Adventure : Barbados

We had a really crappy summer up here in Quebec, one of the worst I recall in recent years. It rained all the time, we had almost no sunshine and the number of weekends lost to bad weather still makes me cringe.

While hiking the Katahdin range with The Dragonfly at the end of September, under yet another  cold and rainy sky, she lost her usual positivity. “I’ve had it”, she said. “Let’s go somewhere sunny for our October vacation”. The original plan to run Javelina Jundred took a quick 180 and, a couple hours later, we were booked for Barbados.

We opted for a flight-and-accomodation package, because we’re not much the all-inclusive types and we like to support the local economy when we travel. We chose The Meridian Inn (http://www.meridianinn.com/) , a cute, clean local little hotel by Dover Beach in Christchurch, in a spot called the St-Lawrence Gap.

Barbados' famous ZR "buses"

From the moment we exited the airport, we loved the vibe of Barbados. Instead of taking a taxi, we walked a couple hundred yards to a local bus stop where we were picked up by a “ZR”, a variable-capacity van usually packed to the brim with locals going about their day. They unceremoniously made a little room for us and our backpacks, charged us the mandatory dollar and kept going along one of the regional routes to the happy tunes of local reggae bands blaring out the radio. The sun was shining, the day was beautiful and we grinned in delight from ear to ear.

The Meridian was easily reached and gave us a warm welcome. They even switched our room to a little penthouse apartment at no cost. We had an awesome rooftop terrace of our own with an ocean view, and the friendly staff made us feel right at home.

Barbados has truly outstanding beaches, and Dover Beach is no exception. Amazing fine sand, warm waters and steady rolling waves make the country a paradise for all water sports. Needless to say, we were really happy we had brought our snorkeling kits, and quickly decided we wanted to go diving, too.

The Dragonfly and I, swimming with the fish

We took a trip with Eco Dive Barbados, a locally-owned shop focused on the preservation of marine life and the promotion of sustainable diving practices. No fish-feeding here, that’s for sure! It was really cool to meet and share the passion of enthusiastic divers who care for nature. Dive master Andrew and our captain Mikey quickly made it clear that they favor slow, calm diving with as little movement as possible to truly enjoy what reef life is like. They took us to one of their favorite spots with abundant marine life and we enjoyed exploring a reef and a couple shipwrecks sitting in Carlisle Bay Marine Park. It was all I love about scuba diving.

Wonderful Crane Beach on an amazing day

We met wonderful people during the trip, one of which turned out to be both a local Bajan (what Barbadians call themselves) and a Montrealer. Our new friend Rudy took us for a little road trip around the island and showed us a few amazing spots like Crane Beach, with its amazing cavern, and Bathsheba, a gorgeous piece of paradise up in the Northeast. We got to meet his 96-year-old mother, a lovely lady who still lives in the house where Rudy grew up.

Going out and about is simple in Barbados; they have an extensive public transport service which is very easy to navigate. You can choose between the bigger, government-run buses which go along the main routes, or simply walk along pretty much any street and wait for the colorful horn tone of a ZR van (I swear each one has their own!), wave your hand and ask the driver or their helper if your destination is on their way. Yes? You hop in. No? You wait another couple minutes and you find one going the right way. Simple as that.


We took advantage of the easy transport system and visited spots all over the island :

Animal Flower Cave, view from the cliff top

Animal Flower Cave, at the northern tip, is a nice scenic bus ride but not worth the asking entry price. If you go, just walk around the park area, where the panorama overlooking the caves is quite stunning.

Orchid World is a real treat

Orchid World was a lovely experience, with its thousand exotic flowers and plants.

Charming Bridgetown

A walk around Bridgetown is kind of a must, although that’s where most of the cruise crowd hangs out, so usually this is not where you’ll find me.

The Carlisle Bay beach

The surrounding Carlisle Bay is gorgeous, the beach is impeccable and the scene is quite festive!

Running in Barbados...
Mind the inverted traffic!

If you plan on running in Barbados, well, let’s just say it’s far from ideal. The sidewalks are kind of random and the traffic is very dense, with vehicles whooshing close by in a cone of diesel fumes. Drivers are very polite and will make way for you, but too often there’s just not enough space for everybody.

Beach running, at least along the southwest coast, isn’t easy either because most beaches are along relatively small coves, separated either by cliffs or large lava rock wave breakers, so most beaches aren’t interconnected. There is a lovely seaside boardwalk in Hastings, but it’s not even a mile long. Barbados is a paradise for many things, but sadly running doesn’t seem to be one.

Although everything isn’t perfect in Barbados, it’s an awesome country filled with cool, nice people and gorgeous views. I loved the general attitude of the people and the ease and safety of going around. The island is blessed with some of the dreamiest beaches I have ever seen and has a lot more to offer visitors than just an ocean swim and a tanning spree.

