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Day 342 - Chazumba, Mexico - 6369 km

Millions of cacti, all pointing up straight, as far as I can see. This is the Tehuacán-Cuicatlán biosphere reserve, a protected area in the south of Mexico. A wide variety of cacti are being used local kitchens. My lunch of this day was eggs with pieces of cactus flower in it.

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Day 339 - Popocatepetl, Mexico - 6235 km

Mexico is having bad press at the moment. Two cyclists have been brutally murdered on there way through the Chiapas state, just 3 weeks ago. One was German, the other Polish, both experienced travellers. The darker side of the country is coming to the surface. Everyone is warning me on social media: Be careful. Be safe. Take care. But how to be careful? Im on the road alone, vulnerable as a cyclist is. Were they not being careful? Could they have known? It could have happened anywhere.

After my bike got stolen in Mexico City, and with the news above in my head, I got more aware of the danger. I don’t leave my bike out of sight. During hotel stays I don’t even leave it in a garage anymore, I bring everything into my room. I’m suspicious and I don’t like. Hopefully I get more relaxed as time goes on and the bike gets some dust and scratches.

I’m a few days on the road now. Taking it slowly, because I haven’t done much cycling for about 5 months, other than short rides through the city. Especially during the climbs I feel rusty. The same as when I left San Francisco after 5 weeks off the bike. However, the muscles are still there, because they’re built over a long time. I just need a few days to get them back into shape. The first challenge is Popocatepetl, the volcano south-west of Mexico City. The pass climbs up till 3650 meter. The good thing of staying that long in Mexico City is that I get used a bit more to the high altitude, which is 2200 meters. The weather is not very promising. Everyday it rains. Usually it starts to get dark in the afternoon. When I start the climb the forecast is not different and the skies already look grey in the morning. My hopes are not high. Halfway the climb it gets really foggy, there’s not more than 30 meters of sight ahead. I get wet, but everything is better than rain. And to be honest it is kind of beautiful too.

Then the sky clears and the sun comes through. Below me are the clouds and there is basically no view into the valley. I dry my clothes and take longer breaks. High altitude is still not a friend. My head hurts and the oxygen is thin. Only a few more switch backs and I’m on top of the pass. The tip of Popocatepetl is covered in clouds, no smoke from crater is visible. Something I was dying to see, I’ve never seen a volcano being active, but I guess I have to wait for another chance. There will be more volcanos to visit in Central America. I don’t linger around on the pass and start the downhill with the warmth still in my legs. It’s a fun ride. Other than the road up this part into the Puebla state is unpaved and rocky. I leave some air out of the tires and I’m happy with the bike I chose for this trip - I’m faster than a cars and because of the big tires it’s a smooth ride downhill. No way I could have gone so fast on my Surly long haul trucker, which I cycled form Amsterdam to Singapore. I skipped the idea to camp in the hills and keep going through some poverty stricken towns until I find a hotel in Cholula.

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Day 312 - Condesa, Mexico City

Killing time in Mexico City

Peaceful Condesa, my favourite neighbourhood in Mexico City. It’s already a month ago that my bike got stolen. A new one has arrived and people are sending me gear from overseas. Everything is sorted, but mail in Mexico takes a lot of time. So I’m still stuck. 

For me this is not a problem at all. I love it here. Condesa, Hippodromo, Parque Mexico with its green plazas. Amsterdam, the street named after my hometown, which runs parallel in an egg shape around the park. The old colonial buildings, and the newer art-deco style from the 20s, some damaged badly by the numerous earthquakes. Especially Condesa is a sensitive area, with its soft soil. Mexico City was built on a lake. I’ve been in one earthquake, which feels like a large boat on a wavy ocean. It’s more like an ‘earth-swing’. Because of the damages there is a lot of construction going on. The typical noises of Mexico City. Hammerin, grinders, iron on stone. A police car waiting first in line behind a red traffic light, eating a hamburger, with sirens on. The tingling bells of the garbage collectors at 11am everyday. The pre-recorded female voice-over through a cranky speaker, on top of the cars of metal junk collectors, driving through the neighbourhoods. If you’ve visited Mexico City, you know what I’m talking about. 

