Thanks mum!

Helmet, gloves, and flag pole were all donated

One of the many great things about bike touring is that it's cheap. I wouldn't still be going if it wasn't. I'd like to tell you a little about my biking budget, for general interest, but also because you'll have an idea of what donations will go to


Some of the most expensive things about travel are transport and accommodation. When bike touring, your bicycle is your transport, and if you have camping equipment, you don't need to pay for accommodation unless you want to. So they can both be essentially free, and food becomes your main expense. If you have a camping stove, you can carry groceries with you, and cook on the road. This makes it pretty cheap. Of course not everyone tours like this, and some people ride from hotel to hotel, and eat out 3 meals a day. As for me, I use free hosting services like Warmshowers or Couchsurfing, and only use hostels when I need a little respite! I like to buy cheap meals fairly often for variety.

In this way, my typical food/accommodation expenses in US California were around $18 per day, in Baja California they were around $15 a day, and here in mainland Mexico, I seem to be able to live on around $10 per day. This is about $8-9 for food, and $1-2 for bottled water, as nobody drinks the tap water here. Now that I write it down, it seems like a lot, but you do eat and drink a lot cycling with a loaded bike. Throw in the odd paid accommodation, some regular visits to taco stands, and incidentals, and I think I'm spending a little over $100 per week at the moment. Contrast this to when I first started travelling in the US last year, I was spending more than $100 per day! And you could do it cheaper than I'm doing too, some people live on $5/day or less while bike touring.

Anyway, so that's a little snapshot of a biking budget, and what you would be supporting. I still feel a little strange about people giving me money, so I have another idea. There are a lot of very worthy causes out there, to which your money could go. In fact, many of the places I have visited, and will visit, could do with your cash. So, if you would like to donate to some of the organisations I will visit next, simply tell me what you want to donate money for - toys for kids, food, blankets, etc - and I will buy them and donate them on your behalf. I can even take a photo of what you give, and post it on this blog. Another option is to nominate some amount to go to the organisation as a donation, and some to me - for example, 50/50. or whatever.

What do you think? Any other ideas? Let me know - comment on this post or email me! I have added a donations tab to the main blog menu above, and you can comment there as well.

El interior

I feel like I have been navigating a strange space these last few weeks. My compass needle has been spinning, I think. I have only really been able to understand it after recognising that at the end of the Baja peninsula, there was also an end to that part of the trip. There was something about the whole experience from the border to Los Cabos, that I think had run its course. I had done a lot of what I set out to do: I had cycled over 2500km, I had hitched in cars, trucks, and even a sailboat. I had visited over 20 charitable organisations, most of which are now on Open Volunteer, and a few of which are interested in Angel Mule.

With a little under two months left until I have to be back in Oz, what to do with my remaining time has been a little unclear. I have been reading this book a lot recently, and that has helped to clarify things somewhat. I'll try not to bore you too much with my introspection, but I realised a few things. Firstly, that I have been overly preoccupied with certain things, like finding as many charities as I could, and getting as many as possible to sign up to OV/AM. I had also been a little rigid about only cycling or hitching, or doing things in a certain way, and in a certain time. This is all fine, in a way, and for a time, but it had some unintended consequences. This may sound odd to you, but I found, for example, I got a little stressed when I wasn't doing those things as I thought I should. Also it didn't allow for the flexibility for the adventure to flow as freely as it might. On reflection, I also realised that I had not really found a charity doing real medical volunteer work, which was my main interest. Also on reflection, I realised I hadn't been doing much reflection. I think reflection is important all the time, but perhaps especially now for me.

So I have reframed my objectives. They remain similar to before - adventure, travel, charity, etc - but with some differences. I'm not going to fixate on finding as many charitable organisations as I can, as I have been doing, and as has been quite time-consuming, but rather just the ones I come across, and with a focus on medical work. I will travel, but the object will be much more on the journey, less on destinations, and I will try to look inward as much as outward. As for specifics, I will keep Guatemala as my eventual goal - because I think that is where the story ends - and I want to spend as much time as I can on my bike, but apart from that, I will let the rest play out naturally.

