Surprise ending, the high and low of it - Akumal, Quintana Roo, Mexico to Miami, FL 1/15/13 to 1/18/13

Dear Friends,

 

I had some sense I was in for a big surprise at the end.  But I hadn't a clue and stopped projecting outcomes.  Afterall, to be a surprise is to be unpredictable. 

 

I got on the road north bound from Akumal early enough to beat the heat of the day into Playa del Carmen roughly 20 miles up the road.  Easy, fast going on a flat wide shoulder, ear plugs jammed in to deaden the worsts of the noise from speeding traffic.  This two lane divided highway along the Riviera Maya is one busy thoroughfare but not too bad for biking with ample shoulders, in most places.  Still, you need to pay attention.

 

I had arranged to meet a friend and stay the night with him in Playa.  Fine it seemed, I would call him, never mind I had no cell phone,  from our prearranged rendezvous point at an OXXO mini-mart near where he lived.   I get there about noon after asking directions multiple time,.   Local information can be problamatical.   In general the trend was north of where I asked although one woman pointed me back in the direction I had come.  On top of that there was more than one OXXO store along the route. 

 

I finally locate the place where I'm supposed to rendezvous with no cell phone and no time left on my Ladatel calling card.  I ask several folks if they would make a cell call for me.  They kindly oblige.  But I get no answer.  I know my friend works irregularly as a guide and may have gotten a call for work.  I ask again and make a call to his house.  No answer.  I leave a message.  I decide to wait, eat a boiled egg, a tangerine and tortillas with a peanut butter spread and honey.  Time passes.  I'm in no hurry.  I sit next to Mario.  He's from Chiapas and looking for chamo (local expression) he tells me..  He makes a call for me but nada.  Nada on work for him also.  He's been here a week and rented a place, adequate for a $100 a month.  The afternoons slips away.  By 3:00 I decide to go to my friend's house and wait there.  I have the address and ask directions.  Pretty straight forward except I don't see the house numbers at first.  They're on a stone slab out front.  The place turned out to be in a row of interconnected small condos.   I park my bike in the shade of a nearby overhang, spread out my tarp and lie down, peso coins fall out of my pockets onto the side walk.  Later I ask a resident to make a call for me but still no answer.  No one shows up.  I decide at this point I need to leave by 1630  to reach Puerto Morelos before dark or camp short or there.   From PM it's under 10 miles to the airport, a piece-of-cake.   I stayed at Renatto's place in PM when I first arrived and left a note saying I would try to stop by later.  I  first met him after the People's Climate Summit in 2010.  He's a sculptor.

 

I stay in Playa beyond my leaving time.  The curtain falls at 18:00.  I get to the main highway, fortunately I'm already on the north side of town.  A passing sign says 18 miles to Puerto Morelos.  No way I can make it before dark now.   I recall stopping for lunch on the way south at a place that was a possible camp for the night.  It was a chained driveway with a way around, no house nearby.   I don't recall exactly where it is but keep an eye out.   Is it the place I'm meant to camp, I wonder?  I usually get off the road and camp before dark for piece of mind and safety. 

 

 

I don't get far and I see the place I'm looking for on the opposite side of the highway.  I cross, park my bike and walk back a ways looking for a camp site.  There's still some daylight left..  Nothing leaps out at me and says YES,  It's brushy and hard ground to stake in.  I walk back to my bike, another 15 minutes or so of daylight gone.   I say to hell with it.  I'm going to Puerto Morelos and Renatto's place knowing I'll have to bike in the dark.  I feel easy about it, this is not a lonely stretch of road in the middle of nowhere.  People are still waiting at road side for a bus or mini-van to take them home.  There's a wide shoulder.   

 

Most of this stretch of road to PM is Luxury Hotel alley.  Near dark the overhead street lights down the median strip pop on.  How about that for help!.  I hadn't noticed them before.   My helmet and bike have reflective tape.  I set my handle bar light to flash.   I stay well right except to pass the occasional stopped vehicle.  It's cool and pleasant after sunset except for the traffic.   Hotel alley comes to an ends and with it my overhead lighting.  I'm only five miles or so out of PM at this point, another half hour and I'm there.

 

I get to PM about 8:00,  hungry and thirsty.  A beer then bike doesn't work, I've tried that already.  I buy a Fanta in a can hoping it will get recycled rather than the ubiquitous plastic bottle.   A nearby street vendor has tamales for sale.  Do I want one with mole, a black sauce or green she asks.  I try green..  It comes wrapped in a banana leaf then corn husk.  It's good, with a little chicken inside.  She puts it on a Styrofoam plate with plastic fork.  Where's that going to end up?  No need to ask, it's unlikely to get recycled and may end up dumped off the road somewhere.  I don't feel good about it.  Why are we compelled to make choices that "suck (undesirable)?"   We've allowed a monster to be created by companies with products that won't biodegrade into harmless substances or get appropriately recycled?  Another soap box tirade but we can't keep doing this to ourselves with sucky things like this.  Plastic crap litters the planet everywhere.

 

Renatto's place is a mile or so west on the outskirts of this small town.  There's street lighting but some dark spots in between lights.  I turn my light on steady. There's a short strech of unpaved potholes to dodge in the dark nearing his place.  He's created a charming and enchanting mixture of garden and sculpture in the midst of low forest cleared of under brush.  Near his house is a cenote but its waters are not clear like some I've visited.   Small black fishes live in it like the others.  A large plaster sculpture of a brown skinned warrior holding what looks like a green serpent over his shoulder sits in the drive, mostly finished now.  It was being reworked when I was here nearly a month earlier.   In a nearby building a group is singing.  Harry, who works for Renatto, greets me in the dark.  He remembers me and says welcome.  He asks if I'm thirsty and brings me some water.  We both stand outside and look in on a small group of mostly women.  Renatto is sitting on floor mats singing with the rest.  Harry tells me they're getting ready for a mas cal or sweat lodge ceremony.  The mas cal he tells me is to honor these volunteers helping Renatto.  

