Puerto Escondido Bound

3 days of pedalling with pilgrims has prepared us for the beach especially as things heat up with our considerable loss of altitude. A great deal of this day is downhill, but it still manages to take most of the day and incorporate an impressive amount of steep cycling. We generally arrive in Puerto Escondido just before sunset, and there is no better way to cool a cyclists weary legs than a long soak in some world class surf. Naturally, world class surf draws world class surfers, and fans of surfing, and, for some pop culture reason, a lot of Italians. This is okay as it introduces some unexpected variety to our regular run of delicious Oaxacan cuisine. We load up on pizza and pasta and spend a few desperately anticipated lazy days at the beach.

Juquila

The loudspeaker near the church calls people to mass, to the public phone house to receive a call from a loved one, or to meet their group at a speciied location. The 8th of December is Juquila's day and crowds crush through the area under the maze of tarps that make up Juquila's serpentine market of religious mementos, artisanal sweets, household items, and other goodies. This serpentine market leads to the church courtyard which is packed with devotees who have come to request a miracle of the Virgin. Inside, the pews have been removed from the church and people stand shoulder to shoulder gazing upon the tiny icon who stands on a platform high above the crowds. The faithful have journeyed from far and wide for this opportunity to attend mass and make their personal request of the miraculous Virgin of Juquila. Parades seem to explode out of nowhere. Juquila is a colourful whirl of tradition and celebration. Try not to get lost in the chaos!

Patience is a virtue

Even after the sun is up it takes a while before the rays break over the steep mountains that surround Juchatengo. In spite of this, the wood fires are burning and the stacks of sugar cane and coconuts are readied for a day of receiving pilgrims. Most traffic on the road is pilgrim related and while spirits are high most heads are down working hard at conquering the final big climb before Cerro de Vidrio.

You think the hard work is over when you reach the junction at Cerro de Vidrio, but there is still more to come once we turn off the main road. Yes, it is downhill into Juquila, but, after the daggers that were furiously hurled at us from the exhausted eyes of our first pilgrimage group, we learned that the part that proceeds the downhill should be more accurately described as a little more severe than the flippant "rolling up hill" label we originally gave this section of road. So, it's a continued tough ride up some suprisingly steep segements before this ride finally drops down dramatically into a carnival of religious activity that can be almost as challenging to wade through with a fully loaded bike as it is to pedal it over the mountains that brought us here. Any feedback on this from past riders???

Sweet and Simple

The road through Sola de Vega bustles with pilgrims. It is barely daybreak and the many temporary eateries that have cropped up to service the raging hunger of so many cyclists and walkers are already open. The shops are brimming with oranges, mandarins, sweet breads and cookies - all favourites of the pilgrims. Bike shops, shoe repair, pharmacies, and corner stores are open 24 hours in this otherwise quiet village that, for a few weeks every year, is swallowed up by a river of pilgrims making their way to Juquila to ask for a miracle or to complete a promised return visit to the tiny and highly revered dark-skinned Virgin of Juquila. Many pilgrims have cycled and walked through the night to get to this desination. Some travel carrying large crosses and sacred pictures to be blessed and returned to needy homes and businesses.

This is no easy journey. The trip to Juquila is mountainous. The trip away from Juquila is among the steepest paved roads that we have cycled in Mexio. This morning a spritely young group of single speed cyclists is taking a break before they continue uphill away from Sola de Vega. They eye us with all our strange gear attached to our bikes and our fancy lycra clothes. We eye them with their unencumbered single speed bikes and their blue jeans. It is a treat to be on a road where bikes outnumber cars and where it is not uncommon for people in cars to hand out oranges, sandwiches, or water to the cyclists or hikers they pass. There is a certain contagious energy that arises from sharing this mission with so many others.

Sola de Tlayuda

Making our way out of the Valley of Oaxaca toward Sola de Vega always seems easier than it really is at the beginning. Climbing starts gradually and rolls along gently eventually becoming one continuous hot 10km climb that promptly descends 14km through some of the best Mezcal country in Mexico. In celebration of day one I drown my hunger in Oaxaca's answer to pizza, the tlayuda. I wrap my hands around this plate-sized, crunchy, corn tortilla that has been smeared with refried beans, asiento, and topped with tasajo (beef), stringy Oaxaca cheese, tomatoes, avocado, lettuce, and baked over a charcoal fire. It might be my fierce post-ride hunger talking, but this little eatery easily makes the best tlayuda I've had yet.

Sirens sound as large numbers of pilgrims make their way past our roadside table, through town on their way to or away from a visit with the miraculous Virgin of Juquila a few long mountain ranges away. We prepare to turn in for the night to rest up and join the wave of people making their way to Juquila.

