Bicycling in Mexico: Michoacan

• Introduction
• July 8-14
• July 15-20

July 15-20

July 15, Tinguindin, 27Km

Only 27 Km today put us back on our planned itinerary, so we got a really late start, 10am. The route started with 4-5 Km of flat riding to get out of town, then we started climbing, sometimes steeply, for another 10 Km or so.

Just past the steep climbing we took a side trip to Tocumbo, the home of frozen juice treats in Mexico. Well, maybe not for all of them but a very popular chain of frozen fruit and ice cream stands, "La Michoacan" got it's start in Tocumbo. So, naturally I had to stop for a frozen mango bar. It appears to be made from mango pieces frozen into mango juice on a stick. They have countless other flavors made from the usual fruit options (pineapple, apple, blackberry, strawberry, etc.) but also more exotic options. Basil had some creamy corn flavored frozen bar that was quite good and Alexandra had some frozen limon sherbet on chocolate flavored ice cream.

Some more rolling hills and then a short climb up to the city limit of Tinguindin where we found a military check point. The Mexican Army had all the trucks and most of the cars pulled over, rifles ready. Evidently they put these checkpoints up randomly to search for guns and drugs. Of course, I think most of the gun and drug runners are alerted before hand and so know to avoid that highway and use another route, but I'm a cynic.

We found a very charming hotel. Entering through a large wooden double door takes you into a large patio filled with plants and a fountain. The rooms, arranged around the patio on two floors, are cool and pleasant in the hot afternoon. Not far is the plaza, with a very nice church on one end and the other sides lined with small shops recessed behind portico sheltered sidewalks.

This evening, after dinner, we joined the other towns people strolling around the square, enjoying the cool evening air and amber light from the approaching sunset. This town doesn't have any noteworthy tourist attractions so it's just us and the local people watching us for entertainment. Actually, I think that most of the people here have seen plenty of Norte Americanos because I've met several with very good english which they learned while working in the US.

July 16, Tangancicuaro, 66Km

It was raining heavily when we got up for our usual 7am departure so we went back to bed for a little while. It was misting slightly as we pulled out about 8:30am. We started climbing right out of town and kept climbing for the next 20 Km to Tarecuarto. On Saturday Tarecuarto has a great market in the town square, with lots of freshly cut flowers and some good eats. The ladies of Tarecuarto have the most colorful costumes of the Purhepecha villages I've seen. Quite a group were decked out in their very finest colorful blouses, vibrant skirts, and embroidered lacy aprons. They also had these thick belts, not unlike the kind worn by Sumo wrestlers, but with tassels of bright primary colors hanging from the back. A local woman was selling some agua miel made from blue corn. Agua miel is the corn and cactus concoction that they ferment into the alcoholic drink Pulque. It's thick and sweet, if unattractively colored for a lunch drink.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The church in Tarecuarto was very interesting. It was a traditional hospital setup with a church facing a fenced courtyard and a portico attached to the right side. The portico housed several rooms which in the past served the Indians as a combination school, infirmary, and counseling center. At least if run by a sympathetic and kindly priest, unfortunately some viewed the Indians more as a resource to be exploited than a flock. Inside the church is very plain, no large oil paintings or marble statues here. The front facade had several statues of important saints and a very nice statue of the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe. Well, statue doesn't quite describe it. Think more of a 4 foot doll completely clothed in a colorful dress made of the nicest silk and richly decorated with lace and ribbons. The other saints also had on real clothes, all tailored for their 1/2 size bodies. Evidently, the Purhepecha are very sensitive to the shyness of their icons, for example, a wooden Jesus was hanging from the Cross wearing a very nice lavender silk skirt to protect his modesty.

Six more Km of climbing then some rolling hills and city traffic brought us to the center of Zamora. It was pretty hot and sunny now we all headed to the refreshment stand to get frozen treats. I opted for a frozen corn flavored cream popsicle and Basil decided on a chile flavored ice cream cone. Alexandra got her favorite blackberry sherbet chocolate ice cream scoops. For lunch I had a hamburger. Pretty good although the pickled carrots and avocado were a bit surprising and I did have to pick out the Jalapeno peppers.

