Back to Creel

After a long sound sleep, I packed, orientated myself and knew what to do. I stood by the decision that Ivan’s adventure road was more than what my skill-set and confidence will allow. To continue to Urique meant the only two options were to take that particular road to Batopilas or follow the road I had come all the way back to to Creel. I decided that the latter was the shortest way back to the paved road and my sanest choice, although I feel like I had backed down when adventure loomed.

 I went for breakfast at the same restaurant and there was a school parade going on so I couldn’t leave via the main street anyway. I stayed for a couple of coffees and watched the parade, normal people doing normal stuff with their kids and community.

I mentally steeled myself for the steep, slippery road ahead. Following my tracks back I found that going uphill was less stressful for me than going down with this surface and I was able to use more acceleration and take the corners easier, rather than worrying about the front sliding away from me.

 With all the commotion going on in my head riding downhill, Ziggy didn’t actually put a foot wrong. There was one hairpin with deep dusty material right on the turn and I couldn’t avoid putting the front wheel into it under brakes and feeling the instability of the surface. Standing on the footpegs, I pushed my backside back further to get the weight off the front wheel and loosened my grip on the front brake. The wheel started to roll more easily and Ziggy tracked straight through.

A half hour later I came upon the small track I had exited the road works from and this time it was clear the road continued to the left as well, so I stayed on it. The new road came into view about twenty metres below me as I rode along the edge of another steep drop. I knew I was getting close to paved road again and in less than ten minutes I was there.

Breathing a big sigh of relief I stopped for a drink of water. I thought about the whole event on the ride back into the beautiful tarred twisties again. 

I was off motorcycles for over twenty-five years and only began riding again a little more than three years ago. I had never ridden on the dirt in my earlier days, choosing road bikes, and in the last three years had done a bit of dirt riding but not a lot. Recently I met Pat who was a motocross racer and road racer in his earlier days. Same with the old-timer Allen, a former racing rider, at Terlingua. I can only imagine what these roads must look like to guys who have spent years tearing up tracks on bikes looking for the next, bigger challenge. So many of them start when they are young and have the skills and confidence embedded by the time they are teens. I think I have some skills, because I knew my technique was sound and I never really felt as though I was going to fall off Ziggy, but certainly don’t have the confidence gained from years of off-road experience.

 My eldest grandson at five years old has a Pee Wee 50 and is learning how to ride. So here’s me at fifty-two, with a two-day course and several months of off-road experience, taking on some of the most dangerous roads in the world. A friend from Darwin who rode the Batopilas - Urique road called it the biggest challenge of his life and described it as a quarry road at best, winding up mountains to 3000 metres, with trucks hurtling down the other way. They don't move for you and if you're on the edge, you just hope for the best. 

 My reasoning gave me some justification to back away from these roads. I was still finding the sealed roads in this steep, winding area exhilarating and plenty of challenge for me.

 Back in Creel, I cashed up from the town’s only ATM; another issue that was looming at Bahuichivo, no cash left, no ATM and no-one took cards. I tried a different motel this time after the recommendation of another rider’s email and it was the best I had stayed at in Mexico so far.