To pass the Devil, you must kill a goat.

Hello all,

Big events the last couple of days.  We left the Huatla early and hit the rally trail,  it was no problem to follow once we got on track. Plus there would be an occasional arrow or ribbon to mark the way or just reinforce we were on the right route.

From our motel window we could see across the valley and see a small town on the ridge between two mountains, of course it was really pretty, it’s all pretty at a distance!  We had to ride to the valley floor, cross a creek, then start the long climb back up, before we knew it we were at the town we could see from the motel.  Half a mile as the crow flies and 45 minutes of hard riding to get there,  it would have taken 2 hours in a truck.

So down the other side of the mountain, cross a creek, then back up the other.  There were houses and villages every where,  very populated area, very nice though.  We were on the route to Paseo Diablo, Pass of the Devil.  Well eventually we came to a dead end.  There were a group of men there and they pointed at this goat trail going off to??????

‘No No No, weO areO lookingO forO PaseO DiablO!?  That’s Chuck talking if you had not guessed.  They just laughed and pointed at the rocky narrow goat trail.  ‘Moto?’  and pointed.  Moto is Spanish for Motorcycle, they just smiled and pointed.  If we turned back it would have taken hours to get around the mountain.  Me, being the chicken that I am, I wanted to turn around and go home.

Chuck was all excited, ‘We can do it, look it’s just this one part then it gets easy!’  Last time I listened to him he traipsed us around the most dangerous drug controlled area of the country!  I was lucky to survive that and we both agree it was a stupid move, especially after finding out two bikers had been murdered in one of the towns we wandered around and though.  Now he wants to take me to Paseo Diablo,  ‘Olkay’  I must be an idiot or need friends so bad I’ll do any thing.  Jump off a bridge?  ‘Olkay.’

So of course, photo’s were taken, prayers were said, bets were made among the locals.  The first section of 100 feet was rocky steep and narrow, just like Idaho.  Thank Diablo I have some practice there, for if I were still a flatlander, it would have been too much.  I made it to  a flat spot, walked back and took photo’s of Chuck riding the 950 up the first section.  Every thing was good,  Now we are on a very narrow trail with no where to turn a bike around.  We would have had to take them apart and reassemble them facing the other direction.  Yes Chuck, this is fun!

We kept going, it would have been hard trail to ride if I were on my 250 race bike,  but we are on pigs, pigs with saddle bags, then there are the bikes too!  The saddle bags just needed to snag a rock and that would push us off the trail, over the edge.  The next difficult section was an up hill stair step around a corner with dangerous exposure.  We walked it first,  it re mined me of the section going down from Custer Pass in Idaho, you guy’s will know which one I’m talking about, we rode it the day we went from Bull Trout, to Custer and back, well some of us bailed and went to the hot springs, but that’s a different tale.

Take my word, it was a steep rocky climb with no room for error, unless your left leg was 65 feet long and could touch the bottom.  We made it, no it was not pretty, some paddling and Chuck even had to do some pushing, but we made it to the next flat area.  This trail was flat, but super narrow.  I was scared to death,  I could feel my hands shaking, they were shaking so bad I could see the bars wagging back and forth in the mirrors.  Does a steering damper help in these situations?  I wanted to take a Valium, I went through my first aid kit, all I could find was ointment and band aids.  Well I knew ointment wasn’t going to help, so I put a band aid on my arm, it didn’t seem to help but it did take my mind off things while I applied it…

Another rocky rooty steep up hill, this one just a little wider, maybe 3 feet of trail, so it was getting easier.  Or so we thought.  At the top of this climb was a tight switch back to the right.  On a race bike, you might have been able to lift the front wheel and swing it around and be on the trail facing up.  But on these bikes, it was a 7 point turn making the bend.  Then of course another steep climb.  At the top of this climb I waited for Chuck.  He could not make the turn, his bike is heavier and longer than mine so he enlisted the help of a local to help him turn his bike around further down the trail and eventually he came up the hill, tire spinning, legs flailing.

Hopefully I got the photo, if it looks like it did in my mind, we might have next months cover shot, I’m sure hoping!  Speaking of cover shots, every one enjoys Trail Rider Magazine don’t they?  If you are here and reading this, you must be a fan.  You know who is paying to have this web site we are enjoying?  That’s right, Trail Rider Magazine.  A good way to show your appreciation would be to make sure your subscription is current.  If not, go back to the home page here, and resign up.  It will come to your home, every month, in it you will find musings from myself, the classic humor of Ed Hertfelder, Paul can weave a tall tale or two too.  Special guests have included, every body’s favorite, Jerry Bernardo, My very own brother Josh Williams, we even have an occasional Roscoe article thrown in just to keep the fringe in the loop.

