Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

A very early start (wake at 5am, load bike, breakfast and in the saddle, ready to go by 6am) and we're finally on the road again. Leaving the Sheraton with its lovely pool and heading out, all of us in convoy (now just the 17 bikes and one Transit with Kenny gone), all waving to Sandra stood looking lonesome in the hotel car park, we leave town and head out onto the Interstate as the sun starts to rise. A short ride takes us onto the long, straight, road to the border at Douglas. With a quick stop for a “fluid adjustment” and to re-fuel, and we're there at the US departure point, parking up under cover of the sun. Here we hand over the white exit-slips from our passport to confused US border guards who can't seem to grasp that we don't need them because we're not returning to the US (at least, for some considerable time). Then we're off, heading to where the signs read “Mexico” and are in Spanish first, then English...

And as with many other borders, crossing this one is stepping through a door into another universe... the road condition deteriorates immediately, with broken tarmac and potholes everywhere, the cars are old and battered with bald tyres, the people dark-skinned and poorer-looking. We're directed round the back of the immigration and customs building, which itself looks like it's about to fall down, into a rough dirt parking area round the back. Dismounted, we dump our jackets and helmets in the van and seek shade, whilst Kevin heads off into the building to suss out the process we all need to follow. Whilst we wait, we look like prisoners about to be executed by firing squad, lined up against the wall in the only shade around...





Kevin returns and outlines the process, and we all troop into the building, documents in hand and trying to adopt the latin-American attitude, that all things take time, there's no rush, and relax. It turns out to run pretty smoothly, as we first get a tourist entry slip from one guy, then go and get photocopies of our passports, driving licence, the form we've just been given and our V5 (licence for the bike) – which costs $1 – then to another window to get a permit for entry for us which we have to pay for with a credit card in our name (both costing around $20). With that done, we return to the first guy to get the tourist entry form and our passports stamped, and then we're done. Final job being to peel off the very attractive permit sticker and attach it to the window of the bike – this will be checked regularly as we pass through various military and police checkpoints to prove the bike is in the country officially. We then stash the rest of the documents on the bike and return to the shade to wait until the rest of the group has been processed.

Around 2 hours after we arrived, we're back on the road, heading out of town slowly – getting used to the traffic and the road layout and seeking out the almost hidden “Alto” (Stop) signs. Once clear of town we're back on open highway, riding through scrubland, over a couple of hills and then along some very long straights, attention wandering and trying desperately to keep focused as the heat and boring road make falling asleep at the handlebars a real possibility. Then we're forced awake again as the lead bikes' brake-lights shine brightly and we all cruise to a stop – a checkpoint, and this time we have to stop. The soldier then proceeds to walk down the line of bikes, holding a black plastic device with what looks like a car aerial horizontally mounted on the front. Once at the back of the group, he turns round and walks to the front, then waves us on our way. I've no idea what the device was, or what he was looking for, but relieved he didn't find it. At another checkpoint we're asked for the blue form that the bike's permit was attached to, so all dismount and start rummaging through our panniers, only for him to be told by another guard that he didn't need to see them, and we're waved on our way again... Entering some hills we encounter a convoy of trucks, which start overtaking one another, on blind bends and where solid double-yellow lines in the centre of the road are meant to discourage such behaviour. They all make it, though, and as the road opens up, we start to overtake them ourselves. That's when I first encounter another strange Mexican driving practice... one that scares me shitless... they indicate left to let other traffic know it's safe to pass... so whilst they'd indicating to turn into your path, you pull out and go past... I made doubly, then trebly, sure there was no where for them to turn, except directly into a field through a fence, before making my move, and breathed a huge sigh of relief once clear of them...

Finally, we stopped at a small town called Janos for lunch, glad to be able to get off the bikes and eat something to get our metabolisms working again, the early start and straight roads resulting in drooping eyes and poor concentration. The rest stop at the side of the road was rough and ready, but hungry I ordered a couple of tacos with some green chili and a Sprite. It was delicious, hot and spicy, with the meat very tender... so I had 2 more... and the whole lot cost me 50 pesos, or about £2.50... cool...





From here it was a short 45-mile ride to Neuvo Casa Grandes and the Hotel Hacienda, and very soon were were parked, unpacked and in the swimming pool. A couple of cold beers to celebrate our arrival in Mexico and then back to the room to work on the blog for yesterday before heading out into town for dinner. We found a small bar and had a beer, enjoying the rough nature of the place and the strange looks we got from the locals (including the 2 large gals behind the bar, who looked as though they might be looking for 'work'), then went to the restaurant next door for what turned out to be a very disappointing meal (I should have followed my instincts and insisted we seek our something more rustic-looking, but there were others from the group already eating there).

And so back to the hotel and bed, our first day in Mexico over... tomorrow we head deeper into the country, and hopefully stop riding as one big group...