Julie taking a picture of me taking a picture of Rudy

The week went by too fast for us and we would have loved to stay longer and enjoy more of what Barbados has to offer. Among others, I would’ve really liked to visit one of the artisanal rum distilleries and spend some more time diving various sites along the coastline.

Barbados has reconciled me with the Caribbean, by showing me it’s possible to travel outside of the ubiquitous all-inclusive package deals and enjoy an up-close encounter with a friendly population whose standard of life seems pretty good, all the while feeling welcome and relaxed. Barbados is a picture-pretty island where adventure and relaxation can go hand-in-hand; it was the perfect place for us to go recharge our batteries, enjoy some off-time and meet some friendly new faces. It was a lovely, lovely adventure!

Cubarathon – Day 6

Mileage for the day : 10 miles
Total mileage : 61 miles

I'm sitting in my room, naked, feeling the fresh sea breeze coming from the open window and grinning from ear to ear. I wasn't even supposed to run today...

I met this guy, Martin, this morning, lounging by the pool. Super nice dude. He's a retired professor and a trumpet player, and he used to be runner, he told me. “You weren't a runner; you * are * a runner”, I replied. “You should see your face light up when you talk about it!”

We had a long conversation about health, being active, enjoying life and the awesome feeling of being outside, moving on your own, being free. He told me how he regretted having stopped being active and becoming a heavier guy, and said he'd like to start being active and feeling good again.

So I told him a little bit about my journey, as well as the adventures of some other inspiring friends like Dan, Catra, Sweeney and Jack, who took big decisions about their lives and reaped huge rewards. I told him how little it took to see great improvement, and I told him about how things should always feel fun, liberating and exhilarating.

The more we talked, the more he made me feel like going for a run. We parted ways about lunch time so I could go take a nap, and I came back by the pool a little later, dressed up for running, just to see if he was around. I would've loved to take him out on his very first run, but he was nowhere to be found.

So I took off on my own, with the plan of really jogging a slow shuffle to the beach's end and back, just enjoying the view and soaking my last sun rays. The tide was at the highest I'd seen it, which made the first part particularly slanted. Tons of crushed little seashells had washed on the sand, too, and made pathfinding a little more finicky. 

After a little while, however, it seemed the high waters had leveled things a little better and I found myself running on pretty decent, harder-packed stretches. I naturally sped up a little and broke into a pretty decent pace. I thought I'd just keep it for as long as it felt good, but the miles started piling and I felt better and better, so I just kept smiling and took advantage of this sudden burst of energy, pretty convinced it would fade away soon.

I reached the end of the beach faster than I expected, and I decided to not take a break at all and turn around, see if the wind at my back would lift me up a little bit and help me keep going. Pretty soon, I was running much faster than I was on my way out. To hell with it, I thought; if I crash later on, I have a gel or two in my pack, so why not? Let the five-year-old out!

Instead of speeding even faster, I just picked a good clip and tried to stay with it for the rest of the run. I'd say I was close to the effort of running a faster 10k, but on sand, splashing through some incoming waves every once in a while. I was facing the setting sun and the wind was at my back, which made for a dreamy running setup. It felt awesome to be out.

Soon enough, I reached the half-way point and my energy was still high. I started smirking at the idea of making Dan's GPS say I ran a record again, even if I realized how childish this was. It just made me smile and motivated to keep going. I think I even sped up a little, for good measure.

I really realized I was going pretty fast when I saw another runner on the horizon, who seemed to have a similar running pace as my usual. I caught up and swooshed by like it was no one's business, feeling strong and hungry for more. At this point, I know the beach pretty well and I counted the coves to my finishing point, so I had a precise idea of the distance left and the effort I could put.

I finished going pretty much all out for a solid 2k, not sprinting but pushing it as hard as I could. I reached my end of the beach knowing I could've gone a solid extra 3 or 4 at the same pace and I felt like a tiger. I ran the asphalt street all the way to the hotel and finally pushed the stop button on the Garmin.

“New 5K record”, it first beeped.

“New 10K record”, it then said.

“New speed record, 1h35”, it finally announced.

I'm really super proud. Not only am I not broken anymore, but I can run long, and back-to-back, and gain speed, and sustain it for several miles, and still yearn for more.

I'll take that any day :)

This week has been a great success. I feel great, refreshed, strong and positive. This is exactly what I'd dreamed of, coming here. I couldn't have wished for a better way to end 2015, running strong through a shiny, new, fresh, inspiring year.

This is going to be awesome.

Funny. When I left Martin, earlier, he said “Hey. Thanks for the inspiration”. I immediately replied “No, man, thank *you * for the inspiration!” and walked away. I hope one day he reads this, maybe after one of his runs, and understands this thing goes both ways. Happy journey, man!

Cubarathon – Day 5

Mileage for the day : 20 miles
Total mileage : 51

Believe it or not, I actually set an alarm for this morning. I didn't want to miss the early daylight on the beach, and the couple hours of running I could get before the sun starts beating down. I ate a Clif Bar, drank a little water, filled my bladder with a mix of water and guava juice and headed straight for the beach.