I use the magazine as a source book.  When ever I want to call some one in the business, I pick up any issue of Trail Rider and flip through it and find the phone number or web address I’m looking for.  Plus, if you are a shop owner or manufacturer of any motorcycle stuff, Trail Rider is an excellent place to advertise.  It’s not an expensive place to advertise and you actually reach a whole bunch of hard core woods racers and trail riders.  Think about it, there is no sense advertising your gadget to a bunch of MX kids who never plan on riding their bike out of sight of the truck any how!  So do your duty, re up your subscription or run an ad for your products, the whole reason we are here is because Trail Rider makes it possible.  So kick em down some thanks.

Thankfully for Chuck and I, the road book said there was only another mile or so left, we were feeling the effects.  Did I mention we were above 7,000 feet?  Did I mention it was about 80* in the sun?  Of course all the hard parts were in direct sun light and we had just about finished our little bottle of water.  The trail did open up and get easier, but we had that nagging feeling of the unknown around the corner, it was nerve wracking to say the least.  Then, presto, we could see the road below us, we had made it, well almost.  We still had a fairly tricky decent, that was much harder than it looked because the dirt was real loose and the bikes wanted to slide sideways down the hill instead of rolling straight.  But as you guessed, since I’m here writing to you, we made it.  It really was a tough section of trail, just as hard as any thing up in Idaho, I want to congratulate the Mexican Enduro riders for knowing what it takes to make a grown man cry.

Okay, now we are across the pass, do you know where we are?  At the top of a mountain and needing to ride down it to the river at the bottom.  Actually, we are only a few miles from Cueve Cheve, the river in the valley below is the same one we could see from that route, that was pretty cool.  But now we have a 6,000 foot decent on twisty gravel roads, it was great!  At one point Chuck saw a short cut to bypass a couple of switch backs on the road.  Another fine mess….  Well his line dropped off some rock ledges and boulders.  I chose to take a goat path, well it was not solid, it was very loose the bike slid side ways as fast as it did go straight and I banked all my apples on that one little bush having enough roots to carom off so I could make the next hard part.  Well it did hold and I made it, you are probably getting the idea, we made the route or there would be no article. Okay, okay.  Of course we made it.

After about 10 miles of gravel the road ended at a black top highway, and we were glad to see it, we had just spend 3 days in the dirt, the last few miles very challenging and we were ready for some high way work.  Road book said, 5 miles, then right.  Ohhhh we were back in the dirt and in a 25km special test.  It was rocky desert terrain.  Again steep climbs covered with round rocks.  The ground was very white here, then we would raise in elevation a few feet and it turned salmon colored, then it turned tan, then black.  Once we got up on top, and this took some time, the trail was covered in pine needles and just rolled along the ridge top for a couple of miles, pretty nice stuff.  Then down, back through the tan and into the white.  The white road we were on had turned to talcum powder and was a hand full to ride.  Sharp square edged rocks hidden in silty dust, it just keeps going.

Out of the hills, through a town then across some giant pastures with a wide smooth road that you could run 80mph across, it was cool. Then we had a section with a bunch of turns and Chuck was diligently reading the road book.  This is where I got back at him for aggravating me so badly the other day.  While he had his eye on the odometer and road book, I could see faded arrows painted on the rocks and telephone poles.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him.  But he would ask if I thought this was the right way and I could say confidently YES,  I didn’t tell him there was an arrow right in front of him.  I had good laugh, it’s our different back grounds, he’s moto, I’m enduro.

I remember riding an enduro with my friend Brett Parks and locals had torn down the arrows.  So Brett and I were riding through the woods as fast as we could, looking for NEW staples in the trees, old staples were from last year, and yes again, we made it.

We hit the highway and put the throttle down.  We were going to the beach and might have enough daylight to make it if we just hurry.  Man we went back through Oaxaca like nothing you have ever seen.  We had seen this route a few weeks ago and just sliced and cut our way through traffic, jumping the speed bumps, up on the curb, splitting lanes, Diablo on wheels!

Okay, this time we didn’t make it, it got dark on us.  Since we are navigating by using an old globe we found, we didn’t know if there were any towns ahead, we decided we had better grab a bite to eat and plan on camping out…..  So we stopped at the first place we found.  A hut by the side of the road.  There were many friendly people living there and they cleaned off the table and had us in.  Of course they told us what was on the menu for tonight, but since we can only speak Spanish but can not under stand a word of it, we just politely smiled and shook our heads ‘Yes’ to what ever they said.  Mistake.  They brought out two bowls of soup, at least we think it was soup.  In this bowl were two crabs and half a frog.  Now being grateful and polite, I tore into the crabs, but could not find ANY meat on them, I broke them in tiny pieces to at least look like I ate them.  The frog?  Well I’ve eaten frog legs before but Chuck was insistent there were no frogs in this area.  How can you tell this by looking at a globe?  He claimed it was a bird or a bat.  Well, I can recognize a frog skeleton, and since the whole skeleton was in the soup, it was frog.  Then with in half a mile of leaving a big frog jumped across the road and we both just laughed.

