The last time I posted, I was sharing (yet another) report on an Ixtepeji outing, aka the double views of Doble Mirador.

This is a more rambunctious variation on that theme. At least, it begins the same way (the cross valley dash, then the 1500m winch up to Benito Juárez), before diving down the rabbit hole of Mil Rios, a split personality singletrack that’s both forested and flowy, and rowdy and rutted.

What’s more, we rode it on delightfully inappropriate bikes (I know Joe Cruz would have approved), a first-class collection of characterful steeds that covered the drop bar to basket to vintage 26er to trailer gamut.

It’s early March, and we’re moving steadfastly into the dry season here in Oaxaca. The days are getting ever hotter. The hillsides are parched and brown. Water is scant. Lizards scurry this way and that. And the terrain under tyre is becoming dustier by the day, whipping up ever more spectacular rooster tails of brown pow.

All of this meant that the climb was (for me at least) a tough nut to crack, at least until we’d hit pine tree shade and the cool, upper echelons of the Sierra Norte. Even up at 2900m, the night’s no longer bring any biting coldness with them, freeing us to wander into the village to soak up some mountain life vibes (its the basketball court the obvious social hub), instead of diving at sundown into the Dyneema cocoon of my tent with Huesos. Only in the morning, as we waited for the fine cooks of the comedor to rustle up our chilaquiles and champurrado, did I feel a gentle nibble from the mountain air. As for the way down the next morning, it was soon as hot as a comal once more. Luckily, Chalino scoped out a deep and cosy trailside plunge pool, and I dragged a panting Huesos in too.

As for our oddball collection of improbable bikes… I do agree, more ‘appropriate’ machines would have been the ‘better’ choice for this style of outing. But that didn’t stop us having a tonne of fun. My Jones&Farfarer setup worked surprisingly well. I was able to ride all the trail, surprising myself by deciphering Mil Rio’s series of brain-scratchingly rutted, singletrack puzzles – bar one technical slab that outsmarted me. All the while, this single-wheel trailer somehow followed me faithfully through, bouncing sky high, as Huesos trotting closely behind. The others did great too, despite unlikely tyre widths or curly bars, and a general lack of dropper posts and suspension and bike-specific footware. And we even made it all down in one piece, a relief given the 50% helmet-wearing ratio in the group.

Back on the valley floor, we dived into a Chalino-approved ice creamery for refreshments (amazing, especially the pistachio paleta, IMHO), then finished off this hot and dusty little number back into town. Thanks, amigos!

Hot hot hot! Where did all the green go?!

Huesos in digging-a-nest mode. I commend his dedication to the task, especially as he was only able to curl up for a few fleeting minutes before we pressed on.

Is your footware bike-specific, Chalino?

Welcome to Bromeliad World! Stand still for long enough and the chances are one of these guys – a Tillandsia or an epiphytic snake cactus – will grow on you.

A new line of eyewear by Mason.

Finally, the green stuff and some welcome shade.

We made it to the top of the climb in time to bask our beards and moustaches in the full majesty of the late afternoon light.

Room for one more? Our little camping nook.

Chalino must have missed the memo that it wasn’t jeans-appropriate-weather. Still, he sure looked sharp lounging in the sunshine for chilaquiles and champurrado the next day.

Buenos días señor Benito!

Mil Rios was both beautiful to behold…

… and rambunctious to ride.

Our mid-trail plunge pool. We paid for it in sweat.

Chalino and his 80s Univega and MYO bags. Picante!

Mason and his Bianchi Basket Bike. Who needs disc brakes and suspension, anyway?

I’ll leave these images here with you for a moment…

Huesos. Normally a Seeker of Shade, but sometimes a Basker of Sun.

Eagle-eyed readers may notice a Strisland Barnacle Fork…

A fine, idiosyncratic collection of steeds. Also, can we take some time to appreciate that equally fine sponge-finish wall…

All of these bikes no doubt deserve at least a paragraph of backstory. But let’s celebrate Mason’s Bianchi for now. “It was my mom’s when I was a kid and I used to have it set up as a fixed gear with pink track wheels and fenders. The front rack is 1/4” stainless tubing that I welded myself. It has been my auxiliary bike most of my time with it. I pick up plastic dinos off the road and try to affix them to it. I’ve grown to appreciate its utility and capability spending so much time with it in the last six months. The front rack I made specifically to go on another bike so I had to fashion a few extra parts to make it work. The basket also possibly used to hold gym clothes at my mom’s high school. The frame bag I sewed for it right before coming to Mexico. Magic mushroom on the left, poisonous mushroom on the right. Enlightenment and death.”

Wonderful!

William and his Kona Sutra. Sporting the Stealth Look.

And almost home, via Rollercoaster Road and Combi Alley.

The Movies

The Route

A simple formula for this one. Big Climb! Food! Sleep! Food! Big Descent!

Benito Juarez has camping and cabanas, and an excellent comedor. Riding the trail with suspension, on an unladen bike, would doubtlessly notch things up to 11… but we had fun on our quirky bikes and with camping gear regardless. High vibes!

In the dry season, make sure you don’t skimp on water for the climb. And don’t forget to hop in that plunge pool, Wim Hof-style, and exfoliate with oak leaves.

Thanks for your cameraman skills, Chalino!