I was just starting out my run, thinking about my friend Sweeney who gets to do this most everyday and how I could get used to that lifestyle pretty easily, when I was pulled out of my thoughts by a gorgeous young woman sunbathing in the early rays, topless. I grinned wide and kept going.

I made a quick calculation that a double out-and-back would give me more than 20 miles, which would be pretty good. The beach was quiet on my way out, and the little rolling waves at my feet made time fly by pretty quickly. I ran out of beach faster than expected, thinking I was coming around to another cove. The sand ends on very jaggy rock that reminds me of lava flows, but most of the rocks were covered by sand, which I guess is an effect of the rising tide. The water was receding now, so I was pretty cautious picking my way through. This was getting me nowhere anyway, so I gave a quick look at the Garmin before turning back. 7.5K.

The beach was getting more and more crowded by the minute, but I didn't mind. Some fishermen were walking down to the water to throw their nets and hopefully catch some fish, and I really wondered how they pick a spot when everything looks so much the same to me. Is this a random thing, or is there more to it?

I crossed paths with several other runners, too, and noticed how each and everyone of them was smiling wide. Running happy. Gotta like that :)

About half way back, my legs started feeling a little weird. As I've said before, that beach is way more slanted that I'd hoped for, so I'm basically running at an angle I guessed to be about 20 to 30 degrees at some points. I probably compensate that slope in many ways, and I expected this to quickly become an issue. But so far, so good. However, the way my legs felt at that point was slightly different and I started becoming weary that my knees or my hips would get injured.

So I made a decision. I'll finish this first 15K, go get some breakfast and rest, then make this day a “twofer”; I'll wait for the late afternoon sun and head back out for another run before dinner. 

And I did :) I had a nice nap by the pool, after seeing three amazing girls dance some traditional Flamenco. I don't think there's anything sexier than this affirming, racy, woman-centric dance, with its fantastic flair and rhythmic music. I absolutely loved it.

I can't say I was super eager to go out again, the sun being still pretty strong, but the prospect of scoring a 20-mile day was appealing, for many reasons. First of all, it's a decent distance; but it's also a personal record for a barefoot run, which I find pretty exciting. I haven't run barefoot so much last fall after all, but my feet are holding up surprisingly well and my legs, in all honesty, feel awesome.

I took off slowly and built to a nice trot. I got a little worried again because of the slant, but everything felt pretty good and it felt like I reached the end of that beach in a pretty good time. I wasn't tired much, so I took a couple sips out of my vest and started my return. With a gusty wind to my back, I found myself picking up some speed... and enjoying it. I sustained it for a good distance, too, so everything went as well as I could possibly hope for.

The last half mile, I felt the burn under both my big toes and got worried that I might have blisters, but it turned out to only be hot spots. When I got back to the hotel, Dan's Garmin clamored “You've made a new distance record!”, then “You've run your fastest 10K!”. I'm thus writing this pretty tired, and pretty proud :)

Now all I want... is FOOD!

Cubarathon - Day 4

Miles for the day : 0

Total miles : 31

I woke up today feeling a little sore for the first time. Is it the amazingly crappy mattress, the higher mileage, the noisy nights, the less-than-optimal food? It doesn't matter. I'm on vacation after all, so screw it. Let's have a zero day!

It's often like this when I travel south during wintertime. The first few days are super exciting, I bounce all over in the unbridled happiness of being under the sun again. Then, a couple days go by and my body gets a little bit of a backlash. After all, I've been spending months in low light, freezing temperatures and 9-to-5 life. Jumping right out of it is exhilarating, but I also need to take things in stride if I don't want to overdo it and end up with a bad sunburn, an injury or a mix of both.

So I simply went downstairs and found a comfy lounger by the poolside, soaking in the early morning rays then switching to the shade of a bunch of palm trees under which funny little lizards with spiral tails play around. I spent several hours finishing an amazing book I started last summer; it traces back the steps of the first real explorers of North America; my French-Canadian ancestors. It's a very little-known fact, but my great grand-dads were pretty badass. Upon their arrival in their boats, many of them figured out their European ways would not cut it in this wilderness and headed straight for the bush, where they met and shared their life with the Natives Peoples of the area. Most of them never returned to “settled” life and preferred traveling around wih their brothers and sisters, learning the ways of hunting, gathering, pathfinding and long-distance travelling with the best of the best.

These people (they were mostly men, but there were women, too) were quickly judged and called the “ensavaged ones”. Most were dissed and History wasn't kind to them. They were often only referred to as “boys” or “mountainmen” by other travelers like Lewis and Clark (Surprise! A good portion of their crew were French Canadians) and the other stars of the great American expeditions. But the truth is, it was French-Canadians, accompanied by their new families (mostly natives, but also some freed or runaway slaves and the Metis of the Canadian Prairies as well) who were the first non-natives to see and travel the bulk of North America.

