Bikepacking in Oaxaca – A Practice in Stoicism

Oaxaca is Mexican for Always Climbing

Up to this point, I had ridden bikes with Eagle gearing a lot and would have told you the 52 was totally and absolutely overkill.

The steep dirt road was a beast. It was granny gear climbing at its worst or maybe its best depending on whether you think climbing is good or bad. I have been spinning the 52 for the better part of the climb, but then we hit the cement. It may sound strange that we are on a dirt road and then transition to a hard, man-made surface and things would be harder, but the cement was there because without it, the road would just wash away due to the grade of the climb. Cement always means brutal climbing in Oaxaca.

I find myself, not only using the 52, but standing, grinding on that gear. The grade is so steep that I am out of the saddle standing and my head is over the front of my bars. I have video to prove this. The grade continues like this for what seems like forever, but I’m sure was only a mile or so. I did not make it to the top without stopping (I’m pretty sure Kenny did). No, I was forced to step off the bike and catch my breath, take a moment to assess my life decisions, where I currently was and what was within my control. The grade was not, continuing was.

I somehow get the bike moving again and finish out the climb.

At the top of the cement, there is a man sitting, probably waiting for a truck to swing by and give him a ride, he cheers us on and tells us the top is just around the corner. Animo! We feel good about that idea and finish out the cement. Unfortunately, that was the top of that particular road climb, but not of our climb. We have a short descent followed by another 45 minutes of climbing, in the granny gear. Thank god for that 52.

The best part, this is Climb 1 for the day we have planned and Climb 2 is longer and gets so steep it is tagged as a guaranteed hike-a-bike for about 30 minutes.

What is Stoicism

I don’t claim to be any kind of an expert on this subject, merely a student who is at the beginning of their learning, but the more I learn, the more I see it as a way to live a life that is richer and more in line with what I care about. So here’s a quick primer.

People often hear Stoic and think of a man standing in the freezing rain unflinching and emotionless. This is both a great example of Stoic behavior and a good example of a misunderstanding of Stoicism. The difference is considering what is going on that is causing the man to stand in the rain unflinchingly.

Stoicism is an ancient practice. The term actually comes from the word Stoa or porch and a Stoic was someone who learned by either being on the porch listening or being the one teaching, but the porch is what stuck and Stoic, in a very basic sense, is someone who learns on porches. Of course, this has evolved to have popular connotations of the philosophy, like the man in the rain, and the actual practice of learning and applying the Stoic ideas.

Stoicism can be boiled down to the Serinity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

And in Stoic terms:

• Control your perceptions.
• Direct your actions properly.
• Willingly accept what’s outside of your control.

The Stoics claim that mastering those three abilities will provide you with a rich, well-lived and fullest life you can possibly have.

Back to our man in the rain. If he is in the rain because he is trying to show some strength, inner will power and demonstrate his ability to be unflinching, he’s an idiot and should get out of the rain. If, on the other hand, he is, by some force outside of his control, required to be in the rain and he is controling his perception that the rain is temporary and will pass, while ensuring that his proper action is standing in the rain because of duty or obligation and he is willingly accepting those conditions, then yes, he is a Stoic.

As far as I can tell, the practice of Stoicism never has anything to do with being stupid.

Getting to Mexico – Willingly Accept What’s Outside of your Control

We had done our best to control variables that we could to ensure a smooth journey to Oaxaca. We planned out what we needed, got things packed ahead of time, got tickets months in advance on an airline we knew didn’t charge extra for bikes and left the house enroute to the airport with an extra hour to spare on top of the buffer time usually recommended for international travel.

Once we got in the truck, we had to accept all of the variables that weren’t in our control.

On top of the mesa, heading toward Overton traffic comes to an almost standstill and then moves at about 45 MPH. We can’t tell what the hell it is but there is a wide load ahead being escorted by the police that is taking up both lanes of traffic with no way to pass. We cannot choose a different route and we cannot get past. Relax, you built in buffer time. It’s gonna be fine. After about 15-20 minutes of super slow rolling. The wide load rolls off at an exit and we are allowed to continue. Obstacle 1 complete.

The delay on the I-15 gives us a little less than 3 hours when we arrive at the terminal. We unload our Hyperlite backpacks and our bikes in rolling cases. On top of this, we each have a carry-on bag or two. It’s a lot. We drag, roll, waddle into the line. It’s not crazy long and seems to be moving smoothly. There is a lady walking around apologizing for any delays and saying the airport system is being super slow which is what is taking longer than usual. It didn’t seem longer, but thanks for checking in. After about 15ish minutes, it’s our turn.

