I
was happy to get riding again once I returned to Mexico. Everything intact, I
rode back to Merida to get my tyres changes, Caleb was out of town but managed
to get me a decent discount as his mates ran the Kawasaki dealership there. I
was given great service and left after a day having seen probably my favourite
main square in all of Mexico and details of where to find Marco, a friend of Jorge’s
and part of the biker community in Bacalar, the last Mexican town I was heading
for near the border with Belize. As I waited for my soup at a little restaurant
along a quiet road I got off to admire my new tyres only to find I had a screw
punctured through my front tyre without any air being released. A shock as I’d
ridden over 19,000km’s without an issue but a couple hours after getting new
tyres I had a puncture. I rode in to the nearby village police station to ask
for directions to the closest tyre repairer and was escorted to a great guy who
worked out of his carport. Off came the tyre for the second time in a day and after
leaving the big smiles and warm reception from the extended family I continued
on through the rains to Bacalar.
I set up my tent on the clear laguna before a couple of big bikers came over to greet me. It was Marco who had been told I was coming down and had hunted me down and who I had completed forget about. A very friendly guy who offered me to stay at his place but I decided to camp on the water and arrange to meet up the following day. Marco’s hospitality was overwhelming, when I returned to my tent later on I had a bag of sweets, yoghurt and drinks at my door and the next day after an oil change I spent time hanging out at his place and we went to his parents place for a great dinner and chat about the Mexicans before staying in his spare room. It was a great way to cap off my last night and two and half months in Mexico. I’ve had some great moments here, notably, passing through its deserts, mountains and lakes, time learning and being active on the farms, riding alone the pacific coast for days and surfing in its waters, fun times with backpackers in Mexico City, getting to know the biking community in the Yucutan, spending time relaxing and swimming with Jenn and experiencing beautiful towns like Guanajuato, San Miguel de Allende, Zacatecas, Morelia, Oaxaca and Merida. I was also ready to leave and start afresh.
I rode into Belize the next day. The border crossings were painful at both ends but I managed to ride through to the northern provincial town, Orange Walk for my first night. My few days in Belize were met with miserable weather and flooded roads, not the tropical paradise I was hoping for. Belize is a small country only a few hundred kilometres in length known mainly for having the longest barrier reef in the world behind that of Queensland and thus popular for diving. It was a significant land during the Mayan era, rejected by the Spanish for lack of known resources and later a slave colony was set up by the British making it the only English speaking country south of the U.S. It gained independence from Britain in 1981. Belize is highly ethnically diverse – Mayans, Creoles, Garifunas, Hispanics, Mennonites and more. I travelled through from the north and exited to the west. I didn’t experience much other than highway riding and stopping for the heavy rains, something to eat and somewhere to sleep. Two people will remind me of my experiences here, Slim & Roy. I ate at Slim’s little restaurant on the highway, a memorable barbequed creole chicken and a chat about the social decay of the country since independence.
On my last evening I decided to stop riding near the border town of San Ignacio when I saw an old sign directing me to the Smith Family Farm with ‘camping by the river and cold beer’. I rode in through the farm and was met by Roy, a limping skinny old man who declared it wasn’t possible to camp by the river due to flooding and he had no beer but I decided to stay once he offered me a cheap cabin and rice and beans on the house. He even fetched me some beers later so I joined him in the hammocks under the carport. Roy was a kind man and wanted someone to chat to, he lived on the farm alone, sometimes with long term ex-pats staying there or campers, he was proud of his free and secluded life among the trees which he planted, the variety of birds and the tranquility, his paradise. He lived simply with his bicycle and strict self-providing diet of rice, beans, avocados, marijuana and coffee. He shared his story with me, his wife ran away to the U.S. nine years ago around the time God spoke to him and told him to find the wilderness, where he moved to the farm and claimed to have never left its grounds. For the next couple of hours he told me of his 7 day Adventist beliefs and went on a rampage of quoting passages from the bible, its meanings and contradictons, stories on hell, obedience, Noah and his ark and all things universal which left me intrigued and exhausted. I left the next morning and crossed effortlessly into Guatemala
I set up my tent on the clear laguna before a couple of big bikers came over to greet me. It was Marco who had been told I was coming down and had hunted me down and who I had completed forget about. A very friendly guy who offered me to stay at his place but I decided to camp on the water and arrange to meet up the following day. Marco’s hospitality was overwhelming, when I returned to my tent later on I had a bag of sweets, yoghurt and drinks at my door and the next day after an oil change I spent time hanging out at his place and we went to his parents place for a great dinner and chat about the Mexicans before staying in his spare room. It was a great way to cap off my last night and two and half months in Mexico. I’ve had some great moments here, notably, passing through its deserts, mountains and lakes, time learning and being active on the farms, riding alone the pacific coast for days and surfing in its waters, fun times with backpackers in Mexico City, getting to know the biking community in the Yucutan, spending time relaxing and swimming with Jenn and experiencing beautiful towns like Guanajuato, San Miguel de Allende, Zacatecas, Morelia, Oaxaca and Merida. I was also ready to leave and start afresh.
I rode into Belize the next day. The border crossings were painful at both ends but I managed to ride through to the northern provincial town, Orange Walk for my first night. My few days in Belize were met with miserable weather and flooded roads, not the tropical paradise I was hoping for. Belize is a small country only a few hundred kilometres in length known mainly for having the longest barrier reef in the world behind that of Queensland and thus popular for diving. It was a significant land during the Mayan era, rejected by the Spanish for lack of known resources and later a slave colony was set up by the British making it the only English speaking country south of the U.S. It gained independence from Britain in 1981. Belize is highly ethnically diverse – Mayans, Creoles, Garifunas, Hispanics, Mennonites and more. I travelled through from the north and exited to the west. I didn’t experience much other than highway riding and stopping for the heavy rains, something to eat and somewhere to sleep. Two people will remind me of my experiences here, Slim & Roy. I ate at Slim’s little restaurant on the highway, a memorable barbequed creole chicken and a chat about the social decay of the country since independence.
On my last evening I decided to stop riding near the border town of San Ignacio when I saw an old sign directing me to the Smith Family Farm with ‘camping by the river and cold beer’. I rode in through the farm and was met by Roy, a limping skinny old man who declared it wasn’t possible to camp by the river due to flooding and he had no beer but I decided to stay once he offered me a cheap cabin and rice and beans on the house. He even fetched me some beers later so I joined him in the hammocks under the carport. Roy was a kind man and wanted someone to chat to, he lived on the farm alone, sometimes with long term ex-pats staying there or campers, he was proud of his free and secluded life among the trees which he planted, the variety of birds and the tranquility, his paradise. He lived simply with his bicycle and strict self-providing diet of rice, beans, avocados, marijuana and coffee. He shared his story with me, his wife ran away to the U.S. nine years ago around the time God spoke to him and told him to find the wilderness, where he moved to the farm and claimed to have never left its grounds. For the next couple of hours he told me of his 7 day Adventist beliefs and went on a rampage of quoting passages from the bible, its meanings and contradictons, stories on hell, obedience, Noah and his ark and all things universal which left me intrigued and exhausted. I left the next morning and crossed effortlessly into Guatemala
