We left the mini-farm on Wednesday in a maxi-fog with everything dripping wet and we didn’t get on the road until 9:30. Two hours later we’d only gone 13 km. Zoe’s bottom bracket is loose again and making a bad crunching sound after ten days since tightening it in Campeche. To take our minds off the crunching noise we marveled at how the thick green jungle seemed to be receding from all the dusty barren meat-cow ranches.

We stopped in a small puebla (village) called Aguacatal and slept in the only hotel. At a local cocina (taco kitchen) we read in the guestbook the name of a Polish cyclist who rolled thru here less than three months ago. Later we found out that his visa to enter the United States after a long trip northward from South America, was denied.

Parys should have done his homework and applied for his visa before his trip. The sharp border guards are well aware that most Poles who try to sneak into the states usually cycle ten thousand miles to do it. –Steven

Aguacatl to E. Zapata

On Thursday we were on the road by six, nice and early, still dark out for a short time. The first 20 km were great: nice and cool out on a big new clean smooth black road with hardly any traffic for the first 20 km. Then we met some serious construction all the way to the Tabasco border and then no shoulder and a real nail-biter all the way to Chable. 50 km of dangerous truck dodging by 11:00 and then another 25 more more fun cycling kilometers to Emilliano Zapata.

E. Zapata to Palenque

Friday we woke up late and didn’t get down to the lobby of the hotel to check out until 8:00. We woke up the girl sleeping on the couch to give her the key and the first thing she did was walk up the stairs to the bar and finding the door locked she proceeded to piss on the stairs which ran down each one back to the lobby. Walking thru her own urine and still reeking of alcohol, she took our room keys, turned her head and spit a giant fur-ball on the floor next to the desk. Have a nice day!

At 2:30 in the afternoon we were in Santa Rosa eating snacks, watching the green- and blue-eyed cat and soon after that we turned onto a road after entering the state of Chiapas where we were greeted by a large dead iguana that looked like it had been machete’d in the head. We rolled into the city of Palenque around 4:00 pm and a few hours later we were setting up our tent under a palapa in the fine Mayabell resort all the way down the road near the ruins.

As Zoe was moving some rocks she felt a sting on her hand and looked down to see half a dozen small black scorpions underneath. Someone told us that the smaller the more dangerous when it comes to scorpions, not including the Volkswagen-sized scorpions in Merlin, which of course will kill you if you don’t have a large dragon to help you. So we went to the bar and listened to some great music and everything seemed fine.

We finally found a nice lady who was selling quesadillas in big flour tortillas for only seven pesos each so we ordered five. We asked about the strange colorful unlabeled drink bottles in the small refrigerator and found out that they are home-made fruit drinks that most Mexicans prefer over coke but the Coca-cola salesmen do not allow her to put anything other than coke products in her fridge. So she has to be careful and only keep a few of her home-made fruit drinks inside at a time.

We cycled past some cow ranches and watched as the bulls informed us that it is definitely spring time, a time for new love. There were no cattle to be seen in Yucatan as we viewed many of the “for-meat” bovines – not the milk variety. We actually saw the animals grazing amongst the trees and we had to comment to ourselves, “Hey, cows in the forest.”

We spotted a bee farm with 30 – 40 bee boxes and stopped to take some pictures. As soon as we snapped the first photo we started chasing bees from the air around us like two hapless foreigners. These things were aggressive and when Zoe got stung in the face we both screamed, “Go!”

When we finally rolled into what should have been, according to the map, the village of Ojos del Agua (Springs, literally Eyes of the Water) but there was only an occasional house or farm separated by stretches of grass and trees. Since it was getting close to sunset we pulled into a small shop which was actually just a small house with tables and a beer sign out front. We got a couple of cokes and asked the woman who was serving us about where we can find a place to setup our tent for the night. With some amount of maneuvering we were finally offered the back yard to camp, how awesome!

We pitched our tent amongst the turkeys, ducks, chickens, goats, sheep, horses, the pig and the new baby bull. We cleaned up a bit with the ancient practice of drawing water from a well with a bucket, the old Jack n Jill method.

We rolled into Sabancuy about noon and met grande Señor José from Cuidad del Carmen who was pedaling his sweet, silver, well-dialed road bike. He introduced us to his friend and elder riding partner who was himself a seasoned Mexican racer and who, surprisingly, looked to be in his forties but was actually pushing the seventy mark. Lord Have Mercy !

We used the Lonely Planet website to help find the breezy Hotel Aguilar where we paid for one night’s stay. But we quickly made the decision to stay longer and our single evening visit turned into a four nights because the room was just so nice and breezy. The structure’s simple yet functional design of having its window on one side of the room and the door on the other made the breeze flow from outside, thru the room, out into the hallway and directly thru the room opposite and back outside.

