Trans-Mexico Part 2 Day #7 Lomazóyatl to Coicoycán de las Flores

Trans-Mexico Part 2 - Day #7

January 8, 2023

Lomazóyatl to Coicoycán de las Flores - 32 Km

Start 7:51am Finish 6:46pm

Total Duration 10:55

Moving Time 3:37

Stopped Time 7:18

Ascent 1,233m

Descent 1,220m

Tour Total 556km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/110967558

I tossed and turned in my tent last night. My legs were itchy and I couldn’t stop scratching. I was hot and later got cold. Dogs were barking down in the valley and I could hear trucks up on the road. I finally fell asleep, and had vivid dreams. I woke up before my alarm and there was already light in the sky. My tent was taking up the width of the trail, and it was time to get going.

I could hear someone walking around my tent, while I was still inside putting on my clothes and packing. Then a large animal, either a goat or a donkey, walked past the tent. By the time the next guy showed up, my tent had been disassembled. A white car was parked at the trailhead. I apologized and he replied that it wasn't a problem. I was completely packed and getting ready to leave when four more men came walking down the path. One of them didn’t seem too happy with my having camped there. There was a herd of eager goats, waiting up above. A waning full moon was still in the sky.

I walked back up to the road and stopped for a moment to clean my filthy sunglasses. I plugged in a Duane Train episode and began pedaling. After two kilometers I came to a fork, where I took a left on dirt and gravel. I was now headed through territory that had been marked with exclamation points on my route. There were warnings of land disputes and I was cautioned to be discreet. It was a gnarly section and I was tired, so I hike-a-biked.

I rode by a collection of small houses, and barking dogs announced my arrival. This was becoming a frequent aspect. A pick-up truck passed me as I continued forward. It got chunky and steep and I had to hike-a-bike. My body was completely exhausted, and I felt like I had no strength. Patrick had asked if I had low enough gearing, and I quickly replied no. Is there ever a low enough gear? I was surrounded by fir trees and was in the shade.

Gnats were in my face and began to drive me crazy. I was walking and couldn't outpace them. I stopped to spray my face and itchy ankles with OFF. I hadn’t noticed bugs on the tour until now. The grade was ridiculous and I felt like I was going up Cristo Rey for the second time. I set ten and twenty foot goals for myself, and gave myself breaks as rewards. I finally reached an easier grade where I could once again ride. I noticed that my rear brake was shot, and I was no longer able to come to a firm stop.

The gnats were driving me out of my mind, and I kept stopping to spray them, my helmet, and my face. Several times I was surrounded by clouds of them. They always seem attracted to me when I’m most vulnerable. I donned my buff to protect my face. I came to a flat section on the ridge and a family passed me in a truck going up the hill. Their vehicle was decoratively painted, and over the front windshield was written 'Un regalo de Dios' (A present from God). My buff came in handy for the dust. I pulled over on a switchback to take a break. I kept hike-a-biking up the chunk. I reached a flat section, and by 11am had gone six kilometers. I was at 8,350' and had climbed 2,500' with an average 10% grade. The maximum grade had been 30%. I enjoyed a nice stretch where the ground was covered by large pinecones. It was a nice change from the rocks and cow patties. I came to a downhill and could see utility poles and hear chainsaws in the distance. I came around a bend and saw San Vincente Zoyatlán down in the valley. I rode by four brightly painted shrines and crossed through a little gate. I followed the long twisty route down the jagged rocky hill. I began noticing puddles and water streaming alongside the road. Water was literally flowing out the of the hill. The route had been arid prior to this point

I rode into San Vincente Zoyatlán and found a tienda in the center of town where I purchased containers of both apple and mango juice. There were guys hanging out who were watching me. Many of the small towns I've ridden through have concrete basketball courts in the middle of town that are covered with large arched metal roofs. The basketball area here was empty, and seemed like a good place to work on my loose brake. What I should have done was simply tighten the cable. Instead I proceeded to take apart the pads to inspect them. Long story short, I was unable to reinstall them, and I was becoming frustrated. By this time, all of the guys whom had been watching me were now gathered around me trying to help. Everybody had a suggestion, and I even let them have a go at it. After what seemed like an eternity they gave up. I then decided to take the whole brake unit apart and it was much easier to reinstall the pads. I put everything back together and then tightened the cable and was ready to go. What a colossal waste of precious time.