 

To my great surprise I recognize the leader, it's Isabel.  I remember her face but not her name.  I have to ask.  She had a deeper tan before so I was not sure at first.  But she comes out briefly and I have to ask.  The last time we met was equally unexpected.   It was at Gabriel's place after the People's Climate Summit.   I had lost track of the date until I asked Gabriel.  It was 12/21/10.   He then  told me a group from PCS was coming later that day for a mas cal celebration he was leading. I was invited to join.  Isabel was with them.  I recognized some of the others as well.  She's an attractive women with a strong, beautiful voice that connects people with their heart energy through singing and  graceful prayers of blessing and gratitude. A very warm and unforgettable person.  I'm blown away,  reconnection under remarkably similar circumstances on my last day in Mexico.  We are deeply connected if we only knew it.  Both she and later Renatto ask if I would come to the mas cal ceremony.  I say yes and think I wouldn't miss it for anything.  Harry points to a blazing fire on the other side of the cenote heating rocks for the mas cal. 

 

I set up my tent before the singing ends, put my swimming trunks on under my pants and head for the fire.  Several are standing around waiting for others to join.  The mosquitoes chew on us.  I meet Augustine from Whistler, BC, one of the volunteers.  He's set up a hammock near where I pitched my tent.  After a wait of some time we stand in a line to enter.   Sheila tells me I need to move back one place so it's woman, man, woman, I assume to balance the energy but I don't really know.  Maria holds a smoking cup of copal, a sacred resin of the Maya.  She passes the smoke over outstretched arms and legs in a ritual cleansing, first in front then in back before each person enters.  We crawl in and sit on banana leaves placed around a center fire pit under a low dome roof.    Isabel crouches near the oval exit, Maria opposite to my right.  I'm in the back center looking out on  the fire.  Isabel asks for seven rocks to enter to begin.  Jose takes them from the fire, dusts off the ashes and carefully passes the pitch fork one rock at a time to Isabel who lets them drop into the pit.  They are welcomed as abuelos or ancestors.  Someone sprinkles a powder on the rocks that sparkles like twinkling stars each time they settle in the pit.   

 

Some carbon gets in and it turns smoky..  The wood cap on the ceiling is opened and shut to let the smoke out.  The air clears and Isabel asks for the rug over the puerta to be closed.  Hot steam rises from water she pours over the abuelos.  She asks for each one in turn starting with Maria to say a prayer.  Afterward she asks for anyone to sing who has a short song.   We do this four times or puertas honoring the four ordinal points of the compass representing earth, air, fire and water.  Each time the puerta opens more abuelos enter until none remain in the fire.  It gets very hot.  During one closing Renatto plays the didgeridoo accompanied by drums and rattles, a vibration that resonates and fits the time and circumstance.  An ancient instrument of an ancient people.  One woman leaves before the fourth puerta.  I'm tempted but stay.  Isabel asks how I'm doing.  I say tired from the riding and mas cal.  The heat is intense between puertas.   By the fourth puerta I'm lying on my side on the leaves, others are doing the same where the air is marginally cooler.  Isabel flings water inside the darkened space to give a little cooling but it's fleeting.  It's a sacred ceremony of healing and purification not a sauna. 

 

I'm ready to leave when Isabel calls for the last puerta and we crawl out.  I can barely stand, feeling weak and dizzy.  I grab onto a nearby tree for support.  I close my eyes and see a circle of blue light with a brown finger like object in the center.  I've never seen it before. What's that all about?   I reach for nearby slices of pineapple still reeling.  They taste soooo good,  a banana follows.   What really begins to set me aright is rinsing with cool water dipped from a bucket.  The fire has turned to a bed of coals.  I don't know what time it is but it's late.  The next morning I ask Jose what time we quit.   He says about midnight.  I change back into cloths I laid outside and head for my tent.  I'm tired but at the same time wowed by the intensity of the experience.  What a way to exit Mexico,  some of the best for last.

 

The next morning I'm off to the airport by 0800 and there before 10:00.  I make a mistake thinking my flight is earlier and arrive with time to spare.  I make a couple of loops  around the airport until I find the right terminal.  Perhaps still a bit out of it from the mas cal.  I park my bike outside Terminal 3, close to the cart rack so I don't have to carry my bags inside.  I start disassembling my bike.  The Mexican Federal Police stop to hassle me, an odd ball tourist on a bicycle.  I hand over my passport and immigration card neither of which you want to lose.  Questions follow.  They find nothing and leave me in peace.

 

After that check in and wait.  At check in I notice the back pack straps on my bike bag are missing, "ripped off, stolen."  I accept what is but I'm not a happy camper.   No one sits in the tail section seats next to me after lift off.   I lie down, miss the meager beverage service,  then it's time to land.  The lines to clear immigration and customs are long.  We landed before 7:00 but I don't get on the metrorail to Lisa and Richard's place until nearly nine.  I have a moment of panic when I only get his voice mail.   But he gets back to me and we coordinate a pick up.  Relief,  I was expected. 

 

So that would appear to be the end of it.  But near as I can figure, a load of unwelcome hungry hitch hikers climbed aboard my pants and socks at the mas cal. It really doesn't matter where.   In considerable numbers they entombed themselves in my legs and feet as little red zits that itched like hell.  In partially successful stoic fashion I try to be present with the itch.  Does it help, a little?  I know the intellectual part.   What you resist persists.  These are hard lessons.  On other tropical sojourns I've had similar massive infestations around the belt line and private parts, thoroughly miserable.  Maybe a little less so this time, some progress.  Resistance is futile.  That's my story - the high and low of it.   

 

On Monday, the 16th back to Alaska and more challenges.  I'm ready.  There's more to come.

 

Don - Peace Rider 

 

 

Peace Rider on the Road Kantunilkin to Akumal 1/8/13 to 1/13/13

Dear Friends,

I was beat heading out of Kantunilkin mid-afternoon on the 8th after being on the road without a break from the 2nd.  I had decided at this point to return back through Tulum and see Gabriel again.  I bought a quartz crystal in Chichen to give him for the Mayan temple he's building.    But something had to give,  to go north and then a long way south was not going to work for the time and distance remaining.  I was thinking of doing some of it by bus, which would help.  It became clear I wasn't going to make Chiquila on the north coast in the remaining light of day and would have to overnight somewhere.   All this was rattling around in my head outbound.  And this old body was saying give me a break.

