21 May - 1 June 2023

• 21 May - Durango to San Francisco de Mezquital (52.0 mi, 83.7 km)

• 22 May - Rest day in San Francisco de Mezquital

• 23 May - San Francisco de Mezquital to Wild Camp Sierra Madre (16.5 mi, 26.6 km)

• 24 May - Wild Camp Sierra Madre to Wild Camp La Michilía Biosphere Reserve (26.8 mi, 43.1 km)

• 25 May - Wild Camp La Michilía Biosphere Reserve to Súchil (29.4 mi, 47.3 km)

• 26 May - Súchil to Sombrerete (31.0 mi, 50.0 km)

• 27-29 May - Layover in Sombrerete

• 30 May - Sombrerete to Zacatecas via bus

• 31 May-1 June - Layover in Zacatecas

The Edge of the Desert

The city of Durango sits on the northwestern edge of Mexico’s high central desert. Winds moving inland from the Pacific Ocean are wrung dry by the Sierra Madre mountains, arriving on the central plateau nearly devoid of moisture. As a result, scrubby desert plants and grasses dominate the high plains that extend east and south of Durango.

Following a pattern that is typical throughout North America, the western edge of the central plateau - where it meets the Sierra Madre mountains - is where many of Mexico’s principal inland cities can be found. It is analogous in many ways to the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, where cities like Calgary, Denver and Albuquerque line the foothills of the mountains at the edge of the Great Plains. Instead of striking out across the harsh plateau, our route would remain in this transition zone, cycling alternately through the mountains and lowlands. 

But first we had to get out of Durango. Fortunately, we departed on a Sunday morning. As a result, traffic was light compared to the bumper-to-bumper lines of cars we had seen during the rest of the week. In just under 45 minutes, we reached the edge of the city. From there, the vehicle traffic slowly faded away, and we enjoyed a smooth ride on a paved highway for the rest of the day. For the next two hours we cycled quickly across the dry flatlands.

But the flat road didn’t last. By mid-morning we were cycling across a series of ridges that sometimes had us down in our lowest gears. Near the top of the highest ridge we stopped to gaze out over the parched landscape. Below us was the Boca del Mezquital, a deep ravine that cuts through the foothills. Sparse vegetation was scattered across pale brown hills, with the Sierra Madre rising up in the background.

The ridges were followed by a huge, speedy descent, which dropped us nearly 2,000 ft (610 m) in less than half an hour. By then the day was warming up, so the downhill run was especially welcome. 

There must have been a good source of water down in the valley. At the bottom of the descent we were suddenly surrounded by extensive farmlands. Fields of hay, prickly pear (nopales) and squash, as well as a few orchards, replaced the open scrublands of the higher elevations. There also were a lot more ranch buildings and small towns along the road.

But with the heat from the sun intensifying, we wanted to get to our destination as fast as possible. We pushed on, quickly covering the final miles to San Francisco del Mezquital (pop. 2,106).

The Hotel Principal was a typical, work-in-progress, small town hotel. Piles of construction materials lurked in corners of the lobby hinting at some mysterious, unfinished renovation project. There was no air conditioning, and not even a fan. The on-site restaurant was closed (we arrived on a Sunday). Furthermore, it wouldn’t open the next day because the managers would be out of town for “an event.” This was not exactly ideal. We had planned to take a rest day in San Francisco del Mezquital to help us regain some conditioning in our legs after the long layover in the city of Durango (and before tackling a big climb back into the mountains). But the room was clean and we would be able to find other food in town. So our plans didn’t change.

The good news was that the town’s main square was just a short walk away. Over the course of the next day we alternated between visiting the plaza to get food, and sweltering in our hotel room. Most of the time, the town was pretty low-key, with not much going on. Ranchers slowly riding their horses through town were a surprisingly common sight. But things were much more lively in the evenings, once temperatures started to cool down. That’s when vendors would set up shop to serve the crowds of people who gathered in the plaza for some socializing at the end of the day.

An All-Uphill Day

What can we say about the road out of San Francisco del Mezquital? The road goes up. And up. And then up some more. We gained more than 3,500 ft in elevation (1,067 m) the first day out, and didn’t even make it to the top. Much like our initial climb up into the Sierra Madre mountains (from Mazatlán to Durango), the gradient was moderate enough to ride nearly all the way. And, of course, it helped that the road was paved with asphalt. But the grinding uphill never ceased. We gained elevation so fast that just over two hours into the ride, we had left the lowland desert behind and were back in the higher elevation, pine-oak forests.

