We resumed the Her Odyssey Route on January 3, 2022. Picking up bikepacking where we had left off in March 2020.

“Jorche y Paco son muy chambeador!”

They were my heroes of Aguascalientes when we crash landed here in March 2020. When I walked back through the door in December 2021, speaking his name, he seemed chuffed. I lavished compliments, that I would not trust my weary old steed, whom I call ‘La Cucaracha‘ to anyone else in the city. He is a hard and focused worker, we went over what the bike needed; tune up and cable and housing changes, brakes checked, check if the chain needs changed. We had brought a few extra bike pieces from the US which are hard to get as gifts and had to insist he take them, even though he had adamantly refused to receive any form of payment at any juncture.

We were just on the cusp of New Years and it registered only as a slight tick on his face and a sense that he was holding his breath when he asked if we needed it done before the holiday. YES! We were in a hurry, I had told the people of the internet we would be rolling by New Years. I had imaginary appointments to keep! It was an invitation to take a step back, from my own hurry and realize what I was asking of him. Cutting in to time spent celebrating with his friends and family. I realized, I could step back from my schedule expectations. A tiny echo from the very first days of this Odyssey, when all my finely laid plans had to be thrown out the window to forge forward. In so doing, to taste the wealth which arises from holding space for others’ experiences alongside your own.

I told him if it was too much too hurried, we could wait until after New Years to depart, that his schedule mattered just as much as mine. His shoulders slumped with relief and a huge grin broke across his face. Laborers down here will never offer you their hands, embarrassed of the grease and grime, instead we fist bumped happily. I returned on January 2 to find they had scrubbed it, added more water bottle holders, and all the little acts of love poured into the machine, followed by gift giving and kindness like I can only express in person, I was beyond words.
But of course, tried in every way I could anyway…
Like this blog I wrote when we crash landed here:
https://www.her-odyssey.org/2020/04/26/jorche-de-los-bicis/

Or this 3 min video right before we set out again:
https://youtu.be/1KzTkc0kNcc

On January 3, we set out under full sun across the Central Plateau. Stopping on the south side of Aguascalientes to watch a murmuration of migrating birds in the Nissan Mexico Plant parking lot before taking to some of the dirt roads in the afternoon.

We made it all of about 7 km before the heat of the day and comedown from the adrenaline of getting going again had us stop for ice cream in the shade. We had our first giddy daily check in and decided where we thought we’d make it by sunset. Something felt hopeful and grounding about getting back to known patterns with a safe partner, even in unknown environs.

From there we zoomed out on our first fun descent, dodging free ranging yard dogs (often more rude and aggressive than the actual perros callejeros.) We made the next climb back to a paved road where I realized I had left my backpack at the abarrotes where we had gotten ice cream. Horrified, kicking myself for the novice oversight, frustrated to have to ride back uphill at the end of the day, and fearful of the narrative circulated that people in Mexico are always just looking for a chance to rob you.

Still, amidst my cloud of anxiety, remembered my manners and exchanged greetings with each person coming back from work. With each effort to step out from under my cloud, I saw the dignity of comportment of the campo folks and gained hope that it might still be there. I got back 30 minutes later to find my pack sitting untouched, while young families hung about chatting in the evening sun. Exhausted again from the adrenaline let down, I sat for a moment with a little girl explaining the dollhead I travel with, BabyFace, and let her rub his head for luck, as I do every time a car comes too close for comfort or before riding into a busy city.

The next day, in Bajio de San Jose we got a good round of one of my quick read litmus tests of towns and whether they are safe to stop in:  Watch how the animals and children react to us. Fearful, malnourished, means we move along. Curious and healthy indicates a positive community.

In this case, we had been eating lunch of tortas and Fanta on the plaza and a lone black dog walked by, stopped and sat smiling at us for a moment before trotting away. Thing 10,000,013 I love about traveling in Latin America is getting beverages in returnable glass bottles. Between these and my Sawyer Squeeze (partner) I’ve saved the use of hundreds if not thousands of plastic bottles. You can’t always work it all the time but living with that intention in mind changes the way I see things, and that changes the world for me.

