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Don Sharlow, Hermano De Los
Chisos
Mexico Bound
Packing in a flurry Friday
night, I saluted a couple of friend’s birthday with tasty
Hacienda Reposada Sotol and roared out of Panther Junction,
Big Bend early en la manana Saturday. The ride along the
river road to Presidio was perfect with bluebonnets in full
bloom like manicured flower gardens stretched along either
side of the roadway. Following the seemingly routine
glitches of questionable passports, I.D problems, insurance
and a new glitch which was Marks VIN number was off by one
digit on the Mexican customs computer. We finally cleared
customs at Ojinaga and at that point celebrated our
international venture with shrimp cocktails and huevos
rancheros and of course a couple of cervezas. This would set
our routine for a fabulous 10 day, 2250 mile loop into
northern Mexico encompassing mountains, coast and three
states. Large breakfast, late lunch and a nightly
celebration of world class riding while savoring cold
cerveza caguamas.
Four of us on three bikes went
on to Chihuahua City with familiar but fantastic road riding
south through the Conchos River Canyon country which
encompassed great mountain curves as well as wide open
Chihuahuan desert landscapes. Joselyn Fenstermacher with
Mark Yuhas on his BMW R100RS, Roger Hazelwood from Terlingua
on his BMW R100GS PD and me on my Road King have been
planning this trip for a year now. I could not help
reflecting on and dedicating this adventure to our hermano
Tony Aguillar who we buried just one day before in Marathon,
Texas following a motorcycle accident. We checked into the
Hotel Posada Tierra Blanca on Avenida Ninos Heroes 102,
which was way comfortable and had secure off-street parking
for our bikes. We were entertained by our amigo Eduardo who
took us to a couple of cantinas in the red light district
and for food and beverage before we retired for the night.
The next morning following a hardy breakfast we headed south
out of Chihuahua continuing on to La Junta and turning onto
route 16 to Basaseachi Falls. Beginning our decent out of
the 8,000 foot mountains we encountered non-stop mountain
curves for 2 solid hours. None of us had ever seen anything
like it before. There are large pine forests, the smell of
sawmill towns in the air and many creeks and rivers. We ate
a delicious pork mole lunch at Basaseachi Falls Park outside
of town. Mark rode back into the local town to search out
some beers and found it was a dry town. As he walked
disappointedly back to his bike a man approached, whispered
“clandestine” and pointed to a white house at the end of a
rough dirt trail high up on the hill. He road through
arroyos, creeks, and flocks of chickens where a woman met
him and sold him the “clandestine” cerveza for 90 pesos per
six that would get us through lunch and evening.
Basaseachi Falls was
spectacular with at least a 1000 foot drop into a beautiful
canyon. It was low water but it must shake the ground at
high spring run off levels. Getting into the afternoon we
headed back through Basaseachi town negotiating many locals
on a Sunday stroll, longhorn cattle and the toppes or speed
bumps that we would find entering towns through out our
trip.
It felt good to get back on Rt.
16 and reenter the meditative rhythm of riding endless
mountain curves and hairpins. We encountered a cow in the
middle of the road coming around one tight curve but
fortunately it was in the on coming lane. The road was in
excellent shape but as we cut through various levels of
geological strata, there was one section that caused some
loose gravel around a few curves that kept us on our toes.
Upon entering the state of Sonora new asphalt was recently
laid making for even better road conditions and widening the
smiles on our faces. There was very little traffic on this
route as the main truck route is north and south of here. A
narrow canyon with walls very close struck us as having
National Park like status. We were torn between grooving
briskly through the curves or slowing to gawk at the
incredible scenery. As dusk approached we searched out a
campsite in a cow pasture just off the road and behind a
small hill. After setting up tents, tipping a couple of
Tecate’s and sipping fine tequila we recounted our day of
world class riding, counted the stars and fell deep into a
well earned sleep.
We awoke to cool, crisp
mountain air at the break of dawn and were quickly back in
the groove of carving turns through the shade of large pine,
cypress and oak trees. The smell of fresh milled lumber and
sawdust smoke hung in the morning air as we re-entered the
descending world of rhythmic mountain curves. Definitely
catching a chill from the cool high mountain air we stopped
at Restaurante San Francisco for coffee and breakfast. As
the sun cleared the high ridges and began to warm our bones,
owner Manuel Campas Trevilla showed us his grounds including
one very aggressive white tom turkey and 2 tame deer.
It was a good thing we made so
many turns as it saved rubber on my thinning tread by
burning sidewalls for a good 12 hours. For the better part
of 2 days we negotiated 300 miles of tight mountainous
curves. It would not be for the faint of heart as it
required hours of concentration and the ability to be ready
at any instance for loose gravel, loose livestock and rock
fall. I highly recommend it as a challenging and fulfilling
ride for the skilled adventurous biker.