The views quickly became spectacular. There were sweeping vistas back towards San Francisco del Mezquital, as well as other deep-cut, mountain valleys. Even better, the increase in elevation helped to keep us from overheating. Although the sun was hot, once we got over 6,000 ft (1,830 m), we enjoyed a cool, mountain breeze.

About five hours into the ride, the fences started. We had reached a section of the road that wasn’t quite as steep. That made the cycling easier, but the appearance of mile after mile of fences was a big concern, since it would make finding a place to camp difficult. For the rest of the day, both sides of the road were fully lined with the barbed-wire fences. Worse, all the gates that we passed were secured with seriously big padlocks. We started to wonder if we would have to cycle all the way to the next town - many miles up the road. That was a daunting prospect given that the ride would be almost all uphill, and we were both feeling tired.

But then we got lucky. After seven hours on the road we found an unlocked gate across a rough dirt road that looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time. We let ourselves through the gate and followed the 2-track path as it quickly led away from the main road. It was perfect. There were several potential campsites to choose from, where it looked like people had camped previously. Plus, the overgrown condition of the road gave us confidence that no one was likely to come that way during the night. We set up our camp chairs and rested for a while before pitching the tent. It was a wonderful end to the day.

Los Lobos (the Wolves)

It was a very active night. We particularly enjoyed hearing a number of wild animals in the dark. There was a Mexican whip-poor-will softly repeating its name, some coyotes making a ruckus in the distance, and an owl tooting nearby. Our campsite was not that far from the Michilía Biosphere Reserve, a large protected area in the highlands. Perhaps the reserve supported more wildlife than in other places we had recently camped.

In the morning, it was back to riding uphill. For most of the first two hours of the ride we continued our ascent toward the remote, mountain town of Charco Largo.

As we cycled higher into the pine forests we spotted some of the high-altitude birds, like band-tailed pigeons. And we were impressed by the appearance of a shrub with strikingly bright, rust-colored bark. In some areas it was one of the dominant plants, giving the forest a distinctly exotic look.

Arriving in the village of Charco Largo (pop. 42), we stopped at the small shop on the corner for water and food. This was one of those shops where you don’t pick out your own purchases. The proprietor comes to the window, and you tell him or her what you want to buy. That can pose a challenge for us, especially when we are unfamiliar with particular Mexican brand names, or our Spanish doesn’t include the perfect adjectives to describe exactly what we are looking for. 

When we tried to ask for water, at first it seemed like the store wasn’t going to have enough. The proprietor had three liters on the shelf, and told us it was all that was available. But we had another day of cycling and wild camping ahead of us, and this was the only store we would pass along the way. We needed at least six more liters. When we pressed him, the owner finally went into the back room and produced several more liters - crisis averted. We also bought a bunch of electrolyte drinks. The food was slim pickings, though. We ended up with four cans of tuna, a package of saltine crackers, and some cookies. At least it would be enough to get us to the next town.

We sat on a bench outside the little store, in the shade, drinking Gatorade and eating a pack of cookies.

Charco Largo was where the pavement ended. The road out of town was gravel, and still uphill. After another half hour of huffing and puffing, we finally reached the highest point for this leg of the trip - just over 9,100 ft (2,800 m). 

Once we crossed the top of the pass the road surface deteriorated rapidly. It was a very bumpy ride downhill. On the bright side, the dirt road was almost deserted. For the rest of the day we were passed by only one pickup truck. 

To our surprise, the barbed wire fences continued on both sides of the road for the rest of the day. It was strange to see so much intense fencing on such a long stretch of road in the backcountry. After consideration, we reached the conclusion that the fencing was probably intended to keep people and cattle out of La Michilía Biosphere Reserve, where the government has reintroduced wolves and bear. The authorities certainly would want to discourage poaching or conflicts with the endangered predators.

In the early afternoon we passed the Piedra Herrada Biological Research Station, which serves as the primary scientific and management facility for the biosphere reserve. It’s listed among the TransMexico Norte route materials as a place where you can get water. But there didn’t seem to be anyone around, so we were glad we had been able to get all of the water we needed back in the town.

Just past the entrance to the biological station we saw a sign about the reintroduction of Mexican Wolves in the biosphere reserve. Looking around, we noticed a chain-link fence not far down the road. It appeared to be the outer perimeter of an enclosure, probably for the wolves that were part of the reintroduction program.