With luggage in tow, we proceed to the check-in kiosk and begin the process of checking in. Passports are exchanged, questions about what we need to check, etc. And then we stand there while she looks perplexed at the screen in front of her. After what seems like a bit too long to be staring at a screen she says we need to go talk to a different lady. OK. We drag our bags to a different kiosk and patiently await the lady. Once she finishes up with the other travelers she has in front of her, she moves on and begins to, once again, check us in. Soon we are getting the same perplexed look as before. She finally says she needs to call her manager. OK.

She is on her cell phone for a hot minute, what seems like forever, but I’m sure was only a few minutes. She explains that somehow our booking is showing up twice, for the same flight, at two different times. So she has to delete our reservation and recreate it to get it to work. OK. We continue to wait because that is the one thing we can control. We breath deeply trying not to let our impatience show too strongly. After another agonizingly painful wait, she prints our boarding passes. I think, sweet, we are moving forward.

Not accurate. She has us on the flight, but now we need to check our bags. She works on this forever and then says we need to go to another lady. OK. We move again.

At this point, the line that had existed has grown to out the door and then shrunk to no one. We are now some of the last people to be checking in. The perplexed look we are now familiar with returns. There’s a lot of hitting keys and waiting. She turns the screen so we can see what she is dealing with and it’s just spinning. Holy shit! Well, we might not be going to Mexico, but we can’t control that so chill.

As the time to even be able to get through security is fast approaching, we now have two of our ladies attempting to check in our bags. They have swiped my card at least a dozen times. The conversation has now turned to we have to get this checked or they are not going to make the flight. After about 1.5 hours of trying to check in, the printer finally spits out the tags for our bags. They hand us the claim tickets and tell us to run and that they will make sure our bags make it.

We have less than an hour to get through security and to our gate. Well, let’s move.

Our bags and the time are both out of our control. I’m sure we will not be riding bikes in Oaxaca and almost certain we won’t even make the flight. I almost text my parents to not leave Vegas until we get through security just in case we need them to come back and pick us up. I don’t and we rush to security.

Luckily, the line moves quickly, and we are in front of the gate just as they start boarding. Still convinced that no bags are making it on the flight. We sit down and just accept where we are, flying to Mexico convinced we will have no luggage when we get there.

Leaf in the river.

Just keep going – Direct your Actions Properly

Any way you slice it, it’s gonna be a big day.

We get rolling early. Just enough light to not get killed but still fairly dark. The first few miles are cruiser as we leave the city and roll toward the mountains and then as expected, we start to climb. As we begin to gain elevation, there are pine trees and yuccas. As the biospheres transition, many seemingly incongruent juxtapositions immerge. I spin marveling at my surroundings. If there is anything I’ve learned from bikepacking it is to find the joy in where you are at. That doesn’t mean you have to love that you are climbing for hours on end, but if you can find something that is rad and smile, it will keep you going.

We get some cement climbing that seemingly goes on forever and is at least, if not steeper than the day before. I stop and hand out a few MCA stickers to the local children. They are stoked. I smile and keep rolling. The cement ends which suggests that maybe the climb is done, but it sure doesn’t look that way and the terrain pitches upward. The road is rough and riddled with ruts. We all start trying to climb but soon are walking. We made it to the hike-a-bike. The grade is so steep that it is difficult to even walk, let alone push your bike.

As described, the pushing only lasts for about 20 or so minutes and we are very much in the mountains. Pine trees everywhere and then we dump out onto the highway. We regroup and then cruise to San Jose del Pacifico which was our objective from the day prior. We ticked off around 20 miles and it feels like lunch time. We find a little restaurant that is packed, stash our bikes against their billboard and sit down for some calories.

We are high and it is cold so despite the servers prodding and the amazing view on the balcony, we opt to sit inside. Soon we have beers and everyone makes fun of me when I order a meal dubbed for 2, just for me. KB is mad that she now has to order her own and will “never” finish it. The food shows up. It’s amazing, as everything is in and around Oaxaca. Our meal comes in a giant cast iron pot. It looks gigantic, but soon we have both finished our “double” serving.

For us to finish the route, we have to make it about 40 miles each day. Mama Bear and I don’t have any buffer days on the end of our trip. Heather, who hasn’t been feeling well and has a bum knee, is done for the day. They find lodging in San Jose, KB and I choose to keep going.

From the restaurant, we ride right past a turn because the switch back is so steep that the lines are stacked on my Garmin. We flip around and find a small store, resupply and start up the 2nd climb for the day. It starts with cement and is steep AF, as the kids say, but then mellows and pops onto some dirt. There are pine trees and the biggest agaves we have ever seen. Like 6-foot-tall agaves. See photo for reference.