We took a ride to the beach to bounce in the ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, actually. As we were enjoying our jumping and floating in the warm surfless waters, we noticed a strange shape just under the water. Was this some sort of debris? or perhaps a bizarre reflection from the surface? Was it our imagination? It was as big as the blankets on our bed blowing in the wind but… this was under water. This was not a shadow and it was not long wavy seaweed – that much we were pretty sure about. “What was it?” we wondered.

As we approached it seemed to avoid us as we started to chase it, to our increased curiosity, laughter and intensity.

STEVEN: I crouched in the waist-high water with my arms wide under the waves to present more of a wall. I noticed Zoe was doing the same thing as we both moved in closer for what seemed like the final push toward the shallows as the ocean moved everything in that direction. The murky water receded with the wave and we had it trapped over the sand. It tried moving toward Zoe but she quickly pushed back.

It became motionless and… seemed to me, to be considering us. I moved closer and a small faction broke away from the rest and squirmed between us, escaping to depths behind us. We turned our attention back to the remaining patch closer to the shore but they realized escape was possible. Just as quickly as we advanced, the slithering mass dissolved around us and back into the safety of the deep.

Sometime later we moved toward town and away from the mysterious encounter on the beach. We made our way back across a long narrow land bridge to Sabancuy and rode by a half dozen young men dressed as army soldiers escorting dogs who sniffed passing cars. Nearby giant round stingray fish were being chopped, sliced into pieces and thrown into morbid piles.

Seeing the collection of dead animals was horrible. Three armed guards stood by while observing the disgusting vivisection. Zoe asked one of the guards if they were making sure there were no fishing industry violations. The man responded by saying, No, we’re just bored.

We pulled into the nearby Internet cafe and saw a great-looking pet parrot just chillin’ and chirping on its perch. There are so many amazing animals and colors here.

To get to Palenque, we could either take a shorter route on the highway through Escarcega or we could take a longer route which travels a smaller road along side the ocean through Sabancuy. The decision wasn’t a hard one especially after hearing stories of the highway being infested with drug traffickers plus… it’s just so much nicer to ride along beautiful sandy beaches. The possibility of enjoying a cooling dip or just taking a break in a pictueresque spot whenever we fancy… as opposed to getting grilled in the hot Mexican sun and smoked up by the passing trucks on an inland highway. No my friends, the decision was easy to make as we chose the former. And as we decided, it was very calming to see the vast majority of big trucks turning left onto the big highway to Escarcega while leaving us the nice sea side road.

As we left the town of Champotón the buildings became further & fewer between while the beach strip itself became quite wide – thank you very much ! The road was in great condition exhibiting a nice shoulder on which to bicycle while sporting very little vehicle traffic. Most of the time we were cycling right along the beach. Only sometimes did the road go inland, a bit; while lush, juicy green bushes separated us from the beach. Our connection to the ocean was undeniable, at times we felt the separation of the meandering roadway from the body of water. Hints of anxiety were soon quelled as the deep blue beckoned the return of the road which she held against her shore. Here we were enjoying the pristine coast of the Campeche state and watching the pelicans and herons hanging out at the water. All the while, we looked forward to arriving at the turtle conservation project.

Bye-bye big trucks, hello lonely bike roads

The beach (with many) rocks!

A succulent plant with pretty flowers.

But what the heck is that appearing in the distance? So cold, square and ugly? We spied an over-abundance of grey concrete and rusted rebar. This monstrosity of construction came into view and destroyed the virgin beauty of our visage ! Hey, where is the turtle conservation camp? We discovered that this massive building project is going to be the Campeche Playa Golf Marina and Spa Resort, a development incorporating 3000 luxury apartments as well as a five-star hotel, commercial zone and medical facilities. It is still in under construction but something didn’t seem right. So much construction and so few workers on a Thursday morning, we wondered if progress on the project had been suspended.

We kept cycling, arriving at the turtle camp just three kilometers south of the monstrous construction site and talked to the turtle enthusiasts there. When we asked about the development up north, caretakers at the sanctuary let their shoulders fall as they shook their heads in dismay informing us that “developed” coastline means destroyed ecosystem. The turtles themselves would probably prefer the coastline to stay “undeveloped”.

Signs at the entrance to the turtle rescue camp: 'Consumtion of turtle meat can be punished with imprisonment'

Main building at the turtle camp - the turtle care takers live in here

The turtle sanctuary at Punta Xen is run by an ecological group called Quelonios and came to be to protect sea turtles, mainly hawksbill sea turtles that are threaten with extinction due to human fishing practices.