Reconnecting with this part of History made me realize that I am not as estranged as I think about my own culture; I am simply kindred with the ones “the civilized world” overlooked and dismissed, even though they were the true backbone of the early days of the white man in this new continent.

Important sidenote; I learned that the very vast majority of the Ensavaged Ones were welcomed with open arms by our Native brothers and sisters, who were impressed with their openness and honored by the respect and interest these wild men showed them. My ancestors lived by the hundreds (if not thousands) peacefully with many different tribes, embracing their way of life and thriving with them, often refusing to go anywhere without their clan, much less settle back into the white villages that were developing everywhere. They relentlessly defended the rights of the First Nations, often to their great disadvantage, and they married and had families inside their clan which also brought a lot of judgement and racism upon them. But they didn't care. They had discovered an amazing, wild, challenging way of life that respected Nature and brought them exaltation and many adventures. I'm extremely proud of how they approached their new life, acknowledging and respecting the First Nations and blending with them completely, as equals, as should be. If History had given the Ensavaged Ones the role they deserved, we would live in a much different world today.

My book left me yearning for more and motivated me to keep reading about these brave men and women who ended up merely a sidenote of North American history. It helped me understand that I, as an apple, have finally ended up not falling so far from the tree. I share the values, curiosity, sense of kinship and taste for adventure of the Ensavaged Ones. If I had lived in that era, I would've done the exact same thing as they have.

I daydreamed the rest of my afternoon, imagining the crazy untold adventures of Étienne Brûlé, Guillaume Couture, John McLaughlin, Louis Jolliet, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau and all the others. I got plenty of rest, ate three good meals and enjoyed the gorgeous Cuban weather.

Before long, I started to feel the urge of going for a run again. I love this feeling; it means my body wants it as much as my spirit. I'm rested, I'm happy and I'm ready for more.

Cubarathon – Day 2

Miles for the day : 6
Total miles : 18

Remember yesterday, when I stopped to re-fit my sandals and tape up my toes? Turns out I left my roll of Band-Aid tape somewhere on that bench! That stuff is the only tape I know that stretches, has a soft padded material and stays on even if you sweat, so I was really bummed when I flipped my vest upside down and inside out and couldn't find the brand new roll I'd brought.

So instead of running the beach today, I put my shoes on (no tape, no sandals) and headed back the same way I headed yesterday. Funny how distance seems so much smaller when you run a route for the second time. In what felt like minutes, I was there, at the little public park with benches, looking all around. No luck. No tape. It's just gone. Ah, well.

Since I was already out and wearing shoes, I figured I'd make this run a little road adventure. The street my hotel's on has several nice shaded sidewalk stretches, so the mid-day sun wasn't too brutal. I'm already doing better in the humid heat, too, which means I can breathe well and not feel smothered by the damp sea air.

I probably picked up some speed, because I started to feel really, really hot soon after. Dodging fat tourists around the sidewalks felt like a game, and I guess I was imagining myself a super nimble parkour runner or a ninja. I decided to take a break under a big tree, drink some water and chill for a couple minutes.

Almost immediately after resuming my run, I ended up at the same crossroad joining the autopista. I really didn't feel like running along that thing again, so I veered right and aimed for the first street that would take me back to the village. I crossed a pretty little fair with playing kids, restaurants, cafes where friends sat to have a drink and chat. I think I like Varadero much better than any other place I've seen in this country.

Lost in thoughts, I just kept jogging along, twisting between rows of slow beachgoers and tourists, winking at local kids and smiling wide. The day was very hot, however, and I remember being surprised at how much I was sweating. Before long, I realized I had gotten back to my starting point, and the hotel lobby felt very, very appealing. The midday heat had made me feel a little dizzy and the prospect of a cold beer under the shade got the last part of my motivation. I called it a day at a little over six miles, spent several more minutes stretching in the shade and enjoyed the rest of day napping in a lounger, reading a book and fantasizing on awesome exotic fruits, champagne and lobsters.

On a sidenote, I discovered that some of the food served at the hotel is actually quite decent. They make a very simple, paella-like rice dish that's very tasty and they serve root vegetables I'm not sure I've ever had before. One is pasty and orange and reminds me of yucca, the other one is tubular and looks like a potato, but is very fibery and has some sort of “spine” you can't eat. This particular one I like a lot. And since they serve both fresh-cut and cooked cabbage, I'm pretty happy with what I eat!

I'll go to bed early tonight and see if I can wake up earlier and head for the beach for an early morning long run tomorrow. Aside from a couple blisters, my body feels great and eager for more!

