tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20609191025857497772024-03-24T23:09:29.817-07:00Shell on 2 wheelsSimple life on a bike.shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-75119244936346577342020-02-23T16:55:00.002-08:002020-02-23T17:04:59.293-08:00Mexico 2020 San Cristobal to Huatulco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Omar at his Casa de Ciclistas en San Cristobal de las Casas</span></td></tr>
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I have mentioned the RAC a few times before. The Red de Apoyo del Cicloturista. The support network for cycle tourers. Omar (above) was one of the founding members. He manages a little group of cabins just outside the centre of San Cristobal de las Casas and hosts cyclists for free every day of the week. He himself cycled for three years around Mexico but has settled now in San Cristobal. Omar is one of these kind souls on this planet. During my time in San Cristobal I spent a few nights around his kitchen table with maps out, drinking coffee and chatting excitedly to other cyclists. </div>
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I was so looking forward to getting here. Although still around 30 degrees during the day, because it is 2200m above sea level the mornings and evenings are cool and one can sleep with a sleeping bag over ones shoulder. What a glorious luxury. I stayed for five nights. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Omar and Tom from the UK having a hot chocolate in San Cristobal. Comparing routes on the map.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The canyon of the Sumidero in Chiapas de Corso, as nice as Norway or <br />
New Zealand, but filthy and polluted with plastic.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">30kms of a beautiful canyon absolutely ruined with plastic.</td></tr>
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<b>Tuxtla</b><br />
From San Cristobal it's a 30km downhill ride to Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. Starting at 2200m above sea level you whizz down to 552m. The lads in the bike shop welcomed me as if they had known me for years, showed me the spare room in the warehouse up above the bike shop for sleeping, where the drinkable water was and asked me not to disturb the very healthy looking marijuana plant in the corner of the kitchenette.<br />
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Being so hot I knew I wouldn't be staying long but I did make it each night to the Plaza de la Marimba. A marvellous happy place where a band plays each night in the bandstand while hundreds of folk of all ages and all shapes and sizes come to dance Marimba.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Every night at 6pm the Parque de la Marimba comes to life with hundreds of dancers.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">A mattress on a pallet in the warehouse above the bike shop for touring cyclists to sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherpa was more than happy to hang out in the bike shop warehouse with some friends.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lads in the bike shop in Tuxtla printed their own t-shirts. They say the locals don't understand what they say.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Cooking breakfast of porridge and apple in the bike shop warehouse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Dresses bought all over Mexico when girls turn 15. It's like our 21st but just a much bigger deal.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical town in Chiapas without a single single-occupancy car in sight.</td></tr>
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<b>The waterfall of El Aguacero</b><br />
The Tuxtla bike shop lads recommended I head to the El Aguacero waterfall about 50kms from their shop. They said you could swim directly in the waterfall and it was a peaceful place to camp. So after leaving my bike and most of my stuff at the shop at the top of the 800 steps, I swung a pannier with tent, mat, sleeping bag, stove and food over a shoulder and hiked down.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">I was able to climb up and swim/bathe in the waterfall.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best wild camp spot of the whole trip. Fly sheet looking a bit battered.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having no lighter to light the stove meant it was olives for breakfast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Messing with the timer on my phone. I stayed all morning reading in the cool shady gorge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7SU0pJn5dTajZsoW9PnPLNOUCZDsgvbYBIXNf4RYG_JwJ5Z3_O3bJWmyR3GayLYOXmClBTupwcDuWEkfF7Ny7RMlkyDW5wGoHzQCM0Wr4QrsPN5W7O0b9yYCYEox25-gyIUXb_KojcjG/s1600/IMG_20200201_091226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1040" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7SU0pJn5dTajZsoW9PnPLNOUCZDsgvbYBIXNf4RYG_JwJ5Z3_O3bJWmyR3GayLYOXmClBTupwcDuWEkfF7Ny7RMlkyDW5wGoHzQCM0Wr4QrsPN5W7O0b9yYCYEox25-gyIUXb_KojcjG/s400/IMG_20200201_091226.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And just by magic some humans arrived to swim in the waterfall. <br />
One had a lighter so I was able to have my porridge after all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTWUWAYBcP-Nvys6Idqbp7VUWchyYhyphenhyphenUVt-aA7ET2Uti8qX8k5B6P0XqG5PUxv_06gCmR2BGViTqV0eyEOQnmSvcKFOVEPUbMeZz8i0deM6xIn9NQeFQxGWKKwcZkcNh1lQUQeYbN8qup/s1600/IMG_20200201_131226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1600" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTWUWAYBcP-Nvys6Idqbp7VUWchyYhyphenhyphenUVt-aA7ET2Uti8qX8k5B6P0XqG5PUxv_06gCmR2BGViTqV0eyEOQnmSvcKFOVEPUbMeZz8i0deM6xIn9NQeFQxGWKKwcZkcNh1lQUQeYbN8qup/s400/IMG_20200201_131226.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a 2nd piece of magic produced a man who was delivering plants to a nearby village who arrived at the <br />
waterfall with an open backed jeep and took me and Sherpa up the 3km climb on the dirt track.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b>Delights along the road</b><br />
From the waterfall I headed for Cintalapa. I had spent the whole morning at the waterfall so the afternoon only provided time enough for a 50km jaunt up the road. I heard loud roars from a stadium I rode by so parked the bike and popped my head in.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2uNzdNj5WKr7lWSbS3Ne6WiXQrES3wYnf3ToNliiq0_clFeL0apC4J2lu5L7-rvj0xUz80sSe5eqBxHFnmbPDNPPjJmiOzHcvUpqYp9AxQDknxe3Afkv9zw7z8HVWebjRFQjXUdv0xrx/s1600/IMG_20200201_171352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="816" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2uNzdNj5WKr7lWSbS3Ne6WiXQrES3wYnf3ToNliiq0_clFeL0apC4J2lu5L7-rvj0xUz80sSe5eqBxHFnmbPDNPPjJmiOzHcvUpqYp9AxQDknxe3Afkv9zw7z8HVWebjRFQjXUdv0xrx/s400/IMG_20200201_171352.jpg" width="353" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A charreada or rodeo in Chiapas.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPLqAfVP-Oflc_1R8n-wlIi4U1sDEUhyo3xZuOuIw5COw1-rKchl2gNciRBcFzdHOP4AQu-3OdufoIlUl0FUESS_5fJhSyBjEuQ1eJtkZyVwJxggMsRj6tmLtcIjPcClKFF8Gaae5rpos/s1600/IMG_20200201_172054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPLqAfVP-Oflc_1R8n-wlIi4U1sDEUhyo3xZuOuIw5COw1-rKchl2gNciRBcFzdHOP4AQu-3OdufoIlUl0FUESS_5fJhSyBjEuQ1eJtkZyVwJxggMsRj6tmLtcIjPcClKFF8Gaae5rpos/s400/IMG_20200201_172054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such fun to sit and watch. I had no idea what would happen next.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLR30A91VBvSJI-XS-Kgrij6yUQBsNIg-qjcRNvEx_XenKCOXZeZgXOPvwe5aGDQSyWWppB08EKUMavt5SpT96cq1V0aVBqukQ1gBARr_eHhz_NhLa5yAhHw5-W3rNuzmq8lSbHclK3gC/s400/IMG_20200202_101157.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This military road block looked as if it was made from lego. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLR30A91VBvSJI-XS-Kgrij6yUQBsNIg-qjcRNvEx_XenKCOXZeZgXOPvwe5aGDQSyWWppB08EKUMavt5SpT96cq1V0aVBqukQ1gBARr_eHhz_NhLa5yAhHw5-W3rNuzmq8lSbHclK3gC/s1600/IMG_20200202_101157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMuD0qITZWqnQcSfBdrtU7dWBpHt6bA9NYuuPf0saNIPOou_XJCfsBkjbwdbzQzIiSrCLQ0hvnpRQc4z20AW3qEugIzy6-eV1RD3bpku7AC4uGugu6e7UBtH2k2VbyTu_IqOZHzRJJX59/s1600/IMG_20200202_083550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMuD0qITZWqnQcSfBdrtU7dWBpHt6bA9NYuuPf0saNIPOou_XJCfsBkjbwdbzQzIiSrCLQ0hvnpRQc4z20AW3qEugIzy6-eV1RD3bpku7AC4uGugu6e7UBtH2k2VbyTu_IqOZHzRJJX59/s400/IMG_20200202_083550.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This gorgeous little lady took my order in her PJs at a roadside diner. <br />
She drew my 'un café porfa' order in her notebook and took it into her mum in the kitchen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>The Civil Protection in Cintalapa</b><br />
When I popped 'bomberos' into Google maps in Cintalapa the 'Protección Civil' showed up. I had never heard of such a place before but Google told me it was open 24 hours which was good enough for me.<br />
<br />
When I arrived and announced that I was looking for a camp spot for the night no one really batted an eyelid. They told me to pitch my tent just behind the ambulances and that the bathroom with shower would be free of men in about five minutes. Every time this kind of thing happens I wonder how a Mexican cyclist would be treated if they rocked up to the fire station in Navan looking for a place to stay. There is just no possible way that they would be treated as well.<br />
<br />
Hugo, to my left, and I hitched a lift into town at about 8pm the night I stayed. He had to go to work at a concert so I asked if I could tag along. As there was no room left in either ambulance we had to hitch a lift. But the first car that passed (it was completely dark) stopped and made sure the paramedic got to his concert.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyChJPGKXrQrTtId5hbxwWu064kZ3ia5CWJjMrdX43vovv_R3noCBkGO_SUPHm3aNDknANdJlFCZWivI9bazgvyVn1Wx0COTAETvi3LFN4Nd_TWR80gGlqUReqbs-dS1KZ2l3jRY38BZI/s1600/IMG_20200202_074806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyChJPGKXrQrTtId5hbxwWu064kZ3ia5CWJjMrdX43vovv_R3noCBkGO_SUPHm3aNDknANdJlFCZWivI9bazgvyVn1Wx0COTAETvi3LFN4Nd_TWR80gGlqUReqbs-dS1KZ2l3jRY38BZI/s400/IMG_20200202_074806.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lads at the civil protection. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxa5r_2LpAFuyGi9EPakfb7o89MWygtcAZ2RRwL-kaY5o7KMD4ZHiCX-B6US6w2kQQR0VSLP52muSxIjikunNjyXLhMMWLwiKBWrCfj2SD2Cfr-ePut23HvqPrwae8oNbo3m1BD0DY_T1a/s1600/IMG_20200202_071356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="1600" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxa5r_2LpAFuyGi9EPakfb7o89MWygtcAZ2RRwL-kaY5o7KMD4ZHiCX-B6US6w2kQQR0VSLP52muSxIjikunNjyXLhMMWLwiKBWrCfj2SD2Cfr-ePut23HvqPrwae8oNbo3m1BD0DY_T1a/s400/IMG_20200202_071356.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">All a girl needs is a shelf to spread out her stuff.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcob3oNgkKsjhc6ED9SoLQuF8Q3qIx2fod7kPGacEI2dqr11-EcXCy1iFNPkEbVPQKIKhbVpGm7UvP3qmNGYjFAAqz1mZt7WxJxm0k1A__f0SecqJj4njGQa85nPP58NgnIIC1nz6senMw/s1600/IMG_20200202_071344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="1600" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcob3oNgkKsjhc6ED9SoLQuF8Q3qIx2fod7kPGacEI2dqr11-EcXCy1iFNPkEbVPQKIKhbVpGm7UvP3qmNGYjFAAqz1mZt7WxJxm0k1A__f0SecqJj4njGQa85nPP58NgnIIC1nz6senMw/s400/IMG_20200202_071344.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10m from the main road. Without doubt the noisiest night of the whole trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4QfGE56BEAExBls7BKFqX0ssxcXM5n15xwwvmm4S-6UBKsEdTDrfoTPRSvOruuP4Xq6IiuqZ-9sEW139F9u38THJECKAmiSLe0cy_RLOZSQFJEEcPZRHeQBaz9wGx6EcQNzb_AeQibm9/s1600/IMG_20200202_134346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1600" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4QfGE56BEAExBls7BKFqX0ssxcXM5n15xwwvmm4S-6UBKsEdTDrfoTPRSvOruuP4Xq6IiuqZ-9sEW139F9u38THJECKAmiSLe0cy_RLOZSQFJEEcPZRHeQBaz9wGx6EcQNzb_AeQibm9/s400/IMG_20200202_134346.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little geography lesson on the road with some very lovely children.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeI1DBpMY2ku-jVrQVnYvvA-APvdVMCNZef2ntE1zXfnxvtWxkGhgJF11lGpH0ASxjvC0e9WVDSkoHw0L29wKCj0cCh_TUcrKgFWqqAzeqF1OFo8ui57Q8G-HSy3MEyOE9iwgudGp9eZE/s1600/IMG_20200203_101917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1146" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeI1DBpMY2ku-jVrQVnYvvA-APvdVMCNZef2ntE1zXfnxvtWxkGhgJF11lGpH0ASxjvC0e9WVDSkoHw0L29wKCj0cCh_TUcrKgFWqqAzeqF1OFo8ui57Q8G-HSy3MEyOE9iwgudGp9eZE/s400/IMG_20200203_101917.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up to my old mischief. Cooking porridge in hotel corridors. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Entering Oaxaca state</b><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukjdbDAeEJ3e4ag80Oc47nMOCWGcnj2_Z5rnSyEq_UhZGpn1WzS6-rFxPbx_Im45iT9rQG4hM-fEPHzf4l4hGypQJrBB9eYrTp4tJqtl0kZbu1PSIArZ8PcEujF6_uxxB8-FA4SGSxsSK/s1600/IMG_20200202_140959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1589" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukjdbDAeEJ3e4ag80Oc47nMOCWGcnj2_Z5rnSyEq_UhZGpn1WzS6-rFxPbx_Im45iT9rQG4hM-fEPHzf4l4hGypQJrBB9eYrTp4tJqtl0kZbu1PSIArZ8PcEujF6_uxxB8-FA4SGSxsSK/s400/IMG_20200202_140959.jpg" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 200km section of the road is </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTrQIdOuDhbZYJKi8a82O6z3VtHTCsDYrHlGjZsC4s3C51kMcWpUVY2Rl50OlUPe1Rm_4EIw6rR9NMJFSY6Q7w25VPTnYOJJG69MXIEHxN1IRtxSzI_huwroDufIq1eJgyR2ad-320WWH/s1600/windfarm-565x349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="565" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTrQIdOuDhbZYJKi8a82O6z3VtHTCsDYrHlGjZsC4s3C51kMcWpUVY2Rl50OlUPe1Rm_4EIw6rR9NMJFSY6Q7w25VPTnYOJJG69MXIEHxN1IRtxSzI_huwroDufIq1eJgyR2ad-320WWH/s400/windfarm-565x349.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wind farms for miles in Chiapas. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveZBiyHos7zANZiGUqwAayq4ec5YcPqsI_vs1fKNPo8mym5VtIA0_tx2Uh8veclKdAj9lInD2ruznYw3ko5ytEvryXx-NlAKHPPin6XsdINNUBcfUrPtd7qwDiplVO5bCmg7OQzq1AdtV/s1600/IMG_20200203_065208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="1600" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveZBiyHos7zANZiGUqwAayq4ec5YcPqsI_vs1fKNPo8mym5VtIA0_tx2Uh8veclKdAj9lInD2ruznYw3ko5ytEvryXx-NlAKHPPin6XsdINNUBcfUrPtd7qwDiplVO5bCmg7OQzq1AdtV/s400/IMG_20200203_065208.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had wanted to ride through Oaxaca for ages. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFuX7j7MBYOre2VQ6NUpZPcnbsqAYngGz2eVPcIz2KxF3xfMjLaw9lhmsG9TXjhgJHSDF1YhnZSL63TwcG0cog2qm0xf9irBKOZs30vbn1fhKCDXM0snPEcC0UqRgQ2J49TXGQhgX4chK/s1600/IMG_20200202_154432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="1600" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFuX7j7MBYOre2VQ6NUpZPcnbsqAYngGz2eVPcIz2KxF3xfMjLaw9lhmsG9TXjhgJHSDF1YhnZSL63TwcG0cog2qm0xf9irBKOZs30vbn1fhKCDXM0snPEcC0UqRgQ2J49TXGQhgX4chK/s400/IMG_20200202_154432.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A speciality of Oaxaca - The Tlayuda. Like an oversized quesadilla. Or a pizza folded in half.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSJYaGX9StCxVG3GjeYM8AWbCw51-MiIsrew_0TEBkNDLLprGeKxTf6rKklWN_s3ke_pV6QP0NX9i6w58_47SvBxrsoFWu4zc-Z7QYYGG6z8Z2OZG4xYJ9sl8r6Kza0QYnlM7Mew_KyPo/s1600/IMG_20200205_134358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1585" data-original-width="1600" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSJYaGX9StCxVG3GjeYM8AWbCw51-MiIsrew_0TEBkNDLLprGeKxTf6rKklWN_s3ke_pV6QP0NX9i6w58_47SvBxrsoFWu4zc-Z7QYYGG6z8Z2OZG4xYJ9sl8r6Kza0QYnlM7Mew_KyPo/s400/IMG_20200205_134358.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved these girls pink, Home and Away styled, school uniforms.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCC3Ax22zNGr8JA9Nb692BMaPkTcNifjOnQxvbweRd7rdbP1IqOu-2oVaGjpoIg9o4Mh6fXebHMC0LSTTg785A-8ltPruWJZsV47ngEt1AZnPQTFRPFxiF-7CEi3FPnp_FaIjvLYiM8q1/s1600/IMG_20200204_175617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1472" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCC3Ax22zNGr8JA9Nb692BMaPkTcNifjOnQxvbweRd7rdbP1IqOu-2oVaGjpoIg9o4Mh6fXebHMC0LSTTg785A-8ltPruWJZsV47ngEt1AZnPQTFRPFxiF-7CEi3FPnp_FaIjvLYiM8q1/s400/IMG_20200204_175617.jpg" width="367" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a hot day of climbing I was rewarded with a surprise view of the Pacific Ocean at sunset.</td></tr>
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<b>Taking the coastal road through Oaxaca state</b><br />
I was just about to head off on the road from Tehuantepec up to Oaxaca city when I got an Instagramm message from a Brittish cyclist called Dan Calverly. He was about 200kms west of me. We worked out over a couple of back and forth messages that if he cycled 150kms east and if I cycled 75kms west we could meet and camp and chat. And so we did. We arranged to meet at kilometer 337 on the Route 200 road.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After spending the morning reading on a shaded hostel balcony I decided to <br />
change my route completely and head along the Oaxacan coast.</td></tr>
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It was a really unusual day. Really unusual in a nice way. Unusual in that as a solo tourer usually the only aim of any day is to pedal a bit, eat a bit, find water and then find somewhere safe to pitch the tent. The aim on this day was to meet and camp with a human. How very novel.<br />
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I had left the hostal at 12 noon and as there is only light until 6pm it was a big ask to cover 75kms of hilly hot terrain in six hours. A big ask for tortoise paced Michelle. I just needed to keep my head down and keep pedalling.<br />
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I was really excited to meet another cyclist and camp together. Myself and Dan had never met but as we chatted over dinner and breakfast we had both said how nice it was to have 'meeting and camping with another cyclist' as the aim for the day. Dan has been cycling for three years and has about another two to go. His name on social media is selfpropelling particle. And he writes well. His blog is worth a look.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj004p0qcUuE049gU9UdqO7vgG0Pso4OH6Wly85w7M5aq5u7aJNpIvxO50cR-5erZkK97u0JUvCdOXHZlQLBwjqgZDQhyphenhyphenAxxVmXgufgwKRlJOVYpvHbkkSWZ_KOSkhNSQYk066VF9iiekbx/s1600/IMG_20200206_185358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj004p0qcUuE049gU9UdqO7vgG0Pso4OH6Wly85w7M5aq5u7aJNpIvxO50cR-5erZkK97u0JUvCdOXHZlQLBwjqgZDQhyphenhyphenAxxVmXgufgwKRlJOVYpvHbkkSWZ_KOSkhNSQYk066VF9iiekbx/s400/IMG_20200206_185358.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were to meet and camp at a taco restaurant at km 337. We both arrived after dark.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4jSz3YBVMZ5sITFZ0TxIcjgx3-O8Chf_iHOMzn5zE2g-7Juuu6x0jPKwsSMfGuEeGTwIYCPcBBffzhJ58m8fl_4qC7lkcbhn_BY2rlkHvICCPfpDhyC-2kR7WD0_n7YsEgaJPkzLxruq/s1600/IMG_20200205_092153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4jSz3YBVMZ5sITFZ0TxIcjgx3-O8Chf_iHOMzn5zE2g-7Juuu6x0jPKwsSMfGuEeGTwIYCPcBBffzhJ58m8fl_4qC7lkcbhn_BY2rlkHvICCPfpDhyC-2kR7WD0_n7YsEgaJPkzLxruq/s400/IMG_20200205_092153.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting in the shade over a breakfast of porridge, chia, honey and coffee.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VAGV-tUuMKFIBfq9XTOUfI6QctdYWV-LVEXc3qNTj_hlLK8b-d2mXaph30nEVFkNKEgWyRK7JXz7DY4HBW1ng-P3QG9bqia8c0U-0uDXIlo63qjzagSLB3bh17SArpBJV_VLpMnaNEcO/s1600/IMG_20200205_105606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1544" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VAGV-tUuMKFIBfq9XTOUfI6QctdYWV-LVEXc3qNTj_hlLK8b-d2mXaph30nEVFkNKEgWyRK7JXz7DY4HBW1ng-P3QG9bqia8c0U-0uDXIlo63qjzagSLB3bh17SArpBJV_VLpMnaNEcO/s400/IMG_20200205_105606.jpg" width="385" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And after a long chatty breakfast Dan headed east and I west.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bkPd7fhj8TYaLuiNdFFN5UZYkT5mLW7Q29yo2PmthkiNnu1lizRRLT1IAV74WRC2iPzney7cUfo8vMd49_m9OIzdPkrKtTnjiTQdgdg5AUnsGA_fJJrrjuIq-8w22-f5ReLzCvaxZugT/s1600/dan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="720" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bkPd7fhj8TYaLuiNdFFN5UZYkT5mLW7Q29yo2PmthkiNnu1lizRRLT1IAV74WRC2iPzney7cUfo8vMd49_m9OIzdPkrKtTnjiTQdgdg5AUnsGA_fJJrrjuIq-8w22-f5ReLzCvaxZugT/s400/dan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">The lovely warm showers restaurant owners who allowed us camp in their patio.</td></tr>
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The morning this photo was taken, the 12 year old girl of the family who I had spent about one hour the previous night helping with her English homework, shook my tent and called my name. It was 5am and very dark. She was catching a 6am bus to school. I was half asleep and she said that her mother asked her to ask me if I had any money that she could buy lunch with at school. She asked me for 20 pesos. 1 euro.<br />
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I checked my wallet but didn't have any change so handed her a 100 peso note. I was delighted to give her money and not in the least bit put out that she asked so directly but when I eventually woke up and worked it out, I had given her the equivalent of a days wages in Mexico. It left me with a funny feeling for the day. If I was going to give away that amount I would have preferred the mother to have it as it would have bought some lovely chicken and veggies for the family. But I felt a bit odd that a 12 year old had that money in her pocket to buy sweets and Coke at school. It had never happened before. I had never been asked for money with someone I stayed with so just let it be.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqcIjA18mNZvC9laCcPimMZ4zbehkQ18MtSDuip3vHKylaOv3tPJuq-fpZ-ryX73_o2VvCondUNIDCDuFEs6w-sSoC094HjU2WXZRCLrkJ3fX575nbKEsdnlaM2mEevYEUpA-sAEUpETM/s1600/IMG_20200205_133215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="1600" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqcIjA18mNZvC9laCcPimMZ4zbehkQ18MtSDuip3vHKylaOv3tPJuq-fpZ-ryX73_o2VvCondUNIDCDuFEs6w-sSoC094HjU2WXZRCLrkJ3fX575nbKEsdnlaM2mEevYEUpA-sAEUpETM/s400/IMG_20200205_133215.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical dried up river bed along Rout 200 on Mexico's pacific coast. <br />
Hard for an Irish person to look at after all the lush green vegetation we have at home.</td></tr>
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<b>Puerto Escondido</b></div>
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My cycle trip officially ended in the beautiful seaside town of Huatulco, Oaxaca state. I had wanted to be in Oaxaca city by Thursday evening. It was now Wednesday late afternoon so I quickly devised a plan. I had met Saskia Vargas, a Mexican cyclist, in a fire station in Nicaragua a few years before and knew she lived in Puerto Escondido. As I was two hours away by bus I decided to head straight for the bus station in Huatulco and try and catch an evening bus. Once myself and Sherpa were safely on the bus I texted her to say I was on my way to visit her. She told me to head straight for her house, the red castle on the sea front. I couldn't miss it. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1h9GSVspjTm2ssnbPMStkJ3MVvTZzwt-Wzs6ApaQMdHSXoaB7DbNYaedcnDzrLqZG5qIh-yumx9mEnND9ZFT22HQH2a362Dj70UrJcWWqG4JgK1pHLV-B4eDYDfF6f_O3MIIAH2eDlIA/s1600/IMG_20200206_221127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="1600" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1h9GSVspjTm2ssnbPMStkJ3MVvTZzwt-Wzs6ApaQMdHSXoaB7DbNYaedcnDzrLqZG5qIh-yumx9mEnND9ZFT22HQH2a362Dj70UrJcWWqG4JgK1pHLV-B4eDYDfF6f_O3MIIAH2eDlIA/s400/IMG_20200206_221127.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saskia lived in the red castle at the end of the road overlooking the sea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5D_jVLAK_RfHekamNi2WTiwMyUF9fps8aD3woiw4AdI9DU9qbU2s9t8J-fI-L6qKvqXouPRRpv66AFQMWiMYxPE7aRwz6i1oY_XhFqJEQwCO6xDo7DCv2jfra7AoEYsrhBwsAhh0SOtvu/s1600/IMG_20200206_104404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1211" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5D_jVLAK_RfHekamNi2WTiwMyUF9fps8aD3woiw4AdI9DU9qbU2s9t8J-fI-L6qKvqXouPRRpv66AFQMWiMYxPE7aRwz6i1oY_XhFqJEQwCO6xDo7DCv2jfra7AoEYsrhBwsAhh0SOtvu/s400/IMG_20200206_104404.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9am the following morning. The sea was 10m from Saskia's door. It was already 30 degrees C.</td></tr>
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Saskia was very chilled when I texted to say I was literally on her doorstep and coming to stay. What I didn't realise were that four of her very best friends had arrived just the day before from all around the world. They were staying for a week. But there was plenty of room in the red castle. I was offered my own double bed with personal fan.<br />
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Saskia is a midwife and had worked for MSF in Honduras a few months earlier. These lovely ladies in the photo below were either nurses or midwives and had all worked in Honduras with MSF at the time. So I landed in on top of a very random but lovely Honduran midwife reunion. They were pretty mean salsa dancers too. In true Mexican style we waited at home until about 11pm and then headed out to the salsa bars of Puerto Escondido. What fun even if it was about 5 hours past my bedtime.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6RtvkhW5gbpAyvA-g6mg0akGvL9kJbrxZiuMnKla9CSfW-RkLY98Pal_0U1cDs8ClxfLP0dxEtH-X0rEvVEHZILF0xPNRAJ_NENAtg4ZavvxmNdrnSqqI80opNn3pleO2jbFbUMOR-Et/s1600/IMG-20200206-WA0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="1077" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6RtvkhW5gbpAyvA-g6mg0akGvL9kJbrxZiuMnKla9CSfW-RkLY98Pal_0U1cDs8ClxfLP0dxEtH-X0rEvVEHZILF0xPNRAJ_NENAtg4ZavvxmNdrnSqqI80opNn3pleO2jbFbUMOR-Et/s400/IMG-20200206-WA0006.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saskia and José, the best dancers in the whole club.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhZs_mxHOqeJI8nrU9momRjtpT6ECFoVro153kEn12kKCbXbhzdS7SmD-TfibUytbdasxKlIi_tf5q3ZDdDs31FveypEkDkYg7ED5WsWQEj9uUZlJwSb9VG1LTUfwTllnE5H9J6f3mpQ3/s1600/IMG-20200206-WA0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="641" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhZs_mxHOqeJI8nrU9momRjtpT6ECFoVro153kEn12kKCbXbhzdS7SmD-TfibUytbdasxKlIi_tf5q3ZDdDs31FveypEkDkYg7ED5WsWQEj9uUZlJwSb9VG1LTUfwTllnE5H9J6f3mpQ3/s400/IMG-20200206-WA0005.jpg" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">It was so lovely to meet up after two years with a fellow cycle tourer.</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-13135415709930708632020-01-30T19:45:00.001-08:002020-01-30T19:45:46.204-08:00Mexico 2020 Palenque to San Cristobál<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Leaving Jose and Elki's home in Ocosingo felt like saying goodbye to family</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mentioned the RAC support group in my last blog post. A group of 200 Mexican's who do or do not cycle but who want to keep us touring cyclists safe and informed about the roads ahead. All is organised via an extremely active Whats App group. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nina, the girl in pink above, is an English teacher and mountain biker. The day in May 2018 when Holger and<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Krzysztof were murdered, Nina was expecting them. They were supposed to stay here in Ocosingo with this gorgeous family. But they never arrived. It was after this incident that the RAC (network of support fo touring cyclists) began. Nina and her dad Jose are one of the most active members. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">My temporary palace for 3 nights in Ocosingo.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I sat in Palenque and waited for a full 24 hours for the rain to stop. I wanted to get on the road but I already had a soaking tent from camping on a wet night so decided to take the bus to Ocosingo. I arrived unexpected and late in the evening but was welcomed as if I was the long lost daughter. Elki (mum/seamstress) got out a spare green tent and set up a little temporary house for me under a tarpaulin in a lush leafy corner of their gorgeous garden. Then she asked me for all my wet clothes and made sure I was warm and dry within minutes of arriving. They have been hosting cyclists for three years. Imagine this level of attention to their wandering nomad guests year after year. And they are just so delighted to help, to offer a cyclist a bed or a hot chocolate or a warm shower. It's unbelievable and never ceases to amaze me.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Elki offered to mend my sleeping bag liner. What a gem.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nina's mum, Elki, is a seamstress. She was making a very funky pink dress for a customer during the three days I stayed. She offered very kindly to fix any bits of my kit that were in need of a stitch. My very favourite stretchy sleeping bag liner got a hole mended. What a treat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I spent an afternoon at Toniná, the huge mayan ruin close to Ocosingo. There are so many sites around this area of Mexico and over the nearby Guatemalan border that tourists are spoilled for choice. This one is not particularly well known and I was one of only a handful of tourists there.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Toniná is yet another fantastic mayan ruin site. This time I had it all to myself. </td></tr>
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I spend time with Elki in the 'mercado' (the market) and each of us bought a corn stick. A stick of boiled corn on the cob with some mayo and spicy red sauce. Surprisingly tasty.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Elote with mayo and spicy tomato sauce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Little pots of boiled corn lined up for sale. With a dollop of mayo and spicy red sauce on top.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had great craic with José, Nina's dad, at breakfast time. As you know I'm partial to coffee and milky fruity porridge in the mornings while José preferred bread. One morning he headed out to the bakery and brought back cinnamon rolls. He put some stringy white cheese inside and popped them into the microwave. So we each had a half bowl of porridge as well as half a place of hot cheesy cinnamon rolls. He had never tasted hot oats before and smothered them with honey.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">José sharing warm cheesy cinnamon rolls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">José trying hot milky porridge and raisins for the first time... with LOTS of honey.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On the road from Ocosingo to Oxtuc. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's always hard to leave places where you are made so welcome that you feel right at home. But the road calls and I need to keep moving if I am ever to reach Oaxaca. After José and Nina's house I was being handed over to the next family in the next village. Profe Pedro - as he was known - was expecting me by late afternoon the following day.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Different colours/flavours of fried tortilla for sale on the roadside.<br />The dark brown one, 2nd from left, must be bean flavoured. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was standing under a tree in the shade when this guy calls across the road to me and asked if I'd like a grilled corn. He wanted to give it to me for free but I insisted he take at least the market price of 50p. Himself and his wife below were super chatty, we talked about Ireland where no corn or beans grow. They could hardly believe it. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Patricio was super chatty and like all others was wondering where my husband was.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Chats by the roadside. Patricio's wife and all her different coloured beans for sale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A large Christmas tree made from empty plastic bottles.<br />There was a little fairy light in each bottle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQ2opES-sOYMbCkKyX_EP3J2K-YSp2pyd9JZ8FUEE9SJv8iNBIJBH_6WjRL-N6fKbldQI-HtfZv5PQf-dgYt51MizwuEeoCdqOEVGnRkItgLNl5CyrtXlBavzS5EQSw4vOyxVMW2hxwBl/s1600/IMG_20200122_114425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQ2opES-sOYMbCkKyX_EP3J2K-YSp2pyd9JZ8FUEE9SJv8iNBIJBH_6WjRL-N6fKbldQI-HtfZv5PQf-dgYt51MizwuEeoCdqOEVGnRkItgLNl5CyrtXlBavzS5EQSw4vOyxVMW2hxwBl/s400/IMG_20200122_114425.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The cleanest bathrooms I had seen in weeks.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Profe Pedro and his family in Oxtuc.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Pedro's house was my next RAC house on my journey. They all called him Profe Pedro as he was a teacher. Even though I only stayed for 24 hours with this family the experience had one of those lasting effects on me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The circumstances were as follows: Pedro was a Kindergarten teacher, had a permanent job and got paid. Silvia, his wife, was a Primary teacher and both she and the other 100 teachers in her school hadn't been paid in a year. She had two choices - to stop and stay at home because she wasn't being paid, or to continue teaching so that at least her kids were learning. It seemed like a heartbreaking kind of situation but not unusual for Mexico.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was cold. Oxtuc is at about 2000m above sea level. The house was open. By that I mean that all activity happened outdoors in the patio. I had all 5 layers of clothes on me and was still cold. Silvia, the mum, cooked a chicken soup over the firewood (light green lid), made the most delicious hot lemongrass tea (brown lid) and boiled water so that I could have a shower (blue lid). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They only had running water on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And the running water they receive is not drinkable. All over the patio and garden lay huge plastic drums which collected rain water and were filled up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Having no running water really affects every action in everyday life. Cooking, washing dishes, flushing the loo, brushing teeth, making tea. Life was tough for this family and yet they were probably one of the better off families in this large town. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Stove fueled by wood where Silvia cooked chicken soup and warmed a bit pot of water<br />for me to have a shower.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Diego, their 3 year old son, was a gas man altogether.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3H-W7Z5_ITSyOozl1JPO2ajMT8zrUsPaFqGcOQj9_SomUTB1bMM0hdYmKJ5vxsXc3SviGHi5lS-olwWhsWdHPb3WdaLNK3PpH3XfDAT0Xu0jRDarCTny2Vh9qdcMPPaFC_sk7CpjC63X/s1600/IMG_20200123_104728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1370" data-original-width="1600" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3H-W7Z5_ITSyOozl1JPO2ajMT8zrUsPaFqGcOQj9_SomUTB1bMM0hdYmKJ5vxsXc3SviGHi5lS-olwWhsWdHPb3WdaLNK3PpH3XfDAT0Xu0jRDarCTny2Vh9qdcMPPaFC_sk7CpjC63X/s400/IMG_20200123_104728.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Parents are off to work and kids off to school the morning I'm leaving.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjuidjNZhF41JJkJBfeghXo_6SAmrOox2aLIbJsw5WGdo5LT75sF7AErdn-tyGfn-xHujyUuFbvYPNXYEA7Wg6_HIw0BUeCeG4FbZBK5HL_RTrTYPE4emksPHWQsuXewh-DUalKzwtTD_/s1600/IMG-20200123-WA0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="747" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjuidjNZhF41JJkJBfeghXo_6SAmrOox2aLIbJsw5WGdo5LT75sF7AErdn-tyGfn-xHujyUuFbvYPNXYEA7Wg6_HIw0BUeCeG4FbZBK5HL_RTrTYPE4emksPHWQsuXewh-DUalKzwtTD_/s400/IMG-20200123-WA0014.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Leaving Pedro and Silvias.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjayPS_63edKy8e62bOUNXPRNLVbZjmizOGn1KHae5Ndaa506UBjSquHYujJxBfGe3QYLPhoj5y9D9F8qH9EA0_U-TcGKRD6yqylplYi914rFKA7wbys2jzQ8yiSr203qLp2P4v001q-RQr/s1600/IMG_20200122_162145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjayPS_63edKy8e62bOUNXPRNLVbZjmizOGn1KHae5Ndaa506UBjSquHYujJxBfGe3QYLPhoj5y9D9F8qH9EA0_U-TcGKRD6yqylplYi914rFKA7wbys2jzQ8yiSr203qLp2P4v001q-RQr/s400/IMG_20200122_162145.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Silvia's delicious chicken soup made over the fire.</td></tr>
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<b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Visiting Silvia's Family Home</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Pedro's wife, Silvia (Primary teacher) was one of nine children in her family. On the evening I stayed with them, after chicken soup, we headed into town to meet the family. There were multiple sisters and brothers, cousins, nieces and nephews all sitting around the fire in her mum's house. It was such an interesting evening, listening to all the chat, watching various sisters breast feeing their babies as they were cooking over the logs. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">This sister's 1 year old fell asleep on her lap after feeding. She promptly bundled her up in a blanket and rocked her in the baby hammock which hung on the kitchen ceiling. They said all families in Chiapas have one. A baby hammock. I asked about sleep time for babies. But she said the babies here sleep when they sleep, drink when they drink and there is no stress. No one counts hours or has a bedtime. Seemed so stress free compared to Europe. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcjp2FQqVtBHg7Ij2uFrs1aExCq5-NNtO0M3oF6RB-kVXbsJIlsEKIWdeKLl4c9gxY4xTSJ38xNKQAYcuZc_vBSilo3Fryuk5LlKNowu8jiwaE_lwpjsFiQpJ9gsjpInvZTUxbDAB8wCz/s1600/IMG_20200122_190152%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcjp2FQqVtBHg7Ij2uFrs1aExCq5-NNtO0M3oF6RB-kVXbsJIlsEKIWdeKLl4c9gxY4xTSJ38xNKQAYcuZc_vBSilo3Fryuk5LlKNowu8jiwaE_lwpjsFiQpJ9gsjpInvZTUxbDAB8wCz/s400/IMG_20200122_190152%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The 1 year old, wrapped in a blanket and gently rocked in the hammock<br />hanging from the kitchen ceiling.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silvia took me on a tour of her three storey house. Again everything was open. No doors or windows. Most rooms were just 3-sided. And it was cold, really cold. On the roof Silvia showed me the pride and joy of the Chiapas household. It's called a Temazcal. Inside there are wooden planks which hold about five humans. At the back there is a pile of stones. About an hour before use, wood is lit over the stones and is taken out just before the humans enter. One of the family perform a mayan wafting ceremony with palm leaves and there is oil and incense involved. Sounded lovely.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N9awqaWgMAZPSj-hUhYKe0jkVASvFdS54GIKfhcmRzkpZf-BBIpA4nZw6KmeRakV4rh_1HkeWeU5J4eDViSXSc02wdDx-AfD30R6zsyAL8j-zTJRTnjjRmL9ARI9WPrU3XH1dVKgEVNM/s1600/IMG_20200122_181648%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N9awqaWgMAZPSj-hUhYKe0jkVASvFdS54GIKfhcmRzkpZf-BBIpA4nZw6KmeRakV4rh_1HkeWeU5J4eDViSXSc02wdDx-AfD30R6zsyAL8j-zTJRTnjjRmL9ARI9WPrU3XH1dVKgEVNM/s400/IMG_20200122_181648%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The wondrous Chiapas family roof-top sauna.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">50kms after Pedro's house was a 10km climb. I had just had a 2nd breakfast of eggs, beans and tortillas when a group of taxi drivers in the village started joking with me about the climb. One of them offered to take me the to the top of the 10km for 3 euros. I jumped at it.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHIJdUmDx5U3yjenEPKkIODnhMLI6lxVJ9_rH3T7eMayiX5IqmH4eFSlRpNujGS-4j0PfvgAlHyRcuv79nAAHphjflAcFvTfuDQAmnX9OrnDHmAVn6ooN6mdTFj4hCpcKH-pSyxtjEZBa/s1600/IMG_20200123_121448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHIJdUmDx5U3yjenEPKkIODnhMLI6lxVJ9_rH3T7eMayiX5IqmH4eFSlRpNujGS-4j0PfvgAlHyRcuv79nAAHphjflAcFvTfuDQAmnX9OrnDHmAVn6ooN6mdTFj4hCpcKH-pSyxtjEZBa/s400/IMG_20200123_121448.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A kind taxi driver literally hurls Sherpa in his boot. </td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mexican Diet</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm slightly amused but kind of horrified at the state of the Mexican diet. I know I'm no holy Mary when it comes to healthy food but I really do try to eat as much raw or plant-based, vegetarian food as possible. With a lot of fresh orange juice, a lot of warm water and a daily can of cold been thrown in. But I have to say I feel so sorry for Mexicans. Because there is so little running water, and no water can be drank straight from any tap all food is packaged. Every little tiendita (little shop) looks like this. A bag of crisps or biscuits or nuts (roasted and salted and flavoured) or cakes costs about 20 pesos (1 euro), which is about half the price of a proper cooked plate of food. </span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQqNgMQGnii4B6GEScVlFX-kh-guZxgHAM01CS03Hm6aW5OUHwmJWZAB-cdBXZXoTBScmZZh9UeP3TknwlUdAVjfGZ2ha5Mp3PzDhCnN02VRahhX2R70Q0NI2rUMP5EQrHl2wGoTRHn1C/s1600/IMG_20200123_130743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQqNgMQGnii4B6GEScVlFX-kh-guZxgHAM01CS03Hm6aW5OUHwmJWZAB-cdBXZXoTBScmZZh9UeP3TknwlUdAVjfGZ2ha5Mp3PzDhCnN02VRahhX2R70Q0NI2rUMP5EQrHl2wGoTRHn1C/s400/IMG_20200123_130743.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">On displace outside and inside every single shop.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I meet these little trucks and these friendly sales guys all day every day. Each crisp and drink company sends their fleet of trucks off into rural Mexico each day to count stock and rearrange the shiny pink and purple packages. </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFtXN-BS_P6Be0Fx7DAa95kSsXSQm5yndXGsMCNRqpX6exHKiXUeU63oVgkCchuracK6OGIz2YK5_Vsh4MVcyKTz6d3Iu5JdTc2qzwJPXzf25ZQ2sEifdVo-5T9LP2h6BoRfe-zVEmwK1/s1600/IMG_20200123_130941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFtXN-BS_P6Be0Fx7DAa95kSsXSQm5yndXGsMCNRqpX6exHKiXUeU63oVgkCchuracK6OGIz2YK5_Vsh4MVcyKTz6d3Iu5JdTc2qzwJPXzf25ZQ2sEifdVo-5T9LP2h6BoRfe-zVEmwK1/s400/IMG_20200123_130941.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Crisp and cake delivery vans.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNFxEVR4xdra-og3vU1YPdkcteqmb4Q8O7X5kkad25StF_nLrowjUVHXHhumZ7g6K7Bn4ovNdeALE9Ll27cDF27xlS548YlvaQibPqYotB0s5r4CK3MgOPWws2FYpvRW2ezZOubD3sUqM/s1600/IMG_20200123_131034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNFxEVR4xdra-og3vU1YPdkcteqmb4Q8O7X5kkad25StF_nLrowjUVHXHhumZ7g6K7Bn4ovNdeALE9Ll27cDF27xlS548YlvaQibPqYotB0s5r4CK3MgOPWws2FYpvRW2ezZOubD3sUqM/s400/IMG_20200123_131034.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sales reps checking stock and rearranging the plastic processed packages of rubbish.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiHw87n-BQ9Pga3BBjqhHPPPBBZJl_uZrLHl6SVg713MzLnrI8xMl806ADLM4o427oBVxeZyw6P1reJ9jXiPvJyNjw4onWmTJfjY9kbUyYikAbd5vDb89ojcls1VfvUkanPJg7SE8P4Cw/s1600/IMG_20200123_131524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiHw87n-BQ9Pga3BBjqhHPPPBBZJl_uZrLHl6SVg713MzLnrI8xMl806ADLM4o427oBVxeZyw6P1reJ9jXiPvJyNjw4onWmTJfjY9kbUyYikAbd5vDb89ojcls1VfvUkanPJg7SE8P4Cw/s400/IMG_20200123_131524.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The biggest best trucks are ALWAYS the Coke trucks. </td></tr>
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<b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">San Cristobal de las Casas</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had been dying to spend time in this town since my last Mexico bike ride. I knew it was high (about 2500m) so would be cool and had heard great things about it's focus on art and culture. It really is a special place. I stayed for five nights and was really sorry to leave. I chose to stay at a campsite 2kms out of town and met the loveliest travellers and had the most relaxing time surrounded by huge old lefay trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've dabbled in a bit of yoga over the past few years and adore Dublin's YogaHub. I sign up immediately when they release any special monthly offers (usually 112 euros per month). For 3 euros we could attend fireside classes in San Cristobal. </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnzINPJd7_e-NcgC75gzzVVNyPk18077kzUaMLWf9W2JoMjkjLrv3zOM7etexgR09qcEQeHlLFKsK0tqbS4iRfqti_i_wa6mgnjWrS5gA51CuIpNtrQjNGKGScl49smu8QhBDwAj-hmYs/s1600/IMG_20200130_210124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnzINPJd7_e-NcgC75gzzVVNyPk18077kzUaMLWf9W2JoMjkjLrv3zOM7etexgR09qcEQeHlLFKsK0tqbS4iRfqti_i_wa6mgnjWrS5gA51CuIpNtrQjNGKGScl49smu8QhBDwAj-hmYs/s400/IMG_20200130_210124.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Yoga by the fireside 3 times per week.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yl7d6rEg_M89GIw6aY2YeQqjdbbTUNGdcproRUKx016ZXDPyLEIR1woW7xPj14VuYrIjZ_jS4D8BcemCAf9gb6fF45iXAhaGyxdiRTFDfBqbvQGzx6sbUKg8tmNsaG3eJ91JQU_V7Z9u/s1600/IMG_20200127_104548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yl7d6rEg_M89GIw6aY2YeQqjdbbTUNGdcproRUKx016ZXDPyLEIR1woW7xPj14VuYrIjZ_jS4D8BcemCAf9gb6fF45iXAhaGyxdiRTFDfBqbvQGzx6sbUKg8tmNsaG3eJ91JQU_V7Z9u/s400/IMG_20200127_104548.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Fabulous yoga room with fireplace at the San Cristobal campsite.<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was always fun when a new truck pulled in. I was the only traveller on a bike but as has happened over the years, I'm always really welcome at these site more suited to overland travellers. This particular Dutch truck has been on the road since 2012. It was the first 4x4 truck/campervan any of had seen with a pop-top roof. </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9OM3yR1hvitkomrKiVe_ylN73ILkJXhrwcnh1u_EGSfVIyWfTYYtVS5n45m26rNIV6kQUyMyqVO1TEHByAAahrAoauCqJmm_qFyRGaT1FDkFTYKgsgo-9cVYDtcn_dcM2xnMmm8gvH_Y/s1600/IMG_20200125_135612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1246" data-original-width="1600" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9OM3yR1hvitkomrKiVe_ylN73ILkJXhrwcnh1u_EGSfVIyWfTYYtVS5n45m26rNIV6kQUyMyqVO1TEHByAAahrAoauCqJmm_qFyRGaT1FDkFTYKgsgo-9cVYDtcn_dcM2xnMmm8gvH_Y/s400/IMG_20200125_135612.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The Dutch truck which had been handmade in Germany.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the most gorgeous of coincidences led to me meeting two fabulous couples in the campsite. Melissa (below) and her hubby Darren were skiiers, snow-shoers, motor bikers, hikers, paddlers, wild campers, dog-lovers, readers and generally gorgeous folk from Vermont, USA. We got on right from the start. They were really interesting yet easy company and we spent a few lovely afternoons strolling around the small cobbled stoned streets of the colonial town of San Cristobal. Each night we would chat for hours by the campfire. </span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiz6ACpWkFFGkyz7d7HQRNBBdt2Ph4nllEGyuf_z_R5ICFffwoDpoezLZAsm_JKdUZTGW1I9TnqkRtmWERQCsX4ifeiD74SxlBhebUo2uxuk__DsBIuVhFMSgOO3BpZrBphB9G7TH0W7o/s1600/IMG_20200125_135536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="1090" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiz6ACpWkFFGkyz7d7HQRNBBdt2Ph4nllEGyuf_z_R5ICFffwoDpoezLZAsm_JKdUZTGW1I9TnqkRtmWERQCsX4ifeiD74SxlBhebUo2uxuk__DsBIuVhFMSgOO3BpZrBphB9G7TH0W7o/s400/IMG_20200125_135536.jpg" width="382" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Melissa overlooking San Cristobal.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darren gave me some 'fatwood'. Is that the right name Darren? He explained it's great for starting fires. I should use my penknife to slice away a small piece he said. Fatwood is the core of the pine tree and is full of sap which lights very easily. New to me but was delighted with my little gift. </span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nuIIS9UNfiUAxRnz8duUCuGR9K2kD-V0siEakfLr4zwO_S9iF-nZLZ8np5fxdyuJB0OcI0mW6krY6eAT7bhWvoLyaPQmW_xADc2NQLitjjXfn_Kqhqe3KcS3GiIA69xYdgC8vQeGU5b0/s1600/IMG_20200126_142503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nuIIS9UNfiUAxRnz8duUCuGR9K2kD-V0siEakfLr4zwO_S9iF-nZLZ8np5fxdyuJB0OcI0mW6krY6eAT7bhWvoLyaPQmW_xADc2NQLitjjXfn_Kqhqe3KcS3GiIA69xYdgC8vQeGU5b0/s400/IMG_20200126_142503.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Darren gives me a going away gift of some fatwood.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On day three of my lovely campsite stay a 1990s VW van pulle in with an English registration. In all the years I have been travelling in both Central or South America I don't think I have ever seen a van from the UK. Vans are first and foremost American and Canadian. After that they are most likely Dutch, Swiss or German. And any of them travelling with kids, for whatever reason, are ALWAYS French. The French travel whether by bike or by truck with their young families. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The owners of said UK registered VW were Stuart from Scotland and what do you know - Helen from Goatstown, Dublin. Both couples were on a Mexico/USA/Canada trip so we spent evenings by the campfire with all our maps spread out taking notes and comparing experiences. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Helen and Stuart had really only arrived in Mexico. They shipped their VW from Plymouth, UK to Veracruz, Mexico. Unfortunately their van had been ransacked while in transit. They had lost almost everything except some cooking utensils and their English DVDs and books. We all felt so sorry for them but they had no choice but to restock at the local Walmart and get on with their trip. They seemed pretty upbeat although I'm sure underneath they were gutted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had been keeping my eyes out for Mexican wine and was delighted to find a nice bottle to share with this pair. What fun! It was hard to leave.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpHO8BBPHYHZewmAImQHMlzRN0z-TZNGTIav2p2d5A4YjwO4g6ev7XVighclqs7lNeXA_GqREfFAwEcjbMhuJ5ZCmhj6i6thNwqY72SO5M-G8bxiJvs34Ffx_ZETzjco0Pt1ypdKkMR4b/s1600/IMG_20200126_134450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpHO8BBPHYHZewmAImQHMlzRN0z-TZNGTIav2p2d5A4YjwO4g6ev7XVighclqs7lNeXA_GqREfFAwEcjbMhuJ5ZCmhj6i6thNwqY72SO5M-G8bxiJvs34Ffx_ZETzjco0Pt1ypdKkMR4b/s400/IMG_20200126_134450.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Me, Helen and Stuart up to mischief over breakfast.</td></tr>
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<b style="text-align: justify;">San Cristobal de las Casas</b></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE0whBtan55C4-42vrN2oJhvJaxpiQtJ69eEYHhXjYFFpbT92tTF-6qLJVo_IzIOxSXBEH_Da01eg-HPbj7Q9POOPuk4Xz2ABirxC41PObKv7yVePCsYfUTtkA8iX19D3B9DdA49Omx1M/s1600/IMG_20200125_145728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1376" data-original-width="1600" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE0whBtan55C4-42vrN2oJhvJaxpiQtJ69eEYHhXjYFFpbT92tTF-6qLJVo_IzIOxSXBEH_Da01eg-HPbj7Q9POOPuk4Xz2ABirxC41PObKv7yVePCsYfUTtkA8iX19D3B9DdA49Omx1M/s400/IMG_20200125_145728.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A couple of fuse boxes at the market</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxRmzdFmuC-BhODN79qycwLgfWBduFzc52ryAnzcUgX19KnspEPiX6IUVZVc-QX9E0BUKuYBgirkyEmoNNLtVK4ksJ6PylvgUBi5iil2GVf-RoALyNpe3_k5FOFdk91nXOzwueavqajS_/s1600/IMG_20200125_141103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxRmzdFmuC-BhODN79qycwLgfWBduFzc52ryAnzcUgX19KnspEPiX6IUVZVc-QX9E0BUKuYBgirkyEmoNNLtVK4ksJ6PylvgUBi5iil2GVf-RoALyNpe3_k5FOFdk91nXOzwueavqajS_/s400/IMG_20200125_141103.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A bucket of deep fried grasshoppers at the San Cristobal market. Yummy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcUlFpRrfkdAn56Zzh3gnvujiddCrv2LWAqtgaIPl1U7iQNmUIAdRChNzwGythle0QSJK-IB1DZkgCyG2UnvKe9bJm622hPkMcIc0C8M3st17nDwJUeWT6vh04wcsjrhxdDhnMqSOoWQF/s1600/IMG_20200125_135349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1014" data-original-width="1600" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcUlFpRrfkdAn56Zzh3gnvujiddCrv2LWAqtgaIPl1U7iQNmUIAdRChNzwGythle0QSJK-IB1DZkgCyG2UnvKe9bJm622hPkMcIc0C8M3st17nDwJUeWT6vh04wcsjrhxdDhnMqSOoWQF/s400/IMG_20200125_135349.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">San Cristobal</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9ptzcejVZYW6senwaz3Ukf_Qb38lJHUskonWs6jBj_mtbhHpoANUMWe7eyUiLhYw-3qr3t8AOiR3k3WCyCA4ZuSGgMv6xWTxL3tPvMr1-HkpunPeNSTqalKRvYFceP_HtzPYojaZ1o4L/s1600/IMG_20200125_135443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="964" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9ptzcejVZYW6senwaz3Ukf_Qb38lJHUskonWs6jBj_mtbhHpoANUMWe7eyUiLhYw-3qr3t8AOiR3k3WCyCA4ZuSGgMv6xWTxL3tPvMr1-HkpunPeNSTqalKRvYFceP_HtzPYojaZ1o4L/s400/IMG_20200125_135443.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">With Melissa walking around exploring.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3q4vLgZO8h9Ghn8gPAmQRHUM0vjIibviwtI-pty1Rhj7QBt_GuR-8F30X_xEZZy54COEbJbnCECAIgskFFbuhxUwJjPKnXvlCN4yJJcJwBQhJMQhGUiINSMhawyWNCBIIj_ezhqcBed_/s1600/IMG_20200127_104413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3q4vLgZO8h9Ghn8gPAmQRHUM0vjIibviwtI-pty1Rhj7QBt_GuR-8F30X_xEZZy54COEbJbnCECAIgskFFbuhxUwJjPKnXvlCN4yJJcJwBQhJMQhGUiINSMhawyWNCBIIj_ezhqcBed_/s400/IMG_20200127_104413.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Darren and Melissa's truck was a 1962 Land Rover. It went about as fast as me on a bike.<br />60-80kms per day roughly. Darren made their pop up tent for this trip.</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-70058177636303503932020-01-21T10:58:00.001-08:002020-01-30T17:23:14.810-08:00Mexico 2020 Campeche to Palenque<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0W_i8TRmeH3YZ12y3WYQdNDXyJ9pHXD3Aw5maTSS9FCD9cCnCpCW-8z50R7vZxDZfnaMP5PJPwQrUEq4ONx-ZW22KviSvF9MzLmjScUlh6ki3O4GFKK2VgL3Pa2ueDIsKNNg9938L1G9/s1600/IMG_20200114_144108%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0W_i8TRmeH3YZ12y3WYQdNDXyJ9pHXD3Aw5maTSS9FCD9cCnCpCW-8z50R7vZxDZfnaMP5PJPwQrUEq4ONx-ZW22KviSvF9MzLmjScUlh6ki3O4GFKK2VgL3Pa2ueDIsKNNg9938L1G9/s400/IMG_20200114_144108%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very cute motorbike trike used by police in Campeche.</td></tr>
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<b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Leaving Campeche</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Campeche was a little bit too clean and pretty for me. I had found a hostel in the centre of town on the iOverlander app where I thought I would be able to camp on the roof but when I arrived and asked, it was not to be. I stayed one night in a very posh dorm room and went exploring but pavements and plazas were clear of everything - street vendors, fruit stalls, shoe shine men and rubbish. It felt sterile and quiet and most un-Mexican. I didn't linger too long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In a previous life I had presented a paper on Digital Literacy here in Campeche at a conference when I worked for ECDL. Back in the days when I thought the 'One Laptop One Child' idea of development agencies would be revolutionary. That was before I became a secondary school teacher and saw with my own eyes the detrimental impact that screen time has had on our young folk. How time has shaped my attitude and my yearning for a slow life offline. Says she who is now blogging online; I admit the contradiction.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Along the coast south of Campeche</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">South of Campeche comes the island city of Ciudad del Carmen, the capital of Mexico's petroleum industry. I didn't chose the coast road so didn't get to investigate but shortly after Campeche I did see some oil rigs out at sea. When I checked out Mexico's top 10 exports and imports 'oil' appears on both lists. I'm guessing its oil is shipped to the US for processing and then bought back in different forms.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oil rigs out at see south of Campeche.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every fishing boat lining the shore is weighed down by scavenger birds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rubbish rubbish everywhere. The curse of Central America.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">In the morning heat, a perfect rest spot for some audio book listening.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYT2oBGqaLrc3uuLHpRvt6UGYBowjfDlBUqqwotTyEU0OX1MjuF25lrnQmTD806IaDG8hyphenhyphen8kFlDpIBMmJYwchR-45a2KuonU4i5T5QucfpFEGzRQUdqKIZ2l8EJ4UiOmJuNoknZ-o66voF/s1600/IMG_20200115_102919%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYT2oBGqaLrc3uuLHpRvt6UGYBowjfDlBUqqwotTyEU0OX1MjuF25lrnQmTD806IaDG8hyphenhyphen8kFlDpIBMmJYwchR-45a2KuonU4i5T5QucfpFEGzRQUdqKIZ2l8EJ4UiOmJuNoknZ-o66voF/s400/IMG_20200115_102919%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Although the sea looked inviting I didn't swim. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Sebaplaya</b><br />Sebaplaya was one of those completely normal Mexican towns, noisy, busy and with a plaza which was full of life until late in the night. A nice relief after the sterile nature of Campeche. I popped into the police station to ask where it would be safe to camp and was told to pitch my tent right on the town square. I was surprised and delighted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I had just nodded off when at 10.30pm the local salsa dance club turned on the music and got to work. About 30 teenagers plus an instructor danced their socks off with loud salsa music absolutely blaring from a huge set of speakers and amplifiers until midnight. Whatever about me, I did wonder how the locals got any sleep and were able to get up for work on a Monday morning. But I found it hard to be annoyed. Here were teenagers having a ball outdoors during the only cool time of the day and there wasn't any alcohol in sight. I was really impressed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After Sebaplaya instead of continuing along the coast, for some reason I decided to head inland. It's not like me. When cycling I always trying and stay as close to the sea as possible but I was hot and a little bored with the endless flat roads. I knew if I head for the hills I would find cooler temperatures and a complete change of scenery.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6RxjjvBgDUzHA3mWzllghEBmzWF3cxB2WMcRK-ZNn2OBA0XMH4ETwdeF1UA5JMiokM1nf-YXgyGhUGaQfWsYZfbt5Duscqjgpm49p6yx-jRcuSteCMwaGU-QaT3O9mvuKSv_my9EVjrcX/s1600/IMG_20200115_082811%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="1600" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6RxjjvBgDUzHA3mWzllghEBmzWF3cxB2WMcRK-ZNn2OBA0XMH4ETwdeF1UA5JMiokM1nf-YXgyGhUGaQfWsYZfbt5Duscqjgpm49p6yx-jRcuSteCMwaGU-QaT3O9mvuKSv_my9EVjrcX/s400/IMG_20200115_082811%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The police told me that the central plaza in Sebaplaya was the <br />