I was starving and there weren't any restaurants. I stopped at a tienda for two chicharrones (fried pork rinds) with hot sauce, two bananas, and an orange Powerade. I rode back out of town and was back on dirt. The sun was getting hot as I began another steep hike-a-bike.

After the climb, I enjoyed a brief downhill. Mortars were being fired on the other side of the valley. Girls emerged from a bush on the side of the road with freshly cut sticks for kindling. Another uphill had begun. I was in the shade and noticed a gurgling stream down below. I eventually circled around and crossed over the stream. I was now on the other side of the valley. I passed a beautiful church in San Martín and stopped at a tienda for a Sprite and some nuts. People were speaking a mix of Spanish and Mixtec.

I had read about and feared the next section. The road had been washed out and was no longer used by motor vehicles. It was completely overgrown and I kept having to use the Ride with GPS app on my phone, which consumed precious battery. At one juncture I took the tour's first outdoor poop before proceeding. The pellets were rock hard. I came to a severe wash-out where a storm had decimated the road. I had to remove my bags from the bike frame and drop everything down into a ditch. I hiked everything across the ravine and then carried it back up the other side. Here I noticed a small brown snake.

The washed-out devastating road conditions continued. This was the no-man's land between Guerrero and Oaxaca. I had to really watch my step with the washouts and loose rocks. I was making no time today and getting further behind schedule. I spent most of the day hike-a-biking. My GPS interpreted it as 'stopped time'. It was demoralizing and grueling. I carried my bike over numerous deep chasms carved into the road. One slip or false move and it would be over. It was comforting to know that Patrick was behind me. I was finally in Oaxaca, the tour's final state.

By 5:30pm I had reached a point where I could once again ride. I cycled past a ranch and noticed a bunch of guys staring at a cow. Then I caught their attention. I saw goat herds and rows of corn. I passed a field of watermelons and thought about stopping.

Utility poles emerged as I re-entered civilization. I came around a turn and could see Santiago Petlacala in the distance. The route had described it as one of Mexico's poorest villages. I was chased by several dogs as I entered the town, and the street was thick with turkeys and roosters. I was a curiosity to the kids who were spying on me. I was still at over 6,000' elevation, and it was chilly. I passed beautiful San Isidro Petlacala and Iglesia Santiago Apostol. Perhaps the wealth would be better spent here on the people.

It was getting dark and I needed a place to camp. I was in a valley with fields to either side of the road. I noticed a trail leading into one of the meadows, but someone was still working in the pasture. The road began to climb back out the valley and I couldn't go any further.

At a bend in the road I noticed a gravel area behind some bushes. It wasn't an ideal spot, but I was desperate. There was a house at the top of the hill and dogs were barking as I set up my tent. I used the stealthy red setting on my headlamp. I erected my tent and set up my Thermarest, sleeping bag, and pillow. I then sat outside to eat some refried beans. A car was coming up the road and it slowed with it's headlight beaming towards my tent. Were their eyes trained on the road or could they see me? I continued with my dinner, and was then ready to go to bed. My Wahoo was at 58%.

The car returned and this time stopped. The doors opened and several people got out with flashlights. They were speaking a mix of Spanish and Mixtec. I immediately began apologizing and told them that I was exhausted. One of the men said that this was his land. He lived in the house up the hill. They insisted that I pack up everything and come to their house, where I would be more comfortable and it would be safer. I informed them that I needed time to pack. They were amazed at my bicycle and all of my gear. One of them pulled out a tape measure and measured my wheels. I slowly got everything strapped back on my bike. They offered me a ride and I declined. I walked up the steep hill and then cycled the remaining distance.

There were seven guys in all. Some rode in the truck and others walked. They brought me to a house that was under construction, and led me inside. There were cinder block walls but still no roof. They were building a new house for the grandfather, who was just a few years older than me.

They pulled out cinder blocks to sit on and began erecting a stack for me. My seat was much higher than their single block stools. Being at a higher level made me uncomfortable, and I insisted upon sitting on a single block as well. I was amazed at the strength of the youngest boy who continued carrying in more blocks. When I picked up a block with one hand, they couldn't believe my strength and the size of my hand.

They offered me Pepsi, and soon the mezcal began to flow. They tried to teach me words in Mixtec, but I was worn-out. I was unable to understand one of the young men. Little girls peered in through the doorway at the mysterious gringo. As the evening wore down, they showed me where I could sleep and I set up my tent. It had been an excruciating day, that fortunately ended with ample mezcal.