We decided to walk over to the enclosure, which was set back from the main road, in the forest. Even though we didn’t expect the photos to be that interesting, we wanted to have some shots to help us remember the place. As we walked toward the enclosure, we joked that it would be too much to hope for that there might actually be some wolves inside.

But as we got close, a pretty big animal dashed away from us into the forest. It then circled back towards us to have a look. To our delight, there were actually two wolves inside the enclosure. They were quite intrigued by the sight of us, and seemed timid but curious. For several minutes we watched as they ran to different parts of the enclosure, stopping periodically to stare at us. It was exciting to see, and we were very glad we had taken the time to check it out.

After a few minutes of savoring this very special encounter, we decided it was best to leave so as not to disturb the wolves any more.

We cycled for another 45 minutes, until we saw a disused side rode with an unlocked gate. There was a sign indicating that the land was part of an ejido (community lands managed by locals) and that hunting was permitted. We figured it would be okay to go in and camp, since ejidos usually don’t mind leave-no-trace camping. Once inside the gate, we rode pretty far back, away from the main road. Then we took an animal trail to a lovely spot hidden among the trees. After dinner, our campsite was visited by a family of bridled titmice, clearly surprised to see us in their territory. We enjoyed their company.

Return to the High Plains

As we were packing up the next morning, PedalingGal noticed that the hook that holds the bottom of one of her front panniers to the bike rack was missing. This was the second one to break - the other had ripped off somewhere along the Baja Divide bikepacking route. It was a big headache because we had to scrounge for another Velcro strap to hold her pannier securely in place. The problem was that we didn’t have any more straps that were just the right size. She ended up using a smaller one that barely wrapped around the bar on her bike rack. She would have to keep an eye on it, in case the Velcro didn’t hold. After nearly a year on the road, including some very rough terrain, our gear is starting to show wear and tear.

The ride to the town of Súchil began with a series of long downhills on rough gravel. In less than an hour, we breezed past the small village of San Juan de Michis (pop. 309). By that time we had descended out of the forested mountains, and were back in the juniper and acacia-dotted savannas of the foothills. Along the way we admired some amazing stone walls that were intricately crafted, apparently without any mortar. At least one of the walls was several miles long. We hadn’t seen anything else like them - especially in terms of the amount of effort it must have taken to build them - in all our other travels through North America.

We reached the next village, San Miguel de la Michilía (pop. 700), well before noon and decided to cycle into town for a quick break. We were delighted to find that the little store in town was very well stocked, with lots of drinks and snacks to choose from. But what really caught our attention was that the main road through town, which passed right in front of the store, was being re-paved in concrete. And it looked like most of the town’s male citizens were chipping in to help build the road. This struck us as a great way to provide some extra income to the folks who lived there, as well as giving them a stake in maintaining the road over the long term.

As we sat outside the tienda eating chips and guzzling drinks, one of the guys from the road crew came over to speak with us. We got the feeling that the other guys prodded him to come over and find out more about the strange travelers who had just rolled into town. The guy was very friendly, asking where we were from, and showing astonishment when we said we had cycled all the way from Alaska. After he said goodbye and went back to the crew, we could hear them talking about us - those crazy Americans!

Of course, San Miguel de la Michilía was located at the foot of a pretty big mountain ridge which we then had to cycle over. It was by far the longest climb of the day. Fortunately it wasn’t so steep, so we were able to ride all the way up even on the sometimes crappy gravel. But by that time it was scorchingly hot, and there was practically no shade. The fact that we had fully rehydrated in town helped a lot. Even so, we stopped often in the meager shade of the mesquite bushes to try and keep from overheating too much. At the top of the pass there was a parking area for cars with an overlook that had a gorgeous view back down the valley.

From the top of the ridge we had a mostly downhill ride into Súchil (pop. 4,070). We zipped along, arriving in town in the early afternoon.

At only 300 pesos per night (appx. US$17), we didn’t have high expectations for the town’s hotel. Other hotels we had recently stayed in for about the same price had been pretty run down. So we were very pleasantly surprised when the Hotel Sinai turned out to be a very nice place to stay. The rooms had screens on the windows and ceiling fans, allowing for pretty good airflow at night. The showers were big, with plenty of hot water, soap, and super clean towels. We thoroughly enjoyed cleaning up from several days out on the dusty trail.

