(Double click on pictures to get a close up)

Wednesday was cold with snow in the forecast when I loaded my bags on the motorcycle, dressed like a sumo astronaut, and headed south to Mexico. Got to Deming, where the Mexican restaurants don't serve beer and the hotel "didn't have no way to call long distance." In the morning, the streets in Deming were wet and there were threatening clouds as I headed toward Columbus, the border town with Palomas, Mexico.
With some guidance from a one-legged man and his chihuahua side-kick on the Mexico side, border crossing wasn't too bad (I already had my vehicle permit from the Mexican consulate in Alb.). I had been warned that the streets of Palomas would be littered with bodies from drug cartel warfare, but the only hazards I encountered were muddy, flooded streets.

I stopped in this place for a burrito, in Janos, Mexico. The woman running the place asked (in Spanish), "Are you alone? Aren't you afraid? Nobody bothers you? What do you think of Barack Obama?" She told me she saw a small group of motorcyclists - four men and three women - last year once. I saw only one motorcycle on the whole trip; a Honda CB125 being used for postal delivery in Casas Grandes. Cool little bike.
The roads in Mexico are generally very good, but there is no shoulder whatsoever and so no way to pull over and take pictures along the route. There were many fantastic shrines and descansos I wanted to record, but couldn't safely stop. Chihuahua is vast and mostly unpopulated. An hour either direction from any town, I came across this out in the middle of nowhere and risked parking on the highway to photograph it.

This is a cow carcass, propped up on a pole with a dummy riding it. I have no idea who did this or why. Fabulous.
At a fork in the road, there was a military police check point and the guys in camo mentioned to me that there was "mucha lluvia" up ahead. I looked southwest, the direction I was about to turn, and saw the curtain of black. No point in turning back, so I rode right into it; a torrential, drenching downpour that lasted most of an hour. Later I read the "Mexico driving tips" on my Mexico map: "If it begins raining, you should either stop driving or slow down to a crawl. The oil residue on the roads can mix with the rainwater, creating an almost ice-like surface." Glad I didn't see that ahead of time, because I just gripped the handlebars and continued on my merry way. The "tourist tips" also mentioned that "motorcycle riding in Mexico is not for the faint at heart." heh.
Around 4pm, I arrived in Casas Grandes.
Hotel Guacamayas sits on a hillside just above the ancient ruins of Paquime. Mayte Lujan, who runs the hotel, used to be the curator for the Paquime museum and is very knowledgable about the area. The hotel was built with the same packed-earth technique as was used by the original Paquime civilization to build their settlement. These people were trading partners with the folks at Chaco Canyon until they disappeared (like all these people seemed to do) a little after 1200AD.

My room (above). This is the view from the hotel (below). It's totally silent up there at night.

I roamed the ruins (more later), then walked into Old Casas Grandes for tacos and beer in a plaza cafe and called it a night.
The next morning, I met some guys visiting from Santa Fe; Gary, Jack and Kim, and little Jose, age 5 (Jack and Kim are Jose's dads). Turned out we had many friends in common currently and historically (even from 20 years before, when Jack was in Peace Corps Guatemala and Byron & I were in Peace Corps Jamaica). I managed to invite myself to tour the area with them on Friday in their little SUV.
We had arranged ahead of time through Mayte (owner of Guacamayas) to have lunch and a tour of Hacienda San Diego on the way to the next village, Mata Ortiz. This huge, mostly ruined hacienda was built by
Luis Terrazas at the turn of the century when he was the richest, most powerful man in Chihuahua (there is also a
wikipedia entry about Terrazas in Spanish). The family who still lives in the livable part of the spread are descended from a worker for Senor Terrazas. Sara made us a wonderful lunch and afterwards her 19 year old daughter Diana Acosta Ramirez, who grew up there, gave us a full tour of the hacienda in perfect English, which she learned in a bilingual school in the nearby, isolated Mormon settlement of Colonia Juarez. Her goal is to preserve the hacienda and to develop a tourguide service for the area; it's heartening to see a young Mexican woman who is so knowledgable and proud, and wanting to share her heritage with visitors.
Next trip, I'd like to check out that little Mormon settlement and also the nearby German Mennonite colonia. The Mennonites, who have been in Chihuahua since the 1920s, speak German and wear traditional clothing (women: bonnets and long dresses, men: overalls and straw hats), but use modern machinery to produce the famous cheese, Queso Menonita, that is popular all over Mexico.
Hacienda San Diego


