THE PROTEST

It was hot. Very hot. Lechuza's temperature gauge was well over 100F (it was 40C) when riding at 90KPH (50MPH) for hours. I decided to pull over at the next gas station I saw to hydrate with electrolytes and cool fresh bottled water while I filled up Lechuza for the next leg. It ended up being the perfect stop to get everything I needed for what was coming next.

A woman at the pump told me that the highway ahead was closed and I wouldn't have much luck moving forward. This alarmed me and I asked for another route. She gave me the name of one, but upon looking it wasn't anywhere near me. In fact, to bypass the blockage, I would have to go over 14 hours of riding out of my way to encircle the entire state of Chiapas to get to my destination. I was floored.

When I got inside the gas station to buy water and electrolytes, I asked for a second opinion. The clerk said that the road SHOULD be open, she hadn't seen any traffic issues heading in the opposite direction. I was cautious but didn't know what to do. I certainly wasn't moving backward, so I decided to move forward to the roadblock, see it for myself, and then I'd decide what to do. Maybe I could find a way around. I am on Adventure Motorcycle, after all.

I rode forward and saw the traffic right away. I could tell they'd been there a while because the minivans, cars, and semi's all had their doors open to keep their cabins from overheating. People were hanging out along the road. There was a car or two coming toward me but they were all people who had given up on waiting. I decided I'd go straight to the front to see what the deal was.

Then I came up to the protest. Local Chiapans had blocked off the road with large branches, cement blocks, trucks, motorcycles, and anything they could to make any narrow passage impossible. I saw a motorcycle try to inch through. When he did you heard audible groans and yells from the crowd as people moved their bodies to block the vehicle. I was approached by a dozen Mexicans who, upon finding out I spoke Spanish, had loads of questions about my motorcycle. I had MORE questions about the protest, such as why they were there, how long it would last, and if there was any chance of me getting through.

The protesters were there to block off the highway in response to rising rates of the toll road. Like I had said, Chiapas is a wild state, so getting across the state is only by 2 major highways and they're massive bottlenecks. The government was taxing one of its poorest populations with high toll rates at necessary points of transportation. With few options to bypass tolls, the tolls have been deemed an oppressive, completely unnecessary expense. The protesters used the geography to their advantage to cut off ALL traffic down the only southern pass at a bridge, blocking everyone off on the east side of the river (see map).

I dismounted and figured I'd be there for a while. When I asked the protesters how long they'd be there, they said "2-3 more hours."  That's just enough time for me to wait, but I figured it was a lie. They would probably keep the protest going until sundown. I started applying sunscreen. This was going to take some time.

As I did so, I was approached from behind by someone who spoke English. I could tell by the way he was dressed he was an Adventure Rider, and I could tell by the way he spoke he was from the United States. He gave me a playful punch in the arm and asked if I were stuck. I introduced myself to him and he jokingly said they were used to towing Africa Twins out of bad situations, maybe he and his friends could help me out.

They were 3 Americans from the Sunbelt States of Arizona and New Mexico. They told me that they'd caught wind of a way around the protest but it was off road. I said I would join them but I knew I wasn't the best equipped for it. I no longer had 50/50 tires like I did on the Dalton Highway up the northern Alaskan Arctic. They said they'd help me through in any way they could, but first they had to get down on the east side of the bridge.

A FIGHTING CHANCE

The ADV Riders were already geared up so it only took them 15 seconds to gear up and they passed through a narrow, VERY narrow 15" break in the barricade. The rest was blocked off by branches and vehicles. The blockade continued on the road itself, so the little gap would only allow them to go under the bridge where the supposed bypass was.

Once the protesters had seen this breach in their defenses, a woman, no doubt one of the leaders behind the protest, came up screaming in Spanish. She said that the point of the blockade was to stop all movement. Letting us through was a failure of the protest, and those who had broken through were "disrespecting Mexico and their people." She pointed to me and said I was here in Mexico and disrespecting their people. I could've really escalated things and said that "She isn't Mexico" but it would've done less than good.

I understood her sentiment. I've been to protests. None so disruptive, but I get the idea. The point is to disrupt. The goal is to not let us through.  They are in my way, their job is to be in my way. We have conflicting goals.

The ADV Riders were on the other side of the barricade, the east side of the bridge, sitting there waiting. The Chiapans quickly walked in front of the small 15" in gap and blocked my path. I gave a look to some of the men I'd been speaking with and they gave me a frown and a "no." They were not going to let me through. I went down and talked to the ADV Riders and they told me there was a way I could cross the river if I went down on the WEST side. It was just shallow enough for my bike to pass.

This would be the deepest water crossing I'd ever had yet. I was quite concerned. The ADV Riders told me that if I fell, they'd help. That was just the push I needed. I went back to my motorcycle and talked to the protestors.

As I donned my gear they could tell I wasn't going to stay like before. This disappointed some of them.  I asked them if they'd heard of George Floyd, a man who was murdered by Police when one of them had put their knee on his neck on video. Surprisingly, many of them had heard of George Floyd. Actually, most EVERYONE I've spoken to on this journey had heard of that murder and saw the video. It was a massive movement, the largest civil rights movement in world history, that started in my home city of Minneapolis.

