An Alternative Ending

After sleeping under the stars for 978 days and travelling the entire length of the equator several times, he packed his bike into a neat little box and boarded a flight back to his home country. He was a borne adventurer, a rough man with a steady, firm, handshake and worn out hands that would regularly get him out of trouble in his travels. He arrived at the airport with time to spare, checked in his bike in a box and boarded the plane.

The state of the art 878 airplane had an impecable flight record, yet that day it had two simultaneous engine failures and crashed in a remote part of Africa.
There were reportedly no survivors. The remains of the fuselage were found 8 years after the crash by a non profit organization funded and led by his sister (a well known author and nobel laureate). The remains were apparently intact, except for heavy damage from the sun, wind, wild animals and a small hole made in the cargo compartment.
Thorough inventory checks showed that the bicycle was missing and his remains could never be positively identified. Years later, Dr. Passo, a genetic archaelogist that studied the relation between African genes and local artforms, found a particular tribe in the most inmaccessible parts of the Jira mountains with a genetic strand related to that of our adventurer. Upon this notice, his nobel sister quiclkly assembled a team and set off in a sea worthy vessel acquired by the non profit org. They arrived to Africa shortly thereafter.
A series of extensive laboratory tests, confirmed that the tribe in question had developed an outstanding mastery of hand labour and were astonished to learn that the tribe in question had adopted the handshake as a means of formal and informal salutation within the past 50 years.
After years of sociological studies by an artifficial intelligence instance completely modelled on the works of Dr Levi Strauss, the handshake in question was traced back to a government adviser who had travelled extensively and met several european personalities. The adviser had a very solitary life and recently passed, he had been buried, according to tradition, with his most valued possesions, next to the remains of of his pet, a domestic mountain lion. Several large scale attempts were made to lacate his next of kin, but alas, they were all unsuccessful.
In keeping with religous observances, The remains in question were never exhumed, and although there were rumors of a two wheeled steel artifact, the team focused on trying to correlate the newly developed tribe dynamics to the genetic information of the adventurer. In a last resort effort, the non profit company tried to trace the genetic strands of the mysterious adviser to its ancestors, they were stunned to find that he beared no relation with any tribe around.
Years of analysis on the tribe members yielded the base data for a russian laboratory to program an advanced simulation to be executed through a 10 year timeframe on state wide distributed super computer, fractionally powered by the russian nuclear reserve. The ambitious project simulated the entire universe, through time and space until the point of the plane crash and was designed to calculate the possibilities of surviving such a crash. The results proved that such a crash would effectively erase any memories, and that if a human were to survive, it would be highly likely that the personality of such victim be unrecognisable.
After a lifetime of research, the nobel sister had a breakthrough discovery, brought through by the laboratory in Russia. After more that 30 years running paralel simualtions of millions of possible universes with slight variations, enough information was acquired to ascertain that a 70 kilogram male could survive that very plane crash, and under very specific conditions, learn an african dialect and be accepted as. Functioning member of society. The nobel sister had accrued significant wealth throigh these discoveries and died less than a month later in a laboratory accident while trying to extract genetic information from a live predator.
There were no succesors of the family, yet the non profit organization became the largest privately owned caregiver in Africa and was awarded a permanent patent on any sort of simulation of the universe. The African tribe gained worldwide notoriety for their exceptional endurance, winning a streak of more than a hundred ultramarathons all over the world, most of them on a bicycle. The world leaders that had met them, were particularly taken with their firm, steady and confident handshake.

Holger Franz Hagenbusch: A Professional Opinion

I feel a pretty deep connection to Holger Franz Hagenbusch. I met him on a beatiful morning on the mountain pass between Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl. I recognized him instantly as a fellow bike traveller, upon deeper examination we found that we had both lived close to the town Bochum, in Germany. I had looked exactly like he looked in december 2010 when I had climbed that very road to Paso de Cortés with my bike, on my way to Chiapas and eventually Cancún, just like him.

