The sun was already shining brightly when we arrived on the ferry in Mazatlan at 10 in the morning.

There was a lovely vacation atmosphere in the pretty old town, with music playing in the main square in the evening and dressed-up people strolling through the alleyways. Right in the middle of it all was our quiet accommodation, a real stroke of luck. We liked it so much that we extended our stay by one night as soon as we arrived. With sleeping, eating and strolling around, the days flew by and it was soon time to leave the sheltered bubble. We wanted to escape the humid heat near the sea and ride to Durango, which lies at an altitude of around 2,000 meters. This was also the shortest way out of the crisis-ridden province of Sinaloa.

The dusty city outskirts were not particularly pretty, but the traffic was very civilized and in all the suburbs we saw women and schoolchildren alone on the road. Accordingly, we had no safety concerns and after a short ride we reached the first larger village of Villa Unión. The village had the appeal of a traffic junction and the disappearance notices of young men on the signposts in the park suggested that the morning peace could be deceptive.

Of course, we had informed ourselves in advance about the security situation in the region and even asked locally whether our planned route on the old road no. 40 to Durango was a good idea. On a short stretch at the beginning of the route there may be problems, but we tourists were safe: no pasa nada… nothing will happen. We set off with a good feeling, a military checkpoint and later a convoy of military vehicles reassured us of our safety. Our plan was to get through the rough area quickly and then spend the night in the village of Copala. We had read that there was a restaurant there where you could eat delicious food and camp for free. We were very disappointed when we couldn’t find the restaurant at first (it had moved) and then it was closed. Towards evening, the small village filled up with workers in orange overalls or fluorescent vests, as a mining company is exploring the region’s gold and silver deposits and accommodating its people in Copala. Everything was in perfect order and we were allowed to pitch our tent in the middle of the village square.

The next day we climbed further up through the subtropical forest. With little traffic, it was a pleasant ride… but we didn’t find it as spectacular as other cyclists had described. In a small, rather deserted roadside village, we were allowed to sit down at a family’s dining table while grandma prepared scrambled eggs, bean puree and tortillas for our snack. Her house was still marked as a restaurant on the menu. Unfortunately, a fresh layer of paint covered up the sign. Strengthened, we made our way up the mountain to the supposedly larger village of El Palmito. We had actually been looking forward to burritos for lunch, but all the food stalls had fallen into disrepair and the only working one was closed. At least we were able to buy a Coke from the window of a kiosk to sweeten our picnic. It was exceptionally quiet and deserted, nobody was out and about. Even the barred fence of the only hotel was closed. Behind it, however, sat the owner, who later served us a coffee. We actually wanted to cycle a little further in the afternoon, but we were enjoying sitting on the sunny terrace. When the lady asked us if we would like to camp in her garden, we gladly accepted her offer. In the evening, she cooked us dinner on the wood stove, which we enjoyed at her kitchen table among the mountains of laundry. Once again, what a great place this was!

In the middle of the night, a large husky sniffed around our tent. How had the dog gotten into the completely fenced-in backyard? Something was going on, because agitated dogs were barking everywhere, the sound of an engine could be heard from time to time and there was an unsettling silence in between. Both our hearts were pounding in our throats. We tried to convince ourselves that everything was completely normal and remembered the many other nights of harmless dog barking. At some point the noises subsided, David slept for a few more hours, I slept less… someone has to watch out😆! In the morning sun, everything was peaceful and the village was deserted, just like the day before. We were glad when we left this strange place.

After just a few kilometers, we were able to sit down again in the simple kitchen of a “restaurant” and enjoy our second breakfast. Now the route finally became really beautiful and led us in countless bends over the Espinazo del Diablo (Devil’s Backbone), which offered an impressive view. Before noon, we had made the ascent to 2’600 meters and arrived in the bustling village of La Ciudad. The oppressive feeling of the previous day was forgotten. Happy people, lots of activity, delicious gorditas and an amusing national park that stretched around a trickle of a waterfall cheered us up for good.

The next day was also cheerful on the road. The first forerunners were whistles, music, vehicle sirens and horns at 5 o’clock in the morning. We gradually realized what this was all about. It was December 12, the anniversary of the Virgin of Guadalupe, who is considered the patron saint of Mexico. In her honor, countless groups of relay runners and their accompanying vehicles were on the road all day. They carried their (non-burning) torches up to 400 kilometers in two days. Everyone ran in the opposite direction to us to El Salto, where a big party was held in the evening. Fortunately, we were not going to spend the night there😊. Instead, we pitched our tent about two hours by bike from the town of Durango, where we woke up to -4°C in the morning. Brrr… it had never been this cold on the whole trip! But the sun warmed up quickly, so by lunchtime we were already looking for a shady spot in Durango’s lively plaza. We had planned two days of rest in this friendly town full of shoe stores, leather belts and cowboy hats. However, this turned into three, as when we were sitting in our accommodation on the second evening, British cyclist David joined us with some bad news…

