Pedal the Peninsular - Part 2
Piers is now back in the UK following his amazing journey which began on Sunday 7th March 2004 in the very hot, humid and thoroughly hectic city of Villahermosa and finished in Belize City on the 12th April 2004. The following is an extract from Piers' account of his travels with his trusty bike "Zephyr"!
"On Sunday the 7th March I was gladly leaving Villahermosa - at this point my grasp of the language was weak, to say the least, and I had already succeeded in committing some superb blunders, the best of which included asking for my eggs to come cold rather than fried and announcing that I was pregnant instead of embarrassed!
The first stage of the route took me through steamy swampland as I batted my way north towards the Gulf of Mexico. Once I reached the sea I met my first major challenge. Having christened my cleaming set of wheels, I thought this might have gone some way to sealing a consiliatory pack with the God of the Winds himself, persuading him to turn his tradewinds around thus providing a tailwind to help me on my way. Sadly thought this wasn't to be the case as I battled headwinds the entire way up the west coast of the Yucatan Peninsular. I was frequently reduced to 10 km/hr by the wind, at which point the locals at the roadside were frequently treated to a crash course in some of the more abrasive elements of the English vocabulary!
The beautiful ancient walls of Campeche offered me my first chance of relaxation and my legs breathed a sigh of relief as I stretched them walking the stunning cobbled streets of this colonial gem of a town. I wasted no time in sampling the local culinary delights during which I succeeded in bringing myself to tears on several occasions after liberal servings of the high-octane local chilli-infused salsa.
My route north from Campeche was tough with an average daily temperature of twenn 35 and 47 degrees C. As a result I was forced to carry at least 8 litres of water the whole time in the event of there not being any supplies. I normally found myself drinking between 10 and 12 litres of water a day in a constant battle against dehydration and heat exhaustion. The result was that I soon began to suffer from a salt deficiency, which would leave me weak and unable to cycle after only an hour or two on the forad. Although these enforced stops were deeply frustrating they were often amongst striking surroundings and astoundingly friendly people. I had no idea so much local gossip would be obtained in the space of time it took to sink a bottle of Coca Cola.
A source of continuous fascination was the Mexican wildlife. It was seldom that I managed to cycle more than a few hundred metres without the stench of some rotting roadside victim assaulting my nostrils, the putrification process being gently aided by the baking tropical heat. Although rather morbid it did make for a constantly gripping biology lesson.
Upon reaching the northern region of the Yucatan I began to enter the realm of The Mayans, a highly successful and developed culture dominating the Yucatan between 800 and 1000 BC. My route became peppered with stunning Mayan ruins. Rated as the two most impressive of the hundreds of Mayan sites on the Peninsular, Uxmal and Chichen Itza were conveniently located on my route. I watched the spring equinox cast an extraordinary shadow of a serpent down the steps of Chichens grand temple and so I pointed Zephyr's nose eastwards and made a bid for the white sand beaches and turquoise waters of the Caribbean coast.
At this point I had covered some 800 kms in 2 weeks and with another ten days to go until my Mum and brother Marcus were to arrive for a week's support, I was forced to stem my pase otherwise I would have been nearing the Belizean border by the time they arrived in Cancun. Then malicious elements almost curtailed by cycling - while wandering down a dark street deep in conversation I managed to walk into the supporting cable of a telegraph pole - I became a crumpled heap on the pavement. Fortunately with an overdose of Ibuprofen my watermelon sized knee returned to normality and I headed north. Stiff, sore and utterly sun-baked I made it to the glittering Island of Holbox, just off the north coast of the Yucatan where the meeting of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean result in an enormous abundance of bird and marine life - with the added delight of white sand beaches.
A days rest among the Holbox palm trees allowed me to break my previous record when I clocked 170 kms in a nine hour ride to Cancun. Having already been warned of the horrors of this city nothing could quite prepare me for the concrete jungle that towered out of the sea off the north east coast of the Peninsular. The arrival of my Mother and Marcus provided a superb and much-welcomed boost and I allowed myself some relaxation time while still gently making my way south toward Tulum. Good sleep and general R & R left me fully rejuvenated and the Belizean border was a tantalising two day ride away!
Easter Day was spent trying to find some company - loneliness was staved off by some extremely welcome Cadburys Cream Eggs that my Mum had brought out for me (Thank you, Mum!). The evening turned out for the worse as I fell foul to a tummy bug - Moctezuma had finally found his revenge (last Mayan ruler to fall to the Spanish Conquestadors, it is said he still reeks his revenge on the Gringo by striking him down with a tummy bug).
I departed at 6 am on Easter Monday for the Belizean border - I gritted my teeth and hit the road having spent the majority of the previous night in very close contact with the Armitage Stranks! Eight hours and 140 kms later I entered the scruffy and yet extraordinarily friendly ex-capital of Belize.
I gradually closed the gap between myself and the Guatemalan border, but I began to hear more and more stories of bandit activity on the northern Peten region of Guatemala. I learnt that attacks on foreigners had increased in the previous few months. In Tulum I met a pair of Belgian cyclist who had been left by the roadside intheir socks having been relieved of their bikes and equipment while cycling from Alaska to Patagonia. When the former British Military Attache to Guatemala informed me that it would "only be a matter of time before I became a consular case" I decided to forfeit the final 500 kms in the name of safety.
As a result "Pedal the Peninsular" came to an end in Belize City of Monday 12th April 2004. During my 4 weeks on the road, 20 days actual cycling saw me cover just over 2,000 kms, an average of 100 kms a day. I was fuelled in that time by a total of 190 tortillas, 290 litres of water, 43 mangoes, 37 (very cold) beers, 12 rehydration sachets, 6 Immodium, 2 litres of suncream and an incalculable quantity of re-fried beans. I was hit by cars twice and yet miraculously the only mechanical problem encountered was a single puncture - on the day my family arrived.
I have (at the time of writing) raised some £2,500 with a significant number of very kind pledges still to be received. For more information on the East Cleveland Youth Housing Trust go to www.ecyhtrust.com
There are an enormous amount of people to whom I owe my deepest thanks, however, I want to especially thank my Mother and brother Marcus for braving the horrors of Cancun to come and boost my morale for a week and the British Army for so quickly and efficiently delivering Zephyr and his associated clobber back to North Yorkshire.
In the ensuing months I made my way south by other means through Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua and Costa Rica. The English summer has some way to go before it matches the heat of the Yucatan, however I intend to enjoy it whatever the weather before I begin at Sandhurst in September.
Many thanks again for all your support and I very much look forward to hearing any feedback."
"It's good to have an end to journey to, but it is the journey that matters in the end"
Piers Mudd (July 2004)