Unfortunately all the idling and putting along for hours in the rain the night before didn’t sit well with the bike, and it protested in the form of electrical problems with the brake lights, marker lights and signals being completely out. Originally we were supposed to be on the road early to cover the 305 kilometers to La Ventosa, a wind farm near Juchitan, Oaxaca, but the electric car didn’t get sufficient charge overnight at the hotel. As the car had to be charged longer, this delayed our departure to La Ventosa, which was fortuitous for me as I had a date with the bike.

From about 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. I worked on getting the electrical short sorted out. And it turned out to be a wild goose chase. Voltmeter in hand, I tested every possible connection from rear to front, but the damn short was always one step ahead of me. I finally traced the short to one piece of wire in the after-market marker lights and nailed it down. The wire was fine, no cuts, no kink or any dis-figuration but it was shorted internally. I sent Cynthia out to find fuses (I blew over 10 fuses testing different setups) and some small light bulbs for the dash indicators. Luckily, she had a friendly taxi driver with 30 years experience driving in Oaxaca, and he knew just the right shops to take her to.

As we are traveling with RGE for the time being, we are on a set schedule so depending on how things go, we don’t usually have much time in each area. With the delay, Cynthia was able to walk around the city admiring the beautiful architecture and taking pictures. Oaxaca is a colorful city, rich in indigenous culture and traditions and is declared Humanity’s Cultural Patrimony by UNESCO. Everywhere you look; there is something interesting to see from the architecture to the brightly colored clothing of the local Oaxacians. We have never seen so many bugs (VW bugs) as in México. They are like brightly colored skittles sprinkled on the streets, but one especially made a statement as you can see in the photo. So far, we have enjoyed México immensely. The varied terrain, the culture, the color, the people, the flavors have all made for a very enjoyable experience. Our only wish would be to have more time to soak in the richness of it all.

We finally departed Oaxaca around 8 p.m. for Juchitan de Zaragoza which is a town about 10 km from La Ventosa wind farm. Nearly 10 miles into our journey, I heard a knock when I grabbed the front brake and again when I tried to brake again. I crouched forward to see what was happening and to my horror, the right front brake caliper was hanging by one bolt and flapping in the wind. I stopped the bike under a street light and it happened to be right in front of a mechanic shop. I needed a 10mm bolt and they had one! I couldn’t believe how these bolts came loose as I’m a pretty heavy-handed guy. My buddy Joe always curses at me for over-tightening bolts and nuts, but this time I was puzzled. I put Lock-Tight on all the caliper bolts and got back on the road again. Thank God I needed a metric bolt as finding SAE bolts anywhere outside of US is nearly impossible (Harley Davidson people listen here).

Traveling in the dark prevented us from seeing the scenery, but the road was as twisty as it gets. The van and the SRzero were absolutely hopeless when it came to passing on curves so once again the GS850 proved to be invaluable. Radio in hand, I passed slow trucks on blind double lines and signaled back to the rest of the caravan to pass when it was safe. This went on well into the night as when we came out of the canyon, it was already three in the morning.

Everyone was tired so we split into two groups. One group went to the hotel to get some rest and the other group was supposed to carry on another 40km to the wind farm to put the car on charge. I ended up with the second group as Claudio wanted to film a little bit more. Just barely 10km out of town, the clutch cable broke again! I couldn’t believe my luck. Three breakdowns in less than 24 hours! I had a spare cable with me, but I was so exhausted that I didn’t even bother with changing it there. I put the bike in first gear, pulled in the clutch lever and started the bike. It jerked and rolled for a few seconds and fired right up. For the next hour and half, I rode the bike without clutch and no stopping (mostly going in circles) as we searched for the wind farm. After four dead-end roads, we finally found the place, and I parked the bike next to the car and crashed in the van. We didn’t get to the hotel until 6 a.m., and I started feeling very sick. High fever, runny nose and aching muscles capped off the festivity. Cynthia will take over from here as I got so sick I could barely move. Stay tuned.

