Bikes on their trailers outside the hotel in Marfa.
Fueling up before departure.
Fueling up before departure.
The border crossing at Presidio.
A self portrait of Rich on our first rest stop.
Our first rest stop, just across the border.
Nice view from our rest stop.
We stopped in Chihuahua to find a bank.
Finally we get off the pavement. This is what we came four.
The quaint village of Tajirachic.
Sometimes the roads were rough. And we preferred it that way.
A quick stop outside of Tajirachic.
The ride between Carichi and Creel.
Another village before reaching Creel.
This would be Rich's restaurant in Creel.
Our afternoon arrival at Creel.
The colorful Tarahumara Indian girls.
One of the paved sections that we rode.
Rich escapes catastrophe.
Me before the descent to Batopilas.
Things don't always go as planned.
Rich on the descent to Batopilas.
The switchbacks descending into the Batopilas river.
Me about to ask for directions.
View at the bottom of the Batopilas canyon.
Me and Ian crossing the river.
Rich in a river crossing.
Me and Rich in another river crossing.
Rich somewhere between Creel & Urique.
A rest stop at Cerocahui.
Rich on one of the more ragged bridges.
A great view of one of the canyons.
We stopped for a rest on the way to Urique. Marc enjoys the view.
A quick stop before coasting down to Urique.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing.
The nefarious Urique river crossing. Re-oiling my air filter.
Marc rests in the aftermath.
Marc and the local girls in Satevo.
Juanita's place in Batopilas.
Marc and Ian on a difficult spot.
Marc and me on a rest stop by the falls.
Marc on a river crossing.
View from our hotel in Cuauhtemoc.
Waiting in line to cross the border back into the U.S.
Trusty Volkswagen can be seen on the right. We trailered the bikes to Marfa and left the cars parked with acquaintances at the Marfa Airport.
Preparing the bikes for departure.
Preparing the bikes for departure.
Notice our spare-no-expense approach to luggage: everyone except Marc is carrying a milk crate secured to the back of the bike.
This was in the village of Tajirachic, during a little detour before Carichi.
This is a weird picture. If I had a band, it would probably be in the cover of the CD.
On those roads, I really wished for the extra 100 horsepower that my street bike could offer.
He came around that turn a little too fast and skidded. Somehow the bounced back, and instead of falling off the precipice to the left, he hit the wall to the right. The skid marks can be seen just left of him. Very close call.
It's a good idea to put up the site stand before taking off. I should know that by now...
This is a very cool part of the road between Creel & Batopilas.
The problem is that the natives didn't always speak Spanish, and my Tarahumaran is nonexistent.
This was one of the better bridges.
The view is stunning. No picture could possibly make it justice.
We met John (right) and Bart (left), both of them on KLR650s.
Some of those timbers didn't look all that good...
This was made out of plain train rails. Bare slippery metal. I'm glad it was not wet.
Got all 6 bikes in this picture.
We were in the self serve island ;)
Moments after, Marc took a swig of 87-octane trying to prime the hose. His upper GI tract protested in ways that I won't describe here.
I was in the lead and while attempting this crossing, I hit a large, slimy boulder that I couldn’t see under the surface. The bike fell over with the engine running. I thought that was the end of that engine. It protested the same way Marc's stomach had protested moments before when he drank some gasoline at a fuel stop.
By the time Marc got his camera out, Rich was already assisting me. The entire bike (and consequently my luggage) had been totally submerged.
One bike down, 3 to go.
We finally got my bike to the other side. Notice Rich collapsed on the rocks on the right.
Now it was time for Rich to show us how it's done, on the mighty XR400.
...well, maybe not. 2 bikes down, 2 to go.
We push the drowned XR to the other side.
Now it's Marcs turn to demonstrate how to ride across that river. Oooopsy... 3 bikes down, one to go.
All 4 bikes now on the other side. Ian, good at recognising patterns, smartly decided to walk his bike across. At least one of the bikes made it to the other side w/o water inside the cylinder.
Rich takes these thing very well. I was quite preoccupied myself, thinking that my bike would never start again.
We took out the spark plug, and I washed the tadpoles out of the air filter. I kicked the starter until my boot was ruined, then Ian took over.
We reached the township of San Juan de Dios and had to stay there due to all the time we had lost performing CPR on the bikes.
The good people of San Juan de Dios allowed us to sleep in a shack that served both as storage room and as clinic.
This picture was taken significantly after the incident. When I first hit this surprise talcum spot (the size of a city block), I lost control and fell in the most remarkable cloud of dust I had ever seen. This, again, served as early warning for those following. After the fall and despite my Aerostich, I had talcum in places where normally only babies have talcum. Ugh!
We successfully connected Urique and Batopilas going through Tubares, our loftiest goal for this trip.
We took this on our way out. It is just south of Presidio. That is such a quintessential sign...
We took this on our way out. It is just south of Presidio. That is such a quintessential sign...