The hawksbill sea turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata) is a critically endangered sea turtle belonging to the family Cheloniidae. The species has a worldwide distribution, with Atlantic and Pacific subspecies. [...] E. imbricata is easily distinguished from other sea turtles by its sharp, curving beak with prominent tomium, and the saw-like appearance of its shell margins. [...] While this turtle lives part of its life in the open ocean, it spends more time in shallow lagoons and coral reefs. — wikipedia.com

These hawksbill sea turtles migrate long distances between feeding grounds and hatching beaches. The Campechan 500 km long coastline with its many lagoons and ten (10) turtle sanctuaries makes Campeche the most important nesting site of the hawksbill turtles worldwide. They return here every year around this time of year for a few months to lay eggs on the beach.

After mating in the water, the female turtles crawl out onto the beach during the night, dig nesting holes with their rear flippers and lay up to 250 soft-shelled eggs. This is where the Quelonios come into play. During the “turtle months” they patrol the beaches early in the morning in search of nests. They collect the eggs which could be otherwise dug out by some little mammals and even humans. They carefully transport them to the camp, to an especially designated place they call the “incubator”. It’s just a fenced patch of the beach, where the workers dig holes for the collected eggs. At around 45 to 75 days, the eggs hatch and the little hawksbills are brought to the sea and released.

In nature after the eggs hatch at night, the hatchlings have to make it on their own to the sea, so they follow their instincts and head towards the water. But hey! These little cuties just poked through the egg shell! How do they know which way to go? The moon reflection in the sea water marks their course! Unfortunately being rather awkward and slow they are easy prey for many birds and crabs. This is the most dangerous time in their life and without the help of the Quelenios many of them would never reach the sea.

Hey, which way to the sea? I'm lost! Where is the moon?

These babies are so tiny!

Steven molesting little turtles! You will burn in hell for that!

OK, time for the highlight! Come, I show you the skull of my grandpa. He was a big guy!

The friendly attendant who welcomed us gave us a little tour and explained in detail the breeding process of the hawksbill sea turtles. He showed us the incubator space and a collection of turtle skulls, they found on the beach. These tiny babies can get damn huge!

That´s a big head! It would be impossible to get a hat for this one!

We payed him 100 pesos and had the choice of overnighting in a cabaña or camping under a palapa on the beach. We first opted for the cabnaña and cycled some half a kilometer towards a little cabaña complex that was supposedly part of the camp. The cabañas were really beautiful and fancy… some 10 years ago! Today they are neglected and worn down: the wooden walls dusty and discolored, the fake marble floors dirty, windows busted out, door hinges screwed up, toilet bowls missing in the bathroom, human feces on the bathroom floor, garbage everywhere. The thatched roofs are still in a very good condition. This little resort could be revived with a little help from some hardworking people. Lots of cleaning and a bit of love would do the trick. We were told there are some tourists coming here for Semana Santa (the Easter week) and will be accommodated in these cabañas. Do they know what condition they are in?

After a little stroll around and scaring the iguanas who are now inhabiting this place, we decided to take a nap in the cleanest of the cabañas. We put our insulation mats on the floor and were in the land of dreams in no time. Something tired us out, although today’s 25 kilometer ride was rather short and easy on a flat land. Some two hours later the sound of a car engine woke us up. We peeped through the window and got a bit scared once we saw a taxi and a police car parking in front of the next door cabaña. This resort seemed somehow dodgy from the very beginning, so we decided we will camp closer to the visitor’s center of the turtle camp. These cabañas must be spooky at night anyway. Soon the cars left and we went for a dip in the sea.

The sun was going down, it was time to set a camp for tonight and Zoe said pointing at the family hanging out close to the visitor´s center:

- I have a feeling that these people there will be leaving soon and have some left-overs to give away. A cold coke wouldn’t be bad either.

As soon as we reached the palapa and set up our tent, a Mexican lady approached us asking if we would like some fried fish with tortillas and salsa and some iced coke they couldn’t finish. Hey! Life is great, Mexicans rock and female intuition is underrated!

The generous Mexican family getting ready to leave the beach.

Our dinner!!! How did they know we have no food?

Sunset

Zoe´s bike watching the sunset.

Our little home is set up for tonight.

We were on the road before 6:00 am today and stopped a few times for various refrescos (refreshments). Our ride was a wonderful and cool breeze along the seaside. By 2:30 in the afternoon, we’d traveled close to 60 km and agreed on a well deserved break. So half way between Villa Madera & Champotón we rested nicely in an unused palapa (grass-roofed shelter) by the sea.