So as usual with the sun low on the horizon I began asking the question, where are we going to camp tonight?  I'm trying to do better at feeling my way to a place.  Up ahead in the distance on this very long straight stretch I see a large white vehicle coming at me, maybe a bus.  It feels like I should look in that vicinity if I can figure out where that is.  In a short while I'm at the place where I estimate I first saw the bus.  There are some cleared places along the road for new houses but nothing leaps out at me and says yes.  We are  always free to choose a lesser experience or a greater one.  I came to the conclusion awhile ago I'd rather be wrong even if I think I'm projecting something rather than not honor what I think I'm hearing and feeling.  So I pass up a few places which would have worked.  Then I see on my right side a small palapa raised above ground on wood posts.  That's different, I thought.  Most structures I'd been seeing were of concrete block.  There was a nice cleared area  around the place with a car parked in front.  Hmm, feels right, so I pull in.  It's a station wagon, a Ford Equinox I think,  with an Australia sticker on the hatchback trunk.  I call out hola!, no response, walk around back a ways and again, hola!  A man lying in a hammock responds and gets up.

And that was how I met Pepe a nickname for Jose he later tells me.  I ask if | can put my tent on his property for the night.  Si, no problem he responds.  My Spanish has improved so I'm catching most of the conversation.  There was a kind of coarse grass for a lawn and the alarm bells should have been going off, beware the bichos, chiggers, or garapatas as Pepe calls them that lurk therein.  But they don't and I pitch my tent in the grass, later to move it.  It doesn't help.  The sons of bichos found me. 

Jose as it turns out has an ecotourism business <www.elchorchal.com>.   He and his family own some of the last original forest near Solferino 2km north.   He tells me he's helping a lady build a tree house and asks if I want to see it in the morning.  Sure I say.  Others, including a Mexican biologist and Norwegian man with Greenpeace, have all bought small pieces of original forest here to insure minimal development.  To my question the next day if I might stay a bit longer to rest he says yes, welcome.  He gives me the run of the place which also has a separate shower and toilet, yahoo!  I forget about going to Hol Box, finding this place was where I needed to be.  We had similar interests and my body screamed rest.  This was the place.  

Turns out Pepe had taken a short course in Cuba on Agroforestry.  I learned a lot on a tour of his land the next day.  He showed me rows of Caoba trees he'd planted in the forest, along with bamboo of two different kinds in more open places.   Caoba and cedar are two desirable woods he tells me but the former grows faster, especially if supplemental water can be added.  One land owner has done just that connecting trees to a well with a system of interconnected plastic piping.  Pepe is trying to show by example what is possible for others to do rather than continue the cycle of burning and use of chemicals to perpetuate monocultures.  He also had a couple of fish tanks behind his house raising a spotted predatory fish, whose name escapes me, as an ornamental and for food.  Some were at least five pounds but stayed mostly hidden under the floating water hyacinth.  

I asked him if he was interested in raising and helping restore the native Melipona bees which are rare now.  It produces superior quality honey with medicinal properties that bring very high prices.  He was, but less so for the money than for the rehabilitation of the species.  This was the bee and honey Mayan people used to cultivate.  It was a part of their culture.   I told him I would get back to him with more information from a contact I had in Tulum.  

I told Pepe I should leave the 11th and asked about taking the bus south.  But he offered to give me a ride part way.  That was fine it would get me close enough to make Tulum in a days bike ride.  If we got up early I could get on the road while it was still cool he suggested.  So that's what we did.  I was ready.  The tropical forest is bug heaven and I an easy meal ticket.   

Well,  we managed to get away before sunrise but my green scarf didn't make the trip.  I think it blew off a line after drying the day before.   Of course I didn't notice its disappearance until after Pepe dropped me off, confirmed by a futile search of my bags.   I really needed a scarf to keep my neck and face from getting fried even with sunblock.  

Pepe dropped me at a road junction leading to the ruins at Coba 45 km to the southeast.  As it turned out,  the same distance to Tulum, about 55 miles in all plus another five to Gabriel's place.  Doable over this mostly flat terrain.   I was perhaps 30 minutes into it staying in the shade on the left side.  There wasn't much traffic.  Up ahead I see something lying on the right side.  More often it's road kill but when I pull abreast it's a piece of cloth.  I stop for a closer look.  It's a bandana.  Well, how about that, manna from Heaven!  But it reeks of some kind of petroleum residue.  It's useless for the moment it but I keep it..  The nearest place I could get it washed I'm thinking is Tulum, not much help there.  Time and a few more kilometers pass.  Speed bumps sanely slow car traffic through communities and some even bicycles depending on the design.  This was the case in Pak Naw as I approached it.  It was a very small Mayan pueblo but on my way through I notice a black plastic tube sticking out of the ground spurting water.  Very not usual.  No one's around to ask if I can use it.   Building blocks are piled in front of nearby one story building indicate new construction in progress.  I wait awhile to see if anyone shows up but nobody does.  I lean my bike against a pole, get out the soap and wash the bandanna three or four times and get most of the smell out.  It's usable.  I also soak my shirt.  I'm away again with air conditioning. YO, thank you Universe! 

It's worth repeating, the Universe is here to support you when you align with universal values and are giving of yourself for the greater good in some fashion.  What you focus on grows.  

I turn left at the junction to Tulum but make a quick stop beforehand at the Pemex station to re wet my shirt.  By two, I'm in Tulum heading for the Hotel Don Diego de la Selva to ask about Melipona bees.   Stephane, the French owner I'd met on my first visit, is trying to rescue and revive the culture of these bees. He remembered me.  He had several colonies in capped sections of hollow trunks, the traditional Maya way of cultivating Melipona.  He was in the process of transferring them to boxes.  They are easier to maintain and extract the honey from he tells me.  He was giving a course on their cultivation 2 February in Playa del Carmen.  I passed all this on to Pepe.

From there it was get a few more pesos from an ATM for food, and continue on to Muuchximbal, Gabriel's community.  The next day I was in Akumal by noon.  I stayed at De Rosa's,  Villa de Rosa shortly after I arrived.  An alternative and safe place to come if you're considering a Mexican vacation.  You can contact Nancy at <derosamex@hotmail.com> and also check out <www.saverivieramaya.org>.  She came here 27 years ago when there was very little development along this coast, exploring many of the underground caves and cenotes with her husband.  Now she and others are trying to halt some of the most destructive developments that have been proposed or approved but not yet built.  

Sixto Mazon and family were coming to Las Palmas, another Mayan community, near Muuchximbal on Saturday the 12th.  Gabriel said he'd pick me up on the way back from Cancun that morning.  So Saturday I joined a gathering of friends to honor the arrival of Sixto and Araselli's two month old son.  It was nice to see again these new friends.  Mariano, Gabriel's father, took me, the Sixto family and another couple on a tour of nearby cenotes or springs.  One was a spectacular and extensive underground system of interconnected caves on private land called Mystic River.  So amazingly beautiful and fragile these water carved sculptures.  

