Guatemala on our minds

Guatemala on our minds

Puerto Arista – Pijijiapan, Chiapas, Mexico

And here’s what you missed on the last episode of . . . (What show was this from?):

We had two new friends – but they were kind of dogs and we couldn’t get rid of them. And we were waiting for Fidel from Tonala to send us a new tire via a mini-bus because Old Dan’s rear tire had two double-barreled aneurysms and one of them ruptured and hemorrhaged all the air out last night . . .

First the mini-bus. I guess the driver refused to transport the tire. Maybe they thought that bringing a package to foreigners who were about to cross the border into Guatemala was a drug deal? I don’t know. But the upshot is that we had to switch gears. 

No big problem, really. Just had to put a tube in the bad tire until we could find a “real” bike shop and purchase a new tire. The only real problem with this plan is that it put us out of tubes completely. If either of our front tires – that are still tubeless – had a flat we would be kind of up a creek . . . But what we were going to do? Couldn’t just sit there and wait days for a new mini-bus driver who would be willing to deliver bicycle contraband.

So now we’re on the road. But we still have our dog problem. Remarkably, these two dumb dogs started following us as we biked out of town. I looked back after we had gone about a mile and I could still see one of them way back behind us. 

“Please Master,” she seemed to be saying. “Wait for me. I just want a home . . .”

Diana was concerned that the dogs might have fleas since they never stopped scratching at themselves. And I didn’t love having them around either. But I do feel kind of bad for them. 

Do you remember in Toy Story when they talked about the purpose of a toy. Their whole lives were about having a child who loved them. Without that they were just kind of empty and sad. 

That’s how these dogs in Mexico are. We have bred them for I don’t know how long to be loyal to people. And there are some (lucky?) dogs in Mexico who are part of families and have collars and leashes and everything. But there are tons of dogs who just seem to wander around – apparently looking for a home. They don’t want much. They don’t seem to need food. They just want to fulfill the life mission that us people gave them – to be part of a human family. 

I know this seems off the topic of our journey – but after spending this much time here, you can’t help but feel like dogs are an important part of the culture. 

Do you remember our friend Gaudencio from Papantla? I asked him Gaudencio about a series of statues in the main square that showed a family. I don’t remember it exactly – but Gaudencio told me about how the family worked the land and got what they needed from the land. There was a father, a mother, and a child. And then Gaudencio told me that there was a dog missing from the series of statues – I don’t remember why the dog was missing. Doesn’t matter. Gaudencio talked about how important the dog was to the Mexican family and to the indigenous families before them. The dog represents security, he said. I guess because the dog will sound the alarm or ward off intruders. 

So you see, while we ultimately ditched these dogs, Mexican dogs seem like an important part of things down here. And Diana and I are always observing that the dogs seem to think they have a purpose. 

Anyway, if you are looking for a well-behaved dog of no particular breed that will be loyal to the end, come to Mexico. There are plenty to choose from . . .

The riding today? Beautiful. Verdant green. The mountains to our left – partially shrouded in clouds that are presumably left over from Tropical Storm Sara. A creek or river coming down from the mountains every mile or so. Gentle up and down. Really, it seemed more down – even though we started at sea level so it was clearly more up in reality . . .

But like all of our days lately, the day ended with some bike drama . . . As we approached Pijijiapan – our destination for the day – Diana announced that her shifting was not working again . . .

After a little assessment I figured out that this problem was a byproduct of my work changing the derailleur cable the other day. I might have neglected to mention that when I was putting the bike back together I dropped a tiny set screw that holds this little cover-thing in place on the handlebars. We couldn’t find the screw and I didn’t think it was that important.

”The rubber cover over the brake handles will hold the thing in place anyway,” I said, hopefully. 

I guess not. Without the screw to hold it in place, the little cover worked its way up until it blocked the shifter from working – thus, Diana’s new problem.  

There’s always something . . .

On the good side, we did find a bike shop on the way into town and they had a workable tire and a tube (not the perfect size tube, but should work in a pinch . . .). Remarkable! Turns out that good bike shops in smaller towns in Mexico are not a dime a dozen . . .

So the tire problem is theoretically solved. I performed what amounted to a double-bypass surgery on Old Dan tonight; the old tire with its aneurysms is now in the trash . . .

Sadly, the bike shop did not have the tiny screw that we needed.

Fortunately, after the double-bypass I had a moment of inspiration. Last summer I switched Diana’s bike to a 1x – meaning she only shifts with her right hand now. What I realized is that when I switched to 1x I left the left-handed shifting mechanisms in place. Meaning that the cover for the left shifter – complete with the tiny screw – was right there – ready to be cannibalized. 

So now I’m confident that the bikes are ready for Guatemala. 

Tires – check.

Brakes – check (I inspected all of them and changed out my front brakes in Oaxaca).

Drive trains – cleaned, and now with new chains.

Shifting – Working perfectly again. 

What could possibly go wrong? (I’m knocking on wood as I write this . . .)

Last piece of news for the day . . . Tonight at dinner we met Maiguel, who was our waiter at the pizza place we went to. Maiguel is originally from South Carolina, but his family moved back here seven years ago – when he was about nine. He still has family in South Carolina. Like so many families – one foot in the United States, one foot here in Mexico. 

Wonderful young man. 

We are now about 100 miles from Guatemala – and closing fast . . .

Excited for the next chapter in our journey.