By motorcycle from San Diego to Puerto Vallarta (1600 mi.)

By Patrick Ahearn

Every trip tells a story, don’t it?

I have been living in Puerto Vallarta since May and had huge urges to bring down my motorcycle. I mean who wouldn’t? I couldn’t wait to travel beautiful roads, sparkling shores and very high mountains all waiting for the unique submersion of senses that can only be experienced on a motorcycle. My opportunity came as the rainy season was ending in late October (2012). I had to go to San Diego to attend an event that a friend was directing so I decided, this is it.

A 1,600 mile trip on a motorcycle through Mexico requires attention to details. I spent a week putting on tires, doing an oil change, a sprocket change and other stuff. Finally prepared, or so I thought, I get on the bike fully packed and the battery is dead, argh! I unpack, jump in my car and go get a new battery. At times during the preparation I ran into these little challenges but being stubborn and undaunted I pressed on ignoring the three little monkeys on my shoulder that said, “You can’t do this”. Did I mention “stubborn”?

Off to a late start at eleven o’clock in the morning I had to cover 500 miles by nightfall and reach Nogales, Az. This is no easy feat on warm days, with a small gas tank and an energy consuming ride. The bike ran outstanding all tuned up. The bike and I ripped down interstate 8 at interesting speeds that set the tone for the whole trip. Finally just as the sun went down I reached Nogales. It was important that I get there because I wanted to nationalize my motorcycle since I already had an SUV in Puerto Vallarta on a tourist visa. I had not done 500 miles in a day since my last trip across the US last summer. I slept like a baby that night. I stayed at the Motel 6 in Nogales, AZ. for a mere $44, a good 30% less than anywhere else I could find.

I got up early with anticipation and just a little dread of my appointment to nationalize the motorcycle. There are a lot stories about this process, all of them unique, mine went without a hitch. I met with Carlos Meza from Marinos Asociados, import brokers. Carlos was terrific as was his crew. Two hours later I cross the border to get the bike inspected at the Aduana. It took a little time but by one o’clock I was on my way to my first stop in San Carlos next to Guaymas, 300 miles away. Crossing into Mexico was too easy, I never was asked for my passport or my FM3. I drove into Mexico just like it was home. I can’t say the process is that easy going the other way.

On the toll road to Guyamas it says “hassle free driving”, hmmm. I have three or four hours to get to Guaymas, 300 miles, before dark. Moving along at a brisk pace, a Mercedes passes me at a “briskier” pace. I latch onto his bumper about 100 meters behind and begin to consume some serious miles. After awhile my tank is empty and I had to let the Mercedes go near Hermosillo. I took a little rest and mounted up again. Outside of Hermosillo I latch on to a pickup and head to San Carlos. I was told by a local at the border that San Carlos was equal in charms to Puerto Vallarta. San Carlos is just ok but not even relatively close to PV’s charms. I arrived in and San Carlos at dusk. Ah, a Best Western was in sight. By begging, cajoling and humoring the desk clerk girl at the Best Western in San Carlos she lowered the price to $67, ultimately the third price down. I was also rewarded for my efforts with a large suite. Being pathetic has its rewards.

That night I joined a couple of bikers that came into the restaurant for dinner. They had come in from Las Vegas and were staying in San Carlos. We traded some good stories and had a great feast of fish, shrimp and octopus. Each delicious bite followed by nice cold sip of beer. The next day I would immediately be going through Guaymas followed by Ciudad Obregon, Navojoa, Los Mochis and my final destination that day, Culiacan. It would be quite a rigorous ride, so I said my “so longs” and retired for the night.

When you travel through Mexico, the best roads are thought to be the toll roads. Traveling from Nogales, Mex. to Culiacan there is only one road and that is mostly toll. They also charge motorcycles the same as cars. Paying ones toll on a motorcycle is a sloppy ordeal. You dig in your pockets trying to locate bills, coins, anything to pay and get away from that menacing heavy breathing truck standing by just two inches from your rear tire.

The next day I get up and take a deep breath and mount up. While it is not the longest ride, about 360 miles, it does go through four cities that are challenging traffic wise. The other factor affecting the ride is the heat which was mid 90’s. This segment of the ride is mostly tedious and as a result I make very little mental note of the relatively unremarkable landscape that is speeding past me by.