safest place to camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNiEguXlTPQBmTPlBdXof-tKOXTCCb9zWGo8DTCR6_HKFZs8qwMkjEpwpbXm_tpoTIyEx7qWO8gTYaNOvK0LDTqM1t-TuN6uWK7-6163QnV-N2wPG-1Q1HQHhjJd9gCorG6w2hgGlKEf8/s1600/IMG_20200114_180501%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNiEguXlTPQBmTPlBdXof-tKOXTCCb9zWGo8DTCR6_HKFZs8qwMkjEpwpbXm_tpoTIyEx7qWO8gTYaNOvK0LDTqM1t-TuN6uWK7-6163QnV-N2wPG-1Q1HQHhjJd9gCorG6w2hgGlKEf8/s400/IMG_20200114_180501%257E2.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The impressive church on the central square in Sebaplaya at sunset.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lovely random encounters on the road</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This group of lads below kept me entertained for at least an hour. My current strategy when ordering food is to walk around other tables at an eatery and just point out what I`d like based on what looks good - and no, no Coke thanks, I have my water bottles!!! It was 10am and these guys were having omelettes and beans so I promptly said `me too`. For desert a round of hotdogs appeared which were quickly smothered with catsup (ketchup in Mexico) and mustard. We had a good old laugh about possible cholesterol levels. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I did laugh and joke with them but in all seriousness they had been working in the fields since 5am when their workday started. They said they were in charge of monitoring the machines on the local palm oil plantation - I could have guessed by their clothes that they weren't labourers. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSuNqmnaODk3IpMLkYq-fp_mQsLJdFomzHG2FSbfwRwyyly-4xvq6AxfsChp8-U9eJfl62K844pgnJbhtbhkIkk3BrsHnpinrRBM6Rd0xz4xTq_n9ZpLDrzOilNjSsN5p2n4TRwCOKFeA/s1600/IMG_20200117_083549_1%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1600" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSuNqmnaODk3IpMLkYq-fp_mQsLJdFomzHG2FSbfwRwyyly-4xvq6AxfsChp8-U9eJfl62K844pgnJbhtbhkIkk3BrsHnpinrRBM6Rd0xz4xTq_n9ZpLDrzOilNjSsN5p2n4TRwCOKFeA/s400/IMG_20200117_083549_1%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Workers on the local palm oil plantation. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The young lad below with the striped tracksuit top skipped the omelettes altogether and went straight for a breakfast of three hotdogs. His white glass contained what I thought was horchata - a local rice milk drink made by steeping rice overnight in boiling water. However in this case he called his drink 'avena'. For me avena is the Spanish word for oats so I asked how was he drinking 'avena'. So he showed me the bottom of the glass where the milled oats had sunk to. I tried it and it wasn't so bad. Not particularly tasty but surely more nutritious than Coke. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMss2c5t6eo8A-gere_HepdbGCCAzY4aHKonqfRq_MDwtpKOs0BHiocbUz6DemmbOQ-adCs6ASoJzjy6Yv71RVExE5yyohjkGCQ7fAEws_lX9g8Ragg5uBxIgtM-iV-umrAoeMXO4OytA-/s1600/IMG_20200117_085147%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="1600" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMss2c5t6eo8A-gere_HepdbGCCAzY4aHKonqfRq_MDwtpKOs0BHiocbUz6DemmbOQ-adCs6ASoJzjy6Yv71RVExE5yyohjkGCQ7fAEws_lX9g8Ragg5uBxIgtM-iV-umrAoeMXO4OytA-/s400/IMG_20200117_085147%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This chap having a breakfast of 3 hotdogs and porridge water. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uuqlozudJ-UBzApPny6Yh2auBLRJuzhc8MYPiRmjlNZwbairHyEyNxbHVH_k1FomHidJGtXl-OtuC8IIxRgrwdduNAZCRHlFTakrpJ6Uh6aNjBd4uaYJeKHPxuY7zH4cKIbo7Wh7YK8P/s1600/IMG_20200117_083927%257E3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1055" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uuqlozudJ-UBzApPny6Yh2auBLRJuzhc8MYPiRmjlNZwbairHyEyNxbHVH_k1FomHidJGtXl-OtuC8IIxRgrwdduNAZCRHlFTakrpJ6Uh6aNjBd4uaYJeKHPxuY7zH4cKIbo7Wh7YK8P/s400/IMG_20200117_083927%257E3.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once I took out the green chilis my own omelette was yum.<br />
And then out of nowhere a hotdog appeared which I packed away for lunch.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this was the end product produced on the farm. Vegetable Palm Oil. The shirt-wearing lads explained that it is used locally for cooking but is also exported to Germany for use in the cosmetics industry. And their biggest customer is PepsiCo. So I'm still confused as to whether it's palm oil or vegetable oil. I had thought they were different but maybe not.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlpKj8LP030sPE2PagGZ-UoHYcpuZEQR8py6gSnvn4_ZZ5YNEE0wTdqWWPgumEFGpTMYzUbi7Gka4atAmdp_KphvAn4T4rz96zBRwBf41glDQCEp9TGjepGiTlKj4cIMCvLg_VkCZuOEK/s1600/IMG_20200117_083540%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="757" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlpKj8LP030sPE2PagGZ-UoHYcpuZEQR8py6gSnvn4_ZZ5YNEE0wTdqWWPgumEFGpTMYzUbi7Gka4atAmdp_KphvAn4T4rz96zBRwBf41glDQCEp9TGjepGiTlKj4cIMCvLg_VkCZuOEK/s400/IMG_20200117_083540%257E2.jpg" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vegetable Palm Oil.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Los Ranchos </span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For three of four full days I cycled along flat fertile land full of cows. Every few kilometres I would see a sign for 'Ranch of the Two Brothers' or 'Ranch of the Blue Lake'. In this case we have 'Ranch of Linda's Hill'.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBQIn3i4y-IHVHO67PJBOfE_tiBgnyEtSW4_TRry3JratvSv8z7wXx92gczJHdKqVUWwbLfMV5URGIF-xQ7pD9y2TlCk-SEC8Aqm4Ziwigxd4ZN32GYtvGrCK90gARNq_Za4nx3R96aNt/s1600/IMG_20200117_103307%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1113" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBQIn3i4y-IHVHO67PJBOfE_tiBgnyEtSW4_TRry3JratvSv8z7wXx92gczJHdKqVUWwbLfMV5URGIF-xQ7pD9y2TlCk-SEC8Aqm4Ziwigxd4ZN32GYtvGrCK90gARNq_Za4nx3R96aNt/s400/IMG_20200117_103307%257E2.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ranches either side of me for 3 days of cycling.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I stopped and chatted to the man driving this motorbike. He was a farmer and owner of one of the many small ranches I had passed over the previous days. He woke at 4am each morning and along with one helper he milked 100 cows by hand. He needed to be finished by 7am when this pick up truck passed each morning to take his fresh milk to the local cheese maker. He sold 113 litres of milk each morning. He said a couple of rancheros (guys who own the ranches) had machinery for milking cows, but very few. Sunrise is such a beautiful and quiet time to be on the road. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaJcD1nH0JdFVPIWYbniOPkQ9JSgS0Cvjp7H0Dw9ki2zpegEdMxSWl9x7-IZenXuaLzL1rWO19njzxPOHVCngFLbKFKitiUAIXaL0LNUqS_gSMhuQjxTTR9DcTN84Yv-U2EazZJ_qCy5s/s1600/IMG_20200117_071228%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaJcD1nH0JdFVPIWYbniOPkQ9JSgS0Cvjp7H0Dw9ki2zpegEdMxSWl9x7-IZenXuaLzL1rWO19njzxPOHVCngFLbKFKitiUAIXaL0LNUqS_gSMhuQjxTTR9DcTN84Yv-U2EazZJ_qCy5s/s400/IMG_20200117_071228%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise delivery of warm fresh milk from the ranch to the main road for collection.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Escarcega and RAC Mexico</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Escrcega is a large noisy dirty market town. I wasn´t going to stay, but did buy 10 euros of pone credit which would keep me going for a few weeks. It was also the first time I was hosted by a member of the RAC. RAC stands for red de apoyo del cicloviajero - a network to support touring cyclists. It was set up in May 2018 after two cyclists were murdered in Chiapas. Holger Hagenbush from Germany and Krzysztof Chmielewski from Poland were killed while cycling in the area I am writing from right now. Mexicans are such a kind and generous and gentle folk that it`s hard to imagine. And in response to these killings a Whats App group was set up to support touring cyclists in Mexico.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The group consists of 200 Mexicans who support cyclists by hosting them, fixing their bikes and giving them advice to different routes to follow. I was added to this group in Cancun where I started this particular trip. Every day I get messages asking me how I am and if I need anything. The owner of this blue house below is Pedro. He was on holidays with his wife in Spain when I was passing through his home town. And having never met me, sent a message where I could pick up keys. I should make myself at home. That evening his mother-in-law called by with his kids to check I was ok and to bring me a 2nd fan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pedro is a doctor and his wife, an economist. They were in Spain for the first time for a 20 day holiday. Even though they have very good salaries by Mexican standards they couldn`t afford to pay for accomodation on their holiday, so were going to use Couchsurfing in Spain. They host Couchsurfers all the time in their small (one room upstairs, one room downstairs) blue house. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLh4xb4KG6RgK_jFOtx7pt3t9DGkcNJHjaiMruavACMgKSf6Py-yy2bslYSVB9-lIaqVN_NUsIEKYYm4vACIMZ0TbxSdkL6a9Pmc8CvWb1K4bXMItl40u4Kw9QcEar4uAJfBIgMuKlBNr/s1600/IMG_20200115_180910%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLh4xb4KG6RgK_jFOtx7pt3t9DGkcNJHjaiMruavACMgKSf6Py-yy2bslYSVB9-lIaqVN_NUsIEKYYm4vACIMZ0TbxSdkL6a9Pmc8CvWb1K4bXMItl40u4Kw9QcEar4uAJfBIgMuKlBNr/s400/IMG_20200115_180910%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pedro allowed me to stay in his house while he was couchsurfing in Spain <br />
having never met me. All arranged via Whats App.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50pr6oK-9BzkRcH0LKkwTZE0oXj64qSM5GWuocY3u2pD446O4xE6cv36t__RLpiU8VWaJOvk9NauZUV_fCTUwk-F8NkVvgBOjDI4uTTJAD4_OKgqoZJciPzKAMCTloqkqCubn8pTLwOX9/s1600/IMG_20200115_192445%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1148" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50pr6oK-9BzkRcH0LKkwTZE0oXj64qSM5GWuocY3u2pD446O4xE6cv36t__RLpiU8VWaJOvk9NauZUV_fCTUwk-F8NkVvgBOjDI4uTTJAD4_OKgqoZJciPzKAMCTloqkqCubn8pTLwOX9/s400/IMG_20200115_192445%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pedro's mother in law and kids popped over to check I was ok.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGLa2CvQ2-4aEX5sYo6q3N2tnvIhyphenhyphenuLLyzpchLUCLY0OwAOra5h0Dkc_H33Lk2LUi77xlqRjVhPdVW43yDJFUdHfkm1G6OrSOVR2lfU4fA_b1jJPn1eBsQmc2WYb877Lpxorr-Ev0G9nX/s1600/IMG_20200117_103653%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1516" data-original-width="1600" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGLa2CvQ2-4aEX5sYo6q3N2tnvIhyphenhyphenuLLyzpchLUCLY0OwAOra5h0Dkc_H33Lk2LUi77xlqRjVhPdVW43yDJFUdHfkm1G6OrSOVR2lfU4fA_b1jJPn1eBsQmc2WYb877Lpxorr-Ev0G9nX/s400/IMG_20200117_103653%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bus shelters provide great respite from the midday sun.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meeting two lovely ladies in the posh cheese shop</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following day at about 4pm I took shelter from the sun at a roadside tiendita. The Spanish word for shop is tienda but when you put `ita` at the end it means a small version. A tienda in Mexico seems always to be a `tiendita`. This particular tiendita was very unusual as it was very posh and only sold local honey and cheese. The 2 owners promptly offered that I camp overnight behind their brother`s restaurant down the road. They mentioned somethng about a swimming pool. I didn`t have to be asked twice. 30 minutes later I was bathing in this cool pool. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXGIaH3LXWdc5ZAUYIc-qc4gHHO2LxTX-g2hFNVu3BGgZElfA1iYOStuu4D_QzntFt6qzSDtm_yBc_fs6fqxb6jbI7lyvvaTrF5YWH3lP-r0pXCe9Wl9BwrU8Sd-CoCVtBz8DRebcr0Cc/s1600/IMG_20200116_162543%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXGIaH3LXWdc5ZAUYIc-qc4gHHO2LxTX-g2hFNVu3BGgZElfA1iYOStuu4D_QzntFt6qzSDtm_yBc_fs6fqxb6jbI7lyvvaTrF5YWH3lP-r0pXCe9Wl9BwrU8Sd-CoCVtBz8DRebcr0Cc/s320/IMG_20200116_162543%257E2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most incredible treat after a hot sweaty day on the bike.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was introduced to Robert the night watchman. He slept in this house during the day so said that instead of camping I could sleep here. And he had 2 fans which I promptly set up to face the bed. I eat that evening with the restaurant workers and wasn´t allowed to pay for anything. More incredible Mexican hospitality.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvubNhpkjxGfcAAZV0TKg0da4Kgxy8wZknNDoqI1j7_GV9KnAf8cdYMmvcJl4iZE1AvAKMS5crebBDWI2ZHhADoY4UITZHh5HhPO9gCQuXHU1jDf8aoXIGTq4maxtL9iztezAOaahuSHW7/s1600/IMG_20200117_063412_1%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1301" data-original-width="1600" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvubNhpkjxGfcAAZV0TKg0da4Kgxy8wZknNDoqI1j7_GV9KnAf8cdYMmvcJl4iZE1AvAKMS5crebBDWI2ZHhADoY4UITZHh5HhPO9gCQuXHU1jDf8aoXIGTq4maxtL9iztezAOaahuSHW7/s400/IMG_20200117_063412_1%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert, the night guard`s casita.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bathroom in Rober'ts house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roberts humble abode.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert and myself having a night cap of Nescafe instant coffee.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Palenque</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Palenque is famous for its Mayan ruins so is a real magnet for tourists. It is also the entry into the state of Chiapas, popular for its beautiful mountain scenery, cool temperatures and affordability.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFmLr3WzHdSy84pjDEc7NFvE7yknRvxUsKuiopbGh4OYcm13pSLVMTKYQ7s6YqGsYMbLTXLRk2vVeTk5LAWLBmh5dwa5brH6Jg3tLRdsipKzMVrFmpExv4VYyQeSKJgTgTYJX5G1zHJWm/s1600/IMG_20200118_091259%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFmLr3WzHdSy84pjDEc7NFvE7yknRvxUsKuiopbGh4OYcm13pSLVMTKYQ7s6YqGsYMbLTXLRk2vVeTk5LAWLBmh5dwa5brH6Jg3tLRdsipKzMVrFmpExv4VYyQeSKJgTgTYJX5G1zHJWm/s400/IMG_20200118_091259%257E2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For 5 euros per night I camped in the garden of a 4 star hotel, by the river where I swam each day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8B0RbOC3JeaqOcAwt2RfcdoYUxvP91gqpTpdcYy0FZUWFyhELmfs87cjfLBhcc98b2s-M_4gD9HpJLotX07bCR9PMvo2n8IR3V0JDx-DybF87sZxuu-7rOiWXsHGyTbF50m1oHMM64da/s1600/IMG_20200118_144105%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1476" data-original-width="1600" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8B0RbOC3JeaqOcAwt2RfcdoYUxvP91gqpTpdcYy0FZUWFyhELmfs87cjfLBhcc98b2s-M_4gD9HpJLotX07bCR9PMvo2n8IR3V0JDx-DybF87sZxuu-7rOiWXsHGyTbF50m1oHMM64da/s400/IMG_20200118_144105%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edgar is part of the RAC Mexico and took me to the ruins in Palenque for the afternoon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmSbIKl0Mdv1WprvlMgcrzL1ckpJV9TPNiY4s_Qy4_Db2r9aA89nbJ2MvqbuDmc_qKSVdg9XAJjjdhrrEGthqIJfBVKLhmf8fy3LonzHED4kMvewTjSRmVQocczVE298Lz18cilyz_dvK/s1600/IMG_20200118_135834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmSbIKl0Mdv1WprvlMgcrzL1ckpJV9TPNiY4s_Qy4_Db2r9aA89nbJ2MvqbuDmc_qKSVdg9XAJjjdhrrEGthqIJfBVKLhmf8fy3LonzHED4kMvewTjSRmVQocczVE298Lz18cilyz_dvK/s400/IMG_20200118_135834.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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He took me in his very cool 33 year old VW Beetle</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmRNtdChf1W9VQkNkebcILtvtHuM24RXS5ihIps832OfTdaGxYfucIF8qxL6CfzwsjodsyDxfTc2zWYgB-fl3_W8deFaKbDDYL3RmN2575AzSoZ6df13kK8Iy7unvo4Ay1OA_2BmSDXa6/s1600/IMG_20200118_145336%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmRNtdChf1W9VQkNkebcILtvtHuM24RXS5ihIps832OfTdaGxYfucIF8qxL6CfzwsjodsyDxfTc2zWYgB-fl3_W8deFaKbDDYL3RmN2575AzSoZ6df13kK8Iy7unvo4Ay1OA_2BmSDXa6/s400/IMG_20200118_145336%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palenque offers the tourist a lovely easy place to wander.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNgpcfsTIJlULAsH9sndCNsXoWbMxgOND5yTJ8BXFO_8BaJ18MHaZwhr8zu5tnUXgXGZwyBRQ9fhaSLyGrTwcOX8ig4ECOFJhyphenhyphenOwfK2G_1y5PK5yV-Z2NN9_NccHyUm7pgh9085M58D1G/s1600/IMG_20200118_175007%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNgpcfsTIJlULAsH9sndCNsXoWbMxgOND5yTJ8BXFO_8BaJ18MHaZwhr8zu5tnUXgXGZwyBRQ9fhaSLyGrTwcOX8ig4ECOFJhyphenhyphenOwfK2G_1y5PK5yV-Z2NN9_NccHyUm7pgh9085M58D1G/s400/IMG_20200118_175007%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Palenque my fuel bottle was kindly filled for me. 10 pesos (50c) <br />
should do me for a couple of weeks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Philadelphia packaging has changed since the last time I cycled in Mexico. </td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEScj0eshVHTb4GvzEcrXz5ld7304STO6cB7q1roCo-UZs-nkHl6YVtBmjVG3jGb5e06Lf9Ea6C0xVqxc__IgMtLe3Tr6xZsY2vN2Z3hBP7dQUWZg37s3ecnvIRPO2n8yAUhvMDjtEbyx/s1600/IMG_20200117_144333%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1596" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEScj0eshVHTb4GvzEcrXz5ld7304STO6cB7q1roCo-UZs-nkHl6YVtBmjVG3jGb5e06Lf9Ea6C0xVqxc__IgMtLe3Tr6xZsY2vN2Z3hBP7dQUWZg37s3ecnvIRPO2n8yAUhvMDjtEbyx/s400/IMG_20200117_144333%257E2.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">I turned my head and out of nowhere a complete mariachi band appear at my bike.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Reading on Kindle:</b> Como Agua Para Chocolate (in Spanish- very slowly)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Listening to on Stitcher:</b> TED en español</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Listening to on BorrowBox: </b>Women in Love by D.H.Lawrence</span></div>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-6008449213782122942020-01-14T12:07:00.003-08:002020-01-14T17:43:26.337-08:00Mexico 2020 Mérida to Campeche<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrujqNO3glY1namWeRVqQTTq8t5_pCMwe5MUYG6G89lIL8KqLOkJtDbIz4BE6LUOOW8sVH4nLP8AxRhtzHcNd1Or3sGq25Lw7kXCFx3x6tPOPStfVEFfH1Nm7tZrblbT8KKsE5El9jpwm/s1600/IMG_20200111_165518%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1270" data-original-width="1600" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrujqNO3glY1namWeRVqQTTq8t5_pCMwe5MUYG6G89lIL8KqLOkJtDbIz4BE6LUOOW8sVH4nLP8AxRhtzHcNd1Or3sGq25Lw7kXCFx3x6tPOPStfVEFfH1Nm7tZrblbT8KKsE5El9jpwm/s400/IMG_20200111_165518%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geraldine worked her magic and gave me a new comfy chin strap.</td></tr>
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By the time I got to Mérida I had been cycling for a week, I already had a list of bits and bobs I wanted to buy, get fixed or post home. I thought I might spend one or two nights but ended up staying for four (the joy of having no schedule). While out wandering one day I met Geraldine. She was originally from Chiapas but had moved to Mérida on her own with her three kids after her husband was killed in a traffic accident. She was a seamstress. She had no other customers so we chatted for ages. </div>
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She was fascinated as to how a foreign woman could travel solo by bike through Mexico and had a million questions for me. I brought her my helmet which had once had a cushion attached by velcro to the chin strap. I asked if it might be possible to make me another since the original had torn and fallen off many moons ago. She told me to leave my helmet with her for the afternoon. I am now the proud owner of an old helmet with a new super fat and comfy chin strap!!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2h_G_VNmxRC2n2CJr3vRYZ1Hlt_z1ESnES29gSG2UCfczA4SS8eHmSymPQuSlEUHVjhBb_5j7F4zm4ouDZ_nWJ-GMViWfXw0y-SLPXmECyCaQ4NpErLEDRsZ7jAZxlI4TtpEbScNm9Cm5/s1600/IMG_20200111_165807%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2h_G_VNmxRC2n2CJr3vRYZ1Hlt_z1ESnES29gSG2UCfczA4SS8eHmSymPQuSlEUHVjhBb_5j7F4zm4ouDZ_nWJ-GMViWfXw0y-SLPXmECyCaQ4NpErLEDRsZ7jAZxlI4TtpEbScNm9Cm5/s400/IMG_20200111_165807%257E2.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely Geraldine outside her alterations shop.</td></tr>
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In Mérida I found a hostel where I could camp in the garden. I even had my own picnic bench. While friends at home were Full Moon swimming in Dublin Bay, I had my own full moon swim each evening in the postage stamp-sized swimming pool. Not bad for 4.30€ per night, breakfast included.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnwEKSALEml0JCR_99rsCfscT7_zu1pyZKKfTHbYpQzV2t-2fkf_AeB1lkE_QrWKLJ44iuOu2bCAjx1CK-UR2tQIxi-W9RTwaMYRJ54xbH_9g2cSVQDRQ96Tivm0nN6mtIJDisGPOYwKn/s1600/IMG_20200109_142416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnwEKSALEml0JCR_99rsCfscT7_zu1pyZKKfTHbYpQzV2t-2fkf_AeB1lkE_QrWKLJ44iuOu2bCAjx1CK-UR2tQIxi-W9RTwaMYRJ54xbH_9g2cSVQDRQ96Tivm0nN6mtIJDisGPOYwKn/s400/IMG_20200109_142416.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the ground is too hard for tent pegs I use my 2 panniers to peg out Sweeny Green.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyueLbVv9azZdVIfdeWgzQ0B2eGlpvmKHM-4GoxNXi3WsWR2Cs6fhkb65ZPstsCWsMFj2A_U55Lfp0qWnTWjUpqawd-OnZsouqy4hvp_KlJMbTEMdHCDr7H1upjXsPSupFJzj4TJfK3E4y/s1600/IMG_20200111_200348%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1379" data-original-width="1600" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyueLbVv9azZdVIfdeWgzQ0B2eGlpvmKHM-4GoxNXi3WsWR2Cs6fhkb65ZPstsCWsMFj2A_U55Lfp0qWnTWjUpqawd-OnZsouqy4hvp_KlJMbTEMdHCDr7H1upjXsPSupFJzj4TJfK3E4y/s400/IMG_20200111_200348%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny swimming pool in my Mérida hostel, perfect for a full moon dip.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">One of the great things about travelling in relatively poor countries is that you can get almost everything fixed. I am the wearer of a 26 year old watch, a watch I got as a present from my godmother for my 21st birthday. Every year or so it needs a new battery. For some reason in Ireland not every jeweller can open it so I need to go to one specific guy in the Ilac shopping centre in Dublin City centre to get a new battery. I thought my hunt for a battery might take me ages in Mexico. When I asked for some advice I was sent to the 'watch market'... a small group of about 20 jewellery and watch shops where my watch was fixed in five minutes but the very first person I asked. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajiEGdoAVSka4E3ReI-mZiUhx_u1SZiaevuGA8uRmQl1TA6xvrBVIuIF2uWZBmnVJPANYyqI-bXZjhHBFkhnLsGJI0-iUdrFY9U6SBlfGynTvYeCTZIhQCls0KGgGm1LfGpWuZ8xeZmiu/s1600/IMG_20200111_120435%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1343" data-original-width="1600" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajiEGdoAVSka4E3ReI-mZiUhx_u1SZiaevuGA8uRmQl1TA6xvrBVIuIF2uWZBmnVJPANYyqI-bXZjhHBFkhnLsGJI0-iUdrFY9U6SBlfGynTvYeCTZIhQCls0KGgGm1LfGpWuZ8xeZmiu/s400/IMG_20200111_120435%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Owner of one perfectly working watch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo36FLu_KkDU1yYXciGzqL_j6EO8WgTvUsAPkbhNwj1IcT9hoMHwahRuQ0EOuJdvVUiM5bks5H0vOEvxE7w47sVzLgbabl5uwaItozUyDUTW8AaoyDI2-sjqU1fCjOTRMq5j9QnY2Tj4-M/s1600/IMG_20200111_142421%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1204" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo36FLu_KkDU1yYXciGzqL_j6EO8WgTvUsAPkbhNwj1IcT9hoMHwahRuQ0EOuJdvVUiM5bks5H0vOEvxE7w47sVzLgbabl5uwaItozUyDUTW8AaoyDI2-sjqU1fCjOTRMq5j9QnY2Tj4-M/s400/IMG_20200111_142421%257E2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some beautiful colours on the streets of Mérida.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQdaqc6S2-bCFtBgH6up7fIFS0NAhPFimzM0rnXa5S1VznvF-jVMorgF8qdHKVf2VROsMHbXejigN-vcFoUtXjIOOSeyiQT1bmlaxa1s55vVnZsLP5tkebUVc2DGlHKuqf5HQ4m_-vfN6/s1600/IMG_20200111_142621%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1306" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQdaqc6S2-bCFtBgH6up7fIFS0NAhPFimzM0rnXa5S1VznvF-jVMorgF8qdHKVf2VROsMHbXejigN-vcFoUtXjIOOSeyiQT1bmlaxa1s55vVnZsLP5tkebUVc2DGlHKuqf5HQ4m_-vfN6/s400/IMG_20200111_142621%257E2.jpg" width="326" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Often through the doorways of the old colonial buildings lie secret hidden courtyards. </td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqMz_kVZV1DlJGmuImImuQ29P8V57zvyl-Tv7nSTKU40u8AqxAEXI0PbcQQpSgkH_n5EQ27tq4sUvVTB8FgB6ytGizNEL5kFQ8OTv0443uqGNl0CtmtUzeyYHeWkJRHRWlyZOEL9nffBIv/s1600/IMG_20200113_191252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqMz_kVZV1DlJGmuImImuQ29P8V57zvyl-Tv7nSTKU40u8AqxAEXI0PbcQQpSgkH_n5EQ27tq4sUvVTB8FgB6ytGizNEL5kFQ8OTv0443uqGNl0CtmtUzeyYHeWkJRHRWlyZOEL9nffBIv/s400/IMG_20200113_191252.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A lovely entrance to a restaurant in Campeche.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMCQn1ks2lLJYIdbaBPmLdjmwnk1YzgvB7f1-LnYhS0PwNdAHUbsHuH3fqFqLjp37VoJYAWepeT_aIRYkCysYxAb_Q_hfE-3dUZywpzdb0IIYsTyPySxI9tsEBztavvRI2lCeBg_4yHj6/s1600/IMG_20200111_145248%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1505" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMCQn1ks2lLJYIdbaBPmLdjmwnk1YzgvB7f1-LnYhS0PwNdAHUbsHuH3fqFqLjp37VoJYAWepeT_aIRYkCysYxAb_Q_hfE-3dUZywpzdb0IIYsTyPySxI9tsEBztavvRI2lCeBg_4yHj6/s400/IMG_20200111_145248%257E2.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">My first taste of Tomales on this trip. Potato base with chicken on top baked in <br />
a banana leaf. The green drink is chaya limón. Tree spinnach with lime - yum.</td></tr>
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La Negrita was the name of a bar on a quiet posh street in Mérida. A friend from home had visited Mérida on her honeymoon and remembered that the bar with swinging wooden doors, playing salsa music was particularly good. When I walked through those western movie-style doors I couldn't believe what I saw. At 3pm on a Saturday afternoon the place was heaving. It was like stepping into the Oktoberfest in Munich.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJukVX8mTw8uSPuLWzxCAu44TFMxRdAe5_1OCY0LPuloz1ftcYggCcLB9UT6CjwQEZbShHoBoW6tGXLJpyLDXogxfGmqYLjz6sC2j8pFXDnemy7M7c65lDY5YKgXtVAcGdBKfPTTB29BU/s1600/IMG_20200111_162837%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJukVX8mTw8uSPuLWzxCAu44TFMxRdAe5_1OCY0LPuloz1ftcYggCcLB9UT6CjwQEZbShHoBoW6tGXLJpyLDXogxfGmqYLjz6sC2j8pFXDnemy7M7c65lDY5YKgXtVAcGdBKfPTTB29BU/s400/IMG_20200111_162837%257E2.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a seat to be had at La Negrita.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSz8RR3zUZ4bjh7uSR9p3RzQt_hsW83DHsluDEylrMbpvgVGGlFwyQoEJCcWXvTMv8iJOTlNkiblkzd37wAezzZtmmiKrVne7MLGQFb00PeCB-3Z5I38vRXkOphpaKXg08oRfLv02STjN/s1600/IMG_20200111_162631%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1285" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSz8RR3zUZ4bjh7uSR9p3RzQt_hsW83DHsluDEylrMbpvgVGGlFwyQoEJCcWXvTMv8iJOTlNkiblkzd37wAezzZtmmiKrVne7MLGQFb00PeCB-3Z5I38vRXkOphpaKXg08oRfLv02STjN/s400/IMG_20200111_162631%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer delivered in buckets with a bowl of popcorn covered in chili sauce on top!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEH4utaGYydj8EjP0iL1TSy8llyVmP1N5JTNcgRw5MxCtAVeCRMLIAT9KcsPqpExUVnZxvwmykziR17hS_48ZXyffBi_NBGR_pZ8vd4vKyzk5QM593McXia0RtyAS6iFHZ7-dyU1-1F5U/s1600/IMG_20200111_162826%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEH4utaGYydj8EjP0iL1TSy8llyVmP1N5JTNcgRw5MxCtAVeCRMLIAT9KcsPqpExUVnZxvwmykziR17hS_48ZXyffBi_NBGR_pZ8vd4vKyzk5QM593McXia0RtyAS6iFHZ7-dyU1-1F5U/s400/IMG_20200111_162826%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stage where each evening salsa bands play.</td></tr>
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On Saturday night I went to the local rodeo. I watched from outside the fence and wondered why people were paying 50 pesos to go in when you could see everything perfectly from outside. In Mexico you are not allowed drink alcohol on the streets in public. At first this seems like a pain but when you see how much alcohol is consumed it's probably not a bad idea. The only answer I could think of was that beer was on sale inside the fence.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLoWvKXgUk56hX9-oWt3qJFuBVmVaWQ9m-rZXiwwzCFtA_8cfwQw42Di27FQ4cOeqpRJB3oo_zKVEngEfnLPh21NC6uFoThZdLs9ksdjcVzTTMMZojBBV_jQegAnBu14xPPzuPeBbcAwv/s1600/IMG_20200111_203859%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="952" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLoWvKXgUk56hX9-oWt3qJFuBVmVaWQ9m-rZXiwwzCFtA_8cfwQw42Di27FQ4cOeqpRJB3oo_zKVEngEfnLPh21NC6uFoThZdLs9ksdjcVzTTMMZojBBV_jQegAnBu14xPPzuPeBbcAwv/s400/IMG_20200111_203859%257E2.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This friendly chap sold me my first ever Marquesita at the rodeo. A toasted crepe <br />
lathered with nutella and salty cheese! A little bit yuck and yum at the same time.</td></tr>
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The Biciruta happens every Sunday morning in Mérida. From 8am-12 noon many kilometres of streets are closed to car traffic. I stayed an extra few days in the city just to ride my bike on the quiet streets. I had done the same on other trips, in Mexico City and Bogotá and Medellín in Colombia. As far as I'm aware it's an idea that started in Bogotá and has spread now through many parts of Latin America. It's such a lovely feeling to cycle on quiet streets full of families out on their bikes of all shapes and sizes.<br />
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The girl below with 13 written on a white t-shirt explained to me that the Biciruta has been running every Sunday in Mérida for 13 years. It is policed by volunteers. I asked if the volunteers got paid and she explained that during her four years of university she needs to complete 480 hours of social service. Helping out at the Biciruta each Sunday counts towards these 480 hours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHML-BXs5ZQpbbK5e9d8yNMGeI7e4tHJ1ryYE7juTWsVcurC8dS1-P2juHtZ53fm3AUpW7radcDgiuH0gMoPlb-ekzyM1nj-Te7yX8SbM_bY9ZX3desqNH5BH_aov8qJ67JDdHm0kT93j/s1600/IMG_20200112_084818%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="1600" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHML-BXs5ZQpbbK5e9d8yNMGeI7e4tHJ1ryYE7juTWsVcurC8dS1-P2juHtZ53fm3AUpW7radcDgiuH0gMoPlb-ekzyM1nj-Te7yX8SbM_bY9ZX3desqNH5BH_aov8qJ67JDdHm0kT93j/s400/IMG_20200112_084818%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These friendly volunteers stop cyclists to let traffic through at certain junctions.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UgAMv4HwUNATsRJ3zxCSmhpODSdsCv6VsxHMe4lrj6pIULzwAQeTJ_OzIc41y_gQ3d7n920aHeaQCDEVWzslJ0dq9YFLSVU2TeC8GfxvheYzrQzP62124GgFlQ9j8VfsalmXujGrDMo4/s1600/IMG_20200112_094929%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1211" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UgAMv4HwUNATsRJ3zxCSmhpODSdsCv6VsxHMe4lrj6pIULzwAQeTJ_OzIc41y_gQ3d7n920aHeaQCDEVWzslJ0dq9YFLSVU2TeC8GfxvheYzrQzP62124GgFlQ9j8VfsalmXujGrDMo4/s400/IMG_20200112_094929%257E2.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working towards her 480 social service hours.</td></tr>
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Freddy explained to me that he is part of a large group of 300-400 cyclists who meet every Wednesday night at 9pm in the city centre and who cycle together out to one of the parks in the suburbs where they have some food and no doubt lots of Coca Cola.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HheWbWSLbD34glOCc05AvQefq1aIeHbfnoaVCXXk9mQQ5KnzAgecdXQKFx75xfASuQ-IglqLSg1ViPc60r0x8j5l7iRul_M3Lt3aE5o15gTNuVL4LUWgkN_5aqJ4J_dKmMrKxPTzSPum/s1600/IMG_20200112_090913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HheWbWSLbD34glOCc05AvQefq1aIeHbfnoaVCXXk9mQQ5KnzAgecdXQKFx75xfASuQ-IglqLSg1ViPc60r0x8j5l7iRul_M3Lt3aE5o15gTNuVL4LUWgkN_5aqJ4J_dKmMrKxPTzSPum/s400/IMG_20200112_090913.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freddy was super friendly and cycled with me on the Biciruta for a few kms. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7fWhOutnhN7RQsj80_Es9wkJhUBd6cfZp7nwKmVz1z5Jk5qGkcNaQLM8DfITFKIB156C7tM6sqCQjZJ22nVn5PxH75zls1Lp8J9bY8dGEaF7L7pkmE-8kDs0QF-X-eO14RB9ctPdMOSU/s1600/IMG_20200112_091025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7fWhOutnhN7RQsj80_Es9wkJhUBd6cfZp7nwKmVz1z5Jk5qGkcNaQLM8DfITFKIB156C7tM6sqCQjZJ22nVn5PxH75zls1Lp8J9bY8dGEaF7L7pkmE-8kDs0QF-X-eO14RB9ctPdMOSU/s400/IMG_20200112_091025.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drivers in the Yucatan must give 1.5m of distance when passing a cyclist.<br />
Note Freddy's name at the bottom of his shirt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1q1iRonYa7C3D5KE15FzVE923g-RDgUrTzuGdg44A6wkJp-J8b0zAeCB9GPoFC-600D6atnoFxGKvmpyNFtu3PPpSsitLe7ba2dBO7FxXUqPDthFoVhnuaiRdkAoXg9So8nJ4qC0ZbHt/s1600/IMG_20200111_111732%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1132" data-original-width="1600" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1q1iRonYa7C3D5KE15FzVE923g-RDgUrTzuGdg44A6wkJp-J8b0zAeCB9GPoFC-600D6atnoFxGKvmpyNFtu3PPpSsitLe7ba2dBO7FxXUqPDthFoVhnuaiRdkAoXg9So8nJ4qC0ZbHt/s400/IMG_20200111_111732%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Innovative wooden child seat with feet attached to the crossbar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdRlFUZah4Yba5f-zRQLLX2dcxecsTLp4ZJxOnSS5W0LS0pJgbz2D6VSQTM85l5Wd-vwtyr5aKL9l78H__aFOpj6d7rFIElP4fywT3ZybU-GAcRxamBAqKDxpFMrMs7UP28qRJenehMoD/s1600/IMG_20200112_100012%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="1600" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdRlFUZah4Yba5f-zRQLLX2dcxecsTLp4ZJxOnSS5W0LS0pJgbz2D6VSQTM85l5Wd-vwtyr5aKL9l78H__aFOpj6d7rFIElP4fywT3ZybU-GAcRxamBAqKDxpFMrMs7UP28qRJenehMoD/s400/IMG_20200112_100012%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">These pretty battered looking bikes are for rent for 1€ per hour on the Biciruta.</td></tr>
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<b>Reading on Kindle:</b> Prisoners of Geography (chapters on Latin America) by Tim Marshall - recommended by Rachel O'Connor (ages ago).<br /><br />
<b>Listening to on Stitcher:</b> Stardust by The Journal.ie - recommended by Ellen<br /><br />
<b>Listening to on BorrowBox: </b>A Walk in the Woods (walking the Appalachian trail) by Bill Bryson - recommended by Caroline from Rathmines swimming.</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-83797323277511831102020-01-09T11:44:00.001-08:002020-01-14T17:44:24.401-08:00Mexico 2020 Cancún - Mérida<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzVunUWTy0E7uM_S-aHqy_86qftNxNV607FbvdJpjGcn0K0wNtWh40nGPfkQx4aCejObxmXdQGvT5S5reOvAjyPgTyUoaEqSOtuvzGHjPQuwYzR5mH7qdByhVOpO6ExslPYGN9JmyGW7J/s1600/IMG_20200106_184011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="846" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzVunUWTy0E7uM_S-aHqy_86qftNxNV607FbvdJpjGcn0K0wNtWh40nGPfkQx4aCejObxmXdQGvT5S5reOvAjyPgTyUoaEqSOtuvzGHjPQuwYzR5mH7qdByhVOpO6ExslPYGN9JmyGW7J/s400/IMG_20200106_184011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Me with my new wide-brimmed hat under my helmet, trying to leave Cancún.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Leaving Cancún</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It took me ages to leave Cancún. I arrived having spent a gorgeous 5 days with my sister Fiona and her family in Germany where it hardly made it over 0 degrees celsius for the whole time I was there and that was just fine. Just how it should be in Germany in December.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I booked into La Casa del Arbol via the Booking app while waiting to board my flight to Cancun in Frankfurt. At 13 euros a night, it sounded perfect. Lorena, the host was so kind and her house was so quiet and cool I found it hard to muster up the energy to get my ass on the god dam saddle and just get going. Going from 0 degrees to 30 degrees overnight kind of knocked the stuffing out of me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And just as I was wheeling Sherpa (the bike) out the door Lorena produced a wide-brimmed sun hat which she said I must wear under my helmet to protect me from the sun. What a great idea and what a lovely gesture. Thank you Lorena.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms22AV9QmBiyeoRNrzz1LWFD0QTZK9_IooIfK2kV9bwA_vKHm2E-K1QD5Ge8u5iMYvH-ZyPtp2CvP_4QoKCEXLv1hpaI9IrU2_G5O-yqfSBUNHWRzvDnHCr1aw4v8DF6EQM9Ghg5dPYK9/s1600/IMG_20200102_115750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms22AV9QmBiyeoRNrzz1LWFD0QTZK9_IooIfK2kV9bwA_vKHm2E-K1QD5Ge8u5iMYvH-ZyPtp2CvP_4QoKCEXLv1hpaI9IrU2_G5O-yqfSBUNHWRzvDnHCr1aw4v8DF6EQM9Ghg5dPYK9/s400/IMG_20200102_115750.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Mauro spent 5 hours taking Sherpa apart and putting her back together. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So after 3 nights in Cancún and having bought suncream, oats, honey, raisins, a Mexican plug adapter for my laptop and after downloading the two must-have cycle touring apps, I was ready. Maps.me is like Google Maps but works brilliantly offline. The iOverlander app is primarily used by travellers in camper vans but has great info about safe places to pitch tents for cycle tourers.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Some New Gear</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For this trip I thought I'd try out a few new bits of gear. Jill Wright, an Irish cyclist, who I cycled along the Barrow river with this summer recommended a few changes to my Sherpa. If Herbie and Laura ever read this, or my good friend Sheila - they will know how much I like to moan about my Thorn Sherpa (bike). Yes guys, any day now I will sell it and buy a bike I actually like!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, Jill recommended a ladies Brooks saddle instead of the mens version which had come with my bike and had always been sore. Laura Trowbridge (UK) who was also with us on that Barrow trip recommended trying some half clip half flat pedals to stop me moving around so much in my saddle. I thought it was worth a try.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7WHriTbWShlLQ7rg367szzUa8xbIEdhH3pWxNLBOBwlxYshfOWxyFsxulmXsd9tfOrtpdHvw76W4SdKkTXF7EPKoA_6jm6dSO1TxTU4lBCehdQceSL1lUBUkJudEq0ak_gizYNavTUsU/s1600/IMG_20200104_110600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7WHriTbWShlLQ7rg367szzUa8xbIEdhH3pWxNLBOBwlxYshfOWxyFsxulmXsd9tfOrtpdHvw76W4SdKkTXF7EPKoA_6jm6dSO1TxTU4lBCehdQceSL1lUBUkJudEq0ak_gizYNavTUsU/s400/IMG_20200104_110600.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New ladies Brooks saddle with a hole cut out. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFh1aliUNBJ3bSiWptxYCORTsPur4AmSkBzqLZjuxa4MrhVXoyViNxpx16JmaTvrYOSg-UsYEQqmCt3DqNXEq23CZZqiwBX2unPFfyxhIOz6fnR9U3aTAx_Q8yk_2d6HBqIn1J2woYC75/s1600/IMG_20200103_123230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFh1aliUNBJ3bSiWptxYCORTsPur4AmSkBzqLZjuxa4MrhVXoyViNxpx16JmaTvrYOSg-UsYEQqmCt3DqNXEq23CZZqiwBX2unPFfyxhIOz6fnR9U3aTAx_Q8yk_2d6HBqIn1J2woYC75/s400/IMG_20200103_123230.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I had never tried half/half pedals before. But I'm loving these from Alpkit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: left;"><b><b>Camping</b></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">And so it was. I was back on the road and wanting to camp at the local police station. When you come from 'normal life' in Europe sometimes you can lose a bit of confidence and wonder 'how is this done again?'. It always feels a bit funny the first few times to rock up to the local fire station or police and ask for a safe place to camp. In my experience, they always say 'right here'. The below picture shows Sweeny Green (the tent) camped outside the police station in the town of Ignacio Zaragoza. I actually wanted to camp inside the wall but the female police officer insisted I camp outside the wall. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Sweeny Green OUTSIDE the local police station.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">All a girl needs is a a good ledge to put all her stuff!</span></td></tr>
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<b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Valladolid</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Valladolid is one of Mexico's Pueblo Mágicos (magic towns). There are 127 designated Pueblo Mágicos in Mexico and two in Yucatan, the province of the famous Caribbean resorts of Cancún and Playa del Carmen. They have been categorised for their beauty and historical interest and Valladolid didn't disappoint. It was just gorgeous. Valladolid - yes, with the same name as the Spanish city - is also the entry point to the the famous Mayan ruin of Chichen Itza, one of the New 7 Wonders of the World.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the fruit market in Valladolid an elderly lady was peeling a 'limon dulce' </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">or 'sweet lemon'. And lo and behold that's exactly what it tasted like. Not an orange or</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">lemon but a sweet lemon.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZc3jQYWHJf74XEjJcoH3Nb5HXaKmnZ6PzL_XjWG2RwxkYVOLcv2KgBhNUfTg7yLar6OX5A6ljhr7ZiIUeM2JwOpyuMmB8WHPsQUYuriFo0XmWL8itd2zjOYV2zQUFZJUKD5HTOkoVel_-/s1600/IMG_20200105_113018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZc3jQYWHJf74XEjJcoH3Nb5HXaKmnZ6PzL_XjWG2RwxkYVOLcv2KgBhNUfTg7yLar6OX5A6ljhr7ZiIUeM2JwOpyuMmB8WHPsQUYuriFo0XmWL8itd2zjOYV2zQUFZJUKD5HTOkoVel_-/s400/IMG_20200105_113018.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I can't for the life of me remember the name of this fruit/veg, but it was hard</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">and white when opened and delicious with lime juice.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L-fAvBb2zTpXntAFz5EIuwT4DBiPCGyoyIxGUlt5PIlTMawuxg_YdwCboTpWlpmAeydYn-L6_3f7AM_EwRiD4Cdwf05SHMY9hB0Nht7Gm-rwas2SllNc6Ykb7GCwrnnl0UmImcrXwa-8/s1600/IMG_20200105_113015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L-fAvBb2zTpXntAFz5EIuwT4DBiPCGyoyIxGUlt5PIlTMawuxg_YdwCboTpWlpmAeydYn-L6_3f7AM_EwRiD4Cdwf05SHMY9hB0Nht7Gm-rwas2SllNc6Ykb7GCwrnnl0UmImcrXwa-8/s400/IMG_20200105_113015.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is a small 'calabaza' meaning pumpkin in Spanish.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQNJ0GuxnB6ipMPXmYsG6xiWQeQ66Zyr8JkhZFX77e2vkkKW_3sPjI1qHseoe4O3j_WM0lkfBwhv-2eexwkUT13hrjJY2BVcl_d3l6y6cm0sZrMmz86r1VZkTk7YNCvvMOmlMpZyQdqoj/s1600/IMG_20200105_113132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQNJ0GuxnB6ipMPXmYsG6xiWQeQ66Zyr8JkhZFX77e2vkkKW_3sPjI1qHseoe4O3j_WM0lkfBwhv-2eexwkUT13hrjJY2BVcl_d3l6y6cm0sZrMmz86r1VZkTk7YNCvvMOmlMpZyQdqoj/s400/IMG_20200105_113132.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm told it's only the start of the mango season.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Proper proper mango season begins in May. Ooooh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: left;"><b>Mass in Valladolid</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I went to mass in the church in the below photo on Sunday and witnessed a very unusual but lovely offertory procession. When it came to the time to bring up the gifts loads of people just stood up and looked like they were walking out of the church. I initially thought that it was some kind of revolt against giving money to the Catholic church but then I realised that this long procession was starting from the back of the church to the altar. Each person carried a food item in their hand. A bag of flour, a bottle of oil, a bag of salt. People had donated food items as they entered the church and during the offertory procession these items were brought to the altar and then given to the poor of the town when mass was over. Every Sunday the same thing happened.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNQoK-F_ZwETEcxQNJeP8M-MIMjMjHJMcZl6zgTV4mcLIK2bccJNqQ5-UHwfv0adm4g3yIIbj-eeZgJBx1_Hx3i3TSu44SgKNHWvLRDuQTnTqSmLoSQzYXS4T1WRBTEjj1r99dYzD7JYw/s1600/Monastery_of_San_Bernardino_de_Siena_Valladolid_Mexico-e1528312212654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1200" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNQoK-F_ZwETEcxQNJeP8M-MIMjMjHJMcZl6zgTV4mcLIK2bccJNqQ5-UHwfv0adm4g3yIIbj-eeZgJBx1_Hx3i3TSu44SgKNHWvLRDuQTnTqSmLoSQzYXS4T1WRBTEjj1r99dYzD7JYw/s400/Monastery_of_San_Bernardino_de_Siena_Valladolid_Mexico-e1528312212654.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The monastery in Valladolid where a nightly light show</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">telling the history of the town takes place.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9kFqbdh-7naluTVoSdjbgQwICIKtv7TPGUdXIG6d-fAH3p-ZqjrD44f0aEP2dVwQZUCmzdDlYGPTPFAHDSKEA3Jg0RIF94weaIwP8mx4zJO8Av5E15er8a53A3FnHwifTxO4sI8b3GDZ/s1600/IMG_20200105_205145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9kFqbdh-7naluTVoSdjbgQwICIKtv7TPGUdXIG6d-fAH3p-ZqjrD44f0aEP2dVwQZUCmzdDlYGPTPFAHDSKEA3Jg0RIF94weaIwP8mx4zJO8Av5E15er8a53A3FnHwifTxO4sI8b3GDZ/s400/IMG_20200105_205145.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Beautiful paintings showing the history of Valladolid have</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">been drawn onto the name wall.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-LKPoLVuEGIk8rsM-IIeR7_SYNg55arjVArXol733p9_-zRAlsRAA8B0A7RndOSi62YmZCazs4eWQlRxpfVWR0e14HWPimuYmfG2Dba0P77W3HCpV_Hn2_eWhZIl3BWfQWfZLcDa6_-Z/s1600/church+V.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-LKPoLVuEGIk8rsM-IIeR7_SYNg55arjVArXol733p9_-zRAlsRAA8B0A7RndOSi62YmZCazs4eWQlRxpfVWR0e14HWPimuYmfG2Dba0P77W3HCpV_Hn2_eWhZIl3BWfQWfZLcDa6_-Z/s400/church+V.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The beautiful church on the central square in Valladolid where I witnessed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">a very interesting offertory procession. Photo pinched from the Internet as mine were rubbish.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jjmcwLMQKjCh5Xky0qdg2bAoLRxUNJrJuFocSHn4GXCv_bA_Q8gSxrB1bd0_MLRPHbdb_nGsVnAvjeyyB89iXpQaVxC6jkq4HrYInM2pG_UH91T8NFAH9KbQuN2tq7kTIJoX1T6FY6jx/s1600/IMG_20200104_163640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jjmcwLMQKjCh5Xky0qdg2bAoLRxUNJrJuFocSHn4GXCv_bA_Q8gSxrB1bd0_MLRPHbdb_nGsVnAvjeyyB89iXpQaVxC6jkq4HrYInM2pG_UH91T8NFAH9KbQuN2tq7kTIJoX1T6FY6jx/s400/IMG_20200104_163640.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">A lovely mayan dance in the main square welcomed me to Valladolid.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXxa9GliSm-qToJi4xzkiSkCpy0QaEn-n4jxxDNz5raAPPhkm01fl_xFStNVJpHlu5SvLOnJC6i6yLtR_VdAAQrd4Ng24cLoIUN0Xp9woutbi-Ep5kIfoaSVagJabTT5xU_-Y2qPzsTEp/s1600/IMG_20200106_094046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXxa9GliSm-qToJi4xzkiSkCpy0QaEn-n4jxxDNz5raAPPhkm01fl_xFStNVJpHlu5SvLOnJC6i6yLtR_VdAAQrd4Ng24cLoIUN0Xp9woutbi-Ep5kIfoaSVagJabTT5xU_-Y2qPzsTEp/s400/IMG_20200106_094046.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Lorena's hat makes it to Chichen Itza. I bought an audio guide for 1€ and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">wandered happily and quietly around the site amongst the thousands of tourists</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">while listening to the history through my headphones.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Los Cenotes (sink holes)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: left;">There are no rivers in Yucatan. All the natural flowing water in the province flows under ground and has created a network of tunnels and caves. All along the side of the road you see signs for Cenotes, sink holes, often in caves deep under ground. Glorious cold refreshing places to swim. The really good ones cost 10-20 dollars to visit but there are loads to be found just off the main roads where you can swim for a euro or two.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCJ0q7almbZ5EofbjVBaPvpYF436-8GDA4Ubbh2j-j_2BCGaiGJllrbsfAhpNKVmKTjrM3CLHrjJsFKQxBMws4jlgwqc3KJhm6P3Z43meImBMIy2i0tWmQtIUiLsNQh7K1xcK7Vheazxf/s1600/IMG_20200103_163101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCJ0q7almbZ5EofbjVBaPvpYF436-8GDA4Ubbh2j-j_2BCGaiGJllrbsfAhpNKVmKTjrM3CLHrjJsFKQxBMws4jlgwqc3KJhm6P3Z43meImBMIy2i0tWmQtIUiLsNQh7K1xcK7Vheazxf/s400/IMG_20200103_163101.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">My first cenote of the trip. Glorious cold fresh water after a long</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">hot sweaty day on the bike. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hnZ0-3h4dVqMRltLH-qnY-DjaEYfSKXECwr7Pi3rO2GJ-osheY_v3zfSeMLJe1N1dyOojc8V6odANavj-ygdzzxUYM0My5NK0WDWqehNK7lMkbwzOnsJ9fqGcQhksr2AIWVMptTDaV7-/s1600/IMG_20200106_160619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hnZ0-3h4dVqMRltLH-qnY-DjaEYfSKXECwr7Pi3rO2GJ-osheY_v3zfSeMLJe1N1dyOojc8V6odANavj-ygdzzxUYM0My5NK0WDWqehNK7lMkbwzOnsJ9fqGcQhksr2AIWVMptTDaV7-/s400/IMG_20200106_160619.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Cenote in the city centre of Valladolid inside a half open cave. </span></td></tr>
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Coca Cola</b></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm sure I'll write more about Coca Cola during this trip blog, suffice to say that after one week on the road I'm horrified at the amount that Mexican's drink. Every single town is plastered with Coca Cola advertising and it seems it is all people drink. When I mentioned to these two ladies about the sugar content or if water might not be healthier they don't seem to get what I'm talking about. My water bottles are filled up free of charge wherever I ask but I have yet to see Mexicans drinking water. It's shocking. Mexican's don't drink tap water. They buy water in large 20L drums. I always ask if my bottles can be filled from these drums and it is always ok. </span></span></h3>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVOEulie3c0rZu0hqFiKN2K4VJEFEFR5DlZALSU8ofyJXQtvgOXlpCEe1vKbMElTgYqB29RMUqIpjpBfBB4Xf97knc5AP3CkIK6X_Glhszbg8ua97MmDW97a8-SS4SFZZFQAOcxwRT3nZ/s1600/IMG_20200104_084113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVOEulie3c0rZu0hqFiKN2K4VJEFEFR5DlZALSU8ofyJXQtvgOXlpCEe1vKbMElTgYqB29RMUqIpjpBfBB4Xf97knc5AP3CkIK6X_Glhszbg8ua97MmDW97a8-SS4SFZZFQAOcxwRT3nZ/s400/IMG_20200104_084113.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">I had a really lovely friendly breakfast in this food stall. I ate a 'panucho' filled<br />
with beans with some avocado and egg on top. This lady had the same plus<br />
a bottle of Coke. For breakfast. You'll notice the lady behind has just finished her Pepsi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHYosPOJZ5iZCtJfBZKV1rGQXsl6ANESsRrNKivtnq0jnfK7seYga2O1eAc6Uq9M1DVGvdUoI847bgMqZlEDJXRAQCn5iOZhttexte9i-gL-_Ms0yO96qWx5YWctPogzsE9T7huyaRf-i/s1600/IMG_20200101_110046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHYosPOJZ5iZCtJfBZKV1rGQXsl6ANESsRrNKivtnq0jnfK7seYga2O1eAc6Uq9M1DVGvdUoI847bgMqZlEDJXRAQCn5iOZhttexte9i-gL-_Ms0yO96qWx5YWctPogzsE9T7huyaRf-i/s400/IMG_20200101_110046.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A random poster I spotted at a bus stop in Cancún. 'Wanted: 4 donors of O negative blood'.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Reading on Kindle:</b> Those Who Wander: America's Lost Street Kids by Vivan Ho - recommended by some education bods I follow on Twitter<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Listening to on Stitcher:</b> John Simpson's World podcast<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Listening to on BorrowBox: </b>The BeeKeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri</span></div>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-59611597421738449342017-05-16T21:01:00.001-07:002017-07-28T11:41:26.477-07:00Panama<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjpaaoSIYGm4Gu5eXddB_ZVRvAqYumPd9jrI70FCkgKgKdLLWeIRmVqVLTHGg7yuIc0H_FYJlIfz5b4VQNkLQguTLR9oB107h2zJl6FID-kipTBDphYwy9tJGT_udrKoKpMi1-BC660bY/s1600/IMG_9960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjpaaoSIYGm4Gu5eXddB_ZVRvAqYumPd9jrI70FCkgKgKdLLWeIRmVqVLTHGg7yuIc0H_FYJlIfz5b4VQNkLQguTLR9oB107h2zJl6FID-kipTBDphYwy9tJGT_udrKoKpMi1-BC660bY/s320/IMG_9960.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My total distance from Vancouver, Canada to the Panama Canal.</td></tr>
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<b>Crossing the border into Panama</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG9QO2UIewAYSeEul-PrSXdqyCg-hscfFvdQS9JjZ0P-A89A_gZoAmo5kXgvU4nPyWDQ5HNsOtlSk09Yz9JhNltUn96WB8Sc7wDRyVF6tm6T0SaUA_peLdSpz4Ps7L5qVNW3qiNGr9pA5/s1600/IMG_9909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG9QO2UIewAYSeEul-PrSXdqyCg-hscfFvdQS9JjZ0P-A89A_gZoAmo5kXgvU4nPyWDQ5HNsOtlSk09Yz9JhNltUn96WB8Sc7wDRyVF6tm6T0SaUA_peLdSpz4Ps7L5qVNW3qiNGr9pA5/s400/IMG_9909.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
Crossing from Costa Rica into Panama with Herbie and Laura.</div>
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A pic like this will never capture the heat. It was over 40°C here.</div>
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And so the Vancouver to the Panama Canal bike ride comes to an end. I could never have imagined how doable it actually was. All it took was 217 days and 2997.56 euros to cover the 8994 kms. And yes of course I should have cycled around the block a few times to bring the total count up to the 9000km mark. I actually didn't realise just how close I was until I was packing the bike away and remembered to check the speedometer.<br />
<br />
With about 3 weeks to go I knew there was a chance I could come in under the 3000 euro price tag so I made it my mission to try. And it wasn't difficult. Herbie (above) did pay for a couple of beers for me during the last week, but that was about all. If you don't pay often for accommodation, actually travelling by bicycle is really inexpensive. A lot cheaper than living in Dublin for 217 days - that's for sure.<br />
<br />
When I set off from Dublin in September 2016 I had a budget of 5000 euros. But within a couple of weeks I knew I wouldn't spend that much so in my head I brought my budget down to 4000 euros. And still I managed to come in way below my revised budget. All the hours spent planning and managing Sony/Guinness budgets must have paid off.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bp-vYYNbj7W2nwEaNp83vs4DJCCuRYgmqGEgr8-2pRhCDZ3uks7z7IR6qDLWEzluL8v7017wVajw7yw5T_AKBZyVMhrFQmidtknoiZv2MdK-GzKfIB_TQWBe-XHyOVeW8xztMVGHrBac/s1600/IMG_9844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bp-vYYNbj7W2nwEaNp83vs4DJCCuRYgmqGEgr8-2pRhCDZ3uks7z7IR6qDLWEzluL8v7017wVajw7yw5T_AKBZyVMhrFQmidtknoiZv2MdK-GzKfIB_TQWBe-XHyOVeW8xztMVGHrBac/s400/IMG_9844.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling along the coastal highway into the city centre.</td></tr>
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<b>Some stats:</b><br />
Total kms cycled = 8994<br />
Total days = 217<br />
Weeks = 24.5 weeks<br />
Days on the bike = 131<br />
That as a percentage of total days = 60%<br />
Total cost = 2997.56 euros.<br />
Average daily spend = 13.81 euros<br />
Days I went swimming = 34<br />
Punctures = 6 (all in the USA, none since the US/Mexico border)<br />
Nights I paid for accommodation = 71<br />
As a percentage of total nights = 33%<br />
Nights spent in Warm Showers houses = 45<br />
Nights spent camping in fire stations = don't know yet, but I'll work it out<br />
Number of countries visited = 10<br />