In my apartment on the third floor at Plaza Popocatepetl I’m photographing my friend Agna, a beautiful brown-haired, blue-eyed Mexican. It’s quiet now and the sun is out, as always. A green view on the plaza, a fresh breeze through the windows. Then she gets an unsettling text message from her roommate. Confusion, tears... her room just got robbed. She shows me photos. It’s a mess. Valuables stolen - laptop, tablet, shoes, money... I’m surrounded by robberies it seems. A month ago my bike. Three days ago the bike of my friend Daniele from Italy, who cycled around the world for 4 years together with his girlfriend (@becycling), and now this. It’s spreads fear. I don’t like to share this, after so many great experiences and made friendships here in Mexico. The city grew on me. A handshake at home, is a hug Latin America. But there’s the fear, and suspicion too. The reason for the second lock on the door. 

Another morning. Martha, one of my best friends in the city, texts me she is downstairs walking her dog. I text if she is hungry. I walk down with a plate of bread, fish salad, avocado and lime. We sit at the old fountain of Plaza Popocatepetl, a beautiful run down monument built in 1927. The fountaint doesn’t work. Barto (the dog) is still afraid of me. We chat the coffee in the cafe next door, which is not as good as its furniture. Than I go for a run on Amsterdam, which is about 4 km around the park and I work out for a bit in the outdoor gym in Parque Mexico. In the afternoon I have an appointment with a Clara, a Danish model, for a photoshoot. It’s just for fun. In the evening I receive feedback on a design project, so there’s more work to do. This is how I fill my days, while I wait for my bicycle gear to be delivered. 

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A day trip with Martha to the pyramids of Teotihuacan, one of the oldest cities in the world. They are believed to be constructed about 200 CE. The stair steps are rounded off by the amount of people which have climbed them, which is probably quite a lot, given the age of these structures. An inspiring place, just two hours from Mexico City. 

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Day 278 - Mexico City - 5988 km

Bike stolen..!

The trip is on hold, but this time beyond my control. The bike is gone. Stolen. Earlier in the evening I was having dinner at a restaurant in Roma Norte, CDMX with my friend Antonio, whom I’d cycled together with to Nevado de Toluca. We were both on the bike and had parked it in sight, locked it against a pole. People at the restaurant could watch. I do it all the time, it’s safe. Roma is one of the richer and developed neighbourhoods in Mexico City. After dinner I met with Martha and we decided to watch a movie in the cinema on Insurgentes, the 2nd largest avenue in Mexico City. First we were at her house, the moment I should have decided to leave the bike inside and take an Uber to the cinema. But we didn’t, we hopped on the bike. Perhaps a Dutch instinct. At the cinema I asked if I could park the bike inside. The guard didn’t allow it. Then to the parking garage, but there were also no bikes allowed. We walked around and parked it in front of Cafe La Lombarda, a restaurant with an open store front, where people and staff could watch the bike. I locked the frame with a 12mm cable lock to a lantarn. It seemed safe. The film took a little longer than expected and we returned after 12. The street was quiet and I didn’t feel good about leaving the bike here. We walked to the corner of Chiapas and Manzanillo where it was parked. There were some taco stands around which were cleaning up. I’d eaten there a couple of times, I lived here in an Airbnb a few weeks ago. A familiar neighbourhood. Walking through the street I reached out my head to be able to see the bike. “Don’t worry, you’re bike will be there.” Martha tried to comfort me. We took 10 more steps and we both saw it wasn’t there. My heart sank. A second I doubted if we didn’t park it elsewhere, but then I realised it was gone. I loved this bike. In a way it was my home, equipped and tuned exactly to my wishes. So many memories, so many challenges I’ve been through with this bike…

The lock was on the street, cut through. You need a big cable cutter, but if you have that, it takes two seconds and the bike is yours. Nobody’s going to stop you. I felt stupid. Was it my fault? It feels like it. In the end it’s always your fault. You can’t be careful enough. But then again there are so many ungarded moments, anything could happen. Everyday when I’m cycling I leave it outside when I go to a supermarket or store. Most of the time I take the Carradice and Brooks bag with me, containing the most valuable parts like MacBook, hard disks, cameras, lenses, drone, wallet… but at a small shop I even leave that on the bike. It takes one organised bad guy to take everything with him, and I have nothing. During 25.000 km around the world the only thing that got stolen was a rear light in India. I had left my bike parked outside in places like Budapest, Bucharest, Istanbul, Tehran, New Delhi, Kolkata, Bangkok, Singapore, Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles and nothing happened. The lock has lots of little scars in the plastic though, from people attempting to cut using something like a pocket knife. But so far it remained my property.