Cubarathon – Day 1

Welcome to my little playground :)

Miles for the day : 12

With my body constantly getting better and my fitness almost back where I want it to be, thanks to an unbelievable autumn and early winter that were the mildest on record, I decided to make my Cuban vacation a personal winter training camp. I brought three times more running gear than standard clothes and enough gels and bars to run a hundred mile race. Actually, if everything goes well, I should pull off about that distance if I streak and remain constant... Hell if it goes better than planned, I might run more than that. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I got here yesterday night, eager to start a week of running and relaxing in the sun. I'm on my own, which has a lot of advantages. I do what I want, when I want, I can sleep, eat or simply be contemplative to my heart's content.

My hotel is indescribably crappy, with chipped walls, rotten doorways and terrible mattresses, but I find it has a lot of charm for some reason. I don't know if it's because my Spanish has become so much better, but the personnel is super friendly and even random people I met on my run today were open, helpful and smiley. That makes me happy, because my previous Cuban experiences have never been too great, socially speaking.

I woke up at my own rhythm this morning, after a night of watching my TV's only channel, which plays back-to-back episodes of Anthony Bourdain's series. I sorta knew who the guy was, but I'd never really watched the show. I really enjoyed watching him travel through China, then Vietnam, then Thailand, making friends and trying all sorts of exquisite foods and alcohols. He's got nothing on my friend Dan, but it was fun to follow his gastronomic adventures.

As soon as I pulled the curtain, my room got flooded in the gorgeous yellow light of a sunny day, and I marveled at the blue expense that spreads from my window to the horizon. I made my way down to the restaurant, which is 7 flights of stairs each time I go to or from my room. I figured that's part of the training.

Most of you probably don't know Cuba (although that's about to change really soon), so you might not know that it's infamous for its food. Being economically choked by the world's strongest superpower for more than 60 years is sure to leave a trace, so the country relies pretty exclusively on basic staple foods it produces. Add to this fact that I chose the lowest possible grade of accommodation because I'm a dirtbag, and you've got the right ingredients for terrible buffet-style dining... So much so that I've only eaten fruits and white rice so far, and I don't plan to change my diet much if I want to keep a straight stomach.

So after a plateful of decent fresh fruits like guavas, bananas, pineapple slices and something that looked and tasted like a mix of of a lime and an orange (yes, it was delicious), I filled my running vest's bladder and took off.

I didn't have the first idea where to go, so I thought I'd just follow my hotel's street until the miles pile up. It turned out to be a good plan, since I happen to live on one of the longest streets in the peninsula, it seems. I crossed little markets, shops, smiley little kids playing outside and old ladies going about their daily chores. It felt great to see the ordinary, everyday Cuban life, as most resorts are so remote from anything local that you hardly ever have contact with anyone when you come here on an all-inclusive plan. Some people even smiled or waved at me, and I felt perfectly comfortable to wander around on my own two feet.

After about an hour, I made a stop to fiddle with my Luna Origen ATS laces, which rub in-between my big and second toes. I'd specifically brought a roll of Band-Aid tape, expecting this would happen. I took two bits of it, wrapped my second toes and put the sandals back on, with a slight adjustment of the laces. Perfect.

When I finally reached the end of my street, I looked up and decided to veer in the direction of the ocean. Mid-day was coming and the heat here is extremely humid, which makes it a little harder for me to withstand. Add the fact that my skin hasn't pretty much seen a single sun ray since the Copper Canyons, and you'll probably understand why I started to aim for some shade.

I thought I would soon reach some shaded areas by the beach, but instead ended up on the Autopista, a crappy highway filled with exhaust-spewing 50-year-old trucks and cars your grandpa used to drive (they do look amazing, on the other hand). I wasn't very happy with my predicament, and it took a while before I spotted a posh-looking resort and decided to head that way. I'd just walk in and head for the beach, I thought, and run from there back to my point of origin.

I got to the beach, took off my sandals and grinned wide at the idea of a long barefoot run in the sand, but my smile faded pretty quickly when I realized the hotel was built on some cove, blocked on two sides by extremely jagged rock formations. Dammit.

I turned back and followed the directions a nice dude from the hotel gave me. A little while later, after inhaling the black highway fumes for the second time, I finally found a little pathway that lead directly to the beach. It is probably the longest ongoing strip of sand I've ever seen; it took me straight back to my hotel, some 7 miles away. And it keeps going as far as my eyes can see!

The only not-so-great part is that the beach has a sizable slant, which means I can't run anywhere that's flat. After some time coming back, my left hip started to feel the burn. My feet are doing great, however, thanks in part to the barefoot running I've been doing on treadmills this fall. And both my knees feel perfect.

My plan for tomorrow? I'll try to wake up early and get my run early in the morning so I don't get beaten down too much by the sun. I'll run the other direction on the beach, so if my hip starts to hurt, I'll turn around and use the slant to my advantage. And who knows, if I can get some decent mileage, a good nap and a decent mid-day meal, maybe I can go on a sunset run later in the day?

Life is good.