Leaving Campeche early in the morning

Cool morning ride from Campeche

Pelicans giving the fish a break

Taking lunch by the sea

Taking lunch by the sea

Taking lunch by the sea

Taking lunch by the sea

Taking lunch by the sea

Taking lunch by the sea

After our relaxing break, we remembered guidance given to us from local people about an interesting stop near our destination of Champotón. These locals had informed us of a turtle camp just past the small city of Champotón. This turtle camp is a small sanctuary for the fascinating creatures. As well, the turtle compound is reported to be next to an area that offers the respectful traveler a place to camp for the night – read abandoned group of structures and out buildings that one can set up a tent nearby. One must be somewhat wary of actual distances that locals give. Common practice for residents is to discuss distance in terms of time as opposed to linear space. That can be confusing if one is accustomed to mileage or kilometers when approximating travel or arrival times. Turned out, the turtle camp is approximately twenty kilometers outside of Champotón, a hour or so jaunt for most bicycling enthusiasts. To our amusement, locals will tell you, “Oh ! It’s only ten minutes from that city !” We had thanked the well-meaning folks at that time and journeyed toward a place short of Champotón called Charka. Since the sun was hurrying down, we were hoping to accrue lodging for the night, or a least a place to set up our tent. A beautiful looking place was right there in front of us. The wonderful surroundings of Perla del Mar were fairly large with a nice house and restaurant and a row of hotel-style rooms. Seeing a young worker who walked nearby, we asked about renting a room for the night or the possibility of using an exterior space to set up our tent. The helpful person went to ask the manager. Our new friend came back outside rather dejected and looking sad and suggested, very nicely I might add, we check the lodge next door. Before we could abide the suggestions from our soulful resort helper, a man rolled into view with his big black truck. Not knowing who this gentleman was, we watched, somewhat surprisingly, our young friend go to the side of the black vehicle and speak with the driver. Adding to the small bit of excitement, a couple more employees had come outside to see the foreigners and what they were up to. To everyone’s surprise, the owner of Perla del Mar who was the person driving the truck overruled the suggestive of having the two of us move on our way. The generous owner agreed to let us setup our tent by the beach, as well we met the chef of Perla del Mar. A good-natured Italian fellow who prepared us a tremendous dinner. How great is that !?!

The next day we made our way through Champotón and continued toward the turtle camp. We chuckled about the local people’s time estimation and the hour difference of travel our bikes had to make getting to the turtle reserve. Unaffected, we did find the turtle camp easily enough and we set our tent and had a wonderful and relaxing break.

Perla del Mar

Perla del Mar

Our nice campsite by the sea

Our nice campsite by the sea

Our nice campsite by the sea

Our nice campsite by the sea

Our nice campsite by the sea

There was a great health food store right around the corner called Natura 2000 and Zoe uploaded some pictures for an entry on Happy Cow. They serve fast food like veggie hamburgers and sold herbs & supplements & fresh natural drinks and they have a great bakery.

By 8:00 pm we were tired, went to sleep and got up nice and early on Saturday for a walk to the mercado publico (public market) and to take some pictures. That night we woke up at 3:30 am just soaked in sweat from the heat probably caused by the two big fans we had running in our room to try and keep us cool, how ironic. So we went into the little courtyard and slept on the lawn chairs. Nice and cool, what a relief!

On Sunday we finally swapped out Zoe’s old knobby mountain bike tires for the brand new Schwalbe Marathon Plus touring tires we’d bought in Europe, nice. And, apparently the new daylight savings time started on Sunday as well, so… spring forward, fall back… so 9:00 becomes 10:00 now, we “loose” an hour, as they say. That’s ok, we gots nuthin’ but time.

The city retains many of the old colonial Spanish city walls and fortifications which protected the city (not always successfully) from pirates and buccaneers. The state of preservation and quality of its architecture earned it the status of a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999. Originally, the Spaniards lived inside the walled city, while the natives lived in the surrounding barrios of San Francisco, Guadalupe and San Román — Wikipedia

On Monday walked out to see the pirate wall which enabled us to look over the facade on the street and see into people’s houses, more or less, or at least into their courtyards which sometimes were neat middle-class homes with hanging laundry but sometimes big empty fields or just piles of rubble.

Steven atop the city's fortification wall

A view from the city's fortification wall

A view from the city's fortification wall

A view from the city's fortification wall

A view from the city's fortification wall

We talked with Fernando, the manager of the hostel we are staying at, and he somberly told us that the drug problem is so bad in Mexico that if you are an honest, hard-working laborer, there is almost no way to make a decent living. On the other hand if you are a thieving, drug-dealing murderer there is big money to be made.

The last three nights we have spent in the courtyard with our tent on the tiny patch of grass that floors the area with the laundry lines making it easy for us to layout our bedsheets over the tent as a wonderful sunscreen.

Who needs laundry clips?

