Day 17: Telchac Puerto to Buctzotz

January 20, 2018

What a Headache!

We knew our day would begin with a 40 km run, east along the coast. That could be right into the strong headwind, which would be big trouble. We figured the wind would come up at 10, so we planned to be out of its way before that. We thought we knew that daylight came at 6, so at 6 we were at the road, ready to go. Only thing, it was pitch dark. We checked our clocks. Had we screwed up and was it still the middle of the night? Would we have to go back to our room and to sleep?

Nope, the clocks said 6 - so we turned on out lights and flashers and set off. At 6:20, somebody turned on the lights over Yucatan, and by 6:22 your could read your newspaper!

The coast road we were doing, that had been lined by boring vacation rentals yesterday, now became wonderful, running between the Gulf on one side and mangroves on the other.

Best of all, our favourite birds were all there. Even less favourites, like vultures. To the vultures we said "Forget it you guys, we have this day's ride figured."

The blue shows our route today, but you can also see what is coming - Tizimin and Rio Largartos over on the east side of the map.

The road along the water was really fine

Sensible -izers would be good, but we did not see them!

A lone fisherman. Unlike in France, they actually catch stuff here.

Vultures will do no business with us today - we are prepared!

Mooned by a Flamingo. We did not realize, but they can actually swim.

How nice, to have flamingos by your house.

The coast road ends at Dzilam de Bravo, and there is nothing, including no roads, further along the coast until Rio Largatos about 100 km further east. Dzilam provided us with some good entertainment, before we necessarily headed south. First there were wind turbines. Obviously someone other than us had noticed the winds! But the entertainment came from scoffing at our native British Columbia, were there is nary a turbine.

Next up was a soccer game, with kids about the age of Avi and Violet. The players seemed very fast. When one was slightly injured, we were impressed by the support he got from his fellow players.

We made a stop at a tiny enclosed market, near the bus station, and got fresh squeezed orange juice, cut up fruits, and two empanadas, for the road.

There were a half dozen turbines, with some construction cranes around putting in more.

At the soccer game, three kids on a motorbike with Dad.

At the mini market. Typical lack of refrigeration for meat.

The road south was a small and basically quiet one, but there was nevertheless a certain amount of traffic. The traffic had some cars, but more motorcycles and motorized trikes. For the first 5 km there were also big dump trucks shuttling between two gravel pits, or somesuch. The nice thing about this road is that everyone - everyone! greeted us and presumably each other. That even included the dump truck drivers, who always slowed if there was any issue about passing us, and waved as they went by. Or you could get a truck with a wave out its passenger window, and then waves from men who might be riding in the truck bed. It actually got a bit exhausting, greeting every darn traveler on a road!

We reached Dzilam Gonzalez quite handily, because in going South we were not fighting any particular wind. At Gonzalez we stopped to bolster our water supply, and so could appreciate the town for a few minutes. The streets were active, with the various forms of motorcycle- bicycle hybrids. One super spiffy one, while still a motorcycle derivative was not cobbled together but rather manufactured that way, in China. It was a Jinlun, which apparently is a well known Chinese motorcycle company. Sure looked spiffy. And with the rack on the top and seats in the back, you could almost go, and do anything!

The final stretch, into Buczotz, was a bit of a slog. The road surface was a little rough, the temperature a little high (36), and the wind a little breezy.

Strange large insect, with blue wasp-like body. Any ideas?

We recognize this breed as typical for this region.

We were both fairly worn out when we rolled into town, and went to find out hotel, the Tapia.

Problems started at the Tapia right away, as they said they could not give us a room because their hot water system was broken. They suggested the other hotel in town, which was located ...(who knows what they were saying). We stood our ground, pointing out that no hot water was not a deal breaker, though we would expect a discount. Of course, we do not have the Spanish for such subtle legalistic concepts, but the desk people phoned a bilingual friend, and she interpreted.

Finally, one of the desk people jumped on his motorbike and went to see if a room could be had at the "other" place. He came back and reported "no". So for less than half the original price (i.e. for 300 pesos) they put us in a room. So it was fine? No, not at all.