Alebrije Love

When I was 18 I remember wandering around a large department with a $50 christmas gift certificate from grandma. I wandered around for a long time not seeing anything that even remotely interested me until I hit the bargain table where I saw four chunky, wonderfully imperfect, cobalt blue bottles made of blown glass. It was love at first sight and I bought all four.

Maybe I identified with their rough, but solid presence. Maybe I was drawn to how real they felt compared to my overly processed middle-class Canadian world. I'm sure grandma hoped I would buy something more practical like towels or sheets, but I was 18 and I couldn't see beyond these beautiful crudely crafted blue bottles. When I got them home and studied them closer I saw a sticker that would change my life forever "Hecho en Mexico".

My next serious Mexican love was alebrijes and alebrije love eventually takes you to Arrazola, Oaxaca. In Arrazola, some 50 years or so ago, a man named Manuel Jimenez who had started out making masks for Dia de los Muertos decided to use his wood carving talents a little less traditionally and started carving and painting fantastical creatures. These creatures quickly became widely acclaimed throughout Mexico and the world of museums and collectors. Today the town devotes itself to the making of alebrijes.

Green copal wood from female trees is favoured for its softness and lack of knots. It is roughly carved first with machete and then the finer details are worked in with smaller knives. Limbs and tails are often added after the wood has had time to dry and harden in the sun. After the sculpture is sanded, women customarily add the finest details by painstakingly painting these critters with electrifying patterns and impossible colour schemes.

The only problem with visiting Arrazola as a bike tourist is the difficulty in transporting alebrijes of any consequence by bicycle.

Tejate!

So there is chilate from the costa chica made of rice, cacao beans, cinnamon, and sugar and then there is the cool cacao based Oaxacan beverage that out cools the coolest of all cacao based beverages: tejate.

What makes tejate so special?

For me, it's the fluffy, foamy, goodness that floats on top. Basil says it's cacao butter, but I say it is the truly unique ingredient - cacahuaxochitl, or rosita de cacao, which is a flower that comes from a tree found only in San Andres Huayapam. The subtle details of this beverage making process is a culinary art form whose proud tradition has been passed down from mother to daughter for generations.

The cacahuaxochitl flower is ground up on the metate along with toasted cacao, cinnamon, and mamey seeds. This is mixed in with previously boiled and ground down corn and wood ash. A doughy mass is formed to which water is slowly added. The masa is laboriously blended by hand, wrist, and forearm into a liquid with a slightly earthy and amazingly rich and creamy, all-natural, non-dairy foam. Served chilled, with a little sugar water, in a lively painted gourd cup, one taste makes it easy to understand why it was considered a pre-Hispanic drink of the gods.

Sold in markets all over Oaxaca City and in close neighbouring towns, it is difficult to walk past the giant seductively foamy ceramic bowls without having a gourdful.

God Bless Grapefruit

We have delved further into the question of sheep (oveja) and lamb (borrego) and it turns out that in Mexico they do indeed say borrego for both. In Spain they don't and who the heck knows what they do in all the many other Spanish speaking circles.

This brings up so many other confusing questions, but for now I'm inclined to focus on citrus: why are limones and limas totally different things in Spain than they are in Mexico? I would love to know who is getting it backwards and why.


In Spain, a limon is a lemon and a lima is a lime. In Mexico, a limon is a lime while a lima is some other citrus fruit altogether and I have yet to see a lemon here. If you're in the Yucatecan part of Mexico, then (to add to the whole citrus mix up) a sweet orange is very commonly called a china (a mayan word) and less commonly a naranja (Spanish) naranja agria, however, is a sour orange used to marinate some delicious Yucatecan meat dishes. The good news for me is that, so far, a grapefruit is a grapefruit is a grapefruit – toronja. I'm partial to this Spanish word as it always has and always will make me think of Toronto which is where I spent a good chunk of my happy and less confused young adult life . I'm thankful that the toronja hasn't entered the great citrus debate. Bless you grapefruit for being so straightforward and delicious.

Feeding Basil's Pet

Basil bikes with a pet. It lives in a jar and feeds on milk.

This means that the quest is on for finding milk everywhere we go. We are always either finding milk or finding how to store milk and timing feedings just so. It really doesn't affect me much other than being dragged into a variety of shops looking for milk and occasionally helping out by washing out the milk glass. However, I have witnessed and enjoyed some interesting milk related interactions; the most recent one being here in Oaxaca.