We departed México City around 6 a.m. trying to beat the city traffic and hoping to arrive early in the afternoon to our destination in Oaxaca, almost 300 miles to the south. Leaving the city, there was an endless sea of concrete homes stretching as far as the eye could see into the hills on either side of the road. As we drove on, the concrete homes gave way into lush green hills blanketed in the cold mist. The sun finally came out and we made our way higher into the mountains on the Pan-American Hwy. The terrain in Mexico is varied. In less than two hours, we traveled through cactus-covered hills to high pine-covered ridges and back into tropical trees.  We were making good time and everyone was in good spirits about covering the 292 miles stretch to Oaxaca with spare time to explore the city.

But it’s been a never missing ritual that every time we get an early start, something goes wrong. We arrived in Oaxaca around 4:00 p.m to find the only road to the town shut down. The local bus companies were on strike and blocked off all the major streets of Oaxaca to protest the low bus fares. No amount of sweet talking and begging would persuade them move the buses, and we had no choice but to wait. Getting around the buses on the motorcycle was manageable, but the electric car and the van couldn’t move an inch. We decided to stay together and wait out the protest. For a long time, people were really civilized but as the rush hour neared, more and more angry voices came out and it got to a point that people were coming out with machetes in their hands and started to throw rocks and kicking the cars.

Things quickly got out of hands and the angry mob started to shake the buses and finally the bus drivers started to move one bus at a time. The tropical rain didn’t fail again, and as we sat somewhat patiently, we got soaked. From 4 o’clock to 7:30, we moved maybe a mile and we were no were near our reserved hotel.

I suggested to the RGE team to forget the Holiday Inn and just settle in a different hotel as all the roads were still closed to the city center, but they decided to push on. Oaxaca is a hilly city and with all the rains, and traffic, it was the last place I wanted to ride at night. At some point with all the rain, something on the bike shorted out and the tail light, brake light and signals went out completely. The constant idling in the traffic heated the motor to a point that shifting gears became almost impossible. I could feel the clutch cable snapping every time I pulled in the clutch, but the RGE team wouldn’t change course. We searched for the elusive Holiday Inn and drove in circles in dark for another 2 hours with no luck.

I had only met the RGE team less than ten days before, but I was so mad and tired that I started shouting at the stupid situation. We had passed many hotels in the past two hours, driving in rain, on 45 degrees hills and sleek cobblestone roads of Oaxaca, but they were determined to stay at the Holiday Inn and no place else. To me, there is a fine line between futility and persistence and we were crossing that line deliberately.

I finally asked for directions and luckily a kid who spoke English led us in his truck to our hotel. I was so pissed that Cynthia stayed a few feet away from me the rest of the night. The last thing I remember is the dinner with Claudio and Cynthia in a little Italian bistro and the rest is out of my conscious memory.

As I write this, it’s worth mentioning that Oaxaca was flooded under water because of the very same torrential rains 10 days after we passed through. Over 40 people died due to the floods and many are without homes now. So when I say it was raining, I don’t mean a drizzle, it was like the showerhead was on.

In two years, from 1519 to 1521, an ambitious, cruel, intelligent, determined and above all, gold hungry Spaniard named Hernan Cortés, took México by storm. Cortés did not only change North American history as we know it, he destroyed and demolished one of the most sophisticated civilizations, the Aztec empire or as I like to call them, the Mexica. (Mexica was the name they called themselves and was used for centuries. The Aztec name was made popular in the 18th century by Jesuit scholar, Francisco Javier Clavijero, and then by the single minded account of the conquest of México by William H. Prescott.)

The phrase that best describes Cortés’ conquest is “audacity”. It contains a hint of imagination, impudence, a capacity to perform the unexpected which differentiates it from mere bravery. He was an ordinary man, from a lesser nobility class, but he was decisive, flexible, quick in talk, skillful, daring in execution and full of threats in war.

The conquest of México is interesting to me not because a small group of adventurers won battles against a large static army. It’s interesting because it was a clash of two empires, equally powerful. They both were imaginative and inventive. Though different, they held many things sacred, they loved ceremonials, and they had conquered others. They both were cruel by any modern standards, but cultivated.

The 15th century Mexicans were well organized, well feared by their neighbors and hated by the same. Old México was very much like a state. Many conquistadors believed that their houses were superior to those of Spain. The upper class wore embroidered cloths. Their jewelry astonished the Europeans for years, and they provided universal education to boys. In the sixteen century, the Spaniards still used the roman system of numbering, but Mexicans used the decimal system. The Mexicans used the vigesimal method, as well as the Zero which made the calculation more accurate than it was possible in Europe. But they had one flaw: they believed in gods and that’s what Cortés used to break them down.

