Chihuahua city to Madera

The next morning I said farewell and headed towards the area north of the Copper Canyon to see the sights of the area. I had a call out of the blue from a journalist who wanted to do a magazine interview with me. Luis worked for a lifestyle magazine and was a friend of the people from 7.21 Café, so when he read about me on Facebook he made contact.

We met about twenty-five kilometres north of Chihuahua city at a major toll station just after midday. We spoke for about an hour or so and then he said he wanted to do some filming of me riding. Another hour was spent on the bike up and down the highway with him hanging out of the car with his camera. We stopped for some lunch almost back in the outskirts of Chihuahua and another friend of his turned up, and he wanted to take some photos. We went back to the tolling station and they took all sorts of shots of me riding in different situations, even involving the toll booth officials who waived my toll (15 Pesos). After nearly five hours they said they had finished and I rode north along the highway. Unfortunately it was late in the afternoon and my destination I was told was two hours away, so I decided just to drive on until I found a motel. Waiting on some photos and footage to post.

Twenty kilometres north I made a left-hand turn off the highway towards the mountains. Once again I was riding west into the sun, which was setting and the twisties began as I climbed to a higher elevation. It was a beautiful ride. The road was in great condition and the mountains were green with a blanket of pine trees. As I rose I could see layer upon layer of mountains in the background getting higher at the back and all were a dark rich green. The light at this time of the day accentuated the sight.

Soon the sun disappeared behind the mountains and I was once again riding in the shadows then twilight. The scenery changed fairly quickly and I found myself on an expansive plateau that was almost completely flat and either side of the road was ploughed ready for cropping.

This continued with signs for Campo 74 and a range of other numbers. I thought at first this was the distance to the camps but then realised I was in the Mennonite settlements. Small clusters of houses started appearing that were immaculate, with stark manicured yards, yet not with gardens but flat and empty all around the houses.

The houses were of a mud brick construction and they all looked eerily the same. There were large sheds of similar construction with all types of modern farming equipment and stacks of large rectangular hay bales were placed from place to place. I didn’t see any livestock or pets though.

The ploughed areas assumed about eighty percent of the landscape and the clusters of houses varied in sizes, possibly family groups with their allotted camp number. It was a very organized and controlled landscape and obvious that the Mennonites work very hard.

The light was fading fast and it started getting unacceptably dark for me to ride in so I considered stopping at one of the implement sheds and asking for una habitacion for the night, when I saw a larger cluster of lights ahead, a town, with a big motel sign pointing to the left. I pulled in and went to the open oficina. A vey conservative older lady came to the desk. She had little English and spoke Spanish, but there was another language here.

A tall lean man with a Texan hat came in and spoke to me in what sounded like a Dutch accent. He later told me that they speak German, but it is the lower German, I hadn’t known there were two levels. He was friendly and asked me about the bike and my travels.

I settled into my room that was as immaculate as everything else had been in this odd little corner of Mexico and walked to the restaurant for dinner. Sitting around a long rectangular table were about fifteen girls aged from seventeen to twenty-two at a guess, chatting, laughing and making the type of din any girls this age do when in a group. It stopped abruptly as I walked in with my riding pants and sunburnt, unshaven face. I said ‘Buenos tardis’ and was met with a couple of odd stares and a lot of averted eyes. No response. Ok.

All of the girls were dressed in a similar way. They had long ankle-length dresses, some floral, some striped, some plain. They all had long straight darkish hair, some swept back off their face and tied, but there was no make-up, no individual hairstyles, they were very uniform in their appearance.

I took a seat and ordered some food from a cute Mexican woman in jeans and long-sleeve buttoned blouse, who only spoke Spanish. My rudimentary vocabulary is coming along but the menu had me stumped and asked for una recomendacion, por favor. She was friendly and giggled at my attempts with Spanish and brought me out an enormous plate with two large strips of beef, prawns and chicken. Beans of course accompany every meal as do tortillas and corn chips with salsa, often very hot.

I listened to the conversations at the table of girls and it was all in German, which I don’t understand at all. I took my camera out and asked if I could take a photo and met with a very negative reaction. They did not want to be photographed at all so I respected that and went back to my seat. After eating I left the restaurant and said to the girls ‘Buenos noches.’ Nothing.

The next morning was clear and cool again so I packed up the bike and continued west towards Madera, a small town north of the Copper Canyon. It was where I had been aiming for the previous day. Along the way I turned into a couple of small townships and at one point found myself riding along a dirt service road between ploughed paddocks.

It was taking me the wrong direction so I took a track between two other paddocks and made my way back to the road.

Amongst all the same coloured building was this stand-out

I came to an intersection with a small town with a few shops and an orange vendor with a stall. I pulled up and he spoke quite good English. He offered me half an orange and it was lovely and juicy. He gave me another one and wouldn’t accept any payment for it. We talked for a while about why an Australian was in Mexico, then I continued on.

The countryside and towns had once again become Mexican and the usual collection of ramshackle buildings, skinny dogs, potholed roads and people staring in disbelief, and the area was very agricultural.

I think I found where they make all those bricks

Each little town has a central square and rotunda

And nice peaceful statues

The road opened up and it was quite a long run to Madera, which was larger than I thought. The main road was under reconstruction and I somehow managed to end up on the newly laid concrete, approaching a barrier.

I man sitting at a corner indicated for me to turn around, so I did and found my way along another street, looking for a motel. I saw a sign and went to a quite flash looking place but they wanted $30 for the night, which is above my budget and I knew I could find something cheaper. Eventually I did at $22.

The next morning I did an early walking tour of Madera and it looked like this