One day we will see whether we can put together a list of 26 places we have visited on the bikes each starting with a different letter of the alphabet. We will give Z to Zacatecas. It was another of those stops where we knew not much about the place and, in the end, thoroughly enjoyed our visit. As usual, a myriad of churches the Spaniards left behind. A cable car rode over the town and the number of churches was clearly visible from above. The stone carving on the main facades of the Cathedral is extremely detailed (over the top) - with bizarre Buddha like figures included at the base. The inside was however pretty bare as the church had been ransacked a number of times - the area was a silver mining area. We were post Election now, the written results were posted on a large number of buildings - either the 'ward' sizes were very small or not many people voted. Perhaps they were put off by the alcohol ban we had encountered? Banned unless you carried an opaque black plastic bag, as we witnessed at a cafe on a main road.
Zacatecas was on the way to Durango. Durango has its major church, and a few minor ones, as well as its Plaza which comes alive at night. One day we will find a Plaza where the street singers can actually sing. Sometimes they put Chinese theatre to shame. We didn't find any that could sing in Durango. For us, Durango was all about the road to the coast which turned out to be quite spectacular. It became evident quite quickly why a toll road had been built. We met numerous other bikes on the route and even managed to have coffee bought for us by a Mexican biker, with whom we proudly chatted with for 40 minutes in 'our' Spanish.
The road was tiring and we were nonetheless glad to arrive in Matzalan - but we hadn't really learned our lesson from our previous foray onto the Mexican Pacific Coast. It is hot and very humid. We are convinced that, as opposed to drying overnight, the clothes we washed actually absorbed more water from the air. Damp socks and T-shirts to set off with in the morning. Mazatlan itself was a bit like a small Vegas-by-the-Beach. There were dune buggies roaring up and down the strip at night dodging the taxi golf buggies and if you didn't have music blaring out you were a nobody. We did manage to visit the beach with the intention of going in the sea. However it was high tide which meant that there was no more than a 3m width of beach available. And it was packed - there are an awful lot of hotels in Mazatlan. And walking on the beach was made worse - or better? - by ambulant brass bandas walking up and down serenading unappreciative tourists. Very lively and great fun to watch. This wasn't like one of those dusty colonial Mexican towns we had visited.
We returned to Durango via the toll road which was an engineering masterpiece with loads and loads of high level tunnels often joined together by bridges at either end. The construction sequence was not evident to us; were the tunnels built first without the bridges in place, or, if it was the bridges first, how were they put up? Something to look up when we get home.
Then followed a silly day in Durango. Just outside the city is a film set once used by John Wayne... and others since. One of its other claims to fame is that Bob Dylan is supposed to have written 'Knocking on Heaven's door' there - presumably under the influence of something in order to survive the place. It is now a sort of Western theme park. Françoise thoroughly enjoyed the photo taking. When we returned to the accommodation the owner greeted us with a bottle of Mezcal - presumably to get over the ordeal.
The border is still a long way away so we headed to Torreon and ended up in a sort of nondescript motel on the edge of the city. But it had aircon! Aircon is still needed - at least for us wimpy Europeans - as it is still in the high 30's here. Being Sunday it was dead. But being Sunday the local plaza was buzzing as soon as it started to go dark. Apparently it's not just Sundays either. It is a totally different life here because of the climate.
The following day did not get off to a good start for a number of reasons. Paul found that we had a nail in our front tyre. He managed to wheel the bike into a shady part of the car park, remove the nail and repair the puncture. It was already touching 30°C first thing in the morning. We loaded the bike and set off a tad later than hoped for only for the repair to fail after less than 2km. This time Paul had to repair it at the side of the road in front of a dental surgery - they are everywhere in great abundance - with a lady sweeping the pavement outside looking on bemused. Paul no longer trusted his repairs but his second repair held long enough for us to return to a small motorcycle shop Paul had spotted the day before. The owner had a chum called Juan Solano six blocks away who specialised in 'llantas' and 'vulcanizacion' - roadside signs for these are almost as numerous as those for dentists. All this meant we never set off until 14.00 in the afternoon; we rode through the afternoon heat hitting at least 40°C when we stopped for a drink. Our overnight stop was in Hidalgo de Parral about which we knew and know nothing. We arrived at the motel, cleaned up, went next door to eat, slept and left in the morning - the repaired tyre holding firm - for Chihuahua.
The entire city has had its soul ripped out by town planners. Plazas were big barren places you didn't want to cross in the heat. Roads were often difficult to cross and there was a plethora of modern uninteresting buildings. There weren't even any real dogs! So we rested and undertook chores. We have a few days left in Mexico and are planning a train trip before we leave. We had reserved our tickets already but needed to confirm our tickets at the station in Chihuahua. Too hot to walk so we took a bus only for us to initially confuse the Chihuahua Penitentiary, a fine castellated building, for the station, a measly little shed behind it.
We are now in Creel ready for our train ride tomorrow. Creel seems to be a town where nothing happens, except for the train passing through a couple of times a day. The street dogs sussed us out though and followed us for nearly half an hour in misplaced hope. At least we have the entertainment of the (colibri) hummingbirds outside our bedroom window.
Onwards. Tomorrow the train and not the bike. Six days left in Mexico.