I recall what exactly has been stolen. Luckily most of my luggage was stored in my room. But then it’s not only the bike. There’s a lot of add-ons which almost double the value of the bike. Tubus and Blackburn racks, Schmidt Son Edulux II headlight, dynamo, 3 Blackburn anything cages, Gilles Berthoud saddle, Ortlieb 6L Frame bag, Primus Omnifuel stove, lens filters, bike pump, several small tools, Blackburn top tube bag, Quad lock phone holder, Profile Design aero bars and a Carradice bag quick-release. All of these are highly durable, top-quality products and were a considerable amount of my travel budget all together.

Then on the third day, a glorious turn. The Facebook post about the stolen bike gets shared +200 times, mostly through Mexico. Pipe Llanos, a member of the Facebook groups MTB Friends, offers me his (almost new) mountain bike for free to continue my travels. An amazingly generous gesture. Not a brand that wants to sponsor me, just an individual with heart of gold. We meet at at La Bici Urbana, a bike shop in the centre. Pipe is born and raised in Mexico City. We take the bike from his car and take it for a spin. It’s a good mountain bike, a size smaller then my Surly ECR, but it doesn’t feel too bad. The biggest challenge will be fitting all the luggage on this bike, because it’s regular mountain bike, it’s doesn’t have all the braze-ons and attachement points for racks and backs, like the Surly ECR. But at this point I can only be grateful. And the generosity doesn’t stop here. The bike shop donates a heavy U-lock, for preventing a second robbery. I’m speechless. Hope in humanity is more than restored. I agree with Pipe to borrow the bike for a few days to see if it is realistic option to continue the trip to Patagonia.

(picture taken in La Romita, Roma, Mexico City)

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Day 253 - Nevado de Toluca, Mexico - 5988 km

Climbing up Nevado de Toluca

Antonio takes in the view before the climb steep climb starts up to Nevado de Toluca. I’m a little behind, as will be the entire day. Antonio lives in Roma Norte and reached out via Instagram. He did some touring in Europe and Turkey and wanted to join me for a one day ride up and down the volcano. 

We're taking the less travelled dirt road from the east. 1300 meters altitude gain over 17 km, which is steep, and the road quality is not too good. I’m struggling big time. The before I was sick, and my stomach just caught up with me again. Then there the altitude. 4000 meters is not a comfortable place when you’ve been born and raised at sea level. The higher we got up on the mountain the more I needed to push my bike and take breaks. I was out of breath. I guess the long break in the city had weakened me a bit. Antonio was doing better, being native to the high altitude and pushed me to continue. Just above the tree we took a break to cook some food. I thought I was done. We made some quesadillas and pasta which gave a boost. But while the sun set it cooled down fast. We packed up and went for the last part up to the lakes, which was not so steep. My fingers started to freeze and it got dark quickly. When we arrived at the first, smaller lake we took a break. The dramatic light was simply breathtaking, but I was in agony because my fingers started to warm up again. You know the feeling... I had no energy to continue, so we started the return trip.

For the downhill we prept our lamps, added another layer and let ourselves roll down the hill. It wasn’t very safe because there was no moon or any light. We hardly could notice the rocks and ditches along the sandy track. The more we got down the warmer it became. Down in the village we dismantled the bikes, loaded them in the car and bought a six-pack of Pacifico. Beautiful ride for a day. 

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Day 251 - Mexico City - 5947 km

Days in Mexico City

Back in the city for a while. The great Mexican food, the sunny weather and new-made friends make it hard to leave. I haven’t cycled since 3 December. I’m mostly staying in Airbnbs in Roma and Condesa. Neighbourhoods where espressos get served at a perfect 90°C and carrot cake fresh on a soft beige napkin. All at a reasonable price, compared to Europe and the US. I guess it’s the lush green, old aristocratic architecture combined with the Mexican grit that make it such an interesting place to live. Luxury under a thin layer of dust and Latin radio from the taqueria downstairs which is always a little too loud. I could get used to this. And I am.