The restaurant hut people informed us there was a motel 5km down the road so we risked the night ride, we took it easy and no problemo.  The hotel was very nice and we were both totally exhausted and both agree we had the best nights sleep we had in a long time.  So that concludes yesterday.

Today, to the beach!  Finishing the route we had ridden had taken a huge load off my mind, it had felt as long as we were on the rally route we were just getting deeper and deeper into the trip.  But on that last long down hill run my mood changed completely, my mental i-pod played Friend of the Devil and I was a happy camper.  I’m tired and ready to head home, it will still take a week or more of hard riding to get back across the border but just knowing we are heading that way changed my out look.  Plus we are going to the beach!  Hammer down, 2 hours and we will be there.  We stopped for gas and I left first.  Chuck enjoys giving me a head start then catching me, no big deal, the number 64 bike just does not have the power the 95 bike does, so I just ride my own pace.

Well I rode my own pace and soon enough here comes the number 95 bike, but then it’s gone and I don’t give it another thought, I just keep rolling, I figured he had pulled off to, well who knows what Chuck does when he is by him self…  So I just kept rolling, all the way to the beach.  I stopped at the first intersection and waited.  I stood there for 5 minutes, then sat on a rock for 10 minutes, then laid on my coat for 30 minutes, no Chuck.  So I start back looking for him.  It was 55 miles back to the gas station.  Well my mind just raced,  Crashed? Dead? Injured?  Seriously injured?  Injured but not badly?  Totally missing?  Off the cliff?  Call his brother?  Of course I planned on stealing his wallet, camera and any gold teeth if I found him dead or dying, or just unconscious.  I rode 50 miles of the 55 before I saw him riding in the back of a pick up truck with a dozen other people.  He hollard and we stopped.
He had gotten a flat tire on the 950.  No he didn’t have an axle wrench, no he didn’t have a tube or patch kit’ no he didn’t have air. but.  He had found a house who had a wrench that would fit.  He got the wheel off but could not break the bead.  Could not pry the tire open to get to the tube.  He had tried everything and was on his way to the next town to get it fixed.  He would have overcome all his problems, he had found an old car tube to put in or patch the tube he had,  He was very proud of his McGiver solutions, until he could not open the tire.  I knew the secret there, back the truck over it.  Yep, the only way to break the bead on this sized wheel is with a special tool, or, back a truck over it.  That did the trick and soon we were back on the road.

Okay, I know this is a long posting but it just keeps going.  When I started this trip, I wondered what I was going to write about, well there is plenty, because ship happens.  And boy it happens quick.  I was leading, going about 60mph, Chuck was just behind me.  Presto!  Goat!

Big Goat!  Big pregnant Mama Goat!  I moved left 2 feet,and nailed the throttle.  That was all the time I had, no brakes, no scare, no horn, no nothing, just a 2 foot swerve and BAM!!!!  I hit the goat in the neck, it`s body swung around and smashed my foot and leg.  My body was thrown forward.  My left shoulder hit my right mirror.  My shoulders and elbows ache from the impact.  The bike swerved slightly.  My leg HURT!  My foot HURT!  But I didn’t fall down, just kept rolling, I didn’t even stop.  Just kept going, my leg hurt bad enough it kept my mind going that direction and not in to the WHAT IF? game.

I just kept rolling, I`m going to the beach.  If I had stopped, I would have sat there saying my leg hurts until the farmer came down and made me pay for the goat.  Well mister, that goat is dead, I ain’t buying a dead goat!

If you grab the brakes in a situation like this, it changes the geometry of the bike, it changes so many things, precession, momentum geometry.  Nail it and drive through the goat.  Chuck came by and the goat was still sliding down the road.  He had to thread the needle of the other goats following mama goat.  My foot hurt, so when we got to the beach I took off my boot,  I was sure it was full of blood and toe parts, but no, there was some black bruising on the bottom, but when I took a shower that washed off, so I’m not as hurt as I thought I was, now it is completely pain free.  Now the goat is another story,  some one is having goat for dinner!

Okay, I’ll let y’all go for now, we are going surfing tomorrow so there should be some more good stories.

Glad to be here, glad you are here too.