"Whoa! Whoa!" I either said out loud or thought very loudly as the bike squirmed in the wet clay. The road was steep and I was struggling to keep control as the front wheel tracked unpredictably. Finally the rear tire broke traction and spun unrestrained. Without forward propulsion the bike came to an abrupt halt on the incline. I threw my feet down and grabbed a handful of front brake but it wasn't enough. The bike started to slide backward down the mucky slope and my feet scrambled to gain purchase. I quickly let out the clutch to kill the engine so that the rear tire could also help stop my rearward slide. It worked. The bike slid back a few more inches and stopped. "Now what?" I thought. "I'm stuck half way up this greasy hill". I was wet, cold and tired.

My day started off well enough. I left my hotel very early because even though my route today was only supposed to be 225 miles both of my GPSs agreed that it would take me over 10 hours. I didn't think that was true as I have found them to be fairly inaccurate in estimating my ride time since arriving in Mexico. However, I wanted to be sure to give myself some room for error as I do not like to ride in the dark. Especially on unfamiliar roads. I filled with petrol in Tuxtla Gutiérrez which is the capital of Chiapas. From there the road pitched upward into the mountains going from 1800ft to over 8000ft. The temperature dropped from 88º to 58º within 20 minutes. I reached the town of San Cristobol de las Casas which had very quaint historic center with cobble stone streets. From there the road wound up into the mountains and everything began to change. I felt like I was suddenly riding in a different country. The forest became a dense jungle and I started to see indigenous Tzeltal men and women dressed in colorful smocks tied at the waist with a beaded belt. This road was not a highway rather more of a local road which was lined with settlements and small shops. It was narrow and impossibly curvy. In areas of population, about every 500 to 1000 feet there was an abrupt speed bump that had to be taken very slowly. I guess that is one way to keep people from speeding! I would think the precipitous drops off the edge of the road would do it but maybe not. The weather turned ugly. A heavy fog limited visibility to a few bike lengths and it started to rain steadily. By visor fogged-up badly and I chose to ride with my helmet open, the rain stinging my face. Most of the other vehicles (and there were many) did not run with their lights on so they would emerge from the gloom suddenly and unannounced. The road was slick with rain and deep potholes littered the corners. It was slow going to say the least. Then the pavement ended and the road turned into slippery red clay. I hung in there for several more miles. My map said I only had 32 more miles to go before joining Mexico 199, a more substantial highway. I rode into a small Tzeltal settlement. People smiled and waved to me as I tried to navigate the slick surface of the road. Leaving the village I had to climb a very steep hill that turned to the left and this is where my story began.

After taking a few minutes to assess my position I carefully wiggled the bike around so that I was pointed across the road. From there gravity helped the front tire slide down the slope until I was pointed back down the hill. I rolled back to the bottom and checked my maps to see if there was any way around this section. I spent the next 30 minutes following roads that turned into muddy foot paths that were intended for livestock not motorbikes. Many children lined the road gaping at my monstrous motorbike as I meandered through their village trying to find a way out. A native man waved to me with a big smile and, in Spanish, asked if I needed help. Even though my Spanish is not that great, I am so grateful that I put in the time to learn the basics. In a pinch, I do okay. I asked him to come closer so that he could see my map and I told him where I was trying to go. I noticed when he approached that he was only as tall as my rearview mirrors but he stood on his toes to curiously look at the GPS screen. He made a sour face. He told me that it had been raining for several days and the road wasn't good. It would be very difficult. I don't think anyone would want to ride the two plus hours back the way I had just come. I know I didn't. But I also didn't like my prospects in getting up that slippery hill and what might be beyond that? I thanked the man and he shook my hand firmly, wishing me a good journey. I wheeled the bike around and left the village that way I had entered. Fortunately on the ride back to Cristobol de las Casas, the rain had let up a bit and the visibility was significantly better. I found a hotel and took a hot shower. It was a long day but a pretty fantastic day too. I would do it again.