Michoacan

The past week was a little rocky to say the least. I fell quite ill, lost a camera lens, and suffered a major mechanical meltdown which threatened to bring my trip to a halt. Thankfully, with some sweet tele-coercion from my Toronto mechanical team and some TLC from one pretty impressive bike retailer in Uruapan, I found myself back on the road.

Aside from my bike-near-tragedy, Uruapan was a world of excitement unto itself. Surrounded by the Parque Nacional Eduardo Ruiz, I visited the crystal clear Rio Cupatitzio that aggressively flowed from out of nowhere - a small pond sourced by a natural spring called the Devil's Knee (where allegedly the Devil knelt down in submission to Christianity.) I wandered for hours through the maze of stone pathways and man-made cascades & channels that relocated water for no purpose other than to amuse visitors. I entertained the idea of following a local who dove from a platform some 12 meters above the river, but opted out when he told me that the water was only 2 meters deep. Later that night, a candidate for the Presidenté Municipal held a support rally in the town square. An hour's worth of speeches was bookended with 6 hours of singers, dancers, and an truly spectacular display of fireworks. This managed to earn television broadcast, but I was more reminded of an 8th grade student election than a modern society's political campaign.

Through an estimated total of 70 uphill kilometers, I rode to and through my first experiences with pre-Columbian ruins at the town of Tzintzuntzan and settled at a hostel in the provincial capital, Morelia. Reconvening with my P.E.I. friends, I toured the town and soaked up a bit of the excitement at the launch of the two week international music festival. The town itself, however, was a little disappointing. Unlike all others I'd been to, Morelia's large civic square was bordered with upscale hotels, fine dining, and pricey night clubs. I found myself longing for the shady street vendors and greasy meals costing less than $2.

In discussing my departure from Morelia, I quote a local as saying "it's all uphill from here." A three day climb to Toluca (elev. 2700m) was one of the most physically challenging endeavours of my life thus far. While most would shudder at the idea, I have found that it has merely emboldened my passion for cycling. The stunning vistas, winding roads and small villages pocketed in between mountains kept me with the attitude that there was nowhere I'd rather be than crawling up a mountain for 2.5 hours straight - the most memorable of the hills so far. Toluca itself, a utilitarian town at its finest, wasn't a whole lot of fun. On the bright side, the $20, 7th floor hotel room (the most expensive yet) proved to be a good place to relax and wait for a ride (yes, in a car) into Mexico City.