Our tent nicely shaded by our bedsheets

Zoe’s bottom bracket has been making a creaking noise so we rode out to the other side of town with Fernando and his friend Leo to visit Leo’s friend the bike mechanic. And it was worth the ride because for 80 pesos (US$7) he repacked her front hub super smoothly and tightened up her bottom bracket nicely.

Leo's friend working on Zoe's bike

Leo's friend working on Zoe's bike

The only tools we didn't bring with us are the only tools we needed

Mennonites on the way to the market. According to Wikipedia there are 80,000 in Mexico.

Marañón, the cashew fruit. The red/orange part is sweet and astringent and can be used to make delicious smoothies while the dark green attachment contains the delicious cashew nut inside!

A Christian priest, Francisco de Montejo and a Maya chief - a monument commemorating the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors and the beginning of Maya exploitation

Our room at the mini-palace was just too hot to even try to sleep so we attempted to sleep outside on the terrace. It was quite pleasantly cool but the sucking mosquitoes were too thick to try and ignore. So we went out back to the tall green grass, pitched our tent and slept like a couple of babies.

Up at 4:30 and on the road before 6:00 am. By 8:30 we were ready for a break from headwind highway and stopped in the town center of Pok Bok, a sleepy and peaceful place execept for the giant loudspeaker blaring some terrible Mexican techno music. In early the morning, every minute that you are not riding is another minute you have to spend in the hot sun which after about ten o’clock becomes basically un-ridable.

Passing through Bacal, a place where Mexico's finest sombreros are woven in humid caves. The humidity allows the palm strands to bend without breaking. In the background a woman with palm strands for hat weaving.

We rolled into Pomuch about 10:30 proud of ourselves we made it before the unbearable midday heat and parked our bikes outside of a little tienda (store). Zoe went for bread and cokes. She came back with some nice yellow cheese as well and we ate a nice little lunch right outside the front door watching the busy main street wheel and foot traffic.

Pomuch is famous for their bread and we found out why, it was lovely and rich. There is a big selection of delicious sweet breads available here as well as the tasty savory varieties. Unfortunately, the savory breads mostly contained ham to the discontent of our vegetarian palates. Our favorite was the salty ring bread we bought at the main square – it was unusually heavy, tasted a bit like a salty pastry bread and seemed to contain a lot of butter. A very rich treat that you might not want to eat every day if you don’t want to turn into a heavy fat ball yourself (unless, of course, you’re traveling cross-country by bicycle).

Delicious bread - salty and rich in butter

Bread with cheese filling

Some of the breads were so pretty, like little pieces of art

The sweet rolls were traditionally made with vanilla, cinnamon or anise

Panaderia la Conchita - The little conch shell bakery

We walked across the street to find some shade in the trees of the main square. There were many local people trying to escape the hot sun and we were probably the only tourists there.

The Young and the Wise

This Grandpa was taking such a good care of his little successor

These white hats are surely made in Becal

Buenos días, Amigo!

Maya women

Not long after settling in the park we were surrounded by a very inquisitive faction of the dominating adolescent representation in the park, a group of school girls. They asked us to try and explain global warming and Steven had the opportunity to explain to them his contrary views of the impending global cooling.

We’d spent about three hours in the park during which time the girls bought us a sweet juicy sandia (watermelon) which was shared by all. Zoe had an opportunity to really flex her Spanish muscles as she was asked and proceeded to do the girls’ homework by translating sentences from English into Spanish, neither of which are her mother-tongue. Fortunately these were all sentences dealing with hotel and tourism which is the topic we are most practiced at, having stayed in so many hotels and talking to so many receptionists here in Mexico.

Zoe helping the schoolgirls

Posing for a picture. The English homework is done!

As the sun was getting close to the horizon we decided to try and find a place to sleep here in Pomuch. When we asked the kids in the parque if there was a hotel in town, the answer was no. When we asked a police, they said, “Sorry, there’s nothing here for you. You should try Santa Rosa.” (US$200/night)

We eventually realized that everybody assumed we would be looking for the luxury accommodations. It’s hard to understand how anyone seeing two sweaty hippies with torn clothes spotted with butter and road grease traveling by dirty bicycles would assume wealth. But then again, we are white.

We finally got our points across: bed, fan, shower; and were escorted us to a local guest-house with no sign renting rooms at 150 pesos a night. Bueno! This is what we were looking for. We took a refreshing shower and a short nap and headed out to find the bizarre cemetery that Pomuch is famous for.

The Cemetery

We arrived to find there was nobody else but us inside the small cement walls of the cemetery, nobody but us and any remaining wandering souls and one scared cat. Zoe ran one way and the cat ran the other way, each with a shriek. We all basically scared each other.