Mariano, at 80 doesn't look his age and is doing quite well,  We ate outside with among other notables Gobi, a spider monkey on a long sliding leash suspended between two trees.  From these he hung and swung and climbed using his long tail as a third arm.   A couple of young children got too close and using that prehensile tail grabbed hold of a leg and dragged them prompting a swift adult rescue.

The question of what comes next has been answered.  Fukuko, my wife, asked me to return to help with the house.  Her health remains an ongoing issue and concern.  So from the beach to snow, go with the flow, don't push the river, expect the unexpected.  I leave Cancun for Miami 16 January and Fairbanks not long thereafter.  

For me a wonderful and unforgettable culture experience among my new and very gracious Mayan hosts and other friends.  But in a fitting metaphor the light is increasing slowly in Fairbanks but with gathering speed as the days pass.  In similar fashion I sense building energy for change to take us all in a more positive and hopeful direction.  

As time and inspiration allow will continue with these writings.  Our work is not yet done and many challenges remain.  

Don Peace Rider

   

On the Road Tizimin to Kantunilkan 1/8/13 "Failing First Grade"

Dear Friends,

Arrived Kantunilkan earlier today and taking a break during the heat of the day before heading north to catch a ferry from Chichila to the island of Hol Box.  There are friends of a friend there that I hope to connect with.  Beyond, maybe bus south to Tulum.

I left Ciber Cafe Americano in Tizimin late in the day after the last posting.  Howard, eight years in Mexico from Texas, was very helpful with directions.  He suggested camping in the next town, Kil Kil and asking the commasario for permission.  I  arrived there and it didn't feel that comfortable, no privacy at all.  Continued, asked the usual question.  Rode past Estancia Retiro they were doing something with their cows.  Was this the place?  Turned around and asked Luis the in charge ranch hand if I could stay.  It was okay.  They were moving 30 head of cows gto Belice.  The ranch name means retreat.  It was.  Carlos was the other worker there I met.  Muggy and humid early then cooled off with clouds in the early AM accompanied by heavy dew.  The wind came up, the wind mill spun.  I filled water bottles and soaked my shirt for the air conditioning effect. 

But before all that just after I got up went to the nearest horse stall and just rested my arims on the top boards about head high.  These are smaller horse of Spanish descent.  The mare was a pretty roan color about my  height.  I didn't speak words but gave it my best horse whisperer murmurings.  And she came right up to my face with those big soft nostrils and smelled as I continued with the sweet nothings watching her ears.  Then she did the most unexpected thing and rested her head on my shoulder and left it there for a time.  It would seem communication was made on another level - love - just by being present with that energy.  Way cool!

Well, you should know  when I returned to the ranch late the following day after a foray north to Rio Largatos and Las Coloradas she was away  to the fiesta in Tizimin.  The next AM the lose stallion was hanging around outside her stall with sex on his mind.  She remembered me but with some disinterest.  Go figure!

The first day north I made it to a point short of Las Coloradas on the edge of huge commercial marine salt evaporating ponds.  The wind was blowing hard and salt foam was crossing the pond dike in places.  I found the largest bush to hunker down behind and pitch a tent.  It was dense vegetation over sand.  In the fading light I'm fixing dinner with my bike bag for a wind break.  Eeek,  I saw then a black scorpion crawling on the bag.  Where did that come from?  I managed to flick it off but checked all my things thereafter for its relatives. 

One of the most unique places I visited on my way to LC was Peten Tucha.  Here, subterranean water comes to the surface at a cenote pouring out in two places into the mangroves that form a part of Biosphere Rio Laguarto.  A sign there said no swimming, crocodiles.  I didn´t see any but didn't go swimming either.  I learned there are four species of mangrove, red, black, white and one other not remembered.  Some of these at least grew around PT. 

The maybe plan was to try and reach Cuyo by beach road from LC but the pavement ended there and sand began thereafter.  My skinny tired bike was unsuitable.  I gave up the idea after talking to local fishermen.  One was a Frenchman that spoke some English.  He gave me some bottled water but it tasted funny.  Water here is precious and I kept it for a time.

I have made a determined effort to not put any more plastic in circulation by buying bottled water.  Luis at the ranch gave me one and I needed an extra liter.  The other I brought with me.  It was a discard by the roadside in Montana, as I recall.  Individual choices we make matter.  The same with plastic bags from a store but its not easy. We've conditioned to plastic bags that everywhere here are used to hold purchased goods.   This is a monster we've yet to collectively tame.  You almost get used to seeing the roadside littered with plastic basura, much of it with the Coca Cola label.   Why?  This is clearly intolerable.  We've allowed our Mother Earth to be contaminated with all kinds of trashy things bad for all health and her long term welfare and this is one of them.  Off the soap box!

My water tasted bad.  I wanted to replace it as I headed downwind and south in a few clicks out of LC.  I realize even traveling slow on a bike you can get sucked into seeing more places rather than enjoy the moments as they come.  Peten Tucha cames to mind again, fresh water, a potential bath in an outlet stream during the heat of the day.  Why not!  It was a short bike in.  I climbed the Mirador,, a viewing tower you could never duplicate in the States.  My wet cloths dried in the breeze 41 wide steps later.  I read the sign carefully on the way in, motorbikes prohibited, nothing about bicycles.  I nearly forgot, seeing the red flamingos in the ponds around LC were worth the visit.  I even saw an old "friend" there from the north somewhere, a yellow legs.  And it sure looked like a line of tree swallows hanging out on a power line by one of the ponds.

Saturday night back at the ranch late.  Loud music from the fiesta in Tizimin some clicks away could be heard in the still night air.  It didn't abate until well into the AM.  Ear plugs only partially helped.  That night I sat on a bag of silage fed to the ranch bulls while Luis and Carlos were talking about work and pay and getting nowhere.  I got up to go to bed and felt a wet back side.  My hand came away sticky and reeking.  I washed most of it out.  But in the night air I could smell the silage pit upwind from my new camp site.  A skunk passed sometime in the night.  You don't forget that smell.   A male Tom cat was yeowling for a lover.  All-in-all not the soundest nigh'ts sleep I´ve had on the road.  But then I didn't ask if Retiro was to be my home for the night either but it was. 