Things I lost = 1 quick dry towel, 1 head torch, 1 black sock, a 2L flat pack bottle<br />
Falls off the bike = 2<br />
Most useful apps = Maps.me, Warm Showers, iOverlander<br />
Blog posts including this one = 25<br />
New friends made = loads<br />
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<b>Humans of Panama</b><br />
Mateo from Valencia, Spain but now living in Panama City had no sooner joined the Warm Showers network than he received an email from me asking could I stay. He lives with his wife and 5 year old son in what I can only describe as a matchbox sized apartment. He will be reading this so I hope he doesn't take offence. His apartment is tiny. But what I want to say by mentioning that is that he and his wife were happy to share this space with a smelly, sweaty, stranger. Within half an hour of arriving he had popped out to the corner shop to buy me a cold fresh coconut so I could have some ice cold coconut water. A couple of hours after that he was serving me up a dish of paella valenciana.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZnq-PHfmxgToizFCSd2_KNrmJpGspEUeAeQ_NXEfKEReUrppaD-YdcMJmV0g7d1lsr81tK8nB4jE2VnrP7viC4MPfovCTq6SQ4b3XU8138XmbfnRKhE4zHJL_zGSFjwCOCn6Tyy4JT9h/s1600/IMG_9858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZnq-PHfmxgToizFCSd2_KNrmJpGspEUeAeQ_NXEfKEReUrppaD-YdcMJmV0g7d1lsr81tK8nB4jE2VnrP7viC4MPfovCTq6SQ4b3XU8138XmbfnRKhE4zHJL_zGSFjwCOCn6Tyy4JT9h/s400/IMG_9858.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waking up on my last day in Panama City in Mateo's back garden.</td></tr>
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Mateo is a PE teacher at a local international school but also a keen photographer. He snapped this shot at sunrise, 6am and then posted it on the popular Humans of Panama Facebook page which he created and manages. Panama City acts like a funnel for cyclists. Anyone crossing continents to and from South America need to pass through which means that on a daily basis there are tired sweaty cyclists looking for somewhere to stay. Unfortunately there are very few Warm Showers hosts in Panama City. Fingers crossed that this Facebook posting might inspire a few to get involved.<br />
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<b>River swimming in Panama</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGjbRghlLEHKBdpK0YQ05z-ggTsJOSwKFl2ycgKTIooPiiaKrdQ9ZRx4Y2vf889CbfGn2653xdyWGPOE0i78Evgq69G2sIQvolHYMmwIWR559WR24jH7B4_apihSI-dd4R2y9EPqQMTcO/s1600/IMG_9912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGjbRghlLEHKBdpK0YQ05z-ggTsJOSwKFl2ycgKTIooPiiaKrdQ9ZRx4Y2vf889CbfGn2653xdyWGPOE0i78Evgq69G2sIQvolHYMmwIWR559WR24jH7B4_apihSI-dd4R2y9EPqQMTcO/s400/IMG_9912.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just love to jump off the bike and into a cold river on a hot day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhcM6eGG9Zn05f5MiKcxrXN66xdQjfCJtyEcBqe2BI56uJO3iWuUkqYSP-j9sQ1AMxseG5zUlcc653vdufc_fBvn5IRyZPeciyJETGVuTQSNWbJCdfpQrFNe9tvdNHhsqSOhPX_72CuwL/s1600/IMG_9913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhcM6eGG9Zn05f5MiKcxrXN66xdQjfCJtyEcBqe2BI56uJO3iWuUkqYSP-j9sQ1AMxseG5zUlcc653vdufc_fBvn5IRyZPeciyJETGVuTQSNWbJCdfpQrFNe9tvdNHhsqSOhPX_72CuwL/s400/IMG_9913.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Floating downstream without a care in the world.</td></tr>
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<b>High up in the hills</b><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/34iabcZTUYU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/34iabcZTUYU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdKl3mJUuq-YVriIg7IJ6PLn2IpUo9cjYL541sIki2HtYMf6RWJrHAEOkDZtQC5aCprUBxucPgk8Z4PvatpiozFx7TXc4gshMLwcwf64DtM3wgvMk4EnVZFaq9x88HtoGc6fUuEJ_wMzg/s1600/IMG_9796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdKl3mJUuq-YVriIg7IJ6PLn2IpUo9cjYL541sIki2HtYMf6RWJrHAEOkDZtQC5aCprUBxucPgk8Z4PvatpiozFx7TXc4gshMLwcwf64DtM3wgvMk4EnVZFaq9x88HtoGc6fUuEJ_wMzg/s400/IMG_9796.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eleven'ses on a motorway in Panama. For mangos of course.</td></tr>
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<b>First time camping at a petrol station</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7-YDzQXg-T7TBuLkIo9dOfdgWkyVCP2NZnuW0wriFxroLSA3O0pv7o1PDWJQ5cz1wnAy70f_-UKfCbmHYte_znIc1klWr8pln8o9nKb2D31gic_QZqXy2ViWhYQi3_vUW5a6i59Mws6f/s1600/IMG_9777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7-YDzQXg-T7TBuLkIo9dOfdgWkyVCP2NZnuW0wriFxroLSA3O0pv7o1PDWJQ5cz1wnAy70f_-UKfCbmHYte_znIc1klWr8pln8o9nKb2D31gic_QZqXy2ViWhYQi3_vUW5a6i59Mws6f/s400/IMG_9777.JPG" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And what a petrol station. Decent coffee. Free wifi. <br />
Free showers. Laundrette. AND some grass to pitch the tent on. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBcMhQ50dWpXcX3fmHTtkTHoMzoVILEGvpt7PjC0_W7O-N9_vzVH-5t2TH6Qfwn4VzZYO0eV3e4yQQouJ_HTWvqQBqCP-B2pIeYaarw4nMHSPYEGHNJU7ICbmLAwAww8bag7xno0-tYuFI/s1600/IMG_9780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBcMhQ50dWpXcX3fmHTtkTHoMzoVILEGvpt7PjC0_W7O-N9_vzVH-5t2TH6Qfwn4VzZYO0eV3e4yQQouJ_HTWvqQBqCP-B2pIeYaarw4nMHSPYEGHNJU7ICbmLAwAww8bag7xno0-tYuFI/s400/IMG_9780.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never knew petrol station camping could be so pleasant.<br />
Eye mask very handy when you have a parking lot light overhead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhbUSnlwGpbQ7pTbDkrSqWCdVUWdQx2_1zFHqfyKQdta_W1A9IUfKlT6cskLx_wf6aecwaqelkpEPaqAq-88ScTBiE48RFNdMUSBXE-ZRupSwOgc4PP7kxU-DaavvdaWcVeAZayi6aD9M/s1600/IMG_9783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhbUSnlwGpbQ7pTbDkrSqWCdVUWdQx2_1zFHqfyKQdta_W1A9IUfKlT6cskLx_wf6aecwaqelkpEPaqAq-88ScTBiE48RFNdMUSBXE-ZRupSwOgc4PP7kxU-DaavvdaWcVeAZayi6aD9M/s400/IMG_9783.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waking on my very last morning. Day 216.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01e_0Cy3-NdGa8htArr7j_krk4ubm_YIloXMsP4ovHA5VSyu8FcKI2inKs35tfLqCYrvkkIKcNGyzHQJAXw7fKb43ePALkSHF1I-wwIHsmRzxsHg93zWUNWA5lLM3JWAFBwDXEiZet63L/s1600/IMG_9786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01e_0Cy3-NdGa8htArr7j_krk4ubm_YIloXMsP4ovHA5VSyu8FcKI2inKs35tfLqCYrvkkIKcNGyzHQJAXw7fKb43ePALkSHF1I-wwIHsmRzxsHg93zWUNWA5lLM3JWAFBwDXEiZet63L/s400/IMG_9786.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">10 hours sleep at a noisy, busy, brightly lit petrol station. Great.</td></tr>
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<b>Crossing the Panama Canal</b><br />
I have to confess that I was totally excited crossing over the Panama Canal. It had been my aim since leaving Vancouver on Sept 21st, 2016. I had no idea what to expect but I thought that it sounded like a cool place to aim for.<br />
<br />
It opened in 1914, is 77kms long and takes roughly 8 hours to sail from one side to the other (Pacific/ Atlantic). My mum had told me that her dad Grandad Sweeny, had sailed through it in 1921. An extension, which I didn't have time to see, opened a few years ago. And rumour has it that the Chinese are going to build their very own canal in Nicaragua. We'll watch this space.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfrlAHiJHOaGje5xWmMqVqoxnOhiokevX9ga5dkeEC94GYf1Es60UBAh1U2UjELInNr3kNcwr4SEHX9piHibtEkB2ghLf94HsETrjmsPGH66FKODLehftfs8S_qgIepCz9tvjpbLa1R0H/s1600/IMG_9812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfrlAHiJHOaGje5xWmMqVqoxnOhiokevX9ga5dkeEC94GYf1Es60UBAh1U2UjELInNr3kNcwr4SEHX9piHibtEkB2ghLf94HsETrjmsPGH66FKODLehftfs8S_qgIepCz9tvjpbLa1R0H/s400/IMG_9812.JPG" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the largest container ship I had ever seen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxAApStm-AEZzvWiHGzLiQuhvFIficY7vJw3Os9hxKeNxbqRUZnXGWXUDrNpxwDdP8JAxFbpS3xm28-C-zS202gF-4efuNGSq7eBTgNO5UoienrJTdovGFupY44VyEWu_pGXXAWMLjgav/s1600/IMG_9800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxAApStm-AEZzvWiHGzLiQuhvFIficY7vJw3Os9hxKeNxbqRUZnXGWXUDrNpxwDdP8JAxFbpS3xm28-C-zS202gF-4efuNGSq7eBTgNO5UoienrJTdovGFupY44VyEWu_pGXXAWMLjgav/s400/IMG_9800.JPG" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunch of looney tunes cycling over the Panama Canal together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5e_r6GJ7y7PQJfbovgv5R99MFnEhgLRolWCZuQKgzvHvcSRya2aITkqJlNhGMnZ3N363zrHXZ2jnkkBVf5RY9xUko-tmYjRpOxUIOCIXoPYyGSQjYOXnrjjPMz8cxhPjs4UsiS2eEDVo/s1600/IMG_9814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5e_r6GJ7y7PQJfbovgv5R99MFnEhgLRolWCZuQKgzvHvcSRya2aITkqJlNhGMnZ3N363zrHXZ2jnkkBVf5RY9xUko-tmYjRpOxUIOCIXoPYyGSQjYOXnrjjPMz8cxhPjs4UsiS2eEDVo/s400/IMG_9814.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Panama Canal was smaller than I had imagined.<br />
But this bridge over it was massive.</td></tr>
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<b>All good things must come to an end</b><br />
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And so on my very last day in Panama City I headed off on Sherpa to find her a box. The bicycle shops must be absolutely sick of cyclist requesting boxes. Panama acts as a type of funnel for cyclists going up and down the American continents. There are loads of routes through Canada, through the US, through Mexico etc but the more south you ride the skinnier the countries get. So every Alaska to Ushuaia rider comes through the little skinny country of Panama whether he/she is travelling north or south.</div>
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It's difficult to get off the Central American landmass and onto South America. You either pay $500 and take a small bouncy boat out onto the San Blas islands which takes 3 days or you fly. It's cheaper to fly but more hassle as you need to find a box, dismantle your bike and pack and unpack it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting Sherpa in a box in a very fancy bike shop in Panama City.</td></tr>
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I've taken my bike apart and built it up many times at this stage. But what I learned from this time was that I should always take the wheels off last. In the photo above I still need to take off the pedals and the handlebars which is very difficult with no leverage. Note to self: pedals, then handlebars and lastly wheels!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I flew from Panama to Melbourne with Copa airlines. Easy peasy.</td></tr>
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I had planned to hitch a lift with Sherpa on a boat up to Cuba and spend May cycling through Cuba before heading to Europe. But out of the blue I received an email from my sister in Melbourne who asked if I wouldn't mind popping into Melbourne, Australia for May to look after her 4 kids. So here I am in the most liveable city in the world as I type. It's a cool quiet winter's day. Perhaps 15°C outside and I have access to a bed, a kitchen, a fridge, a washing machine and wifi. Oh how quickly you get used to life's little luxuries. </div>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-13356333322797027492017-05-07T05:08:00.001-07:002020-01-06T17:39:27.960-08:00Costa Rica<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I fell asleep one day for 20 minutes like this. Using my little<br />
purse as a pillow. It was 3pm in the afternoon, 42°C.</td></tr>
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Costa Rica has a reputation amongst cycle tourers as being SOO expensive that you need to cycle through AS FAST AS YOU CAN.<br />
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It's kind of hard to imagine having hauled yourself through the never ending Guatemala, the heat of El Salvador, the empty mountains of Honduras and the endless sugar cane fields of poor poor cheap cheap Nicaragua that suddenly I'd come across this lush, first world, expensive-as-London Central American country. But actually, that's kind of how it was.<br />
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I had been told that you can pay for everything in US dollars in Costa Rica, which actually isn't at all true. They have their own currency called the Colon. To give you a brief example a 330ml bottle of beer in Mexico costs .50c. The same bottle in Costa Rica costs 2USD. Ok, it's not exactly London prices but you feel like you are being totally robbed.<br />
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<b>Growing in the fields</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">So this is where pineapples grow. A baby one here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A butterfly landed on Laura's front handlebar bag.</td></tr>
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Costa Rica is safe, has been politically stable for ever, has a tropical climate with loads of rain and good infrastructure. Put all this together and you get a very successful and productive agricultural sector. Bananas and pineapples rank no. 2 and 3 in the list of Costa Rican exports. It easy to see why. For days we cycled through fields of '<span style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; white-space: nowrap;">Piñeras' </span>(pineapple farms), this was followed by days of cycling through banana fields. The big bunches of bananas high up in the trees were often wrapped in blue plastic bags. See photo below. We wondered if this was to keep the bananas from ripening too soon, or to help them to ripen faster or to keep them free from bugs and insects. Who knows?<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8V5MzeHA-4/WQ7S2rXmoKI/AAAAAAAAVzY/NUoWGI04FR4g_pR_4dMzOS-DeOVqObmpwCPcB/s1600/IMG_9501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8V5MzeHA-4/WQ7S2rXmoKI/AAAAAAAAVzY/NUoWGI04FR4g_pR_4dMzOS-DeOVqObmpwCPcB/s400/IMG_9501.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Cycling along surrounded by banana trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 rivers merging in the mountains in Costa Rica. One brown. One blue.</td></tr>
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<b>Herbie and Laura</b><br />
I had bumped into Herbie (Irish) and Laura (English) in California, 6 months previously. You may remember the photo from the California blog, when I was so excited to meet another Irish cyclist. We had kept in touch since then. Herbie had sent me lots of <i>'hey Shell, how are you, </i><i>where are you, </i><i>please tell us you are still alive' </i>Whats App messages since California. I think as an Irish male he felt in some way responsible for my safety. It was really sweet but I was always fine. When I got to know him better I learned that this is typical Herbie, taking care of the world.<br />
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The pair, who live in London, are pretty hardcore athletes. He used to row for Ireland, she was a personal trainer and both were marathon and ultra marathon runners. When we met again on Ometepe island in Nicaragua they invited me to cycle with them for a couple of days. They were planning two easy flat'ish 60km days so I said why not. I thought I might enjoy not being billy-no-mates for a couple of days.<br />
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Never in a million months of Sundays did I think I'd be able to keep up with them for a longer period of time. But what do you know, almost 3 weeks later we were still pedalling and camping together. We were a good little team. It was fun. We spoke a lot of Spanish, ate a lot of porridge and myself and Herbie had quite a few beers in the late afternoon sitting on random benches outside Chinese-owned supermarkets, sweaty and grumpy and moaning about the 40 degree temperatures. Good memories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herbie and Laura with me in Costa Rica.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jPQu3MQ5b-ox96w4a1akADWGwHrWEzDe3QdR7Rhedmk64PpfiVlLwmlxLVv3504XSsZlA0u7bfv0UIO1kn6OwjUxm54HcI-BhNdxvsFzeQG5BaYWZT_m_JxwxbF4KPSYrEUEpuyWJNsU/s1600/IMG_9461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jPQu3MQ5b-ox96w4a1akADWGwHrWEzDe3QdR7Rhedmk64PpfiVlLwmlxLVv3504XSsZlA0u7bfv0UIO1kn6OwjUxm54HcI-BhNdxvsFzeQG5BaYWZT_m_JxwxbF4KPSYrEUEpuyWJNsU/s400/IMG_9461.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pair of them cleverly wrapped their high viz jackets around their back panniers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3t1SUtz7IvdXbk9bvbDpwtk27S2EQWBH0TK0uDVFHXLzvFcwSArNUznHe8h7jrT5bOz1UvZCE4oYLBhVWqEP-xEmPTzJPTudMgnsiGI3fNMXaJadaUtcyvl0UH9rS_w0EZtAxTugJIQF_/s1600/IMG_9544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3t1SUtz7IvdXbk9bvbDpwtk27S2EQWBH0TK0uDVFHXLzvFcwSArNUznHe8h7jrT5bOz1UvZCE4oYLBhVWqEP-xEmPTzJPTudMgnsiGI3fNMXaJadaUtcyvl0UH9rS_w0EZtAxTugJIQF_/s400/IMG_9544.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love is...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Laura throw our bikes on the side of the road while we climb a<br />
tree for fruit.</td></tr>
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<b>River crossings and dirt road adventures</b><br />
After crossing the border into Costa Rica from Nicaragua I had some vague notion of heading over the mountains to the Caribbean coast as opposed to doing what most cyclist do and continuing along the Pan American Highway into Panama. Where I got this notion from I have no idea. The road less travelled springs to mind. But sure that's just a book. After a 50km day mainly on dirt roads including 5 river crossings which took us 8 hours in the saddle and ended with a rain storm and me getting lost after night fall in the village we intended to stay in... I questioned the idea. After the most intense and tough day in the saddle since leaving Vancouver, we found ourselves 1000m above sea level and heading toward the northern shores of Costa Rica having passed by Monteverde and Lake Arenal.<br />
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The advantages were that the truck traffic stopped, the scenery was spectacular, the roads were smaller and much quieter. It was gloriously cool at night so we could slept much better. But the terrain was tough and rough and steep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Laura kept each other company as we<br />
got on and off the bikes all day long.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this was river crossing 3 out of 5.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's so steep even Herbie is struggling. But only a little. He's still smiling of course.</td></tr>
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Monteverde is one of Costa Rica's most visited National Parks. Costa Rica is full of lush stunning jungle and rain forest. However it costs about $45 per day to visit these National Parks. Even if I could afford that price this trip really isn't about visiting fee-charging National Parks. It's more about following the road and finding some beautiful quiet spots of my own to camp and admire the scenery.<br />
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The roads in Costa Rica were full of little white mini buses taking tourists from one tourist attraction to the next. I hadn't seen this type of developed tourism in any other country in Central America. I guess Costa Rica can cash in on it's reputation for being a 'safe' country amongst it's poor, seemingly crime-ridden neighbours. But if Costa Rica can manage to charge such high park entrance fees to tourists - fair play. Or as they say in Spanish - Juego Limpio! (learned while watching Sing Street with Spanish subtitles)!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDeulBXPmK3B7agzsjfVVkAsocOGiREEp061GBPqchyphenhyphenHlDF_awgOcqMQZIOw4rJG3obMqC_Xon_QMDhwtWqUXCgDoGP-Ki6Qq4puZfTTlYZoOtzw7SUpZEq3L99NRIPPIu-Hj2h_bEv56/s1600/IMG_9378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDeulBXPmK3B7agzsjfVVkAsocOGiREEp061GBPqchyphenhyphenHlDF_awgOcqMQZIOw4rJG3obMqC_Xon_QMDhwtWqUXCgDoGP-Ki6Qq4puZfTTlYZoOtzw7SUpZEq3L99NRIPPIu-Hj2h_bEv56/s400/IMG_9378.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both myself and Laura HATE descending on loose gravel. We slip and slide.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGBCu4CQE0KnXjzVBbZRa6G4zG2vmTI6v9G4yHw2wtkltUcDwu957i3E2wPo86r2ane327x4TpP1UgKadxe6IxGfQPmA-q5s7UgVL-AgGhqzGrN1JUiLtSI6Hsu3UB0MGhjvVeL17zJErj/s1600/IMG_9419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGBCu4CQE0KnXjzVBbZRa6G4zG2vmTI6v9G4yHw2wtkltUcDwu957i3E2wPo86r2ane327x4TpP1UgKadxe6IxGfQPmA-q5s7UgVL-AgGhqzGrN1JUiLtSI6Hsu3UB0MGhjvVeL17zJErj/s400/IMG_9419.JPG" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have never spent so long on a loaded bike on gravel roads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Empty Motorways</b><br />
After a couple of days of climbing we came across a 30km stretch of brand new closed motorway. It was such a treat to cycle 3 abreast and chat and laugh at the randomness of it. The 3 of us and a horse of course.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zDEC5dE3A1VYzkIBhORI0ovnQKyHKN9X1NMdWkVDk4ptWETJLbjZzK2wMOiBV6Nm7wUZqKpcM_tTDWV5AkNA__TyS_M2qCt4pguxrgSNRB6ustyy1-phoGeZZtBjqc7Wbd0DApAKPkJ1/s1600/IMG_9434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zDEC5dE3A1VYzkIBhORI0ovnQKyHKN9X1NMdWkVDk4ptWETJLbjZzK2wMOiBV6Nm7wUZqKpcM_tTDWV5AkNA__TyS_M2qCt4pguxrgSNRB6ustyy1-phoGeZZtBjqc7Wbd0DApAKPkJ1/s400/IMG_9434.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us and a horse enjoying 30kms of empty motorway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5-vunz2qnZNL1f3ks0sZCgOMOHDoDxpwlTUPizaWqv7IYunAu5Q1mpHkdR06fN23X7bN7UdaadD0l_TKLyeXV5A3f4IOsf9KIhW3EPgQT_KV_nuIb86ax3xau6H5H-X-5EOQyYhNuleF/s1600/IMG_9437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5-vunz2qnZNL1f3ks0sZCgOMOHDoDxpwlTUPizaWqv7IYunAu5Q1mpHkdR06fN23X7bN7UdaadD0l_TKLyeXV5A3f4IOsf9KIhW3EPgQT_KV_nuIb86ax3xau6H5H-X-5EOQyYhNuleF/s400/IMG_9437.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I remember once being allowed to cycle on the M3 in Co. Meath before it was <br />
opened. Such a great feeling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Camping in Costa Rica</b><br />
Unfortunately the Bomberos didn't let us camp at the fire stations in Costa Rica. Boo hoo. When I was first told 'no, you can't camp here' I felt almost personally offended. I stated that I had been camping at Central American fire stations since Tijuana in Northern Mexico. I have to admit I had developed a feeling of entitlement and suddenly I was being turned away. They were of course the nicest, cleanest, best equipped stations but it was not to be. In busy towns when wild camping wasn't an option we headed instead of the police stations or better still the Red Cross.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQhZVGEmEmcW803neJlpFi0gZ40VuWaywvB_U_5VU88vOpd-ALWpOjew390polD3FOWq1wl7y_slUm-Uj-SISv3R5xkCPC1mEBK0DfRDGH49Fz6DlYtGouTAeSsUktLDw2ZYGVgw0WkIl/s1600/IMG_9535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQhZVGEmEmcW803neJlpFi0gZ40VuWaywvB_U_5VU88vOpd-ALWpOjew390polD3FOWq1wl7y_slUm-Uj-SISv3R5xkCPC1mEBK0DfRDGH49Fz6DlYtGouTAeSsUktLDw2ZYGVgw0WkIl/s400/IMG_9535.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great to swim in the warm Caribbean after a hot sticky day on the bikes. This is<br />
Puerto Viejo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEHCENaX8EGzAxyRsfBOYTcdfCqTZuTWzP7YmsGp0Hz4IYW4frMNhUKLu2O4PNz4UAL_WWrGTYA3h8rWiclHgcdluahjMdTie4hpXXkwtIPg1BpWfDPQ897ydjW9JnjGh6IMvH3Amaoc/s1600/IMG_9532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEHCENaX8EGzAxyRsfBOYTcdfCqTZuTWzP7YmsGp0Hz4IYW4frMNhUKLu2O4PNz4UAL_WWrGTYA3h8rWiclHgcdluahjMdTie4hpXXkwtIPg1BpWfDPQ897ydjW9JnjGh6IMvH3Amaoc/s400/IMG_9532.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherpa waits while I take a dip at sunset.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3BXuZk-31EqHaBluIZI5irjkA5eZPd29OS28SQBTJ5G98cT2rUIT4TCX60YwhHMo3ke4LKoW0Am_SFV5CUMCFYXUBafc_l4zS1kW4QyavP1A470Sl2tl7sIDB0aFrioc8oJSWMDyYVRQ/s1600/IMG_9516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3BXuZk-31EqHaBluIZI5irjkA5eZPd29OS28SQBTJ5G98cT2rUIT4TCX60YwhHMo3ke4LKoW0Am_SFV5CUMCFYXUBafc_l4zS1kW4QyavP1A470Sl2tl7sIDB0aFrioc8oJSWMDyYVRQ/s400/IMG_9516.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An $8 campsite in Costa Rica gets you your very own plastic tarpaulin and table and chair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl5sqMzF7Oge0xrRLP6ij1HDsCDJnyK6olRugkLO_0vvbtuK9GfOn058KUS7O7cigd2O0iQQm9JWO-uEDQYUQCSPQLqGA5eUIIzS1itGv48AlfByGmtWnmXTjSAb5nfu8_diTjtewn7aD/s1600/IMG_9473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl5sqMzF7Oge0xrRLP6ij1HDsCDJnyK6olRugkLO_0vvbtuK9GfOn058KUS7O7cigd2O0iQQm9JWO-uEDQYUQCSPQLqGA5eUIIzS1itGv48AlfByGmtWnmXTjSAb5nfu8_diTjtewn7aD/s400/IMG_9473.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On this particular night poor Herbie didn't sleep a wink. Some locals had come down <br />
to the river to drink some cans and do some drugs. With my magic wax ear plugs, I slept through it all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rjRTRiM9HVjruScLViB-iVp7ZdQLsJxEjrUQnMLYAn8mf58S9G1cTgflLda79oQ83VnzM4Q7O753xxEUAr6ISMV3VMa4H0wCW_cEAdsakG498npsd1CxXHdDemT0ZXGNfC-3gv8eGaub/s1600/IMG_9454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rjRTRiM9HVjruScLViB-iVp7ZdQLsJxEjrUQnMLYAn8mf58S9G1cTgflLda79oQ83VnzM4Q7O753xxEUAr6ISMV3VMa4H0wCW_cEAdsakG498npsd1CxXHdDemT0ZXGNfC-3gv8eGaub/s400/IMG_9454.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes Herbie and Laura opted for a hotel. On this occasion the local police<br />
allowed me camp in their garden and fed me breakfast of scrambled egg sambos and coffee the next morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRFoGyqFvBBIWV9T82_9mCHT3GHIcxAkUBnSknt6ZfTEzsqqEpPSTVTG0lZ8-NyFTKf3hyphenhyphenWy9cDru2jIDfxcTj2XKhXPsb_HVG8ZCHB9gmXuexr3UQlGvK9l7CPdh20qGj5Xhn3mqJWRJ/s1600/IMG_9420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRFoGyqFvBBIWV9T82_9mCHT3GHIcxAkUBnSknt6ZfTEzsqqEpPSTVTG0lZ8-NyFTKf3hyphenhyphenWy9cDru2jIDfxcTj2XKhXPsb_HVG8ZCHB9gmXuexr3UQlGvK9l7CPdh20qGj5Xhn3mqJWRJ/s400/IMG_9420.JPG" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The troops are getting porridge served by a trowel.<br />
The best light-weight pot stirrer known to man.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-3236311088458683442017-04-28T19:09:00.000-07:002018-01-16T05:17:19.373-08:00Nicaragua<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z2OSPLeisFB4ohj_5OEJDnHPMTytEXgabWt2-H6uOWltvcW5lSkLYbhiNN-UgmA0ygbTQHT1IatkR6Dd2C9R3WhFy2dYfXJR9XoB7NxyDVCp-7OX076vjrId77yaHq5q80VtBF5eQ-iJ/s1600/IMG_9182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z2OSPLeisFB4ohj_5OEJDnHPMTytEXgabWt2-H6uOWltvcW5lSkLYbhiNN-UgmA0ygbTQHT1IatkR6Dd2C9R3WhFy2dYfXJR9XoB7NxyDVCp-7OX076vjrId77yaHq5q80VtBF5eQ-iJ/s400/IMG_9182.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shell and Sherpa and a big yellow ex-US school bus in the background.<br />
Central America is where all the old American buses come to die.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US">I had intended to stay for 2-3 weeks in Nicaragua and was looking forward to what all the cyclists refer to as a super cheap and super friendly country. However I had spent a little bit longer than expected in Honduras so in the end cycled right through Nicaragua in less than a week. Here are some impressions from the road.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The roads in Nicaragua were largely good. And interestingly there was no litter on the roadside, a problem which plaques Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras. Each day in Nicaragua I saw men in orange uniforms picking up rubbish along the roadside. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Workers in the tobacco fields carrying large crates on their shoulders.</td></tr>
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I have visited many countries in my life time but none where I saw tobacco growing in the fields. Suddenly this lush green healthy looking crop appeared on the roadside all around me and I didn't know what it was. That was until I saw some huge processing facilities. All US owned. All spanking new. This photo above reminded me of ants coming in and out of their ant hole carrying loads way beyond their own weight.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are now at the end of the dry season. In May the rains will come.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Una maravilla. A big plate of tasty cooked food costs .75c in Nicaragua.<br />
Gallo Pinto (rice and beans) mixed, salad, an empanada and some fried chicken.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first time I tasted Gallo Pinto (mixed beans and rice) the national dish, was<br />
from this street vendor.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US">In the blogpost I wrote about El Salvador I mentioned how strange it was to have come across so many individuals with kidney disease. If I remember correctly I had met 3 individuals during a short 2 week stay in El Salvador who were all on kidney dialyses. Leafing through the Guardian newspaper online recently I found <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/mar/19/mystery-deaths-nicaragua-sugarcane-fields" target="_blank">this article</a>. It's exactly the same story I heard from the locals. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">The most close-up picture I got of sugar cane being cut in the fields.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roads were largely good until they weren't. When the shoulder<br />
disappeared and became a big sandy hole. </td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US">I laugh when I look at this photo below. As good friends of mine will know neither my bike nor my saddle are good friends of mine. My cross bar on my bike is too long which pushes my butt too far back and makes me have to stretch forward with my hands. And the nails on my leather Brooks B17 saddle stick into me and give me lovely red rashes which have now turned into hard calluses on my butt. And then these calluses peel and get all flaky. Lovely.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">During this whole trip I have been wondering how I could smooth some nails into my leather saddle. So when I saw this shop on the roadside in Nicaragua I thought to myself that this might just be the perfect place. A shop selling leather saddles will surely be able to convert my bum-hurting-seat into some sort of a comfy armchair. Surely. And what do I do? Well I rode on by and thought well sure I'll stop in the next leather saddle shop. Except there was no next saddle shop. Doh.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this photo. It makes me feel like I'm living in a different century. </td></tr>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Saskia<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Crossing over the border from Honduras to Nicaragua I headed straight to the bomberos. And low and behold there tucked away in the corner behind a mighty big fire engine was a lovely little Mexican solo female cyclists. What a treat. We both jumped up and down for a bit and </span>squealed<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> in high pitched voices while working out that we both spoke English and both spoke Spanish and most importantly were both riding south. And so it was. A 4 day friendship made in a fire station. Her name was Saskia Vargas. She was from Mexico city and was none other than a traditional Mexican home-birthing midwife. She was cycling to Argentina to deliver a baby. As you do.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8ZR3sTFMRWTH2C_OjrYgTJ-McDCy0KyFTCJmETb2OeKV6flmsvnFyrEAqWmv04BDHM8H62InlH5RnD6ape_Y1ga1NZNdKws2BOsXIZv1qHNUZLB2x2aUVaFSmLhXfxE4l_UZvJcvKiN5/s1600/IMG_9065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8ZR3sTFMRWTH2C_OjrYgTJ-McDCy0KyFTCJmETb2OeKV6flmsvnFyrEAqWmv04BDHM8H62InlH5RnD6ape_Y1ga1NZNdKws2BOsXIZv1qHNUZLB2x2aUVaFSmLhXfxE4l_UZvJcvKiN5/s400/IMG_9065.JPG" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saskia. A great Mexican gal. Prior to this trip she never owned a bicycle. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LVCLvFsTdpuOASBY9_Kmv6R3dC9VX7YlfL86X61aQlXpvGwKXjVGpIEyi_SEzxF_8Pj_hnnijic0qJfXwzMaHZd_sSigTyGQAJVVNV6_7Lkb3KkiA8Gorqw_0-fmGkUsP3GtHipq8X0f/s1600/IMG_9292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LVCLvFsTdpuOASBY9_Kmv6R3dC9VX7YlfL86X61aQlXpvGwKXjVGpIEyi_SEzxF_8Pj_hnnijic0qJfXwzMaHZd_sSigTyGQAJVVNV6_7Lkb3KkiA8Gorqw_0-fmGkUsP3GtHipq8X0f/s400/IMG_9292.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and herself having the craic with the bomberos in Nicaragua.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4-vPQJ8lJY9exEy5LrGEm5uZctUeAcV_mtU0OwSFp8ADLCyUhUyzoUc95O7l_GgOsLix54lPOj6KQbBld7VKoGnPkFR2nBcslXfgOTZWrjBQknUkIX9x4D3Wx0g8MZK-j8Ckc9PBTSZ4/s1600/IMG_9293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4-vPQJ8lJY9exEy5LrGEm5uZctUeAcV_mtU0OwSFp8ADLCyUhUyzoUc95O7l_GgOsLix54lPOj6KQbBld7VKoGnPkFR2nBcslXfgOTZWrjBQknUkIX9x4D3Wx0g8MZK-j8Ckc9PBTSZ4/s400/IMG_9293.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Messing around with the firemen's uniforms.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US">So Saskia the non-cyclist cyclists taught me a few very handy tricks. Trick 1 was to get a bed in the bomberos (fire station). Up until this point I had always rocked up and asked if I could kindly camp but her approach was more 'could we stay'. She had worked out that each fire station has a small room for the female fire fighters. And voila, so it was, staying with Saskia in the Nicaraguan fire stations actually resulted in us both getting beds to sleep on. No air conditioning just yet, but beds.<br /> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-eWOSawQb0XnLjE_9vKFeAyfRkNdIcAg2HfiW0U54IuKbVOJlkj7rdmFznGPDCaZbYiuMssBaPvegp3fgbKXKuGc5KHWy_eccwQtbUkULzn0YAX00fYsegw2kG_pENY52B3iJCt3H1_F/s1600/IMG_9096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-eWOSawQb0XnLjE_9vKFeAyfRkNdIcAg2HfiW0U54IuKbVOJlkj7rdmFznGPDCaZbYiuMssBaPvegp3fgbKXKuGc5KHWy_eccwQtbUkULzn0YAX00fYsegw2kG_pENY52B3iJCt3H1_F/s400/IMG_9096.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little thirsty after a long sweaty day on the bikes.</td></tr>
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Nicaraguan
bike shop</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmluqsWYHSHtKI0nW8FHLIkux4AeWEFS0vpqJLfX0KsXctxZcvHjNYIp6A8SyeUtWTlh4ldANHw5cd5v5WXQ4xyTRWDUij62KvxRiLCD1fQWUTmBDM0Mk2Rhpuz7SRkDWMSXfhvCfXmsl/s1600/IMG_9129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmluqsWYHSHtKI0nW8FHLIkux4AeWEFS0vpqJLfX0KsXctxZcvHjNYIp6A8SyeUtWTlh4ldANHw5cd5v5WXQ4xyTRWDUij62KvxRiLCD1fQWUTmBDM0Mk2Rhpuz7SRkDWMSXfhvCfXmsl/s400/IMG_9129.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went to a bike shop to get new brake pads for Saskia's bike.<br />
The dad chatted to us while his 8 year old son repaired the brakes. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsImyjpBEIUvm3mtZbJynvFWulWV3bBGLHDpAfSHK3RAWv6cMxlVuYKJhaUlpUIp_msbzSPOeJ-4e7mOaV07nlCUtJByYbqAy0wuz-Ac6zvSbmUl1xPGxIV9jrECGP7LKmzPW4zf9duiTO/s1600/IMG_9119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsImyjpBEIUvm3mtZbJynvFWulWV3bBGLHDpAfSHK3RAWv6cMxlVuYKJhaUlpUIp_msbzSPOeJ-4e7mOaV07nlCUtJByYbqAy0wuz-Ac6zvSbmUl1xPGxIV9jrECGP7LKmzPW4zf9duiTO/s400/IMG_9119.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quite liked this sign in the bike shop.<br />
Smoking is suicide. So go and commit suicide somewhere else please.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Along
the roadside<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I cycled through Nicaragua on Palm Sunday. There were all sorts of celebrations going on. One particularly interesting one was the Penata. A paper mache man containing lots of sweets in his tummy is hung from the roof and blindfolded kids lash out trying to smash it with a baton. It's a tradition I have seen in lots of Spanish speaking countries. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIe4JnaV16ofu7AptyKvEk8TaIMjCHX55GcVtdGoYVYQZqQddm9YgwSeOXDhwbYihwbvBYZmgBKuI_iM7I1lERIK3Ug0HSAczLQn9VcAD664_CwiAh8cqLNxqQ2qQaohSVa_YNr2oZtFns/s1600/IMG_9257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIe4JnaV16ofu7AptyKvEk8TaIMjCHX55GcVtdGoYVYQZqQddm9YgwSeOXDhwbYihwbvBYZmgBKuI_iM7I1lERIK3Ug0HSAczLQn9VcAD664_CwiAh8cqLNxqQ2qQaohSVa_YNr2oZtFns/s400/IMG_9257.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Penata is hoisted up to the roof by a rope. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Some Palm Sunday parades took up the whole of one side of the Panamerican highway. Cars queued for miles. No one seems to mind waiting.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6_z72X2R2Rmw0sbd9cWYfQs24ESPwQ5_U9k44aFEO1u0pd20DLh7crkJhkBTBjas6soe1lO8AsPeCrvfxcQjoNpNhXJeuPmRnuKuiuVXojILdOiq_z830qGCkS6FRPh0psaS8dLWeZUF/s1600/IMG_9204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6_z72X2R2Rmw0sbd9cWYfQs24ESPwQ5_U9k44aFEO1u0pd20DLh7crkJhkBTBjas6soe1lO8AsPeCrvfxcQjoNpNhXJeuPmRnuKuiuVXojILdOiq_z830qGCkS6FRPh0psaS8dLWeZUF/s400/IMG_9204.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reeds carried over the shoulder at a Palm Sunday parade.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DTYy8DbjKLEwFJ-OD4PWte0pHxyJUk9hHpHMr8v5d7GqAbcBfiuh-nMwxIw-EhyL1lKCqee3Ibu9BKYWsrTgk2xPT_27yOhrGCuJ6zLHbZLENq8qaFUCy4lYohoTTmthG7BU32s7vyOu/s1600/IMG_9205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DTYy8DbjKLEwFJ-OD4PWte0pHxyJUk9hHpHMr8v5d7GqAbcBfiuh-nMwxIw-EhyL1lKCqee3Ibu9BKYWsrTgk2xPT_27yOhrGCuJ6zLHbZLENq8qaFUCy4lYohoTTmthG7BU32s7vyOu/s400/IMG_9205.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything on the roads came to a standstill on Palm Sunday.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIEaNwGEfkCqKd939RQekrAPTpnboXnxIJZBN-KDarDRawTxc7qrvT2xkeGGMOJU3JAgwYy6I8cZhLPjqrlvRImn5djRqGkdz4XvtWAVeiD8n9KhVa_yj6Q2nMM3Yv6MlGvPeH0vmnG1n/s1600/IMG_9249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIEaNwGEfkCqKd939RQekrAPTpnboXnxIJZBN-KDarDRawTxc7qrvT2xkeGGMOJU3JAgwYy6I8cZhLPjqrlvRImn5djRqGkdz4XvtWAVeiD8n9KhVa_yj6Q2nMM3Yv6MlGvPeH0vmnG1n/s400/IMG_9249.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A horse back rider passes some kids playing on hay bales while taking his<br />
cows to be milked.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtyA9YZDDL8LN2ex6PVffETAwnCTYHHc5fWTBxFAi7ZTMMnxszLReP5RO9LJBY61yXQAPG8Q_XKWPtKQbvuGmTSIl2ACtlztBLUHIBZk8airnFmforuSlbggCt1Cx2u-caDrvhZB43xi5/s1600/IMG_9244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtyA9YZDDL8LN2ex6PVffETAwnCTYHHc5fWTBxFAi7ZTMMnxszLReP5RO9LJBY61yXQAPG8Q_XKWPtKQbvuGmTSIl2ACtlztBLUHIBZk8airnFmforuSlbggCt1Cx2u-caDrvhZB43xi5/s400/IMG_9244.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As in so many developing countries everything is donated by somebody.<br />
This bridge was donated by the People of Japan.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfxY5aciGjIdZwA5H8NP7XrxHwOjG-sCfcq3ri_0MUiy6lvvP9FJb_uR4CpkLBt7bYF081LRXXdoBvVyo7uCofMnSQD6SBR7Ql4dPAIc5vRBBT730TjkmnDeIpj6bpoBt7u_4b1VVkFUy/s1600/IMG_9046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfxY5aciGjIdZwA5H8NP7XrxHwOjG-sCfcq3ri_0MUiy6lvvP9FJb_uR4CpkLBt7bYF081LRXXdoBvVyo7uCofMnSQD6SBR7Ql4dPAIc5vRBBT730TjkmnDeIpj6bpoBt7u_4b1VVkFUy/s400/IMG_9046.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And everywhere fires burn along the roadside.<br />
Maybe the remnants of sugar cane plants. I'm not sure.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5B9a6Vvmo-u3Hvg37RvU5qf86BpSH27xb0hbB-HbT9HiDA02tl22XTJWwufVJudYQsvQBj8yNxExpVHvBK6vXyWMTGFucp-o-9LX-Qj7z6SbHm4hwtWNRFTlplky0EQhf2X76UVUHb4w/s1600/IMG_9035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5B9a6Vvmo-u3Hvg37RvU5qf86BpSH27xb0hbB-HbT9HiDA02tl22XTJWwufVJudYQsvQBj8yNxExpVHvBK6vXyWMTGFucp-o-9LX-Qj7z6SbHm4hwtWNRFTlplky0EQhf2X76UVUHb4w/s400/IMG_9035.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And just like home, the cherry blossoms were out in full bloom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39x_kPV104XyMBSTksMlGHuF-RW3jaWIrooyGa7l0QMP57SVV2MpoylHNpGrFLnyJxbvS0bcJHGoWjKhPpc32pYri-p4sa6KOO9AWTUsPl2fmmRZyzgE40OQeRdQF_wcYu3BqUky9ZB6U/s1600/IMG_9083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39x_kPV104XyMBSTksMlGHuF-RW3jaWIrooyGa7l0QMP57SVV2MpoylHNpGrFLnyJxbvS0bcJHGoWjKhPpc32pYri-p4sa6KOO9AWTUsPl2fmmRZyzgE40OQeRdQF_wcYu3BqUky9ZB6U/s400/IMG_9083.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the hard shoulder a man on a horse trotting along. The man is chatting<br />
on his mobile phone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjftG55Mp8gfXOOVeqmA4ZISz8mttE6wnOFWWf5C0rUrrL2fvRxEz_Ctm2oK8k839aD4rFDQBH6_f_b-WiQkNbJZ_gQoTsFAwqqVcQs1heXs73WPX1KlJ4L62aOW45xUAPHm68xUbk74G4L/s1600/IMG_9230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjftG55Mp8gfXOOVeqmA4ZISz8mttE6wnOFWWf5C0rUrrL2fvRxEz_Ctm2oK8k839aD4rFDQBH6_f_b-WiQkNbJZ_gQoTsFAwqqVcQs1heXs73WPX1KlJ4L62aOW45xUAPHm68xUbk74G4L/s400/IMG_9230.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even though I feel like I have known the name Daniel Ortega since my<br />
childhood he has only been the president of Nicaragua for 7 years.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSWTKjstGG8LZR2q6t0fC2STNuUV7JXHxB7SlESBwuX8y3ehXidfJ9-Wxj6EPcte_bvuQGMOqiv6xFvz7Igd3fzosbgAoNVVNLeEKVMZyWdW48UP0F0rw34d0aB-98Nlz5ZF8pvpXjIgt/s1600/IMG_9092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSWTKjstGG8LZR2q6t0fC2STNuUV7JXHxB7SlESBwuX8y3ehXidfJ9-Wxj6EPcte_bvuQGMOqiv6xFvz7Igd3fzosbgAoNVVNLeEKVMZyWdW48UP0F0rw34d0aB-98Nlz5ZF8pvpXjIgt/s400/IMG_9092.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some colourful handmade chair hammocks selling at a roadside stand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi7tJghowJBTaSTpUi5Cvy2F_wcFOfFz6ZsCIiPC0jeYlO7U4mnOXrjKjL8J8rkcczhVRnyiXCc5svG3MSuX_lwcGMU459YWIIVdNbfdt999rVbEY2D8wOTmRMQ0JUnVp7AxffMdoVICm/s1600/IMG_9215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi7tJghowJBTaSTpUi5Cvy2F_wcFOfFz6ZsCIiPC0jeYlO7U4mnOXrjKjL8J8rkcczhVRnyiXCc5svG3MSuX_lwcGMU459YWIIVdNbfdt999rVbEY2D8wOTmRMQ0JUnVp7AxffMdoVICm/s400/IMG_9215.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always very cool when a cycling club catches up and cycles along with you.<br />
These guys were cycling from Managua to Granada. Only 40kms. And they had ALL the gear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Bomberos have no funding in Nicaragua</b></div>
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Looking up Nicaragua on the Human Development Index (HDI) I see that it sits at 124 in world development rankings. This means that both Honduras and Guatemala, both of which I have cycled through, are poorer than Nicaragua. How come than that Nicaragua is by far the cheapest of all the Central American countries? I don't know.</div>
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By looking at the facilities of the Nicaraguan fire stations I can safely say that they are beyond doubt the shabbiest in all of Central America. The following 3 pictures are from one particularly poor station. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_K8kvo96C1J0DRxvqOm4NAioVYW5oeVdDIZdDVCYq1ss2vJNYVwN6dI8OCNy5hdb7V7-4b0w6AEUWXr66jk9HB86OL6ZQed9l7_smLGHalFZJvFJecgg5xomRoc84uTIA8LYFLsEgWMI/s1600/IMG_9110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_K8kvo96C1J0DRxvqOm4NAioVYW5oeVdDIZdDVCYq1ss2vJNYVwN6dI8OCNy5hdb7V7-4b0w6AEUWXr66jk9HB86OL6ZQed9l7_smLGHalFZJvFJecgg5xomRoc84uTIA8LYFLsEgWMI/s400/IMG_9110.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saskia sits in a plastic chair on the dirt floor of a tin shack<br />
fire station in Nicaragua.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-iA9vlkMxIUHKO_sGjLhCCCq4nS-xrhrOcY-meNgme5fcceR2CF5TNqcpB2GoJ_RltGhGhuTDlnKWSMw3iSa3yMpiG_3tD8miBjvU2FaZyYxuaElU34K1WOu_4aFIDzLGold_LUH2dUd/s1600/IMG_9107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-iA9vlkMxIUHKO_sGjLhCCCq4nS-xrhrOcY-meNgme5fcceR2CF5TNqcpB2GoJ_RltGhGhuTDlnKWSMw3iSa3yMpiG_3tD8miBjvU2FaZyYxuaElU34K1WOu_4aFIDzLGold_LUH2dUd/s400/IMG_9107.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The poor fire fighters who sleep here mustn't sleep too well.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQd1ChRhGS8DndLPfsBLbuHXnGElwOVCpVAAgYF7zYad9Sc1sWyUdQL6PioryYcEs3BlRdtwGi1FgduS4O_Q_tBdJUvD1F5Fbyg44yY2OwoyvYPVjq1lX45Cb_31F0xCXnhKEnopmTnDv/s1600/IMG_9111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQd1ChRhGS8DndLPfsBLbuHXnGElwOVCpVAAgYF7zYad9Sc1sWyUdQL6PioryYcEs3BlRdtwGi1FgduS4O_Q_tBdJUvD1F5Fbyg44yY2OwoyvYPVjq1lX45Cb_31F0xCXnhKEnopmTnDv/s400/IMG_9111.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Saskia had to clean out the rubbish<br />
from this fire station shower before we used it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And yet in the same shabby tin shack of a station, within minutes of arriving one of that lads had popped out to the local street stall and brought us back a treat. A ball of popcorn glued together with sugar cane honey. Is that called molases? First bite was tasty, after that it was just a bit tooooo sweet.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPswPBoFYTHO5n-wLwEgDbLm45TikMZfmLhGvItunSpa3Zeh-mMdV5KMZGxIdciBmY_a5HIE6v7dSq9_sJsiZCvetIjGB-46o4A-ngFbvYaxvPpyeovrx54cXljefvT4zMZfFblWB_Ydg/s1600/IMG_9117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPswPBoFYTHO5n-wLwEgDbLm45TikMZfmLhGvItunSpa3Zeh-mMdV5KMZGxIdciBmY_a5HIE6v7dSq9_sJsiZCvetIjGB-46o4A-ngFbvYaxvPpyeovrx54cXljefvT4zMZfFblWB_Ydg/s400/IMG_9117.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big ball of popcorn and sugar cane honey.</td></tr>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Ometepe island<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">My final destination in Nicaragua was the island of Ometepe. The island has 2 big volcanos. Perhaps an 8 hour hike said some of the backpackers on my boat. They were all excited about getting up in the middle of the night to start the long hike. I was looking forward to some quiet relaxed off-the-saddle time. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkvKzhLLsxCCGKgme-cSvoBjQ5eG9UkIOkWntI01Npt9Hkh_Ru2nTWkRns5Y9c97r0-yqYB75uBXewhBmv4CjsjkX0h-M8mJ5tfkJNzGl6eN8TjDihIfZdpZB3zY1Kl3hlj3sSkMXx4v2/s1600/IMG_9280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkvKzhLLsxCCGKgme-cSvoBjQ5eG9UkIOkWntI01Npt9Hkh_Ru2nTWkRns5Y9c97r0-yqYB75uBXewhBmv4CjsjkX0h-M8mJ5tfkJNzGl6eN8TjDihIfZdpZB3zY1Kl3hlj3sSkMXx4v2/s400/IMG_9280.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting with backpackers on the boat on the way to the volcano island <br />
of Ometepe. I cycled 120kms that day trying to make the boat. Phew. Made it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ2yZrB4oWOOeJ-ohp4zKLzILXuCcAlTW4Zrojrbj0Gi7LiIq-AuyDwfRYlie1Nb0SKjf0F5tMx0kFHvYnZqR0ei3sgEDRuw79owPpOXg8DHH7wFg_x8dNRGVnPoembS5LHVHHFVCtQrF/s1600/IMG_9297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ2yZrB4oWOOeJ-ohp4zKLzILXuCcAlTW4Zrojrbj0Gi7LiIq-AuyDwfRYlie1Nb0SKjf0F5tMx0kFHvYnZqR0ei3sgEDRuw79owPpOXg8DHH7wFg_x8dNRGVnPoembS5LHVHHFVCtQrF/s400/IMG_9297.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After 6 months of chasing each other I finally met up with Herbie (from Galway)<br />
and Laura (from the UK) on Ometepe island. I had previously met them in a campsite in California, USA.<br />
They invited me to cycle with them for a day or 2.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-8615935208501715522017-04-19T21:34:00.000-07:002017-04-20T12:14:57.160-07:00Honduras<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Um-Dptik_hXzb8sBEMZGc3pA_DYmuLj-8RMG9dFiud-O6MmA-4YvL6z7BeCBuIKswrygBFudMpJ3jegEh1T5snB-sa7ATAgdyZNBTkdPyqMiBvb1NRay6LAi4oL2Bogku8vrwqEjg_Z/s1600/DSC01015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Um-Dptik_hXzb8sBEMZGc3pA_DYmuLj-8RMG9dFiud-O6MmA-4YvL6z7BeCBuIKswrygBFudMpJ3jegEh1T5snB-sa7ATAgdyZNBTkdPyqMiBvb1NRay6LAi4oL2Bogku8vrwqEjg_Z/s400/DSC01015.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture appeared in the Irish Times. Taken by Jordi with his camera at road level.<br />
'Tis hot. 'Tis very hot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Meeting Jordi (Catalunya) and Alexandra (France)</b><br />
I bumped into Jordi and Alexandra on my last day in El Salvador at a Warm Showers house. I hadn't met any cyclists for ages so was delighted with the company. They were good fun. I spoke Spanish to Jordi, Jordi spoke Catalan to Alexandra, Alex spoke English to me. We had all 3 languages on the go at all times. I taught them about the Bomberos. They taught me about an App made in Girona called Wikiloc. It was so nice for my ears to hear Spanish spoken with a Catalan accent. It took me back to living in Barcelona in 1993.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_kjZZPvbeWBGV_FA0uJr97udhUwvLaHWlPpym21Od0lzCzon78MkhquXWzJixPrRcxqKcf55URwiTIKQXgK9YeHss4Tss8swVGJeGi3gbdwq1lRnDGVxvgu6fEElM2bJpuAnfQsHbO40/s1600/IMG_8698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_kjZZPvbeWBGV_FA0uJr97udhUwvLaHWlPpym21Od0lzCzon78MkhquXWzJixPrRcxqKcf55URwiTIKQXgK9YeHss4Tss8swVGJeGi3gbdwq1lRnDGVxvgu6fEElM2bJpuAnfQsHbO40/s400/IMG_8698.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Crossing into Honduras with Jordi and Alexandra.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpV5upkLVg58LwooPtLpbjNVc3ZT6qU3T8JWqok8EaGECdnYfiEPYivl-hu7BFFLuY8eyicMHQBhhG9NuZftL8UBQo25Hrs6wWSNEeE-30Qp_ml8wp9HupYrd94Yko8cggcBdmxA_LXUuJ/s1600/IMG_8688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpV5upkLVg58LwooPtLpbjNVc3ZT6qU3T8JWqok8EaGECdnYfiEPYivl-hu7BFFLuY8eyicMHQBhhG9NuZftL8UBQo25Hrs6wWSNEeE-30Qp_ml8wp9HupYrd94Yko8cggcBdmxA_LXUuJ/s400/IMG_8688.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Jordi is a voluntary Bombero himself at home. And he's a bit of a chatter box.<br />
As a native Spanish speaker you can imagine how much fun he had when we stayed with the Bomberos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwgyZu0foardxMSdZlGXeY7-AKmGtJhnU7fbHPS-pRCZk75KFx_dueendLsy2HA2xNvGyoizgs6ChiP651fwyFWxXYB8bG1nZd-a-K90zOxelbh8I71U_67ZRe8emMeyI4EyvyVYZEciz/s1600/IMG_8709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwgyZu0foardxMSdZlGXeY7-AKmGtJhnU7fbHPS-pRCZk75KFx_dueendLsy2HA2xNvGyoizgs6ChiP651fwyFWxXYB8bG1nZd-a-K90zOxelbh8I71U_67ZRe8emMeyI4EyvyVYZEciz/s400/IMG_8709.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This was one truck. One truck with 2 huge trailers. Designed for carrying sugar cane.<br />
It was turning from the main road down a tiny dirt track. Unbelievable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6d6whJm06CKMyfwqpJjNcq448CoIVTzrEj_y4llyo8GZ0HJXhP0FobdsJqYHQ71EMZcfZ9zxc5iVg-ZBiEypbclnwVLSkwLEZ_rB2etLbsTiA9MxG2UpaxbjGJoTGI4O2N1gz0Lp_mc7/s400/IMG_8706.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Myself and Alexandra eating a plate of whatever the street stall was selling.<br />
3L of orange drink was gobbled in about 10 minutes. Temp about 38 degrees C!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br />The capital of Honduras, Tegucigalpa</b><br />
Jordi and Alexandra were heading quickly through Honduras. Most cyclists do this and cross through in 2 days. I had time and wanted to go exploring. Who knows if I'll ever get to Honduras again.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzv0VSMox8NvICwyYvTmOfhMXfYewHSK_StY1q0s728oqeC82smxQEwxCBYDX3OltMtlg2vwXwUiqlbAhFeDkLFRo-itSezd3WZxR03dNMu5DaPSQlgRMO-nqbj1blj4ARKvJXOxyD_QI/s1600/IMG_8748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzv0VSMox8NvICwyYvTmOfhMXfYewHSK_StY1q0s728oqeC82smxQEwxCBYDX3OltMtlg2vwXwUiqlbAhFeDkLFRo-itSezd3WZxR03dNMu5DaPSQlgRMO-nqbj1blj4ARKvJXOxyD_QI/s400/IMG_8748.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Cathedral on the main square in Tegucigalpa. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtgLVD6A0q-COOawGsTBNXF7Q5ft9l8XKwIVB9VRcU6_1wTwVXipAD-JyTCAc3aUq6hNDTqGegy3M7w2sglrirq_Rs-1m-svAknBH7s5Sybyl88Nz_aVMXLeLe-42HTtsFsxtonRAyWU5/s1600/IMG_8763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtgLVD6A0q-COOawGsTBNXF7Q5ft9l8XKwIVB9VRcU6_1wTwVXipAD-JyTCAc3aUq6hNDTqGegy3M7w2sglrirq_Rs-1m-svAknBH7s5Sybyl88Nz_aVMXLeLe-42HTtsFsxtonRAyWU5/s400/IMG_8763.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Shoe shine men in Tegucigalpa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxpJdZzYJYHQN5U3_gIKe04-gvFbAMdKt19d1TaX8ZQFsin3tdhqA85VYxUIzR4aWYMgagjuSQn0IPr0-AkysDn5zXms7UVNyL090DmI86kZydA2DF6S8VMNioNUycTfe0QGRJCB6v7pT/s1600/IMG_8757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxpJdZzYJYHQN5U3_gIKe04-gvFbAMdKt19d1TaX8ZQFsin3tdhqA85VYxUIzR4aWYMgagjuSQn0IPr0-AkysDn5zXms7UVNyL090DmI86kZydA2DF6S8VMNioNUycTfe0QGRJCB6v7pT/s400/IMG_8757.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">In Honduras oranges are semi peeled at the roadside stalls.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRC1l8KWlBAa6S1ImHRwViFaTuf4I8SJsg3uBA8LD3Z82zM1gdxukrpCOjEJgMViTffoEE02vNUeDdc5i3OuoXgpJ-yzWqp3_BCDAbuIarmg6gt1RPXeoiI79uXi_wVR-yBt0DlL5ygn4/s1600/IMG_8791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRC1l8KWlBAa6S1ImHRwViFaTuf4I8SJsg3uBA8LD3Z82zM1gdxukrpCOjEJgMViTffoEE02vNUeDdc5i3OuoXgpJ-yzWqp3_BCDAbuIarmg6gt1RPXeoiI79uXi_wVR-yBt0DlL5ygn4/s400/IMG_8791.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Downtown Tegucigalpa. It's a little edgy. Bit dirty, bit dreary but kind of nice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYK0eLmqkB7IZzIsUK-0VGQr1rA2oKfdoSpXxO9535ceDfm-ABCaNlvuXnuuxgc8nVTs_RS6De-NA7kIzb1Vm9LPYg4LYkjJ8oeJXL2VJU2Ph1yVr26XS28i_H7Whii15XZfu4utDgecI/s1600/IMG_8790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYK0eLmqkB7IZzIsUK-0VGQr1rA2oKfdoSpXxO9535ceDfm-ABCaNlvuXnuuxgc8nVTs_RS6De-NA7kIzb1Vm9LPYg4LYkjJ8oeJXL2VJU2Ph1yVr26XS28i_H7Whii15XZfu4utDgecI/s400/IMG_8790.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">No tourists seem to wander around Tegucigalpa. They feel it's too dangerous.<br />
But sure 'twas grand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBJnQLFYq8xWXkvjoW0PIhctqhIXQuGxYs71ny_vd0jHXXwBAXWTkkax0F4F_0SIO9NoFgfqa_HIL7kEfyesxwbEaHsjOWQAH8r2Znbb6gVWhqqn9dn8WBBgaalJSf-NSbsouiRi_NCiv/s1600/IMG_8769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBJnQLFYq8xWXkvjoW0PIhctqhIXQuGxYs71ny_vd0jHXXwBAXWTkkax0F4F_0SIO9NoFgfqa_HIL7kEfyesxwbEaHsjOWQAH8r2Znbb6gVWhqqn9dn8WBBgaalJSf-NSbsouiRi_NCiv/s400/IMG_8769.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Tapas in Tegucigalpa included slices of boiled spuds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Hostel in Tegucigalpa - meeting Carlos and the Argentinians</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_NKz7B243lI8GXJ2VWLJIvuTLDhJOnqf6i72krgd-D23347-nzsPgzcR06Zy8DXLCnFuGj3CFZBeA5lAPbn67pouh4AJLeqJcTcLsmXuL6TQxgtkjZrwMDSSBmMc2JFb1FL8YgJfo8Pw/s1600/IMG_8785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_NKz7B243lI8GXJ2VWLJIvuTLDhJOnqf6i72krgd-D23347-nzsPgzcR06Zy8DXLCnFuGj3CFZBeA5lAPbn67pouh4AJLeqJcTcLsmXuL6TQxgtkjZrwMDSSBmMc2JFb1FL8YgJfo8Pw/s400/IMG_8785.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeny Green on the left. My 2 Argentinian neighbours and Carlos in the hammock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now this may look like a very uninteresting scene. It was the terasse of a hostel I stayed at in the Honduran capital Tegucigalpa. 5 usd per night was good value. My tent is on the left. The other 2 tents belong to the Argentinians. Carlos from the US is dozing in the hammock with headphones. I stayed in this hostel for 5 nights and so got to know my neighbours quite well. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Argentinians woke at sunrise and headed off each day to the busiest traffic lights in the capital where they juggled batons while riding a unicycle or played the guitar or a little accordion and sang. They came back to the hostel at about 9am every morning when rush-hour was over and counted up their wads of 1 limpira bills. They made roughly 10 usd per day each. We had breakfast together. Each morning I cooked them porridge (I'm slowly converting the world) and they made me coffee. We talked about travel and my plans and their plans. At 4pm in the afternoon they headed off again for 2-3 hours of the same, coming back when rush hour was over, counting their money, paying for their accommodation for that night. And so they travelled. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Carlos on the other hand was a trader. He set up his various computers and tablets at 9am, bought and sold shares online on the 'penny stock market' I think he called it. Often he was finished by 9.30am having made between 3,000-5,000 usd. And so the world turns. Everyone getting by. The Argentinians making enough to pay for their accommodation and some grub. The American making enough to buy and sell a few houses every year. The Irish cyclist looking on, taking it all in and thinking what an interesting world it is we live in. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOzXGJe8vSa-t-kTtOefvu3VgWlTh_ZbzsbjmG3uF164eyXkGZ5_WXRM6HimzUWM-mNAMsBTC2v48A8qwCg_kM0SelOBqD1PRD1KQJmlTfv-ndAT83oe1C-vucFmnv1_BRMQCRIisKa60/s1600/IMG_8781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOzXGJe8vSa-t-kTtOefvu3VgWlTh_ZbzsbjmG3uF164eyXkGZ5_WXRM6HimzUWM-mNAMsBTC2v48A8qwCg_kM0SelOBqD1PRD1KQJmlTfv-ndAT83oe1C-vucFmnv1_BRMQCRIisKa60/s400/IMG_8781.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going to the theatre with Carlos in Tegucigalpa. He had never been to the theatre. Imagine.<br />
He was also too scared to walk through Tegucigalpa. He only took taxis. So we walked together<br />
to the theatre.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>The mountains of Honduras</b><br />
Based on my friend Julian's advice, I headed into the mountains in Honduras. Cycle tourers can actually cycle through Honduras along the Pacific coast in 2 days. But in order to take the road less travelled I diverted up to the capital and onwards into the mountains. I had time and wanted to explore. It was also 42 degrees the morning I left the bomberos (fire station) in the town of Nacaome on the coast. I needed to go high.<br />