Zamora has a huge church that was started in the 16th century and is finally nearing completion. Well, actually I think it might be nearing an equilibrium in which it deteriorates about as fast as they build it. Still, the stained glass inside was spectacular, better than anything I«ve seen in Europe.

 

From Zamora we climbed a series of hills to Lago Camecuaro. This spring fed small lake is surrounded by picnic spots and on a Saturday filled with families picnicking. They have little boats for rent so you can glide around on the lake to gawk and be gawked at. Some people were out with inner tubes floating around but no body was swimming. It seemed rather a shock to them when I climbed out on a nearby tree trunk and dove into the deep end. My friends told me that Mexicans aren't big on swimming. Or maybe what shocked them was that I was still wearing my clothes.

We reached Tangancucuaro just as it started to rain. Tangancucuaro is a pretty good sized town, probably 30-40,000 people, but, it seems that no one eats out. We finally found one restaurant that served one dish to their only customers, us. It didn't matter to me, the freshly squeezed orange juice and burritos were great for ahungry cyclist.

July 17, Zacapu, 57Km

The morning started with a light drizzle but cleared to a humid partly cloudy day. We spent almost all day climbing, with a few sections of rolling hills. But, while this was maybe the hardest day yet for me, it was also very beautiful. We climbed up to the start of a small valley called Canyata de Once Pueblos (The ravine of the eleven villages) Each village is unique but they come one right after the other. We stopped at two.

The first was Huatzen where a small market was in full swing. The village ladies were out with their goods either spread out on blankets or on small tables made of plywood. They were selling everything from ladies underwear to tree bark. Unfortunately for business, the place pretty much stopped when we rolled into the square. A sizable contingent of young boys and men came over to check out Roadboy, finally giving their approval with smiles and thumb-up signs. The church had some more modestly dressed icons with a plain but well used exterior. We went up a dirt road in search of Pulque, but the Pulque lady was sold out, so we had to settle for a chocolate flavored corn miel drink, served hot.

 

 

Next, Chilchota had a larger busier market next to the square. I had a big glass of freshly squeezed orange juice while Basil ordered up a very red glass of pure beet juice. Actually, now that I think about it he got a dash of carrot and orange juice for flavor.

Eventually, we reached Carapan, where we started the tour slightly more than a week ago. We stopped again for huevos revueltos sin nada (scrambled eggs with nothing). From across this busy intersection a drunk spotted us almost as soon as we sat down and yelling, aiyiyi amigos, headed our way with the best speed he could muster. Basil was closest so the drunk approached him first: "Amigo, do you have anything to drink?". After some time, and despite his proudly proclaiming that he is an Indio, Basil was able to convince him that no drink would be forthcoming. So, he moved across the table to me: "Amigo, do you have anything to drink?" It took me some time to convince him that I also was without anything to drink, by which time he had forgotten that Basil didn't have anything to drink. "Amigo, do you have anything to drink?" Finally, seeing the potentially endless nature of the dialogue, Basil convinced him that some guy down the road had some good drinks. Without so much as an hasta luego he was off down the road pursuing the hapless but as yet unknowing victim.

We climbed many more kilometers, through a "puppy ranch" (with no puppies) until we finally crossed a very beautiful pass and started a long fast descent to Zacapu.

July 18, Eringaricauro, 42Km

Only 42 Km today. We left Zacapu about 7:30 under clear skies, well, mostly clear. The first 25 Km were uphill, but on a beautiful lonely road cut through a land of extinct cinder cones covered with trees. This whole area of Michaocan was very volcanic in the past so it has lots of old cinder cones spread over an upland plateau. Some large, some small, they all have that distinctive Mt Fugi shape. Some have lakes in their craters, we visited one on our rest day about 20Km out of Zacapu. At least this one wasn«t so appealing as Crater Lake National Park in Oregon, because the greater biological intensity here makes the water a dirty green.

