Pascuales – Guadalajara: Gunshots and cars in fire, great idea!

October 26^th, 2014 – October 29^th, 2014 (390 km)

Pascuales, Colima ($1,290 mxn)

When I go out to surf, I’m well aware I’m going to be tossed around by more than one wave, but I also know I’ll make it back to the beach. In Pascuales, Colima, on the Pacific Coast of Mexico, I wasn’t so sure I would make it out of the water if I attempted to go for some of the giant waves there, which is why I decided they looked prettier from the comfort and safety of the sandy beach. The waves were non-stop, up and down the entirety of the beach, one after the other, several body lengths tall, perfectly breaking on both sides, enough for all the brave surfers out there. I enjoy surfing, but I’m not passionate for it as others. Pascuales is a world-class surfing spot, I was told, and I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that I was in such a great place… if I were passionate for surfing. It would be similar to someone in Barcelona or Manchester who can care less about football and not go to one of the city’s football matches.

Dominic’s uncle often flies into Pascuales for the surf, we coincided with him there, and we stayed at what was essentially a fancy tree house with hammocks to sleep in. We met many people there, of different background, age, and occupation; they were all there for one thing alone, their love for surfing. We met a Japanese woman, a young man who paused med school, and an 11-year old whose parents decided to homeschool him so he can surf more.

Up to this point on our San Diego – Panama trip, we had followed the outline of Mexico’s Pacific coastline. I thought Pascuales was a good point for me to change paths. I spoke with Tom and Dominic and explained I would be going inland for a while, catching up to them again somewhere else as they continued along the coast. Even before this trip began, I knew I would want to travel solo at some point, and gain that personal growth I would not experience by being in a group. It’s easier, and certainly more comfortable, to travel in small groups; you work as a team and you have multiple solutions to any problem that comes up. It is simpler. This does not mean I like to complicate myself, well, maybe a little, but when you venture out on your own, you have to make it work with what you have. Perhaps I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. Tom and Dominic did not think splitting up was the safest thing to do, but they understood it was what I wanted.

October 30^th, 2014 (150 km)

Ciudad Guzman, Jalisco ($555 mxn)

Before parting ways, we decided to ride up to the Nevado de Colima, a volcano in the neighboring state of Jalisco. To reach the summit, one must ride up a hard packed dirt road through vast spaces and hills filled with tall, thick trees and a few sporadic houses here and there. You continue on that road to an altitude of about 4,000 meters above sea level to reach a few antennas, from where you can still climb to greater altitude for a bit longer on foot. I’m not sure if it was the altitude and the lower oxygen content, or the fact that I had spent the better part of the past two months sitting on a motorcycle with minimal physical activity, but I was having a difficult time catching my breath walking atop that volcano. I like to think it was due to the former.

We descended from the Nevado in the dark, with a beautiful overview of the city lights below, and reached the city of Ciudad Guzman after the sun had set, and needed a place to spend the night. We couldn’t find the kind of motel we usually choose to stay in so I proceeded to ask two youngsters outside a store if they knew of a motel, with the automated garage door to keep the motorcycles safe. “Yeah we do!” replied one of them, with a huge grin on their face, aware of what these motels are typically used for when you’re not motorcycle traveling (for more on that subject, click here). “You’re looking for Le Click”, said the other, still with a wide smile. I caught myself trying to explain we were looking for this specific style motel for the convenience of safely storing the motorcycles in the garage and… “Nevermind, just tell me where to find Le Click”, I asked them in an annoyed tone.

 

October 31^st, 2014 (200 km)

Guadalajara, Jalisco ($445 mxn)

I said goodbye to Tom and Dominic on the side of the road, I opened the throttle and did not look back. I was on my own now and it felt terrifying! I was responsible for my route, my accommodations, and my safety; there were no group decisions for this stretch. Despite how uneasy this all made me feel, I was still convinced that was what I wanted. Would it be uncomfortable? Most definitely, yes, but that was the route towards personal growth.

I headed further inland, away from the coast, towards Guadalajara, capitol city of the state of Jalisco and the second largest metropolitan area in Mexico. This city is also dense in history and culture; I thought it would be worth visiting. The city greeted me with streets overflowing with stopped traffic in every direction, I couldn’t even lane split with the motorcycle. Oddly enough, I found an empty street and took it. A few seconds later, the street began to fill up with cars coming towards me, it was a one-way street and I was on the opposite flow of traffic! Through a series of left and right turns through that maze of city streets, I reached an intersection and saw several police cars speeding down a main avenue with their sirens on. I overheard people saying there had been gunshots and cars on fire, “What had I gotten myself into? “ I thought. I proceeded to ride in the opposite direction of all that chaos and didn’t stop until the scene was calm in a suburban neighborhood.

I settled for a hostel and risked leaving my motorcycle out by the curb. I was confident I did not want to spend a second night in Guadalajara and, quite honestly, I would not mind if it was a long time before I visit that city again.

Even though that first day on my own wouldn’t be remembered as the most fun, it was, for better or for worse, an experience that would contribute in shaping the type of traveler and person I am today.