Driving Directions to Urique

I've been asked many times about driving directions for Urique, in the Copper Canyons, and never really took the time to compile the information into a useful, single post. Well I was asked one more time this morning and decided to finally do it :)

Driving from the USA to Urique is a great way to truly experience the Copper Canyons in their remote ruggedness. It's a smooth transition from busy North-American cities to the still quietness and grandeur of the Barrancas. It's also an incredible opportunity for adventure, for meeting great people and for discovering one of the most beautiful countries of the world.

I highly recommend it!

Here's my favorite route to drive down, from Douglas, Arizona :

1. Cross over at Douglas / Agua Prieta (basically drive straight out of the border check point, then take a left, then a right, then you will hit a larger boulevard. This is Route 2. Take a left and you're on your way)

2. Take route 2 to Janos

3. Take route 10 to Nuevo Casas Grandes

4. Some minutes past Nuevo Casas Grandes, you will hit a Y-split. Make a slight right to keep following Route 10, direction Galeana

5. Keep going until Buenaventura. When you come into town, make your way to Av Benito Juarez, which switches into Route 5 out of town. It'll be a right turn.

6. This takes you into a nice ride to Ignacio Zaragoza and through Gomez Farias, then Babicora

7. In Babicora, take a right to follow the road to Route 16. When you hit Route 16, take a left to Guerrero

OPTION - 8A. When entering Guerrero, take a right on main street (Juarez) and keep going straight onto Route 31

OPTION - 8B. In Guerrero, Take Route 110 to La Junta (less scenic, a little faster)

9. Both these ways converge to Route 16 again. If you came from Route 31, take a left on 16 and a right at the turn for Creel. If you came from La Junta, take a right at 16 and a left at the turn for Creel.

10. Stay on that road until Creel. You will cross many towns on the way, the bigger ones being San Juanito and Bocoyna.

11. When in Creel, stay on the main road until the roundabout at the other end of town. There, take the right leg of the roundabout, heading to El Divisadero, San Rafael, and all the way to Bahuichivo.

12. Cross the train tracks in Bahuichivo over to the other side of town. The street will end in a T, take a left. This will take you to Cerocahui

13. In Cerocahui, the road will, again, end in a T. Take a left to Urique / Mesa de Arturo

14. The road will not be paved from this point. You'll start going up. Don't miss the Y-split in the road between Mesa Arturo on the right, and Urique on the left. Of course, you make a left.

15. You are on the road to Urique.

16. Weeeeeeeee!

Additional notes.

There are gas stations in most main towns, but if you want to be on the safe side, you can hit Mexico with a full tank of gas, fuel on the way down when you cross gas stations (They are usually Pemex) or plan a stop in Guerrero or Gomez Farias. Then make sure to refuel in Creel before your way down.

There is gasoline in Urique, bring cash in pesos to pay for it. I suggest you leave town with a full tank, too, just for good measure.

If you want to draw money from Mexico to avoid the currency exchange hassle, you can do so in most main towns such as Agua Prieta, Nuevo Casas Grandes, Gomez Farias, Guerrero and Creel for sure. Always plan that the ATM you hit might be out of order or out of money. Also think about daily withdrawal limits. You won't get far with a credit card, outside of Pemex gas stations. Beyond Creel, plastic money cards are pretty much useless.

People in Mexico will be extremely welcoming and helpful, but be advised they seem to not have a great care for giving precise directions. I've been mislead several times by obviously well-intentioned people, but who had no idea what information they were giving.

You will hit road blocks from time to time, whether manned by army or police personnel. There's at least one outside Agua Prieta, one around Nuevo Casas Grandes and maybe one or two others further down. The guards are typically very curteous. Proper etiquette is to roll your windows down for them to see inside the vehicle. Address them in Spanish at first, even if it's just to say hello. Smile, be calm. The do carry guns, so don't be alarmed. They usually just want to make sure you are not carrying contraband. They are good people to ask directions if you're unsure which road to take.

If you have to go to a police vehicle to ask directions, park your own vehicle at a respectable distance and walk out to the other vehicle. Wave and smile. This way the police will know for sure you're a tourist looking for directions.

There is plenty of food on the way, usually delicious, home-made things you will remember a lifetime. If you want to shop for your own food, markets are usually a great option, as they tend to have many local specialty items. Sunday is THE best day to shop around, since it is the mercado, the day where people from all around gather in the towns to sell various goods. They usually do this in or around the zocalo, or main plaza. This is one great occasion to practice eco-tourism and directly benefit local people.

With eco-tourism in mind, take time to consider when you bargain for goods with locals. My personal experience is they won't inflate the price much, and if they do, really, what's two dollars to you? To them, it might be a better meal, some sweets for the kids or a little gift they can now afford. Think about it!

Enjoy the trip, enjoy the experience, enjoy the views :)



If you have further questions, leave them in the comments section below; it'll help me make this post better!