<br />
Tegucigalpa is 70km uphill inland. My rule about hitching lifts is that as long as I'm not travelling directly along my route i.e. north to south, then hitching is an option. Tegucigalpa was north east of where I was which meant I allowed myself to throw Sherpa into the back of a pick-up for the 70km climb.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9ug0ufWp6Zo0lTKEpkV1SErIsja1UHuWoVsjiRxve0u5kEJGJRwnCzwTHBgtHolgapYMQF6FZu53RveM4CAJcvDx9xxN5cLQi9mylIT2XURXWO4N-bQhG0L25A8VexuKQJZXWQDnkhSS/s1600/IMG_8818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9ug0ufWp6Zo0lTKEpkV1SErIsja1UHuWoVsjiRxve0u5kEJGJRwnCzwTHBgtHolgapYMQF6FZu53RveM4CAJcvDx9xxN5cLQi9mylIT2XURXWO4N-bQhG0L25A8VexuKQJZXWQDnkhSS/s400/IMG_8818.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valle de Angeles, Honduras. Beautiful old colonial town where time stands still.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzZkSDaPQFHaUipZ5P5hCavEjngUaT20HFmJ-iYtjRzbquHa8eQ9rDujPbiEctUqYmWutyJEiTvC0JLQkk-I71-Y_xQCeEARd220fU2lK6Dp7bMbthXPjnxa2jc7YGiELBRzaOl-vaTxd/s1600/IMG_8847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzZkSDaPQFHaUipZ5P5hCavEjngUaT20HFmJ-iYtjRzbquHa8eQ9rDujPbiEctUqYmWutyJEiTvC0JLQkk-I71-Y_xQCeEARd220fU2lK6Dp7bMbthXPjnxa2jc7YGiELBRzaOl-vaTxd/s400/IMG_8847.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the street in Valle de Angeles a man peels and then sells his supermarket<br />
trolley full of oranges.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Almost my first WorkAway - at Rauls</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">I had been wanting to try the WorkAway.info website for ages. I have spent years listening to how friends had travelled the world working a few hours each day in return for food and board and now at last I had time to try it out. I also wanted to get away from the heat of the coast so picked a guesthouse in Valle de Angeles in the central Honduran mountains to contact. Below is my very first reply from a WorkAway host.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><i>Hi Michelle, thank you for contacting me!.. there's a workaweyer who signed up with me already for the next three months, so you don't need to do any work, but you're very welcome to come over. I definitely would love to hear your stories... I do have room for you for about 4 or 5 days. You can just come and relax and enjoy your stay in here, I'm just starting this guesthouse project so ideas are very important for me now... I'll be glad to have you in here, you will enjoy the weather and the mountain views. You can make use of my kitchen to prepare your own food... </i></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><i><br /></i></span>
Sure how could I refuse. Off I went to Raul's guesthouse and stayed for a week. In return for food and board I did build him an AirBnB profile. There were high fives around the breakfast table the next morning when we got our first booking.<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbWSTIytRZXiFHz6T-Ys5Po2yagDFWg8CAwqBFXudTfAVcZ92NjWCOiUO9Tm9gAvoNCoCuO_VcTBqgtdZ4SGllEltfjcAvsUc3TncUSYE7Xa-2ZRq23I1lcifACJ4veFLZ3hzOO-x9OG2/s1600/IMG_8916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbWSTIytRZXiFHz6T-Ys5Po2yagDFWg8CAwqBFXudTfAVcZ92NjWCOiUO9Tm9gAvoNCoCuO_VcTBqgtdZ4SGllEltfjcAvsUc3TncUSYE7Xa-2ZRq23I1lcifACJ4veFLZ3hzOO-x9OG2/s400/IMG_8916.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely Raul runs a guesthouse, some log cabins and a dune buggy rental business.<br />
One of his customers gave him a present of this mug while I was there. A mini Raul making dollars.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMeWsqzFykku9nmsOSJApG6RVtM4vM3k2A4NBXkr1og3kO4T-1iwoJ27IVLaNx-IP9hC8ZxqErjy2bfMUPDXWSG3sOP_vNeqL9E1_5JXwScEwCgISFT6RelYS4lYTv_o3ix7X69Ifuvy9/s1600/IMG_8868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMeWsqzFykku9nmsOSJApG6RVtM4vM3k2A4NBXkr1og3kO4T-1iwoJ27IVLaNx-IP9hC8ZxqErjy2bfMUPDXWSG3sOP_vNeqL9E1_5JXwScEwCgISFT6RelYS4lYTv_o3ix7X69Ifuvy9/s400/IMG_8868.JPG" width="367" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raul rented All Terrain Vehicles (ATVs) as a side business. He took me up to some<br />
spectacular viewpoints <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">along the mountain trails.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7XNgMh3XDfitWnF_ZFPJ_Gcqd0ExUHprAx4c7HR9BaSci2ia_KwoFv7V7T6dPLqomW8cxdqNZiSIxK4h3cs0Y2XVcpxNeDO0P1ziYprlSaydAtShqMr5pcY4urZrcXF1hjNo6RRQp7BO/s1600/IMG_8835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7XNgMh3XDfitWnF_ZFPJ_Gcqd0ExUHprAx4c7HR9BaSci2ia_KwoFv7V7T6dPLqomW8cxdqNZiSIxK4h3cs0Y2XVcpxNeDO0P1ziYprlSaydAtShqMr5pcY4urZrcXF1hjNo6RRQp7BO/s400/IMG_8835.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the right is my John Boyne rocking chair. On this chair I read 2 John Boyne books.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTpYesRdfgq4GkurkkBsUu65ZLix8z8zpvXALnxlIupYVocPCwpXzHwZik100tepHMxWf_falZH1bjpxb-86ngfLr8EmiH0VTE2PdZTs_WTvVjAs_VBG68zADBhg1tKiAqUdKsY-D50Wa/s1600/IMG_8858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTpYesRdfgq4GkurkkBsUu65ZLix8z8zpvXALnxlIupYVocPCwpXzHwZik100tepHMxWf_falZH1bjpxb-86ngfLr8EmiH0VTE2PdZTs_WTvVjAs_VBG68zADBhg1tKiAqUdKsY-D50Wa/s400/IMG_8858.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raul was just a gas man. One day we headed into his local village, he produced a pack of cards at a restaurant table<br />
and soon all the street children flocked over to our table for a game. He knew them all by name.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>From Valle de Angeles to Guimaca, Central Honduras.</b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKy1fEvCBrbiYMbkSusPX40YhMAlukLLbr-C0s4Tk-QoQ2bol29DHWYcWpLGms7NBs0XZMja5RAi6G4GWD2qVZ1xiOWbTrLEpgOZ_fgE7LwJKjiY4D0nMIKJE_hWrK6ikiecjXwPmpelA/s1600/IMG_8943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKy1fEvCBrbiYMbkSusPX40YhMAlukLLbr-C0s4Tk-QoQ2bol29DHWYcWpLGms7NBs0XZMja5RAi6G4GWD2qVZ1xiOWbTrLEpgOZ_fgE7LwJKjiY4D0nMIKJE_hWrK6ikiecjXwPmpelA/s400/IMG_8943.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool temperatures, quiet roads, lovely scenery. Perfect cycling conditions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEzHjElcUy4haVQ1Z9a0pBj9kOdOCJ6wL2S3slkQOnrunwEabUYX8lgIID8CnbcjJfNzZBTL0_KCgCyAmwFv5ZlcbiEW3FPacvVkFMV0vO7vfv7JLJeT_PE1ONcUVkoEUF9wpqv4FC_Mo/s1600/IMG_8946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEzHjElcUy4haVQ1Z9a0pBj9kOdOCJ6wL2S3slkQOnrunwEabUYX8lgIID8CnbcjJfNzZBTL0_KCgCyAmwFv5ZlcbiEW3FPacvVkFMV0vO7vfv7JLJeT_PE1ONcUVkoEUF9wpqv4FC_Mo/s400/IMG_8946.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honduran mountains, great on the bike.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgnqiLLzKQk1NhYUv4Z_36nJPBCbVmJG8mkDymdfXQJRKdkP_l3NI4SW4SCcbCYunJ7qORjLcoBhEDrCY8FyWBsa7khn9m448NsfDLm5QUCUZya18-r_1ZykymnvpiZtDBkiebShhPplP/s1600/IMG_8950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgnqiLLzKQk1NhYUv4Z_36nJPBCbVmJG8mkDymdfXQJRKdkP_l3NI4SW4SCcbCYunJ7qORjLcoBhEDrCY8FyWBsa7khn9m448NsfDLm5QUCUZya18-r_1ZykymnvpiZtDBkiebShhPplP/s400/IMG_8950.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road conditions were sometimes a little iffy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Message from a Warm Showers host in Guimaca, Honduras</b><br />
Time off the bike at Raul's guesthouse was so lovely that I thought I'd try a Honduran Warm Showers host to see if I could wing any more time off the bike. I wanted to give you a taste of just how wonderful this community is. Here is a reply from a host in Guimaca. My intro email said something like <i>'Hi, I'm Michelle, from Ireland, I'm nearby and would love a bed or a grassy patch out the back garden, any chance you guys are home'?</i><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>Hi Michelle, You are my first contact from WarmShowers! </i></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You are more than </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">welcome to spend time at my place in Guaimaca. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I was a volunteer in Honduras </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">in 1979 and returned with my wife and daughter in 1996. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We spent 13 years </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">in Guaimaca.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I will make some contacts but if you go to the building, the </span></i><i style="color: #304767; font-family: asap, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">family next door will be able to get you in. Franklin helps me out when I </i><i style="color: #304767; font-family: asap, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">am not there and his mom Glenda will be very helpful.</i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Fatima will have the key to the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">upstairs apartment. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Actually I left a set of keys just outside the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">apartment door. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">As you reach the top of the stairs, look at the wall in </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">front of you, up high you will see a set of keys on a leather </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">string will have the key to the apartment. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Franklin will have the keys to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">get you into the property and the building. I hope you have a great visit!</span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>My number in the States is xxx if you have any questions or I will</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>be watching my e-mails. I am excited to have my first warmshowers visit.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Please feel like our home is </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">your home. Stay as long as you like. </span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #304767; font-family: "asap" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>Eddie</i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpL7WxBbZUgt5uRJyag9umHzGju-Q1yoGHSOrXPpCDCHmjf9ABD723NLUGscv6xF2y5XE4M70WIqzGiyPhVQ1D2ZYySG7LEXwekj1duzaa_iGi5AVzWKx_V7y-xOtTxCIaYPUzBfmY3FG/s1600/IMG_8970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpL7WxBbZUgt5uRJyag9umHzGju-Q1yoGHSOrXPpCDCHmjf9ABD723NLUGscv6xF2y5XE4M70WIqzGiyPhVQ1D2ZYySG7LEXwekj1duzaa_iGi5AVzWKx_V7y-xOtTxCIaYPUzBfmY3FG/s400/IMG_8970.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eddie's humble apartment. It was above a piano school he had set up 13 years ago.<br />
Needless to say I spent that evening tinkling on the keys. I met Fatima and Franklin and Fatima<br />
and just like the email said, they let me in and made me very welcome.</td></tr>
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<b><br />Bingo under the tree</b><br />
I arrived into Nacaome, Honduras on a Sunday evening and bumped into bingo night. People had brought their own plastic chairs. I was immediately invited to join in. A lovely simple community gathering.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young and old took part in the weekly bingo under the tree.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq89zWZ3OMSP4ilK9dkGUTARa9MTzLIloL8kQRazF5QkXw9i4c_g2q2AYHSQk5mPhEfKz-g3D_ZwqhAVI-aTDq6c8e4J5v0z1a0RhwsjAPNEL_fRZqSScKQ3CEEkju7SZCro_tYGDVLN69/s1600/IMG_8714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq89zWZ3OMSP4ilK9dkGUTARa9MTzLIloL8kQRazF5QkXw9i4c_g2q2AYHSQk5mPhEfKz-g3D_ZwqhAVI-aTDq6c8e4J5v0z1a0RhwsjAPNEL_fRZqSScKQ3CEEkju7SZCro_tYGDVLN69/s400/IMG_8714.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These teenagers are using corn/maiz to mark their cards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8c-jqYplL8VeXGRQgwHGZBNBasFzsg7ih1eSQGClbSvY4M7wBJUuHr8o9oHArIUKQzKsvJbJMIi8STeY6YJ5zArTUK9WGLxL-oJWjI390O-NQdVOxLTwYEMv0xK3_4voT7FbYFJq5HjNj/s1600/IMG_8715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8c-jqYplL8VeXGRQgwHGZBNBasFzsg7ih1eSQGClbSvY4M7wBJUuHr8o9oHArIUKQzKsvJbJMIi8STeY6YJ5zArTUK9WGLxL-oJWjI390O-NQdVOxLTwYEMv0xK3_4voT7FbYFJq5HjNj/s400/IMG_8715.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 gorgeous kids at bingo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1u1ldyfD18AwRvVDv3_7FBor7suVn2mbwmYzGZBKmz-PPBu3a2vQ2nOPficUb5wvVmxWJM9ULBzHEyZgth5oncQImUblVGRpzGYhUDc_Mkg1VwN8MEBgJ3bJ0X-_7zHhBE5AXowfhPfBa/s1600/IMG_8721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1u1ldyfD18AwRvVDv3_7FBor7suVn2mbwmYzGZBKmz-PPBu3a2vQ2nOPficUb5wvVmxWJM9ULBzHEyZgth5oncQImUblVGRpzGYhUDc_Mkg1VwN8MEBgJ3bJ0X-_7zHhBE5AXowfhPfBa/s400/IMG_8721.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved this scene. A young lady breastfeeds her baby while playing 2 cards of bingo<br />
using corn/maiz as markers.</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-35681694122785258822017-03-10T20:42:00.001-08:002017-05-30T04:45:14.875-07:00El Salvador<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A big map of El Salvador at the border. Phew.</td></tr>
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<b>A Few Stats</b><br />
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<b>Size:</b> El Salvador is 4 times smaller than Ireland (21,000 <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "tahoma" , sans-serif;">km</span><sup style="color: #000066; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Tahoma, sans-serif;">2</sup> </span>vs 84,000 <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "tahoma" , sans-serif;">km</span><sup style="color: #000066; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Tahoma, sans-serif;">2</sup></span>)</div>
<b>Population: </b>6.3 million (an additional 3 million live in the USA)<br />
<b>Average Temperature on the coast:</b> 32 degrees<br />
<b>Rate of death from kidney disease: </b>4th highest in the world (A random statistic, I'll explain later)<br />
<b>Main export market: </b>USA (50% of what El Salvador exports unsurprisingly goes to the US)<br />
<b>Main exports: </b>Textiles, Coffee, Sugar<br />
<b>Human Development Index Ranking: </b>116 out of 188 countries<br />
<b>Most dangerous country in the world ranking: </b>8<br />
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I fell in love with El Salvador right after riding over the border. I knew nothing at all about the country. I had heard the usual cries of 'It's too dangerous for a solo female cyclist'. But I've heard those cries since arriving into Mexico at the Tijuana border. That was three months ago and since then I've met only lovely people, been offered food and showers and beds in daily random acts of kindness by strangers. So I thought I'd just go for it, cross the border ask for a map and then let the Salvadorians take me through their country. And what a lovely 2 weeks I had.<br />
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My 2 weeks in El Salvador were so special because of 3 people. People from El Salvador are called Salvadorians. So I should say because of 3 Salvadorians, Anna, Julio and Jose.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Salvadorian breakfast. Beans with cream, fried bananas<br />
and of course tortillas.</td></tr>
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<b>Meeting Anna</b><br />
My first night in El Salvador was one of those total gems. I crossed the border in the early afternoon so was only a few kilometres into the country when at 4pm ish I started looking for somewhere to pitch the tent. The main coastal road was busy so I had my eyes peeled for somewhere a few hundred metres back. I noticed that a street stall selling watermelons seemed to have a farm behind it. Bobs-your-uncle I thought. Just to put you in the picture it was over 30 degrees every day. I'm saying this right from the start because it impacts everything. When you get up, how far you ride, what you eat, where you sleep, how you sleep, how much water you need to drink, how often you stop to look for shade, your mood.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeny Green's first night in El Salvador. In a lane behind Anna's house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna has been selling watermelons on the roadside for years. The round pale<br />
watermelons are imported from Guatemala. The long dark green ones are local.<br />
Both are delicious.</td></tr>
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Anna ran a watermelon stand at the side of the road. I asked if I could pitch my tent behind her house and she said no problem, that I would be safe. Within 5 minutes of pitching the tent another neighbour offered me a bed. I said I was fine, but thanks. 5 minutes later another neighbour knocked on my tent asking if I wanted a shower. Of course I said yes to that. </div>
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It was an outdoor shower. The neighbour asked her son to haul me up a big bucket of the coldest water and I relished every drop I poured over my head with an old mayonnaise tub. I pulled the piece of plywood that's lying against the well in the photo below, across as a door. Anna was none too please with me going to the neighbour's house for a shower. Anna said that unlike her neighbour she had a shower INSIDE her house and if I wanted a shower before I left the following morning I should use HER shower. She was very keen to show me her INSIDE house shower. Hilarious.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Anna's neighbour offered me a cold shower (little white walls behind) with water<br />
hauled up from the well by her son. A bucket and a bar of soap. Glorious.</td></tr>
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Anna had sold watermelons for years. But now that her husband was on kidney dialysis and couldn't work she had to be creative so she opened a little restaurant beside her watermelons. She and 3 girls from the village worked from 7am-7pm 7 days per week. It was doing a flying business. I mention the kidney dialysis just because in the 2 weeks I spent in El Salvador I met 3 families who had members on dialysis. I thought that a little strange. At home I have one friend who has had a kidney transplant, I know no one personally who is on dialysis. Locals here said it's due to the pesticides sprayed by aeroplane on the corn and sugar crops. Hence my quest to see where El Salvador lies in the 'rate of kidney disease' world ranking.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna's 4 month old restaurant.</td></tr>
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I ordered grilled shrimp with garlic for dinner. Normally I never buy any food in restaurants but street food from a roadside cafe is fine. I usually ask in advance what the price is as I want to be sure I'm not being ripped off as a gringo (white American tourist), but this time it didn't seem appropriate. I was happy to pay whatever she charged as she was giving me somewhere safe to sleep. As I eat the most delicious plate full of scrummy shrimp, salad and rice I told Anna she belongs in a Michelin star restaurant in London and not a roadside stall in El Salvador. She laughed, we laughed and she told many of her customers who came to her stand for the rest of the night what I had said. </div>
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Anna's husband had had a leg amputated a few years ago because of a traffic accident. Recently he has developed kidney disease and requires dialysis twice per week. It costs 125 usd per 4 hour session. His family and her family take it in turns every week to drive him 2 hours to the hospital. Everyone chips in to pay. She works 7 days a week to pay the medical bills, she hardly sat down for the 24 hours I was there. </div>
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Another lovely moment after dinner was when Chris de Burg's 'Lady in Red' came on the radio. Anna started to sing along not knowing what any of the words meant. I did a little quick simultaneous translation as I sang and again we both laughed. She was a great character, fully of life and energy and get up and go, such a lovely welcome to a new country.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMToNt1K-vLm54KF2YAaspS6w1sorIq1cbgcgGx_ky6EfDEvZMFxnceGUlzyE9bpeQNKQecmWndtJmPLfdDU-WcGdY2kIld7OI2hZ_NdjdS3rZ64r9OWOyYNB-6oFhhJxQPJSLaQuBeY1/s1600/IMG_8272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMToNt1K-vLm54KF2YAaspS6w1sorIq1cbgcgGx_ky6EfDEvZMFxnceGUlzyE9bpeQNKQecmWndtJmPLfdDU-WcGdY2kIld7OI2hZ_NdjdS3rZ64r9OWOyYNB-6oFhhJxQPJSLaQuBeY1/s320/IMG_8272.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna and her husband resting in their hammocks on the roadside.</td></tr>
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<b>Meeting Julio</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5PhCl4vO4ZXFucfAaJqLFOKh7i2nt8ZBu0kPRM9IFW7d55UAHx4MOPgkwy5oPWGzzSFvnKmpX2fPJHx3cTpSnGWldMrnEpwWofoNQNtLGZFF63k87QBWjP8_mg5m4D5T8viQ6jj2GxNd/s1600/IMG_8490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5PhCl4vO4ZXFucfAaJqLFOKh7i2nt8ZBu0kPRM9IFW7d55UAHx4MOPgkwy5oPWGzzSFvnKmpX2fPJHx3cTpSnGWldMrnEpwWofoNQNtLGZFF63k87QBWjP8_mg5m4D5T8viQ6jj2GxNd/s400/IMG_8490.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Julio showing me his Salvadorian flag on his bicycle top.</td></tr>
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Meeting Julio couldn't have been more different. There I was merrily cycling along the road a couple of days later, probably feeling a bit grumpy in the heat and with sweat dripping down my back and into my eyes, when a pick up truck pulled in in front of me. Julio is a member of a cycling club from Santa Tecla. He and his team mates (4 guys in lycra pilled into the back of the pick up with their bikes) were on their way home after a mountain bike race. Julio invited me to join them in a bar a few miles down the road for a beer. And so off I went.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HwzP_g_pkiovxuZbCErEAXTWzVQiCQD9uaElbRVIK-o2Inffb1J7wfhEGe0t-F4slNeVvpdbIP-0EJZUYhX_GVOFKzRa1BSDCtwcsBm9H2sVvzZUFfrMcIQQA9W2dV_QRoFdJvUF1ayP/s1600/IMG_8412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HwzP_g_pkiovxuZbCErEAXTWzVQiCQD9uaElbRVIK-o2Inffb1J7wfhEGe0t-F4slNeVvpdbIP-0EJZUYhX_GVOFKzRa1BSDCtwcsBm9H2sVvzZUFfrMcIQQA9W2dV_QRoFdJvUF1ayP/s400/IMG_8412.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family dog King thought that me doing yoga on my pink mat was a game.</td></tr>
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Julio and his wife kindly invited me to stay with them in San Salvador, El Salvador's capital. It wasn't on my route but sure I wasn't in any hurry so thought I'd take them up on the offer. I would climb from sea level to about 1200m. So I knew it would be cooler. Sapo, one of the team members was a bike mechanic and offered to service and clean my bike for me. And they all invited me out on their weekly Thursday night city bike ride with their club, CTU.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDt-UemMgXBT2c3d3EYpmeDmR_2EGYTJ9UNOhOBhnV9kvWK_fcVkLpstPC2TyLxSte8L1q7Wd1rZt3TR_QAJabvvqA2uEpHDK0lDLqwh0MiY30UvbMwsZBGe03nUH1n3plKaAnwPwWFln/s1600/IMG_8428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDt-UemMgXBT2c3d3EYpmeDmR_2EGYTJ9UNOhOBhnV9kvWK_fcVkLpstPC2TyLxSte8L1q7Wd1rZt3TR_QAJabvvqA2uEpHDK0lDLqwh0MiY30UvbMwsZBGe03nUH1n3plKaAnwPwWFln/s400/IMG_8428.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sapo is a kind and gentle soul. He spent 4 hours working on my bike.<br />
He changed all my cables, gave me some new bearings (I'm not quite sure where).<br />
It shone when I picked it up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7m-FMHZx3hORI0C-LC7eKjVW-fUXch6O7xKDkGVK3hU7azjHrFxcPWTL2HcafLuPdsnVrfWL3MG0IGZajkSzMr8N5fGB7oIEXR78mjd3BcaquWsiOJj1rl7G0uPZYemV8x0JxouVmsPfW/s1600/me+talking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7m-FMHZx3hORI0C-LC7eKjVW-fUXch6O7xKDkGVK3hU7azjHrFxcPWTL2HcafLuPdsnVrfWL3MG0IGZajkSzMr8N5fGB7oIEXR78mjd3BcaquWsiOJj1rl7G0uPZYemV8x0JxouVmsPfW/s400/me+talking.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me giving a short presentation about my trip to the mountain bikers before<br />
the night ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTP9sFz5oTIwGUb01O9OizFo2jt3xUM81qlYT3XZgeoHGvBRgrmmSmKh23EzPUobT77LtoSJplrVt1hlDoTmxYOe_th0c_bTNCOL2YMW7zdTzJrY5D0xsfRLb2PziwVZCA8FDItKh54bS_/s1600/2+heads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTP9sFz5oTIwGUb01O9OizFo2jt3xUM81qlYT3XZgeoHGvBRgrmmSmKh23EzPUobT77LtoSJplrVt1hlDoTmxYOe_th0c_bTNCOL2YMW7zdTzJrY5D0xsfRLb2PziwVZCA8FDItKh54bS_/s400/2+heads.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The CTU Thursday night city bike ride. About 80 people showed up. El Salvador del Mundo <br />
is the national monument equivalent to our Spire I guess, but much more loved.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RR5iFKv0fhIXgIzpKqy7yno8YGY5c_wpZm86hfMPi6xxCGJ30d-I-u1fHrkdmWM1SjJgHrem0BIvzT-KoZ54w_BwIMk7Xw3URfcONM4lwS1v0i_P7qo0h-KIB2yD_GEWlalEsdFXy2HA/s1600/night+ride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RR5iFKv0fhIXgIzpKqy7yno8YGY5c_wpZm86hfMPi6xxCGJ30d-I-u1fHrkdmWM1SjJgHrem0BIvzT-KoZ54w_BwIMk7Xw3URfcONM4lwS1v0i_P7qo0h-KIB2yD_GEWlalEsdFXy2HA/s400/night+ride.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling around San Salvador on a Thursday evening as you do. That's me in the middle.</td></tr>
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Along with the Thursday night bike ride, the comfy bed, ESPN3 to watch Ireland beat France, the 3 yummy meals per day cooked by Blanca the lovely maid and the day trip to see the local volcanos; Julio's invite also extended to taking part in my first ever mountain bike ride that Sunday morning. To avoid the heat Salvadorians get up at crazy o'clock in the morning so at 5am I was up and dressed and heading for the hills. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6yVoi_kjoyqRt_XC5356YIYVInFEP4Fs-PRTPy4uz-jiEZFbMGaim-Fr10IEpF8uHnHd3Vg3KISd1kD4vyRkm6LX22-3YY4BwcU9e4rcCe14X7N3BcMzt3Gh4wxCJZN0ePNI5dtDiREG/s1600/IMG_8512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6yVoi_kjoyqRt_XC5356YIYVInFEP4Fs-PRTPy4uz-jiEZFbMGaim-Fr10IEpF8uHnHd3Vg3KISd1kD4vyRkm6LX22-3YY4BwcU9e4rcCe14X7N3BcMzt3Gh4wxCJZN0ePNI5dtDiREG/s400/IMG_8512.JPG" width="352" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to set off for my first mountain bike ride with CTU, Santa<br />
Tecla bike club.</td></tr>
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Julio's wife Maria Eugenia a keen mountain biker, stayed with me towards the back of the pack for the whole ride as I was a bit nervous on the stoney sandy mountain dirt roads. Sapo (the bike mechanic) had arranged for me to have a mountain bike from his shop. He also presented me with my first ever cycling jersey with pockets at the back and a flag of El Salvador on the sleeve. It was the first time really that I had ridden a bike with knobbly 2 inch tyres. I couldn't believe how un-slippy it was on the dirt. And although I had to work really hard and was pretty knackered at the end. I quite enjoyed my new adventure. You can whizz so fast on a light bike with no luggage!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUzgKfGBAZtrJ3F4aLaGGL_awcGowo4II09tItHnu_Hl0tkuv7uFuTZNUXCbhA0PwE-2qCLsYWA-sLtnTUR7g80uJhyUE2itAJ_xovUBS9Px_1s53re2CRSCMnyiNUMQgLMAENaevHYsE/s1600/bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUzgKfGBAZtrJ3F4aLaGGL_awcGowo4II09tItHnu_Hl0tkuv7uFuTZNUXCbhA0PwE-2qCLsYWA-sLtnTUR7g80uJhyUE2itAJ_xovUBS9Px_1s53re2CRSCMnyiNUMQgLMAENaevHYsE/s400/bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me riding over a bridge over a river. It's about 7am and<br />
I'm somewhere in the middle of the Salvadorian mountains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37dbbuxMnv8IX5JuT78OlbxC232AO_3hlgpooEX354pyZQjyQ5mY2IF1ES5UHfEPh6yXdbU4SAHmnPitN89QhcwtMPRAV8Dc_bCBOo5p_u-SXykCnsk0xStAXvcWNx25GWHr9QziJQW7p/s1600/me+and+ME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37dbbuxMnv8IX5JuT78OlbxC232AO_3hlgpooEX354pyZQjyQ5mY2IF1ES5UHfEPh6yXdbU4SAHmnPitN89QhcwtMPRAV8Dc_bCBOo5p_u-SXykCnsk0xStAXvcWNx25GWHr9QziJQW7p/s400/me+and+ME.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Julio's wife, Maria Eugenia enjoying the dirt road.</td></tr>
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<b>Meeting Jose</b></div>
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Jose is almost the one and only Warm Showers host in El Salvador so everyone ends up staying with him whether they are traveling south to Nicaragua or north to Guatemala. So it's just as well he owns the largest house in the whole of the country. It may be a construction site but it fitted his whole extended family plus 5 hungry dirty cyclists just fine.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVlYqVoetgJgOZqqxUkOVPqkD4RFIQgmpJ5iLbLX-4YB9pXE7aTmkfdx_0pgXUyu2mdRDcQqNk7YQ48-li5f6nX-_0VLjHK-q5Ej4wyjypKF2bHeZb7A-rxsu1H7dWE8IAW5Fw8j8lzIk/s1600/DSC00982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVlYqVoetgJgOZqqxUkOVPqkD4RFIQgmpJ5iLbLX-4YB9pXE7aTmkfdx_0pgXUyu2mdRDcQqNk7YQ48-li5f6nX-_0VLjHK-q5Ej4wyjypKF2bHeZb7A-rxsu1H7dWE8IAW5Fw8j8lzIk/s400/DSC00982.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I came for 1 night and stayed for 3.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7JaXVfvmj-vH6k8fSdCVWidxiF138Z35d1LIwmL61AgaIMOlELyvuCYG5QY1jezfFTuOzA5tEoqVCTQfkQPjPdPuLiI6GD5mujTYqIJac6n8cqvhxItmj8aTg6VYnnz4N98I3eZzFmED/s1600/IMG_8662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7JaXVfvmj-vH6k8fSdCVWidxiF138Z35d1LIwmL61AgaIMOlELyvuCYG5QY1jezfFTuOzA5tEoqVCTQfkQPjPdPuLiI6GD5mujTYqIJac6n8cqvhxItmj8aTg6VYnnz4N98I3eZzFmED/s400/IMG_8662.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then we were 5 cyclists. </td></tr>
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The morning after I arrived, Jose asked if I wanted to join him on a shopping trip to San Miguel. Jose had lived in Montreal, Canada for 20 years working as a cleaner. But he always wanted to come home. So here he is, married to Marie with 2 young children and the owner of 2 shops. He lives like a king, by local standards. </div>
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Every 2nd day he drives his truck into San Miguel, the 2nd largest city in El Salvador and goes shopping. I'm googling 'weather San Miguel El Savador' as I type just to put this shopping trip in context and today it's a balmy 37 degrees at 13.00. We must have gone to at least 50 different shops, each one because it sold cheaper toothpaste or flip flops, washing detergent or talcum powder than its neighbour.</div>
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His two shops are located in very rural areas so stock a little bit of absolutely everything. We left home at 6am and 14 hours later returned having delivered a tuck load of 'stuff' to his 2 shops, we arrived home exhausted. I hadn't worked so hard in a long time. </div>
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I also have to confess that I only managed about 3 shops at a time before having to duck into the air conditioned Pollo Campestre (the local equivalent of McDonalds). It was just so so hot. Julio would leave me there for about 20 minutes and then collect me again, to continue shopping. We bought beans, potatoes, tomatoes, vegetable oil, toilet paper, washing detergent, oh and some sombreros. At home the likes of Julio would just head to Musgraves and load up a few trolleys. Not in El Salvador.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghb3YTaJpWq_upYYH5ktraFw_O32_R2p1MzG1RTkrBoDZf4OQy77QLIoZromC3NF45wcHsVTv4a9WX-TMLwPXN6lw1Z_kDbjkdffydPoKHRtLLC2JAoccyT2YpILicT8mNWw6JxMPN6qSw/s1600/IMG_8654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghb3YTaJpWq_upYYH5ktraFw_O32_R2p1MzG1RTkrBoDZf4OQy77QLIoZromC3NF45wcHsVTv4a9WX-TMLwPXN6lw1Z_kDbjkdffydPoKHRtLLC2JAoccyT2YpILicT8mNWw6JxMPN6qSw/s400/IMG_8654.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jose examines the spuds. He buys 2 * 50kgs bags.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zVoWrrjWD3Rn4yuQ2XcLZXTeC2tpFjzz0TGPiszl1mJrF_Y5fQaQzjmHiGduY2PBmfIDY5L7XuuldKh8jTYomExVVS2s7JtcIVEXFoncC6jNtJGCtNFmKwFCAoQKeWjNBHlexQKxe9pK/s1600/IMG_8647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zVoWrrjWD3Rn4yuQ2XcLZXTeC2tpFjzz0TGPiszl1mJrF_Y5fQaQzjmHiGduY2PBmfIDY5L7XuuldKh8jTYomExVVS2s7JtcIVEXFoncC6jNtJGCtNFmKwFCAoQKeWjNBHlexQKxe9pK/s400/IMG_8647.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We buy 2 crates of tomatoes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCLA1DYazDlgYNr0U-pBRgFk0tTz_snqD3j1UXDE5jFGeasMNz_1kcl81pkJy81xrjepc_DsTV9IzWZcdSiS7yWnp0zWFksHOFL4e-Wnd8sA3UbRW8Bo2oCNTB2UycTJTV0mL5xYcucD9/s1600/IMG_8651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCLA1DYazDlgYNr0U-pBRgFk0tTz_snqD3j1UXDE5jFGeasMNz_1kcl81pkJy81xrjepc_DsTV9IzWZcdSiS7yWnp0zWFksHOFL4e-Wnd8sA3UbRW8Bo2oCNTB2UycTJTV0mL5xYcucD9/s400/IMG_8651.JPG" width="355" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jose hires a man with a van for 1 usd, to carry all the veg back to our parked truck.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Some delights along the road in El Salvador</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawnafujKEHT1MAX_9M71gzI3LDPwUtIbJqlHT129_fLgnlxi3ktfTj1fu4XkKgKBu3rjm3k95Ub-i4Bd-T3C0jVnxShYgPGgUrWd2TpHMPpmj0YpROr4Go4EACrp_EUzz-8HJOjt73SfL/s1600/IMG_8555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawnafujKEHT1MAX_9M71gzI3LDPwUtIbJqlHT129_fLgnlxi3ktfTj1fu4XkKgKBu3rjm3k95Ub-i4Bd-T3C0jVnxShYgPGgUrWd2TpHMPpmj0YpROr4Go4EACrp_EUzz-8HJOjt73SfL/s400/IMG_8555.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lady sells glasses of coke and fanta from a big bottle. Way cheaper than buying a can.</td></tr>
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<b></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpBF0hM3qTaKPJ4PXsE7JrUyhXEstzfKPaXYIRX0Cq9X-BLlGBbC8Xz3Zl2wR5oErtPglKqrl_-XFCzoSzA9NsMqRfNEameEjkUYQ0kIvR0D-QGwXQwFgsbQJP3FpYyIdSKjEunVtH242-/s1600/IMG_8597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpBF0hM3qTaKPJ4PXsE7JrUyhXEstzfKPaXYIRX0Cq9X-BLlGBbC8Xz3Zl2wR5oErtPglKqrl_-XFCzoSzA9NsMqRfNEameEjkUYQ0kIvR0D-QGwXQwFgsbQJP3FpYyIdSKjEunVtH242-/s400/IMG_8597.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little girl sells green birds. 15 usd each.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4N_2yWeaooA5gBx-1_ldAziDCDqXYSj_RnCXgDxc5mWfj2sTpWKOR1-IKMLACRtWRJWzIg08UHcJd62Bm5l8C7F23qkkD-O96EhA8TMJx9knRCusK5mxk3lMW8zftz2xn_nmPL1L_KKO/s1600/IMG_8625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4N_2yWeaooA5gBx-1_ldAziDCDqXYSj_RnCXgDxc5mWfj2sTpWKOR1-IKMLACRtWRJWzIg08UHcJd62Bm5l8C7F23qkkD-O96EhA8TMJx9knRCusK5mxk3lMW8zftz2xn_nmPL1L_KKO/s400/IMG_8625.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grilled tamales are delicious and super cheap.<br />
Potato and corn inside a banana leaf.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRpX9FZXpshvLrdBF7qmDqv4h7eKwVGP_urLDYYl9fPx-a8EciPD6I7sDmXn66YLIBLKS3UTRM_vQ1v2CWm0bM37q-udcRgjRmn3QUpSwhfrpq5kXc-hV7lo98Y8lPNRyUJea83s6sGzt/s1600/IMG_8544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRpX9FZXpshvLrdBF7qmDqv4h7eKwVGP_urLDYYl9fPx-a8EciPD6I7sDmXn66YLIBLKS3UTRM_vQ1v2CWm0bM37q-udcRgjRmn3QUpSwhfrpq5kXc-hV7lo98Y8lPNRyUJea83s6sGzt/s400/IMG_8544.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this clever use of pallets. Note the round pale watermelons are from<br />
Guatemala, those long green stripy ones are local.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkWTR-J747PfgYVzpa3NZSv68EAaOhNsJsao-pWtRk5MD_XVI5oE5tg_dPChKJ98UKJRIBTJ3b4KJrZqr3mtXDF4n4dT4ya82LNMSntZgsVs0NMkuJnvHUY31rEh-vHn4SqV4af9zFZws/s1600/IMG_8537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkWTR-J747PfgYVzpa3NZSv68EAaOhNsJsao-pWtRk5MD_XVI5oE5tg_dPChKJ98UKJRIBTJ3b4KJrZqr3mtXDF4n4dT4ya82LNMSntZgsVs0NMkuJnvHUY31rEh-vHn4SqV4af9zFZws/s400/IMG_8537.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lovely lady takes a coconut out of the ice box at her roadside stall.<br />
I drink the water and then she chops up the flesh inside for me too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZ-ffHFCmr1aAhDt70LF9Vg4l36uCmZjHHYgQfRbBhiPg60w6pKdDJKtMaAauaJ_nebhuK4FF9JZP_svUCjZ52I8ptMpJ14uTrz0G23l1UIYS_1BPYzygp9ZWay1Bl2V8rk1irHeO0ZO_/s1600/IMG_8538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZ-ffHFCmr1aAhDt70LF9Vg4l36uCmZjHHYgQfRbBhiPg60w6pKdDJKtMaAauaJ_nebhuK4FF9JZP_svUCjZ52I8ptMpJ14uTrz0G23l1UIYS_1BPYzygp9ZWay1Bl2V8rk1irHeO0ZO_/s400/IMG_8538.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denis O'Brien flying the Irish flag all over Central America. This is honey.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Cycling between petrol stations from one fire station to the next</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
El Salvador is so hot that you really have to laugh at the situation most of the time. I greet every single person by saying 'que calor'. No one else seems to even notice. On the days I didn't stay with Anna, Julio or Jose I found myself cycling between petrol stations and staying at the multiple fire stations I found on my route. Whether the petrol stations were 2kms or 20kms apart it didn't matter. I was so hot and sweaty and sticky and dirty and going crazy with the heat that I left my bike outside and dashed in to the air con. I bought whatever was the cheapest drink in the shop and sat, often for a couple of hours, reading. Luckily every shop in El Salvador has armed security at the door. Very for looking after my bike.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyT_3dqJbzs_x30fV2a-zGP4-7dTauIRgmektOpTCohmdheDA3NAF6C4lXHVaemh_kYrz2bkd9SZMsEg5SaNXzsnKN8Twv-C1ey_FT8BqWSW1kuUGwfd9wDPCG0p4lMySRGP-o50Go1i6G/s1600/IMG_8590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyT_3dqJbzs_x30fV2a-zGP4-7dTauIRgmektOpTCohmdheDA3NAF6C4lXHVaemh_kYrz2bkd9SZMsEg5SaNXzsnKN8Twv-C1ey_FT8BqWSW1kuUGwfd9wDPCG0p4lMySRGP-o50Go1i6G/s400/IMG_8590.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading John Boyne in the air conditioned petrol stations.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlvO9JGoh5hPl1-gIJ6vfYoi6o7qw56bTmskDIjIaidnojJo2U1NGzCXlr6m3vDbIhhaQKAF2QDQs3zJlu6LUaikgI_O8W7MZ9u7oxvOFyLuOrAdYFbQcjEG4O7RIiVziRhYPg-2MQUAK/s1600/IMG_8282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlvO9JGoh5hPl1-gIJ6vfYoi6o7qw56bTmskDIjIaidnojJo2U1NGzCXlr6m3vDbIhhaQKAF2QDQs3zJlu6LUaikgI_O8W7MZ9u7oxvOFyLuOrAdYFbQcjEG4O7RIiVziRhYPg-2MQUAK/s400/IMG_8282.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While reading I would stick my water bottles in the fridge.<br />
Otherwise you'd be drinking hot water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_JFpXL6QTeUtHtTQG61-jVvVZxLphB73-2mDFSYHEF32dUr4NCOvclBtsHVHOApVf2MTJg2kOy17cXfNhjrsAPMMQPxPpI9JMXvvBet4r3vVIT2L8Aah-x0vXZgn2_GAdlboOU1KpAPX/s1600/IMG_8552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_JFpXL6QTeUtHtTQG61-jVvVZxLphB73-2mDFSYHEF32dUr4NCOvclBtsHVHOApVf2MTJg2kOy17cXfNhjrsAPMMQPxPpI9JMXvvBet4r3vVIT2L8Aah-x0vXZgn2_GAdlboOU1KpAPX/s400/IMG_8552.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bomberos at Zacalucateca</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdQNMJ9-jfq5zY91wfibG9WkRD75Tz1riWjHd1o7C_XwMO1RR7N4MHhuW6y_jwX8BnP2iD8Z37MPLeyN4-8L7jd2tI0l18NHPckMWwUmavFAhTzHt5D0YT6ECvqzAHVkzTKtJofqn8N_w/s1600/IMG_8581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdQNMJ9-jfq5zY91wfibG9WkRD75Tz1riWjHd1o7C_XwMO1RR7N4MHhuW6y_jwX8BnP2iD8Z37MPLeyN4-8L7jd2tI0l18NHPckMWwUmavFAhTzHt5D0YT6ECvqzAHVkzTKtJofqn8N_w/s400/IMG_8581.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast was included in this 5 star hotel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0KSPVO_9BwrDrsfD2oPiCydHhdwrtf6-M-5aJzmLYY5GPpnEfcbcFvBwQGRhCGLSwssQ43t0Ck7L6bHGrWJaK9nPprrotm0ifN2-UisWTGDfzD6oLTPR0NY0reckJ6vfX7NdSAsxdy4s/s1600/IMG_8569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0KSPVO_9BwrDrsfD2oPiCydHhdwrtf6-M-5aJzmLYY5GPpnEfcbcFvBwQGRhCGLSwssQ43t0Ck7L6bHGrWJaK9nPprrotm0ifN2-UisWTGDfzD6oLTPR0NY0reckJ6vfX7NdSAsxdy4s/s400/IMG_8569.JPG" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monday evening in Zacalucatecas is inline stake night in the<br />
central plaza. About 50 kids were milling around a course having a blast.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7AdP-UcRbxFKs6TelvSNKT-r8xHZ_9Gpz8keJTKycgl2sjygpC7r0fLXJmx4CPd6zgfXsaY8bvV7Xah8hqTd-ptFi3KGsEVW-D4tOGb2Zxk63Gx-fADrCS4798bi5moAXOGQ6R7hCcg0/s1600/IMG_8588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7AdP-UcRbxFKs6TelvSNKT-r8xHZ_9Gpz8keJTKycgl2sjygpC7r0fLXJmx4CPd6zgfXsaY8bvV7Xah8hqTd-ptFi3KGsEVW-D4tOGb2Zxk63Gx-fADrCS4798bi5moAXOGQ6R7hCcg0/s400/IMG_8588.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Passed the 7,000km mark in El Salvador</td></tr>
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</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-65339678704218140682017-02-26T17:23:00.003-08:002018-01-16T05:22:34.232-08:00Southern Guatemala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CQPnYmjp6e-ycQKZq8zlx0eDAN5RBRCndiqz25E5BdG_9SCWrDFBlRV8NW7E2EisMmSXIMBL10-ATFWptwahEYES4_qX3mdov7F2JK8Zft649hSek0FrAKl6kD7Y3bFKucR7-QClNUAe/s1600/kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CQPnYmjp6e-ycQKZq8zlx0eDAN5RBRCndiqz25E5BdG_9SCWrDFBlRV8NW7E2EisMmSXIMBL10-ATFWptwahEYES4_qX3mdov7F2JK8Zft649hSek0FrAKl6kD7Y3bFKucR7-QClNUAe/s400/kids.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Guatemalan kids in traditional dress. A photo of a photo.</td></tr>
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<b>The Washing Women</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw_7e8yIYN-fY3li0PxKV03tpy0o2Sdm-4-kR4p6KX5Qv4vI1yDWTbqwo_ROkOsSdlWj6UAUGrS0G8nBEIRqAVJVe_qryCrUpod8Yq3tasskZjWZbcGp51BoV095d0esQqsAX3lcyzUAGG/s1600/IMG_8039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw_7e8yIYN-fY3li0PxKV03tpy0o2Sdm-4-kR4p6KX5Qv4vI1yDWTbqwo_ROkOsSdlWj6UAUGrS0G8nBEIRqAVJVe_qryCrUpod8Yq3tasskZjWZbcGp51BoV095d0esQqsAX3lcyzUAGG/s400/IMG_8039.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women gather at the outdoor public washrooms to hand wash clothes on the washboards.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I know it might seem strange to say that one of the highlights of Southern Guatemala was the washing women, but it left such an impression on me that I thought it was a good place to start. Villages we passed each had a central outdoor washing reservoir. Women gathered in the mornings to hand wash huge piles of dirty clothes. We learned later that poor women earn a living by washing clothes of richer families.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfms5Lc-UMvzaf99zyly-RXYG1UtyGxnWd_fXgs_Tm4e9fuyN_k0R6NG0Y36JA73BMt02yH35pXm7kq-cVHIRiXN5-53ctdZP5qry1UqLPjBan2GU21zfkIJzTVpK4D6uea46_1aRO_N-B/s1600/IMG_8029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfms5Lc-UMvzaf99zyly-RXYG1UtyGxnWd_fXgs_Tm4e9fuyN_k0R6NG0Y36JA73BMt02yH35pXm7kq-cVHIRiXN5-53ctdZP5qry1UqLPjBan2GU21zfkIJzTVpK4D6uea46_1aRO_N-B/s400/IMG_8029.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A social gathering every morning.</td></tr>
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Many women had little bundles of babies tied to their backs in blankets. Toddlers were put to sit on empty washboards and given empty packets of washing detergent to play with. As in so many developing countries children sit quietly and amuse themselves with the simplest of toys.<br />
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I suppose the reason why I felt captivated by this simple daily activity (I could have stood and observed for hours) was a combination of things. The camaraderie. The ferocity of the scrubbing. The multi-tasking, breastfeeding babies while chatting while scrubbing. The daily grind. The fact that washing clothes is solely a woman's job in Guatemala.</div>
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Women chatted happily to their neighbours as the scrubbed with brushes. I wanted to ask if each lady had their own washboard which they came back to every day so they could be beside their friends and catch up on the gossip. But of course I couldn't ask. I felt I was intruding a little, so I tried to take a few bad photos standing far enough back that I wasn't seen. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetxX2x-UWaKGIH7MWE6dVjubLyQbFPB0hdGKkhRlztlVgHYIY-a7i6vwJstP1-E6wAffE4bt8RBeWCCMxyHzuTH8UReCa6w1BAHDzJnHvM7bAhYcCnLaObjfFXdFyjnqMziOVWcy_wVNl/s1600/IMG_8009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetxX2x-UWaKGIH7MWE6dVjubLyQbFPB0hdGKkhRlztlVgHYIY-a7i6vwJstP1-E6wAffE4bt8RBeWCCMxyHzuTH8UReCa6w1BAHDzJnHvM7bAhYcCnLaObjfFXdFyjnqMziOVWcy_wVNl/s400/IMG_8009.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hauling bikes onto the back of a truck - no problemo.</td></tr>
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On our last day cycling into Antigua having struggled up two 5km climbs we knew we wouldn't make it Patzun, the next town, by nightfall. It was at the top of a 3rd 5km climb. While Rosalinde was flying up the hills with her 13kg bike and 15kgs of luggage (I made her carry all the food), I was slow as a snail on my 16.5kg bike carrying about 20kgs of luggage.</div>
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There was no other choice but to stick out our thumb and try and hitch a life. Within five milliseconds a knight in shining armour appeared around the corner and within another five milliseconds had two bikes and six pannier bags secured to a tree in the back of his truck. He drove like a maniac up and down some of the steepest gradients I have ever seen in a truck held together by twine it seemed, but we sat up front thrilled to bits.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJlnLHARB3xmF74yw-27kXapBzTGh950C751Tm71xmahlxO01cbhyY_J6IyY9pPAdsjW72GE6GqIusdvbFFil3gBZDD-ecB7ANYohNBGQa99os64iMo5oHZSEUWRR7jFVCfyI5aRdVsyh/s1600/IMG_8011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJlnLHARB3xmF74yw-27kXapBzTGh950C751Tm71xmahlxO01cbhyY_J6IyY9pPAdsjW72GE6GqIusdvbFFil3gBZDD-ecB7ANYohNBGQa99os64iMo5oHZSEUWRR7jFVCfyI5aRdVsyh/s400/IMG_8011.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front right wing mirror is hanging on literally by a thread.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotd9Dfyh5M5Hvog6-2Lx70lct5cXW4AVni9BOThwckKeD7THdz0H2z4h-Rf7eLToeLABahvb2Q6orka4KU4zqq53OSKqR-x0IVBhB9eK6d4rWXOkXkJXd4HreSmhaOgBJgsy7x703WW1V/s1600/IMG_8017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotd9Dfyh5M5Hvog6-2Lx70lct5cXW4AVni9BOThwckKeD7THdz0H2z4h-Rf7eLToeLABahvb2Q6orka4KU4zqq53OSKqR-x0IVBhB9eK6d4rWXOkXkJXd4HreSmhaOgBJgsy7x703WW1V/s400/IMG_8017.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Wonderful Guatemalan night life. We wandered and shared all sorts of<br />
street food from lots of different stalls. </td></tr>
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<b>Antigua</b></div>
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The pair of us arrived into Antigua the night before Rosalinde was due to fly home. We booked ourselves into our one and only hotel room of the trip for a bargained-down rate of 20usd. It was bliss. We wandered through the cobble stoned streets and artisan markets gorging on Antigua's famous sweet breads.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19fZ9YBLU0QDB23BIc9Z7S0xvK3CKoVdebz28-WDKJF_3-wANf7yPtWGNpN1MZYJdHnfprPY5pcFZtnjmyrhNvPBWPcwePYf4hp9xGkAPpWYdXSMTAL7U3eZ1qwIHR5gJt9osx_8Ii9bF/s1600/IMG_8089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19fZ9YBLU0QDB23BIc9Z7S0xvK3CKoVdebz28-WDKJF_3-wANf7yPtWGNpN1MZYJdHnfprPY5pcFZtnjmyrhNvPBWPcwePYf4hp9xGkAPpWYdXSMTAL7U3eZ1qwIHR5gJt9osx_8Ii9bF/s400/IMG_8089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside a chicken bus in Guatemala. Never a dull moment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GZ93kZ28l250EQzExYP_2vs6Ui66dcT4tZIONlpuRWJbMyNGuS3UgClD0BRgw14BnwiXvBCsUqUNyuO666SmWV6fVzdKJP052PtzCfCua1nZ-G25U9EMydTLUyqLxITzWcEy1GRa3NE_/s1600/IMG_8160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GZ93kZ28l250EQzExYP_2vs6Ui66dcT4tZIONlpuRWJbMyNGuS3UgClD0BRgw14BnwiXvBCsUqUNyuO666SmWV6fVzdKJP052PtzCfCua1nZ-G25U9EMydTLUyqLxITzWcEy1GRa3NE_/s400/IMG_8160.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful old ruins all over the city of Antigua.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuLIzdkFfqYlKgeRRBiWw57X25MD5KsIMgmvJjSOB0FSePObJaPEcA4Wws7wMNL4jBrtapRvvlWebs_6FrneVr0HqhOeGSMtBrdD9vUQt3d8gOAyBY4DzLILQxtQdYxqbwSOjgLxzInMN/s1600/IMG_8163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuLIzdkFfqYlKgeRRBiWw57X25MD5KsIMgmvJjSOB0FSePObJaPEcA4Wws7wMNL4jBrtapRvvlWebs_6FrneVr0HqhOeGSMtBrdD9vUQt3d8gOAyBY4DzLILQxtQdYxqbwSOjgLxzInMN/s400/IMG_8163.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Low rise housing and no gaudy street signs. Even McDonalds looks like a classy joint.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6VZ1wwjw9BPBKgfm471Aq4qE42DDpkxCIROH55zSN0MhlzAJd4uJgMk7WQNpIP32DCKXX8yz00Tw8b9SgiyC7e13vWJbKQeEo9KeXJEm4XJO1z8SGAOhEMkIGAtMrZYXafWNNO32njOr/s1600/IMG_8170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6VZ1wwjw9BPBKgfm471Aq4qE42DDpkxCIROH55zSN0MhlzAJd4uJgMk7WQNpIP32DCKXX8yz00Tw8b9SgiyC7e13vWJbKQeEo9KeXJEm4XJO1z8SGAOhEMkIGAtMrZYXafWNNO32njOr/s400/IMG_8170.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three volcanos surround Antigua.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX41J5AbnarCr4IFjiG6SVaqRqZC3al8hwXlp4ShKPhRKCwM6yikcyfMI5qCQLwt_1MZBIHBi-MMhq69OactbV7S4uHOpcrqZNmGOPbw3g2zQaU6RzkzhdCAQbcBL9-kN71gok2263StRT/s1600/IMG_8189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX41J5AbnarCr4IFjiG6SVaqRqZC3al8hwXlp4ShKPhRKCwM6yikcyfMI5qCQLwt_1MZBIHBi-MMhq69OactbV7S4uHOpcrqZNmGOPbw3g2zQaU6RzkzhdCAQbcBL9-kN71gok2263StRT/s400/IMG_8189.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antigua vieja. A suburb.</td></tr>
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<b>Hitting the road again</b><br />
After Rosalinde left I didn't know quite where to turn. Suddenly there I was in southern Guatemala without a plan. Noone else was coming to visit so I didn't have to be anywhere at any time and I must say I felt a little lost. I almost felt that I was too far into the trip to early. But that doesn't make sense either as this trip has neither plan nor schedule. Suddenly this winging it business, mentality made me feel a little unsure of my next step.<br />
<br />
The original plan was to ride from Vancouver to the Panama Canal and then perhaps head back to Europe once the money had run out. That was, of course, unless I came across some irresistible opportunity en route which I just couldn't turn down. But I still had more than 1000 euros in the bank account which I knew would last me 3-4 months with only a few little countries to pedal through. A mere 2000kms left. If I put my head down I knew I could be in Panama in 8 weeks.<br />
<br />
I thought about taking a couple of overnight buses back into the heart of Mexico. I had skipped such a large chunk of the country by flying to Cancun and somehow I just didn't feel finished with Mexico. But getting a bus backwards felt wrong also. Mexico is such a bicycle touring paradise that I also knew I'd be back. Maybe for a Mexico only bike tour. It's such a great country. So diverse, so poor, so interesting, so cheap, so colourful, so full of weird and wonderful festivals and customs, so full of kind happy helpful people wishing you well on your way at every moment. I thought I'd use some mindfulness tools from the Californian Buddhist monastery and just be happy exactly where I was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTI3HQ3YaSCFlg_ITyfMgaPUDxd-1Ym3NVjoPSAGI2TBPhlknaEEI5yZnVyR1-mVcr97Km3rcEmp3t0UOBxLgSJOJVoL0x4DCm-HbwGLe9ZZMvbvsyBoFM7FpaWBr6LBNGqms4wE9vA7LC/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-26+at+18.02.18.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTI3HQ3YaSCFlg_ITyfMgaPUDxd-1Ym3NVjoPSAGI2TBPhlknaEEI5yZnVyR1-mVcr97Km3rcEmp3t0UOBxLgSJOJVoL0x4DCm-HbwGLe9ZZMvbvsyBoFM7FpaWBr6LBNGqms4wE9vA7LC/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-02-26+at+18.02.18.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
After a couple of weeks with this dilemma swishing around in my brain I have actually worked out why I feel so unsettled. Now it may sound weird but actually if you want to ride from Vancouver to Panama you need to first ride down the west coast of the US, N->S, then down the 2000km of Baja California N->S but you then need to ride 3000kms across the Mexican mainland W->E and then kind of NW->SE through Central America. In my head I was just going from N->S on this whole trip but because the world is round it doesn't work like that. On a poster of the world South America sits neatly under Central America which sits neatly under North America. But on a round globe Colombia actually sits under New York. It may sound like total rubbish but actually once I figured this out I felt a little more settled.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Story of a Guatemalan family</b><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCac2rXSWNu3xbi1bgvXACsgFDKIhyphenhyphenmL9yolK4d6Mt2FM9cK5Ge7IAC0VI3vAw19VHiac5MAgZEVKUzCjwbW1oe1UPid6IKXHyIbt4bF1nZmgBOqcM6I103GFtyzJCB0hPcgndO8YCI7Xk/s1600/IMG_8239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCac2rXSWNu3xbi1bgvXACsgFDKIhyphenhyphenmL9yolK4d6Mt2FM9cK5Ge7IAC0VI3vAw19VHiac5MAgZEVKUzCjwbW1oe1UPid6IKXHyIbt4bF1nZmgBOqcM6I103GFtyzJCB0hPcgndO8YCI7Xk/s400/IMG_8239.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The kindest souls, Hilda and Antonio who gave me a bed and air con for a night.</td></tr>
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So I rode S to the Pacific Coast from Antigua, a delightful four hours of downhill. Arriving in the village of Laguna El Comendador at 4.30pm started as any normal evening on the road. I had spotted a church on the banks of the laguna so I headed to the village shop in search of the person who might have the key. Antonio, above, was in charge of the church key but instead of giving me the key he offered me a bed. After a long cold shower a plate containing one entire fried fish was placed in front of me. Antonio had caught it that day in the laguna and Hilda seemed only too delighted to have someone to cook it for.<br />
<br />
After dinner we sat in the living room, watched a Guatemalan soap opera together and chatted. Hilda was the only one to sit on the sofa, I was sitting ON the air conditioner and Antonio was rocking in his hammock in the middle of the living room. It's so lovely to get a window into family life in Guatemala in such a way.<br />
<br />
The couple left this village in the early 80's. They left behind two children aged 7 and 4 with granny. They headed for California in search of work. It was easier to get into the US in those days they said. Antonio is a carpenter and worked in construction, Hilda is a nurse so found it easy to get work. She told me that the hourly wage of 22usd for working in a nursing home was a small fortune. At night she also worked in a doughnut bakery. She told me she makes a mean doughnut.<br />
<br />
I'm sure it's such a typical Guatemalan story. After eight years and recognised as American citizens they came back to collect their two children. Their now three grown up children all live in the US, are married to Guatemalans they met there and have between them 4 children. Hilda and Antonio decided five years ago to move home. They had no medical insurance and couldn't take the risk of getting sick in the US. Their three kids each phone home every day.<br />
<br />
Hilda showed me a huge box that she recently received from one of her kids. Among other things it contained a microwave oven and zip lock bags of various sizes. Hilda sends her kids packages of food and always includes local honey in the package. She can send it in such as way that her kids pay for the freight on receipt of the package. Their kids send home money via Western Union. They are not wealthy but have enough and with 3 bathrooms I'm sure have the nicest house in the village - US style. They are comforted by the fact that if they get sick they can afford to go to the doctor.<br />
<br />
And yet they sit at home most evenings, they don't go to village parties or gatherings in case there are shootings. They live in a house with no glass in the windows but with iron bars. CCTV cameras surround the house which is also supervised by a mean looking pit bull dog. They felt safer in the US but they can afford medical bills here. It sure is a crazy world we live in. Hilda cried as I left the following morning. I think I reminded her of one of her children and she couldn't bare the thought of me cycling alone through Central America. She gave me a little wooden cross and insisted I wear it around my neck at all times. It's meeting and spending time with kind generous people such as Hilda and Antonio that makes touring by bike so special.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArLH-iFqcHoUbjM1zwYQA2CBoXTvNQkGySMKTOeK4F39fZuXUruk4A9Hf0rkEfv7ybsxAG143sQ4iBIUyvvfp315AXdjBtwP_q3VHIKFqTF63EKoUnWLUya_Yyqkgbx62e-1OLq3YRj95/s1600/IMG_8203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArLH-iFqcHoUbjM1zwYQA2CBoXTvNQkGySMKTOeK4F39fZuXUruk4A9Hf0rkEfv7ybsxAG143sQ4iBIUyvvfp315AXdjBtwP_q3VHIKFqTF63EKoUnWLUya_Yyqkgbx62e-1OLq3YRj95/s400/IMG_8203.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherpa getting on a 'lancha' to cross the canal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ_QWZlOqMVw83LC8y_4SKjBbPmzZtGTRTozrRV90kN5hgtvxIsK3EwXt187NO3VQduu9Pvlu2vHcoRgE8QZXMboA_Hv387tWQnzVEHQ3B2SD_E818Q8DlYQAyDZE0MA-yDDUWJJYFjdb/s1600/IMG_8232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ_QWZlOqMVw83LC8y_4SKjBbPmzZtGTRTozrRV90kN5hgtvxIsK3EwXt187NO3VQduu9Pvlu2vHcoRgE8QZXMboA_Hv387tWQnzVEHQ3B2SD_E818Q8DlYQAyDZE0MA-yDDUWJJYFjdb/s400/IMG_8232.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unbelievably the Guatemalan government is encouraging<br />