I told them that when that happened, I had participated in protests. I understand civil disobedience. I knew why they were doing what they were doing. I told them to tell that woman, the very angry ringleader of the protest that I understood. To quote Rage Against the Machine: "anger is a gift".

THE OFFROAD BYPASS

I said goodbye, crossed back over the river to the west side and went underneath. Loads of teen Chiapans were hanging out underneath. I came up to them and gave them a salutation: "Who wants to see the Gringo fall in the river?!" They all laughed and were checking out the bike. I told them I was going to record my crossing with my camera, and if I fell they could watch it on my Instagram. I gave it to one of them, then looked down.

It was a steep fall with a quick bump. The water was about 6' across and at most half a foot deep. I'd seen Adventure Bikes make much worse crossings, but they were also much more skilled and had a lot less gear. I was carrying my whole life on the bike. It was nut up or shut up. Trust the bike, keep pushing forward, do NOT brake. You're going to cross fast or crash fast. There is can be no half-measures if I'm going to make it.

I did a "Shephard's Prayer", looked down at the river and rolled into it. I hit the water with a resounding splash and all I could think about was the amount of force necessary to fall across. I'd rather land on sand than the riverbed.  I actually managed to CROSS THE RIVER and poof into a bank of sand with my front tire on the other side. I'd made it.

I heard a lot of shouts from the teens on the west side of the river. I was able to navigate my way to the ADV Riders on the east side and we were finally a quartet of Americans. We were going to follow 2 other motorcycles that had crossed with them, a BMW and a Harley Trike.

When we followed we saw there was traffic coming our direction. This was a good sign. It meant that oncoming cars were meeting us and this wasn't some wild road to nowhere. We were connecting with cross-traffic.

The road was sandy and full of rocks and branches. It went through a property that was owned by a 'toll operator' no doubt. A man stood there taking 50-Peso bills for every person that was to cross. That money would be used to help fund the protest, such as providing water and food for the people keeping the highway closed.

Did I forget to mention the heat again? The bikes were hot. The sun was hot. We'd sit there and wait for each vehicle to pass an obstacle on this makeshift path by sitting under the sun and idling. When it came my turn to mount a bank of sand up from the river gorge into a farm field I ended up falling on the same pannier I'd just soldered back in Puebla. The same one where the bastards stole my gas. It bent the pannier again. Also, one of the knobs on the open-face clasps had come loose on my helmet. I almost crushed my ankle but my boots did their job well and came through for me, keeping my ankles safe from being twisted or crushed.

There it was, Lechuza, laying down in the sand, in the hot sun, blocking traffic in both directions on the bypass.

With all of my strength I picked Lechuza up myself as one of the ADV Riders came up behind me. He said "Gas it with everything you got." as he would hold the bike upright and steady from the rear. I'd use my legs as guides, hopefully not stubbing my knees with the force of the bike.

I ended up climbing to the other side and parked. Later the ADV Riders would thank me for being the guinea pig that fell, they knew not to take that part of the road after I'd fallen on it.

We climbed up and around several hills following a file of vehicles around the bypass. I could tell we were past the roadblock. Then, we finally reached the highway. We were on the other side and the protest cost me about 2 hours.

CRASHING IN SAN CRISTOBAL

Upon getting to the other side my ABS Light was blinking and sand was flying out of every crevice in my bike, jacket, pants, and helmet. I didn't have my earplugs in and my navigation was off. I followed the ADV riders for about 45 minutes on the highway until they reached their destination, a hotel they were going to stay at.

As my visa is soon expiring in Mexico, I had to keep it short. I thanked them for helping me through PROFUSELY because I would've had a completely different night if I waited for the roadblock to end. I also probably wouldn't have had the courage to cross the river if they didn't say they'd help me if I fell.

I rode another several hours. I pass through the capitol of Tuxtla Gurierrez and on the other side was the major Pueblo Magico city of San Cristobal de Las Casas. To get there I climbed and climbed up into the mountains. The temperature dropped. It was wonderful. I even got a thumbs up out a window of a passing vehicle after they'd seen my setup. It happens sometimes, always a good pick-me-up.

When I arrived at the hostel, a neighbor was parked RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR to get into the hostel. I couldn't bring Lechuza in without mounting the curb.

I didn't take off the panniers. I didn't ask for help. When I mounted the curb, a pannier hit something that ceased all movement on one side. Not only did I tip over and fall, the whole bike fell more than the 90 degrees and was turned closer to upside when tipped off the sidewalk. My blinker cracked and shattered under the weight of the bike on the road and I yelled an audible "FUCK" as hostel volunteers and guests came out to see what was going on.

When I finally got inside, I saw that the soldered pannier had been bent even more and now my blinker was completely shattered. Luckily the blinker light itself was okay and would function just fine, but I'd have to find a new part for the housing.

Either way, I'd made it. I'd have to sleep off the loss before The Critic took hold. Looks like I'd delay everything by a day or more. I'm going to have to be flexible in my final days here in Mexico.

-JT

4/15/2022