The final descent out of the
mountains brought us into the blazing desert flats at Los
Palmas. It was time to Stop for a Caguama (quart) of beer at
a thatched roof restaurant in the middle of nowhere amongst
the huisache scrub. Now for the final leg to Hermasillo and
on to the coast. We drove 70 miles per hour for several
hours passing a large Cemex plant. Leading the pack I hit a
railroad crossing too fast suddenly realizing it was
recessed 8 inches into the pavement. I dropped in, stood up
on the foot boards of my Road King as the tail end of my
bike went air born wrenching the right saddle bag off the
connecting pin. It was a good show for those behind me and a
lucky one for me that nothing worse happened.
We made it to Hermasillo for
lunch about 3 p.m. eating shrimp and crab tacos. Que rico!
Now heading for the beach we were all eager for finding a
place to watch the sunset and sip cold cervezas. It was a
long straight shot to Bahia Kino on a two lane road, passing
trucks, cars and bee lining it through inner coastal old
growth saguaro groves. We were able to pitch our tents on
the beach sand under a row of palm trees. I made a run to
the beer distributor, filled my saddle bags with crushed ice
and bottled coronas, pacificos and Negro modelos. Sipping
ice cold beers we watched as a night watchman of the hotel
next door began turning on outside porch lights for
security. They were bright and shining on our tents so as he
rounded the corner of the building I followed him,
unscrewing the light bulbs and bringing darkness to the
beach once again. With a warm salty breeze blowing across
our faces we gladly retired to a restful sleep with the
sound of waves crashing on the white sandy beach.
Tuesday morning I woke up in
the early dawn and took a stroll down the beach. It was very
peaceful with seabirds active in and along the shore. There
were brown pelicans, terns, mergansers, cormorants, oyster
catchers, grebes and many types of seagulls. Walking till
the sun rose over the horizon and hit me in the eyes, I then
turned around with the morning sun warming my back side.
Returning to camp I found a note which directed me to the
café across the street for breakfast with my companeros.
Shrimp omelets, fresh fruit plate, lots of coffee and of
course stories set us up for some serious beach time. We
were in fine form soaking up the sun, turning a quarter turn
every 15 minutes. Some did a little soaking in the Gulf as
others walked along the shore picking up shells and
gathering sand between the toes.
We packed up, ate lunch and
headed south. Stopping at Kino for some bottled water we ran
into two friends from Terlingua. We talked for awhile and
parted only to pass them on the cut-off highway to Guaymas.
There were potholes everywhere making for a good slalom
course through agricultural land. The smell of orange
blossoms was sweet in the air with other fields of deep
green wheat swaying in the breeze. We were glad to join back
into the main coastal highway with four lanes of excellent
pavement heading south to Guaymas. We cut over west to San
Carlos catching a beautiful sunset off the hill overlooking
the bay. Searching, we found a deserted beach on a horseshoe
cove, grabbed a couple of six packs on the way and made our
camp once again to the sound of waves lapping on the shore.
I buried my Hog in the deep white sand calling and wisely
declared camp for the night. We woke to another beautiful
sunrise, waves crashing on soft sand and dolphins feeding
along the shore with pelicans and other shore birds chasing
along as they roll and feed on mullet fish. Four of us
tugged and pulled getting the Hog out of the sand Mark and
Roger wanted to pull it out with their Beamers. A treasure
photo op it was……Not!
That morning we had a filling
breakfast at Rosas in San Carlos before going for the long
haul on Highway15 south to Mazatlan. This highway is a super
4-lane toll way, very fast but very expensive. The cost was
$40.00 U.S. per bike to run the 7 or 8 hours at 70 miles per
hour on the fly. I was as getting low on fuel and daylight
was running out so we exited at La Cruz about one hour north
of Mazatlan. We fuelled up and found that a beach named
Playa Quevedo was within 2 kilometers and a cevezaria was
even closer. Everyone was tired and cranky from the long and
hot ride at highway speeds through genetically engineered
crop fields and occasional smog clouds while classic
bi-plane crop dusters worked into the night. We picked up a
couple six packs with ice and headed to the coast. What we
found was an uninhabited beach with crashing waves, sandy
beach for our tents and a million stars to gaze at. This
was a great crew of riders enduring long hours, high speeds
and no complaints. In the middle of the night I stepped
naked out of the dew laden tent to pee. The phosphorescent
microbes were illuminating the crashing waves. Mesmerized by
the magic, I shivered in the damp cold watching the sight
over and over till I ran for the tent and the warmth of my
sleeping bag.