Charles V, the Emperor of Spain, was called the “Most Reliable Sword of Christianity” but as many scholars agree, he wasn’t a true believer, nor was Cortés. He used his Christianity as a tool to climb the ladders of hypocrisy, and he did it very well. He held many sermons and he preached the Lord like he was a chosen one. But he only wanted one thing, gold. The Spaniards had unbounded confidence in their own qualities, in the political wisdom of their imperial mission and spiritual superiority of the Catholic Church.

It is true that the Mexicans practiced in human sacrifices, but to justify the Spaniards actions who called the Mexican barbarians is preposterous. “O what great good fortune for the Indians is the coming of Spaniards,” the historian Cervantes de Salazar would write in 1554, “since they have passed from this unhappiness to their present blessed state.”

By 1521 Teotihuacán, the capital of the magnificent Mexica Empire fell under the sword of Cortés, and México today is as we know it. Yet again, thousands of lives were lost in the name of the good Lord and the fate of Montezuma is known by every school kid in the world.

After the conquest, Cortés sent a model silver canon to Charles V of Spain as a present. He named it “The Phoenix”. On it he had inscribed:

This was born without equal
I am without a second in serving you
You are without an equal in the world.

The visit to these temples was our farewell to México City. We’re leaving tomorrow for Oaxaca on the same road Cortés’ men traveled. Will it look remotely the same as they saw it? I doubt it.

We finally settled in Mexico City (at least for the next 3 days). Our mission for today was simple, in theory. Find spare front and rear tires for the bike. Searching online didn’t really help much, so we called the hotel and they gave us 3 places somewhat nearby to try. One place didn’t answer, another only had one of the tires. And the other didn’t have any.

Cynthia was manning the phone making the calls as my Spanish is more like Arnold Schwarzenegger trying to speak Japanese (maybe even worse). After making endless calls to businesses in the phone book, she found one place that had both the front and rear tire and a Honda dealership that had the rear tire at a better price and another dealer that had the front tire at a better price but not the rear. Aside from one Bridgestone tire, the only matching front and rear tires available in the right sizes for the Suzuki GS850 were Pirelli MT66.

I have always run dual sport tires on this bike because we simply have no idea what roads we’re going to encounter, and I personally like to go off the beaten path if possible. MT66 tires are just  bland road tires which I wasn’t hoping for, but we had no choice. I figured if we can’t find a decent tire in the biggest city in the continent, we’re probably not going to have too much luck further South. (Well, I was wrong. As I write this, we’ve found much better prices and selections in practically every country in Central America but Mexico.)

We got directions and headed out on our tire hunt. When we arrived at Motos De Calidad, our first American stunt was to tell the dealer, Carmelo Ruiz Garcia, about the competitors’ prices. Mr. Garcia ended up reducing the prices to match his competitors. Score!

You would think that purchasing tires would be a relatively straightforward task. However, we waited and waited and waited while the employees took phone calls and served customers in between looking for our tires. After all, it turned out that they didn’t have the rear tires as they had told us on the phone. We finally decided we would buy the front tires from them and go to the Honda dealer for the rear tires. I also decided to buy two sets of tires as I would need to change the current pair in about another 1000 miles, somewhere after getting past Guatemala. The dealer offered to call Honda and see if they had the tires and upon confirming that they did, offered to arrange for them to be delivered for us to the dealer.  This was great for us as that meant that we only had to drive to one more location, the bank, to get cash for our better rate on the tires. They told us to be back in an hour and a half.

We headed off to the bank down the road to get some cash. Once there, I was told that I had to belong to the bank to withdraw cash inside and could only get cash from the cash machine. The ATM machine was inside a little room with a glass door and you have to slide your bank card in the door to open it. It took me three tries to withdraw the pesos as apparently, you have to take cash out of your checking account and not the saving. With money in hand, we headed back to the dealer to wait for the tires to be delivered.

On the last traffic light, a city bus rear-ended us while we were completely stopped. I managed to keep the bike upright and thank god the damage was minimal. It hit us right on the corner of the right aluminum pannier and broke the mount. Luckily the stove fuel bottle was inside the hotel that day otherwise it would have blown up the pressurized can. Since then I relocated the fuel bottle to the front.