Guatemalan girls to eat ice cream. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurzpBX3EH7fsGd7zpFzQlufBRROOIoX4UhGrcFv1TPC5RxjE6jUv6mgcwbkMAgh_IksUgrleT5GTuMDBaq2sJYSSkD7jp0r09WQEqKoXfpSkslc96AjPopq216CHe6dRwhswpoY3gJa0G/s1600/IMG_8233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurzpBX3EH7fsGd7zpFzQlufBRROOIoX4UhGrcFv1TPC5RxjE6jUv6mgcwbkMAgh_IksUgrleT5GTuMDBaq2sJYSSkD7jp0r09WQEqKoXfpSkslc96AjPopq216CHe6dRwhswpoY3gJa0G/s400/IMG_8233.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This truck was stranded in the middle of the road.<br />
The day before a branch of a tree had fallen and literally cut it in half.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtwZ-rKfWV0xVCc5IPHYzDpBzXLd7corJ7lza2j-uDSDTFdYixrnmsCRumY5efuLD6uSJF7v96blJ1DDxGr6nfzn9t8f1-M4JuLQ_8PM447TYZTkcGyY3GEiXiemimXgB4thfE08NYRpC/s1600/IMG_8198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtwZ-rKfWV0xVCc5IPHYzDpBzXLd7corJ7lza2j-uDSDTFdYixrnmsCRumY5efuLD6uSJF7v96blJ1DDxGr6nfzn9t8f1-M4JuLQ_8PM447TYZTkcGyY3GEiXiemimXgB4thfE08NYRpC/s400/IMG_8198.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful sunrises along the Guatemalan coastline. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-79168378261444296312017-02-23T10:09:00.003-08:002017-03-09T14:41:13.406-08:00Northern Guatemala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkyHPPe0XSj5i-Oz8mOKVu2hrxL2Xb5Gm2-HrtAzHq_Ml9lcmU-X-pSxXf-cXYas7Li-DMv1I65oGRGOvLXcLd6E7WH_VIPZuXxhAQrrvMEWpps5DgnJmHwFVJH5kxP3TuJ83nLPCpI8e/s1600/IMG_6156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkyHPPe0XSj5i-Oz8mOKVu2hrxL2Xb5Gm2-HrtAzHq_Ml9lcmU-X-pSxXf-cXYas7Li-DMv1I65oGRGOvLXcLd6E7WH_VIPZuXxhAQrrvMEWpps5DgnJmHwFVJH5kxP3TuJ83nLPCpI8e/s400/IMG_6156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosalinde, as usual waiting for me... at the Guatemala/Belize border </td></tr>
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<b>Tikal in the rain</b></div>
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We had heard great things about Tikal. Along with Tulum near Cancun these were probably the only other Mayan ruins we would visit. We set the alarm for the ungodly hour of 5am (I don't do alarms any more) and 30 minutes later were off in the shuttle bus for sunrise at the ruins. We had the place almost completely to ourselves. Not only was it 6am but also it was pouring rain. Go the cyclist's Gortex rain gear I say!! The site was so impressive. We wandered around for six hours but could easily have stayed a couple of days.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cwgbprahtlp_dqtVslCOy88oBhJ-R1-x_l4Uw0xSZ8V3nNUJSEwUmByDiyDlnvAqAp8I3-EnmOAESc3_8x2fwg8x47azyIW0_yGpIEkQ97AY-Ow6P-tX1GjbEnmxChvEFyRgPN_8H30W/s1600/IMG_6167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cwgbprahtlp_dqtVslCOy88oBhJ-R1-x_l4Uw0xSZ8V3nNUJSEwUmByDiyDlnvAqAp8I3-EnmOAESc3_8x2fwg8x47azyIW0_yGpIEkQ97AY-Ow6P-tX1GjbEnmxChvEFyRgPN_8H30W/s400/IMG_6167.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of happy drowned rats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCXddlOjsoF9QMTUeV1K2Gl-JZOVAUi9BNKmTUbYEoaoyRxLobxwHsixmKgsrEhFkfezxEvfoUH8-gIskgLVcva5arkQ_DjBG40fBXtBIxLRgF05w_qhT3qUEzFwxxukt3y6sDTLMcZZ1/s1600/IMG_6169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCXddlOjsoF9QMTUeV1K2Gl-JZOVAUi9BNKmTUbYEoaoyRxLobxwHsixmKgsrEhFkfezxEvfoUH8-gIskgLVcva5arkQ_DjBG40fBXtBIxLRgF05w_qhT3qUEzFwxxukt3y6sDTLMcZZ1/s400/IMG_6169.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These photos don't do it justice but the sight was magnificant.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAzRoNzYh0-6CJipW00N5w9kMFdU_aFONjuLb94K61HAqDhNS39ednJUj7V0W-FvqAkPYkRdA-T6k3SODGXhAEJ2UmIjfpWzqFbPbCjWrWdfacDdI4HQcP8p519Ljl8kF3BIdYEzcGCZi/s1600/IMG_6175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAzRoNzYh0-6CJipW00N5w9kMFdU_aFONjuLb94K61HAqDhNS39ednJUj7V0W-FvqAkPYkRdA-T6k3SODGXhAEJ2UmIjfpWzqFbPbCjWrWdfacDdI4HQcP8p519Ljl8kF3BIdYEzcGCZi/s400/IMG_6175.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Temple 1, the most perfectly intact of all the temples.<br />
Tikal was a town used only by the upper classes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTe9_Whyphenhyphenks75f-w9oPd63NtqHEFcJeTv-6jui7CT_hFNwo3SZOb4Qv_M5XCUMTwmPsZEsE3E5evdLo82yy8HrMeJgoOVljyFka9ANq2vjAn03qvfxikunewsj9cinaskQKFaLXlJ1LQjt7/s1600/IMG_6178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTe9_Whyphenhyphenks75f-w9oPd63NtqHEFcJeTv-6jui7CT_hFNwo3SZOb4Qv_M5XCUMTwmPsZEsE3E5evdLo82yy8HrMeJgoOVljyFka9ANq2vjAn03qvfxikunewsj9cinaskQKFaLXlJ1LQjt7/s400/IMG_6178.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temple 1 and the pair of us.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WKXBecyBYO9OQrBel_z0q78pkKNYeGgiZ3Jfo9Jo-iy8FtvW4E6b1yxfF9TqvztRMgLHFMIIR_-QsOXxN08Eew_4bc_IRh1x6d7FTxLFTNcekvSIqL3MQGp2wNmnZYYFHyoaVBE29BMO/s1600/IMG_6197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WKXBecyBYO9OQrBel_z0q78pkKNYeGgiZ3Jfo9Jo-iy8FtvW4E6b1yxfF9TqvztRMgLHFMIIR_-QsOXxN08Eew_4bc_IRh1x6d7FTxLFTNcekvSIqL3MQGp2wNmnZYYFHyoaVBE29BMO/s400/IMG_6197.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temple 1 from behind and the sun eventually came out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAevh7pJGvOWwOa1lWP-WNw4xFEkXxgOg4rPB-zwfGPNxnPw9lXDtlSHnRSu4y_utnaAPzUVv433fNVzzhwuJ9f7LSR-Twwa8tscX8WOSaVhqryT-5Zrfm-tN1DPBRLI-SmuSSwDv_tLVt/s1600/IMG_6217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAevh7pJGvOWwOa1lWP-WNw4xFEkXxgOg4rPB-zwfGPNxnPw9lXDtlSHnRSu4y_utnaAPzUVv433fNVzzhwuJ9f7LSR-Twwa8tscX8WOSaVhqryT-5Zrfm-tN1DPBRLI-SmuSSwDv_tLVt/s400/IMG_6217.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stayed with this poor but very happy Guatemalan<br />
family the night before going to Tikal. A delight.</td></tr>
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<b>Is Guatemala dangerous?</b><br />
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Rosalinde bought a guidebook in Gatwick airport on her way to Mexico. She picked up the Footprint guide to Yucatan, Belize and Guatemala. Perfect for her holiday. We found it really useful but what was interesting to me was that everywhere we wanted to go came with a warning of how dangerous it was. </div>
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I had travelled completely safely for six months with no guide book. I never read that anywhere was dangerous. Yes, of course I knew at the back of my mind the stories about this area and the narco gangs. The odd time locals would tell me to go a certain route and not another because it was safer but that was about all. In terms of camping, I get out my iOverlander app and see where people have camped before me. According to the guide book everywhere suddenly seemed to come with a rating of how dangerous or not it was for tourists. The daily tabloids would also lead you to believe we were travelling through a war zone. The first six pages every morning are covered with graphic pictures of murders, assassinations and shootings.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0ykKbRvt00QyTEOmY1mLajjQXyoL2oN7W2ahDHfaWlQy6PtoFHFCxkCvEAFTXhL-0Sb7EyWxkVxX_A0lZ3CTVVn05T9yniPcJ9rp3Qmp9ZrGdmOO-aWSgmeeaFScUT6oWWXLpYYE8xKt/s1600/IMG_8032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0ykKbRvt00QyTEOmY1mLajjQXyoL2oN7W2ahDHfaWlQy6PtoFHFCxkCvEAFTXhL-0Sb7EyWxkVxX_A0lZ3CTVVn05T9yniPcJ9rp3Qmp9ZrGdmOO-aWSgmeeaFScUT6oWWXLpYYE8xKt/s400/IMG_8032.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guatemalan newspapers would scare the bejesus out of you.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqgE4XDKfsW3VYd6kKvL1dzDe-bZqzBcSw8JGqlrSSADALOfFOtN9djr6AhwCnbA3t7wzGzrTDKgmmylOzNWvcUbzhVTkk5z4lrk3OWo1vOZn0-CYhrba-09vLfami4cFO0yylFgfxfTS/s1600/IMG_8033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqgE4XDKfsW3VYd6kKvL1dzDe-bZqzBcSw8JGqlrSSADALOfFOtN9djr6AhwCnbA3t7wzGzrTDKgmmylOzNWvcUbzhVTkk5z4lrk3OWo1vOZn0-CYhrba-09vLfami4cFO0yylFgfxfTS/s400/IMG_8033.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scary tabloid daily newspapers.</td></tr>
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<b>Lago Atitlan</b></div>
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A friend of mine Niamh C (as opposed to Niamh Mc) had recommended that we visit the lake of Atitlan. She had travelled in this area before and said it was a highlight. As is often the case we came for a night and stayed for two, swimming in the lake morning and evening and enjoying the beautiful view of the lake surrounded by three volcanos. The gringo trail leads backpackers up the volcanos, camping overnight, but we were satisfied with sitting and reading and relaxing. We met a fabulous retired Australia couple, Ian and Penelope, in our campground in their 4x4 all terrain campervan (below) who fed us slow roast pork and then a few shots of rum before bed. They also let us use their 'stove with a view' to make our porridge the following morning.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWfPh689_7aD6EukVbXHBUzm_Yr7TbGwqhbnJ-R4PrfnDQK96AcXu2m8l4hreoT2B7iybYkYmkzLf9eXcv_IHXOaAhEuvUhxH9kvTZCtAH56lotidTrU66Sf8RdB-f3lOPIwhCzDhGpW2/s1600/all+terain.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWfPh689_7aD6EukVbXHBUzm_Yr7TbGwqhbnJ-R4PrfnDQK96AcXu2m8l4hreoT2B7iybYkYmkzLf9eXcv_IHXOaAhEuvUhxH9kvTZCtAH56lotidTrU66Sf8RdB-f3lOPIwhCzDhGpW2/s400/all+terain.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from travelsintheearwig.wordpress.com</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOq2iN52grod26iBy8vXbqGKmL9XCQVj3zsdTnJnuFYWqzR53o_krDKteYn6aAQJFvVmhvQHLDlFgrO5FQeatKlIO8Bdw9b7pDiynHaAyEUY-QgASFV0s-B4PYK-ieORbizDaNb2rdBmWe/s1600/IMG_7975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOq2iN52grod26iBy8vXbqGKmL9XCQVj3zsdTnJnuFYWqzR53o_krDKteYn6aAQJFvVmhvQHLDlFgrO5FQeatKlIO8Bdw9b7pDiynHaAyEUY-QgASFV0s-B4PYK-ieORbizDaNb2rdBmWe/s400/IMG_7975.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Cooking breakfast on a Ian and Pen's stove. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirV-2MgqWZOETJwJXfTZ4plvD33yAL81PzBCTPcPuwaZ3YRuewud5IIIT8B8Twpje3vXdARs_CLoEp8sIsOf4_gKmo9-cnnDJ3SY5EsyRqidqiUn8nC7gDDLryxRjSFh6ymDB5KoH8xNt/s400/IMG_7930.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sunset on the lake. Fishermen busy preparing nets and boats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWryFgfOIA2m6_9Wt6KPLnm2sR9390YTuVYXRo7dTBEJzS5xoTT3ygfKQ54K8TtPr5nWakfccXLf2p8_sAddeHZrd-NE7u_yJi19ompwJhDldoADxGo-TLIg9DkKQ-8UfFbBsU8k5WAgAc/s1600/IMG_7928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWryFgfOIA2m6_9Wt6KPLnm2sR9390YTuVYXRo7dTBEJzS5xoTT3ygfKQ54K8TtPr5nWakfccXLf2p8_sAddeHZrd-NE7u_yJi19ompwJhDldoADxGo-TLIg9DkKQ-8UfFbBsU8k5WAgAc/s400/IMG_7928.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sunset on Panajachel, Lago Atitilan.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sFT01GuhH-EHwm7-oLU56pypJT2mgI65QD_E0CsAMsCDZQwb5g5P26TlKETB8ohIFP7UEvx9muiZgGHyVf0ZMJ3MHbiSuRf08oeHvn0Ifs2zTXoa4cCDjNOx3Eg9456k0xWZ309Y5xGr/s1600/IMG_7949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sFT01GuhH-EHwm7-oLU56pypJT2mgI65QD_E0CsAMsCDZQwb5g5P26TlKETB8ohIFP7UEvx9muiZgGHyVf0ZMJ3MHbiSuRf08oeHvn0Ifs2zTXoa4cCDjNOx3Eg9456k0xWZ309Y5xGr/s400/IMG_7949.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sunrise on the lake. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMiD9wfufLq7oIN4h9mUs47jvJaPK4kSVI8-58imInRyvNN2Gkuw7nV8jEVQZZ0RCN8lvMUQTLpJyzJfAxtvNDvlIupA1B61KbiFViFqCcTGs61-YmjSuGOyK3fk70GTNmF5k07EKxC3P/s1600/IMG_7910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMiD9wfufLq7oIN4h9mUs47jvJaPK4kSVI8-58imInRyvNN2Gkuw7nV8jEVQZZ0RCN8lvMUQTLpJyzJfAxtvNDvlIupA1B61KbiFViFqCcTGs61-YmjSuGOyK3fk70GTNmF5k07EKxC3P/s400/IMG_7910.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Locals busy mending the pier.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwivGJkXmoKJM-GpkDdavq4xUS1v_Vt9sJ73ykjYg-qx-hW_uCL9VB-VT7R-bHpdlLtMnmbzQIxIbdVAbUQUim7d8T53ZC54zjbM9OcbnOJzhBylH2pfLmkKZqCQifJ4kI3avO7CiddvPq/s1600/IMG_7889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwivGJkXmoKJM-GpkDdavq4xUS1v_Vt9sJ73ykjYg-qx-hW_uCL9VB-VT7R-bHpdlLtMnmbzQIxIbdVAbUQUim7d8T53ZC54zjbM9OcbnOJzhBylH2pfLmkKZqCQifJ4kI3avO7CiddvPq/s400/IMG_7889.JPG" width="385" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A local lady dressed in traditional clothes at her shop by the lake.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjS1fnhwRphjcVcGAFMjmyBmpJI1n0VyP6_m7QQlddZpDG0TWVOosH64yVOCHOsDEQEaOVChG1WZW9AEsGgxFsDCJg9deEBfKXKyXNUXbO3lH8aZF-D92mVHcFnZlyUe6UAcbNPkdrEYiw/s1600/IMG_7998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjS1fnhwRphjcVcGAFMjmyBmpJI1n0VyP6_m7QQlddZpDG0TWVOosH64yVOCHOsDEQEaOVChG1WZW9AEsGgxFsDCJg9deEBfKXKyXNUXbO3lH8aZF-D92mVHcFnZlyUe6UAcbNPkdrEYiw/s400/IMG_7998.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Beautiful views on the ride out of Pana. 3x5km climbs to leave the lago.</td></tr>
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<b>Maya Pedal</b></div>
Rosalinde had bought her bike for the trip for 150 euros on DoneDeal.ie before traveling to Cancun. The airline fees were turning out to be so outrageous that she decided to buy a bike for the trip and then leave it in Guatemala. She found a great little project called <a href="http://www.mayapedal.org/" target="_blank">Maya Pedal </a>based just outside Guatemala City which remake bikes into Bicimaquinas (bike machines) and sells them to local rural communities for a very low price.<br />
<br />
Dinner with the founders Mario and Valerie and a night sleeping at the workshop was one of the highlights of Guatemala. If there is anyone reading this has some engineering/bike fixing /general DIY skills and fancies learning some Spanish, they could do worse than volunteering here for a few weeks. Over 4000 volunteers have been hosted over their 20 years of operations. And no, you don't need to pay to volunteer at Maya Pedal. Phew!<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-IELBOdU_BinDEnuTGf9xlpPQZzWsQv55slZI0ti1HbPuabiqqBmuLSQCvqM-RiQ2jMTcsk2E-Ne5Sb-qo4WfE_3zotuRJKEHrRHYyOt3gS1ewUxkfjAHJIy4MUed8Ve-YXJxGkNzDW9/s1600/IMG_8078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-IELBOdU_BinDEnuTGf9xlpPQZzWsQv55slZI0ti1HbPuabiqqBmuLSQCvqM-RiQ2jMTcsk2E-Ne5Sb-qo4WfE_3zotuRJKEHrRHYyOt3gS1ewUxkfjAHJIy4MUed8Ve-YXJxGkNzDW9/s400/IMG_8078.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Valerie, Rosalinde and Mario standing in front of a<br />
mural of Guatemala at Maya Pedal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibioVrdSqcnSwsPTMznfuY7MUUSG2urYC5_9RFDg0w3O1Og8kPn_wTyARX7cKrDB7TezWnPf0CQ3XTNFE_feMCkzTHjR5SMq2rWA-RX8JGcKzoKpKupQfV2MsDjtiLmkzPaee5R2I8Hypg/s1600/IMG_8070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibioVrdSqcnSwsPTMznfuY7MUUSG2urYC5_9RFDg0w3O1Og8kPn_wTyARX7cKrDB7TezWnPf0CQ3XTNFE_feMCkzTHjR5SMq2rWA-RX8JGcKzoKpKupQfV2MsDjtiLmkzPaee5R2I8Hypg/s400/IMG_8070.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This bicimaquina powers a blender to make aloe vera shampoo<br />
and of course smoothies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBMxOGM64ra3t91n80ehUv3NavFmiNDw6giH-hwyht9F7UM60MLgAf8ltSaC_VoMAIe-aocskRESypgY_35TAj4eJiUijK-yIGKPIZy5AYstd4es1JrvKCfpbCDVBRyDEqHOuCARFH6gF/s1600/IMG_8071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBMxOGM64ra3t91n80ehUv3NavFmiNDw6giH-hwyht9F7UM60MLgAf8ltSaC_VoMAIe-aocskRESypgY_35TAj4eJiUijK-yIGKPIZy5AYstd4es1JrvKCfpbCDVBRyDEqHOuCARFH6gF/s400/IMG_8071.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This one crushes corn husks so that they biodegrade quicker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsvoCy6LPc2DJ-nqCfVRPgzOgKj2VvVtgc7MpZO8WQ6OXiYGFozx9qYUGKHpyJhpwJG8Tb9ygQrEWfXFwBy5vCcre4_Sed553Ztkqag1Jid0ClH7GziJ7FMqAeCw8ZJk6222NpTokQKAd/s1600/IMG_8072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsvoCy6LPc2DJ-nqCfVRPgzOgKj2VvVtgc7MpZO8WQ6OXiYGFozx9qYUGKHpyJhpwJG8Tb9ygQrEWfXFwBy5vCcre4_Sed553Ztkqag1Jid0ClH7GziJ7FMqAeCw8ZJk6222NpTokQKAd/s400/IMG_8072.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This one powers a turning plate for making pottery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUjj6q-jiIQ-xHrR5CuM8vEQfFBGyRR4DG3Y0lM7orRoTl50Q3Po4weaZ6kRGM0O5yZh0JaPyXZeMAgAAobN5-RpBE-q6EdB2GZrls-T9EMi_9px3ZdXi2JvbQgTGcaMxZhyphenhyphennhwgc0G7n/s1600/IMG_8073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUjj6q-jiIQ-xHrR5CuM8vEQfFBGyRR4DG3Y0lM7orRoTl50Q3Po4weaZ6kRGM0O5yZh0JaPyXZeMAgAAobN5-RpBE-q6EdB2GZrls-T9EMi_9px3ZdXi2JvbQgTGcaMxZhyphenhyphennhwgc0G7n/s400/IMG_8073.JPG" width="340" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This one turns corn into meal for chickens.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuOaOlSWv-MYa3cS3S2Kc-edUIMhd5Nw8_ePYiqrVgg9UO4sFwNGc3Y20qQOBzkHNfdE8IsMqn4ijta-g21Apart8zp-TwE71MWQujMeBEe4daE0sJi2icj4Pe1ZFMuVOiOBIAmTiowVK/s1600/IMG_8074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuOaOlSWv-MYa3cS3S2Kc-edUIMhd5Nw8_ePYiqrVgg9UO4sFwNGc3Y20qQOBzkHNfdE8IsMqn4ijta-g21Apart8zp-TwE71MWQujMeBEe4daE0sJi2icj4Pe1ZFMuVOiOBIAmTiowVK/s400/IMG_8074.JPG" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This one peels macadamia nuts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Traffic</b><br />
<div>
Since Rosalinde was flying out of Guatemala City and we wanted to catch a few highlights not reachable by bike, we decided to take an eight hour overnight bus from northern Guatemala to the capital Guatemala City. There are three classes of bus. We went for 2nd class and kind of regretted it a little. But actually the road was so bad even if we had paid a 1st class price we don't think we could have avoided the bumpty-bump-bump-bump... all night long.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jViYoiZClw1NsPN4UgWqW5u_6tVGbAE5_uyxbrYpszAYtlyNPwhWw46RIDgEtNgmXy9j1gvaBQHBjIQt3Ui7olbLFIXxXMyHJJPzS9twsGmPeQDhKKqOHVaqWNMN3YUV9fnTooTAFYI8/s1600/IMG_6249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jViYoiZClw1NsPN4UgWqW5u_6tVGbAE5_uyxbrYpszAYtlyNPwhWw46RIDgEtNgmXy9j1gvaBQHBjIQt3Ui7olbLFIXxXMyHJJPzS9twsGmPeQDhKKqOHVaqWNMN3YUV9fnTooTAFYI8/s400/IMG_6249.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guatemala City traffic is so crazy that we are stuck in traffic<br />
entering from the north at 5.05am.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We arrived into Guatemala City at 5.05am and by 6am we were on a chicken bus (that's what everyone calls them here) with the two bikes strapped to the top for a three hour ride to Lago Atitlan. As opposed to the bumpty-bump bus ride, Rosalinde described this one as like being on a roller coaster. Guatemala buses are all old American school buses - you know the big long yellow ones you see in the movies - which are sold to Guatemala bus companies. Once they arrive in Guatemala the tail end, a couple of metres, is cut off and the engine is moved from underneath to the front. They are made shorter so that they are able to turn the corners on the narrow Guatemalan streets. Bars are also added to the tops of the seats inside, as during the roller coaster rides, a result of lunatic drivers and desperate roads, you have to hold onto something!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGujqy3Y_VivH1JPqmCpLfyVX7peuDpRVApfEAJbBqjJABqEZSddleAg4Msi2rALYad3guaEgMNUa68kDQDzFP_sJIxrGKQKZG0WKeWp1Dd6Fq2xMkrYNwfonttrb9lWf74LjNgr2dedtU/s1600/IMG_7818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGujqy3Y_VivH1JPqmCpLfyVX7peuDpRVApfEAJbBqjJABqEZSddleAg4Msi2rALYad3guaEgMNUa68kDQDzFP_sJIxrGKQKZG0WKeWp1Dd6Fq2xMkrYNwfonttrb9lWf74LjNgr2dedtU/s400/IMG_7818.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catching a chicken bus at 6am in Guatemala City.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRmP3x9H59kyWQfXKKCODA8VGalaOBrE0tY9OTP0eOBGHj7CYXYfEFNE-ojMrmGlBL1Wpm8q8hFRO8Y7vf-FASwEY6H6qm92QUw2wqKRzitP_ckyUPHWdE8AfOZKKr_O7SKdGqxpAJGUC/s1600/IMG_5985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRmP3x9H59kyWQfXKKCODA8VGalaOBrE0tY9OTP0eOBGHj7CYXYfEFNE-ojMrmGlBL1Wpm8q8hFRO8Y7vf-FASwEY6H6qm92QUw2wqKRzitP_ckyUPHWdE8AfOZKKr_O7SKdGqxpAJGUC/s400/IMG_5985.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shell's heaven, 3 varieties of mango. 3 for 1USD. Bargain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-14731487156375486862017-02-21T14:12:00.000-08:002017-03-10T17:19:31.398-08:00Belize (or Bell-ee-say as it's called locally)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbnWtLzg-CuIjGhAv6XAn_Xmh2VgD_GiZWrMe8_BPCbItJlH7yselBZxagN9e3755PO-JJ1kp09nmQb95CXTGCej8BK4jVSAZD05jitfNSuWxyMg-vwiru86GnsxO1Br1BwYF6HPlJIOc/s1600/colorful-cayecaulker-belize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbnWtLzg-CuIjGhAv6XAn_Xmh2VgD_GiZWrMe8_BPCbItJlH7yselBZxagN9e3755PO-JJ1kp09nmQb95CXTGCej8BK4jVSAZD05jitfNSuWxyMg-vwiru86GnsxO1Br1BwYF6HPlJIOc/s400/colorful-cayecaulker-belize.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caye Caulker - an island we visited off the coast of Belize. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Belize is a strange little country.</b> I knew nothing about it at all except that it's good for diving. I had also heard it's expensive so we planned to pedal through quickly enough. But as usual after a few days you get to grips with a place and then the odd stuff becomes interesting so you want to stay and explore. As it worked out we stayed a week in each of the three countries on Rosalinde's route.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPZZu5qd1Rmf6ubAvVSyYuo7up4vEeUNB0LqVrS1oc6GpnayzrkZtgMgbH-DQjANKg1ROH9pGqUuoFqwsj2h7G2YKqhyiHbaeD-pQPYJwwxE8ibkw7ZkNXCZMeQRiACperJfs9AjGPO-u/s1600/mbelize.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPZZu5qd1Rmf6ubAvVSyYuo7up4vEeUNB0LqVrS1oc6GpnayzrkZtgMgbH-DQjANKg1ROH9pGqUuoFqwsj2h7G2YKqhyiHbaeD-pQPYJwwxE8ibkw7ZkNXCZMeQRiACperJfs9AjGPO-u/s400/mbelize.gif" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just to give you an idea of the geography.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I say strange because in the middle of all this Spanish speaking hispanic culture here is a little English speaking bubble. Well that's what it says on the tin. If we actually sat down to chat to someone we couldn't actually have a conversation in English. Belize used to be called British Honduras until 1974 and the queen appears on their currency and well some English words pop into each sentence. But it feels more like a Caribbean island than a part of the land mass of Central America. The people are much darker than in neighbouring countries. There is a Jamaican twinge to their accents and they flick between Spanish, English and Belize Kriol. You also hear the sound of steel drums coming from houses/bars. And there is also a distinct Indian influence. Go figure.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa1r2ACldlsAJ-rQTa7MYwQkqN1VxgsdOnHwbvjnj3up6WlFA8KykPv0IJiobU1ZfNwbduF-A1IkaPEnLS2qVuLNzG6FS3aZN-eWkvQwUnVkKNpeggXwPpAtFPiP8btAF2-zOh3lsTACr/s1600/IMG_6118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa1r2ACldlsAJ-rQTa7MYwQkqN1VxgsdOnHwbvjnj3up6WlFA8KykPv0IJiobU1ZfNwbduF-A1IkaPEnLS2qVuLNzG6FS3aZN-eWkvQwUnVkKNpeggXwPpAtFPiP8btAF2-zOh3lsTACr/s400/IMG_6118.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the signage is suddenly in English.</td></tr>
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Belize has a population of about 300,000. So the same as Iceland as we learned recently during the Euros. It is about 300kms long and 100kms wide. So not dissimilar to Ireland really. It ranks 101 on the Human Development Index a full 30 places behind Mexico. So it's considerably poorer but considerably more expensive. There is a designated gringo trail which I hadn't come across before on my bike trip trip. But the whole country seems to be used by backpackers and other tourists as a springboard to get to the islands. We caught a boat from Belize City, a total no go area according to all the guidebooks, to one of the Cayes (pronounced Keys). There are 450 Cayes in total. The one we picked was the backpacking mecca of Caye Caulker which in 2016 was devastated by Hurricane Earl. Everywhere we looked there was construction underway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp1LxiPjkgP8nd_0ftg3gCzRzBTSjN-DvGwHwIC715XjZBakrikBGoamDav164ealOT9NegYMWjeuW8ziq8q_LRzL_hs8mqf4fyFGW7lsgGrRUFqyWM-kwqY8-QniPtltsPxRYYet80rX/s1600/caye+caulker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp1LxiPjkgP8nd_0ftg3gCzRzBTSjN-DvGwHwIC715XjZBakrikBGoamDav164ealOT9NegYMWjeuW8ziq8q_LRzL_hs8mqf4fyFGW7lsgGrRUFqyWM-kwqY8-QniPtltsPxRYYet80rX/s400/caye+caulker.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caye Caulker. Backpacker heaven. White sand and turquoise water.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3ids46HwbwlrAIb3NL7BKIMvpOPFMjjD31xEDqBv9x1lsLJ3qNRHNZ4zvI947lw1v0CsZ-wLFiipoDcZF_lr8SkH-vzh1qIc0awTt__Qbwte4ZCXf8tnhyphenhyphenYotLVjvZJguBie0BALxBBW/s1600/IMG_6072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3ids46HwbwlrAIb3NL7BKIMvpOPFMjjD31xEDqBv9x1lsLJ3qNRHNZ4zvI947lw1v0CsZ-wLFiipoDcZF_lr8SkH-vzh1qIc0awTt__Qbwte4ZCXf8tnhyphenhyphenYotLVjvZJguBie0BALxBBW/s400/IMG_6072.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping in someone's garden in Caye Caulker. They only<br />
vaguely quiet spot on the party island.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcjjcjQw40VWrDNOjhgQQQ6G2z3RHdRCXfRNUK0yRkRUFt4VVMvkOGO2MU-kT5FcuoZN_SBzW4_3atR8w8hq-2VHI3NNtLFFKHoDq_HPZ_YzMkEtUJiGpbwX0I5UvTFP8UlrT7Zk1PORV/s1600/IMG_7792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcjjcjQw40VWrDNOjhgQQQ6G2z3RHdRCXfRNUK0yRkRUFt4VVMvkOGO2MU-kT5FcuoZN_SBzW4_3atR8w8hq-2VHI3NNtLFFKHoDq_HPZ_YzMkEtUJiGpbwX0I5UvTFP8UlrT7Zk1PORV/s400/IMG_7792.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful views from our campsite. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHW9OYuHHbPHu58zVZOykEtyc-yCwpxjs3bH_nmYi1JtIbgsIpAtvuMdAVGvgf7Xy-LSxpIaK7sELEtFIew6m7raBjzKo8numcjAh8xD7BZF84VCg3xSy9FGTtJVdEWFbBIumLaKTIQZ6T/s1600/IMG_7789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHW9OYuHHbPHu58zVZOykEtyc-yCwpxjs3bH_nmYi1JtIbgsIpAtvuMdAVGvgf7Xy-LSxpIaK7sELEtFIew6m7raBjzKo8numcjAh8xD7BZF84VCg3xSy9FGTtJVdEWFbBIumLaKTIQZ6T/s400/IMG_7789.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our 11usd per night per person camp spot. Ouch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcjvW8Tbzl90ChXIqBx7kTHYiAPc8buD7M8FMZ4RP_JsLA83RZo2QXnMifKikACNfctxeXWjbGp2zzEfD0Bihy9oCEDgDeGnNeto1r-HzE9Jj4kitF2tF9Npgc4gY78EWKjK48uXyeGMB/s1600/IMG_7790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcjvW8Tbzl90ChXIqBx7kTHYiAPc8buD7M8FMZ4RP_JsLA83RZo2QXnMifKikACNfctxeXWjbGp2zzEfD0Bihy9oCEDgDeGnNeto1r-HzE9Jj4kitF2tF9Npgc4gY78EWKjK48uXyeGMB/s400/IMG_7790.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from camp spot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Back on the mainland we actually bumped into a few cyclists. My first in quite a while. And always such a highlight. Rosalinde had a knack of finding them along the roadside.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCNItD4OdqqEau38FTy6gnDoNVPxzMMsTVBSZEwi2uQKV09W2ZNWl7-8nLZB0DRaHUOfjssNWYHbFcMPg4zjXU9E0Lbg92qvEUsjqJbI7pCBMsiyDP63Qd5Qiyal_Ce_FQeGN2kL5gCpV/s1600/IMG_7776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCNItD4OdqqEau38FTy6gnDoNVPxzMMsTVBSZEwi2uQKV09W2ZNWl7-8nLZB0DRaHUOfjssNWYHbFcMPg4zjXU9E0Lbg92qvEUsjqJbI7pCBMsiyDP63Qd5Qiyal_Ce_FQeGN2kL5gCpV/s400/IMG_7776.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emanuel was from Switzerland. We rode and camped with him<br />
for a couple of days. Lovely hotel owners offered us breakfast of coffee and bananas.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cQGJf0zOoPopuxYAzDzik2tde9oxmCJs7xGZQU3rtSrT2PPA2m5CY0t6sVmdxd3PQM-0pqTDTPCIrkrmKcVXfzS9jTsGGOng1l1GXc0AfUCsBtaS60SMzxoXWWsZt_Tb5QM3pkFEJ21j/s1600/IMG_6054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cQGJf0zOoPopuxYAzDzik2tde9oxmCJs7xGZQU3rtSrT2PPA2m5CY0t6sVmdxd3PQM-0pqTDTPCIrkrmKcVXfzS9jTsGGOng1l1GXc0AfUCsBtaS60SMzxoXWWsZt_Tb5QM3pkFEJ21j/s400/IMG_6054.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hotel owner let us camp in the garden of his hotel for 3usd per night. Fab.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8X8y0lwIUEJ1d38JXY96zzZ41exXl4rFvSt7vGbfIRRyXgD7Xwji_0gBuojRcQGlbqLOIsL65ipFhTm2JZPuaKOwVPFX7qIKTJfcssQK9BjOMBTos0SzODXU0M4QzkURbry07lrHPVdNu/s1600/IMG_6055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8X8y0lwIUEJ1d38JXY96zzZ41exXl4rFvSt7vGbfIRRyXgD7Xwji_0gBuojRcQGlbqLOIsL65ipFhTm2JZPuaKOwVPFX7qIKTJfcssQK9BjOMBTos0SzODXU0M4QzkURbry07lrHPVdNu/s400/IMG_6055.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Hotel garden by the river.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFGbtH9kC-FiEnf5A_pwp7MsDTdjBBbimfyhh_b8dY7EzgE4KFfntGE5B5a4NBxs2-PcljeOkxYDkyUBEMqAdI3BftyT8ihlauNOtYtMMf7ltXbd74iORVOBMuYLMl3a1l6IJJo7m2OV5s/s1600/IMG_6065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFGbtH9kC-FiEnf5A_pwp7MsDTdjBBbimfyhh_b8dY7EzgE4KFfntGE5B5a4NBxs2-PcljeOkxYDkyUBEMqAdI3BftyT8ihlauNOtYtMMf7ltXbd74iORVOBMuYLMl3a1l6IJJo7m2OV5s/s400/IMG_6065.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Met a Catalan/French cycling couple at this roadside cafe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We ended up really liking Belize. The roads were decent enough. There was hardly any hard shoulder but it didn't really matter as traffic was light. The weather was warm but not too hot. We cooked every morning and night which meant we could stay within a 10ish usd per day budget. The people were lovely. Unusual but lovely. This below pic of of some Mennonites, a small community of German speakers who also live in Belize.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5wxVDpcN5vCuRLS-ZF2pqSG6U8CFaTKF-zfStBd-T9JFYBmrLWD7zYWl4NDIJ_QXrMyKj2MzgbyuQZm65czrzZ9V10a_7BsXSqGpOA65McQtQh8Ngcay0-nutb-IRG2tn1Wm2Q4Xi1Ks7/s1600/Menonite_Children.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5wxVDpcN5vCuRLS-ZF2pqSG6U8CFaTKF-zfStBd-T9JFYBmrLWD7zYWl4NDIJ_QXrMyKj2MzgbyuQZm65czrzZ9V10a_7BsXSqGpOA65McQtQh8Ngcay0-nutb-IRG2tn1Wm2Q4Xi1Ks7/s400/Menonite_Children.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">German speaking Mennonite children who live in Belize.<br />
Both young and old men wore the same uniform.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-YZLua8C5UWQIB6bmf3L7D0IiI6H0awOuZOYtsM1EhBiThH-XOpcirtZ20zRU23_tJ_N9HHTNhl5JANfv14hO0SEvaB7CM3TVvOvbFt8p1oz5aYcu-u-t7e2Qq6VXNSq5BFsT7c4oV99/s1600/IMG_6138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-YZLua8C5UWQIB6bmf3L7D0IiI6H0awOuZOYtsM1EhBiThH-XOpcirtZ20zRU23_tJ_N9HHTNhl5JANfv14hO0SEvaB7CM3TVvOvbFt8p1oz5aYcu-u-t7e2Qq6VXNSq5BFsT7c4oV99/s400/IMG_6138.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">All the shops in Belize are owned by the Chinese.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This wildlife sanctuary was a particular highlight. As with so many 'NGO project campsites' gringos pay a high price to stay but usually the money is going towards a cause. Most also have volunteer programmes. This particular one was no different. Volunteers (mainly from the US) paid 200 usd per week to come and volunteer at <a href="https://www.monkeybaybelize.com/" target="_blank">The Monkey Bay Wildlife Santuary.</a> It doesn't sit well with me that you pay to volunteer but I know that's kind of how it is.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypyYBH8i-M5FkZMXXEePYEpur9eshxiG-xKdpG6B_6HXC3USVocfI0AXsjTxKzzLBuNS4qXyj8MB2dLzkzos27m67uVxB8G33y1gvP5D9bPkzGPqduhxOS-byJAWjF-JMf9ehAMA9mvQY/s1600/IMG_6123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypyYBH8i-M5FkZMXXEePYEpur9eshxiG-xKdpG6B_6HXC3USVocfI0AXsjTxKzzLBuNS4qXyj8MB2dLzkzos27m67uVxB8G33y1gvP5D9bPkzGPqduhxOS-byJAWjF-JMf9ehAMA9mvQY/s400/IMG_6123.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping under our own palapa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8a3Cio1-zuEEtUcPQs9nQdg0E6N1Ut2nGp5sWLLat3uOcDkjvlO7J5vx9Bfi9BUIxoOC64GVyhyphenhyphencQgZvVXp_3tZ5gV0-iOlQ9v1sX-3nclhgNe3_OV2LjrcbiLThG3ORNDeHYdyvQkOO/s1600/IMG_6119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8a3Cio1-zuEEtUcPQs9nQdg0E6N1Ut2nGp5sWLLat3uOcDkjvlO7J5vx9Bfi9BUIxoOC64GVyhyphenhyphencQgZvVXp_3tZ5gV0-iOlQ9v1sX-3nclhgNe3_OV2LjrcbiLThG3ORNDeHYdyvQkOO/s400/IMG_6119.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosalinde washing dishes. A nice job in such lovely surroundings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AHfHJ2R1HEvgK6kS7QglE2nDlf6NdPETMcPPhvBzrXEVbufbxLiW7XSV3eMwygmB2DFDvlmOVonuas0i5Jgmbcm2ZayaTeaWsgo3Ux1i_PNm9xWkSN7AtipCAOmGqnq7AnGWHoubjtsy/s1600/IMG_6124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AHfHJ2R1HEvgK6kS7QglE2nDlf6NdPETMcPPhvBzrXEVbufbxLiW7XSV3eMwygmB2DFDvlmOVonuas0i5Jgmbcm2ZayaTeaWsgo3Ux1i_PNm9xWkSN7AtipCAOmGqnq7AnGWHoubjtsy/s400/IMG_6124.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our cooking spot at The Monkey Bay Sanctuary.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZTKrebuvxVbVWBU6B70jHmqnABAuMDBTu7jatvT6FelmFtpj8HykzU2YXQT_Je22yf9_177dqK-EMQ82QprvQeWqm4ZM0KA7GAI9o7bEkzxaM2B_QlMjbuth5tCtljAwrySlkMjfkRnd/s1600/IMG_6149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZTKrebuvxVbVWBU6B70jHmqnABAuMDBTu7jatvT6FelmFtpj8HykzU2YXQT_Je22yf9_177dqK-EMQ82QprvQeWqm4ZM0KA7GAI9o7bEkzxaM2B_QlMjbuth5tCtljAwrySlkMjfkRnd/s400/IMG_6149.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bridge in Belize we particularly liked. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-14495801753185348772017-02-14T18:52:00.003-08:002017-02-23T09:41:09.701-08:00Yucatan, Mexico<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>And suddenly everything is gorgeous...</b></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FsPJrn8gi2o/WJQE-SmL-kI/AAAAAAAARy8/JOt4ZwEtb7gpTyNjp3r5ZFkl9SY3XtAlQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FsPJrn8gi2o/WJQE-SmL-kI/AAAAAAAARy8/JOt4ZwEtb7gpTyNjp3r5ZFkl9SY3XtAlQCPcB/s320/IMG_7673.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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On January 26th, after spending a lovely week in Mexico city I flew on a 70usd one way flight with InterJet to Cancun. 50kgs of luggage were included in the hefty price tag which meant I could easily pack up my bike and all my camping stuff in one cardboard box. My friend from home Rosalinde (Dutch but lives in Dublin) was joining me and the easiest place she found to fly to in Mexico from Ireland, was Cancun. </div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JoORXRUIChM/WKO9Px1wtHI/AAAAAAAASqM/c0B1sgIZZEAcOM_eGMVKK-wXKqnvZLuHQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JoORXRUIChM/WKO9Px1wtHI/AAAAAAAASqM/c0B1sgIZZEAcOM_eGMVKK-wXKqnvZLuHQCPcB/s320/IMG_7606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">After building up our bikes at Cancun airport it was already<br />
dark. So we put on lights and high viz for the 20km ride into town.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rxTihuibICY/WKO8-8NJV6I/AAAAAAAASp8/wm72lcANN5M9Gtr92-cPS9NpwPGodmmZQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rxTihuibICY/WKO8-8NJV6I/AAAAAAAASp8/wm72lcANN5M9Gtr92-cPS9NpwPGodmmZQCPcB/s320/IMG_7609.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos was a wonderful host in Cancun.<br />
Brought us on a night bike tour for beers and tacos.</td></tr>
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I was expecting it to be a little hot and a little flat so was looking forward not only to the company, but also to some easy'ish days of cycling. What I never expected was the sudden holiday feeling that swept over me as soon as I saw the sea. The fact that I had a friend visit plus the amazing blue/green colour of the water, the clear blue skies, the 28 degree average daily temperature, the multiple daily swims, the riding on the bike with a bikini top and cycling shorts... all added up to the start of a wonderful three week holiday. Everywhere you looked the world was just so pretty.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rWsh4gCrkw/WKO78I6KUUI/AAAAAAAASpo/m8xcy8Vjk-kiIv4sq8yhXwKBBbCtC-EzACPcB/s1600/IMG_7642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rWsh4gCrkw/WKO78I6KUUI/AAAAAAAASpo/m8xcy8Vjk-kiIv4sq8yhXwKBBbCtC-EzACPcB/s320/IMG_7642.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Our first swim was at the Ritz Carlton in Cancun. We left our<br />
bikes at the door, walked through onto their private beach,<br />
grabbed some towels and swam in our underwear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HihvUuigXqM/WJQFg67NgrI/AAAAAAAARy8/J4hNG71P-6AFk84pSA3sqEvUaYOuslEQwCPcB/s1600/IMG_7659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HihvUuigXqM/WJQFg67NgrI/AAAAAAAARy8/J4hNG71P-6AFk84pSA3sqEvUaYOuslEQwCPcB/s320/IMG_7659.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This beach was particularly busy as we could swim out about<br />
20 metres and see loads of turtles just with our swimming goggles.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvrwXbUjc6w/WJQFU6wqieI/AAAAAAAARy8/REf9UoofcBoDV_L041jX7LLBAXj3FgVagCPcB/s1600/IMG_7663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvrwXbUjc6w/WJQFU6wqieI/AAAAAAAARy8/REf9UoofcBoDV_L041jX7LLBAXj3FgVagCPcB/s320/IMG_7663.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosalinde parking the bikes by a thatched palapa<br />
before going for yet another swim.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CaO3i3JOviA/WJQFIqJmHKI/AAAAAAAARzE/SAlmd1o9Q0k3lybRUYOVyBAi_v66Be-3ACPcB/s1600/IMG_7668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CaO3i3JOviA/WJQFIqJmHKI/AAAAAAAARzE/SAlmd1o9Q0k3lybRUYOVyBAi_v66Be-3ACPcB/s320/IMG_7668.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the colour of the water on a dull grey day.</td></tr>
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We had no fixed plan for Rosalinde's three weeks other than cycling south. She flew into Cancun and was flying out of Guatemala City, some <b>1200kms</b> further south, so we knew we would cycle through the three countries of <b>Mexico, Belize and Guatemala</b>. The Yucatan peninsula was first. Famous for Cancun, lots of Mayan ruins including one of the wonders of the world, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chichen_Itza" target="_blank">Chichen Itza</a> and tropical weather. It didn't disappoint. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_7dXgZjZ064/WJYUDKxKx7I/AAAAAAAARy8/LS6m4xgLc3YNBv7vH7Lk4e_pwkzeLycjwCPcB/s1600/IMG_7709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_7dXgZjZ064/WJYUDKxKx7I/AAAAAAAARy8/LS6m4xgLc3YNBv7vH7Lk4e_pwkzeLycjwCPcB/s320/IMG_7709.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pair of us find our first Cenote. </td></tr>
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What I didn't know but what the Yucatan is also famous for are <i><b>cenotes</b> (sinkholes). </i>Lovely big cool swimming holes normally found under big rock formations. They are everywhere. Some are very touristy and you can pay 25 usd to stay for the day, others are more local and you can pay 1-2 usd to go for a quick dip. <br />
<br />
<b>Tulum</b> was the only Yucatan Mayan ruin site which was directly on our route south. We woke before sunrise and got in before the crowds arrived. It is the only Mayan archaeological site in the Yucatan built on the sea and acted as the Mayan's main port. Built in the 13th-Century it was abandoned later and rediscovered by a British expedition in the mid 1800s.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--iPer0lc91U/WJQEfVTl6_I/AAAAAAAARy8/55Q-w-XygbET_CrqXZYgAibBk3mkOc-wQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--iPer0lc91U/WJQEfVTl6_I/AAAAAAAARy8/55Q-w-XygbET_CrqXZYgAibBk3mkOc-wQCPcB/s320/IMG_7683.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We cycled to the mayan ruins at Tulum and arrived for sunrise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ozi0TnXx6Bc/WJQEZzgXHXI/AAAAAAAARy8/uZcdDcM6T3gnID4OqMEJUMXgcJTIW2u7gCPcB/s1600/IMG_7681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ozi0TnXx6Bc/WJQEZzgXHXI/AAAAAAAARy8/uZcdDcM6T3gnID4OqMEJUMXgcJTIW2u7gCPcB/s320/IMG_7681.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turquoise water at the Tulum site even on a dull cloudy day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8be9JZ_tyQ8/WKO4oOhvNkI/AAAAAAAASnU/7J4TzxM2b1cg1e-j9esMg7_mbmUHxJaSQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8be9JZ_tyQ8/WKO4oOhvNkI/AAAAAAAASnU/7J4TzxM2b1cg1e-j9esMg7_mbmUHxJaSQCPcB/s320/IMG_7689.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosalinde's first of many porridges with apple<br />
and cinnamon.</td></tr>
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Rosalinde had never really cycle toured before. But she had been in the girl guides as a teenager so was a camping guru. And well, she is Dutch. So bikes are in her blood. She took to it like a duck to water. On the first night in Cancun we stayed with a warm showers host, night two saw us set up our mats and sleeping bags in chiropractor's surgery.<br />
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUgLSKYFJi8/WK8ei-4oOdI/AAAAAAAATUc/1ABg4XasUDskGrWvOn0SfHKny2qEU5cPQCPcB/s1600/IMG_7648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUgLSKYFJi8/WK8ei-4oOdI/AAAAAAAATUc/1ABg4XasUDskGrWvOn0SfHKny2qEU5cPQCPcB/s320/IMG_7648.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
Campaing on the floor of a chiropractor's practice in</div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
Playa del Carmen. Cancun Carlos put us in touch.</div>
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It wasn't until night three that we tried some wild camping. We set up shop near this private jetty and speaking later to some security guards learned that we were actually on a university campus. Beautiful peaceful quiet sleep. We obviously thought we could swim but were luckily told about the resident crocodiles just in time.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZVxyWp2j5o/WJYUrvViLUI/AAAAAAAARy8/uw_YEQN4f8ILrNfKUp5po9KQafsfsi4AgCPcB/s1600/IMG_6007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZVxyWp2j5o/WJYUrvViLUI/AAAAAAAARy8/uw_YEQN4f8ILrNfKUp5po9KQafsfsi4AgCPcB/s320/IMG_6007.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset and sunrise were stunning. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-11LB5wZeQWI/WJYU-6EbTWI/AAAAAAAARy8/LLelrdz1oB4_doCpTJiZsh4Ovr6SmIkwQCPcB/s1600/IMG_6014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-11LB5wZeQWI/WJYU-6EbTWI/AAAAAAAARy8/LLelrdz1oB4_doCpTJiZsh4Ovr6SmIkwQCPcB/s320/IMG_6014.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The joys of having a partner in crime means that <br />
there is a photo of me on a bike.</td></tr>
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Roads in the Yucatan were great. After the mountains of mainland Mexico the flatness was a real treat. The tarmac was good AND we often had a hard shoulder. Being January it was also not TOO hot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNbbACnMryo/WKOooYtstnI/AAAAAAAAShY/qzI_N3dVUl4lG3x6st2IZqcawUZHaP1ZgCPcB/s1600/IMG_5992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNbbACnMryo/WKOooYtstnI/AAAAAAAAShY/qzI_N3dVUl4lG3x6st2IZqcawUZHaP1ZgCPcB/s320/IMG_5992.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Flat tarmac, a hard shoulder plus some road signs.<br />
What a treat. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a1dxfaK0qgI/WKO1xRLjV5I/AAAAAAAASm0/2FI12W2nGwIUtbXXE8rUU6Gh5pHl6wUfwCPcB/s1600/IMG_5989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a1dxfaK0qgI/WKO1xRLjV5I/AAAAAAAASm0/2FI12W2nGwIUtbXXE8rUU6Gh5pHl6wUfwCPcB/s320/IMG_5989.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Although at 28 degrees C we were roasting,<br />
others obviously were cold.</td></tr>
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<div>
I mentioned briefly before about Mexico's pueblos mágicos. Over 100 towns that Mexico's tourism department has labelled as 'lovely'. Each has their own colourful sign which is quite clever actually as tourists stop all the time to take selfies. We were no exception.</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MyQ5y5Xoxr8/WJYUXJhFssI/AAAAAAAARy8/awlksVrHHJMmEySSXYrV8PX3l5Cc5PaZgCPcB/s1600/IMG_7721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MyQ5y5Xoxr8/WJYUXJhFssI/AAAAAAAARy8/awlksVrHHJMmEySSXYrV8PX3l5Cc5PaZgCPcB/s320/IMG_7721.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Chetumal, Mexico</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xm4yeUHE1A0/WKO6nYFH7wI/AAAAAAAASoU/XPp83rYjNpsRxoI-ZQXDRoe5uCM9RXO9QCPcB/s1600/IMG_7687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xm4yeUHE1A0/WKO6nYFH7wI/AAAAAAAASoU/XPp83rYjNpsRxoI-ZQXDRoe5uCM9RXO9QCPcB/s320/IMG_7687.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Tulum</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_IruLVvX7Gk/WKO7Ea3r2mI/AAAAAAAASow/1ecSvNaAOv8AameMxC4rqf17i1KCRgHZACPcB/s1600/IMG_5949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_IruLVvX7Gk/WKO7Ea3r2mI/AAAAAAAASow/1ecSvNaAOv8AameMxC4rqf17i1KCRgHZACPcB/s320/IMG_5949.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Riviera Maya</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GAPgF0kdHAM/WKO7U0LaxaI/AAAAAAAASpA/vAvCa185vEExTn7VwSJMDpb_OGHyXii1gCPcB/s1600/IMG_7654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GAPgF0kdHAM/WKO7U0LaxaI/AAAAAAAASpA/vAvCa185vEExTn7VwSJMDpb_OGHyXii1gCPcB/s320/IMG_7654.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You really know you're in a tourist area when you see<br />
the dolphins dancing in a hotel resort. A far cry from Baja.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l-TvCuMqKAA/WKO62OAWY-I/AAAAAAAASoU/5LgpFJpqsJIgFa3DwdIhygF3vbTRcPJsACPcB/s1600/IMG_5952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l-TvCuMqKAA/WKO62OAWY-I/AAAAAAAASoU/5LgpFJpqsJIgFa3DwdIhygF3vbTRcPJsACPcB/s320/IMG_5952.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The advantages to camping on the beach.<br />
A sunrise swim every morning.</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-10364011804634601682017-01-23T19:58:00.001-08:002017-02-14T06:25:07.639-08:00Reaching Mainland Mexico: Mazatlán to Guadalajara<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>The ferry from La Paz (Baja) to Mazatlán (the mainland)</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl4_Im0trypm0wstf5aJkxJObD0ENMvuyGXB7FooHsKmmb5ZsKuMfTEPSIonpGLWujOoR0c8AWr1YUBHUSCgwe98O4bhXRgcY2sobm9zQPHrI7zCO7wkjW_2dNMemtF-481obXs3e7TMy/s1600/ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl4_Im0trypm0wstf5aJkxJObD0ENMvuyGXB7FooHsKmmb5ZsKuMfTEPSIonpGLWujOoR0c8AWr1YUBHUSCgwe98O4bhXRgcY2sobm9zQPHrI7zCO7wkjW_2dNMemtF-481obXs3e7TMy/s320/ferry.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Australia, Germany, Canada, USA, Denmark and of course<br />
Ireland represented on the ferry.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ruFEyTXLQBdm3YHutud-Jg6IaTj7c83pdxC7CvaT2xbAryj4lCJaGZ2hIoXkQAqgVuTCZ0zJZbQKEotyfHRmHSKIJiaWJWGL2UirKTicVV1fgUxAmHO9q8Wh8Ge-JP9NEA0R60Rhq52U/s1600/IMG_7270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ruFEyTXLQBdm3YHutud-Jg6IaTj7c83pdxC7CvaT2xbAryj4lCJaGZ2hIoXkQAqgVuTCZ0zJZbQKEotyfHRmHSKIJiaWJWGL2UirKTicVV1fgUxAmHO9q8Wh8Ge-JP9NEA0R60Rhq52U/s320/IMG_7270.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting together on the ferry with the map of Mexico.<br />
We had all decided on different routes through Mexico.</td></tr>
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Since the ferry from La Paz to Mazatlán only runs three times per week it's not surprising that almost every ferry unites a small group of cycling tourers. The Baja acts as a sort of funnel and the only point of exit off the peninsula is the ferry port at La Paz. </div>
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Rumour had it that you could hitch a lift with the Mexican truck drivers (and save having to pay the 70usd ferry fee) so of course I thought I'd give it a go. After two hours of stopping trucks and asking for a lift I gave up. I bought a ticket and boarded the boat with the other cyclists. Such a great atmosphere. Myself and Leann had bumped into Helena (bottom right of the photo below with red cap) at a set of traffic lights outside LA. We just said a quick hello and goodbye as it was dark and pouring rain and we were nearing a camp site. And here almost 2000kms later I bump into her on the ferry.</div>
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<b>Mazatlán</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZqn4xZBhQ0GIjPZOwd67Xn6-iVf3bvYKTCECJ4JlHmOwZRhKZfmy1EUu-mV2tTkV_B-Mje8dk4WA9arGC9TV9_4PPtERn2MpVbnGht5v8hvu00Qj6tbythhxSk74F0Xwl8t_lNw6XA1A/s1600/IMG_7277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZqn4xZBhQ0GIjPZOwd67Xn6-iVf3bvYKTCECJ4JlHmOwZRhKZfmy1EUu-mV2tTkV_B-Mje8dk4WA9arGC9TV9_4PPtERn2MpVbnGht5v8hvu00Qj6tbythhxSk74F0Xwl8t_lNw6XA1A/s320/IMG_7277.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Seeing as there was a bunch of us, we cycled off for breakfast together as soon as the ferry docked after the 12 hour crossing and then all piled into a lovely hotel. Cheap as chips when you can share a room. But my oh my was the mainland hot.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nz4xwEkPYhvoCd_yusN_EbRewI14a3jkGjqLoOIpIz7hENdj_Kj61yhXkhjJgskOzywV0E0_8fRi5lvVvl39c37qKCPZ9PdgvKxP201Hf1232mKI_yxB_2zsjWbKEVS-74_ZVnB48tRJ/s1600/IMG_7278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nz4xwEkPYhvoCd_yusN_EbRewI14a3jkGjqLoOIpIz7hENdj_Kj61yhXkhjJgskOzywV0E0_8fRi5lvVvl39c37qKCPZ9PdgvKxP201Hf1232mKI_yxB_2zsjWbKEVS-74_ZVnB48tRJ/s320/IMG_7278.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful colours of the walls and doors of our Mazatlán <br />
hotel made me feel like I had just arrived in Cuba.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfuE4zARn32GUkouu80T7IxCGSkaV4EzBiITs-tgDvCZDLdyUQq96mI-bLJPooJDbGeuLGtrr4cKTAEH7tDY85j4w_XBZR5tN1fko4Jif-XHNIPK5ppla6isZllChVVm3OpNHY1WqDePF/s1600/IMG_7283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfuE4zARn32GUkouu80T7IxCGSkaV4EzBiITs-tgDvCZDLdyUQq96mI-bLJPooJDbGeuLGtrr4cKTAEH7tDY85j4w_XBZR5tN1fko4Jif-XHNIPK5ppla6isZllChVVm3OpNHY1WqDePF/s320/IMG_7283.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town plaza of Mazatlán with its own salsa dancing<br />
competition in full swing </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>The Cuota or not The Cuota ... that is the question</b></div>
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While other cyclists seem to have researched their routes and downloaded the maps for each country, I use the general strategy of getting out the map, finding some point about 70-80kms south and then just getting on the bike. I chat all along my way asking about the road up ahead, the climbs, how busy certain roads are, how far to the next town and it has worked fine so far. However on the Mexican mainland things are not quite so straight forward. </div>
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It seems that to get from city A to city B, one has two options. Option one is to take the toll road (la cuota). Option two is to take the old road (la libre). So while most cyclists seem to prefer the motorway/toll road for its hard shoulder and good'ish quality tarmac I actually hate them. On one particular day recently I was completely losing the will to live on a motorway hard shoulder and only for some supportive What's App texts from my friend Maria and her husband in Cork, I think I might have gone completely mad. I spent one full day amusing myself by following the hanzel and gretel crumb trail of these green chilies along the motorway hard shoulder. Pity it wasn't something slightly more stealable. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3pSOUoWPS4Y/WHkxqoPyYII/AAAAAAAAQVQ/03CUnxBUgVkM8UhO4OYjoB1oP70Z0jRFgCPcB/s1600/IMG_7310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3pSOUoWPS4Y/WHkxqoPyYII/AAAAAAAAQVQ/03CUnxBUgVkM8UhO4OYjoB1oP70Z0jRFgCPcB/s320/IMG_7310.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thousands of green chillies littered the hard shoulder<br />
of the motorway one day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The advantage of taking the old roads is that stuff is happening all along the route. There are roadside vendors selling tamales and tacos, informal restaurants selling lunch, farmers ploughing fields, kids playing. And also if you don't quite reach the destination you thought you might get to you can always find another village or town 10kms closer.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3oztiiwkze_-UhX5iYnIzzu8gVQvF5TrAH5lnI3TXaMveBoR-PbdafiLtF-4HZ3TRGpA3kqxwcKhPUtBrY8CodOZn_dczfItVAgF7_ZCL7poPhvmQoaZGfOcQsKP_Dx0LONW2JI5pRoW/s1600/IMG_7356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3oztiiwkze_-UhX5iYnIzzu8gVQvF5TrAH5lnI3TXaMveBoR-PbdafiLtF-4HZ3TRGpA3kqxwcKhPUtBrY8CodOZn_dczfItVAgF7_ZCL7poPhvmQoaZGfOcQsKP_Dx0LONW2JI5pRoW/s320/IMG_7356.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosamorada at sunset. A lovely town I had no<br />
intention of staying in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3bx-wuAarURgNHdyNZ7ISYrJWWzwJs8meBeRRvWLiOIqUkU7L6gzbIjvgCsBAKO__TES9p1pb6FY66DqHfo0ROH70OuLo-5gEpFUWuhtWbrqSHzTGNWRAls6Y8UIKhGBz35x_1mRpkRb/s1600/IMG_7376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3bx-wuAarURgNHdyNZ7ISYrJWWzwJs8meBeRRvWLiOIqUkU7L6gzbIjvgCsBAKO__TES9p1pb6FY66DqHfo0ROH70OuLo-5gEpFUWuhtWbrqSHzTGNWRAls6Y8UIKhGBz35x_1mRpkRb/s320/IMG_7376.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">In Rosamorada the police escorted me to the<br />
president's residence. The security guard let me sleep inside a spare room.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdutCBcK16TafUm5r06WrHR4xu7XQXEVW7mNRlT43x_UgpKciy9qgWFpuWKXZoTLcPPDtDF-wZgGGVudoHsj26qyi9MXLGkhu9sVuS2WeTlk1d-Q-p2DKQZXx2Iljebrr0TsGZuw5SCxwS/s1600/IMG_7415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdutCBcK16TafUm5r06WrHR4xu7XQXEVW7mNRlT43x_UgpKciy9qgWFpuWKXZoTLcPPDtDF-wZgGGVudoHsj26qyi9MXLGkhu9sVuS2WeTlk1d-Q-p2DKQZXx2Iljebrr0TsGZuw5SCxwS/s320/IMG_7415.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">On the old road locals often stop you and jump<br />
out of their cars for a photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Staying with the local parish priest in Ahuacatlán</b></div>
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My strategy to find a safe place to pitch my tent since on the mainland has been to ask at the fire station and if there was none, then I'd ask at the police station. But I had also heard that cyclists camped in churches. I wasn't quite sure how it might work but I had to start somewhere. Attempt one worked a treat. Attempt two, not so good. When I asked the one and only priest in the town of Ahuacatlán if I could camp on the church grounds he invited me to stay in the parish house. His mum was visiting so along with and en-suite bedroom I was also offered dinner and breakfast the next morning. Deadly.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH70_jy-kLyUvplZi1iB5RrhRIYXyvwmINgK4zwHOqD7oYYPm8YFdEIxlvJiJv7PDyrSYdL-O0x_SK1mIkMEbJ6r5Z6ZH8pkln5Yd-mlwSUhmDe_5l4E91WszgTF7bArLzuqkmFMypFYsz/s1600/IMG_7423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH70_jy-kLyUvplZi1iB5RrhRIYXyvwmINgK4zwHOqD7oYYPm8YFdEIxlvJiJv7PDyrSYdL-O0x_SK1mIkMEbJ6r5Z6ZH8pkln5Yd-mlwSUhmDe_5l4E91WszgTF7bArLzuqkmFMypFYsz/s320/IMG_7423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very comfortable room in the parish priest's house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27yDxhPjAZO2xtFClYzxpgmiotBk4XsQpjTbAZfqCV3kI_90kJ9v3kXedNWfFEd0l-h2tLDSfqAV_QmLhbuPXL9tkl0Fw0nJ-dZvYp3PPidzzeuN01cAbP0A8Yu6IGeniNGgP84T03Zvg/s1600/IMG_7425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27yDxhPjAZO2xtFClYzxpgmiotBk4XsQpjTbAZfqCV3kI_90kJ9v3kXedNWfFEd0l-h2tLDSfqAV_QmLhbuPXL9tkl0Fw0nJ-dZvYp3PPidzzeuN01cAbP0A8Yu6IGeniNGgP84T03Zvg/s320/IMG_7425.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My room with a view.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbzpFlcMFgsiH1QXvLhCzmLSxlWTRkVs_jMlkl01QtRc1TpZ5TysI6Nh0uq1SjyR5rJM26nNEP-hNz7yE_UQMkuu7Bbgq2xGaKQrPeOxlHebbpsl4qCFJBsVROauEhYPqXYmsA_5ehv70/s1600/IMG_7442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbzpFlcMFgsiH1QXvLhCzmLSxlWTRkVs_jMlkl01QtRc1TpZ5TysI6Nh0uq1SjyR5rJM26nNEP-hNz7yE_UQMkuu7Bbgq2xGaKQrPeOxlHebbpsl4qCFJBsVROauEhYPqXYmsA_5ehv70/s320/IMG_7442.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When trying to escape early the next morning there was<br />
no option but to wheel Sherpa right through the church.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Tried the same strategy the next night but wasn't quite so lucky...</b></div>
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So impressed was I with my first attempt at 'church camping' that I tried again in the next town the following night. The parish priest told me I could pitch Sweeny Green behind some railings beside the main church door. However at 10pm that night I got a knock on my tent door asking me to move. Two elderly homeless men said I was on their patch and should move. Had I not seen their cardboard boxes? Fortunately the church had two porches with railings so both men very kindly and politely helped me pack up my tent and all my stuff and move 20m down the way. They are the first homeless people I had seen in six weeks of cycling through Mexico.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhKEy_3YGswR9ef5IKV9pPyTGE9XgOB5pizobPiJbCMC9MNMknSIgxljRV_phUIveIeiIFcaMT6nrjsEt0O6SrYkFBi0JIVB1lt-25FNQOhfzIwZamznjGhT77iVfEpPYYV578fC1iQRi/s1600/IMG_7449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhKEy_3YGswR9ef5IKV9pPyTGE9XgOB5pizobPiJbCMC9MNMknSIgxljRV_phUIveIeiIFcaMT6nrjsEt0O6SrYkFBi0JIVB1lt-25FNQOhfzIwZamznjGhT77iVfEpPYYV578fC1iQRi/s320/IMG_7449.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeny Green tucked away nicely behind the church railings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGfTMEdZsarwx5_c7CtM1S8McNM6lrCBM7AOj1_TyuC2LajPnhJvfMKWV8b-EyrFBukgj4625H0QoW4xOKzbLoMJZpTDuI5Ebif7oPy4DoGWApXUhyFJMxPkLprY6PegIIIBIAvZpyzDM/s1600/IMG_7456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGfTMEdZsarwx5_c7CtM1S8McNM6lrCBM7AOj1_TyuC2LajPnhJvfMKWV8b-EyrFBukgj4625H0QoW4xOKzbLoMJZpTDuI5Ebif7oPy4DoGWApXUhyFJMxPkLprY6PegIIIBIAvZpyzDM/s320/IMG_7456.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the 'other' porch where the homeless men helped me move to.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFN8f0TxnikTgt7pvSZFH-V-679PX8O3i6lF0w76Ug-nivAuc6LFiy7q3QIdeWrwyERfvRJ5RfcZ51gbCdfAIc5lpU-VKUR_mp9A-ezq1c95AndAWFc76aGWvrRAgMvtnBo9_7_LFqPKJ/s1600/IMG_7464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFN8f0TxnikTgt7pvSZFH-V-679PX8O3i6lF0w76Ug-nivAuc6LFiy7q3QIdeWrwyERfvRJ5RfcZ51gbCdfAIc5lpU-VKUR_mp9A-ezq1c95AndAWFc76aGWvrRAgMvtnBo9_7_LFqPKJ/s320/IMG_7464.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church plaza the following morning. This was the first time I had<br />
