Michoacan: The coast road through Michoacan is narrow and winding. Bushes and trees hang over and into the road, no maintenance along this road. There is often a strong smell of ripe mango, from the forests of mago trees, and burning plastic. Below the road are long, long white sand beaches with endless breaking waves. All completely deserted. The road is almost deserted, very few cars and very few gas stations, with the exception of the regular convoys of army, police and federales. Each convoy with up to 20 trucks. The army with its Humvees and armored personel carriers, the federales (and special Michoacan swat teams) with their blacked out suv's and armored cars with machine gun turrets.
North of Lazaro Cardenas I came upon this burned out bus in the middle of the road. Nothing else around, no traffic, nothing. I have no idea.
In northern Michoacan, just before crossing into Jalisco, and nearly out of gas, I had my first army search. Previous check points had been brief conversations in broken spanish, then waved on my way. This one was, off the bike, helmet off, open the bags. Which involved a lot of joking about the Mexican girls in short shorts also being stopped, everyone trying on my sunglasses, and me theirs. Discussions about how fast the bike was and how much it cost. And the commendante posing in my glasses for a picture.
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