It felt a little strange tho, like we came here looking out of curiosity and the deceased were hoping we were paying our respects. We took the little path forming a narrow labyrinth through the unusual cemetery. There were these little cement cells with open towers and we peeked in to see if there were indeed bones and skulls of the passed. Each cell contained one or more wooden boxes, lined with a cloth embroidered with the name of the person whose bones now occupied the crate in little dusty piles.

As we were leaving we met this friendly man, the caretaker of the cemetery, very proud of his local tradition, who he explained to us in detail the cemetery customs.

After death the body is buried. It can either be buried in dirt underground and a cement plate is put on top or it can be “buried” in a sealed cement box without dirt. Three years later on the Day of the Dead the remains get excavated, cleaned and transfered to a wooden box and displayed. From then on it is cleaned once a year on the Day of the Dead when the cemetery fills up with people who come here to clean the remains of their family members.

This local custom probably originates from the Maya practice of keeping and venerating the skulls of the dead. Here in Pomuch it got incorporated into the Christian practices making it very unique. We have seen these types of little cement cells in many places in Mexico but the caretaker told us that here in Pomuch is the only place in Mexico and probably in the world where this kind of a custom takes place.

We woke up at 4:30 am, nice and early and left our private little apartment through the restaurant, locking the door on the way out and tossing the keys back inside through the window. We stopped in the main square and found Jesús asleep in his churro tent. We decided not to wake him so we wrote a little note to say goodbye. We were on the road by 6:30, just before sunrise with a pleasant chill in the air and plenty of light in the sky.

Holy Road

After an hour and a half of smooth but boring riding we arrived at the pot-holed road we were warned about. It could be described as a road since there were no trees to negotiate through this stretch of jungle, and it was straight enough to see for a hundred meters or so at a time; but to call this a road would be somewhat of a joke since our two wheelers, snaking left and right past craters and rocks could not manage ten km per hour, a car would probably have to go even slower.

Zoe navigates the pot-holed road outside Celestún

Some holes held enough water through the dry season to support small shrubbery

Zoe talks to a farmer pumping water from a cenote for his cows while his dad offers some type of alcohol

Mechanical

After an hour and a half of taking advantage of our fat tires and front suspension, we’d gone only ten kilometers when Steven experienced our first mechanical failure of the trip so far. We don’t have any pictures of this incident because there were these small but rather aggressive wasp/flies which we could’nt tell if they were biting us or stinging us. So Zoe tried to keep the little pests away by fanning steven with branches like some desert slave fanning an angry pharaoh as he tried to repair the bike.

Zeus Loosed the Bolt of Wrath

Steven:

I had a friend named Marco in Irvine California who told me to remember to always check all the bolts for tightness before every ride. It only takes a minute or so to do it; but, in the haste of packing and checking out of the hotel and combined with the fact that half of my bolts are hidden behind canvas saddle bags, I seem to have neglected my bike for the last few weeks.

Sure enough as I gained some speed through a rare patch of pavement on the pot-holed road I deftly carved the concave inner wall of a rather large hole passing Zoe I heard her say, “Crazy man, coming through.” Suddenly my bike felt like a wet noodle when I turned to the left. I thought maybe my quick-release skewer in the rear axle had popped open so I slowed down and pulled over to find out the bitter truth.

A bolt had come loose and fallen off the bike. Ten minutes of searching produced only two large welts on my body so I figured the flies are not going to let me find my hardware. I had an emergency bolt long enough to serve as a temporary replacement but it is much thinner and I expect it to bend if not outright fail altogether; but, it only needs to last until Campeche where I hope to find something more permanent.

The road was entirely deserted except for us and a pair of motorcycles but just after Steven’s bike broke down a truck carrying road workers just happened to be passing by and one guy was willing to help out and got a couple of turns on the wrench. Less than an hour later the bike was once again ridable and we said goodbye to the nice workers. It was good to know that there was a vehicle that might have driven us to the next town if we needed it.

Beggar Youth

Around noon we rolled into Chunchucmil at about the 50 km mark and sat down in front of what appeared to be the only store in town and drank ourselves a couple of glorious cold cokes. We were approached first by one and then more of what turned out to be the first child beggars we’ve encountered so far in Mexico.

We’ve seen beggar kids on our travels before. The Moroccan kids guilt Muslims out of money by crying “bakshish“, a religious word lost on most tourists but not without effort. There were the small children in Thailand who would stand at the curb with a hand out while mother holding a baby sister or brother would sit in the gutter. And of course India has lowered the bar, as it were, disfiguring orphans for increased sympathy, thereby increased donations, made famous by the amazing film Slumdog Millionaire.

But the Yucatecans we’ve met up until today seem to have enough money and not enough tourists for begging. It was as if we couldn’t believe our ears: did he just say, “Money?” We tried to escape the little beggars in the park but we were of course followed. Enough is enough, we’re out of here.

