A Border, a Waterfall, and a Reckoning

(Written on 8/9/19)

Wednesday dawned, and I was nervous. I’d already covered over 1,000 miles in the course of my journey, but six miles from where I’d woken up, everything was about to change. I’d ridden those thousand miles in a country whose language I spoke natively, where all my cards worked seamlessly, where I had cellphone service almost everywhere, where cartel violence and occasional roving bandit groups weren’t a concern, and where I could drink the water without worrying about the unspeakable after-effects. None of these things were true of the country I was about to enter, nor of the majority that would follow it, a thought that weighed heavily on my mind as I triple-checked that everything was packed up and ready to go.

The Mexican border is almost unavoidable in Laredo; other than the subdivisions, one of the three bridges across the Rio Grande and into Mexico is accessible in a few minutes from nearly every part of the city, and the number of currency exchanges, Mexican flags, and travel services increase significantly the closer you get. With all that said, the process was surprisingly easy; I’d crossed into Mexico twice by plane, but never by ground, so I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. After paying the bridge toll on the American side, I made my way across the bridge to Mexican customs, where an officer took a cursory look through my bags, stamped my passport, and sent me on my way. “That’s it?” I thought, as I got back on, started the Twin for the first time on foreign soil, and took off into Mexico, a thrilled feeling building in my chest. Hang onto your helmets boys and girls, we’re finally going international.

My plan was to put a reasonable amount of distance between myself and the border before the day was out, with my goal being to make it to Monterrey. Once I’d withdrawn enough pesos to hold me over for a couple of days and filled up on water, I managed to make pretty good time on the Carretera, at least for the first hour or so. Past that though, I ran into a twofold problem; the highway had rapidly transitioned into the grooved-pavement nightmare typical of construction zones, and I was getting fatigued. With my bike’s air temperature readout stuck at 105 and my single-minded focus on racking up miles, I hadn’t noticed that even with regular sips from my water reservoir, I was getting dehydrated, and a little hungry to boot. I pulled off at a roadside tienda, where I found some delicious chicharron tacos, enough water to mitigate the effects of the crushing heat, and my first experience with Mexican hospitality in the form of a pair of truck drivers who were thrilled to hear that I’d ridden all the way from Nashville, and shocked that I was going as far as Santiago. They insisted on paying for my small lunch, and sent me on my way with phone numbers and promises of lodging with multiple family members, should I pass through Mexico City. I got back on the road feeling refreshed and genuinely welcome, this time avoiding the construction zones and highway tolls in favor of back roads paralleling the Carretera through the desert; so it went for another 150 miles or so.

Monterrey, and the mountains surrounding it, appear almost abruptly from the landscape; one mile, you’re in classic Mexican scrubland, the next, you are confronted by three massive peaks rising out of the desert and haze in imposingly beautiful fashion. Monterrey isn’t quite a city in the mountains, but there is no place in the city where it’s possible to forget that you’re surrounded by them. After parking at my AirBnB for the night, I used the remaining daylight for a (steep) trek up to the Mirador de Obispado, a former church-turned-museum, the Obispado contained a detailed and fascinating history of the prehistoric people who inhabited the region, the founding of Monterrey by the Spanish, and the long and complicated set of occupations and revolutions that led to Monterrey’s independence from the Spanish and French and eventual absorption into the Mexican state. Further up the hill above the Obispado, a small plaza stood, crowned by a gigantic Mexican flag flying above the city and with gorgeous view of nearly all of Monterrey.

After returning to my room for the night, taking stock of how far I’d come and how far I had yet to go, and discussing my exact timetable with Ngaire, I was force to reckon with the sobering fact that I was not going to make it to Panama on time. I’d reserved a September 4^th crossing from the north coast of Panama around the impassable Darien Gap to Cartagena, Colombia, but given the daily mileage I’d been averaging, the fact that I still had five border crossings and close to 2,000 miles of riding between Monterrey and Panama, and the fact that I did actually want to explore many places along the way, it was clear that making the boat service’s requested September 2^nd deadline for inspection and customs prior to departure from Panama was completely unrealistic. I was faced with a dilemma: do I abandon the idea of exploring, blitz it for Panama, completely avoid any sort of mechanical or border delay, and hope to make it on time, or do I re-book for a later trip leaving September 20^th and take my time exploring Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Panama, with the small-to-moderate risk of running out of money completely?

Readers who’ve been following thus far can probably guess which conclusion Ngaire and I both arrived at. I will be staying in Central America about two weeks longer than I’d originally planned, but with time in hand to actually enjoy all these places I’ll be visiting; all but Costa Rica and Mexico are completely foreign to me, and I feel I’d be doing myself and everyone who’s supported me along the way a disservice by blowing through all of Central America too quickly to see anything. This was not a decision made lightly, nor without a great deal of anxiety, but having had time to sit and think, I fully believe it’s the right one.

With the weight of a strict timetable lifted, I found a couch to surf for one extra night and spent Thursday exploring the multiple national parks surrounding Monterrey. Morning took me to Parque la Huasteca, encompassing one of the three large mountains surrounding Monterrey. The views as I wound through the picturesque park road were nothing short of breathtaking; mountains like nothing I’d ever seen in the US rose up in wave-like forms, the striations in the rock bending and twisting as though giant hands had molded them, with large caves visible at the top of sheer vertical rock faces. While the park was crisscrossed with hiking trails, I was reluctant to leave my loaded bike at any of the trailheads, and so enjoyed the park largely from my seat. Even limiting myself to vehicular pursuits brought opportunities for fun an exploration; after passing underneath a massive dam, the park road dead-ended into a dry riverbed with tire trails running through it. With my tires aired down slightly, I continued onto the dirt, marveling yet again at the Twin’s off-road ability even with all my gear on board. I followed a few meanders in the river until turning around at an expanse of deep sand; I had no desire at all to end up with my bike stuck in such a remote place.

After dropping my things off at my host’s apartment, I set back out to find the waterfalls of Cerro La Silla, the iconic bifurcated mountain that has become the symbol of Monterrey. My first attempt, down what I thought was the road to the “Camino de las Cascadas” ended with a rocky dirt road completely blocked by a herd of cattle who were none too happy to see an American on a motorcycle disturbing their grazing. A few minutes of furious Google-mapping and a few more miles later, and I’d found the trail to the waterfalls. As I hiked up the lower part of the trail, I started to wonder if my efforts had been entirely in vain; there were obvious signs of a large stream having run next to and around the trail, but the place was bone dry. As I ascended further, however, I caught the faint sound of falling water, and the first of the active waterfalls. It was clear that it hadn’t rained for a while, but there was still enough water coming over the lower falls to cool off in, and signs of more up ahead. The trail, however, turned nearly vertical in places; several spots had me wishing I’d brought my climbing shoes from Nashville. Still, the hike and climb were worth it for the picturesque scenes I found, and I descended happily after cooling off once again in the freezing cold water.

My next destination is Real de Catorce, an old silver mining town a few hours south of Monterrey, and from there onward to San Luis Potosi. Thanks for following along once again!