Then we headed into town to look for food and drinks. When we finally found an open store, we realized that we were only a block away from a restaurant that had been recommended by the hotel manager. We decided to go over and inquire about their hours.

It was a good thing we did. They would close at 6pm, and it was already late afternoon. So after taking a few minutes to polish off a couple of the drinks we had just bought, we headed back to the restaurant for an early dinner. The portions were huge, and delicious. After the meal the waitress brought us a small plate of chocolate fudge that looked home made. That was very yummy, too.

For most of the next day we followed a road that hugged the edge of an escarpment. The land to our right fell away gently into a broad, agricultural river valley. While to our left, sand-colored hills marched towards distant mountains. The road was paved, but in this case that didn’t mean it was smooth. The surface varied wildly throughout the day, from smooth, new asphalt to badly deteriorated chunks of road covered with deep, massive potholes.

Toward the end of the day we crossed the low mountains which surround the Pueblo Mágico of Sombrerete. Rugged bluffs and cliffs encroached on the road, and the hills slowed us down in the afternoon heat.

The Magic of Silver and Gold

The town of Sombrerete was founded in 1555, specifically for the purpose of searching for gold and silver to enrich the Spanish empire. The founders were lucky, discovering and developing numerous mines that were some of the most productive sources of ore in the region - enriching several families that were later granted noble status by the crown. But despite its prosperity, Sombrerete has remained deeply rooted in tradition. It is considered one of the most pious municipalities in Mexico, with many religious festivals observed throughout the year and a very high density of monumental churches. 

This embrace of tradition has also helped the town retain much of its colonial character, especially in the historic center. The street layout remains virtually unchanged from early colonial times, mostly paved with cobblestone. Many buildings have their original (or restored) facades. Sidewalks around the main plazas are shaded by elegant colonnades. This is the magic that earned Sombrerete its designation as one of Mexico’s Pueblos Mágicos.

Each morning during our layover we went for a walk on the quiet, cobblestoned streets. 

The charming, historic center of Sombrerete is surrounded by a vibrant town that bustles with activity in the afternoons and evenings. This place is not a museum. In contrast, it feels very “lived in.” We even detected a sly sense of humor in the signs for businesses around town - more than we had noticed elsewhere.

One of the most popular street foods in Mexico is elotes - sweet corn on the cob (or in a cup) slathered with mayonnaise, then sprinkled with shredded cheese, chili powder, and/or doused in hot sauce. Somehow we’d managed to travel for more than four months in Mexico without trying this popular snack. But in Sombrerete, Mennonite farmers set up elote stands every day, right near where we were staying. The long lines of folks waiting to buy corn-on-a-stick from the roadside stalls finally wore us down, and we decided to give it a try.

As expected, the elotes were delicious. We even went back for seconds. Unfortunately, after that we both promptly got sick with a nasty stomach bug, causing us to delay our departure from Sombrerete for a day. Tough luck. We probably won’t be sampling the roadside elotes again for a while.

Playing It Safe

Sombrerete lies just inside the western border of the Mexican state of Zacatecas. From there, the TransMexico Norte route crosses through beautiful rural countryside on its way to the city of Zacatecas - passing right through the center of the state. But there’s a problem. Since roughly 2020, cartel violence in this part of Mexico has skyrocketed. Security and government officials there are murdered with alarming frequency. As recently as April 2023 gunfights had broken out in central Zacatecas as two of the country’s most notorious cartels battled for supremacy in the state.  

Like anywhere in the world, criminal violence is sporadic and hard for ordinary folks to predict. We thought long and hard about whether we should cycle from Sombrerete to Zacatecas. The USA State department says the area should be avoided, and the British Embassy agrees. Other international cyclists had skipped this section by taking a bus. But in the end, we were most persuaded by the advice of a local cyclist who lives in the area. He indicated that the situation had improved but was still not really safe. We decided to take a bus for just over 100 miles to Zacatecas and skip the most dangerous area.

There are quite a few buses that go from Sombrerete to Zacatecas each day. A lady who works for one of the bus companies told us that the best time to travel would be in the afternoon, because the buses are much more crowded in the morning. As a result, we were able to spend a leisurely morning repacking our stuff for the bus trip. 