Skipping most of the usual questions I jumped right into the direction and duration of his trip, of course, asking about his equipment. We talked about his bike, a Surly. A german with a Surly? Pretty remarkable and unusual combination. And without a Rohloff? Even weirder. Holger explained that he had built this bike in America – I inspected his bike closely. It was a Long Haul Trucker with a front and rear panniers. I used to travel with a Surly Cross Check and loved it. I travelled the baja, chihuahua, mexico cancun, Barcelona to Slovenia, the pyrenees and Norway with it. All before it was taken from me in the city of Guadalajara. A group of 5 people took it from me. Apparently they only wanted my cell phone –These amateur mexican robbers had no idea what my bike was worth. To add insult to injury, there was no signal to unlock my phone from the icloud account that protected it and they grew ever more anxious. They dragged me away from the street and into some train tracks, I could hear the train coming at a distance. They made me kneel and pushed a gun right to the back of my head. GIVE ME THE PASSWORD! They demanded. ‘I’m telling you the password’, I replied, ‘but it’s not working’, I explained there was no signal, really not wanting to die giving customer support to a group of disgruntled idiots.

They beat me up a little every time the password did’t work. The train horn broke the silence intermittently as it was nearing. They were losing their patience. They threatened to hit me with the butt of the gun and leave my body on the train tracks for the train to dispose of. Their shouting grew louder, their beating me up too, the cold steel pressed to my head every time they asked for the password. The sound of the train now an impossible roar– WAIT, I said: take my bike!! It’s worth more than the phone! ‘How much?’ they asked–I hesitated, not wanting to disclose the full price… about 10,000! OK, they said. They disappeared to the other side of the tracks, just before the train passed and left me there kneeling. I could see my white, custom Surly Cross Check rolling through the train gaps beneath the passing cars. It was a lucky getaway for me. I’m lucky to be alive.

Today, I can’t help but remember when in 2010 I rode the exact same road that Holger died on. Back then I wrote:

My opinions on the zapatista movement are generally neutral. I must say I feel empathy and completely disagree with the military and political oppression in the area, however I am not an expert on the subject, and it’s not my intention to judge, but this is what I lived through when I went by:

“They will rob you here, you know? They say they are zapatistas and even if they’re not, they will fuck you”. That is the first thing I heard when I entered Ocosingo, from a group of teenagers. –the next thing I heard was “If I were you, I’d just go back, it’s going to get dark and all hell will break loose”.

Sign in Ocosingo highway that reads: “You are entering Zapatista territory, rebellious, here the people rule, the government obeys”.

It is notable that this incident happened almost in the exact same place where Holger was found, in the same road. I shiver when I think of this. I’ve ridden my share of roads, races and courses. Holger Franz Hagenbusch and Krzystof Chmielwski were not part of an accident as the authorities have said. Their bodies did not end up in that cliff after being hit by any car. They were purposely thrown there after being murdered, I have no doubts about it.

  1. I’ve ridden that road, it is not dangerous, car wise.
  2. Bikers uphill tend to distance themselves, especially when their gear differs as greatly as these guys’ did, (bike trailer vs. no bike trailer).
  3. You do not lose control of a bike while going uphill.
  4. The whole idea that the this is an accident is completely ridiculous.

Having travelled through most of my country, I can only say that the dangers are becoming un manageable. I have been robbed several times, Humberto Cabrera was shot in the face by a .45 caliber illegal weapon, I barely survived the ordeal in Guadalajara I described before, and Holger will never ride his bike because of this. The people responsible for this should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

* Cover picture is a self portrait taken on the road from Tuxtla Gutierrez to San Cristobal de las Casas in 2010; Holger’s instagram: ; Holger’s website:

Your stupid lifestyle

We have always needed to work to get what we want, that isn’t new. From time long past, the work we required to do involved a certain amount of physical activity, we traded abilities for goods, goods for other goods or daughters for land, all of them required hard work. Even after currency was implemented as a medium of exchange, after Plato’s Akademia came into being (the birth of the geek who sat on chairs and thought for a living), after the industrial revolution and after the invention of many other commodities, we still had to perform physical exertion, if not for anything else, to physically transport ourselves.