An outbuilding that was used as a granary

Sara, la senora (y concinera) de San Diego


One long wing of the Hacienda was used as horse stables around an open ring. While the adobes were melting away and it appeared to be mostly ruined, it was still being used the way it had for over 100 years. As we watched, cattle were being rounded up into the ring and a horseman threw a lasso over a cow to bring it down. Little Jose was very impressed with this image.
We went to Mata Ortiz, a town that historically processed lumber and would have disappeared by now if not for the inspiration of local potter, Juan Quezada. Many years ago in his youth, Juan found some pieces of ancient Paquime pottery in a nearby cave and set about to teach himself to recreate it. After much trial and error, he began to produce beautiful, authentic pots in the old way and with old materials (local clays and pigments, firing them over an open flame). He decorated them intricately, painting designs with human hairs. Juan is now 72 years old and has taught about a third of the village to make beautiful pottery, which has become world famous. You wouldn't know it from looking at the modest town.

Jack, Kim and Gary bought a few pieces and I got one small bird-shaped pot.
Back to Casas Grandes... many guidebooks don't even mention this area in Chihuahua, which has lots of interesting sites and history. The Casas Grandes ruin, which Byron and I visited 20 years ago, is now a UNESCO site, with a very good museum and preservation efforts. Here are some pictures.


The light wasn't good, but look closely and you can see a jack rabbit in the doorway here.

These are pens where macaws (those big red parrots) were raised, their feathers collected and traded with tribes all over this part of the world. These feathers, along with shells from the coast and precious stones from this area were also found at Chaco in New Mexico. Macaw in Spanish is "Guacamayas," hence the name of our hotel.

Jack, Kim and Jose at Hacienda San Diego

Back at the hotel, Gabriel, 10 yr. old son of the housekeeper and cook, was very fond of my motorcycle. He taught me the name of every part of the engine in Spanish and perched his constant companion, Carmelita, on the seat. I could hear him walking around the bike and slapping the sides of it that night and I waited to hear it fall and hit the gravel (if he'd decided to climb aboard), but fortunately that didn't happen.
Saturday morning I had breakfast at the hotel and said goodbye to the boys and the hotel staff. Back through Casas Grandes, up to Janos and through La Ascension, where I stopped for gas and men gathered around to admire my "moto." While they chatted about the bike, I pulled off my helmet and shook out my hair and they cried: "Es una
senora!" My Katherine Hepburn moment.
Made it as far as Truth or Consequences, NM, where I stopped for the night. The next day, north to Albuquerque from T or C (about 2 hours) was the hairiest part of the whole trip. Sharp gusty winds smacked the bike from one side and then the other, making handling very squirrely. I leaned to one side, then would suddenly be tipped the other way. Big trucks, also battling the wind, whipped by me, swirling up a sudden wake when they passed. I passed through a sandstorm that reduced visibility and got in my eyes. Finally, at Bernardo, I pulled off on side roads where there was slightly less wind, but debris littering the way and I had to dodge huge tumbleweeds.
But I made it home all in one piece with a very muddy motorcycle. Everybody seemed happy to see me, and Byron and I went out for Indian food.
ps - Note to other bikers headed to Mexico... you must get Mexican motorcycle insurance to ride in Mexico. I checked around but did not find a company that would provide comprehensive insurance for my particular bike model. So I contacted
Adventure Mexican Insurance and they graciously added my Honda 599 to the list for full coverage. I was able to print out my policy from the computer and they sent me a map of Mexico in the mail. Great insurance company for motorcyclists.