Around noon we headed over to the bus station. Unfortunately, we had not looked at the bus schedule in advance because there seemed to be plenty of buses. But when we got to the station we learned that we had just missed a bus, and we would be spending a little over two hours waiting for the next one. The thought that we could have spent another hour in the cool, comfortable hotel instead of the stuffy, noisy, uncomfortable bus station did not make us happy. But there was nothing to do about it now. We bought our tickets and waited.

When the bus finally arrived we were delighted to see that its luggage compartments were nearly empty. We were able to have a whole luggage compartment dedicated to storing our bikes. There was some consternation when the luggage handler for the bus company insisted on loading the bikes in a different configuration than PedalingGuy would have liked - which would make the bikes a lot harder to unload on the other end. But at least the bikes were secure and safe.

It ended up being a pleasant bus ride on a relatively straight, not too hilly highway. We arrived in Zacatecas at 5:30pm, not much worse for wear. The hardest part of the trip came when it was time to unload the bikes. No one assisted PedalingGuy as he struggled to get the bikes out of the luggage compartment (PedalingGal was watching over our other luggage). It was dirty, exhausting work, so we rested on a bench afterwards before tackling the short, 2-mile ride into the city.

And what a ride it was. There was a steep downhill, followed by a really steep ascent all within the first mile.

Right after that we ascended onto a bridge that crossed over some railroad tracks. PedalingGal was already breathing hard from the steep climb. And when she stopped to rest at the crest of the bridge she started to cough uncontrollably. Cars and trucks emitting plumes of black smoke zoomed by close on our right. And, just our luck, a train passed underneath the bridge while we were on it - belching dark fumes as well. Unable to breathe, she stood on the bridge coughing, blowing her nose, and drinking the last of her water in an attempt to recover. It was only when PedalingGuy came back to urge her on that PedalingGal was able to drag herself the rest of the way across the bridge and ride into town. Slowly, the coughing subsided as we got away from what PedalingGuy called the “death road” of smog.

The volume of both pedestrian and car traffic in the city of Zacatecas was astonishing. The streets were clogged with vehicles and the sidewalks were packed with people. There were so many people around that we wondered if there was some kind of holiday (apparently there was not). That made getting through the last half mile to the hotel a stressful endeavor. The narrow, colonial era streets, built for horses, just couldn’t accommodate so many people and cars. In the end, we had to get off our bikes and walk them over the last few blocks.

When we finally made it to the hotel, it was an oasis of calm. It was housed in a colonial era mansion with walls that were made from stone that was several feet thick, blocking all of the noise from the busy streets outside. Our room was large, with plenty of space for our bikes and gear. It was nearly perfect.

After dinner we strolled over towards the city’s main cathedral. That’s when we started to really appreciate the vibrancy of the city of Zacatecas. The cathedral was spectacular. It was one of the most huge and ornately decorated churches we had seen in Mexico - and we’d seen quite a few at this point. It also was evocatively lit, creating a majestic backdrop to the city’s historic center. Considered one of the best-preserved examples of baroque ornamentation, the cathedral’s facade forms an enormous, intricately carved masterpiece that is overwhelming in its detail.

The area around the cathedral was humming with activity. Right next door was the state government palace, lit with floodlights in the colors of the Mexican flag. For quite a while we walked along the city’s streets, enjoying the evening ambiance.

As is our custom, we spent our mornings taking long walks throughout the city. Along the way we discovered a grand and graceful aqueduct that seemed like something you would see in Rome, Italy, rather than North America. There were also other churches built of pink stone, and busy markets packed with vendors selling everything from electronics and clothes to every type of food imaginable.

A particular highlight was our walk up onto the Cerro de la Bufa, a prominent and quite high bluff on the edge of town. The path up the hill was lined with the stations of the cross, encouraging the devout to reflect on Jesus’s final days. And at the top, towering, heroic statues commemorated some of Mexico’s famous historical figures. The views along the pathway and from the top of the 800 ft high summit were spectacular, with the city and its picturesque churches spread out below.

Interestingly, even though Zacatecas was clearly a popular tourist destination (lots of people on the street looked like they were on holiday), we did not encounter anyone speaking English. All of the vacationers appeared to be from other parts of Mexico. With hardly any guests from the USA, Canada or Europe, Zacatecas seems like one of Mexico’s best kept secrets.

After spending several days in Zacatecas, we both agreed that it was one of our favorite cities in Mexico. The streets were just so full of life, with a timeless beauty that was at once historically interesting and conveniently modern. Among the cities we would happily return to someday, the city of Zacatecas is near the top.

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