Leading up to the Day of the Dead sugar skulls and plastic wreaths abound in every town. Our little group of cyclists slowly plod their way up to the town of Angahuan, Michoacan at the edge of the lava flow of the volcano of Paricutin. Purepecha announcements echo across town like some kind of continuous chant, people scurry about town buying flowers and wreaths in preparation for the celebration of the Day of the Dead. The atmosphere in the cemetery is not somber. The whole community turns out to tidy the graves and make their offerings spending the evening and day with their dearly departed. Kids run and play. Prayers are made. Food is shared. Plates of tamales are extended to us. The feeling is overwhelmingly warm and welcoming.
It has been silent here a long while, but being in Oaxaca through Guelaguetza it is hard to keep quiet - especially through all the fireworks and festivities. Wandering amidst the carnival of colour and the hopeful energy that flows at events like this, it is difficult to understand the hesitation anyone might feel about coming here. As in life, if you keep your eyes and your heart open, Mexico is as beautiful as you allow her to be.
Mexican bakeries abound even in the smallest of towns. Most evenings the aroma of baked goods wafts out into the streets tempting passersby to load up on what are mainly sweet breads. I have learned over the years that, for Mexican bread to be at all enjoyable, it really must be eaten the day it is purchased. In my opinion, breads here look and smell a lot more exciting than they taste. They certainly do come up with a good variety of shapes for their breads, but I have yet to discover a huge variance between their flavour and texture. Perhaps with time, I'll be better at discerning their subtleties. For now, I'll keep following those aromas and will never resist a roll that comes out of a wood burning oven - especially one that is lovingly created by a happy fat baker.
What would life be like in a world without cars? A half hour boat trip through islands that are little more than tree tops takes you to the Island of Soyaltepec always remote, but now exceedingly remote since the flooding of the Temascal Reservoir. One benefit of the dam is that all 500 of Soyaltepec's residents have electricity, but the roads are grass or mud and stone and donkeys traffic all consumibles from the turkey studded wharf to the town at the top of the half hour climb. After days of rain the locals are pleased to see strangers picking their way along the muddy tracks towards the summit of their island. Local women proudly promote their embroidery, a local drunk keeps a good tune on an avocado leaf, livestock roams free and the 18th century church has the best view on the island.
To the right off Highway 182 just past the village of Surprise and some 7 kilometres down a cement road surrounded by blue waters and idyllic pastureland is a tiny slice of Oaxacan paradise. The pace is slow, everyone acknowledges you as you walk by, and you hear Mazatec more than Spanish in the streets of San Pedro Ixcatlan. Some thoughtful soul decided to share this dreamlike village with the outside world by building a hotel at the top of town's most distant hillock. Spend a few days nourishing yourself on seafood and basking in the simple beauty of the surrounding islands.
The gentle road that winds it's way along the banks of the Papaloapan river through groves of rubber trees and sugar cane is a welcome reprieve as we enter the wide open and warm country of the Mazatec people. Embroidery abounds, fields are fertile, and the weather holds out allowing some of our clothing to almost dry.
Leaving behind the Tuxtepec's paper mills and the largest brewery in Mexico, we turn west and make our way to a little visited gem in a forgotten corner of Oaxaca state: the 1000 islands. Fish, fish, and fish abound and are the main way of life for these people who just 55 years ago grew mainly cotton, coffee, and rice. Sleepy San Pedro Ixcatlan pokes out into the flood waters of the Miguel Aleman dam or Temascal reservoir and nestles itself nicely alongside the imposing presence of the Mazatec holy mountain Cerro Rabon.
It's not that there has been no sun on our little turn through the north of Oaxaca. We left the valley with the sun on our backs, but when the clouds roll in and you're at altitude the only way to escape the cold is with a hot beverage, a heavy blanket, and/or a fireplace. Homes are not heated in Mexico the way they are north of the border. When it is cold, it's cold. We still managed to pull ourselves out from under our blankets on our rest day to head out by mototaxi for a small sampling of the biodiversity of the forests of Sierra Juarez.
I stalled out. For some reason I got stuck and could blog no more. Not even cycling in the highlands of Michoacan or along the Pacific coast could pull me out of my slump. I was unwell while exploring our new Oaxaca route a few months ago and between guiding tours and moving in to our new place I have had little energy to spare since, but I'm back and reinspired by having nearly completed this new Oaxaca route with our first group of riders.
Here I return us to that climb from Oaxaca to Ixtlan de Juarez and on to Cerro Machin and Pelon and then that tremendous 3000m drop down into the spongy lush Papaloapan basin. We thought it was epic having done it in the rain and fog and then the dark, but this time we got to add the presence of ice and snow into the mix. Perhaps it is just a really mean mountain that doesn't really like to give up cyclists to the other side? All I know is: blankets can be hard to come by when it is cold and rainy in a place that is always hot, and clothing that varies from wet to damp isn't much fun at all.
Stopping for a quiet lunch outside of Tuxtepec we take notice of a curious goose keen on clean bicycles. His bike worship went on for many, many minutes until I shooed him away once he started to reef of the cables of the bike. He didn't move far though he simply waddled over to the next bike to cuddle up and gaze longingly.
Earlier I said we were going to cycle this route the opposite way when we offered it as a tour.
You see, Basil cycled this road a decade or so ago and his memory was almost as foggy as the middle part of this day's ride. Leaving Ixtlan we believed we had 17km of uphill to be followed by a beautiful long downhill to almost sea-level, but much to our surprise 17km became 40km, and as a result, the ride became not so easy. It didn't help that our very late departure put us at only half way down the mountain by nightfall. Our only blessing was that the rain and the fog gave way leaving us a beautiful, dry, newly paved road that delivered us safely into Valle Nacional.