The True Face Of Mexico

It's not like I hadn't been warned. When I announced I was going to spend a lot of my sabbatical year driving down to Mexico, specifically in the Copper Canyons, everyone questioned me whether I thought it was a safe, whether I thought this was a good idea.

«Whatever you do, don't drive at night. If possible, don't drive at all.»

«The worst spots are on the northern border states like Sinaloa, Sonora and Chihuahua».

«You can get shot just for looking in the wrong direction».

But of course, I didn't listen. I packed my van full of donations for the Raramuri, took two of my best friends with me and happily drove down to Agua Prieta and crossed into the low Sierra, which gradually changed into the sinuous road to the northern canyons.

Several hours past the turn at Hermosillo to head into the Sierra Madre, the road narrowed and some spots, usually on the other side of sharp curves, were littered with fallen rocks from the cliffs. Not a biggie, I thought, since we were driving a 4x4 van with decent clearan-THUD!!!

I hit one of the rocks at full speed. I don't know what surprised me the most; the immediate knowledge that something was going terribly wrong or the astonishment that such a small-looking rock could do any damage to the van. Less than a minute later, I lost all power, the steering went stiff and I had to wrestle it not to veer off over a cliff. In a couple moments of sheer panic, I managed to stay on the road, switch the gears to neutral, find a decent spot to pull to wedge the van between the rock wall and the road and come to a relatively safe stop.

I stepped out only to verify what I already knew; the rock had punched a golf ball-sized hole in my oil pan, which instantaneously spilled every last drop of my engine's oil on the road, in what were possibly the last moments of El Capitan's life. The engine was dead. Oil was dripping down from everywhere under the van. We were not going anywhere.

In the best case, we were stranded in a deserted mountain road in the middle of the Sonoran outback with a broken oil pan, at the mercy of everything and everyone. In the worst case, the dumping of my oil had caused my whole engine to seize, which meant that, in addition to the above-mentioned troubles, my van was also dead for good.

Either way, we were fucked.

Now I know, nowhere has no middle.

Here we were, stuck on the side of the exact treacherous mountain road I had been advised against. These roads, I was told, are traveled only by narcotraficantes, the federales that wage a war on them and a whole swath of shady characters with itchy triggers. We had nowhere to go, not a soul in sight and we knew we were miles from any village in either direction. Sitting ducks. A dead van full of goods with 3 vulnerable gringos no one would be looking for, for weeks. Easy prey.

That's when I was exposed, at my most vulnerable moment, to the true face of Mexico.

A pickup pulled over. The driver rolled down his window, and I tried to explain in FrankenSpanish the extent of my mechanical troubles.

«Don't worry, I speak English», the man said. «Let me pull over to a safer spot».

He parked and stepped out of his truck, walked down to evaluate the extent of the damage and quickly agreed my oil pan was gone and so were my hopes of going anywhere.

«Listen. You can ride with me in my truck, I'll take you to Yecora where I know they have a tow truck. But it's far, and they won't have your part. You're looking at several days before you can go.» When he realized I had friends with me, we agreed that he would take them and I would stay with Guadajuko in the van to try and watch over all our stuff. «Do you have food and water? They might only be back tomorrow». After I assured him I should be fine, He took Sweeney and Maria in his truck, waved goodbye and drove away.

Then things went silent. Very silent.

Alone, there, by the side of the road, I started unpacking the cargo tray that hangs in the back and somehow managed to cram all the bags inside the van, which was full to the ceiling with the exception of the bed, on which I was getting ready to spend the night. The darkness came quickly. Every once in a while, a huge semi blew past so close that the whole van shook and trembled. There was a very real chance that one of these monsters would hit the van and tear us to shreds.

More than four hours had now passed when I saw lights approaching. But this was no tow truck. It was a pickup, with two Mexican guys who started looking around with flashlights. They were talking to each other, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

Could this be it? What everyone warned me about so much? Is this really happening? Are these two guys going to rip all the valuable parts off my van, and steal what's inside? What happens when they find I'm in here? Are th-«Flint?»

Sweeney's voice seemed to come out of nowhere. «Come meet Pajaro and Roberto!»

I stepped out of the van, still a little spooked. The two guys held out their hands and introduced themselves. They only had a pickup truck and I told them there is no way the can tow my heavily-loaded van up and down these twisty mountain roads. Pajaro just smiled and said «don't worrry».

He pulled out what looked like an old seat belt – I guess it's a tow strap of some sort – and started tying it under my engine, which he assured me wasn't blown. He strapped the other end to his hitch, which only left about 5 feet between both vehicles, and both men took place in their respective driver's seat. What ensued is a feat of such skill that I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. Keeping a constant tension on the strap, both drivers managed to move together for an incredible 40 miles up and down a dark, twisty mountain road filled with fallen rocks and potholes.

