Down but not out...

Spent three days broken down in Puerto Vallarta waiting for a part to be delivered from Guadalajara. (By the way, Puerta Vallarta is not a bad place to be broken down). I also made two new friends, Raphael, the owner of a motorcycle shop in Nuevo Vallarta, and Art, an awesome guy, harley rider, and ex-canadien now living in a little town called La Pineta, a couple hours north of Puerto Vallarta. I wont go into the details and I have no pics to share but it included this mucho loco gringo knocking on doors of complete strangers asking for help in the middle of the night and in the middle of no where, a ride on the back of Raphael's roaring harley into Puerto Vallarta at 4am, and a bit of tequila and cervaza. I will have to share this story with all of you the next time I see you.

Once the fix was complete, I decided that because I was now over budget due to the fix, I would head back north. The trip back would be without any real research as I had done for the trip to date. (I spent about three months planning the routes, talking to other folks who had made the ride through Baja, etc). So I would more or less would be flying by the seat of my pants. Just to make things a little more interesting, I decided to take a short-cut; across and then north through the heart and interior of Mexico. Of course my first day's ride of the return norte had to include a bit of Tequila.
Not sure which came first, the Jose Cuervo plant or this beautiful church in Tequila?

Coming out of Tequila and heading towards Guadalajara, as I was picking up speed from a stop, a snarling, gnarling, pack of dogs came fighting out into the dusty heated street. I checked my rear view mirrors and had a line of trucks on my tail and there was no shoulder on the road to bail out on. I tapped my brakes only lightly out of fear of getting rear ended, and unfortunately caught the hind quarter of one of the dogs. I heard him yelp but didnt stop and didnt even look in my rear view mirror to check on him. I rambled on. The wild dogs are everwhere, (as are horses, goats, cows, and burro's), and you never know when they will appear. I cant begin to count the number of times I had to swerve to avoid them, and their carcases, lying in the middle of the road. Never the less, I was sickend by it and it took me some time to recover. But the day wasnt over yet. As I said earlier, I hadnt done any research on this route, and rolling into and finally through Guadalaraja was what I can only think to compare to riding through downtown Manhattan at rush hour. It took me almost two hours to get pointed in the right direction. The dirtball mexicans calling me yankee and asking "Que tal gringo"? ("Whats up white boy") as I was parked on the side of the road in the wrong side of town checking my Mexico state map while trying to catch my breath, didnt help matters. Nope, I didnt get any pictures of them. But I did give 'em a big smile and a"wave" of sorts as I smoked my rear tire in their faces as I headed out.

Heres a shot of me questioning my shortcut...

I kept it under 60 for quite a while as I was trying to get my mind right...

Here is a pic that I failed to include earlier in Mazatlan. I was tempted to enter, but thought better of it as I may be there soon enough...

If you cant make out the pic its a red wrought iron fence with the devils head on top, just below his pitchfork. The pitchfork reads El Diablo.

Thats all for now. Thanks for your comments and for staying in touch!