The morning broke with heavy
dew and salt in the air. We packed up and headed into
Mazatlan for breakfast. I noticed an oil leak from the top
seal of my front head. We were hoping maybe a there was a
Harley dealer in Mazatlan but could not locate one. I topped
off the oil and tied a rag to the front of the head with
bailing wire to keep it from blowing back over the engine.
We headed east on Highway 40 quickly gaining elevation
climbing switchbacks and hairpins though this time busy with
car and truck traffic. There were no guardrails and endless
cliffs lined with crosses and shrines for those who have
passed here before and did not make it. The warm humid
coastal air disappeared almost instantaneously as we crossed
over a pass into fresh dry mountain air. We played games
with the trucks as the three of us came up behind a semi
crawling up the steep grades and into a sharp switchback.
The trucker would hit his blinker and that signaled us to
go. One by one we would quickly pass close to the trucks box
but keeping our eyes as far ahead as we could at all times.
The same for coming into a blind curve we would enter far
outside lane often finding a semi half way into your lane.
We finally topped out on the high plane where there were
many lumber and sawmill towns. Stopping for necessary
gasoline in one small town I asked if fuel was available. An
old local man pointed to a red truck alongside a run down
clapboard shanty. A man came out and pointed to a 55-gallon
drum. We purchased the minimum 10 liters and proceeded to
fill our talks out of a 3 gallon bucket. Thank goodness for
fuel filters. We continued on to the city of Durango after
many more miles of negotiating semis, logging trucks and
cars. We found Motel Mexican on Avenida Noviembre 28th.
It had camping on the grass and secure parking for the bikes
by the rooms. Mark and I tore into my front head to check
the valve cover seals to no avail. We all walked down to the
square for some street vendor food and later stopping in La
Tejas bar for a high class martini night cap. Stumbling home
we crashed hard from a long day of riding and night life.
The dawn brought us to Hotel
Casa Blanca which is famous for putting up early movie stars
during filming of many old spaghetti westerns. We parked our
bikes on the sidewalk next to the hotel for a photo op with
the bell hop. After our routine large breakfast we rode out
of town on Highway 45 approximately 400 kilometers to Parral.
It was an excellent 2-lane back road with open country as
well as curves through mountains and canyons. Stopped by
federales at a military check point in the middle of no
where, they went through our bags being more curious that
anything. When released we drove across the highway to a
small white cabin like restaurant and bar. We drank a cold
beer and enjoyed excellent burritos in the family dining
room. Heading the 45 k north to the Historic town of Parral
we drove though high desert, river beds with water in them
and cattle herded alongside the highway by caballeros. The
light cloud cover held the heat back as we breezed into town
and quickly found the Hotel Camino Real. Parral is an old
mining town with many historic districts, churches, plazas,
gold mines and a strong history with Poncho Villa. We walked
into town finding food, drink and cyber café with espresso.
Returning to the hotel Roger and I sipped Tecate on the
porch and celebrated our final night in Mexico.
Another huge breakfast and then
we headed on the Carreterra Highway towards Jimenez and
Camargo. Our last chance for fuel was in Camargo at the
Pemex. The springs which return the lock-tab on the nozzle
had been removed from all the pumps. It made it difficult
to shut off the nozzle with out previously knowing of the
change. I almost did not get it shut off before my tank was
full but Mark pulled his hose out and could not stop it so
threw it away from him spewing gas all over the place. I was
laughing so hard my stomach hurt but Mark was not humored.
We made our final leg to the border from Camargo to Ojinaga.
It is the Camargo highway better known as the Camino de
Silencia or Road of Silence. The Camino is 200+ miles of
nothing but 2 lanes over desert flats and small passes at
high speeds. The only life we experienced was a man and
woman sitting along side the road about half way into the
highway with a hand painted sign reading Gasolina y Sodas.
We passed another historic mine called La Perla which had
been shut down for some time now and was part of the gold
triangle of Parral, La Perla and Chihuahua. No wonder Poncho
Villa ran wild around those parts. We had a celebration
lunch in Ojinaga at the Buccanero, crossed through Customs
like a breeze and cruised river road lined with wildflowers
back to Terlingua. We went our separate ways in Terlingua as
Mark and Jos headed up into the Chisos. Roger and I
decided to hang in Terlingua and party at the Boathouse with
the Pinche Gringos. I had a wonderful morning ride into the
Chisos. The weather was cloudy and cool with the air sweet
with bluebonnets swaying in the wind, ocotillos in full
bloom with red chile pepper flowers atop and prickly pear
flowering yellow.
It had been a dream trip for
motorcycling with world class riding, unforgettable scenery,
great companions and no problems whatsoever. It was great to
head home and back to such a beautiful place as West Texas
and the Chisos Mountains once again. My bike has cooled down
but my wheels are already reeling with ideas for the next
Mexico adventure. Want to join us? |