In the end, the amount of work that went into this day's longer than expected climb and our rolling (not always downhill) 3000m drop made us realize what a death march this ride would be for most fully-loaded bike tourists if cycled the opposite direction. For most such a ride would be simply impossible. Therefore we will indeed drop 3000m instead of climbing them. That drop will take us through pine-oak forests and into stunningly lush tropical hardwood jungle that is fed by water that trickles slowly and then cascades down the walls of the surrounding mountains eventually turning into tremendous rivers that gush out into the Papaloapan Plain. Corn, tobacco, coffee, rubber, sugarcane, and pineapple fill the valley and spill out towards the state of Varacruz. In Valle Nacional, surrounded by descendants of the Chinantec people, we eat empanadas and relax.
A day was taken to explore the communities and trails around Ixtlan de Juarez where everyone and their dog's fleas are named Juarez. In this exploration Basil and Alejandro came upon what might be the most perfect egg. Fried on a flat clay grill (comal) rubbed with salt this egg never met a drop of oil but it was coupled (quite beautifully I might add) with a fresh piece of the peppery anise flavoured leaf known as hoja santa. Bring it together with handmade tortillas and and this humble breakfast gets my label as the perfect egg.
Oh, and there are some pretty sweet forest trails out here as well, but those eggs!
We awake in a tidy, but roughly hewn wooden cabin in the village of El Punto almost 1000m above the Valley of Oaxaca. Outside the sun blazes down the lush hillside that leads to our cabin evaporating the thick layer of dew that has fallen overnight. We layer up in preparation for the remainder of our downhill before climbing back up to Guelatao the humble birthplace of Mexico's most beloved President, Benito Juarez.
From Guelatao it is a steep ascent to sleepy Ixtlan de Juarez once famous for it's cochineal industry. The Churrigueresque churches are the only testimony to the wealth that the highly sought after vibrant red dye of this insect brought to the area. Like Baroque on steroids the interiors of these churches drip with colonial excess. After silver, cochineal was once the second export of Mexico. It is difficult to imagine this simple town created so many millionaires.
Today it's wealth lay in the biodiversity of its surrounding forests. The WWF rates it amongst the 17 most biodiverse ecosystems in the world. All of Mexico's big cat species can be found here. Thankfully the Mexican government has invested a great deal in the development of ecotourism in this region and the surrounding communities take their role in this development very seriously.
Okay, Okay, we're back. I've finally come out of my long travel slumber and am ready to return to Mexico. Well, I've actually been here for a few weeks, but it's time to get on with talking about it. What inspires this? Why riding of course! We are making a quick turn of Oaxaca's Sierra Juarez to tweak the details of our Journey to Ixtlan tour that we are promoting for January 2010 - which is coming up fast.
After two years of bike touring inspired homelessness we've rented a spot to call home in Oaxaca. It needs a little TLC, but one of the main reasons we love it (apart from the garden and the terrace) is that 3km of pedalling has us plodding up into the steep folds of the very Sierra we are currently exploring - and I won't lie, those folds are steep. Fret not though, if you're thinking of joining us on tour, just for kicks and extra challenge right now we are riding the route backwards. Our intended route will go the other way round.
There is something crisp and magical about getting away from people and up into the mountains. It's as if getting away from all the noise and cement of the city distills my focus down to what is truly important. It is a great way to clear your mind. It is also a great way to enjoy some simple but delicious grub. Mid climb we stop at Linda Vista to look back on the Valley of Oaxaca and to enjoy some trout and some of the tastiest tostadas I remember eating.
I've been silent here for a while, but as our travels in Greece wind down and my thoughts drift back to Mexico I have a few things to highlight...
Mexiphobia is really on the rise this year. I arrived in Greece just as the Swine Flu media frenzy exploded, and, with the amount of travelling I had just done, I have to admit that I felt a little unsettled about my potential exposure. However, as the brouhaha developed I became increasingly more and more annoyed. Basil did a little research and revealed that half a million people die every year because of the regular seasonal flu. Five million per year are hospitalized for severe symptoms. As the World Health Organization escalated the H1N1 virus to Pandemic level, tourism in Mexico plummeted yet the death rate for those catching this flu doesn't even come close to normal seasonal flu levels. The global death toll currently hovers around 300. At least the overzealous US fascination with the habits of Mexico's drug cartels has lost some of its media shimmer. I refer you to The Truth About Mexico as a good resource addressing the Mexiphobia that is running rampant in the USA and Canada.
Thanks to Shelly for forwarding this video about Swine Flu. This just made me grin and gave me hope for humanity.
And last, but not least I'd like to just put forward a little 'food for thought'...
Maybe, just maybe H1N1 is a call to seriously pay attention to how our food is being produced. Could it be that our drive to produce cheaper and cheaper meat is making us sick? Surely it isn't just coincidence that Mexico's outbreak started next door to US owned Smithfield Corporation industrial pig farm. Between the toxic manure lakes and the dirty confined quarters these animals live in, perhaps the filth of our agri-greed is catching up with us in the form of H1N1. I love meat, but I'd happily eat less of it, pay more for it, and be proud to know my farmer was raising my food in a sustainable, healthy, and environmentally non-damaging manner.
I'm not alone in this, Avaaz.org recently delivered a petition to the WHO in Geneva demanding global investigation and regulation of factory farms. The reaction of the WHO is interesting and can be read here.
We love to cycle and we love to eat. Fortunately these two things go well together. Lately we've been doing this in both Greece and Mexico. I try desperately not to buy books or handicrafts, but they always make their way into the plethora of unnecessary goods I carry with me. I always have room in my panniers for one more hat.
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