Except for the cinder cones and the corn fields, parts of the route looked like Montana, huge open meadows with trees hugging the slopes. No Elk that I saw, but plenty of donkeys. We passed more donkeys per mile here than any other place, some mama donkeys with their incredibly adorable furry babies. Baby donkeys are mostly ears and big black eyes that study us with that curiosity of the un-experienced. I think their mothers had not told them yet of the heavy loads they were fated to carry.

At the top of the pass we started down toward Lago Patzcuaro again. It's still beautiful in the mountains here, with the little villages arranged around the shore and on a couple islands. Even from far away it was easy to recognize Janitzio with it«s huge statue of Juarez.

It was a fast ride down to Eringaricuaro where we stopped for lunch. We had planned to ride on to Patzcuaro but Eringaricuaro was calling us so we quit early. Eringaricuaro has a busy square and lot's of curious Purhepecha people selling the usual assortment of goodies. I found a fruit cup that my wife and I sampled in Morelia. It«s a combination of chopped up mangos and a vegetable that looks like radishes but doesn«t have the hot taste, then soaked in orange juice and covered with cheese and chile powder.

We got rooms in THE hotel in town, run by a pleasant lady who speaks passable english. That was a surprise in a town that doesn't sport an internet cafe. The room had a nice bathroom/shower combination and came equipped with it's own rubber cover for the shower drain. I've learned that when traveling in Mexico it's important to carry around a rubber cover for the shower drain. It seems that the Mexicans, while fully aware of the benefits of a water trap for toilets, have not yet decided that shower drains need the same device before connecting to the sewer. My wife and I suffered some rather smelly nights before I discovered this trick. I like to say that while you're sleeping all hotel rooms look the same, but I can't say the same about the odor.

It started to rain about 4pm, but not hard.

July 19, Morelia, 77.2Km

The last day, 77.2 Km. We started out about 7:30am heading out along the west side of Lago Patzcuaro. It's much the nicer side of the lake to cycle, 25 Km of rolling hills, little traffic, and nice views of the lake. We passed through several Purhepecha villages, and a few Prepecha dogs that are still resisting European aggression, on our way to Quiroga. Quiroga is a nice little town, with a busy square my wife and I visited when we were here.

Just out of Quiroga we joined the highway to Morelia, so the traffic increased. We climbed rather steeply for about 10 Km, the traffic increasing all the time. The Mexican drivers are for the most part very considerate and kind. I've seen many a truck or bus driver slow dramatically so that he could cleanly pass during a break in oncoming traffic. Many people wave and honk encouragement. Well, unfortunately my companions know spanish and had to report that a few have yelled out something other than encouragement, but I didn't learn this till the trip was over so it didn't affect me. The worst situation comes while working up a steep hill, gasping for breath in the thin mountain air, doing all of about 7km/hour, when a nice trunk driver slows to pass safely and then shifts to a lower gear and floors the pedal just in time to belch out a blast of hot dark dirty diesel exhaust in a cloud that hangs on the side of the road, my side of the road. Do you hold your breath, impossible, you have no choice but go for the big gulp and hope diesel exhaust has some miraculous undiscovered therapeutic effect on lungs.

At the top of the pass before Morelia we stopped for a second breakfast. This little road side restaurant was a real Mexican classic. An older woman worked the tables and drinks, while the daughter cooked the food or worked at blazing speed making tortiallas. The kitchen was made of adobe and heated an assortment of metal pots over a wood fire. We tried to take a picture but it was hard to catch her not in rapid motion blurring the picture. Our salsa was served in lava stone bowls with little legs, right out of the museum of anthropology in Mexico City. The son-in-law barbecued beef out front for a steady stream of hungry truck drivers and tourists. A big brown eyed little girl played in the back with her dollies, waiting for mama to have some free time. Even the dog outside was a perfect Mexican dog, one ear up and one ear down, a medium sized mixed breed, smart, friendly and alert for opportunities. It was a lovely and charming way to end the bicycle trip, but not surprizing. Basil and Alex have a knack of finding these places in Mexico because of their great love of the country and people and their eager exploration of the less traveled road.

I tried to carry that image with me as I descended into the smog and traffic of Morelia, and the lonely bus ride to Mexico to catch the plane home.

 

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