After acknowledging that something ended when I left Baja, and after realising what the next, and final part of my journey was to be, the no-man's-land I had been traversing made more sense. The next step is also very clear, and it is sideways. To be amongst the high mountains, in the language of ZAMM, I must ride up into them, and take the steep road from Mazatlan to Durango.

A week at The Funky Monkey, and a day at the dump

Wednesday 24th April - Thursday 2nd May

True to form, I ended up spending a week at the Funky Monkey Hostel, rather than the few days I intended. It was just so good to get a little space, get some time to do some writing, and catch up on Angel Mule and Open Volunteer stuff. I couldn't resist. Plus the crowd at the Funky Monkey were super fun to hang out with, and I even got to check out Mazatlan a little, and see some of its beautiful sunsets.

The Funky Monkey is a new hostel, started by the chilled out Salem, when he saw how few good hostels there were in Northern Mexico. This is the only one in Mazatlan - a tourist town of almost half a million people! I had a great time heading to the beach, sharing dinners, and just hanging out with the other backpackers.

Team Funky

My favourite spot on the roof

Not a bad view from my favourite spot

My most enriching experience, however, was on my last day in town. I had heard there was a good charity nearby, and that they went out to the city dump to feed the poor there on Thursdays. So I ended up meeting up with the organisers, and staying an extra two days to go out and help them with their work. La Vina, or The Vineyard, is a Christian church run by Americans and Canadians, and provides feeding programs to poorer colonias in Mazatlan. They go out several times a week, handing out water, fruit, and tortas (sandwich-ish things).

Bottling the water

The sandwich production line

What concentration

On Thursday, I helped fill and cap 200 bottles of water, and helped prepare 300 tortas in the morning, before heading out to hand them out. We visited a couple of colonias, handing out food, mainly to children who knew about the van. The most striking visit was the city dump. There, around 200 people scour the trash every day, looking for things they might be able to sell to recyclers - plastic, aluminium, etc - or things they can use to build rudimentary dwellings in the nearby slums - usually cardboard, pieces of wood, rope, and rags. They even scavenge some food from there. The people who lined up for tortas and water were in varying states of health and cleanliness, and many had fingers missing, or other physical impairments and disabilities, and ranged in age from teenage to elderly. It was pretty grounding to see the conditions the live in everyday just to get by.

Me and my sweet hat, handing out goodies

The dump

M.E.X.I.C.O.C.U.

Tuesday 16th April - Tuesday 23rd April

So this week was a bit of a blur. I had been looking forward to getting to mainland Mexico, or el interior, because a lot of people told me that Baja is not real Mexico. On the other hand, many of the same people also warned about dangerous parts to the interior, so I didn't know quite what to expect. My initial experience fell into the 'none of the above' category, and was a blur of great people, places, and parties - mainly thanks to couchsurfing. Before any of that though, we still had to get out of the water.

The whole hauling the boat out of the water thing was quite a spectacle. It was all cranes and harness, followed by struts and straps, and all of a sudden you are living on your boat again, just on land this time.

After packing my things, I bade Jay farewell, and rode of in search of my couchsurfing host in Guaymas. I was riding around the suburbs after dark, like I make a point of not doing usually, and I was struck by how safe it felt. People were everywhere, usually staring at the crazy foreigner, and it felt fine. Eventually I found the place I was looking for, met the inestimable Che, who was looking after the place in absence of its owner, and tucked in for the night. I spent the next couple of days resting and enjoying having more than a metre square living space. Che was awesome company, and the CS home was tranquil, calming, and even a little magical. My main concern during my stay was the state of my bike. I had been super worried that the week of being splashed by waves and soaking in the salty Sea of Cortez was corroding away my trip. It turned out I needn't have worried, as the bike was fine, and was soon washed of its salt encrusting and ready to go.