seen bread which wasn't <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">'sweet bread' in Mexico. Hallelujah.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Esquinapa - the most famous town for biking in Mexico</b></div>
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Staying in the town of Esquinapa was a particularly lovely experience.<b> </b>At dusk I was taking a random exit off the soulless motorway when I bumped into three young lads on their mountain bikes. I asked where the cyclists stay when they pass through their town. They answered 'with Lance's mum'. And with that they escorted me to Lance's mum's house. Lance's real name is Pablo but so mad is he about bikes that he has been called Lance since he can remember. He is president of the local bike club.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsqEYnOeQoP8X0mWTjXhWuY8bKnXr56_Y6M6FElTvdtDXu184uFhX77yZFaBeumnhyvRq-Cve8QOMIyB_Cg8L8WvYyuAvcf-JCKXR1ZvGw48lu7Ky0y6zHXQTOOeN_GxvCmUcgepKfYia/s1600/IMG_7339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsqEYnOeQoP8X0mWTjXhWuY8bKnXr56_Y6M6FElTvdtDXu184uFhX77yZFaBeumnhyvRq-Cve8QOMIyB_Cg8L8WvYyuAvcf-JCKXR1ZvGw48lu7Ky0y6zHXQTOOeN_GxvCmUcgepKfYia/s320/IMG_7339.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pablo aka Lance at the back wearing the baseball cap.<br />
This house was well used to hosting cycle tourers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwk7StCQQxMIEeTql8a_5ruTU3Yc4sRlEkgy1OzHFWCadj-zWLoRPk6eGx9YxoWy8PEZ5dStC08zNBPlxeoPYiPL4q8AXRfjYhriseJCBnoZ14pO9YNE1kUDwKYETk0BJ8UqJwhU63Wg5/s1600/IMG_7314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwk7StCQQxMIEeTql8a_5ruTU3Yc4sRlEkgy1OzHFWCadj-zWLoRPk6eGx9YxoWy8PEZ5dStC08zNBPlxeoPYiPL4q8AXRfjYhriseJCBnoZ14pO9YNE1kUDwKYETk0BJ8UqJwhU63Wg5/s320/IMG_7314.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town of Esquinapa has a monument to the bicycle<br />
in its main plaza.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6TqTH1VVt2_L8chCagMxSsWzRdvr29WaJ-z4fxdm1WmQtS55nCqWNs_EtAdCDQp7_LiO3rAucHG6o9N-sq0p9KmKyMzReEWiHVOxdMsj-Q_JiNNKZAQTbkAo3z_Ci1FYOozwtabkwvPP/s1600/IMG_7317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6TqTH1VVt2_L8chCagMxSsWzRdvr29WaJ-z4fxdm1WmQtS55nCqWNs_EtAdCDQp7_LiO3rAucHG6o9N-sq0p9KmKyMzReEWiHVOxdMsj-Q_JiNNKZAQTbkAo3z_Ci1FYOozwtabkwvPP/s320/IMG_7317.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lads who took me to Lance's house.<br />
They took me to see the famous monument also.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A7I-yid8MB8/WIZ4YJ7xq3I/AAAAAAAAQ7E/AEUHk19bGG8dYOnoOB9K6A4eOjkgsuRPACPcB/s1600/IMG_7323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A7I-yid8MB8/WIZ4YJ7xq3I/AAAAAAAAQ7E/AEUHk19bGG8dYOnoOB9K6A4eOjkgsuRPACPcB/s320/IMG_7323.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriving just as night falls in the town of Esquinapa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>The good old Bomberos strike again</b></div>
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The mainland is oh so different from the Baja Peninsula. It's busy and noisy. It's hot and sweaty. There are loads of roads so the options for a cyclist are endless. I had heard that there was a good 'Casa de Cicilista' in Guadalajara, Mexico's second biggest city. So that's where I was aiming for.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvpw9DsVuRoKx7Vn0xpAWcQny9I1_LJ9fF1AcBWY37Vz4wV2Tf-2l6AM7x3v2n0JHEjuzP7ph4BFJ8VWO38f4xNpkXEmSP4vX3DHosFKlvmPO8KPG_dZ12VTdtLCrzZahd-pmRTtVL186/s1600/IMG_7347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvpw9DsVuRoKx7Vn0xpAWcQny9I1_LJ9fF1AcBWY37Vz4wV2Tf-2l6AM7x3v2n0JHEjuzP7ph4BFJ8VWO38f4xNpkXEmSP4vX3DHosFKlvmPO8KPG_dZ12VTdtLCrzZahd-pmRTtVL186/s320/IMG_7347.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very own room at the Bomberos in Acaponeta</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqviW3fH1tyhtsjwWxE8Fz76AUlDcOvc2ASq8PPQtaGFxtnn9F65a_tuMAdAhOSfjrKq8-QPSvZCD4Jtx6zKo-IsBBC1lb6RWtQf3zzOFknbqq1V6Hh7D4cCVfNWQxnwBbhlXnoIyxBd2/s1600/IMG_7351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqviW3fH1tyhtsjwWxE8Fz76AUlDcOvc2ASq8PPQtaGFxtnn9F65a_tuMAdAhOSfjrKq8-QPSvZCD4Jtx6zKo-IsBBC1lb6RWtQf3zzOFknbqq1V6Hh7D4cCVfNWQxnwBbhlXnoIyxBd2/s320/IMG_7351.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A most entertaining evening meal with the firemen at Acaponeta.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Mexican Food</b></div>
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Since hitting Mexico's mainland these stalls selling sweet dried fruit & veg keep popping up. Below shows some dried and sweetened pumpkin, grapefruit and turnip.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbWhQ_OJ8SaSbGIaQBLY6681I07IqKa2rUWFlT-YCLyNv5b1QapxkpCCorEDx2FoKWahsgM_Ww8OZ4lrRig2VASgqeMOPSWV7og6aA82WvCoX8VuOjQvG4myg8VkI1BrT0gpQt5l4gcxO/s1600/IMG_7327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbWhQ_OJ8SaSbGIaQBLY6681I07IqKa2rUWFlT-YCLyNv5b1QapxkpCCorEDx2FoKWahsgM_Ww8OZ4lrRig2VASgqeMOPSWV7og6aA82WvCoX8VuOjQvG4myg8VkI1BrT0gpQt5l4gcxO/s320/IMG_7327.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkPWB8Nl9bZ5QW9B1S9ibVDI6wg6NYdEyeoQh3iTRSpwxGrDnfkKW2ulkuc9Yj_gLoH0nLR4YWMpPmCnxan4KohTw9WT9E6Asbfaravx_ykOEDTs9RVYec_3cuLPDnUDjRwkC5HrDKDLL/s1600/IMG_7338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkPWB8Nl9bZ5QW9B1S9ibVDI6wg6NYdEyeoQh3iTRSpwxGrDnfkKW2ulkuc9Yj_gLoH0nLR4YWMpPmCnxan4KohTw9WT9E6Asbfaravx_ykOEDTs9RVYec_3cuLPDnUDjRwkC5HrDKDLL/s320/IMG_7338.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at Lance's house consisted of deep fried crispy<br />
tacos served in a cold spicy tomato soup with some<br />
grated carrot and cabbage on top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6J1ONyJjsWwZ9c6nxgH2ZiW_bNLFcfdrgb35-sjoAzp8V8d973FVjpi8YcE2lP4a9bxrH20hct6yWrjz_tJT2iBhyz7620j_RWzxD79fvbaY9S-EfyHCOyxH4hIDrG6_fQJnnjlWRna2n/s1600/IMG_7334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6J1ONyJjsWwZ9c6nxgH2ZiW_bNLFcfdrgb35-sjoAzp8V8d973FVjpi8YcE2lP4a9bxrH20hct6yWrjz_tJT2iBhyz7620j_RWzxD79fvbaY9S-EfyHCOyxH4hIDrG6_fQJnnjlWRna2n/s320/IMG_7334.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A huge portion of delicious ceviche. Raw shrimp and octopus with<br />
avocado and onion. All marinated in lime juice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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<b>My Food</b></div>
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My current go-to dinner on the road is some chopped up boiled spuds with a salad of hardboiled egg, scallions, tomato and of course lime juice. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9tdDn-7Nh1BWeXfThA9aaDSrDttC9MsaTNbUb4_iHFhsjJkPO1q0mMo_XIswtSRzDwW6fludtEYalpc_3_w_V-eNEkywplcxOxLc9ZPh8rFYXmwApJvoEcFu5GRn2L-t08FA9gIRzXmr/s1600/IMG_7364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9tdDn-7Nh1BWeXfThA9aaDSrDttC9MsaTNbUb4_iHFhsjJkPO1q0mMo_XIswtSRzDwW6fludtEYalpc_3_w_V-eNEkywplcxOxLc9ZPh8rFYXmwApJvoEcFu5GRn2L-t08FA9gIRzXmr/s320/IMG_7364.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uVlNDTN8pVydUVmc5gkkh5J9atg6i7Y6rI0ZoVd0te7g0e-86pC_2vGLHhFRwfs4lCPfUIblXbduvo9usELqZH15f386R0Pvmi37NWHtb3MzR751PfhxDIY-RRRZSnviDudtTPmCcH4i/s1600/IMG_7302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uVlNDTN8pVydUVmc5gkkh5J9atg6i7Y6rI0ZoVd0te7g0e-86pC_2vGLHhFRwfs4lCPfUIblXbduvo9usELqZH15f386R0Pvmi37NWHtb3MzR751PfhxDIY-RRRZSnviDudtTPmCcH4i/s320/IMG_7302.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very dull motorway hard shoulder lunch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqw7X3imUEeWYBHror2CsH25HOIIZ5Z-DID7obh4BE503DSexIHbGTubrSfz5Ta8U59Wv0W0qtLm3xN_-3u_BuijJeiOGihes719eRIsd1MBAKbIqRYXbgPN2HME_Xzd7D8v69zw1oILd5/s1600/IMG_7437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqw7X3imUEeWYBHror2CsH25HOIIZ5Z-DID7obh4BE503DSexIHbGTubrSfz5Ta8U59Wv0W0qtLm3xN_-3u_BuijJeiOGihes719eRIsd1MBAKbIqRYXbgPN2HME_Xzd7D8v69zw1oILd5/s320/IMG_7437.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very own handmade egg box.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>The Town of Tequila</b></div>
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There are 111 Pueblos Magicos (magic towns) in Mexico. It was an idea of the Department of Tourism during the 1990s to highlight some particularly lovely towns for tourists to visit. Tequila is one of them and was directly on my route. It was gorgeous. I could have stayed a week. But I just had time for lunch.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-_kQe0mLjo2w10e_WMRO2My5tLDmhJS5_rGhF_C8zBMFpeKe1VhLFTlsMY-81HMxbDngCOJHm5SlXhQkosf3IfAZw7OwHbKWynU_oJO38woOOYAkU1G1KNwmaXmeawumdz7W9bM5JmFf/s1600/IMG_7475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-_kQe0mLjo2w10e_WMRO2My5tLDmhJS5_rGhF_C8zBMFpeKe1VhLFTlsMY-81HMxbDngCOJHm5SlXhQkosf3IfAZw7OwHbKWynU_oJO38woOOYAkU1G1KNwmaXmeawumdz7W9bM5JmFf/s320/IMG_7475.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A road sign welcoming me to the town of Tequila.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUEWYst1d9KbKgXjj51bmIDYh1JSuFhIykZ25MLSuwLIrcd2Xr4UWJFbiotwAJWn1HuoWkE-NWXn0Iz9gP785vQdoLQyJbZcU1ZHw4ABXplPU5mqB0EDpIsQaGWx1yXqH9u1pNSf8rbrx/s1600/IMG_7481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUEWYst1d9KbKgXjj51bmIDYh1JSuFhIykZ25MLSuwLIrcd2Xr4UWJFbiotwAJWn1HuoWkE-NWXn0Iz9gP785vQdoLQyJbZcU1ZHw4ABXplPU5mqB0EDpIsQaGWx1yXqH9u1pNSf8rbrx/s320/IMG_7481.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Tequila's cathedral on another sunny day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmVwJSdeMAPgsQePYaHQymp7HoMbCHBz2-VofrGdI38R1tBiQfrlOA78PAJd04dn0JRqeTj326o2bWEhQmB0jb0UckGYm5hoMkJBmcr8lvzyKAtkfTa6q5E0TVd9zPyxyCvYcxWW7hMsp/s1600/IMG_7467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmVwJSdeMAPgsQePYaHQymp7HoMbCHBz2-VofrGdI38R1tBiQfrlOA78PAJd04dn0JRqeTj326o2bWEhQmB0jb0UckGYm5hoMkJBmcr8lvzyKAtkfTa6q5E0TVd9zPyxyCvYcxWW7hMsp/s320/IMG_7467.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">A beautiful day's ride into the town of Tequila on the old road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZlVBCnkTF8SI2huHjx_t0DfXln7qWXwoVSvSiZUdOjWzcvu93HoEjnF1OK2Md3dEKr4ynmJoKrpdZctQFQnUrO6GEwawQ6yzYd-l19sKSzfBoIMCVg1VHfH_v0P0FSGZxP_hNlPxhYpf/s1600/IMG_7465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZlVBCnkTF8SI2huHjx_t0DfXln7qWXwoVSvSiZUdOjWzcvu93HoEjnF1OK2Md3dEKr4ynmJoKrpdZctQFQnUrO6GEwawQ6yzYd-l19sKSzfBoIMCVg1VHfH_v0P0FSGZxP_hNlPxhYpf/s320/IMG_7465.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tequila is made from the agave plant which grows<br />
along the roadside in this region of Jalisco.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Guadalajara</b></div>
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The casa de ciclista (home of the cyclist) in the city of Guadalajara was a real highlight. The huge building in a nice part of town was bought for the bike cooperative by a travelling cycle tourer from California. He liked the idea of the bike coop so much that he wanted to support the project and so bought the coop a home. The casa now consists of a regular bike shop which often holds training workshops, a specific centre for building bamboo bikes, a kitchen and bedroom and bathroom for travelling cyclists and an event room. Highspeed internet plus the company of other travelling cyclists made it a welcome break from the hot, sweaty noisy and busy roads.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZykwntvoJIk3auihIz3fchhgMpHEn9RRb0NG0uaYyfDBX5ODckMrmlyK0y1Bb685kGnDw3Y5oz4ene5IyocaG9K2tCBSkQcSPXoox7hI0SXMe-GS4v2NY3BI3WrUaTJLmXEi7mOW4uLQ/s1600/IMG_7497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZykwntvoJIk3auihIz3fchhgMpHEn9RRb0NG0uaYyfDBX5ODckMrmlyK0y1Bb685kGnDw3Y5oz4ene5IyocaG9K2tCBSkQcSPXoox7hI0SXMe-GS4v2NY3BI3WrUaTJLmXEi7mOW4uLQ/s320/IMG_7497.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring downtown Guadalajara with some other<br />
touring cyclists.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6f1sRcUBt4-V9ieQDRRIBJIG595_7HoY6_6hjhB0a0U3XCFUy65Pg8I2HYtmdRIvusus9LRiuPts0_PjNnmCS-X7qVVGTum_d4CtP9QcnilspsvOOeMkTO81D-jDwv0YT2RNUssS5BYY/s1600/IMG_7506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6f1sRcUBt4-V9ieQDRRIBJIG595_7HoY6_6hjhB0a0U3XCFUy65Pg8I2HYtmdRIvusus9LRiuPts0_PjNnmCS-X7qVVGTum_d4CtP9QcnilspsvOOeMkTO81D-jDwv0YT2RNUssS5BYY/s320/IMG_7506.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very own planning office with blackboard wall and chalk <br />
at Casa de Ciclista, Guadalajara.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I know this might seem a little odd but I just thought I'd include it to sum up the mood here in Mexico at the moment. I came across the below photo when looking at photos of a recent bike conference on the laptop of one of the guys who worked at the casa.<br />
<br />
He described a recent global bike coop conference that took place at the casa in Guadalajara a few months previously. It's called <a href="http://www.bikebike.org/" target="_blank">BikeBike</a> and is held in a different country every year. In 2016 BikeBike was held Mexican style in Guadalajara. In Mexico there is a tradition of the ' La Piñata'. A papier maché object is hung from the ceiling at parties and a everyone takes turn bashing the Piñata with a baseball bat blindfolded. Well at this year's BikeBike a certain Mr Trump was hidden inside the Piñata and well you can imagine what happened.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_1LYICJVQ8Io8TR4Hi9n4CeFN7sNI7pfZbkLt05VYK_gH4UIbCc_MQd4Z_58BxmXnUvTB_joWW9RhF8ke48pdq91UoiSZxtzf4pUV1SRSOagezkVi_CurtI9AgmqGPZvGXG07xa_zemE/s1600/IMG_7501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_1LYICJVQ8Io8TR4Hi9n4CeFN7sNI7pfZbkLt05VYK_gH4UIbCc_MQd4Z_58BxmXnUvTB_joWW9RhF8ke48pdq91UoiSZxtzf4pUV1SRSOagezkVi_CurtI9AgmqGPZvGXG07xa_zemE/s320/IMG_7501.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A certain Mr Trump being bashed with a baseball bat<br />
at the bike conference.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-66216534413261767462017-01-11T13:16:00.003-08:002017-05-30T05:07:54.390-07:00Baja California - South<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>The long and not winding road...</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRyWd6PHOO4iV7F1XqO5qOnF7TphUAGU5gveerqIW2kg-k5kT0UEorbWgdm9xOF2f0yK5XUBxLRdqqOQox5-LAY5-drtpgOM85V0Hog0mwrelWymWoAtcpW00ni4AY-N1e0ZKXjJImOr3/s1600/IMG_6768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRyWd6PHOO4iV7F1XqO5qOnF7TphUAGU5gveerqIW2kg-k5kT0UEorbWgdm9xOF2f0yK5XUBxLRdqqOQox5-LAY5-drtpgOM85V0Hog0mwrelWymWoAtcpW00ni4AY-N1e0ZKXjJImOr3/s400/IMG_6768.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Tarmac and sand.</td></tr>
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The one thing I learned while on the Baja peninsula is that if you are riding 70-80 kms per day you are actually going too fast. The problem is that there is only one road. Mex 1. So if you want to cycle through this desert and get to the end, you need to stay on the road. But all the magic happens off the road. Down little lanes - dirt roads - towards the beach. That's where the magical star-filled desert night sky wild camping happens and the beautiful sunsets and sunrises. Unfortunately as a lone rider I always tended to stick to the road... looking for water and, as I mentioned in the last blog, those illusive humans too. </div>
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So I cycled on the highway, camping behind noisy restaurant shacks, only wild camping a couple of times. Three weeks into my Baja cycle I met a beautiful French/Argentinian cyclist couple who taught me the magic of Baja lesson. This pair live on their bikes so are not necessarily going from one place to another in any particular timeframe. They live a really simple life, eating cheap local produce, swimming, fishing, camping on beaches. A lifestyle which costs almost nothing. In 2016 for example they both worked in the US, seven days a week for one month. With the money they earned they could happily travel by bike in Mexico/Central America for the other 11 months. More about them later. </div>
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I always thought that cycle touring was a good pace to see a country, nice and slow yet making some progress each day. But Baja taught me that a bike is sometimes actually too fast. On Baja, the magic happens when you get to a beach 20kms into your day, having planned a 70km day and you change plans entirely and decide to set up camp. One day turns into two and then to four. That's when you spot the whale shark and decide to go for a swim with it. That's when the local fishermen ask you if you want to join on a sunrise excursion to catch shrimp. That's when you can swim late at night under a full moon with phosphorescence everywhere in the water. This was the kind of Baja I was hearing about, but unfortunately not experiencing. Instead I was pedalling along a noisy highway with no hard shoulder constantly looking for water. Hmmm.</div>
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<b>Rescued by the Americans... again</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nNqA6QFFqUCcwIdPju7FVWq14esBYQYxKgukTT2tNNBXjTMceBSHSGndn65Z1kOoJhOnIsa759jhu6tq0tSIEk1mD02RkhQ8vxsav0Xzd3bFRSItsTmFSPtyhktIRlBc8YWuDt6BlTR4/s1600/IMG_6799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nNqA6QFFqUCcwIdPju7FVWq14esBYQYxKgukTT2tNNBXjTMceBSHSGndn65Z1kOoJhOnIsa759jhu6tq0tSIEk1mD02RkhQ8vxsav0Xzd3bFRSItsTmFSPtyhktIRlBc8YWuDt6BlTR4/s400/IMG_6799.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">John and his wife took me for a ride on the beach on their<br />
dune buggies before I headed off.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">B<span style="font-size: small;">aja Sur was also filled with communities of retired Americans. If I met some at a petrol station or restaurant I was often offered a bed or place to pitch my tent. I always accepted and often headed off the next morning with clean clothes, clean finger nails and full water bottles. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh293lUwzYFPzLCqpnTgVadDzOazgihpgdS8wKUTcjKLzePuRr52P4fYHwDMdES9kyGQG1LX1HxG_go7_7VLJVd-lznuJPqm7dH_ITkplVP4fqMxUW_B_cTrbXo3YcCuqpfmyYoDtFUbrVT/s1600/IMG_6804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh293lUwzYFPzLCqpnTgVadDzOazgihpgdS8wKUTcjKLzePuRr52P4fYHwDMdES9kyGQG1LX1HxG_go7_7VLJVd-lznuJPqm7dH_ITkplVP4fqMxUW_B_cTrbXo3YcCuqpfmyYoDtFUbrVT/s400/IMG_6804.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherpa camps out on a shady deck by the beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgFVVe0A6AQTKMSSaH842K2bTqtthy2m0_WbYa6hbYgn9OrIQYlcyIPecnej0PNBGwLrfJzVcW9wrcyk_rNbeU0it5Sxae08_7XThoDWnKpmGFPf73H-3fevWESKpsOwGEaWmKTuxHoUF/s1600/IMG_6800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgFVVe0A6AQTKMSSaH842K2bTqtthy2m0_WbYa6hbYgn9OrIQYlcyIPecnej0PNBGwLrfJzVcW9wrcyk_rNbeU0it5Sxae08_7XThoDWnKpmGFPf73H-3fevWESKpsOwGEaWmKTuxHoUF/s400/IMG_6800.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first dune buggy ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCT9SxdoV-lNwH6NABT3_PvQEauVepTXE9tWXOzU4eDQgdzF_sttEalOsqo2aJsQSxtaDv2fhR0YxnbWfwVXLRXRC5uctBXYQau8wwIWGngMM7lDhOI_bH9XdVp0Uf1dB9Y_VVo84R7oMn/s1600/IMG_7054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCT9SxdoV-lNwH6NABT3_PvQEauVepTXE9tWXOzU4eDQgdzF_sttEalOsqo2aJsQSxtaDv2fhR0YxnbWfwVXLRXRC5uctBXYQau8wwIWGngMM7lDhOI_bH9XdVp0Uf1dB9Y_VVo84R7oMn/s400/IMG_7054.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marty had a racing 2 seater buggy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In Mexican Spanish the English word 'lunch' has been converted into 'lonch'. Just like you find bread in the 'Panaderia' or tyres in the 'Llanteria' or fruit in the 'Fruiteria' or books in the 'Libreria' ... you obviously find lunch in the 'Loncheria'.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOulG9j0mtgbwAy89oEyh_36fWd2DUPpPVX-wJdfzEIF-ytJ7aAn2XEALlFD_J0Ici55zJ8xM1rL_wXu5npKvc_MZyVv-vFDXkg1r5Wk02sfRYmKnqiyL3lYqZbd7IeiXEGwbqAtS5nOY/s1600/IMG_6857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOulG9j0mtgbwAy89oEyh_36fWd2DUPpPVX-wJdfzEIF-ytJ7aAn2XEALlFD_J0Ici55zJ8xM1rL_wXu5npKvc_MZyVv-vFDXkg1r5Wk02sfRYmKnqiyL3lYqZbd7IeiXEGwbqAtS5nOY/s400/IMG_6857.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch in the Loncheria.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AHTVseG13OaJMvCiMTBn4gFdE6PbvFCJs8TO8pRhwohQOWTdiS7J45y7IYLvD9Oyk4Uj7mAXtm3ISe43Lh0NyeMkzbgnaaaQ2MxrqL4JqudJx2IJHRN0ynXJdtyTEy9RKKVAI6DuCziZ/s1600/IMG_7055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AHTVseG13OaJMvCiMTBn4gFdE6PbvFCJs8TO8pRhwohQOWTdiS7J45y7IYLvD9Oyk4Uj7mAXtm3ISe43Lh0NyeMkzbgnaaaQ2MxrqL4JqudJx2IJHRN0ynXJdtyTEy9RKKVAI6DuCziZ/s400/IMG_7055.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beach I would loved to have camped at.<br />
But I was only 20kms into my day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-JVAi6gsf3ot7HR9-d1Sp7px-YXYaJyjfId_ao6QEY4AigxEdzgKwlKImu5wKqFU1G5qcraaWZvB57vT6c8ntygdPnPNmva02djph7IHTmvivaE7mDI4U6BiulAMrKStz48VKO0q4_CM/s1600/IMG_7068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-JVAi6gsf3ot7HR9-d1Sp7px-YXYaJyjfId_ao6QEY4AigxEdzgKwlKImu5wKqFU1G5qcraaWZvB57vT6c8ntygdPnPNmva02djph7IHTmvivaE7mDI4U6BiulAMrKStz48VKO0q4_CM/s400/IMG_7068.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sweeny Green camping out with her own solar panel.<br />
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<b>Some humans at last</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7brtWdwi6p6hLSFYOckedK2LzBpqGPUqdFn1hXe_wcJEavo_UpZogqjPRZBGcXOPBWs-gM3kweL9LEWx0wa7EWmcilMfAJALk0ZtXL3P-RFAH1IFoGdxE3xzKoKXLRB8xEgizrUmhFneg/s1600/IMG_7070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7brtWdwi6p6hLSFYOckedK2LzBpqGPUqdFn1hXe_wcJEavo_UpZogqjPRZBGcXOPBWs-gM3kweL9LEWx0wa7EWmcilMfAJALk0ZtXL3P-RFAH1IFoGdxE3xzKoKXLRB8xEgizrUmhFneg/s400/IMG_7070.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miguel and Mauricio were the first Mexican cyclists I met.<br />
From Guadalajara.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbItzbPAxCeNPjEKHsz8QsjQgIDYMPtD8G898ma-4NGSe0JJSB46U0C9U7s9HTYidlRAKbhiuvygskUzjnQum5OCTJEabOGGLK_Na07b8iTW5wzxRfcT_cc1riUXG4S4GjV5EvMOlyG551/s1600/IMG_6863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbItzbPAxCeNPjEKHsz8QsjQgIDYMPtD8G898ma-4NGSe0JJSB46U0C9U7s9HTYidlRAKbhiuvygskUzjnQum5OCTJEabOGGLK_Na07b8iTW5wzxRfcT_cc1riUXG4S4GjV5EvMOlyG551/s400/IMG_6863.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Dhruv was cycling from Alaska to Patagonia. The first Indian<br />
cycle tourer I have ever met. Also the first Indian cyclist he has ever met.</td></tr>
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<b>The Baja Divide</b><br />
<div>
One night a young American mountain bike rider/racer called Cedar Kyes rolled into a restaurant I was camping at, at about 8pm. So a good two hours after sunset, with massive lights on both his handlebars and helmet. If anyone is interested in the 1700 mile off road Baja Divide route (hashtag BajaDivide) I recommend checking him out on Instagram - cedrocosta. He's a US racer and sponsored by about 100 brands. An exaggeration but you get the idea. In return for all the gear he videos parts of the rides on his Go Pro and posts all sort of stuff on social media. This was his Baja Divide bike. 29 inch wheels, 3 inch wide tyres, super light <a href="http://www.bikepacking.com/" target="_blank">bikepacking</a> set up with the main weight of his gear in the frame bag. The <a href="http://www.bajadivide.com/" target="_blank">Baja Divide</a> is a new off road route through the Baja desert and is becoming very popular. </div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTu8hstDEBy1HflqNw1JdE_DvtV4e7Sh1elxAN_LeM8p89ScBZM4GgqFflqCsVW7-CXontnLnXDAFWNt_tXSgS_tZmJ5cw_LBmxl7diPf5inRGlr1Wfz4sNcsYoDwhS9Nto8SMaR0SaTr/s1600/IMG_7063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTu8hstDEBy1HflqNw1JdE_DvtV4e7Sh1elxAN_LeM8p89ScBZM4GgqFflqCsVW7-CXontnLnXDAFWNt_tXSgS_tZmJ5cw_LBmxl7diPf5inRGlr1Wfz4sNcsYoDwhS9Nto8SMaR0SaTr/s400/IMG_7063.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Cedar Kyes' super light-weight bike packing set up.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ksx9RLm_Zo06QYO7Kiw6sXiXFNzI0i_oRiLNdGFAhBJWDSQKIvwV-TTHuQ5FQ5D8Zwvk4ZI6eT5ofUxBFvfFCUOnumFgjSugpk2mZg7dRVNdNp9i1ej2UEBWPYiUM7p_AH2o26yHdbIW/s1600/lael+wilcox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ksx9RLm_Zo06QYO7Kiw6sXiXFNzI0i_oRiLNdGFAhBJWDSQKIvwV-TTHuQ5FQ5D8Zwvk4ZI6eT5ofUxBFvfFCUOnumFgjSugpk2mZg7dRVNdNp9i1ej2UEBWPYiUM7p_AH2o26yHdbIW/s400/lael+wilcox.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Lael Wilcox on the Baja Divide - photos from laelwilcox.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs70P7sSXZYD1wnnTfxGhasLK42ghYkgq8DLQF8Kth9yQv1AYoUJA5yvNswsXkPf5ZjLUGHPokb_7GbHJ9m_0tR4Mo1KAZG2_MmXPhAx_awtY9lM1c0kUwp4qO4aevbxZmINFWZAqEYkSO/s1600/push+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs70P7sSXZYD1wnnTfxGhasLK42ghYkgq8DLQF8Kth9yQv1AYoUJA5yvNswsXkPf5ZjLUGHPokb_7GbHJ9m_0tR4Mo1KAZG2_MmXPhAx_awtY9lM1c0kUwp4qO4aevbxZmINFWZAqEYkSO/s400/push+bike.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heike Pirngruber on the Baja Divide - photo from pushbikegirl.com</td></tr>
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<div>
<b>New Years Eve Magic</b><br />
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<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/XdHdOLy1iXY/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XdHdOLy1iXY?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogNxJ2Zho-GLi_B94oXCAzVlaZB1H5Ha-KAoPA3cvGj35qZ8dxxM9hMRhyphenhyphenJPosXnDWhR96-TKcF31lJT7Ochmkp_dlzaYmVcZHSzHXpeuk4RMolT51Y-EJum8IgT-0gr7KBz_007NSmky/s400/IMG_7098.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark clouds overing over a mountain range I needed to climb.</td></tr>
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New years eve was supposed to be a 65km day with an average bit of climbing and finding a camp spot behind the only restaurant on a 150km stretch of highway. However while in a shop drinking a full fat Coke (a treat as it was Christmas and sometimes I just crave a can of Coke) a guy approached me asking if I owned the bike out front. He was Adriano from France. He told me he was also a cyclist but I only half believed him as he was driving a big 4x4 jeep. He told me himself and his Argentinian girlfriend, Anna also a cyclist, were camping 10kms back up the road, that they had been there for three weeks and were having a big party on the beach that night with some local sailors. I invited myself to the party and within 10 minutes my bike was packed into the back of the jeep and we were heading north to a marina called Puerto Escondido.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTHr67e25AcgfjUw2K4nRlnM03_Zre49nePRRcXLRGPA54DYtS1JzeKOZVHuZPTbn5ZzffmLsPI1YET0ns6hgC-BxFOR5IH-Znw_i6tsZzAZLWn7PQCfK3djQib04Gss5Q4nSGBF_34Fb/s1600/IMG_7132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTHr67e25AcgfjUw2K4nRlnM03_Zre49nePRRcXLRGPA54DYtS1JzeKOZVHuZPTbn5ZzffmLsPI1YET0ns6hgC-BxFOR5IH-Znw_i6tsZzAZLWn7PQCfK3djQib04Gss5Q4nSGBF_34Fb/s400/IMG_7132.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrano and Anna lived on Jeff (from Oregon) and Coya's (the Costa Rican dog) <br />
trimaran boat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jeff (landscape gardener from Oregon, USA) had bought a trimaran boat (I never knew Catamarans with three legs existed) but didn't know how to sail. Adriano was a sailor with a bike instead of a boat. Anna was a Spanish speaker with not much English. Jeff was learning Spanish. So put the three of them together and you had a fantastic Spanish/sailing learning, dog-loving mini community. They welcomed me with open arms to their new year's party, to sleep on their luxurious boat and to swim in the dark under a full moon playing with the phosphorescence in the water. A magic new year's eve.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimm0iAblJbcMIRICtTw9SoMomRWJ7kPppcDvNDmLIkG8PHWOTP09Bp_ZabNcyRSFNS4eT5v9peSxNk1gB0ghyEzpZ6CHsL2AhB2Mc_Do1liR0kLK4w4NdKEz3fx_ltkFpeevRJNOjtTmA/s1600/IMG_7113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimm0iAblJbcMIRICtTw9SoMomRWJ7kPppcDvNDmLIkG8PHWOTP09Bp_ZabNcyRSFNS4eT5v9peSxNk1gB0ghyEzpZ6CHsL2AhB2Mc_Do1liR0kLK4w4NdKEz3fx_ltkFpeevRJNOjtTmA/s400/IMG_7113.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adriano is carrying a small accordion on his bike.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjpa_RnEOsWhfNyLSJOAX5XyhsHaR8vfU6zl8qChDZPVVxuV-0vR2h8QuLFb72eQ7tyTeiJuZQJEcXToQX0YZhixLx5SKHZCYmgs8Uh_A6YgDKesURjnez4uATIA7wFko9CbZKNdP3DR5/s1600/IMG_7116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjpa_RnEOsWhfNyLSJOAX5XyhsHaR8vfU6zl8qChDZPVVxuV-0vR2h8QuLFb72eQ7tyTeiJuZQJEcXToQX0YZhixLx5SKHZCYmgs8Uh_A6YgDKesURjnez4uATIA7wFko9CbZKNdP3DR5/s400/IMG_7116.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna washing her teeth on the boat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBn_BNL86wl4dXOX1reXaZ99mVsEpvUoHoH1uuIq23rstkqpnCIci_tR11qW3vBzvPtFcam4XxyUlEEqpMJw0VPOdvmUfKhU2W-M-lF34Z3igS5dlq_bXUyfbbqfzAbFivbhL6seWxmbp/s1600/IMG_7117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBn_BNL86wl4dXOX1reXaZ99mVsEpvUoHoH1uuIq23rstkqpnCIci_tR11qW3vBzvPtFcam4XxyUlEEqpMJw0VPOdvmUfKhU2W-M-lF34Z3igS5dlq_bXUyfbbqfzAbFivbhL6seWxmbp/s400/IMG_7117.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff brushing his long hair.</td></tr>
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On new year's day a bunch of us from the campfire party headed into a gorge for a walk. This type of secret gorge walk does not appear in any guidebook so great to be brought along by the locals.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT16xSwhlO68TFFiG_oaYLZiaBViuuTOdhrbubdjKGQ4x99A8XIpzgij7zEhyphenhyphen7yVnMfhucTWMwZ89q1aexTaEdjYSRFqSnGARX5pC5mBKtuWGuAEm4Wcs8rB3zBMTxrbq_YU_cRC5Dp4d0/s1600/IMG_7141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT16xSwhlO68TFFiG_oaYLZiaBViuuTOdhrbubdjKGQ4x99A8XIpzgij7zEhyphenhyphen7yVnMfhucTWMwZ89q1aexTaEdjYSRFqSnGARX5pC5mBKtuWGuAEm4Wcs8rB3zBMTxrbq_YU_cRC5Dp4d0/s400/IMG_7141.JPG" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo shoot of gym bottle given to me<br />
by my tennis team mates the night before I left Ireland.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Se2Oq689jh6dWDfRD02cYFkhyvjsKgBOnQjhth0Lq4V5r0wZ6Wm0pB3PskEVZOroLYosv9pDx76EU6ijeAjn8YxfbyXU-f7WRS361J8KQtnHToHn4-Cj5b1QQyTETWiOw2AqYyMWH4wr/s1600/IMG_7153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Se2Oq689jh6dWDfRD02cYFkhyvjsKgBOnQjhth0Lq4V5r0wZ6Wm0pB3PskEVZOroLYosv9pDx76EU6ijeAjn8YxfbyXU-f7WRS361J8KQtnHToHn4-Cj5b1QQyTETWiOw2AqYyMWH4wr/s400/IMG_7153.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yogi, vegan, amazing Spanish speaker Jackie from Sydney.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hwd6p4V-v0k/WG_4ILTszkI/AAAAAAAAPw0/wnVEhxier-44buGAeFgdnLVAXZlqWzKPgCPcB/s1600/IMG_7157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hwd6p4V-v0k/WG_4ILTszkI/AAAAAAAAPw0/wnVEhxier-44buGAeFgdnLVAXZlqWzKPgCPcB/s400/IMG_7157.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Adriano, Anna, Jackie - very sad to leave but the road calls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzmZSNDw71x3aE-e5-GJAimsDzF1FfoBIBAvOaanjPX1ildKTO9YaQ8ckk65sO5Tvcegoa5WHmzQIiu56SOUf0LvsND120x779pnSCfAzx336UeGgW0_JaP9nmYlIDvu_nhqrhjfvuPR3/s1600/IMG_7166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzmZSNDw71x3aE-e5-GJAimsDzF1FfoBIBAvOaanjPX1ildKTO9YaQ8ckk65sO5Tvcegoa5WHmzQIiu56SOUf0LvsND120x779pnSCfAzx336UeGgW0_JaP9nmYlIDvu_nhqrhjfvuPR3/s400/IMG_7166.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Loreto, climbing up into the Baja hills again.</td></tr>
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<b>Bitten by a hornet</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAfjf6oeQRxQFTswIogCC2L5lQlz8-VyKhgGDnpgZzNEZSDsC95SS9lGF0ORcVJSkCjhGXYBN1ixT9nOw6GXPLeNWItiG4AEUCYoms8nxWWtq1t0g4xvKx8L5dRIV7V_rD9_JzbvRuTFU/s1600/IMG_7175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAfjf6oeQRxQFTswIogCC2L5lQlz8-VyKhgGDnpgZzNEZSDsC95SS9lGF0ORcVJSkCjhGXYBN1ixT9nOw6GXPLeNWItiG4AEUCYoms8nxWWtq1t0g4xvKx8L5dRIV7V_rD9_JzbvRuTFU/s400/IMG_7175.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">48 hours after being bitten by a hornet I woke<br />
up with a swollen forehead and left eye.<br />
Thanks for Dr. Leann's care via Whats App photos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTyOEA0DBpJvLNDXCY5VD45zICOB75liehtHBdxcwb-6zdmVUFMhC5GH4K4nI-_91rz9OdQOvXttb17qtoM10PzU3d30tQiWiFbMsx47dXqNiy7K0ekdevEGHSBuzHPZMp1Fcxc9H0TqU/s1600/IMG_7213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTyOEA0DBpJvLNDXCY5VD45zICOB75liehtHBdxcwb-6zdmVUFMhC5GH4K4nI-_91rz9OdQOvXttb17qtoM10PzU3d30tQiWiFbMsx47dXqNiy7K0ekdevEGHSBuzHPZMp1Fcxc9H0TqU/s400/IMG_7213.JPG" width="352" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After 3 days the swelling/pooling moved from left eye to right.<br />
5 days later all the swelling was gone. Phew!</td></tr>
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<b>Reaching the end of Baja California</b></div>
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Reaching Tuli's warm showers house after almost five weeks cycling Baja was like an oasis. Access to a kitchen, a bed and chat with other cyclists was such a welcome change. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLYAPfqxcD2bmugKfpgv-kZM8kl1gwijHYAbYm3mS_lVzQPQpsvHJHqWUxFp-1-l1bA3lkR1b0IrP9w6ZK3jmIxtbiEAmrMzir25Iq10lw-lcKaItNz1KHruIxgH9MlKobe-dUjEcYP31/s1600/IMG_7267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLYAPfqxcD2bmugKfpgv-kZM8kl1gwijHYAbYm3mS_lVzQPQpsvHJHqWUxFp-1-l1bA3lkR1b0IrP9w6ZK3jmIxtbiEAmrMzir25Iq10lw-lcKaItNz1KHruIxgH9MlKobe-dUjEcYP31/s400/IMG_7267.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaye from Melbourne (left) Tuli (right) and her 3 dogs.<br />
A Warm Showers haven in La Paz, Baja, Mexico<br />
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-40343064192580569882016-12-29T18:24:00.002-08:002017-09-10T12:50:24.052-07:00Baja California - North<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVYH8aBRze8X4hClsv7B6hnxvVBrdVhMn1RyjY7n6yHxBr-Rfs7IcrrROFag_KSKQPgjfGChcVh3huU5ZU4RKDAXAw-zRzFdleimN0ibJ-IsOcoI5P9wuwV1Mkt52nm0zfuGyCfbsAn1Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-12-29+at+09.40.42.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVYH8aBRze8X4hClsv7B6hnxvVBrdVhMn1RyjY7n6yHxBr-Rfs7IcrrROFag_KSKQPgjfGChcVh3huU5ZU4RKDAXAw-zRzFdleimN0ibJ-IsOcoI5P9wuwV1Mkt52nm0zfuGyCfbsAn1Q/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-12-29+at+09.40.42.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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As I sit here in a motel reception in Loreto, Baja on Thursday, Dec 29th I have ridden consecutively for 15 days and am 3/4 way through Baja California. I'm tired and dying for a few days off the bike. It's been a tough old section of the route. Always an endless road ahead, very few towns, very few cyclists, desert and cacti. But as I look back through my photos to see which ones are worth writing about I smile. Today I'm tired and bored and feeling a bit down in the dumps. But as I look back through my Baja trip I see so many highlights and memories of so many good days and magic moments. Writing this blog has been a very good exercise me thinks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccHohJpBdouKRymxnOMA-2s3bpcFa7kT7nXWe5Exu5sKQ_gaUony5JejF2xxQaIhypblY6NV4I8TDLRmR0fkLDfNqKTkkaZ9Url15P6PkCVE6WK5ncSHrOhSGJt2Kboev1Mw0ZTY47tMy/s1600/IMG_6821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccHohJpBdouKRymxnOMA-2s3bpcFa7kT7nXWe5Exu5sKQ_gaUony5JejF2xxQaIhypblY6NV4I8TDLRmR0fkLDfNqKTkkaZ9Url15P6PkCVE6WK5ncSHrOhSGJt2Kboev1Mw0ZTY47tMy/s320/IMG_6821.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on the road in Baja.</td></tr>
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Before I arrived into Baja I had heard that this section was a 'desert' and full of 'retired American snowbirds' (Americans looking for a cheap sunny winter shelter) and that it was not as nice as cycling trough mainland Mexico. I have cycled now through three weeks of desert, met way too many drunken retired American snowbirds, camped out between many cacti (often spectacular) and must have eaten 100 tacos (either shrimp, deep fried breaded fish or grilled beef) but all quite yum. At $1 a pop, a tasty daily encounter. I can't comment yet on the comparison to the mainland but I'm kind of done with the desert and dying to get into Mexico proper.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjMYO_voHYUXl6J3GoDvkxAXUAI7SPw8KNss7aa7CUDQY5tmLaTYr_wLYJnwVl5sTmJGB6vGhvkF2EX3c4rbkvBEeIG_qS05jPMbWY1teQ6UIsfV4iQsJMT6WbsAutXEXJYkafnXkVtyo/s1600/IMG_6520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjMYO_voHYUXl6J3GoDvkxAXUAI7SPw8KNss7aa7CUDQY5tmLaTYr_wLYJnwVl5sTmJGB6vGhvkF2EX3c4rbkvBEeIG_qS05jPMbWY1teQ6UIsfV4iQsJMT6WbsAutXEXJYkafnXkVtyo/s320/IMG_6520.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first fish and shrimp tacos in Tijuana, Mexico</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCX9Lba23t_BiosD6hW47S7_J3NmrnvkPiuY6sfQDdZf8FaDS-d5G7PFTdAdh7NtQytimfa6DXKWhbCyUeTY0GRbYQZTm-05JnVP-4KAh-9TOrJLgEFTeTVNsITZisP5M1XsqtH8bzzoJb/s1600/IMG_6522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCX9Lba23t_BiosD6hW47S7_J3NmrnvkPiuY6sfQDdZf8FaDS-d5G7PFTdAdh7NtQytimfa6DXKWhbCyUeTY0GRbYQZTm-05JnVP-4KAh-9TOrJLgEFTeTVNsITZisP5M1XsqtH8bzzoJb/s320/IMG_6522.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious ceviche - raw shrimp marinated in lime juice</td></tr>
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There are two route options when cycling down the Baja. Either you keep going on Mexico 1 - the pan-american highway - or you cross the mountains to San Felipe and take the quieter east coast. In a moment of madness I decided to take the advice of my lovely Tijuana warm showers host (Sandra) and opted for option two. It turned out to be some of the most challenging cycling I have ever done.<br />
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There were nights camping wild in the desert among the cacti in the pouring rain, nights in deserted fishing villages looking for any sign of human life to ask for some water, nights spent at army checkpoints and glorious nights spent with Sweeny Green pitched behind random little restaurants that were on no map but which gave me access to electricity (diesel generators and/or solar), water and human company.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yOdB47AkfvTB-8-QCwE8Xz7O6TDCfd8f1DIU72nPNR6HcptE2qhuBXso3Juf1dJEJgRyAei16aDkHt6j7qMCIiZeL_iHP1Vj1H1yKLAgtatDnhP72ntUWF1D1DoVgwgAd-5tcNu3vDnF/s1600/IMG_6603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yOdB47AkfvTB-8-QCwE8Xz7O6TDCfd8f1DIU72nPNR6HcptE2qhuBXso3Juf1dJEJgRyAei16aDkHt6j7qMCIiZeL_iHP1Vj1H1yKLAgtatDnhP72ntUWF1D1DoVgwgAd-5tcNu3vDnF/s320/IMG_6603.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First night of wild camping in the Mexican desert.</td></tr>
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<b>Baja starts at Tijuana</b><br />
Tijuana was a delight. Primarily because of the kindness of a warm showers host called Sandra. She picked me up from the border, brought me out for dinner and beer, brought me home (up 5 ridiculously steep hills) and then brought me to work with her the following day as my bike was in the workshop for some serious TLC.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7khgYunCAMGaa9LGCXJnkz83xvPc7IIzxUsSiuBpsfU8B0giVrPuCvEEv98q3kADWN9Yn84g423CtGlSiOpF0prPVIrfoU52XUlVJfPkx1QyTg4yuQpDwGe_xH7e-yXWpRWS0qetj6Ztt/s1600/IMG_6524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7khgYunCAMGaa9LGCXJnkz83xvPc7IIzxUsSiuBpsfU8B0giVrPuCvEEv98q3kADWN9Yn84g423CtGlSiOpF0prPVIrfoU52XUlVJfPkx1QyTg4yuQpDwGe_xH7e-yXWpRWS0qetj6Ztt/s320/IMG_6524.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Sandra.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj59OZjryEhDn8lqdGnFe6_dvkVFPAiyzv4CwQhpqDUjEKsDV6CbcOyBZwIZimTq6z1vZzhaDMhFw9CYcvV6Wgl1Ofeqe_oRWjCWlKX29SVVCCxdZENKYMOQdN95lb0O7j5mIHu5fYEm3n/s1600/IMG_6489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj59OZjryEhDn8lqdGnFe6_dvkVFPAiyzv4CwQhpqDUjEKsDV6CbcOyBZwIZimTq6z1vZzhaDMhFw9CYcvV6Wgl1Ofeqe_oRWjCWlKX29SVVCCxdZENKYMOQdN95lb0O7j5mIHu5fYEm3n/s320/IMG_6489.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Made at your table' cesar salad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sandra brought me to a bar which I would more expect to see in Paris than in Tijuana. It was gorgeous. Jazz music softly playing in the background. A far cry from the crazy border I had crossed ten minutes earlier. However tasty, at $10 for four lettuce leaves it was a tad pricey.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WCbFC8WycRckNwIb9DkaG09Exwb0uR3IRv8CUpj1Exik_Y-3n_Nla0_31Iavzw7IYQpj9rto38are-lqtfPLxTVQ0YtryiuxM3mQzaI75kb7N49if_HVAwWjdOMl94fZGMtrkjmHqHFw/s1600/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WCbFC8WycRckNwIb9DkaG09Exwb0uR3IRv8CUpj1Exik_Y-3n_Nla0_31Iavzw7IYQpj9rto38are-lqtfPLxTVQ0YtryiuxM3mQzaI75kb7N49if_HVAwWjdOMl94fZGMtrkjmHqHFw/s320/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Bar in Tijuana where the Cesar salad was invented - 1927</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio98hXPRP7ypd7dpEFKcUTqSsCHrEDBuv_1gt_OG7dWP8MiD1i7dCBuJ8inJtufMKKKm98iL4zKyGAegZkTHJ9p1Qo0BOyKlNn3mvlZzaLywxSteXd8_n1m8VzbqyuqtD6XacrXVtkmhl1/s1600/IMG_6535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio98hXPRP7ypd7dpEFKcUTqSsCHrEDBuv_1gt_OG7dWP8MiD1i7dCBuJ8inJtufMKKKm98iL4zKyGAegZkTHJ9p1Qo0BOyKlNn3mvlZzaLywxSteXd8_n1m8VzbqyuqtD6XacrXVtkmhl1/s320/IMG_6535.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first Mole. Chocolate flavoured sauce over Enchiladas. Not really my thing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My bike pedals had been clicking for a week or two and the cranks were wobbly. So I knew something was wrong. A new bottom bracket was needed. I ended up spending three nights in Tijuana as the bike shop was pretty busy. But oh my goodness, when I got my bike back it sparkled and rode like a Mercedez. It had crossed my mind to get the bike serviced in San Diego before I crossed the border, for some silly reason I thought the service might be better or they would have access to more mechanical parts. Silly me. The service and quality from my first Mexican bike shop was fantastic. And at $50 for a new bottom bracket, new chain, new brake pads, full service and full clean - a bargain!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmsszJKCwdbFjVwF4-GIg0vxotHhrpUxA0YZoH_vlpblOfBWciERVlSFg1qZMrAQaFT8Rjc-v-czEKIqV-N0mmTzVsER70tQry1Knn3QKqK9JZODJxDwmCB_5rl9IkqvDZ_uRN8AayCKN/s1600/IMG_6553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmsszJKCwdbFjVwF4-GIg0vxotHhrpUxA0YZoH_vlpblOfBWciERVlSFg1qZMrAQaFT8Rjc-v-czEKIqV-N0mmTzVsER70tQry1Knn3QKqK9JZODJxDwmCB_5rl9IkqvDZ_uRN8AayCKN/s320/IMG_6553.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old bottom bracket looks a little rusty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPIXpuh491A-MJdnxWtSG-WJCX8T_thyPpEmAoXT3Sb8LudS2RQFMmE9Su1PgzjPQ7fMKewIzqJ2Dh4Q3N02NhJsAwkJorHcoHw0JEUV8JQfFZEnJyjmOrgYNPwdl1OphKrndDthWvOvy/s1600/IMG_6555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPIXpuh491A-MJdnxWtSG-WJCX8T_thyPpEmAoXT3Sb8LudS2RQFMmE9Su1PgzjPQ7fMKewIzqJ2Dh4Q3N02NhJsAwkJorHcoHw0JEUV8JQfFZEnJyjmOrgYNPwdl1OphKrndDthWvOvy/s320/IMG_6555.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hardly recognised my bike it was so clean.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From Tijuana I got a bus to Ensenada - as this was where myself and Leann had cycled to. And yet again warm showers came to the rescue.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQL3reFW1LdVboZBAURjoF9XQNVHfIomgqAX2MYsQvRq57CIzIDsDCM_Al_56dWQZtGPzd5YNuMBSnbeSvz2uHc1K1KIvblWbkpDBoSgHA00qbWunpWQnED-Hh0eqvWnf2Tq8FWfLA8OAf/s1600/IMG_6582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQL3reFW1LdVboZBAURjoF9XQNVHfIomgqAX2MYsQvRq57CIzIDsDCM_Al_56dWQZtGPzd5YNuMBSnbeSvz2uHc1K1KIvblWbkpDBoSgHA00qbWunpWQnED-Hh0eqvWnf2Tq8FWfLA8OAf/s320/IMG_6582.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a Christmas tree. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYeuz_4GC1muxnMbsTn6HHDX5o6BgQ4EWuZfAgDGujB7DMkTl7hoqVqFlK-2cw3_4iCokMpNo4MjpKT_BCvb7i584WuwiOtk2V6-Ou-fGdSc-aA_og0NOiht9U9AEgzlABgtnw_nb0gci/s1600/IMG_6590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYeuz_4GC1muxnMbsTn6HHDX5o6BgQ4EWuZfAgDGujB7DMkTl7hoqVqFlK-2cw3_4iCokMpNo4MjpKT_BCvb7i584WuwiOtk2V6-Ou-fGdSc-aA_og0NOiht9U9AEgzlABgtnw_nb0gci/s320/IMG_6590.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas time family breakfast in Ensenada. Eggs on ham.<br />
And of course refried beans.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxHlmqCXov8nUV6d-kl-nYjtu3MYipQERkw03JIgD0p79EdUhmuj2IhgMWx5lpo_-USObVlKxB-YTwxVernG865_h08kb1QAMBDAcsJ0RQTEKsNoacfxu20oaQwkY1NLdcnxGsmq208dZ/s1600/IMG_6597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxHlmqCXov8nUV6d-kl-nYjtu3MYipQERkw03JIgD0p79EdUhmuj2IhgMWx5lpo_-USObVlKxB-YTwxVernG865_h08kb1QAMBDAcsJ0RQTEKsNoacfxu20oaQwkY1NLdcnxGsmq208dZ/s320/IMG_6597.JPG" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antonio, Mara and their 3 teenage boys host cyclists from all<br />
over the world every week of the year. It's how the kids have learned English.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Little did I know leaving Ensenada that that would be the end of warm showers, breakfast eggs, comfy beds, light switches that work, taps which have running water coming out of them and HUMANS!!!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXYuuH7Xd7Oi97jjnTvZEdp4iLAGNcvEIwEeIT0d1jOclIrVzIHByKwEysPo94xis3LipQgK7ODNWJZdr47X14_Ca2F5ivmuqt0SPlOKXDZBKi8WvLPDvC1QoB8KA51kQozbG5zcUW89S/s1600/IMG_6616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXYuuH7Xd7Oi97jjnTvZEdp4iLAGNcvEIwEeIT0d1jOclIrVzIHByKwEysPo94xis3LipQgK7ODNWJZdr47X14_Ca2F5ivmuqt0SPlOKXDZBKi8WvLPDvC1QoB8KA51kQozbG5zcUW89S/s320/IMG_6616.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ear phones a bit of a necessity. God bless Radio 4's Desert Island Discs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibxDqAXqmd4TB60OjASwP6cZieF4H6q0EHkgCf8a6hQYni14Qho4vyfdSshWem36c6knUKp_ZjGCefmpf9iiHry6yVHh1Y2m-Cr0Zxln1Kkm0Z3Wi6LucS0my7_NSUrH-x5GnLMyNN_tO/s1600/IMG_6726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibxDqAXqmd4TB60OjASwP6cZieF4H6q0EHkgCf8a6hQYni14Qho4vyfdSshWem36c6knUKp_ZjGCefmpf9iiHry6yVHh1Y2m-Cr0Zxln1Kkm0Z3Wi6LucS0my7_NSUrH-x5GnLMyNN_tO/s320/IMG_6726.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some kms of Baja Norte road. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVXPWxsmQV76ZHloXfMNCykulhwQukTuYaYJX2897zozlVJ9opYL_y_ddHKsrg4B39Dv4TqQxonbndsyrdh7gYUr_Xlq7mdSarVywsBtphUpJlKsB7dWGMKZEctfUtFQXAQvD-9dBhYtw/s320/IMG_6770.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some more kms.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVXPWxsmQV76ZHloXfMNCykulhwQukTuYaYJX2897zozlVJ9opYL_y_ddHKsrg4B39Dv4TqQxonbndsyrdh7gYUr_Xlq7mdSarVywsBtphUpJlKsB7dWGMKZEctfUtFQXAQvD-9dBhYtw/s1600/IMG_6770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
At the cross road of Mex 3 and Mex 5 is an army checkpoint. On that particular day it was my aim to get to that checkpoint. Where there is army, there is water was my thinking. The army then sent me a couple of kms down the road to the nearest shop where I spent a very happy evening camping with Jesus (pronounced Hay-Zuz) and his wife and family. Jesus was very proud to show me his thermometer. As I was now on the east side of Baja California which is divided from the mainland by the Sea of Cortez, temperatures during the summer can reach a balmy 50 degrees celsius.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVXPWxsmQV76ZHloXfMNCykulhwQukTuYaYJX2897zozlVJ9opYL_y_ddHKsrg4B39Dv4TqQxonbndsyrdh7gYUr_Xlq7mdSarVywsBtphUpJlKsB7dWGMKZEctfUtFQXAQvD-9dBhYtw/s1600/IMG_6770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
Jesus and his family ran a small roadside restaurant. It had no electricity except for a few hours during the evening when he ran a diesel generator. During this time I charged my phone while the kids watched cartoons on the TV. They also had no running water. All the water they used for drinking, cooking, washing was bought in large 20L drums. At this stage I'm surprised if water actually comes out of a tap in Baja California.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnaF2nNK5kV0ke57zk9lxpOg5BOK9KOy5D7yijjbg7Y_0j_4Yry6RtzYwHO2wjcAduiJsE3Z7QhEv8PQ1-P0dDYVFq62AcHUhwVnCiuwAD3tsabGRuilcj6qYVuX4ebsx9SPg4l79rvSH/s1600/IMG_6755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnaF2nNK5kV0ke57zk9lxpOg5BOK9KOy5D7yijjbg7Y_0j_4Yry6RtzYwHO2wjcAduiJsE3Z7QhEv8PQ1-P0dDYVFq62AcHUhwVnCiuwAD3tsabGRuilcj6qYVuX4ebsx9SPg4l79rvSH/s320/IMG_6755.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus pointing out that temperatures can reach 50C in the summer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdKuyEk_7c-K8aBrpoJKF9zR7oZ2V-NZ0N-zHSx5barF3oD_QQaoewO2zLlN7t4tBL1DzLddmtovq5VTS5Im1HsEBxKEVnHB7eVq3LztSEq0JMccXMgMBoHoqnhTFX5Bt5BNqF7Tb1oD8/s1600/IMG_6751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdKuyEk_7c-K8aBrpoJKF9zR7oZ2V-NZ0N-zHSx5barF3oD_QQaoewO2zLlN7t4tBL1DzLddmtovq5VTS5Im1HsEBxKEVnHB7eVq3LztSEq0JMccXMgMBoHoqnhTFX5Bt5BNqF7Tb1oD8/s320/IMG_6751.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus offers me my own room for the night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrUF3KPGabqehI6yer-KyP2E08j2z0LVhrGS5h7QDmGkT2YcM0tU0GoSKL5xoZ5MpWjVIhswZcHOz4Imo_fr4PDu4U-t9JuqcLSbxX4FNg90QFN3RJleRAJ5AizDKNb86jKX5H-RITfGp/s1600/IMG_6749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrUF3KPGabqehI6yer-KyP2E08j2z0LVhrGS5h7QDmGkT2YcM0tU0GoSKL5xoZ5MpWjVIhswZcHOz4Imo_fr4PDu4U-t9JuqcLSbxX4FNg90QFN3RJleRAJ5AizDKNb86jKX5H-RITfGp/s320/IMG_6749.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 stone walls AND a roof, quite the luxury.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3P1v-LO5AUsBG7i3s7uqJtYbWpQaYwDGLdw9GMUfWZbR50AXtxMNMY6xWC7r5Sb6-q4ieXqo28XzX6s3vLQwdDNj16rkSXyhG4IYe9oeYNu37gPwAYMlTCWeCfIveK-ZoCQ95jRvwAZm/s1600/IMG_6765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3P1v-LO5AUsBG7i3s7uqJtYbWpQaYwDGLdw9GMUfWZbR50AXtxMNMY6xWC7r5Sb6-q4ieXqo28XzX6s3vLQwdDNj16rkSXyhG4IYe9oeYNu37gPwAYMlTCWeCfIveK-ZoCQ95jRvwAZm/s320/IMG_6765.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus' wife and son. We drink coffee, eat oranges and chat until<br />
late in the evening sitting around a large log fire in the kitchen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The following morning I ask can I cook my porridge in their kitchen. As I boil my oats, raisins and powdered milk (pot on the right), Celia fries beans and boils green tomatoes and chilies (pots and pans on the left). The beans go into the tortillas as a base layer, while the green tomatoes make the yummiest salsa. They eat all this with fried chicken for breakfast. Quite the cultural difference.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YTGrsBnF1gvDEd4dJ3tPX5lQeLBUs7j6NfxUJarvHFnSoTeQV7Qaqxdm8PVisSYzJ2d2S1FxxqwSVa8nmLyvf0gI2zxb3x6hNLt-92-R6X7hZ1ScpEaX2dCYyDK6JJ97LNhLkdmzUwdb/s1600/IMG_6767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YTGrsBnF1gvDEd4dJ3tPX5lQeLBUs7j6NfxUJarvHFnSoTeQV7Qaqxdm8PVisSYzJ2d2S1FxxqwSVa8nmLyvf0gI2zxb3x6hNLt-92-R6X7hZ1ScpEaX2dCYyDK6JJ97LNhLkdmzUwdb/s320/IMG_6767.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiling green tomatoes and chilies while I cook porridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75hi-3Xkmrlo0VvY27oPPsEyzYlBF6gkFERYFx4vJvkHObXBMjy6O5mwhmTbYIhBMkPLd4zceAfcMGHDiW7FEsu4Tt-jnC7y_JNixUhkqZG865S3gDb10HGieCkd7FkxcLlhzH4v3yBnj/s1600/IMG_6815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75hi-3Xkmrlo0VvY27oPPsEyzYlBF6gkFERYFx4vJvkHObXBMjy6O5mwhmTbYIhBMkPLd4zceAfcMGHDiW7FEsu4Tt-jnC7y_JNixUhkqZG865S3gDb10HGieCkd7FkxcLlhzH4v3yBnj/s320/IMG_6815.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I did not much enjoy pushing Sherpa up this road. Crazy! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>From San Felipe south</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of the more interesting nights was spent in the little fishing village of El Huerfanito. At dusk I turned off the road onto a dirt road to the beach. I had seen some structures from a distance and thought there might be human life and therefore water. And just as if it were planned a man called Nacho appeared outside the first shack. He was more than happy that I pitched Sweeny G in a kind of garage beside his shack. It was blowing a gale at this stage and I was so glad of the shelter of three plastic walls and a tin roof. Nacho moved some chairs and work benches so that Sweeny G could fit snugly into a sheltered spot. He had very little but as with all other Mexicans I have met, was happy to share anything he had with me.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_rwmFgdsz2eYoW4AUFs8Z69QkPzlqW0JsCr8QW3GkqPSZqmPFs36tYmZ-i83Nz7h6zPCtbQOUJxfwhNXCxVH9kfR714kk0W8clzs4ymbYkDh8jhZdN2r3GwwcyqXjA-4AXyauwbxCQJl/s320/IMG_6823.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeny Green tucked neatly into Nacho's garage with three walls and a roof.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_rwmFgdsz2eYoW4AUFs8Z69QkPzlqW0JsCr8QW3GkqPSZqmPFs36tYmZ-i83Nz7h6zPCtbQOUJxfwhNXCxVH9kfR714kk0W8clzs4ymbYkDh8jhZdN2r3GwwcyqXjA-4AXyauwbxCQJl/s1600/IMG_6823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_rwmFgdsz2eYoW4AUFs8Z69QkPzlqW0JsCr8QW3GkqPSZqmPFs36tYmZ-i83Nz7h6zPCtbQOUJxfwhNXCxVH9kfR714kk0W8clzs4ymbYkDh8jhZdN2r3GwwcyqXjA-4AXyauwbxCQJl/s1600/IMG_6823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
I had heard about the illegal fishing of the Totoaba fish. It's a fish that is only found in the northern part of the Sea of Cortez. Seemingly the Chinese will pay a Mexican fisherman 6000 usd for the bladder. Its trade started three years ago.<br />
<br />
According to the drunken retired Americans I met, a workman in Baja earns 200 pesos per day (10 usd). So based on that, one fish is worth about two years of a workman's salary. I thought it a little odd that Nacho lived in a fishing shack with the usual no running water or electricity but had an iPhone 6 and a brand new pick-up truck. I noticed it but thought nothing of it. <br />
<br />
However I began to put the pieces of the jigsaw together when at 3.19am the following morning I was woken in my tent to the sound of male voice and many flashing torches. I knew something dodgy was going on but stayed quiet and still in my tent. Although I'll never be sure I had a gut feeling that there was a deal going down in El Huerfanito that night involving the famous fish.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwkEUoZmVeebSF-ml6pTPTUW353-EGhH6xilPg8rMpjn4QJ7ZqUPf6zHOthlFVnBQ38CeNe0pt9RqWwsCjQE4I4ULfnrNPa1PYf_q7rup_aJukY1a2DQM75nvtHl1NgTylvh-1opJtErR/s1600/IMG_6824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwkEUoZmVeebSF-ml6pTPTUW353-EGhH6xilPg8rMpjn4QJ7ZqUPf6zHOthlFVnBQ38CeNe0pt9RqWwsCjQE4I4ULfnrNPa1PYf_q7rup_aJukY1a2DQM75nvtHl1NgTylvh-1opJtErR/s320/IMG_6824.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise in El Huerfanito. My 5* hotel included the commonly seen<br />
car seat converted into a comfy armchair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Ronnie's road sign</b><br />
A highlight of this part of the ride down the East coast was when I came across this sign at kilometre 133. I had met a guy who was fixing his car on the roadside a couple of days earlier. We chatted, his name was Ronnie. He said that I was more than welcome to pitch my tent at his house a couple of hundred kms up the road if I needed somewhere to stay.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPRBQBoL8NfPxj4JokUGwLMbEAfQzgCiYSYwtlC1kXSRA7emVhavMMYUtX7B79nMB2EiKdx-O8mS_iP_W_uUI3BLTfUAfemUQKPSncFzg2H2Tbfet9tS9exBN_OGw68PnOZQ0NtaZBTw2/s1600/IMG_6838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPRBQBoL8NfPxj4JokUGwLMbEAfQzgCiYSYwtlC1kXSRA7emVhavMMYUtX7B79nMB2EiKdx-O8mS_iP_W_uUI3BLTfUAfemUQKPSncFzg2H2Tbfet9tS9exBN_OGw68PnOZQ0NtaZBTw2/s320/IMG_6838.JPG" width="183" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cardboard sign stuck to KM 133 road marker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArAv5L3WKduz9uBc8115a-cK35X715uo0uwXjDCo22y6TBNwOmnR_YbGpvvSB-_W2ixJg9WPsznesftWPa9DsB83dggKL4jvq6b4MrHiWo0IJFP_Ids4GuwvEZkFCQDzCHj0CbESHdpPm/s1600/IMG_6837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArAv5L3WKduz9uBc8115a-cK35X715uo0uwXjDCo22y6TBNwOmnR_YbGpvvSB-_W2ixJg9WPsznesftWPa9DsB83dggKL4jvq6b4MrHiWo0IJFP_Ids4GuwvEZkFCQDzCHj0CbESHdpPm/s320/IMG_6837.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ronnie's cardboard sign.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The sign reads 'Ireland to Panama 2017, one more mile to the beach for a deserved rest, Ronnie' and the picture of a shamrock. He had forgotten my name. He had stuck this cardboard note to the signpost with steel cable ties. Very professional. It was only 11am when I passed this sign on this particular day, so it didn't suit to stay the night. But I did call in. I had a shower, topped up my water, was given 1L of cold mango juice, a mug of coffee and two tasty grilled chicken sambos. The road providing yet again.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbU22CSUExN6ZmDn8eDFIkqRpVsZizvJwzmpfjO_1UP5T_e_q4VI9H19onm8tL2MeG1yGTdBjCRoDv_sPmSm13DOCYtVT6y5sa-6syZxIacmCgALi0Z2wdbVWnenTWsIqg5i_6Yu4rAsaY/s1600/IMG_6844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbU22CSUExN6ZmDn8eDFIkqRpVsZizvJwzmpfjO_1UP5T_e_q4VI9H19onm8tL2MeG1yGTdBjCRoDv_sPmSm13DOCYtVT6y5sa-6syZxIacmCgALi0Z2wdbVWnenTWsIqg5i_6Yu4rAsaY/s320/IMG_6844.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Ronnie sweeping sand from the porch of his beautiful seaside residence.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br />Some accommodation stats on the trip so far:</b><br />