This hotel has two unique features. One is a full featured exercise machine gym operation. Strange for rural Mexico, but neither here not there. The other is a full featured "discotheque". This was operating when we arrived at 3 p.m., but we thought little of it at first. That was until we had sat in the room for 5 minutes. The giant sound system might as well have been under our bed. What we had was what we have decided to designate Mexican country music. It is loud, loud, and strangely tuneless. I went to have a look at what was going on, and found just one guy on stage with a mic, while all the other noise was pre-recorded. This one guy wailed on for hours. By hours, I mean it is now after 8 p.m. and he is still going. We expect he is just getting warmed up.

One weird part is that when I went there were just two customers in the place. And when we both went back for another look, there was no one. The wailer was oblivious. Things are heating up now, though - there could be as many as a dozen. We feel they are cowboys, because their cattle trucks are parked on neighbouring streets.

A preliminary survey that I did on foot turned up no obvious restaurants in a several block radius. We looked at our emergency supplies, which included what we call "cat food" - tuna and crackers brought from Canada. But we also know we have 70 kms tomorrow with no apparent towns in between. Finding a restaurant would be a really good idea!

Across the street from the Tapia was was could be a restaurant. In my first survey I was turned off by the place being plastered with anti drug and anti drunkeness warnings. I went in and thought the owner was telling me it was just appys and drinks. I thanked him and started to leave, but he called me back. We also have grilled chicken breast, I understood him to say.

When finally, later, Dodie and I were driven from our room by the noise and by hunger, we stopped in across the street. It also had noise, and we fled. We fled towards the central square, dodging noisy motorcycles, and arrived to where someone had set up a giant loudspeaker blaring .. something.

We took to the side streets and found nothing, so ending up back at the noisy, no drugs restaurant. We hatched the plan of asking them for a takeout, so we could go with it and hide under our bed. But we could not remember the words for takeout, and besides they were not set up for it.

We did somehow negotiate having the speakers turned down, and we took a table. Since we were the only customers, perhaps it was just that we should have a say in the speaker volume!

The owner kept coming along with critical questions, and thank goodness for Dodie's keen ear - she was able to pick up each time what he was going on about. One thing he asked about was desert, and since I like desert I went for it. He then pointed out that it would be "Hell Latina". Say what? Dodie figured it -gelatina - Jello. And amazingly it was a simple dish of lurid green jello. We haven't seen or eaten that in decades!

I had also asked for coffee, envisioning that it would be good with whatever desert (but not Jello!). When some time passed after the Jello and coffee had not come, I tried to back out. But the owner insisted that it was coming and that it was special and excellent coffee.

The coffee came, and soon the owner came to advise that it was very hot. That was true, making it harder to drink it and get out of there. I enlisted Dodie's help and she took some sips. she declared it insipid enough that she, a non coffee drinker, could actually down some. We looked at the large mug and at our clock and wondered how much we would have to drink to reasonably leave the rest and get going.

During this period my gaze wandered to yet another large sign warning about not using drugs. The owner spotted this, but assumed I was looking at a small carved Mayan calendar, beside the drug sign. He insisted on telling me about it and on getting me to take its photo. Normally it's fine, even if someone wants to talk at me when I clearly do not know the language. But with head throbbing, it suddenly became bloggable!

With the thin coffee now at what we judged an acceptable level, under questioning we assure the owner it had been the greatest, and made our way back into the disco noise. Behind us, at the restaurant, they boosted the volume, grateful I guess that the cranky old Canadians had moved on.

So that's how we put "headache" into today's subtitle. It displaced what would have been something in praise of pelicans and flamingos.

We did talk about packing up and just cycling through the night. But then we would arrive at Tzimin exhausted and with nowhere to go. Instead we are going to get up at 5 a.m. and blow this town. We half expect the noise to still be blasting then. Buctzotz - what a weird town!

These folks really need a word that separates streets from avenues!

The seemingly scary restaurant - turned out ok, but noisy.

The drug sign and the Mayan calendar carving.

The disco - still just getting warmed up!

Today's ride: 70 km (43 miles)
Total: 774 km (481 miles)

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