Che! What's so funny??

La casa de Angelica

Farewells at the terminal: Che, me, Fatima, Patricia, y Luis Omar

Che invited me up to Hermosillo, to the couchsurfing reunion there, telling me the scene up there was pretty lively. Indeed it was. I spent two days up there drinking, dancing, chatting, and exploring the town with the local couchsurfers. I met some truly unforgettable people there. It was amazing, but exhausting. I came back down to Guaymas, for a couple of days, getting ready to ride again, and then made a spur of the moment decision to put the bike on a bus to Mazatlan, and book into a hostel for a few days.

In hindsight, I think the last couple of weeks hitching and surfing, living in very close quarters with people who were almost strangers, and having very little personal space, was just beginning to tell on me. I'm a person who needs a lot of personal space at the best of times. So when I realised the road ahead wasn't going to be an interesting to ride until Mazatlan, and hence that I was going to have to hitch-hike with the bike, I just thought screw it, show me the bus schedule. Buses on mainland Mexico are pretty cheap, and I was curious to see how hard it was to take my bike and gear on a bus. Mazatlan was where I was supposed to take the ferry to anyway, so I figured it was fair enough. Also, I had found a good hostel there, which is an unusual thing in northern Mexico.

As I sat on the bus, enjoying what I realised was the first 3 or 4 hrs to myself that I'd had in weeks, it occurred to me that I'd had the authentic experiences with locals I was after - albeit not in the way I had anticipated - and the only danger I had was of not getting enough sleep or time to myself!

On the Sea of Cortez

Tuesday 9th April - Monday 15th April

Somehow, we made it through the night. I can't say I helped all that much, except perhaps providing somnolent moral support from the bench in the cockpit. I find this support role is often undervalued. In any case, as glad as I was that we had survived the night, I realised we still had the crossing of the Sea of Cortez to contend with at some point.

One of many isolated, luxurious, and under-used resorts in Baja. I'm told they exist mainly to launder money.

Sunset in Puerto Ballandra

After sailing through some of the early morning, we anchored in a tranquil little bay, Ensenada Blanca, and ended up spending two nights there to rest up. The first night we were buffetted by more strong winds, but the next night was quiet as. When we got going again on Wednesday, we headed for one of Jay's favourite little anchorages, Puerto Ballandra, with its pristine white sandy beaches. We anchored for the night, and spent the next day cleaning the propellor and the hull of the boat of all the barnacles and muck that had developed over 4 months in the La Paz harbour.

I was rewarded that night with one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time. After dark, I heard a splash and went outside to look with my headlamp. I didn't need any light though, as all around the boat, I saw these faint flashes of green light in the water. As my eyes became accustomed to it, it looked like flashes of lightning within a cloud, but dim and faint and ghostly and green. It was fish swimming around the boat, playing with each other, and causing activation of the beautiful phosphorescence in the water I had seen a couple of nights ago. Some left sharp tracks of green, like shooting stars, others echoed ghostly fish shapes, and some were just a blur. It so beautiful. I can't remember how long I was mesmerised by this underwater firework display.

Sunrise over Isla Carmen

Back in Loreto... what the hell?? I was there on my bike a month or two ago.

The next day we motored over to Loreto to get supplies, and enjoyed going at 5-6kts rather than the 2-3kts we had been getting, thanks to our work in cleaning the boat. We headed up to a nearby anchorage, San Juanica, for the night. The next morning, Saturday, we heard a good weather forecast for the crossing. We had been sticking to the Baja coast, and waiting to get a good weather window to cross over to the other side. Today was the day. It was time to cross the Sea of Cortez.

We set off, and had a good wind to start with. It was 10-15kts and we went along at a good 5-7kts purely under sail. It was a postcard for sailing. At one point some dolphins even swam towards the boat, and when we made some noise by yelling at slapping the side of the boat, they reacted joyfully by leaping high into the air one at a time. It so cool to see them react to us like that!

Some rock formations at San Juanico

Like a boss.