I’m currently staying in Plaza Romita, a tiny neighbourhoud in larger Roma. As much as these neighbourhoods are gentrified, Romita still feels very local. One of the oldest in Mexico City. Nearby is an antique market in Jardín Dr. Ignacio Chávez. A lovely place for a Sunday walk, joined by Martha whom I met in the cue for the tortilleria. She’s a ceramist, designer, cook, and what more. We’ve been spending some time together and became friends. I have no fear of being alone in Mexico City. Antonio, a Mexican cyclists who toured Europe and Turkey, wrote me on Instagram and joined me for a ride up Nevada de Toluca. I met Maria, a fine art model living in Coyoacan. She runs art classes and drew my portrait. Half of the time she speaks Spanish to me. ‘Women will fall for you if you speak Spanish to them’, she says. Andrea, an architect and designer, invited me to break into the university gardens for a walk on sunday. I photographed her in my apartment the other day. Over the last few weeks I did more photoshoots with girls. It’s a lot of fun, something new to embark on perhaps. I kind of like the idea that I had to cycle all the way to Mexico to establish a new career in photography. Just kidding. Or not - truth is that spending life on the road makes you more adaptable to change, in the things you do and how you think. You become a sponge, more flexible towards self-innovation. While in Amsterdam I sort of remain in the same pattern of life, a comfort zone harder to break away from. Being far from your old place makes you able to disconnect from the old you. 

Mexico City will be a place to come back to in the future. The hunger for the road is slowly returning, but I’ve got some more things to finish up on here. What I love about staying in cities is that I have the oppurtunity to connect with like-minded people, creative souls. People that show me the latest secrets in their neighbourhood. Don’t blame me for taking my time. 

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Day 235 - Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - 5947 km

Holiday

It’s evening. A mighty palm tree in front of our balcony glows up from the apartments lights facing the see. Its hot in the room. She crawls from under the blanket, still with her jewellery on. Outside on the balcony the air is fresh. I lean against the old iron fence. A short fir coat is the only thing she wears when she walks outside. I smoke a cigarette and listen to the sea. She leans towards me. An interesting relationship, or whatever you may call it. She’s a model, I’m a photographer. There’s the mutual interest, but we also like each other. “Every artist needs a love, a lover and a muse’, she says. I look in her incredibly blue eyes and think about what she is to me. I think about other lovers, what they mean to me, what I mean for them. Travel relationships are full of curiosity, they evolve fast into something. At the same time they can disappear as the wind. But it’s still valuable, because the memories and lessons learned let you grow, and stay forever. 

While hail storms are tormenting Mexico City, it’s warm and tranquil here at the coast. I’d never thought to end up here, in beach town Puerto Vallarta, staying for a week in this 60s style condominium with a girl I met in Guadalajara only a few weeks ago. Her father lets us stay in his resort apartment for free. We’re the youngest people in the building. It’s mostly retired Americans hibernating, enjoying the tropical climate in their private apartment. It’s a pretty place. The Pacific is steps away from our door and throws big waves onto the steep, short beach. The calming noice of the sea is there all the time, day and night. Today we’ve been going out for swims and had some fun making photos. Alejandra is open to try new things for her modelling career. For me a welcome opportunity to photograph something different than just my bike in a landscape. I’m developing a side project shooting portraits. In Mexico City I have more shoots planned. Exciting stuff. 

In the morning I browse through my inbox and read confused messages from followers who miss the bike-pics in my news feed from the past weeks.  Sometimes I forget I have the reputation of a bicycle traveller, who cycles everyday. More than ever I focus less on the destination (Patagonia). I only continue when there is nothing that holds me at one place anymore. I don’t need breaks because I’m tired of cycling. I simply want to create more memories. There are just to many reasons to stick for a while.

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Day 223 - Xilitla, Mexico - 5947 km

Magic in Xilitla

…During the days I worked on this graphic design project, or I tried, I couldn’t focus. I was already 5 days in Mexico City. Natalia told me about a place, Xilitla, a few hours north from Mexico. I was actually planning to leave Mexico City after a few days, but the idea grew to go here with Alejandra, whom I met in Guadalajara. We had become friends. I explained her the plan and she was excited. We connected with a local fashion brand to do a photo shoot, so we had actually something to do.

At 4 in the morning arrives in Xilitla after a long drive over winding hill roads. The Airbnb host was so friendly to receive me early. When everything got loaded off the bus I put the bags on my bicycle and roll down the hill towards my apartment. I try to sleep a few hours. In the afternoon Alejandra arrives. Talkative as she is, she easily connects with everyone around. Using her magical bright blue eyes. With the hotel owners, the people from the restaurant around the corner, taxi drivers, shop owners... It doesn’t take along that the whole town knows there is a model from Guadalajara and a foreign photographer in town. Also because I forgot my camera charger - I left it in Mexico City - so the hotel owner has called a number of people to ask if they have a Panasonic charger. The people in Xilitla are extremely helpful. But without luck, after a few visits to local photographers nobody has a compatiple charger.