A few minutes later, I saw the dog coming back, just grinning, with his lil lady and 3 pups in tow. They stood back, watching hungrily as we ate and when I started to share voluntarily, they came closer. Mama would do these cute butt wiggle dances, papa dug himself a shallow dust pit in the shade and watched, as we finished our meal, we began distributing bites to the whole family. Locals like to laugh that even the street dogs know how to spot a gringo, because they know we have food to spare, and this was a case in point!

Packing up our trash, I had put a hunk of old cheese I had been carrying in it without thinking and as I walked away one of the pups nabbed the cheese bag but I was impressed by his trust and gentleness, letting me come take it from him, pull it out of the bag and break it up among them. As we pedaled south out of town, the whole clan were trotting off to the north.

At the next plaza, stopping for a cold drink, an older gentleman named Peter who worked for the city came over to practice his English and tell of his 17 years working in California. It is a matter of dignity and esteem for them to speak in English. It is polite, in turn, to speak back in English but only to the extent you gauge they understand, otherwise you are causing embarrassment. He would walk away until he remembered another phrase in English then circle back around.

He proudly presented 2 of his grandsons who were also playing on the plaza. A few minutes later they came running back, asking to borrow his pocket knife. They had found a pigeon whose legs were bound up in twine and they wanted to save it. I was able to loan them my Gerber Suspension-NXT (partner) and Peter excused himself to step aside where the three of them worked the bird free before the boys’ mother came to round them up. I asked the family if I could take this picture and as the boys ran off, the younger one squealing to his big brother, “vas a ser FAMOSO!”

The next evening, picking up tortas and other food at the abarrotes in a small village, we inquired about lodging. The shop owner’s daughter was making our sandwiches and when we didn’t have the right change he told his son who ran the till to charge us less. I insisted they let us foot the extra 20 pesos rather than undercharge and he nodded approvingly.

The culture here is quite different from the southern cone ones I grew up in, so navigating these things is a bit less certain than it was in the first stretches of the odyssey. I have also traveled and grown long enough to begin to realize how little I truly comprehend. Thus, I feel really pleased and relieved when I read it right and prefer to err on the side of maybe a bit too generous rather than too tight. There is also a cyclical return that when I rise to their cordiality, more is extended.

Sometimes the cost saving, penny pinching nature of these long journeys, makes them particularly extractive for the locals who extend hospitality. The first rounds of travelers through won’t experience the blowback but for the locals, after a few seasons of giving according to their manners and traditions but not getting that respect back it becomes tiresome. If we travelers take and then ride away congratulating ourselves on how much we saved or think that saying nice things about them on the internet is enough, folks eventually cannot afford to keep extending those courtesies. By these means we strip them not only of resources but also of being able to perceive themselves as friendly and hospitable people. Just look at the Spanish’s first foray into these regions…

We experienced their tiredness around the tourist bubbles in Patagonia, Argentina, Bolivia and Peru. Specifically, chatting with the Cholitas and asking why they charge people who take pictures of them. The gist of their answer was, they were tired of being treated like objects and believed people made money off of selling the photos of them because one time a postcard with one of them on it made it back and she was frustrated to not have given permission and to never have received remuneration of acknowledgment of any sort.

“They didn’t even know her name,” one woman explained. Their names are very important to them. If you ask most folks down here their name, they tell you the whole thing, and when I write it down, they check over my shoulder that I am noting it right. I’ve learned to show them my notebook once I jot something and then I get the small nod of satisfaction. Just as much as I wish to leave my print by writing these blogs, so too do the people I meet wish to feel seen. As a traveler and so many lives I brush past, this can be challenging, but it matters oh so very much to at least try.