While waiting at the dealer I tried on nearly every helmet they had in the store. I wear an open-face helmet and I love it. I love the freedom it gives me, the taste of the bugs, the sharp needlelike sensation of cold rain, the frozen cheeks in snow… actually I don’t even know why I wear an open face helmet.  It’s the rainy season here and it rains and rains and rains… and then it rains some more. I decided that I was tired of getting rain on my face, and Cynthia was tired of me borrowing her full-face helmet at the first sign of rain. So I ended up getting a nice Italian Flip-Up modular helmet made by Nolan Group. It’s not available in the States, but it’s a very nice helmet. Better yet, it was only $140. I’m protected for the next city bus who tries to run us over.

By the end of the day we had two sets of tires and a helmet. I have to say that the dealer who helped us went above and beyond with reducing the price for the tires and then arranging their delivery to us. All told, our mission took from 11 am to 7:30 p.m. Thank God we had a “free” day from traveling on the road to take care of this important little bit of housekeeping.

Today Mr. Murphy had another plan for us as everything that could go wrong, went wrong! We didn’t head out of San Luis Potosi until around 3 pm as the electric car apparently didn’t get fully charged as one of the circuit breakers had switched off at some point during the night so the car had to charge more during the day to make the trip to Mexico City. As we were caravanning out of the city, the support van made a left turn into an alley and indicated for the electric car and our motorcycle to do a U-turn. As I followed the electric car, I didn’t realize that there was a Federal Police sitting behind me at the stoplight. He turned on his lights and started to scream in the bullhorn in Spanish to pull me over (like I knew what the hell he was saying) and promptly started reading me the riot act! Thankfully Cynthia’s fast-talking in Spanish got me off with just an evil eye and stern warning to “Respect the signs!”

Afternoon rains came again without fail, and somehow when we stopped to put on rain gear and switch helmets so that I could wear Cynthia’s full-face helmet, we didn’t see whether or not the van and electric car passed us. We stayed by the roadside waiting a good 30 minutes and then decided to go on. By then it was dark. No sooner were we back on the road than we encountered another toll station. This is where things got interesting. When we crossed into México, I didn’t bother to bring any cash with me, and all I had was about a $100. I figured I would get money out of ATM in México but the past few days were so hectic that I completely forgot to do so. The toll was 5 dollars but all I had was $1.50 in cold hard cash. Cynthia begged for the guy to let us go through and promised we would wait by the road for the electric car and the van to come through so that they could pay for the rest of our toll. We pulled off by the roadside to wait as huge trucks careened on by. After another 30 minutes or so it was apparent that either the rest of the caravan had already gone on through or they were broken down somewhere behind us.

It was pitch black, cold, raining in sheets, and we were still about 100 miles from Mexico City.  I wasn’t relishing driving aimlessly in the dark not knowing where we were going. My plan was to find the closest hotel and stop for the night, but first we had to pay the toll if we wanted to move another inch as they were watching us like hawks. We started digging in every pocket and every box to scrape up just enough change in US pennies, nickels and dimes to pay the rest of the toll but we were still short a full dollar. I have a lucky silver dollar that I’ve had for 17 years which I take with me everywhere. With much regret, I handed it to Cynthia to pay up the man as that was our only salvation. Cynthia paid the toll and we continued on our way.  As we were running out of fuel, we stopped at the next gas station to find team hanging out there! Apparently, the electric car had run out of charge again and so for the next 4-6 hours we sat around in the gas station while the car charged up.  Thankfully they had a deli counter where they made delicious Tortas (Mexican sandwich) to order. After a full belly and a beer or two at the station, Cynthia surprised me by procuring my lucky silver dollar. Somehow she managed to get us through without giving up my silver dollar after all. That was enough to put a smile on my face for the rest of the night.

At 3 a.m. the car was charged enough to continue so we packed up once more to enter the biggest city in the Americas in a torrential rain and pitch black skies. You can see the lights of México City from miles away and the traffic starts long before reaching the city itself. Struggling to stay awake, we rode into the city at 5 a.m. as the local food vendors were preparing breakfast on the roadside. The rain stopped, the sun started to come out and we were safe at last.