Our bodies are meant to perform physical exertion, even at a chemical and physical level, and psychologically as well there is no denying that what we now call exercise, which used to be part of what we called life, is not only healthy, but even necessary. Yet, we drive on huge moving cars, trains or buses, we ride on elevators, escalators, even doors are automatic nowadays… and it turns out that all this is not healthy for us, it’s damaging our well being and costing us thousands on medical bills, health magazines, sports equipment and yes, on gyms. What is a gym? For most of us, a gym is where you go compensate for your everyday lack of activity -unless you’re a top athlete, or under physical rehab in which case there is no substitute-.

It’s a wonderful irony: We avoid manual means of locomotion at all costs, we ride on toll freeways or high speed trains to “save” time yet, come the afternoon we flock to the gym, running on treadmills staring at “sports” on a TV or taking a detailed look at the seams of the shorts on our partners arse while riding on a static bike. We drive on a car to get to a gym, where we ride on a bike that doesn’t move. Wouldn’t it be better to just ride a bike to the gym? In fact, wouldn’t it be better to skip the gym altogether and ride to work/school? – But I live way too far to ride to work, plus it’s dangerous, plus it’ll ruin my hair, the more sofisticated reader might ponder. But he could still do part of it on a bike, mixing it with whichever public transport he wishes or with small walks or he could avoid elevators, take the stairs and all the while work on his Gluteus Maximus. Life is full of possibilities indeed, and I maintain that the greatest, cheapest and most accessible exercise apparatus is the omnipresent floor, the common stairs a solid second.

However, there is a bigger problem, because if you take a closer look, it turns out a lot of these activities (cars and transport) are harmful for the environment as well… and now I must note, hoping I’m not coming across as a total luddite, hippie or both: I love technology -I’m a mechatronic engineer- big on programming and high tech stuff. The problem is I was recently introduced to the concept of a Progress Trap and frankly it seems we’ve fallen on a few of such traps, I’m rather sure of it:

A progress trap is the condition human societies experience when, in pursuing progress through human ingenuity, they inadvertently introduce problems they do not have the resources or political will to solve.

I’m worried, after familiarizing myself with the subject, a fear for our own contriving collective intelligence and diminishing future has begun to grow on me. The clearest and most typical example of a progress trap is the invention of the beloved automobile. It’s no wonder to me that even Aldos Huxley’s god in his dystopian classic A Brave New World is named after Henry Ford. The automobile has been a status of progress and indeed an advantageous addition to our lives, it truly has changed the world. However, in the big scheme of things, it has contributed as much to our wellbeing as a cheesecake to a weight watchers meeting.

Don’t get me wrong, I like cars, I own two of them, they are great examples of human ingenuity and most of the times, they make our lives better, but nowadays, in a society that strives to eradicate atomic power, reduce CO2 emission to zero, become self sustainable and healthier, cars as we know them, well, they don’t really fit in, do they? But that’s the part of the progress trap concept that’s really scary, we designed all this amazing boats, trains and cars to transport all kinds of things half way around the world at a reasonable cost. We created a society sustained by a global economy dependent on all these transported goods -this is relatively new- and as it happens, it is precisely these things that are causing global warming, over cropping, pollution and non-sustainable commerce, yet we are too far along to turn around, to hooked on the stuff to stop, we can’t go back.

We can’t take cows back to Europe, we can’t take oranges away from New Yorkers -as little as 50 years ago it was not uncommon for New Yorkers to receive oranges from California as a Christmas present- or apples (electronic or otherwise) out of international markets. We are proverbially “fucked”, the plane has crashed into the mountain and we continue to collectively pull on the throttle, ignoring all of the solutions that we already have, mostly because they are not to our -and I mean our society’s- short-term economical advantage. Emphasis on solutions we already have, because we do, consider the following:

Bicycles are not only for sporting, they are also a good way to move from A to B, substitute kids for a few cases of beer to appeal to a younger audience.