Sunday I made my way into Tizimin with a crowd of fiesta goers.  I'm thinking this is thief time.  So I try to be present.  I go to a local shop to buy a belt.  I told Lorenzo I would return to buy one I liked if he got the right length for me.  He had and I bought one.  His handicapped daughter Marcila, I didn't hear her name cleary, helped him.  I asked if he would take less and he said I don't have a tourist price.  I liked that.  In the process one glance across the street at the beginning should have been a forwarning.  A man was sitting on the curb watching.  In getting money out of my pack I failed to put my bag of toilettries back.  With my back turned and distracted, not present, it got nicked.  I didn't notice until several stops later. 

Lessons not learned have a way of returning until we do.  Being both in one's mind and out of it - present and aware of the energy around us is a learning process not yet mastered by yo mismo.  Nothing significant gone, stuff.  In the past I'd have beaten myself up about it but no longer.  All of us are good enough, we make mistakes.  From diapers we're just taking our first  tentative steps into a new consciousness and way of being.  The first person to show love and compassion towards is yourself.  That one has taken me a long time as the chronometer clicked over to 70.

I looked in my bike mirror the other day to look at a nose bleed and was given quite as fright.  I looked my age.  But grateful to be doing what I´m doing.

From Tizimin to San Hippolito and camp behind the house of another Luis and Jose who kindly let me pitch my tent in a place where there was a bit of soil to hold my stakes in this rocky ground.  It was good to be off the road as traffic was intense returning to Cancun from Tizimin.

Time for me git.  It's three hours to Chichila on a bike maybe a little less and it's 3:00PM here.

Onward,

Don Peace Rider

PS Mistakes of editing or omission thoroughly my own.  By the way I met Juan Pablo, he was in Kil Kil and gave me good directions.  To that name I responded he´s in Rome, JP laughed.

Peace Rider back on the road, Ticimin, Yucatan 1/3/2013

Dear friends.

A brief update - maybe.  My guts have been in an uproar since leaving Casa Maya.  The inexpensive oil, of the artery clogging kind, the most likely culprit.  But I'm back on my own fare since last evening. 

I got out of Kaura late in the day, about 1500 which was good.  The heat of the day had abated and I was mostly in the shade of trees east bound.  I went through Valladolid, made a phone call and continued out of town.  As it happened the long way around and ended up backtracking to hit the road to Ticimin.  That´s where I am at, at the moment but going to hit the road again for Rio Lagarto on the north coast then back through here to Hol Box and island off the coast south back to Tulum and Gabriel´s place briefly then north up the Riviera Maya.  All of course, subject to change but the plan of the moment.

In fading light of day I asked my "guide" where are we camping tonight.  Two kilometer ahead on the right.  Never mind there were no kilometer sign posts save one I passed.  I looked at one place earlier before I asked but naw and the fence was locked.  On my right a low sometimes high wall enclosing private property.  I came to an open gate in the high wall.  Probably not 2km but what the hey, worth an ask of the attendant but again naw, nice try Don.

Hit the road to Ticimin, turned right, still nothing.  But in a short distance a nice looking, narrow gravel road to my right.  It led to a locked gate on the back side of the walled Estancia.  This is all second growth vegetation, dense and I saw no openings on my way in.  Still, it had the right feel to it.  Asked again is this the place?  Look for a trail on the right.  Riding slowly now, looking but nothing, nothing then, was that a trail?  I stopped, layed the bike down.  It was a trail someone had cut into the brush.  I walked in, maybe 50 meters.  Not much room to pitch a tent but enough by clearing a bit of brush.  In the fading light I missed the dumped plastic trash.  Vines and branches grabbed at my pedals on the way in but I was home for the night.  It began muggy but was cool by morning.

Some of you are and some of you are not in the same place spiritually/energetically.  That's okay, you may even disagree.   Diversity is the spice of life.  But the important thing to remember worth repeating is that what you focus on grows.  In this year of all years, focus on ending the "insanity."  I´m doing it.  But this isn´t a head trip.  This is heart stuff, the center of Love in your body is your heart, breath into it, breath it out into the world where ever you find yourself.  All positive energy of the highest vibration which Love is,  adds to the total.  We are a culture more into our heads than our hearts - this is bringing balance to both.

Follow where it takes you.  If out of you comfort zone do it.  Your dreams and passion are your song line, as a friend so beautifully put it.  This is heart stuff.   Tough Love is also a part of it but so is kindness and compassion.

We can´t all ride bicycles in the tropics.  Follow you passion and dreams, your greatest hope and not your worst fears.  Many of you are doing just that.   Thought motivated by Love, is the mega engine of creation.  We are human beings, not human doings.  Let your beingness motivate your doing.  There is too much do do we've left all over the plant creating a mess that will take centuries to undo.   

The Universe is here to support you.  From our fears we have created the world we live in.  From our hearts we can begin to heal ourselves and the planet.   We are on the verge of destroying Mother Earth, Pachamama.  Many of you know this.  There is so little time.  This is the year we turn the corner. 

Got to hit the road, p'alante (onward)!

Much love to you all,

Don - Peace Rider

 

More from the Yucatan 1/2/13

Hola Lois and other dear friends following on the blog.

I regret very much that I have not been able to respond to each and every one of you dear friends who have posted comments on my blog with words of encouragement and gratitude.  Your prayers and thoughts are what keep me on the road and out of harm´s way.

You will see on the blog now my responses to some emails I was able to answer and get a flavor for my journey, experiences and hopes for us all. 

I was in such a rush last evening to not be on the road after dark I forgot to wish all of you dear friends a Happy New Year but more - transformation in the year ahead.  

As it was, in the waning daylight two cars, headlights ablaze, came at me on a  two lane stretch out of town with no shoulders.  There was a place to step off, no careening into the brush.  It gets even more ¨exciting¨ when three try to do it at the same moment - that on an earlier journey in Central Am.  I very rarely bike after dark.

The family ran out of masa for corn tortillas after our New Years eve fiesta so Sixto and I and his young son Ismael drove into town last night and bought three kilos.  Sixto knew the lady and we waited a few minutes while the corn was ground into flour - not much fresher than that.  Without it we´d all have gone a bit hungrier.  I´ve grown quite fond of this family over my stay with them but it´s time to hit the road again.  If you want a real cultural experience apart from the tourist trail, learn a little Spanish and come.