We walk into a fancy organic food shop. Basil spies dairy products in the fridge. He sees a knowledgeable looking fellow standing nearby who seems related to the store. In flawless Spanish he asks if they have sheep's milk. Stunned, the man says tells him that nobody has this kind of milk in Mexico and that such animals are only used for meat and wool here. Basil informs the man that it is found in large quantities all over Greece. Quite surprised the man says that their animals give so little milk that only the farmer could enjoy such a thing. He goes on to explain that the udders are so tiny that they are very difficult to milk. I can't help but giggle when he starts to make very tiny yet defeated milking gestures. We all shrug and Basil and I head off to breakfast.

Basil continues to ruminate this conversation over in his mind and, hung up on the thought of tiny unproductive sheep udders, he eventually looks up his word for sheep: borrego. He is humbled to learn that his flawless Spanish can still get him into trouble. He confesses to me that he learned that he was in fact asking for lamb's milk! After a good snorty laugh we then wonder what the heck the organic food guy was on about? Can you really milk a lamb? Or was he just running with Basil's false claims?

Chilate Goddess Guadalupe

For years I thought Zihuatanejo had one of the most pitiful markets for a city its size. That was until I discovered the REAL market in the farthest reaches of Zihua's sprawling web of market streets. The real market is where all the bits and pieces of what's in season or being freshly prepared in the hills of Guerrero are gathered to sell. What took us there and continues to bring us back to this special street is Guadalupe the Goddess of Chilate.

There are countless ancient beverages prepared all over Mexico and bit by bit we are learning about the subtle nuances of each one. Chilate is a popular refreshing beverage prepared along Mexico's Costa Chica which lies to the south of Acapulco. Thanks to Guadalupe we became acquainted with this rich and nourishing drink in the back alleys of Zihuatanejo. Her chilate is made of ground rice, cacao beans, cinnamon, and sugar. The key to a good chilate is producing a lovely fatty foam of the cocoa butter which really comes out when repeatedly pouring it from on high. The end result: icy cold and dee-lish!

Gracias Guadalupe Goddess of Chilate!

I love Bizihuanas

The "best" bike shop in Mexico happens to be in Zihuatanejo. I might be exaggerating a little as I have far from seen all Mexican bike shops, but I have seen a good many. And, while it's true, I have most recently found the "best stocked" bike shop in Mexico to be in Oaxaca City, the "best" bike shop in Mexico continues to be in Zihuatanejo.

In the spring of 2007, Alejandro significantly amplified his business offering full service repair, a wide of inventory, and mountain bike rentals and tours of all levels. While he has or can get most anything a cyclist might need or want, the most valuable part of his bike shop is his gifted mechanical ability, quick smile, irresistible personality, and his charming wife Lucy who quietly provides the glue that holds the whole show together. Together they are quickly growing the sport of cycling in the Ixtapa/Zihuatanejo area.

If you're in the Zihuatanejo area, stop by Bizihuanas to say hello. Alejandro speaks fluent English and is well-versed in road cycling, mountain biking, and bike touring. His shop can be found at 39 Calle Cuauhtemoc which starts out as a pedestrian street and runs up from the sea-side basketball court (which doubles as town square). Walking in this direction he is on the left hand side. Tell him Cactus Flower sent you.

Arriving Zihuatanejo

From surfer's paradise in Playa Nexpa to Shark Attack zone between Troncones and Playa Linda, surfers arriving to this stretch of Mexico have much to dream about and be wary of.

In Lazaro Cardenas, the local cycling representatives hosted us in a lovely taco feast and then joined us on the early part of our early morning ride out of town. Eli brought along his cycling gifted, long-legged son who dreams of being a downhiller. We enjoyed their company for the first 20 kms before they turned back to their daily routines and we turned forward doing our best to stay ahead of the heat. Our efforts paid off. Before we knew it we were admiring the coconut groves of Playa Linda and meandering our way over one last seemingly endless coastal hill into the hustle bustle of my former home Zihuatanejo

Views of the Pacific

Down zee hill, over zee bridge, uuup zee hill (deep breath in) down zee hill, over zee bridge, uuup zee hill...

This is how Len summarized the 96km ride between Maruata and Nexpa. Now, Len wasn't feeling well and so, for him, this day lacked a little of the regular sparkle it usually has, but his words do accurately describe the see-saw start out of Maruata. However, what he doesn't describe is the explosion of white flowers of the bocote trees which fill the all encompassing forest that engulfs this sinew of Highway 200, he doesn't describe the magpie jays that race alongside as you rhythmically plod along, the scurry of startled lizards in the scratchy dry leaves that fill the shoulder, and the buzz of a full band of roadside cicadas that wax and wane their enthusiasm like baseball fans doing the wave at Yankee stadium. He also neglects to highlight that this day has some of the most arresting views of the Pacific in Mexico.