Did we cycle up here via the old road no. 40? He had been on the same route the day after us and locals had told him about us. However, instead of the military checkpoint, he had come across armed young men from a drug cartel. From conversations in the village, he heard that the conspicuous Jeep Wrangler Rubicon was not a good sign in this poor area and that the few restaurants had not closed by chance. When boys with fully automatic weapons offered him heroin for sale on the street and a fight broke out between the cartels a certain distance away, he had had enough and took the next possible bus to Durango. A gruesome but very credible story that better explained some of the things we had seen and experienced. What this David also told us was that a village on our planned route was also unsafe. Well… that was a lot of uncomfortable news at 22 o’clock in the evening before the planned onward journey. We remembered the advice of a long-distance hiker not to rush into decisions, but rather to take a nice room, get a good night’s sleep and a good meal and then judge again. And so we did. We booked another night in our accommodation in order to plan our next steps in peace.

My David searched the internet for a long time for reports about the drug war going on here. However, there wasn’t much to find out, because writing more than sober press releases about it is a big risk. It is no secret that the drug cartels rule Mexico. There are even maps showing their territories. Things become problematic where different cartels fight for supremacy. This is currently the case in the southern state of Sinaloa and in Durango, among others. One reason for the clashes is probably that important members of the powerful Sinaloa cartel were recently captured and the neighboring Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación to the south now wants to expand its sphere of influence. Because the two are at war with each other, more and more small gangs are forming between them and acting on their own initiative. That’s the extent of our research. There is more on the subject in this interesting audio report from SRF International (in German).

Although cartels don’t really bother tourists, it quickly became clear to me that we had to leave Durango by bus and David was easily convinced. On our extra day off, we walked to the bus station and found out about tickets and bike transportation. Reassured, we returned early the next morning with our loaded bikes and were soon on the bus, which took us comfortably via the highway in four hours to where we had started five days earlier: Villa Unión.

As the police, fire department, truck drivers and cyclists confirmed, the safest route from here was the toll highway. We were not impressed by the huge traffic sign banning bicycles and pedaled off. We just had to make sure that we didn’t ride over the sensor strips at the payment stations. The friendly staff always showed us the way across the sidewalk😊. The first short section of the highway took us to the village of El Rosario, where we stayed at the fire station. The next morning, we had only covered about ten kilometers on the highway when thick clouds of smoke appeared on the horizon. As we got closer, we saw that there were several trucks parked across the road. Only now did we realize that apart from a few trucks turning around, there was no traffic at all. The drivers signaled to us with flashing lights and hand signals that we should turn around as quickly as possible. We sped back to the highway entrance at El Rosario, where hundreds of trucks, buses and cars were waiting. The highway was closed.

The mood among those waiting was relaxed and we felt at ease in the crowd. Word spread that the cartel dispute over the village of Escuinapa was now taking place on the highway. Only after more than an hour did the police, national guard, marines and later several tow trucks gradually speed past us. When there was still no movement after midday, we returned to the village, where everyday life resumed its normal course. It wasn’t until the evening that we found brief reports on the internet about the highway closure and at least three fatalities. The firefighters were happy to see us again and to give us shelter for the night, although tempers were now noticeably tense. Fortunately, a blaring concert in the neighborhood provided some much-needed distraction.

The following morning, the fire brigade commander assured us that the highway was open again and ahorita – right now – safe. We set off as quickly as possible to get through the conflict zone. Apart from two burnt-out trucks, there was no sign of the fighting. Like the truck drivers, we were relieved when we got through this section.

What followed were four fairly uneventful days of riding on the good shoulder of the highway. That was fine with us. We slowly gained altitude again, which made the climate much more pleasant. At Jala, it was time to leave the highway, take a look at the pretty little village and make up for a cultural shortcoming: We sampled aguachile and ceviche, two dishes made from raw seafood. Jala and its neighboring villages all bear the title of Pueblo Mágico, which means that they are particularly worth seeing in some way. This also applies to Tequila, which is primarily known for its liquor and agave fields. Although neither of us like the taste of spirits, we visited a small distillery and were shown the tequila production process on an interesting tour. Nevertheless, we didn’t want to miss out on the final tasting. But honestly, even good tequila only tasted like alcohol to me.

Only one more day’s journey lay between us and Guadalajara, the second largest city in Mexico. The ride there was surprisingly pleasant. We only had to rely on the consideration of drivers at one highway junction😉. As soon as we had passed this, we were on the excellent cycle paths, which we followed almost all the way to the home of our Warmshower host Markus and his family. We have a really good time here, staying in the nicest room in the house and being welcomed with a Swiss fondue! Thank you very much for that! We also received our new, better earplugs, which we had ordered. May they give us peaceful nights in noisy Mexico!