Anyway, in this case, buying tortas turned into him introducing me to a local rancher who pointed us to his land where his wife was and they let us stay the night in their seasonal staff bunk quarters. In the morning I gave her some N-95 masks, explaining they were sent as a gift from women in Wichita who wish for health, from our pueblos to theirs, with 200 pesos tucked underneath.

The next night we stayed in the gated resort of the Comanjilla Hot Springs where I was able to let my social obligations and guard down and had the internet connectivity to begin writing. The next morning we pedaled back down the hill to where the locals came to picnic and do laundry (some literal ‘trickle down’ reality here) and enjoyed hearty breakfast quesadillas and swapping stories with the family who had set up shop in one of the cement picnic covers around the grounds.

“te invito,” they say, when giving something as a gift. The woman cooking had her teenage daughter gift us the first sweet tamale I’ve had, with pasas y masa and her husband gave us two maracuya fruits, which he made a show to rinse and present to us. Gifts of fruit is one of the most significant themes to me along our route. Any body out laboring under hot sun knows the value of such a present.

In this case, attempting to pay for the gifts would be rude, so I instead gifted them the small bottle of lotion I had taken from the resort, “for your hard working hands,” I said as I gave it to the teenage daughter who was making the tortillas. We thanked them and pedaled on.

I love the colorful and differently sized money. Different bills come from different States and bear the notable markings of the region. It also makes it easy for me to watch who tips and how much, though honestly it doesn’t seem like a standardly done thing and at restaurants most often they simply tip with the left over coinage. Advice is: 10% if you are being served by someone not from the family who run the establishment (a typical dining establishment. At the roadside stands, tipping is not normal. Though they do seem to approve of giving coins to their children who always give a glowing thanks).

Along the next road, a man in a shiny black Denali came to warn us that this road is known for thieves, they even rob the locals, he said. I thanked him, conferred with Neon, we buttoned down the hatches and hid the items which invite scrutiny, then began watching for signs. The campo remained fine but in the next small pueblo along a highway, began to see gang tags.

At the moment we were on the Trans Mexico Bikepacking Route, which wove through a tight little village with a lot of young men hanging about and a few boys picking on a chicken. I made a greeting as I pressed through and they just stared. Trying to stay close with Neon but grateful she is behind, I hit a steep hill that I had to get off and push up as fast as I could without moving like I was scared even though I was also vomiting from anxiety.

Rounding a curve into this agave field I watched her stock still stance as she stopped at the top of the hill and stared back down it. It scares me when she moves like that, so I knew something must be up. She pedaled along soon enough and what she explained reminded me how grateful I am to be traveling with a woman who has experience and capacity with staring unflinchingly into the virulent rage of adolescent boys.

Once back on more traveled, visitor friendly roads we had a long 900 m climb to the Sangre de Cristo overlooking the Leon valley. As we lumbered up a local family were coming down from having pedaled all the way up the mountain that morning. Kids, parents, and grandma! They needed an Allen wrench, as one of their bikes had come loose.

Happy to oblige, while the guys worked on the bike, I chatted with the mother and grandmother. Often people lavish compliments on travelers and, ego driven creatures that we are, we thrive on it. Being told we are firsts, or only or otherwise made to feel special fueled me mightily for thousands of miles of South America, in fact, being unique became a central driving tenant. What we often forget is to turn the praise back on them, to afford our benefactors the same lifted spirits.

So as I chatted with the women and children about Dia de Los Reyes Magos I made no small work of meeting their compliments with my own, of how impressed I was by them and the climb they did, how I would feel lucky to be the age of the grandmother and still out riding. We all talked about how, if you just look at pictures, you’d think all bike riding is downhill but that is only because those are the only times you really can, or even feel like, taking pictures!
Commiseration builds mutual, sustaining bonds.

From there we pedaled the bike paths through the city of Leon and back up through the Lobos Mountains. Finally, we crested again and began the zoom into the Pueblo Magico of Guanajuato.