The next day we visit Las Pozas, a 15 minute taxi drive out of town. It’s subtropical garden area with surrealistic structures created a few decades ago by the British poet, Edward James. A mystic gem to wander over numerous trails and explore the rich plant life. Nearby there are waterfalls where we cool down from our walk.

Back in Xilitla we have lunch in the centre of town. It’s a sunny and tranquil place. While I work in the cafe Alejandra visits the old church. She got in touch with the priest who offered us a ride to Sótano de las Golondrinas (Cave of the swallows). Together with his friend he picked us up from the apartment. ‘Padre’ looks far from a typical priest. He has large beer belly and wears a sloppy t-shirt and sweatpants. But his heartwarming voice and generosity makes him credible. He drinks while driving and offers us a Corona as well, the radio at max volume, playing passionate ballads from Los Bukis. Padre tells me I look like the singer. On our way we stop at someones house in a little village, where we have to join for a birthday toast. We are sat around the table and serve us pork meat and tequila, with lime and salt. We join the conversation, I have no idea what they are talking about, but it’s a good vibe. It took much longer than we thought and padre has to step on the gas to be on time at the caves. We park the car at sunset and Alejandra and I rush down the trail to the cave, a 500 m deep hole in the ground. It’s the home of hundreds of swallows, which fly out at dawn and return at sunset. The size of the opening, which is about a 50 m diameter, is hard to capture by camera. You have to lean over the edge to sense the depth. The sound of whiplashes, caused by the passing swallows flying down by numbers with dazzling speeds. It’s an incredible phenomenon to experience, leaning over the edge with a rope around your waste to prevent from falling into the gab.*

When it got dark we hike back up to the road where padre is waiting for us with a bottle of tequila and some peanuts. We drive home and sing along with Secreto De Amor by Joan Sebastian.

*The photos from inside the cave are by Brian Masney. We did not go down.

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Day 209 - Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Christmas - The contrast with home

4 am, in a low lit living room. It’s densely quiet and dark outside. No barking dogs, traffic, sirens and other sounds that disturb the nights in the Mexican cities I was staying during the past few weeks. I’m in my brothers house in Waalwijk, The Netherlands. He picked me up from the airport, I hadn’t seen him in almost a year. It’s Christmas day and he had prepared a good meal for us together. He knows how to cook and the stew of deer and swine tastes well. In the evening we watched ‘Dunkirk’ together. Tomorrow we will drive to our parents house for a surprise visit. My three brothers will be there too. They don’t know yet I’m in the Netherlands for the holidays. It’s going to be nice, I’m looking forward to it. But now I’m here, sitting behind my laptop at this dark hour, waiting out the night. I woke up after two hours sleep and felt a bit like a flu. Usually I don’t suffer much from jet lags, but this time it gets me. My body feels like a flower ripped from the ground, not used to the cold climate. 

What to write? A few months ago I was so much looking forward to visit home, talk with my brothers, my parents, my friends. Touch ground and put perspective to my goings. I was in California then, in the midst of all the amazing trips with Rachel, living in sort of an American dream. A bubble of high life which took its turns and ended abruptly. Then I got back on the bike again and spend days on end in the deserts of Baja. There was a lot to process and let go. Now I hardly feel anything. I feel in balance, in the right place. I don’t feel a longing, I don’t feel much adventure or excitement either. It’s stable, maybe even a bit boring. Work goes well, I’ve been pretty busy the last weeks redesigning a beer brand from the Bahamas. A new look, new packaging, the whole thing. A long term project which I’ve working on during the entire trip. It’s the reason why my social media feeds are somewhat slow at the moment. From Baja California I took a ferry and busses to Mexico City to be on time for my flight to Amsterdam. No time for cycling. If I have work to do I rent an Airbnb apartment, as long as needed to finish the work. I send out the pdfs, do presentations via Skype and then I move on again, until I get feedback, then I’m grounded again. 