Total number of nights of this trip: 122<br />
Total number of nights I have paid for accommodation: 31 (28%)<br />
Nights spent in Sweeny Green: 51 (46%)<br />
Nights when I have been offered a free bed (inc. with Vancouver Hardiman family): 21 (19%)<br />
Nights in a motel/hotel/hostel: 11 (10%)<br />
Nights with a warm showers host: 29 (26%)<br />
<br />
<b>Highlights</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>generally camping behind random restaurants along the way. Poor Mexicans with very little offer the cyclist everything they have. Very humbling.</li>
<li>seeing Ronnie's message stuck to a sign post</li>
<li>fish tacos</li>
<li>finding a cheap hotel in a tiny village high up in the mountains after 24 hours of pouring rain</li>
<li>doing 35kms per hour for two days straight with ferocious tailwinds</li>
<li>cycling through the desert</li>
</ul>
<b>Lowlights</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>getting hit by the wing mirror of a pick-up truck on Mex 3 in the mountains between Ensenada and San Felipe. Ouch. My left arm was black and blue for a week.</li>
<li>endless boring flat road with only sand to look at as far as the eye can see</li>
<li>general lack of other cyclists</li>
<li>cycling through the god damn desert</li>
</ul>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-69036187846558363562016-12-14T21:25:00.001-08:002016-12-16T17:51:02.046-08:00Yosemite National Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Take I</b><br />
<br />
Yosemite is one of the most beautiful places in the world I have ever been. Now as I write (I'm in Mexico and it's Dec 13th, 2016) I have actually been to Yosemite twice. For my first trip I was so kindly offered a car by two cyclists - Herbie and Shannon - and just told to go, that I would love it. So I did as I was told. It was a six hour drive north of LA and my first time driving in the US. I was a little apprehensive setting off but quickly got the hang of it. I will forever be grateful for the loan of my very own Toyota Corolla.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fWQZP8KmGwv_lm_r7plvOS6UY8-g2j1pP9Hq5M5tHqJMywGssgvtARqeSiRuPtnOMrIXgy5U2nfCMCpLhsQz_ZT9RignaqFMl0RwmtZdKNzLylHFPf693H9Cv_tzLZephqpt2s8GpAMX/s1600/IMG_5811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fWQZP8KmGwv_lm_r7plvOS6UY8-g2j1pP9Hq5M5tHqJMywGssgvtARqeSiRuPtnOMrIXgy5U2nfCMCpLhsQz_ZT9RignaqFMl0RwmtZdKNzLylHFPf693H9Cv_tzLZephqpt2s8GpAMX/s320/IMG_5811.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise and sunset are particularly spectacular.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGhjLW9lOdfyQmI7oeG8o2lzH9Y2uOGe0FkCUEPyimsEhyphenhyphenvOAa7dA18mLR4xi7M14j1YXq_uiBtaNWOWH55a1HrXeFspVHxXsI2vYtgh1TNLiFMiRBQNQuaQvznGBxqlQcLbtONGodRGK/s1600/IMG_5801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGhjLW9lOdfyQmI7oeG8o2lzH9Y2uOGe0FkCUEPyimsEhyphenhyphenvOAa7dA18mLR4xi7M14j1YXq_uiBtaNWOWH55a1HrXeFspVHxXsI2vYtgh1TNLiFMiRBQNQuaQvznGBxqlQcLbtONGodRGK/s320/IMG_5801.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The merced river flows through Yosemite valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5wejN9n26UDUKHoFMIw64ZVc6Mfwm8btFD4mswJ1vVbvyZd4ZtOVZEaTYbZz9Ws-PkBA1SoX_o1INJN3DGgYJmo1DKuRJv_cvkR24JHxsJI_H2ydPt87iu_K1JKgMdLsC5QtsdlsLdhl/s1600/IMG_5813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5wejN9n26UDUKHoFMIw64ZVc6Mfwm8btFD4mswJ1vVbvyZd4ZtOVZEaTYbZz9Ws-PkBA1SoX_o1INJN3DGgYJmo1DKuRJv_cvkR24JHxsJI_H2ydPt87iu_K1JKgMdLsC5QtsdlsLdhl/s320/IMG_5813.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous Half Dome</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfphE7ZP1lcfoAOTIdIc7YyODcU0GS-WBJ_fatFfVEQ5zVYeIlvhDSylRedf52JVhCnzOf-gGfbgJudTYKBSqOC7FvP-apOHOFtS1LIe2P78DvmAVrEb87fjW36-lIKByECqfhF3p4YlV/s1600/IMG_5786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfphE7ZP1lcfoAOTIdIc7YyODcU0GS-WBJ_fatFfVEQ5zVYeIlvhDSylRedf52JVhCnzOf-gGfbgJudTYKBSqOC7FvP-apOHOFtS1LIe2P78DvmAVrEb87fjW36-lIKByECqfhF3p4YlV/s320/IMG_5786.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just hung out in the meadow at sunset on both days. Heaven.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaI_s7dGsc6t6Vz2r4C8qX5tHSFI1sbL7e8jsTfSP0DKJO_OudmLlpnQtZq8vV1Wx8TB1SnHu8ARzt4ASJmgEpQDqd4sACaO-tDqF_wyDEDM3nDUv9Lv1Cz53HcLJBeDiVM9Cfd7Fseqf/s1600/IMG_5780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaI_s7dGsc6t6Vz2r4C8qX5tHSFI1sbL7e8jsTfSP0DKJO_OudmLlpnQtZq8vV1Wx8TB1SnHu8ARzt4ASJmgEpQDqd4sACaO-tDqF_wyDEDM3nDUv9Lv1Cz53HcLJBeDiVM9Cfd7Fseqf/s320/IMG_5780.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campground 4 is open all year round. It costs $6 per night to camp. Bargain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub-P49n5jGu7Ek6EZVANQk2OSwQpSLElvVbf__MdwuT_PL5rLYyBPee0-uRzV9vahXj7_RAGWkAolt_jgBV9eZv2t-dnhLl7YAv8REXkpN8gzo2DbZE_h8ex75yy-LU_eeaIyxdn6ABKl/s1600/IMG_5827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub-P49n5jGu7Ek6EZVANQk2OSwQpSLElvVbf__MdwuT_PL5rLYyBPee0-uRzV9vahXj7_RAGWkAolt_jgBV9eZv2t-dnhLl7YAv8REXkpN8gzo2DbZE_h8ex75yy-LU_eeaIyxdn6ABKl/s320/IMG_5827.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pitching tents close together means you all share a campfire at night.<br />
What a treat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaMDEKDrdhXqysLmATyz0mjOZkqYcF02V8o0te8oqWfFSUpFQU1fuRD-SiwxRl-YsxD2CAA3t962GrKH-neOsU-5UAVB8HTDIDeLYS6iECkCCjIcn3PvkdpTTP8i8ChkWo7rQHI0U5KKR/s1600/IMG_5825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaMDEKDrdhXqysLmATyz0mjOZkqYcF02V8o0te8oqWfFSUpFQU1fuRD-SiwxRl-YsxD2CAA3t962GrKH-neOsU-5UAVB8HTDIDeLYS6iECkCCjIcn3PvkdpTTP8i8ChkWo7rQHI0U5KKR/s320/IMG_5825.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spontaneous sing-song round the campfire. This pic shows 4 pretty serious rock climbers.<br />
German, Canadian, American, Dutch.<br />
Yosemite is the Mecca for granite climbing. And campground 4 is where the rock climbers stay. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WsSeDnYnubSTNhFffrdvCqo_mNIeMyzgQp7_QxJnkaEvTjxEBo1zmmcZQwYaU4xtu1KO6I3vmi_rmOBNIZ3vzeF_Z9tVQbRnNGHZ4d69xXNsFnXEib9V2heABBqIK9O2kUtU32fY82Hu/s1600/IMG_5832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WsSeDnYnubSTNhFffrdvCqo_mNIeMyzgQp7_QxJnkaEvTjxEBo1zmmcZQwYaU4xtu1KO6I3vmi_rmOBNIZ3vzeF_Z9tVQbRnNGHZ4d69xXNsFnXEib9V2heABBqIK9O2kUtU32fY82Hu/s320/IMG_5832.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet again my porridge was stolen by a racoon. So breakfast meant left with left-over<br />
chick pea curry and spaghetti from the night before. A yummy <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aP6eXpwIths" target="_blank">Happy Pear </a>recipe.<br />
The Happy Pear 5 minute recipes are particularly good for camping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sXDUDw2pZ9_4fT874rI1V6cehit5BoqpozDlpWf-VAeZRa6cuCgIkS-XvnwuOPwQJdbM6uU6FiWkMUyNsLowTWnOXm_tWMx4W1aGXI4VapKXfLg6LFVRASTWmVOdTNVqLBmz3J2cSjyZ/s1600/IMG_5834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sXDUDw2pZ9_4fT874rI1V6cehit5BoqpozDlpWf-VAeZRa6cuCgIkS-XvnwuOPwQJdbM6uU6FiWkMUyNsLowTWnOXm_tWMx4W1aGXI4VapKXfLg6LFVRASTWmVOdTNVqLBmz3J2cSjyZ/s320/IMG_5834.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking up to Yosemite Falls. My legs ache for days after<br />
as I haven't walked anywhere for months.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThkzUyn2TqvbQNlsqHSwK2WXX0uEFjt4_FmOtQuGPH4ks7t2-4yAyva7xOdwxPznmw9mCnwBHEwsnjrTMux0DQ5Ouyuf67Jvga21pvewm0-tonzQyS2y897I01i60oNAJC10LDv5qwlj5/s1600/IMG_5873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThkzUyn2TqvbQNlsqHSwK2WXX0uEFjt4_FmOtQuGPH4ks7t2-4yAyva7xOdwxPznmw9mCnwBHEwsnjrTMux0DQ5Ouyuf67Jvga21pvewm0-tonzQyS2y897I01i60oNAJC10LDv5qwlj5/s320/IMG_5873.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As I left before sunrise I stepped over several bodies in sleeping bags.<br />
They had arrived overnight and were waiting to register at campground 4.</td></tr>
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<b>Take II</b><br />
<br />
For the last few days of Leann's two week holiday we decided to rent a car and head north since Yosemite was only a ten hour drive away from San Diego. Although it was only three weeks after my first visit the conditions could not have been more different. Whereas I was in shorts and t-shirts applying sun cream, three weeks later with Leann we were trudging through snow and stepping carefully on restricted and blocked trails over ice. Oops. A bit of planning and research might have come in handy. Sorry Leann.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDN5Y-yyHC-0e3fCHsReWKbJnfZzbeZMoGdg41URcfqHJcFOQllSGDQuwtUff51i_QVXnX77oArVmg89pvPmRlBl0oBjfEOUgaw_coHqGxLAVNArsnJyyo6WylD07gThh3MpRlV8D7i4-m/s1600/IMG_6382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDN5Y-yyHC-0e3fCHsReWKbJnfZzbeZMoGdg41URcfqHJcFOQllSGDQuwtUff51i_QVXnX77oArVmg89pvPmRlBl0oBjfEOUgaw_coHqGxLAVNArsnJyyo6WylD07gThh3MpRlV8D7i4-m/s320/IMG_6382.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hike up to Vernal Falls takes a while as we step carefully on the ice.</td></tr>
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But we made the most of our time in Yosemite. As you do. After almost 12 hours of driving we pitched our tent in the dark, in the rain. The following morning after 10 hours of gorgeous deep sleep we woke in a puddle. We tried to cook our porridge... but cooking with layers of thick gloves is difficult. Washing pots in freezing water is even worse. We went to the visitors centre and found that although most trails and roads were closed, a few remained open. So off we went. Six hard boiled eggs tucked snugly in our hiking backpack.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_uPPEGMYNNkYp7l_NTQP-7kuuVDgy2yQs-Yc1ulQ4br7V2TiQf1wMcz2OHjZC4PZAqsVIGxOa4Fuq6nllrpw5hklnkkiYGVzTIz0OaCdsxqffZ1l2bEEYxZFpii1SDaZhvvWomG-aHcy/s1600/IMG_6362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_uPPEGMYNNkYp7l_NTQP-7kuuVDgy2yQs-Yc1ulQ4br7V2TiQf1wMcz2OHjZC4PZAqsVIGxOa4Fuq6nllrpw5hklnkkiYGVzTIz0OaCdsxqffZ1l2bEEYxZFpii1SDaZhvvWomG-aHcy/s320/IMG_6362.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking with all our layers on - we still aren't very warm.</td></tr>
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</div>
It was a very long shot. But three weeks earlier I had met a retired American working in the visitor centre. We chatted about cycling and he just happened to mention if I ever returned to Yosemite, to get in touch as I could stay in his cousin's cabin. I never gave it a second thought as I never for a moment thought I was going to return. So I threw away the piece of paper with his mobile number. His name was Don. Well three weeks and one very wet tent later I went looking for Don. And voila. As if by magic I found him and he said we could stay in his cabin no problem. What a piece of luck. Landing on our feet yet again. One night we even had a campfire on the deck and roasted carrots with honey in tinfoil.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwQ4aKPZZzEVpN-Bc7La4K1Bcl5H42EsLdpz7PW4LqF3I8SoVZtlWKkeZ_Q2kmrYA_aLGRBGxP6fvwljKvvKxEDBifAi23Xa_2ZH4X0ixaEKfPZa9SaSK9_xdntZ2UUqQvZ5IySZRJ14k/s1600/IMG_6410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwQ4aKPZZzEVpN-Bc7La4K1Bcl5H42EsLdpz7PW4LqF3I8SoVZtlWKkeZ_Q2kmrYA_aLGRBGxP6fvwljKvvKxEDBifAi23Xa_2ZH4X0ixaEKfPZa9SaSK9_xdntZ2UUqQvZ5IySZRJ14k/s320/IMG_6410.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don's cousin's cabin was a haven during 3 cold and wet<br />
days in Yosemite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeX-pUe731U7sG1bHvECNL11iToEimNsokM1N75VHE00eCMxdECy4p_fXOdyI_At81UWJXo_mbczQiD9b9Zgt9ybUKn5bdbwuGvi3lNHNR1iV0grA3jf7Lhdd-EmXssl1V2PWH4GNQt3v/s1600/IMG_6426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeX-pUe731U7sG1bHvECNL11iToEimNsokM1N75VHE00eCMxdECy4p_fXOdyI_At81UWJXo_mbczQiD9b9Zgt9ybUKn5bdbwuGvi3lNHNR1iV0grA3jf7Lhdd-EmXssl1V2PWH4GNQt3v/s320/IMG_6426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey glazed carrots baking in the campfire on the cabin deck on our last <br />
night in Yosemite. <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">We borrowed a few logs from the neighbour's garden.</span><br />
It's low season. No one was home. Honest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-84692540547800929082016-12-14T19:29:00.001-08:002016-12-29T18:33:03.356-08:00LA to Ensenada, Mexico<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Where do you start when you haven't written anything in six weeks, and so much has happened every day that you can't order your thoughts at all at all. I'll start with a map.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqqO4uKdD-KeNEouX0h7PKd9hbQKUf24gKVJr8_J9m7fvF3qLxVBJk9MohRJGJR3Ke31IDnY3XAVCviMSYKxrvROw9UJfK3mFNLRWIRkXa0oVOPN5mTlmdnumXsOPK08sUhgiK4mE5G7H/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-12-14+at+15.58.45.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqqO4uKdD-KeNEouX0h7PKd9hbQKUf24gKVJr8_J9m7fvF3qLxVBJk9MohRJGJR3Ke31IDnY3XAVCviMSYKxrvROw9UJfK3mFNLRWIRkXa0oVOPN5mTlmdnumXsOPK08sUhgiK4mE5G7H/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-12-14+at+15.58.45.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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I knew my friend Leann would be arriving into LA on Nov 25th 2016. I had a couple of weeks to spare so amongst other things ended up at <a href="http://deerparkmonastery.org/deer-park-monastery/" target="_blank">this</a> Buddhist monastery in Escondido outside San Diego. I'll talk about that again. This post is about our trip from LA to Ensenada, Mexico.</div>
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I joined Leann in Anglesey, Wales this summer (2016) on her annual family camping trip and in a moment of madness around the campfire after a couple of glasses of vino Leann said she might join me on my cycle. She hoped her mother-in-law might help out with the kids. Her hubby Tom agreed it sounded like a great idea. And so voila - on Nov 25th there I found her, hiding behind her bike box in LAX airport arrivals. </div>
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I had arranged for us to stay at a Warm Showers house on Leann's first night in LA. As the hosts already had cyclists staying, they kindly built up their own tent in their garden for us to use so that we didn't have to build our own tent at 10pm. We ordered an UberXL (big one to fit the bike box) from the airpot. My first Uber experience. What a great app. I'm a fan.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQw22hCf0IbbLBDOk5YRbCzC-9ZHtyMugyaduizSNLU5BtjW4tS2Iws1yT2B4ZudLX7ma5zpEHQMdaN7SkyZw_r2UbQlnuvxNrx5oz9Fs393DJ8-TCQ-NhXUkQDba5gjKhjbZAlTJeDTcR/s1600/IMG_6044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQw22hCf0IbbLBDOk5YRbCzC-9ZHtyMugyaduizSNLU5BtjW4tS2Iws1yT2B4ZudLX7ma5zpEHQMdaN7SkyZw_r2UbQlnuvxNrx5oz9Fs393DJ8-TCQ-NhXUkQDba5gjKhjbZAlTJeDTcR/s320/IMG_6044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leann - crazy lady (and mum of 3, including 8 month old Freddie) holds aloft the famous<br />
Pacific Coast sign outside one of the best Warm Showers host houses on the west coast.</td></tr>
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Myself and Leann met in Chile in 2004 and cycled together for a month or so. Getting back on the bike together was really special. As if we just picked up where we left off 12 years previously. I was so delighted that she made it. What a blast!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J374npw1DwE/WFDbo5GmsuI/AAAAAAAAN5w/XJrGQCknXCIt4WQT41efgIPkLnjtr-RFgCPcB/s1600/IMG_6063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J374npw1DwE/WFDbo5GmsuI/AAAAAAAAN5w/XJrGQCknXCIt4WQT41efgIPkLnjtr-RFgCPcB/s320/IMG_6063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leann's first breakfast in the US. First came the apples, then the cinamon, then the porridge,<br />
then the honey, then the raisins. A feast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4vLncjlAih3b-PIhWl_Gmme6cI3qJZbWYOvz4DhvwKeM3_jJE7V10pooL99pHcbiprP9Fn5MkdHEZcQ-afB981WFVYUy7KgikjM2V724j6atuRfDCXQqhZoani5Cj41iZmsoaqSu_mu-/s1600/IMG_6061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4vLncjlAih3b-PIhWl_Gmme6cI3qJZbWYOvz4DhvwKeM3_jJE7V10pooL99pHcbiprP9Fn5MkdHEZcQ-afB981WFVYUy7KgikjM2V724j6atuRfDCXQqhZoani5Cj41iZmsoaqSu_mu-/s320/IMG_6061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back on the road together after 12 years.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vDusXqpdvOFlCX3EL7HHQGv-lWRq3R7tyCXleaSRnfhevlxtIiM3VHODuigLAQchn5_3ZNIC85BP0AFLvtntuFOTAO_Y-8j1PNW1f10QsrLR-3-qxsJML-PtWyY7UZhQrPJZmKWBP00I/s1600/IMG_6082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vDusXqpdvOFlCX3EL7HHQGv-lWRq3R7tyCXleaSRnfhevlxtIiM3VHODuigLAQchn5_3ZNIC85BP0AFLvtntuFOTAO_Y-8j1PNW1f10QsrLR-3-qxsJML-PtWyY7UZhQrPJZmKWBP00I/s320/IMG_6082.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A down jacket needed for breakfast on the beach at 8am.<br />
(after escaping from a campsite without paying)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbq38_BN-8j7frVuUrxmijbXYZIdVGpvgr_BUaFcldhVdgFXkMdZSUInwqF4pRqaJ5B90o0dAUnh6DQH_WDc8pHj7VxOa9Dw66s8Wy3awWay4MP7DvBVJQpbNM-RFc2m64MfvJWzgFBHm/s1600/IMG_6087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbq38_BN-8j7frVuUrxmijbXYZIdVGpvgr_BUaFcldhVdgFXkMdZSUInwqF4pRqaJ5B90o0dAUnh6DQH_WDc8pHj7VxOa9Dw66s8Wy3awWay4MP7DvBVJQpbNM-RFc2m64MfvJWzgFBHm/s320/IMG_6087.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Two tea-aholics chatted happily in the kitchen in San Diego over a cuppa. Linda and Tom weren't even on the Warm Showers database... they just happened to cycle with a guy called Ron who happened to know someone who knew Jill who I had stayed with in Santa Barbara. Five minutes after this picture was taken, they offered us (along with dinner of macaroni and cheese) two free passes to San Diego zoo. And such is life without a plan that when two zoo tickets come your way you happily say 'yes please, and thank you'.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8RVUcbTssbRIWrCcFR3nYL_emqIoO6CBCLvvv4pyi73KyO1iiYoxmtqy8ESU1etpPoYq6ZpJsWjJgi2OlT2NYAUfP0Rug40NTuQGq_YpMY5XkeoSM0tYVUaJiAU6KYoompWLJCtR5G-Y/s1600/IMG_6128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8RVUcbTssbRIWrCcFR3nYL_emqIoO6CBCLvvv4pyi73KyO1iiYoxmtqy8ESU1etpPoYq6ZpJsWjJgi2OlT2NYAUfP0Rug40NTuQGq_YpMY5XkeoSM0tYVUaJiAU6KYoompWLJCtR5G-Y/s320/IMG_6128.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We picked fresh lemons from Tom and Linda's lemon tree for our journey to Mexico</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK3g7lTe9jA9JU6cJ4SAhIlr34WYYHqvVdJ0uKYtwR0LSWsiQYsriYVeE26F4gtW5XVpJ-5bzFstMYwOb_1cykjn5bjma-cNom6dpdEwDXrBCwkspYKTVhF7Y54dEgKDQCHiwrzXn17aS/s1600/IMG_6136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK3g7lTe9jA9JU6cJ4SAhIlr34WYYHqvVdJ0uKYtwR0LSWsiQYsriYVeE26F4gtW5XVpJ-5bzFstMYwOb_1cykjn5bjma-cNom6dpdEwDXrBCwkspYKTVhF7Y54dEgKDQCHiwrzXn17aS/s320/IMG_6136.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom climbs up on a ladder and picks 2 fresh<br />
pomegranates for us to take on our journey</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01MR_hIMzmTaTM3fbSs2EaoY61dbIonYi5gZo1zFnn5G_0GpK9FPUmP4WuxsTeS4DUlLins_zf8rFNQkI13hwTvdADFrG6RHdvML1ALXtAq7ATdX0ya-mduuWn_bBbWWkbA4CzL2yN4AA/s320/IMG_6071.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="304" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only in the US.</td></tr>
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San Ysidro and Tijuana, along with San Diego make up one big city on the US/Mexican border. After we had changed our last dollars into Mexican pesos and as were heading to buy our visas I spotted a guy waving madly at us. He was running towards us saying 'hey, did we meet on the boat from Victoria (Vancouver Island) to Port Angeles a few months ago?'. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01MR_hIMzmTaTM3fbSs2EaoY61dbIonYi5gZo1zFnn5G_0GpK9FPUmP4WuxsTeS4DUlLins_zf8rFNQkI13hwTvdADFrG6RHdvML1ALXtAq7ATdX0ya-mduuWn_bBbWWkbA4CzL2yN4AA/s1600/IMG_6071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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When I looked carefully I recognised the three Canadian cyclists. We had met almost exactly three months earlier on a ferry on my first proper day cycling on this trip. They recognised my bright green Ortlieb front panniers. God bless their eyesight... and memory. We had cycled more or less the same route over three months and just happened to start on the very same day and finish at the very same time on the very same day. It's such a small world. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOTTkicawL3BaTOAqJnbW_GSDKsVS_9rbLUseuJNiYWIZu7nWAQVLzeAl7zm1GteNP9us57W06zh0v-pyHZpGJavqK8Ci-FqDNnGOgeeMuB0k4bWTWIOJTK-01oxoHYimboWL8-hhXnF6/s1600/IMG_6173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOTTkicawL3BaTOAqJnbW_GSDKsVS_9rbLUseuJNiYWIZu7nWAQVLzeAl7zm1GteNP9us57W06zh0v-pyHZpGJavqK8Ci-FqDNnGOgeeMuB0k4bWTWIOJTK-01oxoHYimboWL8-hhXnF6/s320/IMG_6173.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bumped into 3 Canadian guys at the Mexican border. <br />
I had met them on a ferry three months previously.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWey_wlUgPopyw8o6YBuZJsdYXCYAW4l-Cc247JkOFX567c_zgBW_orxNTIiUlivjKnwrZ6_rfWHK89oJx6MJKa89fTxVSLBOxZ3k3JEmoZBNVIpjvxYqKfeybFs03X6RzH4ZnNX-_WYZ/s1600/IMG_6170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWey_wlUgPopyw8o6YBuZJsdYXCYAW4l-Cc247JkOFX567c_zgBW_orxNTIiUlivjKnwrZ6_rfWHK89oJx6MJKa89fTxVSLBOxZ3k3JEmoZBNVIpjvxYqKfeybFs03X6RzH4ZnNX-_WYZ/s320/IMG_6170.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delighted to be reaching Mexico. Let the real adventure begin.</td></tr>
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No sooner had we crossed the border into Tijuana than we ran into a little bit of trouble. Trouble in the form of a busy 6 lane highway at rush hour with no hard shoulder. God only knows how we ended up on it, but once we were on it, we couldn't get off. We climbed and climbed, me slow as a snail with my big heavy bike and 4 pannier bags. Leann like a gazelle on her skinny tyres. </div>
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We then descended on this noisy, dusty, pothole filled, scary motorway. At the first exit we headed for out. The exit led us to the town of Playas de Tijuana. Where on earth were we? And what the hell were we going to do if all roads in Mexico were like the one we just found ourselves on? </div>
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And no sooner had we got our thoughts back together than an angel called Luisa appeared and said hello and asked us if we were ok. Ten minutes later we were cycling behind Luisa's car to her house. She had offered that we pitch our tent in her garden. Ten minutes after that we were drinking tea with her family and eating delicious fresh Mexican pastries. What a welcome to Mexico!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09GUPSP27Umh1od9JV5wX2kxCz5K_Wmsl5bCTBn6NyXuK7G6-qPmKrrvU-Op-qjmSjvWW1OQn76MNiH5NMHm11lx8jL6HVcU0kHZRV21d_mLTI4jiWSvy0LzRRIgeHYv42GoOkN5TDl30/s1600/IMG_6203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09GUPSP27Umh1od9JV5wX2kxCz5K_Wmsl5bCTBn6NyXuK7G6-qPmKrrvU-Op-qjmSjvWW1OQn76MNiH5NMHm11lx8jL6HVcU0kHZRV21d_mLTI4jiWSvy0LzRRIgeHYv42GoOkN5TDl30/s320/IMG_6203.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luisa makes us the Mexican 'cafe de oya'.<br />
Coffee in a pot basically.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimonAT0b2XtrvksxhWjbkWpmYfliz4JiegSUfxVJQ5Okl3IzDIO5hdh54qu3RG6Og6W9txM_rUbLUEWyKAjJan1hKU1O_hCveggi_KRz1VD7YkkCkyw65cluKkNx7BanEDaX3p4XDoMkdM/s1600/IMG_6208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimonAT0b2XtrvksxhWjbkWpmYfliz4JiegSUfxVJQ5Okl3IzDIO5hdh54qu3RG6Og6W9txM_rUbLUEWyKAjJan1hKU1O_hCveggi_KRz1VD7YkkCkyw65cluKkNx7BanEDaX3p4XDoMkdM/s320/IMG_6208.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leann makes us all a fruit salad using the pomegranates<br />
from Tom and Linda's San Diego garden.</td></tr>
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After leaving Playas the Tijuana we headed off on the toll road called the 1D. We had been told that cyclists love it because it's the best paved road in the country AND it had a wide shoulder. Five minutes is all we lasted. The police showed up and kicked us off. So we had no option but to stick out our thumbs and hitch a lift. The first pick-up stopped and took us to a section of the road where we could exit off the motorway. Schade - as they say in German.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5GU8oPHNsLJwFPHnpVVMPtpWKKcgsNCaKRU8cptdkYxKy9KLi8hrWatBSJLlga0DYGk4bh26FcoEerOwg8-A7UT1v9POuur6HRRbFUDCWYzdDd-h8ZM5NTwLR_6YtnH1onJR8yoftXSp/s1600/IMG_6216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5GU8oPHNsLJwFPHnpVVMPtpWKKcgsNCaKRU8cptdkYxKy9KLi8hrWatBSJLlga0DYGk4bh26FcoEerOwg8-A7UT1v9POuur6HRRbFUDCWYzdDd-h8ZM5NTwLR_6YtnH1onJR8yoftXSp/s320/IMG_6216.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saved on the toll road by a kind (and very handsome) <br />
man in a pick-up truck.</td></tr>
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We had an interesting Warm Showers experience that night. Ian allowed cyclists to stay in the basement of what used to be a youth hostel. On this particular night we shared his huge but slightly messy basement with a Canadian couple. Two tents and four bikes fitted easily in the shabby basement. There was a working light bulb, a loo and a plug socket. All a bicycle tourer needs.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnMgKMxuVi8/WFCCTS1tnMI/AAAAAAAAN2Q/x61QG-x331E8WXKxo75jxBqBby5MR5nIACPcB/s1600/IMG_6233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnMgKMxuVi8/WFCCTS1tnMI/AAAAAAAAN2Q/x61QG-x331E8WXKxo75jxBqBby5MR5nIACPcB/s320/IMG_6233.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leann inside Sweeny Green in Ian's basement.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVnxnZGqCRhcqOeVP5Q9hCdQ3cd94ilaUYiKuSaJiMxwPjSnIznnprizU71nzEqyYPoaIiFqG65T8c3UxC2Ke3A0IEaHVDuyOfVcNgTu_6-394iWuuCwE4vFotrRy_i5RFP8KEgV-m6mk/s1600/IMG_6236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVnxnZGqCRhcqOeVP5Q9hCdQ3cd94ilaUYiKuSaJiMxwPjSnIznnprizU71nzEqyYPoaIiFqG65T8c3UxC2Ke3A0IEaHVDuyOfVcNgTu_6-394iWuuCwE4vFotrRy_i5RFP8KEgV-m6mk/s320/IMG_6236.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The free basement camp spot came with a beach front table and chairs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLDmPLoXLXEZKd2dqI1mluggqh06JOSOayn_xbhiVKeAMm6gsc1ZVvNc_7ngn4AgEAE_sLSgU1LL9SDqkr-wcdkALe3eXuJWsYhDoQk84KEQ4QiwWiIrYErMcnFin8ktu2yolaCG0LWFg/s1600/IMG_6278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLDmPLoXLXEZKd2dqI1mluggqh06JOSOayn_xbhiVKeAMm6gsc1ZVvNc_7ngn4AgEAE_sLSgU1LL9SDqkr-wcdkALe3eXuJWsYhDoQk84KEQ4QiwWiIrYErMcnFin8ktu2yolaCG0LWFg/s320/IMG_6278.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Would you believe. We never managed to swim in the sea.<br />
We tried a couple of times but the waves were just too strong.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1U3YKbjpkuKc7qGcxjG3_tj60XPezv9JF1z6t46RbLDZCA_7uE8NHpvfYXNqsVjdCH5HCo6RidlCk2DxaADqBBALBfETPmmIhC-jFWgGrUrYoH0VstPQhXP5QUk6FRLdEQaTbmM2hYrUd/s1600/IMG_6272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1U3YKbjpkuKc7qGcxjG3_tj60XPezv9JF1z6t46RbLDZCA_7uE8NHpvfYXNqsVjdCH5HCo6RidlCk2DxaADqBBALBfETPmmIhC-jFWgGrUrYoH0VstPQhXP5QUk6FRLdEQaTbmM2hYrUd/s320/IMG_6272.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every Mexican city seems to have an enormous Mexican flag in the city centre.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1ZVK7OJLiEqaLZIXtoYDgsbpV6ZY2rfWUCAVAwkYM6kemKraHlZ3GXUa3kggveoct63i8LRKckF11dIIjYSh-23IkdWISqAS55ZNc7Z_mvA3rcsQ5crlCMu1J1tcpUBouOAB4GK9rxMr/s1600/IMG_6253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1ZVK7OJLiEqaLZIXtoYDgsbpV6ZY2rfWUCAVAwkYM6kemKraHlZ3GXUa3kggveoct63i8LRKckF11dIIjYSh-23IkdWISqAS55ZNc7Z_mvA3rcsQ5crlCMu1J1tcpUBouOAB4GK9rxMr/s320/IMG_6253.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first night in a hotel (a 20USD luxury) meant I had to hide <br />
in the bathroom while cooking porridge. Luckily no smoke alarms.</td></tr>
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South of Ensenada we decided to get off the main road and head out on a peninsula Google maps showed us, to see if we could find a quiet camp spot. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NGjU3i1TIhw6-cDDF44f8-mRtYHpeBIVQZChaSs2wmMdubg2wk1sG0TjBtkeV5CjhGb1fvgfH-KpUYFt1L7gwSwW0e5Z0tYhGR9PUId-pHt-2gmJorGREEAKQaJNKkYytEMJo2Tth8aI/s1600/IMG_6291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NGjU3i1TIhw6-cDDF44f8-mRtYHpeBIVQZChaSs2wmMdubg2wk1sG0TjBtkeV5CjhGb1fvgfH-KpUYFt1L7gwSwW0e5Z0tYhGR9PUId-pHt-2gmJorGREEAKQaJNKkYytEMJo2Tth8aI/s320/IMG_6291.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We eat our first tomales on the road to La Bufadora (the blow hole)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiER3BbAm3NvlzRchEJhXX7SpUrwE8jzWC1N57edX3e1-lefDeugKBWnqsUqjd608kaq1bxGUo5gWJpw7xO_mhatikzBDWKmi2ruTOWFM4EuKmBp3y78C2jIQ15BvYQ0estdcmu4McmZzvB/s1600/IMG_6286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiER3BbAm3NvlzRchEJhXX7SpUrwE8jzWC1N57edX3e1-lefDeugKBWnqsUqjd608kaq1bxGUo5gWJpw7xO_mhatikzBDWKmi2ruTOWFM4EuKmBp3y78C2jIQ15BvYQ0estdcmu4McmZzvB/s320/IMG_6286.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The small tomales stalls all seems to sell olives and honey too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcI-zKBMqMxtsatRhAqS-ngO2Wzo7-7-DUWJyuyW7qcA1uILqfglY_Zexm__acvnTHtebe2L8G_PFFLNNB38R4efE6iYKsCKWMbFoOqjXkUftj-gnW9WLeebjdcTgB6rTLuklI5LUhYoH0/s1600/IMG_6294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcI-zKBMqMxtsatRhAqS-ngO2Wzo7-7-DUWJyuyW7qcA1uILqfglY_Zexm__acvnTHtebe2L8G_PFFLNNB38R4efE6iYKsCKWMbFoOqjXkUftj-gnW9WLeebjdcTgB6rTLuklI5LUhYoH0/s320/IMG_6294.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leann shows these Mexican kids pictures of her own children <br />
back in Manchester. Everyone had the same comment 'they are so white'.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaJF75gofnjY6mVMhy-cRfRoyH4XP1GOj5rJpk47kLQ2I7Y-Hm0DCmgGDy1iVah0dy-NTf7nKbdjaFKsNP807Y3f5XsTRrRrxSNJTXjXui3bLy7U6qFlNzm0HVMwKRSJauEIjSJy72GXK/s1600/IMG_6330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaJF75gofnjY6mVMhy-cRfRoyH4XP1GOj5rJpk47kLQ2I7Y-Hm0DCmgGDy1iVah0dy-NTf7nKbdjaFKsNP807Y3f5XsTRrRrxSNJTXjXui3bLy7U6qFlNzm0HVMwKRSJauEIjSJy72GXK/s320/IMG_6330.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gorgeous wild camp spot on the ocean. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJYrx08gBDbB_JI4Slh2Dg7VIDT9UgIOHuX4dmP07dSsEAT64fY2AlhZtc9gkx6x8egViXr6YqECHWTzNgCudfnH_Oc5C4NsHvzKmIna7tR60oKgrGgT-_PpAyqSzFTa2XMks_L5MMEkU/s1600/IMG_6327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJYrx08gBDbB_JI4Slh2Dg7VIDT9UgIOHuX4dmP07dSsEAT64fY2AlhZtc9gkx6x8egViXr6YqECHWTzNgCudfnH_Oc5C4NsHvzKmIna7tR60oKgrGgT-_PpAyqSzFTa2XMks_L5MMEkU/s320/IMG_6327.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little did we know but our 2 bikes behind us had a puncture each.<br />
Note to self - watch out for thorny camp spots.</td></tr>
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The night before this picture was taken we had popped into the local pub in La Bufadora, as you do. We asked some locals if there was a restaurant open for breakfast. On Mondays everything in this particular town is shut so an American couple we spoke to offered to collect us from our camp spot and take us to their house for breakfast. Richard appeared the following morning at 8am in his pick-up - there is always a pick-up involved - and brought us home for eggs, bacon, fried spuds and heaps of fresh fruit. Yum.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3Nbb64RtsgLiRlMkzWoeZtXaK6Ll_NP9f_69OqSCAjzZePEbak8b8JcVP_sw5wiAF8BhCsvj_u69JJkgLfDdm0p18SaBeHDmOurKX_9tm2VLY8gNgSMKY0OsEeiaw1SHHrmHGp1PSbcR/s1600/IMG_6339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3Nbb64RtsgLiRlMkzWoeZtXaK6Ll_NP9f_69OqSCAjzZePEbak8b8JcVP_sw5wiAF8BhCsvj_u69JJkgLfDdm0p18SaBeHDmOurKX_9tm2VLY8gNgSMKY0OsEeiaw1SHHrmHGp1PSbcR/s320/IMG_6339.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lady spends her day collecting tortillas which fall off the conveyor belt<br />
and packs them in piles of 12 to sell.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After spending the morning changing and patching inner tubes we headed south. The highlight of the day was a Tortilleria we came across. Basically a little shop/factory making and selling corn tortillas. We walked in and the owner's son gave us a tour and showed us how the Mexican staple was made. We left with a big bag of warm fresh corn tortillas.<br />
<br />
<b>Highlights</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>warm showers hosts - as always</li>
<li>arriving into Mexico and being offered a place to pitch our tent in someones back garden within about one hour of being in the country</li>
<li>Leann's cooking</li>
<li>drinking beer for the first time since Vancouver</li>
<li>staying in my first hotel of the trip</li>
<li>learning that you can listen to Google Map directions on your headphones while you cycle</li>
<li>singing random songs with your friend at the top of your voice as you cycle along</li>
<li>getting back into the habit of boiling 12 hard boiled eggs </li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Lowlights</b></div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>getting a puncture each on the same day after wild camping in a thorny camp spot</li>
<li>me pinching the brand new inner tube in Leann's bike, then having to repair the old tube with multiple patches</li>
<li>it rains for the first three days of Leann arriving in the US, we sleep in a wet soggy tent</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<b>Reading</b></div>
<div>
All the light we cannot see by Anthony Doerr</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-25111073660575554302016-12-13T19:59:00.000-08:002016-12-14T20:04:26.676-08:00Los Angeles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>The Election</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HCGoXE9lsc2v-lafCYnht9zFtKfPR6WKPABvSICbE68fKaqYRPS_yhqR3-_1TwZdkkVNA23fI32cVEyg4Ab-3txfSjqiZ8kLIBUxahZFONXFMhgWLEuixzchHDUWTtH492tTkJx2jaMg/s1600/IMG_5704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HCGoXE9lsc2v-lafCYnht9zFtKfPR6WKPABvSICbE68fKaqYRPS_yhqR3-_1TwZdkkVNA23fI32cVEyg4Ab-3txfSjqiZ8kLIBUxahZFONXFMhgWLEuixzchHDUWTtH492tTkJx2jaMg/s320/IMG_5704.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I arrived in LA on election day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILM9jQOeh1pqBK7WLk7yOXRvhxwS_0419p4AYD4sq1B2Q8Gb3pvTc2Un_5qdVjCTeS-uC8FyjjETIcsPAyfOzSbKfBZ13jk0PodYY1OIRImzzaNyP9HBqGlVxdwXFsEweR6lumi7AA0ms/s1600/IMG_5706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILM9jQOeh1pqBK7WLk7yOXRvhxwS_0419p4AYD4sq1B2Q8Gb3pvTc2Un_5qdVjCTeS-uC8FyjjETIcsPAyfOzSbKfBZ13jk0PodYY1OIRImzzaNyP9HBqGlVxdwXFsEweR6lumi7AA0ms/s320/IMG_5706.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Californians voting for Hillary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Herbie and Shannon kindly invited me to their apartment in LA to watch the election results come in. What started as a lovely gathering of friends gradually turned to a silent room of disbelief. I felt so sorry for them. They were all really devastated by the result. I guess I had expected the result. Having lived through Brexit where I didn't known any person who knew any person who voted for 'out'. It was kind of the same here. None of the 18 Warm Showers houses I stayed in since leaving Vancouver were Trump voters. None of the hundreds of cyclists who I camped with and chatted to all the way down the coast were voting for Trump and yet somewhere everyone was voting for Trump.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_SWYjDoRbM-unyt4kz9eYpwJV3pt83fyA-THRQUY1sKXN3UKYlwL5d8FWUclVsv84Y3TIFLWJDBxpRNoiT7L-2f6i5faMXJ_btNGKwhUSgTXHUNuZGSTQhJ2EyuDT-rXKD4qucrbmoDu/s1600/IMG_5750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_SWYjDoRbM-unyt4kz9eYpwJV3pt83fyA-THRQUY1sKXN3UKYlwL5d8FWUclVsv84Y3TIFLWJDBxpRNoiT7L-2f6i5faMXJ_btNGKwhUSgTXHUNuZGSTQhJ2EyuDT-rXKD4qucrbmoDu/s320/IMG_5750.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herbie, Shannon and friends are pretty distraught watching the <br />
results come in election night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Cycling through LA</b><br />
It seems like anything goes in California. People are relaxed, the sun shines every day. You can drive any type of car, wear any type of clothes and noone bats an eyelid. Venice beach sums it all up. Miles and miles of ocean enjoyed by surfers, skaters, bikers, hippies, tourist, homeless, outdoor gym junkies.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevtnH0YPBk43NiN0t7MZgOWt7WraZ8ksHhYdq2ygYP-x5f_W99Eyx-sics4wt7SF_jbqYoecRsXTIjMbJcQVXN3j3rwQVdPdF6UV3KLWJMNqLuLeHOYk0GeF_sb9rsyo5D1A1JgJafu6R/s1600/IMG_5729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevtnH0YPBk43NiN0t7MZgOWt7WraZ8ksHhYdq2ygYP-x5f_W99Eyx-sics4wt7SF_jbqYoecRsXTIjMbJcQVXN3j3rwQVdPdF6UV3KLWJMNqLuLeHOYk0GeF_sb9rsyo5D1A1JgJafu6R/s320/IMG_5729.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Venice Beach skateboard park. Skating with earphones the norm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was delighted when my random bike route through LA passed through the suburb of Compton. I don't know if it sounds familiar but it's where the Williams sisters (tennis players) grew up. It's a poor, mainly black suburb. I was watching out but didn't see any future tennis stars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvVhAYUdJSkkKqzqPjhCGqvhtFCLcCGE9m3boOhGIrT1sDcT7js3JZW7c6LSkKDcpyMA132HwExidKK3HXgG4kiIFvk55GdhZMExiUaOjan3F7wYr8Qfw1Ug1Y9CKuikZ2lTKL5t4cL98/s1600/IMG_5896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvVhAYUdJSkkKqzqPjhCGqvhtFCLcCGE9m3boOhGIrT1sDcT7js3JZW7c6LSkKDcpyMA132HwExidKK3HXgG4kiIFvk55GdhZMExiUaOjan3F7wYr8Qfw1Ug1Y9CKuikZ2lTKL5t4cL98/s320/IMG_5896.JPG" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Compton - a pretty tough neighbourhood in LA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Ken's house in Long Beach</b><br />
<div>
I had met Len from LA somewhere in North California and had cycled together for a couple of days. He is the guy who likes putting chili on his apples. Len put me in touch with his friend Ken who lives in Long Beach just south of LA. Ken is one of the original Warm Showers hosts and does a heap of voluntary work for the community as a board member. He hosts multiple cyclists on any given day or week. His partner Kenny is a great cook and just loves having people to cook for. Hungry cyclists make grateful recipients. <b><br /></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCduG5pbAR9CV9UNYZDbdc4mrzwicLdKvQ2Tpa-CfWsYbGTbW_mBkr7VsFWFB0TtK4KuEYoOGMR7AHTJetvxFg8J_NQpeplxENhxKvLtuMjwPCg09GnR5dJ4fCBskKwfGsFRmpOYbcivG/s1600/ken2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCduG5pbAR9CV9UNYZDbdc4mrzwicLdKvQ2Tpa-CfWsYbGTbW_mBkr7VsFWFB0TtK4KuEYoOGMR7AHTJetvxFg8J_NQpeplxENhxKvLtuMjwPCg09GnR5dJ4fCBskKwfGsFRmpOYbcivG/s320/ken2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken and Len take me to In and Out Burger after some kayaking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSWw_J_W1IRfsRzjAOoZ4t583UzPA8A71NAisQIff1HZ7YM0Wagfdm1_2MMNX0J1jHVSdKLww7SkyiCxzlr216RgBhA9CRqp96koz0dzamk2P4oQQNk2_i9zBbvdr9EnBJYiDdaQR0exu/s1600/IMG_5901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSWw_J_W1IRfsRzjAOoZ4t583UzPA8A71NAisQIff1HZ7YM0Wagfdm1_2MMNX0J1jHVSdKLww7SkyiCxzlr216RgBhA9CRqp96koz0dzamk2P4oQQNk2_i9zBbvdr9EnBJYiDdaQR0exu/s320/IMG_5901.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Ken in Long Beach making me a margarita <br />
after a long day on the bike<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjP3YlpX1DhpI-zRaP43Jpj1iRG95rCTLLsjCKkvmXNgTk7FsMZXfGLta5xvWVRUM4IixhlqemAoSmhQhi3wYv3oUWC0pNz1ONv_uQI0NviBkdPE6TluhkYqPmZVm-hSfJp0nBXfceGDF/s1600/IMG_5917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjP3YlpX1DhpI-zRaP43Jpj1iRG95rCTLLsjCKkvmXNgTk7FsMZXfGLta5xvWVRUM4IixhlqemAoSmhQhi3wYv3oUWC0pNz1ONv_uQI0NviBkdPE6TluhkYqPmZVm-hSfJp0nBXfceGDF/s320/IMG_5917.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Ken making some beet pickled eggs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgyOly1reUxgDvXRWokQk0tkZac_puS_73dfhMRXyG-fu4EANpWDc-qX0xzm5JWAZ9lz_dpKoz55hFHXfg_BcrkEzFAVCfMe0GYxSsPJAQhEMp0DCFMQSCYWxGYSqTHyM013HZd_Xbseo/s1600/ken1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgyOly1reUxgDvXRWokQk0tkZac_puS_73dfhMRXyG-fu4EANpWDc-qX0xzm5JWAZ9lz_dpKoz55hFHXfg_BcrkEzFAVCfMe0GYxSsPJAQhEMp0DCFMQSCYWxGYSqTHyM013HZd_Xbseo/s320/ken1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Ken's house in Long Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiua9kcLxY8ZGz8jNy3baFovGr4T-6roUS65iHrqqfd3lGwt83tFFNyJNGi1A4V9V9c3SRI_VY6c9AN1CS7An5L90h9OZXYgHAhMJzy2Wgx1mnanwomHKTJy67B_omASmlvYwmmRZachqYC/s1600/At+Kens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiua9kcLxY8ZGz8jNy3baFovGr4T-6roUS65iHrqqfd3lGwt83tFFNyJNGi1A4V9V9c3SRI_VY6c9AN1CS7An5L90h9OZXYgHAhMJzy2Wgx1mnanwomHKTJy67B_omASmlvYwmmRZachqYC/s320/At+Kens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken has a good camera.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh634XIVhL3sH_7Ozz3sjIaicF4KWPNghyphenhyphenu1JEGPKL4I2748iJ_bAIim7WMaZ8LuVhroaMM66iEOaAjBsxAt-CRY9n0OqR40cbBon3JWgJEdYLc_yBopBQDUk8xST04M_8__Q_XpC4vTPas/s1600/leaving+Kens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh634XIVhL3sH_7Ozz3sjIaicF4KWPNghyphenhyphenu1JEGPKL4I2748iJ_bAIim7WMaZ8LuVhroaMM66iEOaAjBsxAt-CRY9n0OqR40cbBon3JWgJEdYLc_yBopBQDUk8xST04M_8__Q_XpC4vTPas/s320/leaving+Kens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Ken and Kenny's house in Long Beach, California</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-2522209893810534932016-11-16T07:42:00.002-08:002016-11-16T09:55:30.051-08:00Santa Barbara to LA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi325js6c1OTfNgGodS3dIStt3p2zHLYjW7pgt7SXpViOq_41wF_WI6DRbtmNEajVMp9NgqbrMsT998sa0wx3TtagkxgnyGc-YM93J8uG74-I5DkkkbSJShbTd-IzQkzQeXWhPB9UuDsWDA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-11-16+at+06.36.20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi325js6c1OTfNgGodS3dIStt3p2zHLYjW7pgt7SXpViOq_41wF_WI6DRbtmNEajVMp9NgqbrMsT998sa0wx3TtagkxgnyGc-YM93J8uG74-I5DkkkbSJShbTd-IzQkzQeXWhPB9UuDsWDA/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-11-16+at+06.36.20.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scores on the doors</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Some stats from the trip so far:</b><br />
Days on the road = 67<br />
Miles cycled = 1915 (3023kms)<br />
Number of nights where I have paid for accommodation = 10<br />
Number of nights spent camping = 27<br />
Number of nights spent with Warm Showers hosts = 19<br />
Number of punctures = still 2<br />
Total money spent = €859.61<br />
Average spend per day = €12.83<br />
<br />
<b>Santa Barbara and Jill's House</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Z2max-_o5OKIfUdby4Xtq_umH-JP-cUUabCI7MSJzCb1p1uBmr0H_RkWQ4I9ejA8JOepnH0UC9oNSQl3Vtw6jP8HhpXxe3xnGwqqb65EqJhs3P1KTJn64ZZR2KOCzw7zjtvXApQwNawz/s1600/IMG_5449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Z2max-_o5OKIfUdby4Xtq_umH-JP-cUUabCI7MSJzCb1p1uBmr0H_RkWQ4I9ejA8JOepnH0UC9oNSQl3Vtw6jP8HhpXxe3xnGwqqb65EqJhs3P1KTJn64ZZR2KOCzw7zjtvXApQwNawz/s320/IMG_5449.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stayed for 5 wonderful, relaxing nights in Jill's house in Santa Barbara</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In my San Francisco post I may have mentioned that a kind lady - Sarah - had offered to take a bag of stuff for me to Santa Barbara. I gave her 6kgs of stuff I wasn't going to need over the following two weeks. And really noticed the difference on the bike. Sarah also arranged for me to stay with Jill her friend in Santa Barbara. Jill is a bit of a legend among solo female cycle tourers. She had hosted a rather famous one - Emily Chappell - in June 2016. I was fascinated hearing all about Emily's races. Emily is from the UK, does kind of what I do, except instead of my 40-50 mile days she does 100-200 mile days. <a href="http://thatemilychappell.com/" target="_blank">Here</a> is a link to Emily's blog if anyone is interested.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswQwlnjI15I8akF3Dle8zqYGwdDYopm9-SPd1jKDpyr1JKh-j8xD16NnqmcHegreVrsOa8ynUEq_IOOjm7D4Bfp42KHYGZ6fE4C2O79-Zru41shrqvWIntoHgy-HINsYhXOS3fXonM0aE/s1600/IMG_5437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswQwlnjI15I8akF3Dle8zqYGwdDYopm9-SPd1jKDpyr1JKh-j8xD16NnqmcHegreVrsOa8ynUEq_IOOjm7D4Bfp42KHYGZ6fE4C2O79-Zru41shrqvWIntoHgy-HINsYhXOS3fXonM0aE/s320/IMG_5437.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jill's generous and thoughtful gifts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now this picture may just look like a mattress on a floor of a living room. Jill was at work when I arrived at her home in Santa Barbara and had left the key hidden in the garden. On opening the door I found not only a lovely soft mattress all made up and ready but 3 towels, 1 t-shirt, a razor, a beautiful welcome note AND a bag of quarters to give to trick-or-treaters when they called later that evening (it being Halloween). After spending two months wearing exactly the same clothes every day it was very exciting putting on a new t-shirt. She was heading away for the weekend so kindly said I could stay and make myself at home for a few days. Heaven!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW20TjwTGOaXAhm1BTvfmg9nIDVpcI8WhyFs7Bs_IbMGK7Y-5tV7-SsaESZ0FFL10rjd5F3Y0nyiKQaC4jNE9ywhEHVknXQeQ9VNK1EZ9Nb2fIeDJSMJ40Jxnd_2yv1pNyqp-3LlZuMWVp/s1600/IMG_5451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW20TjwTGOaXAhm1BTvfmg9nIDVpcI8WhyFs7Bs_IbMGK7Y-5tV7-SsaESZ0FFL10rjd5F3Y0nyiKQaC4jNE9ywhEHVknXQeQ9VNK1EZ9Nb2fIeDJSMJ40Jxnd_2yv1pNyqp-3LlZuMWVp/s320/IMG_5451.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a long bath in Jill's house I noticed some zebra feet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKv6A_3qjNZTvoAhIB9W5FRownGD0jFqzvwzn8r9W5_l6-MJNE6LjQW3RGQHGJW3H0nu0s2gJba_-VhFFJWeOz5QRie7oYfXSyuuU_SDrmWUONuEP62nrbgG2i-gxYHi_T4V38f4ybXOA/s1600/IMG_5408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKv6A_3qjNZTvoAhIB9W5FRownGD0jFqzvwzn8r9W5_l6-MJNE6LjQW3RGQHGJW3H0nu0s2gJba_-VhFFJWeOz5QRie7oYfXSyuuU_SDrmWUONuEP62nrbgG2i-gxYHi_T4V38f4ybXOA/s320/IMG_5408.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">University of California Santa Barbara girls tennis team training in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In order to get to Jill's house I cycled through the university of Santa Barbara, UCSB. Of course I had to stop when I heard the sound of tennis balls. The university girls team was training. The standard was amazing, it was just like watching professionals train and in 30 degrees of heat at 12 noon in the day. I happily stopped and watched for a couple of hours.<br />
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<b>Santa Barbara Bike Coop</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The following few pics were taken in a bike workshop in Santa Barbara. I have seen signs for 'bike coalition or bike coop' in many towns that I passed through. They seem to be a hub for training and bike repair. I'm wondering of course to myself if there might be demand in Navan for a bike coop. Surely the population would support it? But I know noone rides bikes in Navan - apart from the men in lycra. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.sbbike.org/" target="_blank">SB Bike</a> offered classes and courses and had a workshop where you could rent a bike stand plus have use of all their tools for $5 per hour. The kind of stuff you can do at <a href="http://www.rothar.ie/" target="_blank">Rothar</a> in Dublin. But it was also a 2nd hand shop (or Thrift Shop as they are called here) for bike stuff. 2nd hand bike jerseys, clip-on shoes, reflectors, tubes, head sets, water bottles, helmets etc. etc. I thought it was a fantastic idea.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFY5grux2-KCQSNbD-qhow2mc9dSNMyk2GaODaM_yK6ufB9ykbrqQgla0bA9zaPJpERT1edKAxM0BdH6Ab8V0ZP-Jk9SFqo3E88EFQP6qiDequEzBD-9LEmRKIvtfHUaT7jo152x6m3EK/s1600/IMG_5496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFY5grux2-KCQSNbD-qhow2mc9dSNMyk2GaODaM_yK6ufB9ykbrqQgla0bA9zaPJpERT1edKAxM0BdH6Ab8V0ZP-Jk9SFqo3E88EFQP6qiDequEzBD-9LEmRKIvtfHUaT7jo152x6m3EK/s320/IMG_5496.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone need a new fork?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8JY5PBQxxZOwp8wTBSzXsiN6njrDnTgFUFiSH6ctyLnulyxc5kedPexKzPsiO3FKGaiW20eD2eq0Ih4QpJpmcTOjdYV1TUnIFld_30pcvi0h0hAydARGQrmel9NfzLTdzazdnPG0dykx/s1600/IMG_5497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8JY5PBQxxZOwp8wTBSzXsiN6njrDnTgFUFiSH6ctyLnulyxc5kedPexKzPsiO3FKGaiW20eD2eq0Ih4QpJpmcTOjdYV1TUnIFld_30pcvi0h0hAydARGQrmel9NfzLTdzazdnPG0dykx/s320/IMG_5497.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These boxes contained all sorts of used bike parts - all neatly sorted and labeled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8z0n-qc1ktTcfJ1KJdACXyaLT2CXb3Fek5sCNXRrVQarK6xuyPrhnM0tSZUc3JHrfJDz0u5Z2CV1yV4qspYy0w6RqyfSpPDdGXNS4XPIFPOHPr_tHgP-OqPf1iYVVe2GLCzRLe6_n5gd/s1600/IMG_5498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8z0n-qc1ktTcfJ1KJdACXyaLT2CXb3Fek5sCNXRrVQarK6xuyPrhnM0tSZUc3JHrfJDz0u5Z2CV1yV4qspYy0w6RqyfSpPDdGXNS4XPIFPOHPr_tHgP-OqPf1iYVVe2GLCzRLe6_n5gd/s320/IMG_5498.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Used and new tyres.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgn8mAi38EFDuotzZ7LC4CcS6VAuq147HvsI5soqTinGGsImVKcyWFoy65u3Sw1nuuqhQFbbW7IWb56Q4SQ5fy2wzbT28mb7Dd6_PmF6nU94fmKIp3wvGVUD1dlypkjfrmpPrvnMhOdSv4/s1600/IMG_5499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgn8mAi38EFDuotzZ7LC4CcS6VAuq147HvsI5soqTinGGsImVKcyWFoy65u3Sw1nuuqhQFbbW7IWb56Q4SQ5fy2wzbT28mb7Dd6_PmF6nU94fmKIp3wvGVUD1dlypkjfrmpPrvnMhOdSv4/s320/IMG_5499.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2nd hand saddles and baskets</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvBM1edPrMubYRUuWTO-hxtex9ntO8MFvV7Ho5BwW8I_8fXxW0Y1BATLf7i-qy6vOgsx3BlW6zW8LhR7IjC16SdhCwJlknM4DZcPHEF3p82IjHll_qNSrC8lDXIw3AFfaiXsndMurvcB0/s1600/IMG_5500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvBM1edPrMubYRUuWTO-hxtex9ntO8MFvV7Ho5BwW8I_8fXxW0Y1BATLf7i-qy6vOgsx3BlW6zW8LhR7IjC16SdhCwJlknM4DZcPHEF3p82IjHll_qNSrC8lDXIw3AFfaiXsndMurvcB0/s320/IMG_5500.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And best of all, kids fixing their own bikes with the help of staff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Casitas Valley Farm, Ventura</b><br />
<b>The highlight of the trip so far!</b><br />
Angel Navan neighbour Fergus, who has been mentioned before, put me in touch with some more friends on the road just south of Santa Barbara. <a href="http://casitasvalley.com/" target="_blank">Casitas Valley Farm</a> is much more than just an organic farm and permaculture training centre. It's like a community movement for a more sustainable life. I arrived late one Saturday evening after a 1000ft climb from the coast and was told I could pitch my tent in the persimmon orchard.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfEXnq4hwrijx1P_1us9uJaGOI0EuiKVUzDgtfcS5mF60eQnvjLxP9GNwbGKhg_ZMnWOBkvJoh1_IymNqGeRipykY9Ompr7erMdhpWpWyfgau_K-6A3XQRtERUo8_h7rRZMmzeLXW38Sk/s1600/IMG_5613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfEXnq4hwrijx1P_1us9uJaGOI0EuiKVUzDgtfcS5mF60eQnvjLxP9GNwbGKhg_ZMnWOBkvJoh1_IymNqGeRipykY9Ompr7erMdhpWpWyfgau_K-6A3XQRtERUo8_h7rRZMmzeLXW38Sk/s320/IMG_5613.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeny Green happily sitting amongs the persimmon trees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZRadq-viNLG7AkcP-LifqqcCTkOsj3LiZjGBwcjzR5yURubQBRQmlEKCc4dkJ3T3IS91rVvrXlTD0be8GisrUqevJlk2uzBoX-hP3ECFquCg4JHZ9jCq3He-g-DiJXAEoDhGanTL-qjI/s1600/fuyu-persimmons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZRadq-viNLG7AkcP-LifqqcCTkOsj3LiZjGBwcjzR5yURubQBRQmlEKCc4dkJ3T3IS91rVvrXlTD0be8GisrUqevJlk2uzBoX-hP3ECFquCg4JHZ9jCq3He-g-DiJXAEoDhGanTL-qjI/s320/fuyu-persimmons.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a persimmon. Texture of an apple, colour of a pumpkin, <br />
taste of a sweet juicy roasted sweet potato</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Four generations of family live at the ranch. They grow avocados, have a market garden, run all sorts of courses including a 30 day permaculture design course. The main brains behind the operation is Waren Bush who regularly travels to Ireland and has strong connections with UCC.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm81hcYvKKGCdEmmKdD8QpSkp2LSiEng1NdifArCQQW2UrQtmzOndS5oWjN_2Wlw24EOoQP75m4bXmtU_3mV_vLoDzjoXohlOz_QwsK3sB8TlQPH4o1T5HjI9OtU5D2zF4ZPTQQU2fvmRI/s1600/IMG_5620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm81hcYvKKGCdEmmKdD8QpSkp2LSiEng1NdifArCQQW2UrQtmzOndS5oWjN_2Wlw24EOoQP75m4bXmtU_3mV_vLoDzjoXohlOz_QwsK3sB8TlQPH4o1T5HjI9OtU5D2zF4ZPTQQU2fvmRI/s320/IMG_5620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna and her daughter Phoenix who I had met in Navan<br />
in Fergus' kitchen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipY85dkxCOqVewzsBasoa5KGTK49Vy9zm8zaze6jr8HWn1vmpW6G_alKXqPWu6En4j_VjxQk6Gp41s9R7Sp6Tr5Aset2qyCkdgUUPQhNi5wuqkS6PPhVFWYh216gqX02FNWuMcV_xU_lLB/s1600/IMG_5522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipY85dkxCOqVewzsBasoa5KGTK49Vy9zm8zaze6jr8HWn1vmpW6G_alKXqPWu6En4j_VjxQk6Gp41s9R7Sp6Tr5Aset2qyCkdgUUPQhNi5wuqkS6PPhVFWYh216gqX02FNWuMcV_xU_lLB/s320/IMG_5522.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesse's grandparents had hosted Fergus in California many moons ago</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RjjIVh3JnIjtUR3Dvczk29ogjmF6EXcB_G32xgFU_H_8Sg55NJyNYD7fBrDs8GLGMh7kJfeQyJ6QLE26uBrQR5ateOsWkdOfwCqB9xogMHx3NlwcPUDd86aVpfstWfd8OjgFIDGe_YxP/s1600/IMG_5565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RjjIVh3JnIjtUR3Dvczk29ogjmF6EXcB_G32xgFU_H_8Sg55NJyNYD7fBrDs8GLGMh7kJfeQyJ6QLE26uBrQR5ateOsWkdOfwCqB9xogMHx3NlwcPUDd86aVpfstWfd8OjgFIDGe_YxP/s320/IMG_5565.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna and friends in the farm kitchen cooking up delights for<br />
course participants.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicolzxqosUzJ68qLD_rQJogPndu3xEtiVXDye0youqb2VqRDPPtu4W07XUK3VXFwCsQwxT6PKRRtDbFWi2PytT6nhis6Ad8sU3WkKpF45-hvv7dBJ6aQQ90O477RdxHWqeIVizng5VQxJF/s1600/IMG_5561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicolzxqosUzJ68qLD_rQJogPndu3xEtiVXDye0youqb2VqRDPPtu4W07XUK3VXFwCsQwxT6PKRRtDbFWi2PytT6nhis6Ad8sU3WkKpF45-hvv7dBJ6aQQ90O477RdxHWqeIVizng5VQxJF/s320/IMG_5561.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campfire is up and running at 7am. My kind of place!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAJiLjDifIDIvnO8lIlfaYvamiK8DW55O3WofR7E65xPXrnPrDkHJoXTWPUH4FzbNvIiYWR_zr4786VBaJVDBaXfYgz06pc7NWGe2yr8oCaxTPZKAgt-sg25yJf5IFU8lGhGEaaEParSM/s1600/IMG_5551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAJiLjDifIDIvnO8lIlfaYvamiK8DW55O3WofR7E65xPXrnPrDkHJoXTWPUH4FzbNvIiYWR_zr4786VBaJVDBaXfYgz06pc7NWGe2yr8oCaxTPZKAgt-sg25yJf5IFU8lGhGEaaEParSM/s320/IMG_5551.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chickens were fed home-grown red peppers <br />
so that their yolk would be dark yellow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKg8HQVLAvsCFyKunsavQfggTeujduSmlxbz1gSBu7GINQEhscX-tckpfEjf4o2-Jjx48XmZIbIGw4Q_nJeMmGCqlhm-wbs8S7A5DkW9DgAl3CIhxTz2lVfmQodZAsnyxajiutWXwgtB_/s1600/IMG_5529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKg8HQVLAvsCFyKunsavQfggTeujduSmlxbz1gSBu7GINQEhscX-tckpfEjf4o2-Jjx48XmZIbIGw4Q_nJeMmGCqlhm-wbs8S7A5DkW9DgAl3CIhxTz2lVfmQodZAsnyxajiutWXwgtB_/s320/IMG_5529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An evening on the town with Castias in Carpenteria. <br />
I tasted mead for the first time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Approaching Los Angeles</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7I9gx0wGPz6oZXM6_tqvp9x8XNehF6peg6ErgecpRzhUmftzyZdwwQ_1_GgoHvpRwsjD1nAZCthr304aF-vUMXNlfaJlgDkI7rUwrDTFkPyHSKJYJRGCZDhC6Nk7gc1P78IwPcFgObCi4/s1600/IMG_5643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7I9gx0wGPz6oZXM6_tqvp9x8XNehF6peg6ErgecpRzhUmftzyZdwwQ_1_GgoHvpRwsjD1nAZCthr304aF-vUMXNlfaJlgDkI7rUwrDTFkPyHSKJYJRGCZDhC6Nk7gc1P78IwPcFgObCi4/s320/IMG_5643.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early bird catching the waves at the 6.23am sunrise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The RVs (recreational vehicles) - (or camper vans as we call them) here in the US are massive. When I cycled south in Morocco one January, I was often overtaken by French or Dutch or Swedish- registered camper vans heading south for the winter sun, similar pattern all over the world I guess.<br />
