Upon saying our toodaloos to Leanne and Calvin in El Tule, we tootled off with the mountains and volcanoes flirting in our periphery onto Puebla—70 miles southeast of the capital. As well as the city, Puebla is also a Mexican state and the Spanish word for ‘seed that a gardener sows’. Might as well kill three birds…Meeting overlanders Chloe and Toby (from Carpe Viam), with whom we’d become acquainted at Overlander Oasis at an Air B&B apartment there was both a respite and a splurge for the month. Jason’s eye had just been all but taken out by a firework, unlucky lad.
Back in El Tule for the start of the town’s bi-annual fiesta celebrations, a religious celebration had commenced in honour of Saint Mary. Leanne and Calvin, owners of Overlander Oasis, chatted away to us in their usual style; unhindered with a lifetime of hilarious stories. Some anecdotes never failed to reach new levels of crazy, others were just unhinged! I adored Calvin’s sense of humour, the cheeky glint constantly twinkling out of the corner of his eye and an innate ability to turn his hand to practically anything. I chuckled when he casually mentioned his favourite factoid about the country: alongside Israelis, Mexicans are the largest consumers of hair gel. Love it! There were indeed many males who indulged heavily there. Continue reading
The pavements were sticky with heat, the roads became rivers of exhaust and steam and the air felt lifeless. Eager to leave Zipolite, albeit Pearl’s clutch cable was hanging on by a frayed thread. It’d consequently engaged the gears, which is always a laugh-a-minute when riding through the rush hour traffic. Jase executed a quick fix in the bustling thick of it all—utilising a clutch repair kit from eBay that’d been rattling around his pannier for the last 18 months—in front of an intrigued audience of passers-by. Outnumbered by traffic wardens, one guy on patrol made a beeline for me and asked in addition to my wheels, if my ensemble—item by item—was for sale. You want my wrecked gloves, why? Sorry sugar, Pearl and my girl-sized gear are going nowhere. Continue reading
I cherish the fact that our mean machines lend themselves to munching miles when scorching roads and melting riders’ needs arise. Namely blasting 260 miles from San Cristóbal to the Pacific coast—is just one of the extrinsic rewards that comes with a two-wheeled reality. Don’t get me started on the myriad intrinsic ones…Vroom! Continue reading
Despite the decent enough recommend through someone’s write up on iOverlander about Anita’s Campervan and RV rig campground, set inland in Campeche, we should’ve given it a miss and headed into pastures new. Just 50 kilometres up the road to the nearest coastal town would’ve been wonderful. Continue reading
While the mozzies and no-see-ums sucked my blood, the heavy heat was sucking the life force out of Jase. Impeccably located, the Piramide Inn Resort on the Yucatán Peninsula gave us respite from the heinous level of humidity alongside a reprieve from the unyielding insects—cue an air-conditioned room. Who knew, you can even haggle over cold air! The hungry blighters were driving virtually every square inch of me to distraction and the equally insane temperatures were melting Jason’s face like hot wax dripping from a candle. Continue reading
After the climatic visit of Tikal’s omnipotent temples amid the omnipresent monkeys, a warm goodbye from Guatemala’s border officials led to an immediate culture shock in Belize. Simply, the widespread presence of English felt odd to say the least. Especially after 17 months on the receiving end of almost unadulterated Español. I’d acquired a taste for the Mayan wilderness and its feisty fauna in Tikal National Park, so the Tropical Education Centre near Belize Zoo seemed a befitting place to make camp as any. Continue reading