It really turns out to be a good rhythm for this journey. Travelling by bike is already slow, but working on the road makes it even slower. Still, this life feels fast. Because there are always new things, places and people around me. I wrote about it in my book. “The slower I travel, the more I experience.” It gives more opportunity to make local friends, create deeper connections, explore neighbourhoods a bit. Live locally instead of being on holiday and visit just the hotspots. Travelling like this feels more real, you get to experience a country in more detail, and you realize how much diversity of culture there is. Renting an Airbnb is not travelling anymore, it’s establishing a home in between the travels. I always look for something cosy. A good table and chair to work. Preferably a good coffee machine, but that’s hard to find. A little bit of a view, a nice neighbourhood. Luckily lodging is a lot more affordable in Mexico compared to the US, where I camped more often to stay on budget. Here I have to worry less about spending too much.

2nd Christmas day my brother and I drive to Zeeland, the southern Islands in the Netherlands. My parents live in Krabbendijke, a conservative little town where the majority of the people visit church twice a Sunday, wearing black and stark faces. My father is a pastor in a smaller, more colourful, protestant community. It’s quiet on the roads. The fields rush by under a flat grey sky, which absorbs all the colours. When we arrive the sun shines. I jump in front of the window. Behind it everyone sits in a circle, sipping coffee. There are noise and cheers, we’re grateful to see each other after nine months. For a moment Krabbendijke is happily unsettled. Then quietness returns and we celebrate Christmas like we always do: sharing stories, making old jokes, gourmetten and sjoelen. It feels warm and safe. Every year is the same. When I look back at pictures the only nuance are the clothes we wear, and sometimes a brother brings another girlfriend home. It’s been a while since I have brought someone home, my girlfriends are usually far away.

The next day I go for a walk with my father over the dike along the Oosterschelde. It rains a bit. The wind sweeps in our face over the low tide lake. Typical, miserable Dutch weather. The view reaches far into nothing. It’s hard to describe how I feel being back in the Dutch countryside, the old home. It’s not far from where I grew up. Where I went to a Christian high school, and to church every Sunday. Being back here, I feel contained, a bit uncomfortable maybe. It probably has to do with that everything is so familiar, while the nature of my travels is constantly being in unfamiliar places. Here, I have the feeling I can’t be anonymous, something I value so much living in big cities. Where I can reinvent myself, without being judged. 

Despite the rain we enjoy our walk and the good conversations. About life in this small community in Zeeland and life spend around the globe on a bicycle. We are worlds apart, but there’s enough legacy to understand and value each other. Later I take the train to Amsterdam, where I’m staying with friends for New years eve. My own apartment is rented out on Airbnb. We eat oliebollen at any given time of day. In the meantime I have a lot do. Visit my tax adviser, run errands for my apartment and purchase outdoor gear which I can’t find in Mexico. In the evening I catch up with friends in de Olofspoort, a historic jenever cafe in Amsterdam centre. It feels like I’ve never been away. Outside it’s still cold and rainy. It’s good to see that everything is still the same. I feel at peace to leave again for a long period of time. 

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Baja California, Mexico.

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Baja California, Mexico.

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Day 172 - Santo Tomas, Baja California, MX - 5288 km

The Baja Divide

Baja California is the peninsula aiming south east with on one side the Pacific and on the other the Sea of Cortez, or Gulf of California. From border town Tijuana it’s 1500 km on MEX1, the only ongoing road down to La Paz, where you can take a boat to the Mexican mainland. Popular among mountain bikers and touring cyclists is the Baja Divide, a recently mapped route from north to south via dirt roads and single tracks. It’s a scenic route which requires big tires and a lightweight setup, otherwise you’ll be pushing your bike most of the way because many roads are sandy. You also need time, because the entire route is 2700 km. There are parts where you need to pack food and water for up to thre e days until the next town where you can stock up again. My bike is built for these kind of routes, but the weight I’m carrying makes it less attractive. I’m only doing selected parts and will make use of MEX1 where there is less car traffic. I’m leaving MEX1 south from Ensenada where the trail goes through the hills along the Pacific coast. The surface is rough and I need to leave a lot of air out of the tires to make the ride comfortable. Easy, I’ve got 3 inch of clearance underneath my wheels. On a hillside I meet a couple on touring bikes who are struggling uphill. They’re from Hong Kong and fully geared. I pinch their tires, which are hard as a cucumber, and recommend them to leave some air out. High pressure makes you fast on pavement, but on this rocky surface every little pebble makes your bike bounce. Lowering tire pressure changes the ride big time. On downhills I almost fly over the rocks, which would have been impossible with thinner tires. 