Steven checks his repair job with the one kid in Chunchucmil that was not asking for money

Abandoned

On the way out of Chunchucmil we spotted a large abandoned hacienda (factory plantation) and we stopped by to take some pictures. Zoe went inside and who did she meet? The same road workers we met on the pot-holed road. Actually they are planning on resurfacing the whole thing and apparently these guys sleep in these windowless buildings while on this road project, away from their families in Mérida, Campeche and other places. They were nice enough to give Zoe a tour.

Sheep Trees

These cute fluffy balls were flying all over the town in the wind.

The Killing Heat

We pulled out of Chunchucmil about 2:00 during the killing heat of the afternoon. It was so hot we had to stop every five or ten kilometers to get a refreshing cold coca-cola.

Halachó Before Sunset

We originally planned on sleeping in Becal, another seven kilometers further down the road, in order to check the famous hat-making operations, but we were too beat to make it. Once in the Halachó town center, a taxi driver told us of a house to check for lodging, which we were ablt to negotiate for 100 pesos:¨”How much?”… “One hundred pesos.”… “We’ll take it.” It was waaay to hot to sleep in the room so we tried to sleep on the terrace which was pleasantly cool enouh but the mosquitoes were just too thick to take.

We set up the tent out back in the lush green shaggy grass and slept like a couple of babies. This house is like a palace. A very hot palace.

Splash! Splash! It’s early morning on the Gulf of Mexico and the pelicans are already out fishing. They snatch up to two kilograms of fresh fish a day. That’s a lot of fish so they need to start early. The Brown Pelican that inhabits the Celestún waters seems to be the only species among the pelicans who use the plunge-diving method to catch prey. The other kinds of pelicans prefer to scoop the fish out of the water while floating on the surface.

Brown pelican scouring the Gulf for fish

They can sight their prey from as high as 20 meters!

Once they spot the fish they want they stop their flight and seem to hang in the air for a split second...

... then they flip around...

... and the plunge-dive begins.

The long pouched bill will enter the water first

Feet in the air, fish in the pouch!

Splash!!!

On the beaches of Celestún we saw many pelicans diving into the water from over ten meters, hitting the water with a big splash and submerging completely. Air sacs under their feathered skin provide cushion and buoyancy – a soft dive and an easy return to the surface. Because of the high buoyancy it is virtually impossible for them to dive deep.

Along with the pelican’s catch, up to three liters of water may get scooped up into the expandable pouch attached to their bill. Since the volume of their stomach is only around one liter, they need to get rid of most of the water before swallowing. They do so by tipping their head back which causes the water to drain out of their bill. Now they can swallow their meal.

Dip net full of water

Drain, flip and swallow

Sometimes flipping the fish is necessary. They have to be swallowed head first so as not to get caught in the pelican's throat causing him trouble.

Gulp!!!

Gulls are known to steal the fish right out of the pelicans bill during water draining or fish flipping

Pelicans’ favorite hangout is the port. All day long boats full of fish came back from the sea and after arrival the fishermen first clean their catch. An easier option to fishing is feeding of the scraps that the fishermen will throw into water while cleaning the fish. It is like going to a restaurant, the food might not be as good as “self-prepared”, but at least it comes onto your plate (read: bill) easier.

Pelicans in the port fighting over the fish scraps

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican. (belly can)
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week,
But I’m damned if I see how the helican. (hell he can)

– Dixon Lanier Merritt

Landing

Blue eyes and red lips

In Celestún they come in three varieties: white heads, yellow heads and all gray (these are probably the young ones)

With the will of a thousand cycling gods we finally were able to pull ourselves from the loving embrace of the comfort of our Méridian guesthouse and strode the 90 km (56 mi) westward to the peaceful little beach town of Celestún. We were happy to see a pizza place, which are always vegetarian-friendly, and ordered up the biggest ‘za we could get. While we waited Steven went over to the nearby churro stand and came back with a hot sugary order of “freshies”.

Anything submerged in boiling oil will taste good. You could deep-fry a shoe and it might even be edible. But fried flour dough with sugar will rival even the best food known to modern man: french fries, which of course are also deep-fried. Churros are like long thin “fritters”.

Churros, sometimes referred to as a Spanish doughnut, are fried-dough pastry-based snacks, sometimes made from potato dough, that originated in Spain. –Wikipedia

The dough is squeezed out of a decorative star opening under pressure

Deep fried for a few minutes

Fresh out of the fryer

Andale!