We set the alarm clock to get out of Monclova early in the morning but my body wasn’t cooperating. Cynthia finally managed to drag me out of bed around 10 am, and when I called the guys, it turned out that a shock absorber on the SRzero electric car has broken off and so the team wasn’t leaving until around 2:00 p.m. from Mario’s Inn just outside of Saltillo. We packed up and set off down the road to find the team. Thankfully the weather was milder today but still hot, and the dry deserts of México were giving way to more tropical landscape. 200km later, we found the electric car and RGE guys waiting for us at the hotel. The RGE team is comprised of Claudio Von Planta (documentary filmmaker), Jonathan Richards (cameraman/editor) and the five engineering students from imperial college of London: Toby Schulz, Andy Hadland, Alex Schey, Clemens Lorf, and Nick Sauer. Two guys usually sit in the SRzero, Cynthia and Claudio would take turns riding with me, and the rest would follow in an E-350 Ford Van for support and to haul the rest of the gear and tools. You can see more about the RGE project at www.racinggreenendurance.com

We rode over 3200km from Northern Montana to middle of México to catch up with them and we succeeded at last. Introductions were made all around amidst video cameras filming our arrival, and then we loaded some of our gear into the van to make room for Claudio on back of the bike so he can start filming.

I could call myself an experienced motorcyclists after thousands of miles of riding in virtually any weather and road condition, but I was still quite apprehensive of the task ahead of me: riding an 800 pound motorcycle with 300+lbs of human cargo on it down the not-too motorcycle friendly roads of Latin America. Riding two-up is challenging at best but manageable as long as your pillion is not moving too much and follows the rhythm of the ride.

Riding with Claudio would automatically cancel out all the cardinal rules of riding as he planned to film the SRzero from the bike with a handheld video camera (5lb professional camera) mounted on a tripod. He would be hanging down from the side and back with no prior warning and my job was to ride close to the subject and maintain a steady speed while he filmed. No easy task by any means.

Without further ado, Claudio and I got set up on the bike and the whole convoy headed out for the 467 kilometer long journey to San Luis Potosi in the heart of México.

As I anticipated, riding two up and filming was hard work. I soon realized that I have to counterbalance every move and be ready for anything. It was scary at first seeing Claudio hanging down from the side on the curves but I learned not to look down and keep my eyes on the road. A couple of hours of practicing different methods finally put my mind at ease and the weird configuration soon became a natural rhythm.

The routine practice is that we pass the car and Claudio turns back as I slow down and let the car overtake us. Then I ride as close as possible and let him take the close-up shots on either side. Finally, we set off and leave the car behind to find a high section of the road or a bridge to take some tri-pod shots. Once we get all these shots, we look for interesting landscapes, people, dead animals…

Getting to know Claudio von Planta himself was worth the trip alone. At age 48 Claudio is arguably the most talented and respected adventure (for lack of better words) videographer and documentary filmmaker of our time. Educated in Zurich on Political Science, he has spent over 20 years pursuing his passion, investigative journalism and filming. From the mountains of Afghanistan to tropical rainforests of New Guinea, he has a story with footage to back it up.

He has spent most of his professional life in conflicts zones around the world, bringing hard-to-beat footage to major TV stations including the first ever televised interview with Osama Bin Laden, and producing many award-winning documentaries on global issues such as Rape Trade and Aids. He speaks German, French and English fluently, and other languages such as Brazilian Portuguese. The ever-popular TV series of Long Way Round and Long Way Down are excellent works, but to judge Claudio’s talent and determination based on these two series alone is an underestimation.

It took us all day to cover the miles and before we knew it, I had the firsthand experience of driving in México after dark. The highways are generally good, but what’s on the highways is the main concern. There are thousands of stray dogs everywhere with nothing better to do than to chase motorcycles. The locals tie up their livestock to the side of the road to graze on the green grass, and it’s not unusual for the cows and donkeys to be crossing the road unattended. Due to these circumstances, driving at night is not advisable, but we had no choice and had to make our destination at San Luis Potosi.