Sixto is trying to preserve traditional Maya culture and is living in a very humble way.  When Sixto is working part of the family lives in town and he stays at Casa Maya.  I have my casita (tent) in the shade of some large trees nearby.  Araselli and the kids return in the early AM to fix breakfast for Sixto before he drives off to work at Chichen.  I´m included and accepted as part of the family.

Just as I was headed to my tent after dark last night I looked back to see smoke from an evening fire rising through the fronds of the Casa Maya;  the smoke back lit by a single bulb hanging outside the bano (toilet) - magical - the smoke not the toilet, although this one works rather well, the water gravity fed from an overhead tank. It´s a flush version rather than the dry composting one at Gabriel´s place.  Sixto is doing much better than many with a government job compared to others who have far less here. 

My sense of it at this point is that this is our year to make a major turn, to create a New Heaven and New Earth.  A rising tides floats all boats ready and able to journey forth in a new direction.  Are you ready to follow your dreams, passion and hopes with open minds and hearts or your worst fears.  Your thoughts and mine together are the energies of creation.  There are none higher than Love and Compassion because that is who you/we are.  That is the awakening, the remembering happening even midst the chaos.  The choice remains yours to give it all you´ve got or not.  We sink or swim together.  But most of all we need each other working as one to pull off a very last minute ¨Hail Mary.¨  I am in the game, join me - there really is nothing to lose.  

Don - Peace Rider

 

Responding to an email from J, New Years Day 1/1/13

And I in yours dear one.  It is indeed not so much the words but individual acts of love, kindness and compassion within our sphere of influence and giftedness that begins to transform not only ourselves but others in the process.  What I am learning in this journey is to move out of that head space and more into the heart projecting that out into the world as you are doing through acts of kindness and compassion.  

At the same time I have been wonderfully blessed to spend my birthday and New Years eve with a Mayan family.   I spent most of the day sitting quiet contentedly in the shade.  The family was away leaving me with the doves, puppies and three young chickens.  Overhead, white doves cooed from the rafters of an open thatched roof shed where they roost and nest.  One such is in a plastic tub of the right size, the cooing wonderfully resonating from within.  Another a crate suspended at an oblique angle from long pole side supports.  

I´m beginning to pick up more on the energy/vibration of others in this process of transformation.  I was at the Hotel Diego de la Selva in Tulum for a gathering my friend Gabriel was invited to.  We were listening to a presentation about the importance of a resident bee, melipona I think, to the Maya.  It does not hybridize with the African bee and its honey is of superior quality. But I also noticed a young Caucasian woman listening, dressed in white.  Something was different about her and I saw in minds eye a candle over her head, symbolically a bright light.  It was not long thereafter I was having a conversation with her  (Swedish) to discover that she too was on a similar spiritual path as you and I and many others.  So others of similar energy are drawn to us depending on where we place our focus.  Like energy attracts.

And your light also shines through brightly in your love for L with all the heart opening and pain that comes from that separation.

If this year was to be the last of your life how would you chose to spend your time and energy to help transform the consciousness of this planet?  That is now the question resonating within me.  The number 13 was sacred to the Maya it´s meaning love, in the Mayan language en lak ech (sp),  I am (Love) another you.  The year begins. 

And the burried turkey was just excellent, maybe the best I´ve eaten, so saboroso.  The waning moon rose late but the universe was wonderfully displayed, Venus directly overhead for a time.  At midnight children burned their muneca´s (dolls) made from old clothes stuffed with leave.  This, ushering out the old and in the new year.  A  tradition at least in this Yucatan community.   

We can create a self-fulling prophecy and a New Earth.  There are now enough of us resonating with a higher vibration/energy across the planet (love, compassion, courage, honesty, integrity and kindness) that it is possible if we focus on it.  What we focus on grows. 

Got to get to a blog posting.  I so appreciate your loving energy and thoughts. 

Much love to you and T my dear friends,

Don

On Mon, Dec 31, 2012 at 3:27 PM, Jean Aspen  wrote:

Beloved Don,

Thank you for your beautiful letter. Lucas would have loved your life and al;ways saw beauty in the poor people of Central America. 

Indeed, The biggest gift any of us have is to shine. I keep seeing that in all the great writings, that God flows through each as much as we are able and willing to open. The more we see God in EVERY person and event, the more flow happens through us. It takes each of us to transform the planet. I used to think I could make some BIG difference, but find now it is just one act of kindness at a time. Like grass growing, it is the soft, irresistible power of loving one another that transforms our world. Once you discover your part in it, it becomes more fun than anything else you can do with your own short ride on this beautiful earth. The more I see beauty in those about me, the more they find it in themselves. 

You are an inspiration to me. I am delighted to hear that you are seeing grass-roots awakening. I used to think I could use a megaphone to awaken people, and indeed, my books and our documentary do continue to bring news that reaching this larger audience is possible, but mostly it is the daily kindness  that matters. When I see the local drunk with the DTs at the hospital and recognize his or her beauty, seeing past appearances, I open a profound opportunity for that person to move beyond the agreement that he or she is "a waste of skin," as I have heard it phrased. That doing something is the only bit of value. 

I am so pleased to be able to share this vision with like-minded souls. Thank you for being in my life!

Love, Jeanie

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" -- Mary Oliver

On Dec 31, 2012, at 11:00 AM, Don Ross wrote:

Beloved Jeanie and Tom,

As the world as we know it winds to a close thanks again for sharing your life´s work with yo mismo.   From the place I´m at now I appreciate the courage it takes to step out of the mainstream and follow your heart, to use your creative talents and gifts for a greater good.  The more we expand in consciousness the more light that shines into our world.  And in the end it is not so much the words we say but the example we set that will bring about the necessary changes to create a heaven on earth instead of the one we have created.

While my sample size is very small I am connecting with people, women especially as I may have mentioned before that are awakening or remembering who and what they are in relation to All That Is.  In that there is hope.  Love, joy and peace are energies of the highest vibration which no other can overcome.  The more of it we put into the world the more of it that manifests until wallah, we have created something different, a nonviolent world at peace. 

If there is a Second Coming it is perhaps not the coming of one individual but rather a rising of this inner light within each of us that comes into the world committed to a higher good each according to his or her talents, guided by Love.  And by example inspiring others to also change  In this creative tapestry all threads are important.  Yours must be green, coming from the heart.  

