Day 8... was another fantastic day of riding... this time to
Creel and the Copper Canyon.
The Copper Canyon is actually several large canyons four times
larger than the Grand Canyon of the United States. It's pretty
much been the #1 place I've wanted to go on a motorcycle since
reading ride reports about the area on
ADV. I
was finally on my way.
After our group breakfast, we once again loaded up the motorcycles
and headed south to Creel.
Our
first stop (aside from the PEMEX station) was to check out an old
church, which apparently had bullet holes in the bell tower.
Now you'd think I would have taken a picture of the outside of the
church and the bullet holes, but no... I just took a picture of the
inside. You'd also think I would have written down the name of
the town where the church was located. Nope.
When I started the bike in the morning, the oil was cool (and
presumably thicker), and the ticking in my engine was gone.
But, when we stopped for gas, the ticking had returned (when the oil
was hot)... and just as loud as before.
The oil in the reservoir pretty much looked like jet-black coffee
from a gas station that had been left in the sun for a week. I
was hoping changing the oil in Creel would fix the issue.
So while the church was indeed beautiful, I was actually racking my
brain trying to figure out what was up with my bike.
Pressing onward to Creel, we once again found ourselves in the
twisties, and once again the groups separated... normal-riding
people and the stupids (I guess at this point there should be
no question as to which group I had aligned myself with?).
Good times!
The road to Creel took us through some beautiful scenery. We
rode through the plains before getting into the mountains as we
climbed to our destination at 8,000' elevation.
An apple a day.
At some point I passed these two walking down the road...
Since there were no other riders anywhere around me, I turned around
and asked if I could take their picture. They smiled and said
yes until the camera cam out... then I got the Grant Wood faces.
I only wished I'd packed a pitchfork...
As we neared Creel, we saw much more livestock along the road,
including many magnificent-looking horses. I felt sorry for
the folks in my mirrors. My Two Brothers exhaust literally
scares the crap out of every farm animal in existence, and they sure
do run in random directions after I ride by...
We finally arrived in Creel in the late afternoon...
Finally!
After some pretty pathetic whining, I talked Maralan into giving me
a bottom-floor room to make hauling my gear into the room less
strenuous. Hauling all my crap in and out of hotel rooms was
getting old.
We unloaded the bikes and set out to explore Creel. Beer and
ice cream was our first mission (I guess that's really two
missions). We found a place that sold cones; vanilla, por
favor. We also found an Internet cafe that would be handy, and
eventually we finally found a restaurant that served beer.
Later in the evening at dinner, Brewer spotted a guy eating alone
wearing a Horizons Unlimited T-shirt, so Brewer went over to talk to
him. It turned out to be Ibarra from ADV, and he and Brewer
chatted about places to to go ride. But... not only did he
tell us places to go, he drew us the most accurate hand-sketched map
ever...
We asked him if he only had one day to explore, what would he do?
He told us to head to El Divisadero where the view of the canyon was
fantastic. Then he said to head into San Rafael. The
road would become dirt and we'd want to look for the signs to
Bahuichivo and Urique. Once we got to Cerocahui, we'd pass the
train station, and continue on to Urique.
Hell Yeah!
We told him how much we appreciated the map and directions and how
we looked forward to meeting him again. Thanks again
Ibarra!
I polled the group on how many would be coming with us on this
excursion... 4. So off to the Internet cafe I went to make 4
copies of the map (OK 5... I wanted one for next time in case mine
got mangulated).
Back at the hotel, the ticking noise was still on my mind... time to
change the oil.
I had about a quart and Prof had a new quart, which I bought from
him. The little bit of remaining oil I needed I begged from
Vegas.
A few weeks before this trip, my skid plate (engine guard,
whatever...) had arrived from TouraTech. The number one
design flaw was that it didn't have a hole to access the oil drain
plug. Being a forward-thinking kind of guy, I fixed that
problem before I installed it...
Changing the oil should be a piece of cake since it will drain
through the hole.
I retrieved the appropriate tools from the pannier and went to
work...
I strategically cut the top off of an empty liter-and-a-half water
bottle. The bottom of the bottle would catch the oil under the
drain hole in the skid plate, and the top of the bottle would be the
funnel for the new oil.
After draining the upper reservoir and pouring it into a second
bottle, I went to work on the sump.
As I removed the drain plug, the design flaw of my fix to the design
flaw of the skid plate became obvious. I had not accounted for
changing oil when the bike was on a slight rearward incline.
As the oil came pouring out of the engine, half of the flowing oil
wasn't going through my perfectly drilled hole; it was now dripping
from the rear of the skid plate and creating what would later be
called Exxon Valdez.
Crap!
I caught as much as I could, but for the most part, the majority of
it found its way onto the ground. I "found" a towel and began
cleaning up the spill. Of course my buddies were laughing
their asses off as the cameras came out.
I cleaned up as much as I could from the ground...
