When I reach Villa de Reyes at dusk my aim is to get to the other side of town to search out a spot to camp but having lost faith in the reliability of my map I am not entirely certain how to proceed. I had plotted out a likely looking route and, in theory, I need to head out of Villa de Reyes on the road to San Felipe but my heart sinks when I see the queue of traffic, largely consisting of huge trucks, thundering out of town down a shoulderless two lane highway prominently signposted San Felipe. Without a likely looking alternative, I brace myself and set off when, suddenly, I catch sight of a road sign at the entrance of a quiet road heading off to one side informing me that it is not possible get to San Felipe that way. I immediately think to myself – that’s my road! I turn onto it and ride a couple of kilometres in the gathering gloom before pushing my bike across a field to set up camp under a the sheltering branches of a red pepper-corn tree.
In the morning, the first thing I am confronted with is a flat tyre but as soon as it is sorted I am on my way. Some enquires quickly reveal that it is, indeed, possible to head in the direction of San Felipe on the road I am following. According to the somewhat confusing logic of the Mexican road system the bitumen soon peters out and I ride for a a few kilometres on bumpy potholed gravel before the road suddenly transforms again into what appears to be a brand new highway clearly signposted San Felipe. This expanse of smooth tarmac is obstructed, however, by a mounds of earth piled up at either end of an overpass crossing nothing in particular. Ignoring this half hearted barrier, I ride over the bridge to find myself back on a nondescript paved road.
The uncertain state of the roads in Mexico.
All in all, it is a little perplexing but my hope is that this road is the one that is marked on my out-of-date map and, if so, I will be able to turn off it in around forty kilometres onto a dirt road that should take me all the way, first to Dolores Hidalgo, and then to San Miguel de Allende, my intended break point on route to the Monarch butterfly sanctuaries in Michoacan.
When I stop to restock my food pannier, I consult with the man in the shop about my proposed route. He is somewhat disapproving of my plan to ride on dirt roads, warning me specifically of the dangers of cows and cowboys amongst other, more amorphous, threats, but once he realises that I am committed to the idea he confirms that it is feasible and gives me the unexpected news that there are a number of archeological sites in the area that I will pass through. Fortified by this apparently reliable information, I hit the road again where my happiness is soon augmented by a quick snack of roadside gorditas.
One benefit to riding more trafficked roads is an abundance of excellent roadside snacks. Gorditas cooking on a wood-fired hotplate.
Before long I turn off the paved road and make my way to El Cubo, the first village, where I ask a women standing in her driveway for directions to the archeological sites. She immediately calls her son and her brother, instructs them to get on their bikes and show me the way, and we are soon riding across open fields towards the rocky hills bordering the valley.
A canyon leading up into the hills.
The two boys lead me to the entrance to a canyon where there is a small cave, the walls of which are covered with inscrutable marks.
One of several caves in the area which contain ancient rock carvings.
Inscrutable marks.
More carvings.
I really wish I knew what it all meant.
After I release my two slightly reluctant guides from their duties, I sit and eat lunch, looking out over the valley.
My guides - these two boys dropped whatever it was they were doing to accompany me to the cave which I wouldn't have had a hope of finding without them.
The valley stretching out into the distance - this sure beats the highway.
The road winds its way through rolling ranch country dotted with small settlements and for the most part I ride with only horses and cows for company but enough people make an appearance for me to clarify the occasional uncertain junction.
Lovely dirt road...
...leading into a sunny afternoon...
...on my bike.
Towards evening I meet an exuberant family group walking along the road. They question me at length about my journey and invite me to stay with them for the night. I am momentarily tempted but in the end because I am keen to cover some miles I rather ungraciously refuse in favour of another hour of riding before bedding down in a field for the night.
Antonia, with her daughter and son.
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