So good on you for being part of the rising tide.  Some thoughts rattling around wanting an exit path even as biting things have their way with this succulent flesh.  

I´m enjoying my multicultural experience in Kaua, Yucatan, a small rural Mayan community west of Cancun.  This gracious Mayan family took me in and has fed me out of their limited resources.  Chickens and dogs run in and out the open doors, eating and defecating from the earthen floor but encouraged to stay out with a fly swatter.  Sometimes their treatment is rough.  One older dog has learned to be wary of humans.  You can see it on its sad face. 

Sixto´s younger wife just had her third child, this one by caesarian section, so far no infection but wears a band around her large mid section.  She´s not supposed to lift heavy things but the work of caring for and feeding her children makes this nearly impossible.  Still she has said to me she loves what she does, the hard work and caring for her children which both clearly adore.   She nurses her child openly without a second thought in front of a stranger which is the natural thing to do.  They both lie in their hammock, usually not together with baby on chest or at their side while rocking back and forth by pulling on a rope tied to a rafter.  They had a fan blowing air towards the hammock until the cheap plastic hub shattered.  Smoke from an open fire set between three large rocks has blackened the underside of the thatched roof and rafters.  A metal grate rests on the three rocks to support pots or a flat metal pan to cook tortillas.  This home is built more the way a traditional one which was the intent.  The vertical log walls are held in place by vines as is every other support.  There are spaces between each pole to allow fresh air to enter.

On this journey I chose to not bring a camera for the distraction it creates preferring instead to continue with a practice of just being present in the moment.  And sometimes this comes easier than others. 

But not all is well here either as it is in many places.  Plastic basura litters the landscape here and at roadside.  Sixto took a bag of plastic crap into the jungle to dispose of it.  Some of it gets burned.  I have seen this many times in my travels.  We have allowed this to happen without requiring that if something stands a chance of being disposed of at roadside or whereever it should be biodegradable.  Ultimately,  until each of us takes responsibility for all of the messes we´ve created, not much will change except the hand wringing and rush to judgment. 

He also said to me that the people feel they are slaves to a government corrupted by love of power and money.  Sounds familiar doesn´t it.  A civil revolution is possible here he said.  Gabriel his nephew expressed a similar sentiment, saying that the patience of the people is not endless. 

Still, I remain hopeful of a turning tide and choose to focus my energies on a revolution of consciousness guided by the way of peace which is Love.

Tomorrow it´s back on the bicycle and head for the north coast then maybe back south again through Tulum, flying back to Miami on the 16th. 

And in that I remain perfect in my imperfection sending you much love and abrazos as we close out the old and ring in the new. 

Don


PS It´s roast turkey, a special treat for this evenings fare. 

Responding to an email from T and J New Years Eve day 12/31/12

Beloved J and T,

As the world as we know it winds to a close thanks again for sharing your life´s work with yo mismo.   From the place I´m at now I appreciate the courage it takes to step out of the mainstream and follow your heart, to use your creative talents and gifts for a greater good.  The more we expand in consciousness the more light that shines into our world.  And in the end it is not so much the words we say but the example we set that will bring about the necessary changes to create a heaven on earth instead of the one we have created.

While my sample size is very small I am connecting with people, women especially as I may have mentioned before, that are awakening or remembering who and what they are in relation to All That Is.  In that there is hope.  Love, joy and peace are energies of the highest vibration which no other can overcome.  The more of it we put into the world the more of it that manifests until wallah, we have created something different, a nonviolent world at peace. 

If there is a Second Coming it is perhaps not the coming of one individual but rather a rising of this inner light within each of us that comes into the world committed to a higher good each according to his or her talents, guided by Love.  And by example, inspiring others to also change  In this creative tapestry all threads are important.  Yours must be green, coming from the heart.  

So good on you for being part of the rising tide.  Some thoughts rattling around wanting an exit path even as biting things have their way with this succulent flesh.  

I´m enjoying my multicultural experience in Kaua, Yucatan, a small rural Mayan community west of Cancun.  This gracious Mayan family took me in and has fed me out of their limited resources.  Chickens and dogs run in and out the open doors, eating and sometimes defecating on the earthen floor but encouraged to stay out with a fly swatter.  Sometimes their treatment is rough.  One older dog has learned to be wary of humans.  You can see it on its sad face. 

Sixto´s younger wife just had her third child, this one by caesarian section, so far no infection but wears a band around her large mid section.  She´s not supposed to lift heavy things but the work of caring for and feeding her children makes this nearly impossible.  Still she has said to me she loves what she does, the hard work and caring for her children which both clearly adore.   She nurses her child openly without a second thought in front of a stranger which is the natural thing to do.  They both lie in their hammock, usually not together with baby on chest or at their side while rocking back and forth by pulling on a rope tied to a rafter.  They had a fan blowing air towards the hammock until the cheap plastic hub shattered.  Smoke from an open fire set between three large rocks has blackened the underside of the thatched roof and rafters.  A metal grate rests on the three rocks to support pots or a flat metal pan to cook tortillas.  This home is built more the way a traditional one which was the intent.  The vertical log walls are held in place by vines as is every other support.  There are spaces between each pole to allow fresh air to enter.

On this journey I chose to not bring a camera for the distraction it creates, preferring instead to continue with a practice of just being present in the moment.  And sometimes this comes easier than others. 

But not all is well here either as it is in many places.  Plastic basura litters the landscape here and at roadside.  Sixto took a bag of plastic crap into the jungle to dispose of it.  Some of it gets burned.  I have seen this many times in my travels.  We have allowed this to happen without requiring that if something stands a chance of being disposed of at roadside or whereever, it should be biodegradable.  Ultimately,  until each of us takes responsibility for all of the messes we´ve created, not much will change except the hand wringing and rush to judgment. 

He also said to me that the people feel they are slaves to a government corrupted by love of power and money.  Sounds familiar doesn´t it.  A civil revolution is possible here he said.  Gabriel his nephew expressed a similar sentiment, saying that the patience of the people is not endless. 

Still, I remain hopeful of a turning tide and choose to focus my energies on a revolution of consciousness guided by the way of peace which is Love.

Tomorrow it´s back on the bicycle and head for the north coast then maybe back south again through Tulum, flying back to Miami on the 16th. 

And in that I remain perfect in my imperfections sending you much love and abrazos as we close out the old and ring in the new. 