The best thing of these roads is the total silence. You have the world to yourselves. I’ve seen 3 cars today. The pace is slow, while scanning for the smoothest bit of surface I have to avoid potholes and rocks. At some points I sink away in the sand. It’s more active cycling, but at the same time relaxing as well. There are no worries about passing fast traffic, staying on the side of the road, looking over your shoulder, being watchful. There is no noise, no exhaust gasses and loud welcoming horns. None of that, it’s tranquilo. After miles of endless up and downs through green-brown hills I reach the deep blue Pacific, washing its white waves on the shore. The road switches left and right down the hill - a rewarding view. At the beach I take off my clothes for a dip. I don’t bother digging my swimwear from the bottom of my panniers, there is no one here. The swim is cold but sweet. I read a few chapters of Wieringa on my Kindle and continue my ride. 

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Day 166 - Tijuana, MX - 5109 km

First days in Mexico

Mexico is a welcome change of scenery after 5 months in the US. At Tijuana I cross the border, a town often rushed through by travellers coming from the ‘safe’ west. Drug dealing, criminality, dangerous traffic are associations I hear from peoples stories. Among a lot of Americans there is a sort of a Mexico phobia. ‘Be careful out there!’ I got warned many times. It’s similar to the views from Western Europeans towards the Middle East. ‘Are you sure you’re going to cycle through Iran?’ Among many people there is a general fear towards other cultures and religions. My experience has been that when you’re cycling through those countries you get treated like you are family. Not that I’m ignorant or oblivious to any dangers, I try to use common sense and an open mind. When I spoke to Latino people in California about my travels south I always get the reaction ‘Oh, you’re gonna meet a lot more friendly people there!’  So I wasn’t too nervous to enter Mexico. Actually I liked the big changeover. A couple of weeks ago I was in Rosarito, not far from the border, to attend a film festival where One year on a Bike was awarded for Best Sports Documentary, so I knew a little what to expect. My first impressions could be summarised as ‘a colourful mess, where the food is always good.

The border crossing went smooth. I’m mainly on MEX1, the highway leaving Tijuana. It’s dusty, narrow and it reminds me of the happy chaos of traffic in Iran or Kyrgyzstan, where the cars are older, with rattling engines and black smoke. Mexico is more colourful, more vibrating. Advertising is painted on the buildings, weathered away by the sun. Banda music loudly played from car radios and roadside stores. The road goes uphill and I have to fight for my space on the pavement. It’s hot and while I grind up the hill I constantly watch over my shoulder to keep an eye on the larger trucks. Traffic is heavy. Once most of the chaos is behind me I make a stop at an Oxxo, a roadside grocery store as widely present here, as the 7elevens in Thailand. I get a cold frappucino and sit next to my bike on the pavement with my back against the glass windows of the shop. The vains on my forehead are swollen as blood rushes through. I take a moment to let it sink in, I’m two hours passed the border. I know the crowded traffic will only be for the first few days. After I’ve crossed the first towns, the road will get more quiet and there will be less traffic.

In Ensenado, one of the bigger towns in Baja California, I need to stay put for a few days to finish work. The local food is incredible - goodbye to the hamburgers! The great thing in less developed countries are the less developed food laws. Everywhere you find street food, freshly prepared by local people. Tacos, birria, tamales... For 3 dollar you have a filling meal. My current favourite is birria. Spicy beef stew served with freshly made flower tortilla, cilantro, onions, lime, salsa and some radish to nibble on. I’m going to love Mexico. 

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From Venice Beach (Los Angeles) to San Diego, CA. 

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Day 165 - San Diego, California - 5109 km

Every end has a start - Exit USA

If you cycle the entire coastal route from Vancouver to San Diego, Google Maps calculates 2,714 km and 16,492 m elevation. I reached the same destination cycling 5,109 km and climbing 57,582 m. You could say I took the touristic route. I’m taking it slower on this journey, spending more time in places. The main reason is because I have work to do, the other reason is because I met this girl, messing up my travel plans - and I loved it.