I must confess I can think of many reasons for not using bicycles in Mexico City, one of them very important: it’s suicide, in a city with 28 million? It has to be. Everyday bicycle commuting in a city as big and chaotic as this one must be scary at best, or plain life threatening, depending. The utopian image shown in the picture above is probably not found in the bulk of this city, right? Perhaps on cherry picked areas and situations, which brings me to my next, seemingly contradictory point: You can cherry pick your situation and safely ride your bike to your job or school, and for that I will provide you, my avid reader, with a list:

  1. Use common sense, which is surprisingly uncommon
  2. Polish your bike skills, ride with your eyes open and no headphones, attention is paramount. Your life depends on it
  3. Invest some time into finding a viable (read: safe) route
  4. Get some lights that are really visible
  5. Ride defensively and always expect the worst; parked cars will open their doors, crossing cars haven’t seen you, pedestrians will jaywalk, assume massive potholes are everywhere,  motorbikes will try to shove you off the road and trucks/peseros/camiones will go out of their way to block your safe passage and murder you
  6. Admit that cars are killing machines and avoid them like the plague; better to do a few extra kilometres on an empty street, than to save 20 minutes. Exercise, good. Risk, bad
  7. Use a bicycle lock that is at least 10% of the cost of your bicycle, otherwise you might get there, but your bike won’t last long

Find a nice, safe, enjoyable route. Do whatever it takes. Use Google street view, drive around, ride your bicycle, scooter or skateboard and find streets without cars, try small pedestrian streets, side streets which you would normally avoid. You can ride on the sidewalk (carefully). In this city, bicycles are not respected by cars, trucks or anyone. Public transport will try to run you over and there is almost no specific infrastructure -apart from a few upper class neighbourhoods, there are few usable bike lanes- but this can all be turned to your advantage. The city is yours; cyclists are above the law, or maybe just under it but it doesn’t matter. If you strive to reduce your carbon footprint, be healthier, thinner, look better and save money on transport, gasoline and gyms, you can do it. Think about this next time you complain about traffic, polluting trucks or the ridiculously unintelligent doble no circula policy.

If he can do it, so can you. Photograph by Luis Arcadio de Jesús.

Everardo J. Barojas

The Trip pt. 1

After a few days of “bullshitting” (ie: blogging) my way through life and lying to myself about the epicness of my future trip, I managed to actually leave my home with my new non-custom made non-hand built bike; an ’89 DiamondBack Ascent EX bought for exactly 8 bags of peanuts. Indeed, my vintage rig was bling, and updated with modern components I was quite happy to explore mexico’s darkest off roads.

Of bikes & men
My tasteful vintage touring rig.

This time, the leaving part was not done alone (there´s a first time for everything), instead I left with a dear friend of mine: Mario, with whom I have climbed for many years. He was to ride with me for the first five days, after which I would continue alone. Cycling with a friend is not as nice as you might think though (lots of waiting/decision making involved). However, travelling with a friend is much better than going at it alone, especially when you camp, sightsee or just hang out. Truth be told, the biking part is possibly worst, because unless you ride at exactly the same pace, either you’re waiting for someone or stressed of having to catch up with him; it’s the other things that really take a turn for the better. At the risk of sounding like a new age, pacifist hippie (which of course, I am) these things become really important when you’re alone for a long time.

If you’ve read this other post, you can probably infer that the main purpose of the trip was to climb. And honoring this purpose, the climbing started almost right away; you pretty much have to climb to get out of Mexico city because it’s a valley. The first climb leads to Milpa Alta and eventually down to Amecameca, the last important town before entering the national park that hosts Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl. It is a beautiful climb that many riders use to leave Mexico city and the ensuing descent is equally entertenaing, as it meanders through some very ancient country where maize has been grown for thousands of years.

Milpa Alta
Looking down from the third "mirador", the summit of the Milpa Alta col.
Getting close to Amecameca
Beautiful agricultural landscapes give way to mountains.

Having now really left the massive amorphous urban blob that we call D.F, the true adventure started as we snailed slowly through the landscape that I would come to childishly call home for the next month: the trans volcanic belt.

The Popo
A partial eclipse of the heart.

Home sweet home: leaving that view behind, we knew we were headed for a nice trip and that maybe we were not underestimating the epicness of mexican off-roads, it’s amazing how re-assuring a nice view can be.

