Days 96 Through 99: San Miguel De Allende To Almoloya de Juárez

From San Miguel de Allende, we decided to head south towards Celaya so Gonzalo could conquer his childhood love and nemesis... tiny wooden boxes filled with artisanal cajeta.  Much like Parral is famous for its dulce de leche, Celaya is famous for its cajeta, a gooey caramely mess of sweet deliciousness made from goat milk.  A young Gonzalo used to fight to open these tiny wooden boxes, only to have the boxes splinter into pieces, requiring him to eat around the shards of wood.  It was time to see if the slightly-more-adult Gonzalo would be able to successfully open the box of cajeta.

All smiles for now... later, we would find out that these tiny wooden boxes filled with artisanal cajeta from Celaya would still be a challenge, though one Gonzalo successfully conquered with the help of his trusty pocketknife.

We headed into town to take a look around the main plaza and found ourselves in the middle of Celaya's market day.  After throwing down some unremarkable pozole at one of the market stands, we decided to make it a short day and camp about 15 km outside Celaya near a town called Juan Martín.

I was fascinated by these leaf-cutter ants... sometimes when you find an early camping spot, there isn't much else to do than pester the wildlife.

I opted for the easier-to-open nut-flavored cajeta chewy candies... I consider it my obligation to eat at least two of these a day lest I lose too much weight... or something.

My cozy little spot tucked under a tree and in between the nopales.

The next morning, we rolled into the tiny town of Juan Martín where we found one of the ubiquitous señoras to make us breakfast, eggs, fresh homemade cheese, spicy pickled nopales, rice, and freshly made corn tortillas (Gonzalo also added a bit of barbacoa to his breakfast).  One of the things I love about Mexico is that you can sit down at almost any little restaurant and just ask them what they have and custom-order a meal.  It's nothing like the U.S. where you feel like you have to order off a menu, rather, it's more like looking in your mom's pantry and refrigerator and asking her to whip something up for you.  This particular "mom" also explained to us how to clean a nopal and gave us some fresh leaves with which to make a special tea.

We finally started seeing the effects of the rains we had been riding through.  Brown earth ready for planting gave way to gorgeous green farmland, though much of this farmland was on an industrial scale.

Small towns with dot the countryside, breaking up the miles of farmland. 

I snapped this shot of rains pouring down in the next valley while chatting with a couple farmers near Jerécuaro, Guanajuato.  One of them had spent the past 40 years in the U.S., but returned to his hometown because his parents passed away and left him their land.  He lamented that his daughter had never been to his hometown.

Gonzalo and I like to take dirt road detours and shortcuts when possible to avoid traffic... the rains made this road a bit more interesting. 

And sometimes what the GPS considers a dirt road turns out to be not quite a road.

But the GPS has yet to fail us... we found our way back on track in no time.

It's strawberry season!!!  At 13 pesos a kilo (basically, US$1.00 for over 2 pounds), we couldn't resist!  Plus, the lady was very nice and washed the strawberries for us at no extra charge.

Morning view from inside my tent somewhere near Maravatio de Ocampo.

Now that we are officially in central Mexico, towns are frequent, and the food is becoming more and more delicious.  On Thursday, July 18, 2013, I ate the best enchiladas of my life somewhere near Maravatio de Ocampo.  If you come across the Cocina Economica "Erica," I highly recommend you ask for her enchiladas topped with a pair of eggs sunny-side up.  These enchiladas are made with huge handmade corn tortillas (no wimpy little ones, she boasts) smothered in a delicious homemade mole sauce, filled with cheese and/or chicken, then topped with onion and served with savory beans.  For this hungry cycle tourist, she was ready to make me another plate of enchiladas at no extra cost, but I couldn't fit anything else in my belly.

Beyond the delicious food, Erica was one of the warmest most welcoming-ist (is that a word?) people I have ever met.  She ushered me inside and invited us to use her space if we wanted to prepare our own breakfast or just to rest...

So greeeeeeeen!

I made a new friend while waiting for Gonzalo to order some ice cream.

Mountains and mist... and then we finally got caught in a huge rainstorm.  Yaaaay, lots of climbing in freezing rain and hail and awesomeness.

We take a small break to admire the mountains in the aftermath of the rainstorm.

This guy couldn't start his car and asked for a push start.  We obliged to no avail, but he was so grateful we stopped to help that he gave us a pack of sweet bread for the road.

Taking advantage of a break in the rain, we managed to find a campsite high up on a hill across from a Christmas tree farm.  We had some visitors early in the morning, a brother and sister charged with taking their small herd of sheep out to eat.  I shared the sweet bread we got the day before with them.

Even the tiniest towns have a bike repair shop... this one was pretty awesome and the guy gave us a big thumbs up as we rode by.

I may or may not have spent a solid five minutes and half a memory card trying to get this little guy to look at me. 

We chugged our way up wet climbs, battled fatigue / cold / rain - induced stress, and ended the day at around 3000 meters camping near Almoloya de Juarez, the notorious site of Mexico's maximum security federal prison.

A few travel notes for cyclists:

• As you approach central Mexico, there are many more towns.  This is good, from one point of view, because food and water is never an issue, and you can load up on goodies in town for dinner and camp just a few kilometers later.  This is bad, from another point of view, because wild camping becomes more difficult.  However, because this part of Mexico is much more safe than the north, we aren't as concerned if we can see a little house off in the distance or if people see us pulling our bikes off the road.  Camping spots may be tucked on a corner of a piece of farmland (we are careful not to camp on any crops), and we don't consider farmers to be dangerous.  Usually, they'll look at you with curiosity... we just wave and say hi, and they don't really care so long as you aren't ruining their field. 

• In some of the smaller pueblos in central Mexico, the indigenous folks are just as curious about us as we are about them... though I can't escape the feeling that they are laughing at us.  I would try to eavesdrop, but more often than not, they speak their indigenous language rather than Spanish.