«You guys are amazing!» I told Pajaro. He shrugged. «We're mechanics». I said «You are not mechanics. You guys are artists!». He laughed and gave me a pat on the shoulder. Then, noticing my rough, dry cough from a cold I've been dragging for some time, he produced a handful of candy to «sweeten my throat». He kept driving in the night, telling me I should seek out pure honey bee, and that it would work great for my cough.

«You're fixing my truck, and you're fixing my throat, too?» He just smiled and kept driving in the night. Over three hours later, we pulled into a tiny pueblo, Tepoca, of maybe 25 houses. It was late, everyone was exhausted and we agreed we would all go to sleep and wake up early to start working on the van. Sweeney, Maria, Guadajuko and I managed to squeeze through all the piled stuff in El Capitan and get some sleep after almost 24 hours of travel. My last thought that night was of gratitude, for these two amazing men and their will to help us with what little they had.

Friends at work

The next morning came quickly, with the sound of cows and roosters so typical of Mexican mountain villages. We were up for 5 minutes when our friends showed up, all smiles and looking determined to fix our broken oil pan. Pajaro sent me and one his friends to purchase 5 quarts of oil and some liquid metal – a paste and a resin that you heat up and mix to produce some sort of compound that dries almost as solid as metal.

In the meantime, the guys built a little tinder fire and placed the compound right by it.

In another feat of incredible craftiness and skill, Pajaro used a sheet of tin foil to shape into a patch, then applied thin layers of the liquid metal under and above it to fixate it to the oil pan. He nursed the mix carefully until it dried, using only his bare hands and a piece of wood.

In a little over an hour, he was hitting the pan with a stick to a loud «bang, bang!» with a huge smile on his face, demonstrating how solid his work was. I asked if I needed to replace the pan as soon as I get out of the Canyons. He said «No, this is good for months! Only replace when you're back in the States, when you find a good cheap replacement».

Then for the thousandth time, I gave him my thanks for being so helpful, so crafty and so friendly. I asked how much money he wanted for all he'd done for me. He said he needed to charge me a tow and the fix istelf, so... $150 should do it. I was floored. Anywhere else, I would've been in for hundreds and hundreds of dollars, just for the towing. I handed him the 1,500 pesos, then I handed out 1,000 more. I said «This is to have a good Christams with your family». He smiled and nodded. Then he went back in his house and came out with a huge calabassa (a very delicious-looking squash) that he offered as a gift. So we went inside the van and got him frisbees for his kids. We shook hands, exchanged more heartfelt words of thanks and prepared to head back for the road.

«You have a heart of gold», said Maria to Pajaro.

He just smiled, like there was nothing to it, and simply said «Somos buenas gentes».

We're good people.



This, this is the true face of Mexico.

And anyone trying to tell you otherwise has never been stranded, miserable and vulnerable, on the side of one of the most dangerous roads in one of the most dangerous states of one of the most dangerous countries of the world. Or so they say.



To honor my new Mexican friends, and all the numerous other wonderful people I have met in this beautiful country, I commit to learn better Spanish, to the point where I will personally translate this for them to read, right here on my blog.

Viva Mexico, i viva las gentes de Mexico!







Découvrir le visage véritable du Mexique, c'est se retrouver à nu devant l'adversité, totalement vulnérable et sans aucune capacité de s'en sortir pour qu'émergent de l'ombre des gens humbles et honnêtes qui vous tendent simplement la main, d'un humain à un autre. Le Mexique est un pays formidable, rempli de gens extraordinaires que je découvre chaque fois avec plus d'enthousiasme. Mon Pays-Ami.

Heeding The Call

There’s no denying it, I’m a disperser.

My head is always full of projects and ideas for exploration. I have a hunger for adventure that never, to this day, has been satiated. I’m a daydreamer, a wanderer. My feet have taken me to many a great wonder, and still I yearn for more. My eyes have been graced with the beauty of this world and they long for more discoveries, for the elation of being overwhelmed with sights most think only exist in movies or dreams.

Yet, at the threshold of the biggest adventure of my life, my heart is torn. I have a hard time looking my close ones in the eye, because what I see is sadness, incomprehension and a feeling of being left behind. It breaks my heart, and I can’t seem to explain with the proper words that this journey I am about to begin is not an escape from them or the life we share, but a leap into the unknown, a huge breath of new air that will feed my spirit and my soul for years to come.

Tomorrow, at first light, while everyone still sleeps, I will tiptoe out of a standard life and into something completely new. I will take the open road and let the miles roll by the thousands, until I find an appealing trailhead to run or a friendly space to explore.

I will spend the next months running and roaming free, living in the back of my van and following the flow. No schedules, no plans and no responsibilities. I will be looked down upon by some, and receive some nods of approval by others. I will make new friends and be reunited with old ones. I will live, breathe and thrive with nature, closer to Mother Earth as I’ve never been.

But before all of that happens, like many other things in my life, like toeing the line of a great race, I need to take a first step.

And right now, it’s proving to be a tough one to take.