Biking West 2015 ‐ Road to Campeche

2015-11-14

tl;dr: I peddled over 150 kilometers into Campeche.

My goal today was to reach Campeche, which would require some 150 kilometers of travel. I started peddling long before daylight. This wasn't a problem because I am very far from even a village. Whenever a car or truck approached I'd simply go to the side of the road and stop.

Occasionally there are shrines off the road. These tend to be very far from any village, yet the candles are lit. I've seen work trucks stop, and the drivers light candles.

The police do not seem to monitor speeding in rural areas. However, to ensure that cars and trucks slow down in the villages the roads are laced with speed bumps. These bumps will wreck you, and they are numerous. Sometimes you will come across a dozen in a row. Mexico cares not for your suspension. The bumps cross the entire road both entering and exiting populated areas. If the bump didn't cross the entire road, every single driver would swerve into oncoming traffic to avoid them.

The landscape is much less jungle now. I'd say it is hills and valleys, but valleys require rivers, and I have yet to see even a ditch in Mexico. The Yucatan Peninsula simply does not have flowing surface water. Anyway, between tree-covered mounds agriculture has taken hold. Unlike the hand-planted corn in the jungle, there are actual tractors here.

Sometimes where there are trees, they are obviously planted in rows. They aren't pines, though, and they don't appear to be fruit trees.

The road often cuts through limestone, revealing caves that would otherwise be unreachable. I can't imagine how many caves must exist on this peninsula. When these roadside caves are close to a village they are filled with garbage.

A couple on a motorcycle flagged me down by miming, "bicycle pump." Their motorcycle had a flat tire in front of a DeKalb grain facility. A local worker provided a sturdy nail to plug the hole, and my tire pump was able to inflate the tire. Another of the workers had spent time working the grain fields of Canada and spoke passable English. The couple must have made it back to someplace where they could get the tire properly fixed, because they passed me again later waving.

So far, there are no suburbs. Either you are in a town, or you are not. When I finally reached Campeche, boom I'm suddenly and dramatically in a huge chaotic city.

By the time I reached my hotel I was on roads so narrow that the cars would honk before intersections because it is impossible to see if there is oncoming cross traffic.

Campache is an actual city. I don't think I saw a chicken or turkey all the way in, although I'm sure they are wandering someplace. Followup note: there are definitely roosters here.