One thing that doesn’t change is the always curious Pemex staff that fills my gas tank at every stop. Since gas stops were also rest stops for me, I enjoyed many of the questions the staff had about the motorcycles. I didn’t hold back any of the enthusiasm I have always had for riding a motorcycle. Forty five years of passion for riding does that to you. Each time I left a gas station I would let 140 horsepower rip through the gears as a punctuation mark to my passion and my conversation with them. I knew that is what the Pemex staff wanted me to do.

I arrive in Culiacan in the state of Sinaloa late and it was almost dark. I had met a Mexican family on the internet that wanted to host my visit to Culiacan. Unfortunately I got a little lost in this surprisingly large and sometimes dangerous city. Does Sinaloa Cartel mean anything to you? I call my host and beg off the visit until the next morning when they planned to take me to breakfast. I stayed at the Paradise Hotel, my second stay there and a recommendation from me. The big surprise is the awesome little restaurant on premises, yum yum. I had a great night sleep and the next morning headed to meet for the first time my Mexican host family.

After a little drive I arrive at the house of my host, Pitty. Life is full of blessings in the midst of all the craziness, Pitty is one of those blessings. An interesting name for a woman that has endured what few could and attained what most won’t. As a child her mother and her three brothers were abandoned by her father. They moved from the country side and lived under a bridge in Culiacan and suffered much. Pitty nevertheless was determined to learn and get a higher education and never lost sight of that goal. Today after surviving some of life’s most painful challenges she is a professor who has traveled the world and generously invites travelers to her home. She has two boys, a daughter and a partner, Leo. Tragically one of her teenage sons was killed last year when he was robbed on a bus in Culiacan. Her story is the most profoundly inspirational story I have ever heard. Her name, Pitty, is a curious twist of her remarkable achievements. I wish I could share more…..

After arriving at Pitty’s we greeted like old friends, instantly comfortable spirits. Pitty’s two boys got ready and we all piled into the pick-up for breakfast at famous local eatery, El Panama. Originally I was supposed to take Pitty on the motorcycle to tour so she could show me Culiacan. We even bought a helmet for this purpose. Unfortunately they made the mistake of showing me a bathroom that remained unfinished for two years after remodeling came to a halt. It had been, well, an issue in the house between Leo and Pitty. I convinced them that we could finish the bathroom in one day. I felt like the director of one of those DIY house remodeling television programs. Pitty and I went off to the plumbing store and bought valves, fixtures and pipes for the bathroom. On my return Leo and I attacked the bathroom and won. Everything worked and now the bathroom is called “Patrick’s Bathroom”. It was a good days rest before running the last leg of my trip to Puerto Vallarta, about 500 miles away.

The next morning was Sunday and I hoped traffic would be light and it was for awhile. I initially started out on the toll roads but half way to Mazatlan I switched to the “libre”. There is some concern by some that the libre roads are dangerous at night especially when you slow for the speed bumps because of car jackings. I have travelled them in a car during the day and now on a motorcycle without incidence. In fact any chance I get to travel the libre roads I do so. They are surprisingly free of traffic because everybody uses the toll roads. Big trucks can be an obstacle in a car but on a bike they can be passed easily and quickly. The last leg to Vallarta was 500 miles and I seemed to cover it quickly. It could be that it was just the “horse heading to the barn” effect. From a motorcyclist view the libre roads offer a little more sporting a trip because of curves and hills.

Once in Tepic, I knew I was getting close which gave me a second wind to finish my long journey. It was now Sunday afternoon and traffic got heavier as I got nearer to Puerto Vallarta, most notably the traffic coming from PV. As most who have made this journey, one notices the greenery increases dramatically from Tepic on. Temperatures also come down, a welcome doormat for returning to Puerto Vallarta. I had made good time and arrived in Puerto Vallarta with a couple of hours of sunlight still left. As I got closer to home, the familiar of everything said welcome back.

What an adventure, one made to be played back in my reverie from time to time by invitation or not. I wait for all of its parts to be told separately or together.

Every trip tells a story, don’t it?