We are actually feeling pretty good. The climbing isn’t as steep as what we had done, and we are making pretty good progress. And then we have a long steep descent that seems to go forever dropping us down through tiny poblados somehow attached to the steep hillside. Our descent ends as we cross two crystal clear streams. I’m about out of water so we filter and then head up. Our legs are shot at this point and the grade is steep. We pedal and walk. Pedal and walk. Any uphill efforts lights our legs on fire. Nothing to do but just keep going.

The cue sheet shows some springs and good camping, but I end up reading said cue sheet as if we are 10 miles farther along than we are. We pass up several suitable sites and just keep going. We would really like to make it to at least 40 for the day, but time is slipping past and the climbing isn’t allowing us to move very fast. We roll into a small town that is marked as having a small store. The owner is out front digging a hole but is happy to open for us. He doesn’t have water or beer to sell. Hmmm. We keep going. There is a stream at the edge of town that is clear and flowing. We stop and filter expecting to have to hobo camp as soon as we leave town.

There’s a short gap and then we roll into what seems like the actual town and just keep pedaling. Just as we are leaving, there is another store. We figure if we are going to have to hobo camp we might as well have some beer. They are open and have both beer and water and Emperadores. We snag our stuff. As we are getting ready to leave, KB notices that their sign says they rent rooms. I inquire. The lady of the house is not in but should be back soon if we want to wait. Seeing that it is late, we decide to pop off a beer and wait.

She’s a bit weary of two gringos out of nowhere asking to rent a room, but says she does for 10 bucks, 5 more than the girl had quoted us, but we weren’t complaining or worried about that. She shows us to what can only be described as an enclosed porch that has been tiled. There is a sketchy bed in the corner with several wool blankets. The bathroom is across the backyard and yes, she says they have a hot shower. We kind of just yard sale in the room. I head out to relieve myself and find Oliva, the lady of the house, getting the hot water heater rolling. There is a hole cut in the bottom of it and she has a fire rolling inside. She even shows me that it is hot. Unfortunately, I tell her, we didn’t bring towels and wouldn’t be showering as it was way too cold to drip dry. She looks perplexed and does not offer towels. No shower for us.

The bathroom is pretty much what you would expect, no seat and no toilet paper. We don’t care. We are stoked to be inside, even without heat, and not moving anymore. We finish up the day with just over 38 miles, close enough, and over 7500 feet of climbing. By keeping things moving, we have gotten ourselves back on track and are camped just below the high point of the route.

Just keep going.

The Day of Down – Control your Perceptions

There is nothing worse than thinking it’s all downhill and then you get hit with a giant climb. This is especially true when you are already smoked from days of riding that were mostly climbing.

As we lay drinking beer in our room, we do what you do at night on a bikepacking trip, we spent a good bit of time looking at what the next day could be bringing and how we wanted to dissect it. It is at this time that I realize how high in elevation we are and that means we are very close to the high point of the route. I can tell we still have a few hundred feet of climbing to peak out, but then there is going to be some down, like lots of down only punctuated by one more long climb.

After the past two days of climbing that we’ve had, it was hard to not get excited and assume that it was going to be an easy day. Due to the nature of the mountains, we looked forward to some coasting but assumed there would be plenty of brutal climbing mixed in that we couldn’t see on the tiny elevation profile on our phones. We do our best to stay in control and know that regardless of how it plays out, we just keep going.

Seeing that we haven’t quite made 40 miles in a day yet, we would like to make up a few of those miles. We awake early to the aforementioned fog and cold. We are packed and rolling by 7. The fog gives the morning a ghostly feeling. The dense forest enshrouds us. The air is thick and there is water everywhere. The ground is moist and soft and slippery. Streams crisscross the road. We immediately start climbing but only for a short jaunt out of town. Then it’s up and down, up and down as the route strings us through the mountains dropping into drainages and then benching back up and out to get around to the next one. The mountains are incredibly rugged in Oaxaca. The climbing thrown at us is steep, but never lasts too long and we are soon coasting. The miles begin to click by.

And then we really start down.

Up to this point, the up and down combined with the cold and wet has kept us constantly changing uniforms. Road points down, put on rain jackets. Once we turn and head back up, strip off rain jackets. Suddenly that changes as we drop enough elevation for the air to warm, the fog disappears and the sun breaks through. We drop out of the densely forested mountains and back into the valleys returning to agaves and cactus. We are still pretty weary of dropping. A little gun shy, not wanting to lose too much elevation knowing that we have to go back up. Our perception is that we will be climbing.

We drop into two small villages. To get into the villages, the route takes us up a road, a cement road. As we turn the corner, we can see there are bunch of guys laying cement. We ask if we can pass and they direct us to another road that is steeper, but already cemented. We find a little store with very little in options. We buy a Coke and a few cookies and top off our water. And then proceed up the climb. The climb is short and is followed by a couple mile descent that is all cemented.