Don


PS It´s roast turkey, a special treat for this evenings fare. 

On Sat, Dec 29, 2012 at 8:12 PM, Jean Aspen  wrote:

Beloved Don, 

I am slowly working my way through your Meister Echart book, glad for the commentary. You have been pivotal in much of my reading and I appreciate very much your taste in metaphysics. 

It is good to hear of your journeys and know that you continue loving each day. I think that is the simple-but-not-always-easy "answer" to life. Live the day you are given with the joy and curiosity of a child. It is a dichotomy, of course, for there is also the wisdom to make the difference you can without giving your gratitude. 

Tom and I spent our summer in the Brooks Range healing and filming. We plan to go there as long as we are physically able to walk and haul water. I have promised him next year that I will not write, but will film and go for long walks with him. I resigned my position as OB Coordinator at the hospital and now live with less money and no health insurance for the freedom of the mountains and time to be creative--a worthwhile trade in my opinion. I just completed my fifth book and have it out to readers for input. It is the story of how I became who I am, and is the most complex piece I have written. You recall that it is a work that has engaged me for 6 years. In addition, Tom and I have recut our documentary, Arctic Son, for the PBS time slot of 2 hours. We are currently crafting five special features, averaging about 15 minutes each, for the second disc of the documentary set. They will not be simple "sweepings from the cutting room floor," but each is a little gem, requiring weeks of layering and work. We filmed voice-over and background footage last summer at our cabin with a good hi-definition camcorder. One feature is a tribute to Lucas, one is about living your dream, one is about legacy and stewardship, one is a piece of upriver exploring from 1992 that is excellent--but couldn't fit into the original documentary because of time constraints--and one is a musical piece using slides that span my lifetime (60 years) in the Brooks Range. 

Next summer we will be filming for another documentary, "Arctic Daughter" using the excellent 35mm slides I took when I lived in the wilderness with my first husband in 1972-1977. It is good to have the ability to weave one's life into art and share it with others. What else is there to do?

Wishing you Joy, Inspiration, and strong legs

Love, Jeanie

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" -- Mary Oliver

On Dec 20, 2012, at 1:50 PM, Don Ross wrote:

Hola Tom and Jeanie,

Arrived safely in Maya land with bicycle two days ago.  Staying with a friend near Akumal about 40 miles south of Cancun after a flight from Miami.  Pedaled here from the airport, a major adjustment in the heat and humidity.

Tomorrow spend 12/21 with a Mayan friend not far away.  But today enjoying being on the beach and mostly out of the sun.  Catching up on email and use of a computer.  

Been a wonderful journey of discovery and renewed friendships.  And looking forward to how things unfold, exciting to be here.  And can't say I miss the cooold of Fairbanks this time of year.

Hope this finds you well and your project perking along well as you as you hoped.   Have a blessed Christmas and New Years and perhaps a pheasant under glass for a grateful meal of celebration.

Much love abrazos and bendigas,

Don

Re: While I'm NOT your proctologist….MERRY CHRISTMAS! - my response to J, 12/24/12

Yahoo or ouch or may yipee,

Swarms of ants on my tent this Christmas AM.  But the rest was peaceful here in the Yucatan.

More down the road.  Thanks for the greetings and the same to you both.

Don

On Sat, Dec 22, 2012 at 7:20 PM, <jamesfittz@mac.com> wrote:

James Fittz, DMA
Prof. Emeritus of Cello
School of Music
University of Northern Colorado
contact information:

17 Fox St, Denver 80223
(303)722-2780
(970)396-0420 (mobile) 
jamesfittz@mac.com
james.fittz@unco.edu

Re: While I'm NOT your proctologist….MERRY CHRISTMAS! from friend J after Fin del Mundo 12/22/12

Peace Rider from Kaua, Yucatan 1/1/13

Hi Lois,

This to you will also go out on the blog for everyone else following these postings.  I trust you will circulate this to a wider circle of Friends.

A few highlights from my time with the Maya.  At the moment I´m sitting in an Internet cafe in the small. rural community of Kaua on the road to Chichen Itza west of here.  The Itza part gets dropped by the locals.  Kids are on a computer to my left sucked in to a world of virtual reality.  It´s a bit more subdued to my right but the volume of noise in here is increasing.  Will see if I can make it through to the end. 

I´m  now staying with the Sixto Maxon family a kilometer in the other direction from town.  Sixton is the uncle of Gabriel whom I stayed with in the community of Muuchximbal, roughly two days of cycling southeast of here outside of Tulum.  From the day the world as we know it came to an end (12/21) until now I´ve been more off the road than on.  But it´s been just a wonderful experience of other ways of being and living.  Both of these families live close to the earth and most of the time directly on it.  Kids, cats, four, two month old puppies, an adult smallish dog, and the three remaining young pullets run in and out of Sixton´s casa maya at will.  It´s a hard scrabble life for the animals who eat scraps off the floor and are sometimes encouraged to leave with hard swat from a fly swatter.  But for all that they are not the scrawny ill treated creatures I have seen elsewhere in my travels.  Sixto´s younger wife Araselli loves having the animals around.  And as she said to me the work is hard but she loves it, the making of tortillas, cooking over a wood fire set between three large rocks.  She uses a flat plate to cook the corn massa for tortillas which in turn rests on a metal grate suspended over the fire.  This was the traditional way of cooking.  Before metal it was a thin fire resistant stone Sixton told me.  He works at Chichen having something to do with archaeology and anthropology.  My Spanish and understanding of it is improving but still missing some and mangling others as I speak.  But the effort seems to be appreciated. 

For those of you who have not visited this part of the world before, I am now in the State of Yucatan, I was in Quintana Roo east of here.  There is no surface water, it´s all underground but appears at the surface in cenotes or sink holes in this very porous limesstone.  Most of the original forest is gone and what remain is in parks.  Gabriel has a lovely little cenote near his place, and Sixto has one on his land.  This part of the Yucatan has a bit more top soil but it´s quite shallow where Gabriel lives.  I had to put stones on all my stakes to hold my tent down there but not a Sixton´s.

Well, I´m not going to quite make it to the end so will have to break off here and continue tomorrow when sometime maybe I can hit the road again.  It´s heading toward dark now at 5:30 and I don´t want to be on the road after dark with cars roaring by.  Fortunately, not far to go and there´s a wide shoulder just out side town. 

Don Peace Rider