The work I do is straightforward, within my comfort zone. I’ve done branding design projects for about 10 years now. It doesn’t matter where I am. If I have access to a chair, a table, my Macbook and reasonable wifi, I can do the work. My clients seem to be happy. Some of them don’t even know that I’m on a bicycle trip, other than that I’m ‘currently holding office in San Francisco’, or Vancouver, or Portland, or Los Angeles. There’s even been occasions that I did some tweaks on a design in a diner along the road, enjoying an omelet, hash browns and drip coffee, the tent hanging in the sun over my bike, still wet from early mornings dew. Of course it’s not the ideal working environment, but I can make it work and I find it a lot better than sitting in office 5 days a week.

America by bike has truly been an adventure, beautiful and memorable in so many ways. The rough coastlines of Washington, the deserts of Oregon, the long climb up to Crater Lake, the magical Redwood forests, meeting Rachel in San Francisco, through a heatwave towards Yosemite, thunderstorms in the Nevada desert, Zion and Bryce Canyon in Utah, the Canyonlands with Rachel, meeting native people in Toas NM and Monument Valley are just a few of the many highlights. Of course It’s not júst a parade of highlights. In between all the moments of bliss there is also loneliness, hardship, doubt and insecurity. The big questions: Why do this trip? What do I want with my life? were strongly present after meeting someone valuable. At some points I just wanted to stay. Probably the most difficult part of this kind of long therm slow travel, is living in the moment. There are long, dull stretches of pedalling. In those moments I’m constantly longing, to reach a destination, or to be with someone, somewhere else. I constantly remind myself to enjoy the moment. But simply not all moments are enjoyable.

Rachel and I didn’t last. I visited her again in San Francisco, leaving the bike in LA. We’ve had a bunch of adventures together the past months. We both love the outdoors and couldn’t wait to see each other again. After I landed in San Francisco I felt at home. The cold grey weather and the old neighbourhoods made me feel like I was in Amsterdam. We watched jazz in Mr. Tipples Recording Studio, visited the Museum of Modern Art and went on a hike in Big Sur. We had grown on each other. But at the same time things got difficult. The cultural differences, at first intriguing and inspiring, turned against each other. We tried to love, but more and more we were in the dark. It kept me awake at night. I had a long walk over the hills of Castro, sitting on top of Corona Heights park in the November drizzle, trying to find answers. No answer satisfied. Tears of letting go accompanied by the most magnificent views of San Francisco in the night. Ironically, it made me smile. What a life! The last months I had seen the most beautiful landscapes of North America, and sharing adventures with an amazing woman. What am I complaining? Now that’s over and I need to accept it. But you have to take the time to feel miserable too. You can’t laugh it away.

Two days later I left, earlier than planned. All our future plans were cancelled. Somehow I felt relieved. I could focus on the trip again. Back in LA I sat on the beach in Venice, looking back at something that only seemed a dream. The bright warm sun in my face made me forget the fog of San Francisco. It’s time to move on, Mexico is smiling at me.

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Visiting an old friend

Back in LA! This magnificent garden is Alberto Hernandez’ residential ‘playground’. I have been here before. 6 years ago I ended up here by surprise. I was staying with Chris via a Couchsurfing, who rents a room in his house. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of this place that I captured it in a short documentary, including an interview with Alberto. Now, 6 years later I couldn’t wait to come here again. There are a lot of new pieces, but it’s colourful and vibrant as ever.

It’s 24 years ago that Alberto and his partner bought the house with the garden in Silver Lake, Los Angeles, and since then it has been a living canvas where Alberto expresses himself artistically. Besides his painting works the garden exists mainly of recycled parts. People in the neighbourhood bring boxes full of stuff they don’t use anymore and Alberto uses it to make something for his garden. “What’s trash for one person, can be art for another person. I want to show my friends and the people in the neighbourhood that it’s important to recycle. To make a contribution to save the world or save whatever is important for our future generations. But it’s also important to have fun, I really enjoy what I am doing.”

The last time (2011) there was a lot of jewelery in the trees. This time the garden is full of cut-up plastic bottles, spiralling down from the palm trees. Since his partner retired a year ago, he also contributes to the garden. The embellished vases and jars are all his work, following the same thinking. 

In the evening, after Alberto has taken me to his favourite Mexican restaurant on Sunset Boulevard, we hang out on the couch in the garden. The night shows a different side of the garden. When the city quiets down you can hear all the subtle sounds of hundreds of plastic parts and jewellery touching each other. A concert of rustling and tinkling. It’s unbelievably beautiful. And it’s all trash.