As we approached the turnoff to the ruins, Alberto waived us on down a small street with the instruction that we would see the ruins from the end of this street through Casas Grandes and that he would wait for the tail end of the group which had spread out a bit in traffic. Following a KLR, this turned out to be the most difficult of the traverses, as unknown to Alberto, since the last time he'd been there, the street had been torn up and turned into a construction zone, that looked like craters in Bosnia during the worst of the shelling. As he was waiting behind for the stragglers, he was unaware of the war zone we found in front.

When left to our own decision and being "dual-sporters" we took a gulp and motored on sort of in an English trials approach to street navigation as we bumped through holes, around new manholes being installed, over bricks, through ditches, etc. to bounce out on the other side. This was the scene of the first minor incident as one of our short-legged riders found when he tried to stop and put a foot down only to discover that the ground was further away than planned. The cost was a broken windscreen and dimpled pride.

But at the end of the challenge road, the view opened up to give us a vision of the spreading ruins of Paquime illuminated in great long shadows at the end of the day. Walking the walls and paths of these ruins abandoned around 1300A.D. was particularly moving at that hour of the day. Our time was brief there but memorable.

On the way back, Alberto pointed out that one block over there was a road that was in quite good repair and we could use on the way back if we chose. (we did).

The lodging for the night was modern, clean, and comfortable -- similar to what you'd find at a stateside Holiday Inn or Ramada. And that evening we understood the advantage of traveling with professionals, as Alberto and Rob had set up a memorable evening feast for us in a restaurant sited in a Victorian style house. It was a grand evening, and greatly raised the bar on our expectations regarding the "included" dinners for the trip, although we were warned that on this trip in Chihuahua we would have the best the areas had to offer in each case, but in a few nights, that was still going to be pretty limited. PV Tours includes lodging, dinners and breakfasts as a part of the tours. Overall on the tour we were well-accommodated and well fed and watered with no grounds for complaint.

In Mexico the government owns the oil business exclusively and PEMEX stations are the fuel de jour. The R100 and R1100's seemed to thrive just fine on the Magna Sin (Unleaded) 86-89 Octane gas. The stations were modern and particularly with the PD's large capacity tanks we had no problems at all with finding fuel. We thought we might be siphoning fuel over to the KLR's on a couple of legs, but they made it ok as well.

There is no self service gas in Mexico, but the attendant will let you handle the nozzle yourself if you so desire. After a few attempts, I found the attendants were more than careful so I surrendered that detail to their care. At the PEMEX stations, a tip is customary, and that seems to make the attendants quite eager to be of assistance. The custom is to round up the amount showing on the pump to the nearest Peso (one U.S. dollar equals approximately 10 Pesos) and small fractional change is avoided. The Octane booster, and other gas additives we lugged along were unnecessary. (Note that Mexico is not representative of the rest of Latin America where gasoline quality may vary significantly).

The next day saw clear skies and moderate temperatures but horrendous winds … 40-50mph gusts that made the day challenging. Twenty miles out of town at Colonia Juarez we had our first (and only) river crossing … it was a first experience for many of us, and I will tell you that a GS can make for quite a wake with water rolling high on both sides. The Aerostich Darien pants and jacket coupled with waterproofed boots left me completely dry on the other side, but some of the KLR riders in less appropriate gear found that they were soaked from the waist down and sloshing boots.

A few kilometers later we had the second incident of the trip when one of our members departed his R100GS following his front wheel sliding out in the dirt. In a less than graceful manner he departed his nearly stopped (2-4 mph) motorcycle, flew over the high side, and selected some rough rocks sticking through the dirt as his landing spot. The bike banged up a turn signal and got a hole in a valve cover. The rider regretfully experienced a shoulder dislocation, and as was later determined, probably did some other orthopedic damage as well. (gruesome details) Conveniently a farmer came down the road with a pickup and with willing hands we loaded the GS into the back of the pickup, and the hapless rider into the passenger seat. The farmer drove the unlucky pair back to the prior night's hotel where repairs to machine were managed.

The rest of the tour group elected to stay with the now disabled rider, and abandoned the dirt for the day and decided to take the paved road to the next night's destination. At the hotel we employed the wonders of magical JB Quick Weld, a metallized epoxy that made a quick and very satisfactory repair to the jugs valve cover. With lots of ibuprofen and a bit of Vicodin, our threshed rider found with his right arm lifted onto the throttle handgrip he could still make the vroomer work and so we all got back on our horses and rode on.

The crosswind that afternoon really challenged all of the lighter bikes as they were riding at a 45 degree angle to stay on the road. After a bit, we adopted a "take both lanes" strategy and put a BMW on the right, and then slipped two KLRs up on the left to let them ride in the wind break provided by the heavier bikes. The net comparisons of the bikes by the end of the trip was that the BMW's handled the road conditions better. Rather than fight the wind all afternoon, one of the KLR riders elected to park the bike on the trailer at lunch and ride the rest of the afternoon in the Cockroach rather than continue to fight the winds.

Generally we ended up riding strung out during the day ... starting together as a group, we each had maps and directions and knew where we were going to be at the end of the day. Some elected to stop for photos and some rode hard and everyone was encouraged to ride at their own pace. Alberto and Rob made clear that it was a personal choice issue. We generally had Alberto leading in front and the support vehicle bringing up the rear at whatever the pace was of the slowest rider. You could go your own, and it seemed that people periodically switched groups throughout the trip. I was concerned in advance, about how it would work out as a group and it seemed to end up a comfortable system for all.   Throughout the trip, Alberto and Rob worked hard to keep all of the flock in a safe envelope and did their best in what sometimes were difficult changing situations (welcome to motorcycling and welcome to Mexico).

That night saw us hunkering down at Madera. Accommodations were fine and the food was sparse as we were forewarned. The local diet there was largely rice and beans and that was dinner, along with tortillas and many cervezas. We attempted to communicate the making of a margarita to the bar man and that was a daunting experience that didn't produce any product that was recognizable by any of the multitude. Madera is a bit more spartan than any of our other stops. … We managed to exhaust the entire supply of beer at the restaurant.

The following day, rather than brave a rice and beans breakfast, we rode about 100km to a mid morning breakfast feast that was almost like the Sunday brunch at Ceasar's Palace except in a small restaurant off on the square in Guerrero.

We had the restaurant reserved for ourselves, and the staff was waiting with armloads of dishes when we arrived.   It was only moments before we fully appreciated the concept of the table "groaning" with the spread laid out upon it.