Night fell, and as I watched the crescent moon sink towards the horizon, not long after the sun, I felt much better prepared for this all-night crossing. We took turns at the helm again, and I managed to take a much larger share of the watches than before. There was even a moment, when, steering the boat through the dark ocean using stars near the horizon as landmarks, I actually felt like a sailor.

We arrived in San Carlos the next day, and spent a night there in the beautiful harbour before heading south to Guaymas where Jay intended to haul the boat out. We had done it! We had made the crossing, which had turned out to be much easier than we thought, with none of the crazy winds we had had the first night, and I was finally on the mainland. It was a truly incredible week spent learning to sail, visiting pristine beaches, and experiencing life on the ocean. I was super stoked, and couldn't have predicted how great this 'hitching a ride' would turn out to be!

The 'face' in the rocks at San Carlos.

Not a bad sight at the end of a long journey.

Winds of fortune

Sunday 7th April - Monday 8th April

I have had this romantic notion of being on the sea, which I think is probably the vague product of various stories from books, friends, and strangers. The picture in my head is one of a world removed from the everyday, where there is a deep and necessary connection to the ocean, born of an an immersion in it and dependence on it for success and survival. Weather and fortune determine which of the two will be your goal for the day, and it can vary wildly and quickly from one to the other. The experience of life at sea also sounded so different from what the life I knew. Time slows down, progress is measured in days, rather than hours, and the sky, the sea, and the life that inhabit them - from the bizarre to the magical to the downright dull - become your reality. The next 7 days at sea were to fulfill some of these romantic notions, and dispel others.

The night before we set off, Jay and I had a nervous dinghy ride in choppy water with my bike balanced precariously on the prow. The image of my bike falling off and sinking to the bottom, and the idea of what I would do if that were to occur, were not pleasant to contemplate. However we made it to the boat without incident, and soon Derek was strapped to safely to the deck of Wind Raven, an Islander 44'.

Derek, on the deck of Wind Raven, and holding on tight.

Home for the next week.

I wasn't the only Australian on board!

Jay, and La Paz in the distance

The next morning Sunday, we set off under beautiful but windless weather, so we ended up motoring a lot of the way. It turned out the propeller was fouled for some reason, and we went much slower than planned. As a result, we didn't get to a good anchorage by night, and Jay decided to sail through the night, as he had done many times before. Before night fell, I enjoyed a beautiful sunset, watching the manta rays jumping out of the water. They jump up, sometimes metres into the air, flip, and land with a slap. This amazing sight, described by some as like watching popcorn, is apparently to rid themselves of parasites. So cool. As dark fell I was excited to see some of the phosphorescence in the water I had heard so much about. There was faint green glow to the water where it is churned up by the boat, and it it has this supernatural quality that made me just keep staring at it.

Wind Raven's big sail

Derek getting splashed with seawater. Hm. Beginning to wonder about the wisdom of taking my bike to sea for a week.

You will have to imagine the manta rays and phosphorescence. They are really hard to photograph.

That night we took turns at the helm, with Jay taking a much greater part than I. In the early hours of the next morning, the winds really picked up. It got up to around 30kts at times, and I didn't feel confident sailing through the San Jose channel, at night, with those winds, and with my experience. So I left much of the sailing to Jay. I was amazed at how little any of that seemed to bother him. I particularly remember one moment several hours before dawn, when, with my life-jacket and safety harness on, strapped to the deck with a safety line, I was woken up by yet another large wave crashing onto the boat. I remember looking up and seeing Jay, sailing as if it were still a sunny calm afternoon, as if he hadn't missed a wink of sleep. Respect dude, I thought, I could definitely not do that. 

As fatigue began to overtake me again, I wondered how wise this whole gambit had been. I was here, in the middle of the night, strapped to the deck of a boat in a windstorm, with a fibreglass hull and this guy who I hardly know as the only things standing between me and the bottom of the ocean.

Somehow, I fell asleep.