The Desert Expedition 2007
Friday, part II - running out of time
Scott fixing his flat
Uncle’s solution to the problem of lack of shade.
At this point, 2 issues began to exert themselves – time & distance.
We had been riding steadily since 9 a.m. and the afternoon was nearly gone,
but we still had a really long way to go. Would we arrive in Muzquiz
before dark? Not at the pace we had been traveling and certainly not
if we had any other bike issues.
Everyone says don’t ride after dark in Mexico, which is probably darn good
advice. We had come prepared to camp, but that presented a whole
different problem. Where could we camp? You might think that all
we need do was pull off to the side of the road, out of sight somewhere, and
set up camp. The challenge was that the mountain terrain we were in
was thick with thorny plants – cactus, mesquite, etc. It seems like
every plant in the desert has some sort of long, sharp thorn as protection.
To pull off the road far enough to be out of sight would entail riding
through lots of these types of plants, meaning we would likely get multiple
flats on the bikes. We had been advised not to camp right next to the
road in the event that drug smugglers used this route. One of the
other motorcycle groups that had come through here had camped out in the
desert their first night and around midnight two vehicles had passed their
location running east in the dark with all the vehicle lights off.
Presumably they were Federales troops driving with NODS (night observation
devices), but it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that it was drug
smugglers driving with the same devices. In any case, if we were
forced to camp it would be in our best interest to get out of sight of the
road and not make our presence known to anyone.
We didn’t have to make a camping decision at that moment as we still had
several hours of daylight available. A new sense of urgency was upon
us though and a decision would have to be made at some point as it was
becoming evident we might not reach Muzquiz before dark. Once Scott’s
bike was repaired we mounted up and headed out at the fastest pace we could
safely maintain.
After many miles of beautiful mountain riding, we entered a large valley. I
knew the “town” of Morelos was up ahead, but had no idea what services might
be available there. The ride report of the last group that went
through here in 2004 years ago indicated there were no stores but they had been
able to buy some gasoline from someone who had a 55 gallon drum of fuel.
We hoped to be able to do the same. We had been riding most of the day and I
knew our fuel tanks were getting low.
The road was running through the valley was in a little better condition and
we were able to ride a bit faster. Eventually we reached Morelos. It
wasn’t a town, only a small collection of houses spread out here and there.
I kept looking for some indication of gasoline for sale but nothing caught
my eye. As we reached the southern end of town I spotted a house with
an old, metal Pepsi sign hanging outside. Perhaps a small tienda
(store)? I quickly pulled in and sure enough it was a little store.
They didn’t have much for sale but they did have cold sodas. A cold
soda never tasted so good. I asked the older woman running the place
about gasoline and she indicated she didn’t know of any being available.
Our quest for fuel would have to continue beyond Morelos. Sodas finished and
feeling somewhat refreshed we rode out with Muzquiz as our goal.
The Tienda (Store) in the village of Morelos - photo by Chris
Hey, tiene usted frio frescas? (Hey, got any cold sodas?) -
photo by Scott
Six tired, hot, thirsty loco motos gringos enjoying a cold soda in
Morelos - photo by Chris
Uncle on the porch of the tienda - photo by Scott
We were forced to modify the route yet again. Our route called for us to
ride a small, trail that paralleled a river running through a 25 mile long
valley. From my map and Google Earth reconnaissance it looked to be a
spectacular path, perhaps the best of the entire expedition. But, if we were
able to average only 15-20 mph on what the map indicated was a “road” what
kind of pace would we be able to maintain on something the map indicated was
a “trail”? There was no way we were going to be able to ride that trail and
have any hope of making it to Muzquiz this day. Instead, we stuck to the
unpaved road heading south out of Morelos leading us to pavement 30 miles
away. As we passed the turn-off to the trail, I saw it disappearing into the
distant valley between some awesomely huge mountains. I so wanted to take
that left turn to the valley, but it was not to be during this trip. One day
I’m coming back and riding that trail.
Running out of light fast - photo by Scott
Finally, at end evening nautical twilight, we reached pavement at Hwy 93.
The Federales (Mexican Army) had a checkpoint set up here and waved us to a
stop. It was the first one we had encountered all day. They were quite
curious as to what 6 dusty, tired gringos on motorcycles were doing in this
part of Mexico. I explained the situation to them and then started asking
about gasoline. At this point we had traveled 190 miles and I knew we were
getting low on fuel.
“No gasolina” they said.
“Donde?” (Where?), I asked
“Muzquiz”, was the reply
“Cuanto kilometros?” (How many kilometers?)
“Ciento treinta” (130)
I did some rough math in my head and figured out it was about 80 miles to
Muzquiz. I broke the bad news to the group. We had already come 190 or so
miles, we were low on fuel, not sure if we could make it another 80 miles on
the fuel that remained, and it was dark in Mexico. Not the best of
situations to be in. On the plus side we had 4 spare gallons of fuel so
maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get us all to Muzquiz.
The group discussed our options and finally decided that our most prudent
course of action would be to continue on and see if we could make Muzquiz
tonight. At least the road was paved the entire way and seemed to be in
reasonably good shape. With the best headlight in the bunch I led out,
keeping the pace to 45 mph to minimize risk and to conserve fuel.
For almost 2 hours we made our way south down Hwy 93 toward Muzquiz. I kept
a close eye on my rearview mirror to ensure I didn’t lose anyone. Just 10
miles prior to reaching Muzquiz the headlights in my rearview disappeared. Scott’s KLR had been on reserve for the past 30 miles and he desperately
needed fuel. We tapped into our reserve putting 1 gallon in his tank and 1
in my Wee. Everyone else said they were okay.
About 15 minutes later, after 13 long hours in the saddle, we pulled into a
Pemex gas station in Muzquiz. We had made it. Without question this had been
the longest, hardest day I had ever spent on a motorcycle. I loved it.
At this point a reasonable person would have just found a motel, a bite to
eat, and gone to bed. Turns out none of us were reasonable people. Then we met Paul and our adventure took a very strange turn.
Friday Night
