In (yet) another of our ‘variation on a theme’ rides, we bid 2024 farewell with a valley ramble and a 1800m climb tacked on for good measure, both to chime in the Near Year and to get out and stretch our collective legs.
Initially, Greg (2 legs), Scott (2 legs), Huesos (4 legs) and I (2 legs) tacked south west out of town, towards the red clay village of San Marcos Tlapozola. There, we met up with Emma (2 legs), who’d been cruising around the Sierra Norte with her friends (4 between them). That night we camped in a golden, prickly glade above a patchwork of agave fields and in the morning, Huesos woke everyone up by burrowing into their tents, his fine fox tail catching in the glorious sunrise light.
After we’d all shared a languid morning drinking coffee and petting Huesos (astutely, he moved from person to person to ensure maximum attention), we crossed the valley via a faint network of dirt roads, following the Camino Real in places and resupplying on paletas in Teotitlan, before making a dent in the climb to Benito Juárez – a small settlement, named after Mexico’s Oaxacan president, that’s set across a ridgeline in the Sierra Norte, up at 3000m. We pitched camp half way up, polishing off our opus in the morning for second breakfast in one of our all time favourite village comedors – hot chocolate and chile rellenos, in my case.
By chance, Kiwi Michael was passing through town. Michael’s really been making the most of his time in Mexico, having ridden the Vuelta de Citlaltepetl (aka Around Orizaba), the Ojos de Tehuacan cactus loop, and now this Sierra Norte and Hierve del Agua outing. Having procured permission from the community, we all banded together for the final climb up to the village mirador and it’s slightly dubious and vertigo inducing swing bridge, to set up camp in time for sunset and a round of mezcals, appropriately served in our barro rojo face cups.
Not only would we be shielded from what promised to be raucous celebrations in town, judging by the speakers that were being set up in the preceding hours, but camping up top would afford us a spectacular view across the valley come midnight. Sure, it would mean a minor hike-a-bike at the end of the day, but we had Scotty to help manhandle Greg’s Prospector big rig and my wood-filled trailer up to the viewpoint, via a final flight of stoney ‘sort of stairs’. In case you’re not aware, Greg has pedalled all the way own from Alaska, and aside from sporting a beaten up Alaskan plate on his bike as proof of this epic voyage, has filled it his bags with everything that might be required for a multi year tour, which he’s documenting on his fabulous Youtube channel.
As is my way, I crashed out long before midnight. I think only Greg peeled himself out of his sleeping bag to see the show – as he described it, a shimmering and magical sea of lights that extended across the valley far below, punctuated by colorful displays from each village with the arrival of 2025, the most embellished being those above the city of Oaxaca itself. Farewell, 2024!