A half-eaten order of fresh sugary churros

Also on the menu are hot-cakes, not as omni-present from street vendors as the churro, but always satisfying

Fried plantains (bananas) with sweet milk and creme

Salchichas (fried hot dogs) topped with creme and catchup

Churros

1 cup water
2 1/2 tablespoons white sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 quarts oil for frying
1/2 cup white sugar, or to taste
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

~ ~ ~

In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine water, 2 1/2 tablespoons sugar, salt and 2 tablespoons vegetable oil. Bring to a boil and remove from heat. Stir in flour until mixture forms a ball.
Heat oil for frying in deep-fryer or deep skillet to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Pipe strips of dough into hot oil using a pastry bag. Fry until golden; drain on paper towels.
Combine 1/2 cup sugar and cinnamon. Roll drained churros in cinnamon and sugar mixture. — allrecipes.com

Marquesitas

Another street food even more common than the churro is the delicious ubiquitous marquesita. We resolved to order one of these rolled up thin pancakes but were at first scared of the cheese for some reason but it turned out to be the good yummy hard cheese. So in lieu of cheese we opted for Nutella (hazelnut spread). This sounds good in theory but in practice tastes crappy. The hardened crepe is dry and crumbles before it even gets to your mouth and the chocolate is too thin to hold anything together.

A crepe is rolled around shredded edam cheese and condensed milk. The crepe hardens after rolling and reminds many of an ice cream cone. Alternative fillings such as Nutella may also be offered. Often served from a cart at fiestas and special events. –In The Roo

After seeing countless marquesitas rolled and sold in Mérida, Steven decided to try one for himself, in the original format, with cheese.

Steven:

I’m sure the vendors were puzzled and laughing at us to themselves as we ordered marquesitas without cheese. It must be like ordering a cheeseburger without cheese, or better yet it’s like ordering cheesecake without cheese, it’s just not the same thing. The cheese is what holds the brittle shell together and gives the thing some body and flavor.

Good hard Edam cheese from Holland is used to fill a marquesita

After the shell is cooked, the cheese is places on top

A marquesita ready to be rolled

Rolled and hot and ready to eat, marquesitas make for good snackin'

Wow, that's a big one!

A Gypsy Lifestyle

Almost every evening during our stay here in Celestún we´ve gone down to the main plaza in the city center to hang out with the street vendors and have become friends and have gotten to know the whole family: Briseida & Jesús, Briseida´s father Señor Venancio & mother Señora Blanca, and their children sweet Hiran & little Nahum. They live in Mérida but travel to this little beach town as well as others to sell fried food to the nightly crowds. They live, work and sleep right within these small carts which cost about 25 pesos (two bucks US) per night per cart for electricity, water and bathroom facilities.

Briseida, little Nahum and Jesús

Jesús, Nahum and Steven

Briseida about to add hot sauce to a customer´s fries

Blanca and Briseida preparing an order

Briseida behind the counter with her parents observes a future customer

Vanancio calling out the cards for the evening´s final lottery game

Pretty Hiran waits at the counter

Hiran stands next to the deep fryer while someone cooks french fries

Zoe stands with Jesús petting Rex

Zoe shows off her new skirt while she pets Rex, the dog from The Wolf restaurant, el Lobo

The Lottery Game

While Jesús & Briseida serve churros and french fries from their vending cart, next door Briseida´s parents run the lotería (lottery) game. Vanancio would annouce over his sound system with microphone and speakers loud enough for the entire public square to hear that a new game is about to start and people would form around all four sides of his stand.

Playing boards are placed around so that maybe thirty people could play at once while the prizes are suspended overhead inside, various plastic tubs and containers. Today is Sunday and the players are two deep waiting to pay their three pesos for the opportunity to play Mexican “bingo” and win a big plastic wash basin.

Lotería is a Mexican game of chance, similar to Bingo, but using images on a deck of cards instead of plain numbers on ping pong balls. Every image has a name and an assigned number, but the number is usually ignored. Each player has at least one tabla, a board with a randomly created 4 x 4 grid of pictures with their corresponding name and number. Each player choose what tabla they want to play with, from a variety of previously created tablas. Each one presents a different selection of images. –Wikipedia

Vanancio announces the next card, number ten, El árbol (The Tree)

Players wait for the game to begin

Select your board

Dried corn kernels are used as markers

34 El soldado (The Soldier)
38 El Apache (The Apache)
35 La estrella (The Star)
50 El pescado (The Fish)

20 El pájaro (The Bird)
28 La sandía (The Watermelon)
31 Las jaras (The Arrows)
53 El arpa (The Harp)

30 El camarón (The Shrimp)
33 La araña (The Spider)
40 El alacrán (The Scorpion)
22 La bota (The Boot)

05 El paraguas (The Umbrella)
16 La bandera (The Flag)
08 La botella (The Bottle)
25 El borracho (The Drunk)

Zoe played one game and won! A big green wash basin, nice. We can’t use this on our trip so she gave it to our friend.