<br />
However the big difference is the size of these American RVs. This particular one in the photo below is probably the most luxurious I have seen. It is the size of a 56 seater bus for starters, has four side sections - two on each side - which expand out by the push of a button. This one also has a back balcony, with bbq and a side balcony with awning. I had a quick look online and something like this costs about $350k to buy new. As I cycle alongside them on my bike with 4 pannier bags containing everything I need and more, I do wonder why they need so much STUFF!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghalDFpiVgKwf80P8o1L6jIDyYVpwdOFps5oSIhHInjGUJzUX_pARVNVRkwFR88j_5h2sY4ra9Ur0l25neFFXeKvRb4FFp9BJjOq6cNHwZlRINVmhCgF_8F8J-bdl8nbuK2F0XPIf35Sfo/s1600/IMG_5662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghalDFpiVgKwf80P8o1L6jIDyYVpwdOFps5oSIhHInjGUJzUX_pARVNVRkwFR88j_5h2sY4ra9Ur0l25neFFXeKvRb4FFp9BJjOq6cNHwZlRINVmhCgF_8F8J-bdl8nbuK2F0XPIf35Sfo/s320/IMG_5662.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Massive camper van with fold out balcony, complete with BBQ.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuHgeT5WmNkFt4Q77WIVeuWbFJ7QQvlceC07d_Z4EwFJuLbiyP4dHuYRESekW1yzpwYn3-claMlLk3fxMI4_zqbj6qXzmDF08xsQQyXaJIOp5k2YYjnpd5JjQrkhLuqzHCzGNAv83ksQs/s1600/IMG_5672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuHgeT5WmNkFt4Q77WIVeuWbFJ7QQvlceC07d_Z4EwFJuLbiyP4dHuYRESekW1yzpwYn3-claMlLk3fxMI4_zqbj6qXzmDF08xsQQyXaJIOp5k2YYjnpd5JjQrkhLuqzHCzGNAv83ksQs/s320/IMG_5672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A bike rack on the front of a police car in Malibu.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Coastal Erosion</b><br />
<div>
A constant sight on the west coast has been coastal erosion. Below two diggers are reclaiming sand from the sea bed near Malibu, just north of LA.</div>
<div>
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<div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gsxLmyLvlibw3Ff9j0ggLKOwqu5UGXiQjn3_TR_no87B1di9yQKX4UZr5m3NH20-_as4xpOGxGvRlVkTQGuewgFk5TVgzcfeRANM4CpCSxSCBEdrj9h8rd2KTqBcN_tm2Z14LOVEjhn2/s1600/IMG_5701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gsxLmyLvlibw3Ff9j0ggLKOwqu5UGXiQjn3_TR_no87B1di9yQKX4UZr5m3NH20-_as4xpOGxGvRlVkTQGuewgFk5TVgzcfeRANM4CpCSxSCBEdrj9h8rd2KTqBcN_tm2Z14LOVEjhn2/s320/IMG_5701.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">2 diggers building a sand wall near Malibu.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEm0SrLm2AFRejtN0wNV2ZDysbJvrmmX-sUKBOyRw5OlB7Jo0BA8Lb7xd1pFlDTg1iuXaHHWSIdiM-I73HdblKIuZQTlUzvSadOa69N8KfXGvJxObDfe2QSNpRiFUhAzynh6qOZsXisD6/s1600/IMG_5390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEm0SrLm2AFRejtN0wNV2ZDysbJvrmmX-sUKBOyRw5OlB7Jo0BA8Lb7xd1pFlDTg1iuXaHHWSIdiM-I73HdblKIuZQTlUzvSadOa69N8KfXGvJxObDfe2QSNpRiFUhAzynh6qOZsXisD6/s320/IMG_5390.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roots of trees exposed almost completely on a sandy beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuXf-JFB_t-IYHaSa7VFEdhyphenhyphenUSf_55u5RAwgwn24y8J-E46maA2bvrpkkRlntwT27oexgv5n9mpuLCh6g01tGgDBwA9EILYCzIZJHd4HFHpUW2kpDGr-lb4xmsBIY5GHSaXl2f_TEMlQ9/s1600/IMG_5468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuXf-JFB_t-IYHaSa7VFEdhyphenhyphenUSf_55u5RAwgwn24y8J-E46maA2bvrpkkRlntwT27oexgv5n9mpuLCh6g01tGgDBwA9EILYCzIZJHd4HFHpUW2kpDGr-lb4xmsBIY5GHSaXl2f_TEMlQ9/s320/IMG_5468.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet another beautiful sunset on the west coast</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-57931027547761894732016-11-04T13:07:00.000-07:002016-11-04T22:38:38.230-07:00Central California<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlzC5aH2Lk4yP5sm4LtOd6Xz9GMhlJY6Zai8mgz480RXsMoWazj1I_snM-XM3b8UY-araHX-LSnd-TES9PTWS7KXRRmozYPQxYH0ca_znoR3PhE48cPiR1MNdDtVUos1rqeiEFPXk0WGr/s1600/IMG_5093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlzC5aH2Lk4yP5sm4LtOd6Xz9GMhlJY6Zai8mgz480RXsMoWazj1I_snM-XM3b8UY-araHX-LSnd-TES9PTWS7KXRRmozYPQxYH0ca_znoR3PhE48cPiR1MNdDtVUos1rqeiEFPXk0WGr/s320/IMG_5093.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Between 5-6pm is my favourite time to ride. Sun is just setting.<br />
And the main graft for the day is over.</td></tr>
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And at last the sun came out in Central California. From SF south I was promised blue skies and that is indeed what was delivered. This section from SF, through Big Sur and on to Santa Barbara has been a feast of company. Below is a picture of Herbie from Galway, the first Irish cycle tourer I think I have ever met. He and his girlfriend Laura are doing a big Vancouver to Patagonia trip. It's amazing how an Irish accent feels on the ear after not hearing one for six weeks. They are largely going in the same direction albeit at a faster pace, but hopefully we will meet often and share random camping nights along the way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOgEGN6J0tD0c40KLTpyZLNYff02ogkhMwsqourm8L2Sdu3ZLNrnAjCxZKD-3I-65A8KqZ_nmtzNXahPCE9FiBeCjP3wm3iYWzOtJIpJzjDv2OIkK2rOm5wA_PoBxlZ9iR2wiJnyOEHFV/s1600/IMG_5107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOgEGN6J0tD0c40KLTpyZLNYff02ogkhMwsqourm8L2Sdu3ZLNrnAjCxZKD-3I-65A8KqZ_nmtzNXahPCE9FiBeCjP3wm3iYWzOtJIpJzjDv2OIkK2rOm5wA_PoBxlZ9iR2wiJnyOEHFV/s320/IMG_5107.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delighted to meet an Irish cyclist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlsCuOh8dHIUmsReNQDcHuK7Ze0ynAqcegXbtnUsZD5rp4l5THnk21Usz4EnD3Rpr-INEt98N5kMwPvlhYqc_XoEF0bvn3Af4XjfcLxLS47gL0mN7fPwxXPaZ_SW2efoUJN4DeaPtrQHx/s320/IMG_5108.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kerri (AUS), Laura (UK) and Herbie (IRL).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlsCuOh8dHIUmsReNQDcHuK7Ze0ynAqcegXbtnUsZD5rp4l5THnk21Usz4EnD3Rpr-INEt98N5kMwPvlhYqc_XoEF0bvn3Af4XjfcLxLS47gL0mN7fPwxXPaZ_SW2efoUJN4DeaPtrQHx/s1600/IMG_5108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlsCuOh8dHIUmsReNQDcHuK7Ze0ynAqcegXbtnUsZD5rp4l5THnk21Usz4EnD3Rpr-INEt98N5kMwPvlhYqc_XoEF0bvn3Af4XjfcLxLS47gL0mN7fPwxXPaZ_SW2efoUJN4DeaPtrQHx/s1600/IMG_5108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
I had bumped into Kerri from Melbourne a week earlier at the hostel north of SF, so it was great to bump into her randomly again here at the Half Moon Bay campsite. A funny thing happened that night which was to lead to a merging of 2 cycling groups. Us four (above pic) were cooking dinner in the dark at a picnic table when two other cyclists approached us asking if they could build their campfire in our fire pit. To which I replied, of course as long as 'us four' are invited to the campfire.<br />
<br />
Herbie from LA then proceeded to introduce herself to Herbie from Ireland. Both not quite believing that the other persons name was Herbie. It was like a comedy act to listen to. 'Hi I'm Herbie. No I'm Herbie. Did you say Herbie? Is your name Herbie? Oh my name is Herbie. Are you sure your name is Herbie? Yes, I'm Herbie. Neither Herbies really know any other Herbies. Just hilarious. As it transpired I ended up cycling with both Herbies for the next week.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrww8P5wuSdulX6D26aRK37B5TvphzNa5afacJcrJCWMvjPkVoZXvI954CTsVnnfZvD_1HfqqmWiYuwvHg8oH0982ntK20Zf-t4JJw4AlAxm86lpCIXCSmEL4JbW9T7mmb1PNYVbp59SWs/s1600/IMG_5235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrww8P5wuSdulX6D26aRK37B5TvphzNa5afacJcrJCWMvjPkVoZXvI954CTsVnnfZvD_1HfqqmWiYuwvHg8oH0982ntK20Zf-t4JJw4AlAxm86lpCIXCSmEL4JbW9T7mmb1PNYVbp59SWs/s320/IMG_5235.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lot of us including both Herbies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho10VBeEcEjOThEgQYvSkvjge2GPVJVGGKWbgBIlqAzDLoCucqFqgVMZq8vdSZkWR7iC7YAMSd7M9X1vzGTzZy5JWJCWuc1zwBMsJyBW_eyiLYnZTB2-keesilZ4HXDslGujUuGDwtw0lk/s1600/IMG_5255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho10VBeEcEjOThEgQYvSkvjge2GPVJVGGKWbgBIlqAzDLoCucqFqgVMZq8vdSZkWR7iC7YAMSd7M9X1vzGTzZy5JWJCWuc1zwBMsJyBW_eyiLYnZTB2-keesilZ4HXDslGujUuGDwtw0lk/s320/IMG_5255.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Herbie from LA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Herbie from LA was riding with four friends from various parts of California. Two of the friends rode with plastic buckets on the back of their bikes. They seem to be waterproof, super cheap, durable and best of all - with the lid on they make great seats around a campfire. Jackie from Toronto but originally from Mexico, is also riding with buckets. She also built her own bike with the help of the Bike Coop in Victoria, BC.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6hVebwwyPFiNLQcmjLGuQddVR6xD-U-jCJZS6b9JvRgMQbc2axDHaIPgN1BC_Fh5CR_1wQpcOUmcaVFvO2i5dDM0Lh6R3ejnV2U2rjTWiwJeMHXE2ALGpQGm8B1uxiB3gwGypNOHCH1s/s1600/IMG_5207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6hVebwwyPFiNLQcmjLGuQddVR6xD-U-jCJZS6b9JvRgMQbc2axDHaIPgN1BC_Fh5CR_1wQpcOUmcaVFvO2i5dDM0Lh6R3ejnV2U2rjTWiwJeMHXE2ALGpQGm8B1uxiB3gwGypNOHCH1s/s320/IMG_5207.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plastic buckets as panniers. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0N38sDANagKPlnCj5bRok9qRVUYXKdVePcy8_DjHzrjOMsEcA1E0DlUZIprMWPrEfEatNjMPg97hD6HNJNsumS91VZXMiceI3xQluIwm2j6h5w9U23t3UE0CQDWO9236xbv7Y-zu-zLD8/s1600/IMG_5186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0N38sDANagKPlnCj5bRok9qRVUYXKdVePcy8_DjHzrjOMsEcA1E0DlUZIprMWPrEfEatNjMPg97hD6HNJNsumS91VZXMiceI3xQluIwm2j6h5w9U23t3UE0CQDWO9236xbv7Y-zu-zLD8/s320/IMG_5186.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackie also rides with buckets on her back rack.</td></tr>
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Santa Cruz was one of those towns that you could hang out for a week. But as usual I arrived late and left early. However I did get to watch 'salsa on the prom' for about an hour. Just lovely. A random local hooked up his laptop to a speaker and possibly 100 people danced salsa. I was so impressed by the 'all shapes and sizes' easy vibe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3kW6tzcN9g7uX9JccQ5e1jzfyvtPKG6Y6-Ri41f7FPSeNmJNbY6aOOGeuOJV9unA1SW6cEQnx72tRqMpnvOvMHs53Ms6DUQS_uSHehvOzCedDPYKYveSekDEY6rccGPEhv5U8aZ-bSN5/s1600/IMG_5111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3kW6tzcN9g7uX9JccQ5e1jzfyvtPKG6Y6-Ri41f7FPSeNmJNbY6aOOGeuOJV9unA1SW6cEQnx72tRqMpnvOvMHs53Ms6DUQS_uSHehvOzCedDPYKYveSekDEY6rccGPEhv5U8aZ-bSN5/s320/IMG_5111.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salsa dancing on the pier in Santa Cruz. Had I known any<br />
steps I would have joined in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXnpVSX_3eaLgz9TuXxUlQcNtyYL38EJ6iSXu6wOE4_icAeONKO5-yqxhy8z8yTgMyRSTaU5dOHoI6bEmfLQzawv6aqDZ1anR2ewPRgXFWwjjYTK48kKA_nQNRi4Q_B9qbL7zQ_KgW-3m/s1600/IMG_5120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXnpVSX_3eaLgz9TuXxUlQcNtyYL38EJ6iSXu6wOE4_icAeONKO5-yqxhy8z8yTgMyRSTaU5dOHoI6bEmfLQzawv6aqDZ1anR2ewPRgXFWwjjYTK48kKA_nQNRi4Q_B9qbL7zQ_KgW-3m/s320/IMG_5120.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castroville is seemingly the artichoke capital of the world.<br />
I was informed by some customers that yes, it would be possible<br />
to cook an artichoke in a pot on a camp stove.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dpi4jggmxSs/WBzFNGHfHWI/AAAAAAAAL-k/Vy0Ej7eRvVMWTXwn1I9OmtZOmCI-z_w-ACPcB/s1600/IMG_5130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dpi4jggmxSs/WBzFNGHfHWI/AAAAAAAAL-k/Vy0Ej7eRvVMWTXwn1I9OmtZOmCI-z_w-ACPcB/s320/IMG_5130.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Monterey all I had to do was follow the smell and the barking<br />
to find hordes of sea lions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AeV0GrK6uMU/WBzFNHDzCCI/AAAAAAAAL-k/zmCwW_leTQwzWaVZpGP28Zhmc289rfwawCPcB/s1600/IMG_5138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AeV0GrK6uMU/WBzFNHDzCCI/AAAAAAAAL-k/zmCwW_leTQwzWaVZpGP28Zhmc289rfwawCPcB/s320/IMG_5138.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For two days in a road cycling issues made the<br />
front page of the SF Chronicle. Imagine that happening at home?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzhBKJ-O5WywukvqWMEZCwSV9IIiKQqe2dDDxKdBU3DnOdA2AxL9Noy05uq78Kwu1t4HQNDpGiwoLUkOs2gtZnHUJzjeTXU736YyB5201KuXTdYUTbw3Pl3nlpOZKiBIaIh1EaXhB1Xnl/s1600/IMG_5142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzhBKJ-O5WywukvqWMEZCwSV9IIiKQqe2dDDxKdBU3DnOdA2AxL9Noy05uq78Kwu1t4HQNDpGiwoLUkOs2gtZnHUJzjeTXU736YyB5201KuXTdYUTbw3Pl3nlpOZKiBIaIh1EaXhB1Xnl/s320/IMG_5142.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town of Carmel was the first place I actually felt like swimming<br />
or walking along the beach. The Pacific, up until now, has been so aggressive.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMF2sCI3mdqm_39y1L5j6VWzQmtzO2E61J12QJNgB_g8uoumSRI2ZYibyXUutIGLPC94SsPUOUUVyRBfB8vxU0C4BONQCwMvV4r3YrcQ9PTR4TKCqTZ6u90VLe1m3e-NGuE6RFfGW0ITg/s1600/IMG_5147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMF2sCI3mdqm_39y1L5j6VWzQmtzO2E61J12QJNgB_g8uoumSRI2ZYibyXUutIGLPC94SsPUOUUVyRBfB8vxU0C4BONQCwMvV4r3YrcQ9PTR4TKCqTZ6u90VLe1m3e-NGuE6RFfGW0ITg/s320/IMG_5147.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought this was a creative way of warning<br />
the public against drink/driving.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On a random day on a random part of the route a car stopped up ahead of me. An arm was sticking out the window of the passenger seat holding a slice of watermelon. So I stopped to say hello. The couple from Hawaii just saw me climbing a hill and thought I might like some watermelon. A random act of kindness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRjW25mf98qT6pzdF38v6hVtYc9YACIGA94OqELpoH_f-SYfnawZglBDIZiFZod-oTVNltPBBQmtoZEwwS6F5V3Av_9bXaEgBuXNs8dPcDgqwtn5yeqqodGkoMxJIZYqyMeA3wUk8Qf9J/s1600/IMG_5151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRjW25mf98qT6pzdF38v6hVtYc9YACIGA94OqELpoH_f-SYfnawZglBDIZiFZod-oTVNltPBBQmtoZEwwS6F5V3Av_9bXaEgBuXNs8dPcDgqwtn5yeqqodGkoMxJIZYqyMeA3wUk8Qf9J/s320/IMG_5151.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random couple give me watermelon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The five lassies from California became my new best buddies for the next 3-4 days. They had pre-booked a camp space (75$) in private campgrounds along the way through Big Sur so each night I just camped for free with them. And each night we lit a campfire. And each night we feasted on smores. For those of you, like me, who have never heard of a smore, it is an American camping delight. You squish a toasted marshmallow on top of a piece of chocolate and squash it all between two crackers/biscuits so that the chocolate starts to melt. The girls made me smores and watched and laughed as I tried to eat them without melted chocolate dribbling down my face. They are called smores because you always want some more.... get it?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0hJcWQ1H-UR2xcef3v7a-XP_u1-WgT9CaIKRnZA2p1A9TRGU7GsMMUBrJxHYMGma95pIODqicxGg2imDFYVWvEVHUrL79cmS6aEPbrcBKuIa8yHAvuCqwFjbLsZjV630scBhsLXt_6gR/s1600/IMG_5176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0hJcWQ1H-UR2xcef3v7a-XP_u1-WgT9CaIKRnZA2p1A9TRGU7GsMMUBrJxHYMGma95pIODqicxGg2imDFYVWvEVHUrL79cmS6aEPbrcBKuIa8yHAvuCqwFjbLsZjV630scBhsLXt_6gR/s320/IMG_5176.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting on pannier buckets around the campfire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxJsnJ9sY4VEha6k731xWHaYNke9x2mZBIfLR9jrQ6qxDYMUIQXhvCXWY7cpnkIUFK4nr1NgsfOa8uoYQrpRox75x4_i2DciNTYA2CdnSF71iFcr0ku8R1oId7E_CIfHBlpGOzMxDxFhl/s1600/IMG_5180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxJsnJ9sY4VEha6k731xWHaYNke9x2mZBIfLR9jrQ6qxDYMUIQXhvCXWY7cpnkIUFK4nr1NgsfOa8uoYQrpRox75x4_i2DciNTYA2CdnSF71iFcr0ku8R1oId7E_CIfHBlpGOzMxDxFhl/s320/IMG_5180.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first smore.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gXvZYYUS-QlpqXnIEbcyxZIMK4SMvklarxhx8WOjICmvzo8jNpKlJgg8nJKCU4x1n-FotVpibFXmUVQr9uhajhkd7gsirTjAYjh-wysAdV7O9575mAymVDFoLa6aEcefJ7CjpxBrFAmC/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gXvZYYUS-QlpqXnIEbcyxZIMK4SMvklarxhx8WOjICmvzo8jNpKlJgg8nJKCU4x1n-FotVpibFXmUVQr9uhajhkd7gsirTjAYjh-wysAdV7O9575mAymVDFoLa6aEcefJ7CjpxBrFAmC/s320/IMG_5350.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
I'm very fond of this pic. Saying goodbye for now to great travelling companions.</div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
The 5 Californian ladies, Herbie & Laura and Jackie.</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A good friend and Navan neighbour and follower of this blog is Fergus. He is an avid cyclist and used to live in California and had kindly connected me with various American angels on my bike route. I was never so happy to be rescued in the pouring rain at a random highway junction as I was when his friends of old Anne and Glen found me in the dark and threw me and Sherpa into the back of their truck. They put me up for the night in their mobile home in Moro Bay and I soon turned it into a Chinese laundry, hanging up every item on a chair, door etc. The next morning I set out in the rain to buy some breakfast. You can't quite believe the delight of going to a store, buying some eggs and bread and coming home to cook breakfast. Such a simple action. But after 6 weeks of camp porridge, I was loving the kitchen.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nEe-X6sz45BaOHjD_vC_5KoyrZnsUoWx7TkN7fPD-UXwxerxjKXWvndm9VNgdzIvuG6HtEWRfoqrxAsYNSt4U9DoyUjN_PKSQVsld5vC9MIH7QIfRzA5cBqbOskS_EFhbtafelp8qAvR/s1600/IMG_5285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nEe-X6sz45BaOHjD_vC_5KoyrZnsUoWx7TkN7fPD-UXwxerxjKXWvndm9VNgdzIvuG6HtEWRfoqrxAsYNSt4U9DoyUjN_PKSQVsld5vC9MIH7QIfRzA5cBqbOskS_EFhbtafelp8qAvR/s320/IMG_5285.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriving back to the mobile home with eggs, milk and bread.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgob2sNo5meLo1wwZWG-qE60d64bXZKxOmCuy_Plgjw67DRow9FEvQ0gV1a8Tcq6_Je4Yfki4bpQmkEfn7h6p0-AeFXh42CCdJklFTgsl10i2gft0dduuhrn4fy5h2TB5seRuE466H93iFC/s1600/IMG_5314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgob2sNo5meLo1wwZWG-qE60d64bXZKxOmCuy_Plgjw67DRow9FEvQ0gV1a8Tcq6_Je4Yfki4bpQmkEfn7h6p0-AeFXh42CCdJklFTgsl10i2gft0dduuhrn4fy5h2TB5seRuE466H93iFC/s320/IMG_5314.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely Anne cooking me pancakes the following morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGxjVG2HoXSBp4DyU6CUNqreFuRqz8MSqp92XT1tdMwPu7NK-58imwuoHRhK5X2n0ei9VFkrcybYMU7HzxkOJScVuJEmygOuFHTfYCVJDDNpXypzJRAZ6Xnulle34P3Rwl07zJ2PZfKA5/s1600/IMG_5324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGxjVG2HoXSBp4DyU6CUNqreFuRqz8MSqp92XT1tdMwPu7NK-58imwuoHRhK5X2n0ei9VFkrcybYMU7HzxkOJScVuJEmygOuFHTfYCVJDDNpXypzJRAZ6Xnulle34P3Rwl07zJ2PZfKA5/s320/IMG_5324.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks Anne and Glen for the wonder hospitality.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-73205970635841799232016-11-03T19:32:00.002-07:002016-11-03T20:14:42.460-07:00San Francisco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0k0v4i_ADZkMhjwZHjRGY_eFfQ2An0gBK6ZgJeGzb9i6Fj-Iefbsis9_X2Qp3N_GSFn11oLMFnf5bgDw12WlIUqmUsQs_X5oXRsXl17_B1xTbxgf66LML9LmSuzu0sSn8NF7KpP5bhxZ/s1600/IMG_4880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0k0v4i_ADZkMhjwZHjRGY_eFfQ2An0gBK6ZgJeGzb9i6Fj-Iefbsis9_X2Qp3N_GSFn11oLMFnf5bgDw12WlIUqmUsQs_X5oXRsXl17_B1xTbxgf66LML9LmSuzu0sSn8NF7KpP5bhxZ/s320/IMG_4880.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful mural along 'The Wiggle' in SF. The wiggle is a famous<br />
section of bike route which saves your climbing impossibly steep hills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Where does one start when writing about San Francisco. It was my first time there and I just loved it. Loved it. Loved it. Ellen's brother Martin had lived there for 10 years so sent me this fantastic email full of ideas and things to do and see. By far the best piece of advice I took was to join some of the free walking tours. They were organised by the public library and staffed by volunteers, usually retired knowledgeable folk who just loved SF. You could give a donation at the end of the 1-2 hour walk if you wanted. A gem.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsB0tPPC0rTn6GK3jEtOcNl_wCjaEgmyYq3AIyjQJlwuflyLtHAMFl5IQaSwufhtmQ0Qa1TjZVymLbUXPHN-xMq2sHuJJpYChAjTYpTUad7ts9JX-aNqgeAtZxNepDpOQRFdCbZifqlhB/s1600/IMG_4895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsB0tPPC0rTn6GK3jEtOcNl_wCjaEgmyYq3AIyjQJlwuflyLtHAMFl5IQaSwufhtmQ0Qa1TjZVymLbUXPHN-xMq2sHuJJpYChAjTYpTUad7ts9JX-aNqgeAtZxNepDpOQRFdCbZifqlhB/s320/IMG_4895.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A newly designed zebra crossing in the Castro area.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0y6AgL4otQk2FYDC3mtaSZ9ItvamYif6jYbhuZEoFzoAFbOTPClYVeLP7osCmpSwhGDRQq-3ZC1XwBbZ7PSgMnQmfaDoOFiYiiM9FjvFi1quCZxDm0Nu90H3NgqQLrBYq_UfLIth4v0SR/s1600/IMG_4915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0y6AgL4otQk2FYDC3mtaSZ9ItvamYif6jYbhuZEoFzoAFbOTPClYVeLP7osCmpSwhGDRQq-3ZC1XwBbZ7PSgMnQmfaDoOFiYiiM9FjvFi1quCZxDm0Nu90H3NgqQLrBYq_UfLIth4v0SR/s320/IMG_4915.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our fantastic tour guide for the Castro tour.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our tour guide explained how the original rainbow symbol contained eight colours. Both the pink and one of the blues were then eliminated mainly because mass-producing flag makers didn't stock pink fabric. No flags of the world contain pink seemingly. So the rainbow symbol that now represents gay pride has only six colours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgvwcjXEVSJNQb5oep1oWEIhhsi9n8hyphenhyphenotuu8dDKYCtll2aVa5tznWHQ42XdmszGiL14zvIawKgnt3_m576SGbgNTbMWWGMBjt-XByFWFNAblmOHdTb69dBm-qN0lCrSXM1Z2L9ZvLssd/s1600/IMG_4920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgvwcjXEVSJNQb5oep1oWEIhhsi9n8hyphenhyphenotuu8dDKYCtll2aVa5tznWHQ42XdmszGiL14zvIawKgnt3_m576SGbgNTbMWWGMBjt-XByFWFNAblmOHdTb69dBm-qN0lCrSXM1Z2L9ZvLssd/s320/IMG_4920.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A plague in the Harvey Milk Plaza to remember the much loved activist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrI2ZMYtKRswqlkKy9hGRjT8WRrt7gKsSExrouyqXH5el8KrDkrWzDhFmq3M9rIU8lhZXmm54bxkf4n7q2UAy8t6kMLGxmfj-w_JjMWwmQamfMT3PYFI5rn0syZJ18g4-TpgeFiofOtSg/s1600/IMG_4936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrI2ZMYtKRswqlkKy9hGRjT8WRrt7gKsSExrouyqXH5el8KrDkrWzDhFmq3M9rIU8lhZXmm54bxkf4n7q2UAy8t6kMLGxmfj-w_JjMWwmQamfMT3PYFI5rn0syZJ18g4-TpgeFiofOtSg/s320/IMG_4936.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harvey Milk's bookstore in the Castro district.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You may have seen the movie Milk. If not I think it's worth a watch. I saw it years ago, but need a refresh. I watched the movie Jobs last night as Apple was founded in Palo Alto just a stones throw from here... so Milk might be on the menu tonight. (I have rare access just at the moment to electricity, wifi AND a sofa - quite the luxury). He was not just an activist for the gay community in San Francisco but also for lots of other minority groups. He was truly loved it seems but was assassinated in his early 50s.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuRQK1KOPjSZI5tA-CphF_efyztvqCH5S0xUWsuPFC7VfEpsY9o6oNxnf-DXpnMkG8-daluA6zPQ_SaLdOP9bv5VcPO1xfT68OvrJ69hnh4y4WupWDCSZfpqSDxl7Iz1sTT5OLlvXy_yi/s1600/IMG_4939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuRQK1KOPjSZI5tA-CphF_efyztvqCH5S0xUWsuPFC7VfEpsY9o6oNxnf-DXpnMkG8-daluA6zPQ_SaLdOP9bv5VcPO1xfT68OvrJ69hnh4y4WupWDCSZfpqSDxl7Iz1sTT5OLlvXy_yi/s320/IMG_4939.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous Castro theatre, built by Syrians in the 1920s.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I knew nothing about the Castro theatre before I stumbled across a queue outside its door at 17.20 one sunny day. When I asked what was playing someone said a 1930s German thriller (it turned out to be M) with English subtitles. I bought a ticket and went to the movies. And yes, when the movie was over an organist playing the organ was lifted out of the orchestra pit in the theatre and played for 10 minutes. It's an iconic structure in the Castro district... famous for its sing-a-long movie nights. Sing-a-long to Annie was playing that weekend. Would have loved to see that. Me thinks there is a niche in Ireland for a sing-a-long cinema. Anyone agree?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBxgvJSZXxK0ZTPWL025zD3Rn34YtgizO1w04AJecwrr_p0M9jCURGBnn3s__EAb2rp0MWJgDQYVdSHx8mzCJ9-0IfMSB4Vl9LbxDNAgmhVqNQGcwbyNDWF2fQ5cyb6xns4_A2S0Kx2DM/s1600/IMG_4937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBxgvJSZXxK0ZTPWL025zD3Rn34YtgizO1w04AJecwrr_p0M9jCURGBnn3s__EAb2rp0MWJgDQYVdSHx8mzCJ9-0IfMSB4Vl9LbxDNAgmhVqNQGcwbyNDWF2fQ5cyb6xns4_A2S0Kx2DM/s320/IMG_4937.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful and poignant words I thought. In case you can't read it says..<br />
'when I was in the military they gave me a medal for killing two men<br />
and a discharge for loving one'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My favourite tour was that of the Castro. When I asked a shop keeper at an intersection of two roads, if 'this was it?' i.e. 'is this the main drag of the Castro' he say 'it sure is, welcome to the gayest corner in the world. There was such a great vibe and the streets were lined with rainbow flags.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4916p3PlJbcjCAhxWBV3oRXwDH6OHKP2BAxNgbXk0wetzPYak2XXGP7-5iCyI0f3fWsTow8EaWAn_ffTjeLC1eu0lJzn2FEYjAL2sRzAsxJRgVgG075bfoaawcA92MJrVqpk9ZwqeE_B/s1600/IMG_5039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4916p3PlJbcjCAhxWBV3oRXwDH6OHKP2BAxNgbXk0wetzPYak2XXGP7-5iCyI0f3fWsTow8EaWAn_ffTjeLC1eu0lJzn2FEYjAL2sRzAsxJRgVgG075bfoaawcA92MJrVqpk9ZwqeE_B/s320/IMG_5039.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
The other major highlight of SF was my warm showers host. Mary Ann. She lived over the river from downtown near the city of Oakland and was a total and utter bike nerd. She is one of the founders of <a href="https://bikeeastbay.org/" target="_blank">Bike East Bay. </a>She had hosted many touring cyclists and was just such a gem. Just so kind. On the night I arrived she ran a bath for me, filled it up with bubbles and Radox (good old Radox) and even played some French Cafe music for me on her computer. She introduced me to Pandora and great online music radio. I've tried to log on but failed so I think it may only be accessible to US computers. Below is a picture of the lunch she sent me off with to discover SF.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZs7-FTLac9Ofh2-a0w2AvTWFjHuV5oFiea9yQWjXL_qpWPeNsflDgb8UL5qb9Yb-3BOdQ4uQevCjkl5MbCe1cfP75Rxh1hdPbuRZODQvHfzSMBfV87Yj-m-ZehrYaQ6NqFfIkyhhHPoG/s1600/IMG_4909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZs7-FTLac9Ofh2-a0w2AvTWFjHuV5oFiea9yQWjXL_qpWPeNsflDgb8UL5qb9Yb-3BOdQ4uQevCjkl5MbCe1cfP75Rxh1hdPbuRZODQvHfzSMBfV87Yj-m-ZehrYaQ6NqFfIkyhhHPoG/s320/IMG_4909.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home made fritata, yogurt and hummus and chips. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8JZ5Ok6Iu6l97oOnXUSe4vnt_r7B9kFSR7snCxBpy5u53UW5tLGGZIKgH5IF_PwOMCatNf3bfnVwgETxp0chxQs-RJKacfqMoHDOJVAYOAV0PL4X7Q2oLdnpdkbaOd9SeAiw6qRO9j4m/s1600/IMG_4999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8JZ5Ok6Iu6l97oOnXUSe4vnt_r7B9kFSR7snCxBpy5u53UW5tLGGZIKgH5IF_PwOMCatNf3bfnVwgETxp0chxQs-RJKacfqMoHDOJVAYOAV0PL4X7Q2oLdnpdkbaOd9SeAiw6qRO9j4m/s320/IMG_4999.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann is an artist (and a retired nurse) and has painted her own<br />
mural on the wooden fence which surrounds her house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPUNstse8lQvvZ0Jisa94bA3jihD0rIH5iWFXbWdke8ZmTYQPqGgeCA34JwNC2tG3HkpJBQ6lddF7CyUlyHRN35FmhewGvQxIi1tBx-HMeP9DOwRMQGXJSKTWk6qV390C4WDINjF8wuMy/s1600/IMG_5019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPUNstse8lQvvZ0Jisa94bA3jihD0rIH5iWFXbWdke8ZmTYQPqGgeCA34JwNC2tG3HkpJBQ6lddF7CyUlyHRN35FmhewGvQxIi1tBx-HMeP9DOwRMQGXJSKTWk6qV390C4WDINjF8wuMy/s320/IMG_5019.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zee cat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAZjmJXUN4aaFVPPvRvZbFo-YBAAlyOI9p0OQImDuXcBlmwf1Sz8H_M4fG9WxdJfFYC9nx48XibpqoRqwLpFuB4OwgzQn2SUEAsiL37AVptIi6JWGrNxJU7vVeUHRzbqJLk3hqQOU_xuy/s1600/IMG_4995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAZjmJXUN4aaFVPPvRvZbFo-YBAAlyOI9p0OQImDuXcBlmwf1Sz8H_M4fG9WxdJfFYC9nx48XibpqoRqwLpFuB4OwgzQn2SUEAsiL37AVptIi6JWGrNxJU7vVeUHRzbqJLk3hqQOU_xuy/s320/IMG_4995.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann paints pictures depicting peopele on bikes.<br />
This particular painting had a real chain and lock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZhQY9htaFFEqrtKM7Ih39WNqhRMN60DcOAEeBGstQCSwhxBNh3f2tdEdnqqvrMXWRU1Eb6KuztsnQWqHe4kdVX2NQY9KPSV8S961BwlmLrmiVyGs4qIUBFWD5nrbeIsMUIfWKmB9_E9Y/s1600/IMG_4997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZhQY9htaFFEqrtKM7Ih39WNqhRMN60DcOAEeBGstQCSwhxBNh3f2tdEdnqqvrMXWRU1Eb6KuztsnQWqHe4kdVX2NQY9KPSV8S961BwlmLrmiVyGs4qIUBFWD5nrbeIsMUIfWKmB9_E9Y/s320/IMG_4997.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Mary Ann bike painting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGNpl6BBTc4AzTTeIOwtLHszJbtBReWhj6XfzY0yTcLL3JfcK8tgWuWoPyccU6aZnTPavAmBWPnD6xKYyhDxEsQ47G987DBDGeZOQuJG7jPgfiL3OmgfTXvvLuMZuqq5FtsB8wE5f0b2p/s1600/IMG_4998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGNpl6BBTc4AzTTeIOwtLHszJbtBReWhj6XfzY0yTcLL3JfcK8tgWuWoPyccU6aZnTPavAmBWPnD6xKYyhDxEsQ47G987DBDGeZOQuJG7jPgfiL3OmgfTXvvLuMZuqq5FtsB8wE5f0b2p/s320/IMG_4998.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As I said, the lovely lady is a bike nerd.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: left;">She also took me for a days cycle up to Golden Gate Park which literally links the city to the ocean. She knew all the best bike routes and showed me how to bring the bike on the BART (as opposed to the DART). It stands for the Bay Area Rapid Transport.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Gude1lzLxs/WBt5YPzDdBI/AAAAAAAAL3Y/-VZJApz1Kokcqh2WkGbcNS73YybvpXoxwCPcB/s1600/IMG_4875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Gude1lzLxs/WBt5YPzDdBI/AAAAAAAAL3Y/-VZJApz1Kokcqh2WkGbcNS73YybvpXoxwCPcB/s320/IMG_4875.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Mary Anne ahead of me on a lovely SF bike lane.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZNMctHldb6VPSM8t09Da_u1RgldZgAFZq3_-rZRhm75e3HnotmKGAUJaVdT8glcDdO7A9e0hEYe5tNIF692GoJ9KxVFI7qdhB5_tFMqM65J8XUVAiR0ZIsu_bq4Gx50sKLanqM_5XTmo/s1600/IMG_5041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZNMctHldb6VPSM8t09Da_u1RgldZgAFZq3_-rZRhm75e3HnotmKGAUJaVdT8glcDdO7A9e0hEYe5tNIF692GoJ9KxVFI7qdhB5_tFMqM65J8XUVAiR0ZIsu_bq4Gx50sKLanqM_5XTmo/s320/IMG_5041.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherpa, fully loaded on the BART.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_GuXHrTmM-Y-7cp3MqA7FcEJhqOMSqymB45HO-hXdAkyPErikMOuSYirzE8V6lVjPU1nSOcc0C8aaW0qvUURC8L9TPCCRVU_m6Yh6148BQ5PWAErVmZbH2vlsv1_DQnErlAIViZfCIgu/s1600/IMG_5043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_GuXHrTmM-Y-7cp3MqA7FcEJhqOMSqymB45HO-hXdAkyPErikMOuSYirzE8V6lVjPU1nSOcc0C8aaW0qvUURC8L9TPCCRVU_m6Yh6148BQ5PWAErVmZbH2vlsv1_DQnErlAIViZfCIgu/s320/IMG_5043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every BART carriage has its own priority area for bikes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Hrft1L5p2lX7yu8i61iIWMv5C_2H-40IUMgQmFvkxVTSYCbYIIiJyJu9J3FDz0lXV9xlA2Ul0sfK7C1WpIR5NLlJFRrEXfmUPYCU37_P9RbuzeyvJEh5LcgrpJSKGiApcvbUc1mvSQ7g/s1600/me+by+mural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Hrft1L5p2lX7yu8i61iIWMv5C_2H-40IUMgQmFvkxVTSYCbYIIiJyJu9J3FDz0lXV9xlA2Ul0sfK7C1WpIR5NLlJFRrEXfmUPYCU37_P9RbuzeyvJEh5LcgrpJSKGiApcvbUc1mvSQ7g/s320/me+by+mural.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That beautiful mural has the 'victorians' in the background, (wooden houses built in the Victorian style<br />
the GG bridge and <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">a cyclist wearing earphones while riding. You have to love California.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">And then came the San Jose Bike Party. Mary Ann asked if I wanted to join, San Jose is about a one hour drive south of Oakland. To be honest, just being driven in a car is luxury enough at the moment to drive to San Jose. We packed up the two bikes in her van and headed south on the freeway to this...</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTIziWJJAPA_tK2oPHm0-LheFE3PKvmzy17LK_qhOz5lIVYU8MP-5AzBfam3IttQngpO6-zGsqKsZ6hT8vvRrJ5BVl1Bn4p7J9gAfix9Apmh7Eqbrjs7Jo7b8ym8R10uBKESBIHsxpfm3/s1600/bike+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTIziWJJAPA_tK2oPHm0-LheFE3PKvmzy17LK_qhOz5lIVYU8MP-5AzBfam3IttQngpO6-zGsqKsZ6hT8vvRrJ5BVl1Bn4p7J9gAfix9Apmh7Eqbrjs7Jo7b8ym8R10uBKESBIHsxpfm3/s320/bike+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some great bikes altogether.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uhkLwxqhc5cK_MAwyDrctw2HCerm1guPCJ8JFXlBsCAwfggj8nsG8a-bCLBKyEkvnPcz52HYKn3xwfQA5z0jrzeSyDmCAe_OvJP95UCMfZrp4lgij1NocyH65T154ZMPDuhf4zrfQnmZ/s1600/bike+party+SJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uhkLwxqhc5cK_MAwyDrctw2HCerm1guPCJ8JFXlBsCAwfggj8nsG8a-bCLBKyEkvnPcz52HYKn3xwfQA5z0jrzeSyDmCAe_OvJP95UCMfZrp4lgij1NocyH65T154ZMPDuhf4zrfQnmZ/s320/bike+party+SJ.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Mary Ann and roughly 2000 other bikes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIC0vuL2d23cldQhSmz49NlRHUrjzpw_Ipmd7yaDhajdUFr7tg5-NkSUj4XPgH7PqcmqxwXrMvl5GfKpWxmPQuIY0UfWorK5j88StsKzEHi6wv9vK_sbKr1GRGpVKbF84-6ikUXBXZX3Pg/s1600/IMG_4983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIC0vuL2d23cldQhSmz49NlRHUrjzpw_Ipmd7yaDhajdUFr7tg5-NkSUj4XPgH7PqcmqxwXrMvl5GfKpWxmPQuIY0UfWorK5j88StsKzEHi6wv9vK_sbKr1GRGpVKbF84-6ikUXBXZX3Pg/s320/IMG_4983.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Bikes of every shape and size join San Jose's Bike Party on the 3rd Friday of every month.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP8lB1NsOJs4QKSVLL2iyJcBHKVeiucCEUKG3wp8mcsngrLD-m_vsCtHI8SAD9TQZOXDwG471QlFHaA1wucapoAbPixMa3nNgYM6fh2vKNttKA3V0hR9M1L2nzApulCQECHdO0JKOF8qh/s1600/bike+party+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP8lB1NsOJs4QKSVLL2iyJcBHKVeiucCEUKG3wp8mcsngrLD-m_vsCtHI8SAD9TQZOXDwG471QlFHaA1wucapoAbPixMa3nNgYM6fh2vKNttKA3V0hR9M1L2nzApulCQECHdO0JKOF8qh/s320/bike+party+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An example of one of the music trailers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young and old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqUHhFPoqGV6lHt25lUTUsDAREb6VzzHqe5MPuatIA-DPfyJEZNdL_OYdXxVTe6X-Na5HKoYXouz7kZn65utfOTxaK_uo_jzei5G5stMKHR928H9L2bsu5mHfHHhUV-Ly98HB5MAzbkJr/s1600/IMG_4963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqUHhFPoqGV6lHt25lUTUsDAREb6VzzHqe5MPuatIA-DPfyJEZNdL_OYdXxVTe6X-Na5HKoYXouz7kZn65utfOTxaK_uo_jzei5G5stMKHR928H9L2bsu5mHfHHhUV-Ly98HB5MAzbkJr/s320/IMG_4963.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anything that lights you up will do.</td></tr>
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In California you can go to a Bike Party every single Friday night. Four cities in California have a monthly Bike Party. It was an idea which started in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BikePartySacramento/" target="_blank">Sacramento</a>, the capital of the state of California. The idea is the cyclists come along, dress themselves and their bikes up with lights and ride off chatting and laughing and drinking beer. The Bike Party I took part in in San Jose, has been running for nine years. On the night I joined they had roughly 2000 riders.<br />
<br />
The ride began at 20.00 and as we rode, with speakers on trailers towed behind bikes blaring with music, along the 20 mile route, cars honked their horns, kids waved from the gardens of houses and shouted 'San Jose Bike Party'. We all then roared back 'San Jose Bike Party'. Cars pulled in, rolled down their windows and shouted 'San Jose Bike Party'. It was one of the most euphoric atmospheres I have ever experienced. There was so many of us and we were travelling so slowly and all other traffic just had to stop and get out of our way. Many people stood out in their gardens with their kids waving and taking pictures and videos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQy6SNqaqrkVeFO0gldTRGGDcCAcDqb-8w4p8GFh5-pkMgr3JCBcBL3cFiqSKabeFUbskI1p0ecmQaCR1qYMjmbEg36CdofzkY-98_cMMEhpsW_Eitaz0Sp5TAYEMkvgbECeAGCEzEbclU/s1600/IMG_4956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQy6SNqaqrkVeFO0gldTRGGDcCAcDqb-8w4p8GFh5-pkMgr3JCBcBL3cFiqSKabeFUbskI1p0ecmQaCR1qYMjmbEg36CdofzkY-98_cMMEhpsW_Eitaz0Sp5TAYEMkvgbECeAGCEzEbclU/s320/IMG_4956.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anything that lights up the bike will also do.</td></tr>
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As someone who believes strongly in bikes taking their rightful place again on our roads - I was of course, in my element. There were two stops along the 20 mile route. These stops were basically massive open air discos. People danced and bought hot dogs and beer and partied and blue bubbles. As you do. The ride ended back in the original car park where it had started at about midnight. What an experience. Amazing. Thanks Mary Ann.<br />
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<b>Some stats of the tour:</b><br />
Miles cycled: 1710 (2813 kms)<br />
Nights spent camping: 23<br />
Night spent with Warm Showers hosts: 14<br />
Average daily spend: €11.97<br />
Punctures: 2<br />
Bike replacements: Cassette, chain, housing for gear cable<br />
<br />
<b>Listening to:</b><br />
This American Life podcast. This particular show brought a tear to my eye. If anyone reading has lost someone close to them, has a spare 30 mins and wants to hear a beautiful piece of radio have a listen <a href="https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/597/transcript" target="_blank">here</a>. Click on the link for the audio.<br />
<br />
My friend Tania B also gave me a few tips on new podcasts. So I'm now fully loaded up on a whole host of podcasts from <b>BBC 4</b>, The <b>Irish Times Women's Podcast</b>, <b>99% invisible</b>, The<b> New Yorker Radio Hour</b> and thanks to Niamh McN for suggesting <b>Guardian Books</b>.<br />
<br />
<b>Reading:</b><br />
Blogs by solo female cycle tourers <a href="http://thatemilychappell.com/" target="_blank">Emily Chappell </a>and <a href="http://www.athousandturns.net/" target="_blank">Anna</a>. And Alastair Humphreys' 'Thunder and Sunshine'. I'm trying to read this one as slowly as possible. I usually keep it to savour for when I'm alone in my tent and wild camping somewhere random, where I'm feeling a little vulnerable. He gives me a kind of courage to say I shouldn't be afraid of the dark. And I relax and fall asleep.<br />
<br /></div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-65921304502672137972016-11-03T14:23:00.001-07:002016-11-03T14:55:58.376-07:00Approaching San Francisco (SF)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRrJV5I7zA-JuEXBNZcYEWC7AWOezadbHlyoflI2XYUdlVSS2DYFs1d7e0eO5piIMhYHEjhsWn916APSFkU9hyKfyFs_6GVQf9FrkfCSlOcJ9nznwmteJoJrR3oBcnanlS-HiMDtr6CBI/s1600/IMG_4756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRrJV5I7zA-JuEXBNZcYEWC7AWOezadbHlyoflI2XYUdlVSS2DYFs1d7e0eO5piIMhYHEjhsWn916APSFkU9hyKfyFs_6GVQf9FrkfCSlOcJ9nznwmteJoJrR3oBcnanlS-HiMDtr6CBI/s320/IMG_4756.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Golden Gate bridge. A real highlight of the trip.</td></tr>
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Cycling over the Golden Gate bridge was a real highlight of the trip so far. I had finally arrived in San Francisco. I had never been before. My friend Janey asked what song was I singing as I crossed. To be honest it was really windy so I was actually hanging on for dear life. And trying not to knock down some of the hundreds of tourists with their selfie sticks. After a lot of rain, me and my wet tent parked ourselves at a lovely old hostel on the Marin Headlands. It's off season, so the hostel was quiet and I totally took over the whole basement with my tent, sleeping bags, soaking shoes, mats, dry bags etc. Heaven.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random grocery store on route to SF with a piano, <br />
just tucked in between the crisps and cokes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5s_ciKIw9phPKEE1N2e2WLh0AORNpa9V6rr3OAOtI1ZQUOHVzU9WqxSl4OpWn_tPAhtRLvs3lFkMYc5u2V2xNf3HuMaxLwapxoQ6VMfEwrQzE3qcVMf_3iW04WieewGz4cE-dHdQ1qdWW/s1600/IMG_4678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5s_ciKIw9phPKEE1N2e2WLh0AORNpa9V6rr3OAOtI1ZQUOHVzU9WqxSl4OpWn_tPAhtRLvs3lFkMYc5u2V2xNf3HuMaxLwapxoQ6VMfEwrQzE3qcVMf_3iW04WieewGz4cE-dHdQ1qdWW/s320/IMG_4678.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My stove died in one of the campsites approaching SF. So I borrowed one <br />
of these fancy new Jet Boil thingys. The trowel/spoon is a good fit don't you think?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhHBsOWlMCX_wA6w15cOWZmxhra0ZvEGlHXZIZaIJs-Hmr_HwI0NRBbbBblB2VZHDLcxzk3-9VPJg4tGwjbjmyR9qgpDPPrQJRz7LtQ4Gbsc89-4kPy69Qn_GU0jTVFE3Z74NSgvZP9Jj/s1600/IMG_4712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhHBsOWlMCX_wA6w15cOWZmxhra0ZvEGlHXZIZaIJs-Hmr_HwI0NRBbbBblB2VZHDLcxzk3-9VPJg4tGwjbjmyR9qgpDPPrQJRz7LtQ4Gbsc89-4kPy69Qn_GU0jTVFE3Z74NSgvZP9Jj/s320/IMG_4712.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have to cycle through a long tunnel to get to the lovely Marin Headlands.<br />
Like load of other tunnel along the route, cyclists just press the button before entering the tunnel, so the cars<br />
know there are cyclists inside. </td></tr>
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I was very very fortunate to bump into as close as thing as you'll get on the road to a guardian angel in a hostel on the Marin Headlands. Her name is Sarah Burch. She blogs under honoringmycompass.com. When I met her she was working for the <a href="https://www.adventurecycling.org/" target="_blank">ACA </a>and in the middle of guiding about 10 paying guests along the route I was riding, on a supported basis i.e. they have a van and accommodation is booked each night. The ACA is a pretty important part of bike touring life in the US. It stands for Adventure Cycling Association. It has mapped 45,000 miles of bike routes in the US. If anyone reading this wants their next holiday to involve biking in the US (would highly recommend) then this is your man. Most cyclists I meet are using ACA maps to guide them down the Pacific Coast route.<br />
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Once Sarah heard what mischief I was up to she immediately contacted her friend Jill in Santa Barbara. She emailed Jill and suggested Jill host me when I passed through SB. Within about five milliseconds the pair of them had arranged for me to stay with Jill and also to give Sarah a bag of 'stuff' that I didn't particularly need over the next two weeks. So off Sarah drove in her van the following morning with about 6kgs of 'stuff' including my laptop. They said I'd really notice the difference climbing up the Big Sur, a national park a couple of hundred miles south of SF. As I said, an angel. And I did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTykC1n4tHBTU6va2m-0SKmdZDY6yrKSU2JN8rrYE5aW9nPTE3nRF1PS2JVN32JfDnUSyF6vKqlFLrAQmB8tjvmt96hyZido9tUxZuzij3pmfpf40airsyCYu_TJ2RFqMrkdQ70Fh8G_S/s1600/IMG_4717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTykC1n4tHBTU6va2m-0SKmdZDY6yrKSU2JN8rrYE5aW9nPTE3nRF1PS2JVN32JfDnUSyF6vKqlFLrAQmB8tjvmt96hyZido9tUxZuzij3pmfpf40airsyCYu_TJ2RFqMrkdQ70Fh8G_S/s320/IMG_4717.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Sarah. </td></tr>
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Alex was also staying at the hostel. He is from Germany and has just rode in from Alaska. On a titanium bike. Bike nerds reading this (i.e. Fergus/Julian) should zoom in. He has a Rohlhoff hub like gadget in between his pedals... and a the axis of his back wheel. He is blogging under boundlessbiker.com and he a great photographer!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVb3hXOyUO_T0ndHO5drk5LaDwoWYBV5t0VPXKTqs2zt7wgHSt6ijE5LkoawfZyX1zIBVoviNAhIhvAVLnw226ei9493NE3Y0prM2K4J9RNUate1nh5d8gkYoqiLVQbd3YdnRzlDcUwak/s1600/IMG_4718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVb3hXOyUO_T0ndHO5drk5LaDwoWYBV5t0VPXKTqs2zt7wgHSt6ijE5LkoawfZyX1zIBVoviNAhIhvAVLnw226ei9493NE3Y0prM2K4J9RNUate1nh5d8gkYoqiLVQbd3YdnRzlDcUwak/s320/IMG_4718.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Alex. </td></tr>
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And last but not least I met these two lovely ladies in the hostel. Suzanne (middle) is a writer and big fan of Ireland and John O'Donoghue's writing in particular. She blogs under creativitygoeswild.com. She was so convincing that I actually downloaded Anam Cara onto my Kindle. Kerri (left) well let's just say she's a pretty hardcore athlete from Melbourne who came to the US to ride the Sierra Cascades route... a much tougher route than the one I'm on. It also goes from north to south, border to border, just slightly more inland. If interested have a look <a href="https://www.adventurecycling.org/routes-and-maps/adventure-cycling-route-network/sierra-cascades/" target="_blank">here</a>. I had met Kerri a few days previously at a campsite so it was lovely to meet a somewhat familiar face. The 3 generations of travelling ladies got on like a house on fire. And we spent hours putting the world to rights.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF-iurZhn4wx3P33MWP0gBnUuwtZ9r-zOxHhDIpfnHSRw5OAIpi7LIy-J92nz3aqAx1eZhtw82VmUZTenrULTF81nteAwX6IrsHehTmY-MqERi4LD1QvqNBSmGFtKdagv0m104_04DElr/s1600/IMG_4772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF-iurZhn4wx3P33MWP0gBnUuwtZ9r-zOxHhDIpfnHSRw5OAIpi7LIy-J92nz3aqAx1eZhtw82VmUZTenrULTF81nteAwX6IrsHehTmY-MqERi4LD1QvqNBSmGFtKdagv0m104_04DElr/s320/IMG_4772.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keri Anne McKenna from Melbourne and Suzanne Murray from San Francisco.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things were getting a little scarce this particular day.<br />
I didn't realise corn tortillas need to be toasted.<br />
Popping out the gas stove at lunch, sure it's no problem</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_BMFnfLZM0/WBuiUMRxSkI/AAAAAAAAL5s/sjlCOP5wyYU6ZZRAb9pX6_FTqO0h2eQwACPcB/s1600/IMG_4495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_BMFnfLZM0/WBuiUMRxSkI/AAAAAAAAL5s/sjlCOP5wyYU6ZZRAb9pX6_FTqO0h2eQwACPcB/s320/IMG_4495.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orla H are you impressed? I have not looked back since discovering the wonders<br />
of the hard boiled egg.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much rain approaching SF that the bike path had almost disappeared.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pumpkins, pumpkins everywhere.</td></tr>
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shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2060919102585749777.post-41597000725158190532016-10-16T22:11:00.007-07:002017-05-30T05:25:46.647-07:00Northern California<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The three amigos cross the border together</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Cycling through the Californian redwood forests ranks right up there with cycling through the gorges of Morocco, in terms of spectacular days on the bike. I rode and camped within the Redwoods National Forest for 3-4 days, one day cycling 40 miles on a road called the Avenue of the Giants. The roads were all freshly tarmac'ed - if that is a verb. And the traffic was quiet. It's off season.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Roads so quiet I could leave the bike sitting in</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Making coffee for breakfast</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">12 hardboiled eggs in one pot was a record</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">After cycling for almost a week together both Rob and Mike sped off into the horizon. I was probably no more than half a day alone on the road when Hilary from Vancouver with her green panniers popped out of somewhere... and we rode and camped together for a few days. She calls herself a 'bike activist' so we had great chats about social inclusion via the bicycle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">She volunteers each year in New Orleans where there are some long term post hurricane Caitriona project still ongoing. She talked of trying to promote a bicycle culture among black communities where a bike is seen as a poor mans mode of transport. I found her really interesting. She gave me a high viz band to wear on the narrow roads ahead. Thanks Hilary.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">This is Hilary. She too had bright green Ortlieb panniers.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Whereas Washington State and Oregon are both just jammers with trees, northern California has farmland. But it's farmland of cows and sheep on rugged dry terrain, as opposed to grazing on green pastures. I passed many pumpkin patches - Americans seem very keen to dress up their houses well in time for Halloween. I have also seen a herd of wild elk, smelled a few dead skunks on the roads and bumped into way too many racoons. They have been hovering around the food boxes at night at the campsites. They have no shame. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">A herd of elk</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Two racoons hanging out near my food box</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9A1vkUXkRA1s2RllzRMTNVPUxZ5GMB2bL1llVPt6j4-B8w35jIkQXa-nc0PxkiOVJj7WdhekZXb6_zpqMLCTgZ9cxdauDn75sLMAk7h6-iFGKGy5ffSzBwltvNe05NK8l5jyvydcWkrcc/s1600/IMG_4682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9A1vkUXkRA1s2RllzRMTNVPUxZ5GMB2bL1llVPt6j4-B8w35jIkQXa-nc0PxkiOVJj7WdhekZXb6_zpqMLCTgZ9cxdauDn75sLMAk7h6-iFGKGy5ffSzBwltvNe05NK8l5jyvydcWkrcc/s400/IMG_4682.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">God dam racoons stole my oats from inside the food box and ripped it open with their claws.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">California started out being nice and sunny and I was so glad that the wet soggy camping days of Oregon were over. But little did I know what lay waiting. While a hurricane was blowing off the East coast of the US near Florida we were just getting lashed on in northern California. Saturday October 16th 2016 will be remembered for being one of those days which belongs to Connemara in February and not on the Californian coast in October. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The thing is.. if you were in Connemara in February and had planned on going cycling, you would just give up, have a long hot shower and go to the pub to watch some rugby and have a pint or two of Guinness. One of those days where the headwind is so strong you have to pedal downhill... and where the crosswind is so strong coming in from the shore that you have to have the brakes fully on when going downhill or else you will be blown over. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">I got all excited taking out the solar panels.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">A great day to do a bit of washing.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">After these first few days of solar panels and redwood trees came the rain. When I look at the map ahead of me I see words like Santa Barbara, Long Beach and Monterrey. Surely it will be sunny and warm in Southern California??</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How on earth should I pack this soggy mess?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The salty fog coming in off the ocean tastes of salt</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr0y1_GbxcsZVz9519R7XiT7voDMZsXh7Q7Jaxy7pyASOXN3nHxRQrIMTnuOcL-Wwyu6XJHE1u6dHQPiVAkIQpmrrtl9EksDuN-r8StDBaunbx84MyaVIJpYSQlWCY39J7KaP5PfJ324J/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr0y1_GbxcsZVz9519R7XiT7voDMZsXh7Q7Jaxy7pyASOXN3nHxRQrIMTnuOcL-Wwyu6XJHE1u6dHQPiVAkIQpmrrtl9EksDuN-r8StDBaunbx84MyaVIJpYSQlWCY39J7KaP5PfJ324J/s400/IMG_4671.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">One of many cook-ups in the bathrooms of the State Park campsites</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicMWBSYhadtltehX9AyC9DEVB6fezorLiXBVp5unBWH6LtiCmjMLLyMuncgITgIuMRxZqzXEa6gy23GxENFjNEM5uH8_RXYPsnlg2jcI2kH2upR9y7OIsfFKjnAy1Cj7TKnS-RlFvtzcy/s1600/IMG_4674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicMWBSYhadtltehX9AyC9DEVB6fezorLiXBVp5unBWH6LtiCmjMLLyMuncgITgIuMRxZqzXEa6gy23GxENFjNEM5uH8_RXYPsnlg2jcI2kH2upR9y7OIsfFKjnAy1Cj7TKnS-RlFvtzcy/s400/IMG_4674.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">I have to say that this was a first. Having cooked up my usual lentil, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">spud and carrot stew, I made myself a hot chocolate. The only place </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">to sit in the campsite bathroom was obviously the toilet</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">But even though you are wet and tired, the same grime has been under your fingernails for a week, you haven't showered in three days and your bags weigh a few kgs more simply because everything inside them is soaking... the road still throws you up some laughs. Len is from LA and is cycling border to border - like so many. </span></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></o:p></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">We met at a campsite and travelled together for two days. His family is Mexican so he even put chili on the apples that we picked off the trees at the side of the road. He was unable to pass a bakery without purchasing a cinnamon roll or bread and butter pudding and blueberry slice (yum) or chocolate chip cookie. And he insisted on sharing EVERYTHING with me. </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeBNNuDyHtUSfxp8CM8QPrqgtMcjdcLoQhdwrwt-T5datf2ldn1ogLdvCJ8lhiYeSJG9po50mOuBhAX8_15fUH3JX551NFYAtUWqYrpedevflyjkAezU8GB-nZ2qsfqHA1MHqRhzfuUkk/s1600/IMG_4627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeBNNuDyHtUSfxp8CM8QPrqgtMcjdcLoQhdwrwt-T5datf2ldn1ogLdvCJ8lhiYeSJG9po50mOuBhAX8_15fUH3JX551NFYAtUWqYrpedevflyjkAezU8GB-nZ2qsfqHA1MHqRhzfuUkk/s400/IMG_4627.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chili on apples, why not!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgf9e_2EsV2wTq9xz397_6g9apKcYyrbiWQFZ7_hXkH6URlNOlhgg3qDBRgMabXfIBih9vzkGxcScIbcfPFFqIXQG9m-ZyVRgCBSibcbE9gexhgYAtKwKNBT87wmyhBDk6EWMgYOI3IsP/s1600/IMG_4632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgf9e_2EsV2wTq9xz397_6g9apKcYyrbiWQFZ7_hXkH6URlNOlhgg3qDBRgMabXfIBih9vzkGxcScIbcfPFFqIXQG9m-ZyVRgCBSibcbE9gexhgYAtKwKNBT87wmyhBDk6EWMgYOI3IsP/s400/IMG_4632.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first bakery Len couldn't pass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmBogH1R_20tpfars3YtN49kwy5pdLPmq8AxrkkcrVP2kB7FiPg7XH-rzVgeYuog9Q_bvPSIZOkpacjtvmyttSV0P7XNGGGLGh0d1Bq6RK0cr5bIG9nb08gpLqo7gzWC3bH68nwhVoRa7/s1600/IMG_4636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmBogH1R_20tpfars3YtN49kwy5pdLPmq8AxrkkcrVP2kB7FiPg7XH-rzVgeYuog9Q_bvPSIZOkpacjtvmyttSV0P7XNGGGLGh0d1Bq6RK0cr5bIG9nb08gpLqo7gzWC3bH68nwhVoRa7/s400/IMG_4636.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first ever oyster. Len is a fine diner and bought us both oysters for lunch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Highlight:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">1. Riding through Redwoods Forest Nat Park<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">2. Getting out the solar panels</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">3. Finding out there are also $5 hiker biker sections
to the campsites<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Lowlight:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">1. Washed clothes sitting inside your panniers wet, because it's not dry enough to take them out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">2. The smell of dead roadkill skunk and vultures hovering around to eat the remains of the carcass.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Enjoyed
listening to:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">RTE documentary on One – Roger Casement and
his travels in the Congo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Some stats for this week:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Have cycled – 1202 miles (2000kms)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Punctures – 2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Camping at campsites – 16 nights<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Wild camping - 2 nights<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Warm Showers host houses – 7 nights</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Swims in the sea – still only 4<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Average daily spend on the trip so far – €13.21</span></div>
</div>
shellon2wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01724275510045071834noreply@blogger.com0