After getting lost a few times in the SLP city center, we finally reunited with the rest of the crew at the hotel. There was a bit of a problem getting the electric car into the parking garage as it didn’t have enough clearance for the grade of the entryway ramp. Despite multiple attempts at makeshift adjustments the car was not able to go down the steep ramp of the garage. Finally they found another parking garage to park in where they could charge the car overnight and we settled in for the night. Next: Journey to Mexico City, the second largest city in the world (at night of course)!

Despite not crossing into the Mexican border town of Piedras Negras until mid-afternoon, we had a remarkably uneventful border crossing. No passport check, no search and a big smile from the border patrol made our day. Wanting to keep things that way, I decided to get out of the border town straight away and do our customs and registration paperwork somewhere else but Cynthia kept yelling out of her full face helmet that we had to stop to do the paperwork in town. She kept on relaying all the information she heard  regarding Mexico and the dangers of travelling there and I was getting annoyed. I was tired, hungry, and had virtually no sleep for 3 days, so I told her she can walk if she doesn’t stay quiet. That did the trick. We rode out of town without stopping for at least 20 miles and stopped to ask some policemen where to go and they joked that we actually came to them instead of them stopping us and gave us directions to La Garita, the custom and vehicle control office to take care of our paperwork.

From the very start of our time in Mexico we met friendly and helpful people. At the La Garita, a local, Dr. Luis Farias approached us to ask about our trip. He turned out to be a part of Amoden, one of the largest motorcycle clubs in Northern Mexico and kindly offered to arrange accommodations for us in Saltillo and show us around. We explained that we had to be on the same travel schedule as the rest of the Racing Green Endurance team, but were grateful for such a friendly welcome and his kind offer. We also met Rodolfo Velz and his family who recommended that due to the time, we would do better to shoot for Monclova instead of Saltillo to avoid traveling after dark. They also kindly offered to put us up for the night if we couldn’t find a place. There was no boogie man in México, no gun toting gang and no one who treated us with anything but respect and friendliness.

We knew that the team was planning to stop in Saltillo, Coahuila for the night but that stopping in Monclova by dark would be safer. Besides we were completely spent from being on the go for two days with no sleep and little water. The heat was killing us to boot. Temperatures were in 100’s and we were beyond dripping with sweat. It felt like we were shrink-wrapped and stuck in a sauna. All of our clothes and motorcycle gear were damp and sticking to us. Time to rest.

Mexico is a beautiful country. We decided to go on toll roads (Cuotas) as we were warned that the free roads (Libre) were ungodly dangerous and if we ever dared to go on them, we would suffer an agonizing death! So $8 later, we were cruising along on the toll road to Monclova but one gas stop and a drink later, somehow we ended up on the regular highways of Coahuila. To be frank, the toll roads are no different than the regular roads. They are all excellent and beside, venturing off the toll roads gives the opportunity to see the real México since it goes through the little town and villages along the way.

Speed bumps in México are legendary. They are called Topez and they are a mile high and hard hitting. They are mostly well signed or if there’s no sign, you can see them coming as everyone else slow down to a crawl to go over these giants. The biggest road problem is the potholes and they are not just native to free highways, they are on the toll roads as well with no warning. The Mexican drivers are excellent drivers. And courteous too. I don’t remember a time that a slow moving vehicle didn’t go out of his way to give us room to pass. Even the cars on the other lane would go to the shoulder to make room for us. I’m loving it here.

At 7:30 pm, we finally reached Monclova and wandered around trying to find a hotel where most importantly the bike would be safe. The first place we encountered was a ritzy hotel that was completely sold out. The manager, Gorge Carballal came out and helped us with some directions. In the meantime, some friendly guests started talking to us and taking pictures. We eventually settled into a hotel around the corner from the main strip which surprisingly had about every American brand store and restaurant you could imagine: Auto Zone, Burger King, Chili’s, you name it, it was there. I was starving and upon the recommendation of the hotel, was pleased to end up with one of the best burgers in my life. They assisted with ordering from one of the few places that was still open, and although I almost never get take-out, was so exhausted from riding for two days on no sleep, that this called for an exception. As I walked out of my room, I saw two Mexican guys hovering around the bike and long story short, we got to talk and drank beer out of a cooler in the back of their truck to cap of the amazing welcome.  We like México. Don’t believe a word you hear on the news, it’s no Baghdad. Next: Monclova to Saltillo and meeting the rest of the gang.