What you need to recognize about these cemented roads is they are all laid by hand. There isn’t a cement truck at the construction site, just a bunch of bags of cement. Each square is laid and textured often with designs that differ as you roll through. As we bomb down this beautiful road, I’m blown away to think about how long it would have taken to cement. We’re talking miles of road prepped, dug, formed, poured and textured by hand. The cement mixed on site. It was a treat to drop this road and the views into the next poblado were of old churches and houses clinging to the hillside. And I don’t say clinging due to poor construction or poverty, no, the hills are just so steep I’m blown away that they are able to build on them.

We turn off onto dirt just before we enter the next town. As expected, we once again start to climb. It’s warm but not hot and the miles tick off and soon we are descending again. We keep waiting for the big climb on the profile, but it comes in ups and downs that keep us rolling. We try not to get too excited, and the last drop keeps seeming like it is just around the corner only to be teased by a short climb and then another corner.

It’s about this time that I realize there are bike tracks on the road again and not local tracks, modern mountain bike tire tracks. 3″ wide ones I would guess. This intrigues me and gives me something to look at as we climb and descend.

We drop into the little town of Santa Maria Zoquitlan. The cue sheet, which I’m now reading correctly, shows a restaurant and stores. We find our way to the restaurant and are surprised to see Kenny and Heather’s bikes parked outside. We walk in to find them dining and drinking beer. Not sure how they got there, but we order up some drinks and food and sit down to relax having finished 50 miles for the day and over 11,500 feet of descent that also somehow includes 5500 feet of climbing.

It turns out to be one of the best days. Lots of beautiful scenery, great food and we end back with our friends. Keeping the thought that we would have to climb always present kept things in perspective, and we got our 50 miles.

Oaxaca is Mexican for Amazing

Our last day of pedaling started in Santiago de Matatlan, the World Capital of Mezcal.

As we ready are bikes on the back porch, there is a hint of smoke in the air. As we roll out the font, we can see there are fires scattered throughout the valley. My first inclination is to assume they are garbage fires, but as we get rolling, they don’t smell like garbage, but rather a typical campfire. As we cross the town and head west up and out of the valley, we pass a mezcaleria aka a place they make mezcal. The smoke that we have been smelling and seeing is coming from the dozens of mezcal ovens that are scattered throughout the valley. As we climb up into the foothills, the smoke layers the town like a thick fog sitting heavy in the valley and stretching well out of town as the morning breeze pushes it out.

Mezcal is still produces in traditional ways. The agave takes forever to grow and then they strip it down, turn it into mush using a horse drawn masher, cook it in giant wood burning ovens and then finish the distillation. What we were witnessing was just part of the process that was normal, day-to-day mezcal making.

We pedal out past agave fields as farmers are either working their harvest or being transported out to work the fields.

The route continues through several small towns. It’s early. People are just going about their everyday lives. The quiet streets are littered with dogs that appear to be having a town council meeting. Ladies in traditional dresses are carrying loads of maza on their heads. As we pass houses, some of the doors are open and we can see them kneading the dough preparing to make what we assume will be tortillas. Men carrying baskets of vegetables are walking toward markets or to be picked up to go to markets to sell their goods. One passes us as we stop on a particularly steep climb and stops. He asks if we are tired and then proceeds to give us some lettuce to refresh us. It feels like our bikes are time machines and have dragged us back a couple of centuries. People just doing people stuff, they way they’ve done it for years.

The time is rolled back even further as we bounce down a dirt road that feels like it is in the middle of nothing. We can’t see towns or much other than the desert vegetation along the road. Then there is an exquisite rock wall. We stop to take pictures oblivious to the fact that we are 100 yards or so from a giant temple, Dainzu.

There are 2 young boys who had ridden their dilapidated bikes to the ruins and are being shown around by what we assume it the groundskeeper. Otherwise, we are the only ones there. It’s quiet and we are allowed to wander as we please. There are tunnels, courtyards, giant steps, pyramids. It feels very strange that we are the only ones there. We linger enjoying the rest and solitude in such an amazing place.

The day continues this way. A few miles of pedaling takes us to another cultural site. Sometimes they are crowded, sometimes they are empty. We stop and have lunch. The benchmark for flavorful food in Oaxaca is extraordinarily high and this lunch hits the mark. The route winds its way through the valley and plops us onto a protected bike path. After a few miles we are back in the city and it’s done.

It feels like we were thrown into an intensive cultural and geographical immersion course of Oaxaca. Based on what we saw, I’m sure one could spend a lifetime in the area and still be discovering new places and people. It’s a firm reminder that bike travel is arguable the best way to see the world. You are at the level of the people exposed to them with nowhere to hide. Your legs are the only thing that get you from place to place and there is no windshield to blur the vistas.

And of course, it’s a great exercise in being a leaf in the river.

Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.