New definition of “epic”

I recently had a visit from three international riders, each of them a very different and amazing individual, and each of them on a separate trip. Through their visit I learnt about really long beards, really good punk music, dancing elephants and the truth about Rohloff speedhubs (also known as the Holy Grail of bike touring components).

For the sake of entertainment, I will attempt to elaborate a little more on each one:

From left to right, Rob, Chrigi and Marie

Rob is a 55 year old welsh cyclist, he has almost no earthly things (no TV, no property, no furniture) and whenever he is out of work he is touring or travelling. He has toured to Tibet, (where he met Reinhold Messner no less), Patagonia, Iceland, Europe and a handful of other small (2 to 18 months) tours of the sort. After meeting him, I can’t ever use the proverbial getting older excuse, or any other, really.

On to Chrigi (in his fourth decade), the guy with the epic beard: At the moment (feb/2012), he’s been on the road for 3 years and 42,000 km. Chrigi is the only person I’ve met who has broken a Rohloff, (I’m sticking to my derailleurs and ancient cogs from now on). He quit his job as a chocolatier in Chocolate Country (also known as Switzerland), sold his stuff and embarked on a trip that makes most of my so called tours look like grocery getting or fixed gear urban riding.

And now Marie, a self proclaimed “gringa”, born in california. She started cycling a couple of years ago but has already toured across the US of A and pretty much half of Mexico. At only 24 years old, she is the youngest of the lot, and pretty much the youngest rider I have met doing the panam route. She keeps a nice blog and is probably constantly teaching important lessons to mexican women and machos who think it impossible to travel alone as a young lady.

Here they are sight seeing in the centro:

Rob & Chrigi sightseeing.

Notice the legendary “swiss bulge” under Chrigi’s shirt, one of the many manifestations of swiss superiority as an evolved futuristic race.

We became as close as a group of solo riders can get in a few days of non-riding time (which is what most people could achieve over coffee break were they not distracted by smartphones), and soon discussed the advantages of cycle touring over any other kind of transport, at which point Rob enlightened us with the following video:

Which really says more about bicycle use than most cycling propaganda in the new continent. In ye old continent, bicyclers do not need such interventions, as it is a normal thing and not something bullshitters (ie: me) blog about.

Riding the highest road in North America

It’s been a long time since my first post (a true masterpiece of modern blogging), but as you may or may not have heard, I recently (Jan 2012) embarked on an “epic” off road traverse of the mexican trans volcanic belt and east sierra. I was following this route (click on the blue markers to see info on important bits):

View Larger Map

Granted, it was a short trip -around 1000 km- but most of these were off road, and during the 3 weeks of cycling entreprenouring I climbed around 26,000 metres, 90% of the time well above 2,400 metres. For those of you who think in feet, that means 85,300 ft of climbing above 7,800 ft.

The pinnacle, at least physically, of those weeks was climbing the service road for the LMT (Large Millimiter Telescope) right to the summit of the Sierra Negra volcano, which sits next to Pico de Orizaba, and at 4,600 m (15,000 ft) is home to the highest road in North America. As my title gently suggests, this is the main matter of this particular post (more on the rest of the trip later) and I will henceforth, get on with it.

I’ve been thinking long and hard on how to describe the road, and after a lot of mental strain I have successfully found a word to describe it: amazing. Actually, thinking a bit harder I thought of one (1) additional word: hard. Amazing & hard is mostly what my limited describing abilities can manage, although it was also cold, sandy, slippery, foggy and high.

Winding, sandy, high road at 4,300m

It was nice to finally bike here, I had tried a year before and was denied access because I did not have a permit (if you need a permit, email Ing. Janina Nava). I will say that reaching a summit by bike is not nearly as dramatic as dragging one’s behind through a ridge or front pointing the last steep ice slope, dramatically grasping for breath. However it is equally tiring, less stressful and you do get down a lot faster; it’s sort of like skiing in that way, so not all that bad.

Irrefutable proof of my presence and success.

I hope you enjoyed it, and will continue to post soon.