Note to readers:
We did so much each day while in Mexico…I may be getting some days jumbled up. I am pressing ahead though; JT will eventually post maps and tracks for those who have a pressing need to know exactly where and when we went and how we got there… My approach is going to be more in a storytelling vein and less a daily chronological report.
So, here we go…
This chapter doesn't have much in the way of pics and is titled:
JT Laid Low
The morning of the 14th, we left Aquismon with plans to take secondary roads to Tamosopo.
Here is the hotel in Aquismon.
We stopped for an early lunch on the edge of Aquismon. JT had already complained of feeling a bit poorly. The restaurant was new and very clean. We met the owner’s son who had been schooled in Tennessee. Emilio was friendly and knowledgeable, giving us directions to some nearby waterfalls.
We decided we didn’t have the time for the waterfalls. (To see them, one rents a boat to travel upstream.) Since we weren’t sure of the condition of the roads, we decided we had better press on.
The weather was sunny, warm, with a cool breeze. The route was absolutely beautiful, taking us through fertile valleys of date palms, sugar cane, plenty of livestock and ‘fence trees’. The road was pristine, curvy two lane asphalt interspersed with short sections of almost total washout and deep potholes. We came upon a hairpin turn that was severely washed out. When I rounded a bend and saw this sharp, rutted, rocky switchback ahead of me, I came to a complete stop. JT radioed, offering to ride my bike thru. I was tempted, but decided to try. It looked worse than it was; Suzi handled it easily and we were on our way.
About 50 miles from Aquismon, we had just turned onto a highway when we stopped at a Pemex. Here is where I discovered my small travel pouch was missing. It contained no money, but did have my passport, tourist card and vehicle import permit. We moved to some nearby shade. I was conducting a futile search of all my bags when John suddenly felt much worse and began tossing cookies into the weeds.
I am not much help with this sort of thing. Someone puking can set me to launching my own lunch. Heartlessly, I vigorously ignored the sight and sounds coming from JT’s direction. Gingerly offering him a water bottle when it seemed things had quieted down.
We decided we could not press on, JT did not feel he could make it all the way to Tamosopo. And there was the matter of Ms. Numbskull’s missing pouch.
So, we backtracked. But now we were focused on saving JT’s waning energy and scanning the road sides in the vain hope of spotting the missing pouch. The day no longer seemed so carefree.
Then that awful switchback caught us both by surprise. JT of course, made it through. I got on the wrong side of it and became stranded on a narrow peninsula of asphalt that jutted out above a veritable sea of deep ruts and loose rocks. (Yes, a veritable sea!) Again, JT offered to ride Suzi out. I studied the situation. If I duck-walked Suzi backward far enough, I should be able to turn and ride across the ruts… I shook my head ’No’ to JT and did just what I planned and it was easier than I imagined. In fact, I was so busy congratulating myself that I drove off the edge of good road and into a pile of soft gravel, spun out the rear tire and fell over sideways. Unhurt, I jumped up and watched as Suzi continued crawling around my feet until her tires were pointing uphill.
JT was immediately there checking on me and attempted to pickup the fully loaded bike. Not gonna happen. We took all three cases off and together got the beast upright.
The effort absolutely drained JT. A swallow of Gatorade came right back up. While he rested, I realized he was too dehydrated and nauseated to be able to recover on his own. It had gone from just needing rest and recoup- to needing outside help. He needed IV fluids, it was plain as day. And here we were, miles between towns. I didn’t say anything about going to a doctor to JT, I feared he would protest. After a while, though, I gently suggested that we continue; he wasn’t going to get any stronger sitting by the side of the road.
Finally, we reached the restaurant we had lunched at earlier. JT waited outside. I went in and asked Emilio where we could find a doctor. He immediately offered to lead us on his own motorcycle. However, when we stepped back outside, we were confronted with the sight of JT passed out on the grass. Now Emilio offered to drive us in his pickup. JT woke up and insisted on riding back into town. “It would be too much hassle to have to come back for the bikes later.” He was too weak to argue about going to the hospital.
We went first to the hotel where we had stayed. We were barely in the courtyard when one of the girls came running out with my pouch in her hand. It had fallen off the bike as we pulled out that morning. (I slap hand to forehead and give a big Homer “DOH!”)
We left the bikes as they were, everything on them, keys in the ignition and climbed into Emilio’s truck. At the hospital, Emilio stayed the whole 4 plus hours and acted as translator. We are forever in his debt. It took an hour of IV drip for JT to perk up a little. Emilio and I spent a good bit of that time watching him sleep. (Being that ill did not impede JT’s snoring ability. Emilio asked, “Is this noise normal?”)
The doctor on call was, to mine aging eyes, incredibly young. She had a vivacious, mischievous, almost flirtatious way about her. When all was said and done, she told us (through Emilio) there was no charge for the visit. We were stunned. On our way out the door, she had a parting shot; she looked at JT and said in English, “No more Mexican food.”
By morning, JT was almost his normal self. By the end of the day, he had a lingering headache but his energy level was back to normal.
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