So where were we? On the road between la frontera and Saltillo, If I recall correctly. Well, the toll road between the border and Saltillo is wide, sparsley populated and d...e...r...e...c...h...o. Derecho como una flecha. Flecha. Fletcher. Flecha, Fletcher, flecha, Fletcher. Hmmm? Oh, wait, I digress. Sorry, I am easily distracted.
We ride the arrow-straight toll road for a hundred miles or so until we run into (figuratively, not literally, thank goodness) these guys:
They are the PFP (Policia Federal Preventiva) and are looking for drugs, guns and money (where's Warren Zevon when you need him?) with a a big x-ray machine that you drive through. I chatted with one of the officers for a minute and they decided, like most times, that motorcyclists are too weird or worthless to mess with and they flag us on. Wait. I have some questions for you! Like any good cop, these guys picked a spot for their interdiction efforts next to the only restaurant we had seen for 70 miles. So, I asked about the food. The officer told me it is great. Good enough for us.
Viejo sat down to his first meal in Mexico.
I had been giving Viejo sage advice to ease his mind about food in Mexico. You know the drill. Watch the ice, don't eat lettuce and unpeeled fruit, water from a bottle only, yada, yada, yada. As I am about to take a sip of my coffee Viejo says, "What about the coffee?". To the sound of a needle scratching across a record in my head I pause with the cup at my lips, the smell of coffee curling into my right nostril and look at him askance. "What about the coffee?" I respond. "Well, coffee water isn't actually boiled and, well, you said not to drink water you don't see come from a bottle. I'm just saying."
Doh! Double doh! I have been drinking coffee in Mexico for years with no problem but also never thought of that. Of course, I am going to drink it. Of course I am going to have angst. Of course I will not enjoy it now. Sigh.
Later the PFP wander in to eat and sit down eating breakfast and watching, of all things, Serpico in Spanish.
Out in the parking lot we spot a typical campesino rat bike. That is a floor pump with a canvas hose circa about 1952 strapped to the engine guard.
I ate farm fresh eggs with yolks as orange as a setting sun and we headed out to make Saltillo by afternoon.
We quickly found our hotel - a nice place two blocks of the zocalo where AusWife and I have evaded the local constabulary, er,
stayed before (it's a long story for another time!). It has great rooms with two king beds and a secluded, secure courtyard (good for hiding from the law!) for $500NP per night.
Guapo seriously considers 'mounting' his GS. He really likes that bike but reluctantly decides to go see the town with us instead.
With no further adieu, Saltillo in pictures (mostly Guapo's - they're the good ones):
Please allow me a short maudlin detour. One of the things I like most in life are those serendipitous moments that remind you the world is a much smaller place than it seems. I was fortunate to have several such moments on this trip. As I mentioned earlier, last time I traveled to Saltillo was to train Coahuila State Police, Saltillo Municipal Police and Mexico Federal Highway Patrol in police emergency driving. Well, the four of us were wandering through the elegant old streets of Saltillo's centro. In the centro and near the zocalo there are an abundance of Saltillo Police. As we wandered down one side street a door atop a short flight of steps opened. A pretty girl emerged so, of course, I turned to look. A Saltillo Police Officer followed her out the door and we both immediately recognized each other from the training event last summer. We exchanged hand shakes, (manly) embraces and introduced each other to our friends - although he somehow managed to avoid introducing me to that pretty girl! Here we are strolling down the street of a city of 3/4 of a million people 500 miles from home and over a year removed from our initial acquaintance yet we bump into each other AND recognize each other. The world is not that big, brother. Of course, I still wouldn't want to paint it....
Before we know it morning has dawned crisp and clear so we are soon loaded for the ride to Real de Catorce
This, then, is our goal for the day and the place I will take you, faithful reader, on my next post...
We ride the arrow-straight toll road for a hundred miles or so until we run into (figuratively, not literally, thank goodness) these guys:
They are the PFP (Policia Federal Preventiva) and are looking for drugs, guns and money (where's Warren Zevon when you need him?) with a a big x-ray machine that you drive through. I chatted with one of the officers for a minute and they decided, like most times, that motorcyclists are too weird or worthless to mess with and they flag us on. Wait. I have some questions for you! Like any good cop, these guys picked a spot for their interdiction efforts next to the only restaurant we had seen for 70 miles. So, I asked about the food. The officer told me it is great. Good enough for us.
Viejo sat down to his first meal in Mexico.
I had been giving Viejo sage advice to ease his mind about food in Mexico. You know the drill. Watch the ice, don't eat lettuce and unpeeled fruit, water from a bottle only, yada, yada, yada. As I am about to take a sip of my coffee Viejo says, "What about the coffee?". To the sound of a needle scratching across a record in my head I pause with the cup at my lips, the smell of coffee curling into my right nostril and look at him askance. "What about the coffee?" I respond. "Well, coffee water isn't actually boiled and, well, you said not to drink water you don't see come from a bottle. I'm just saying."
Doh! Double doh! I have been drinking coffee in Mexico for years with no problem but also never thought of that. Of course, I am going to drink it. Of course I am going to have angst. Of course I will not enjoy it now. Sigh.
Later the PFP wander in to eat and sit down eating breakfast and watching, of all things, Serpico in Spanish.
Out in the parking lot we spot a typical campesino rat bike. That is a floor pump with a canvas hose circa about 1952 strapped to the engine guard.
I ate farm fresh eggs with yolks as orange as a setting sun and we headed out to make Saltillo by afternoon.
We quickly found our hotel - a nice place two blocks of the zocalo where AusWife and I have evaded the local constabulary, er,
stayed before (it's a long story for another time!). It has great rooms with two king beds and a secluded, secure courtyard (good for hiding from the law!) for $500NP per night.
Guapo seriously considers 'mounting' his GS. He really likes that bike but reluctantly decides to go see the town with us instead.
With no further adieu, Saltillo in pictures (mostly Guapo's - they're the good ones):
Please allow me a short maudlin detour. One of the things I like most in life are those serendipitous moments that remind you the world is a much smaller place than it seems. I was fortunate to have several such moments on this trip. As I mentioned earlier, last time I traveled to Saltillo was to train Coahuila State Police, Saltillo Municipal Police and Mexico Federal Highway Patrol in police emergency driving. Well, the four of us were wandering through the elegant old streets of Saltillo's centro. In the centro and near the zocalo there are an abundance of Saltillo Police. As we wandered down one side street a door atop a short flight of steps opened. A pretty girl emerged so, of course, I turned to look. A Saltillo Police Officer followed her out the door and we both immediately recognized each other from the training event last summer. We exchanged hand shakes, (manly) embraces and introduced each other to our friends - although he somehow managed to avoid introducing me to that pretty girl! Here we are strolling down the street of a city of 3/4 of a million people 500 miles from home and over a year removed from our initial acquaintance yet we bump into each other AND recognize each other. The world is not that big, brother. Of course, I still wouldn't want to paint it....
Before we know it morning has dawned crisp and clear so we are soon loaded for the ride to Real de Catorce
This, then, is our goal for the day and the place I will take you, faithful reader, on my next post...