From The Costal Flats Into The Mountains...

You don't laze around for two and a half months without expecting some physical decline, do you? The amenities and comforts of city life will soften your body and spirit in no time, at least if you have a rather flexible sense of discipline as I do. But then again, existence as such naturally goes through different phases, and a week or two should be sufficient to readapt to the more ascetic lifestyle of the road.
The green coastal lowlands of the states of Sinaloa and Nayarit with their less challenging topography had been forgiving here. It was good cycling on the wide shoulder of the pleasantly low frequented MEX15 'Cuota' toll highway, and they don't charge bikes. Unlike the parallel running 'Libre', this road mostly avoids getting close to towns, which — for me — greatly adds to its charms.
The experience was rural, my passing through Agave and tobacco plantations, corn fields and pastures. There were orchards of mango and other — to me unknown — fruit. At times dry, jungle-like forests grew to the East, whith the blueish mountain barrier of the Sierra Madre Occidental rising in the background. Still readjusting to the daily exercise, I moved slow, but carried sufficient supplies for the 290 kilometres to Tepic. Despite the road being fenced on either side, I easily found good spots to camp in fields, orchards or woods. I encountered but few people, with some I exchanged greetings or a few kind words, thus those were truly quiet and peaceful days in the country.

When approaching Tepic, the character of the road changed; the 'Cuota' merged into the 'Libre', the shoulder shrank or partly disappeared and the now heavier traffic became more of an annoyance with its increased noise and exhaust gases. Like a roller coaster the highway wound through mountainous terrain, squeezed itself through claustrophobically dense jungle vegetation. Leading up to the highlands, the general tendency was uphill, but steep inclines changed with deep declines, which added to the frustration as it only meant I'd have to regain the lost altitude repeatedly. In short, to me those thirty-something last kilometres to Tepic were something to endure rather then enjoy.
Tepic itself was a pleasant surprise:

A bright and colourful, lively city by appearance and feel as I cruised down the main street. I stopped at an internet café and stocked up supplies and it was late afternoon before I made my way out of town again. Kindly ignoring the no-bicycles-sign, I entered the MEX-15 toll road, which started out near flat now. Under a deep-blue sky throned the sombre cone of the volcano Panganguey over with luminous golden-green fields covered gentle sweeps of high plane.
By the roadside I discovered an overgrown citrus orchard with ripe lemons covering the ground. Not only made it for a formidable camping spot but also provided me with a decent supply of delicous, Vitamin C delivering, water flavour enhancing fruit for days to come.

For the most part the road to Guadalajara gently rolled through vast and near plane highland valleys and I thoroughly enjoyed travelling them. On over 1000 metres the air felt dry and still held about 25 degrees Centigrade during the days while dropping to around or below five at night. The radiation of the sun intensified with increasing altitude and I started using sun blocker again.
The dominating colours had earthy tones: the browns and yellows of harvested fields, the silver-grey of pastures and the dark green of scattered trees and light forests. The low winter sun added a golden glow to everything in this wonderfully dry-land scenery and was contrasted most becomingly by a wide open, blue sky.

In the area around Magdalena and Tequila traditionally vast Agave plantations dominated the landscape.

Again the intense colours of the blue-green plants, red-brown soil and azure sky complimented each other in a simply stunning composition.
I gave up the idea of paying a visit to the hometown of Mexican firewater after seeing it situated some hundred metres lower in a deep valley, the idea of having to cycle all the way up again just killed any desire. This bicycle journey so far taught me one thing: I'm not fond of cycling up mountains, and this is a very understatement.

A few days later, on an early afternoon, I found myself sitting in some patch of Savannah-like bush land just outside Guadalajara, wondering whether to traverse the city on this same day or rather on the next. Though I had done already near 50 kilometres, I decided to go on and dived into the soaring traffic on the peripheral roads.
This city is the second biggest in Mexico with a population exceeding six million at the least. It fills the vast flat bowl of a 1600 metres high valley. It may be unjust, but overlooking it from the edge was enough for me to make me want to get away. Yet my map fooled me into underestimating the effects of urban clustering, and I cycled on and on, in flow with dense, smoking traffic from one suburb or commercial area to the next. Southward town merged into town and it wasn't before Ixtlahuacán some 55 kilometres later when I finally emerged from the human beehive and - much fatigued - retired to a small clearing inside some lot of man-high grass, just before the sun set.

The motivation behind my little detour to the Laguna of Chapala was the vision of some resting days on some quiet stretch of the expansive lake's shore. Yet when eventually I arrived at the Laguna near Ocotlan I found it almost thoroughly inhabited. Thus I restricted myself to a short visit to enjoy and capture some great vistas before continuing on my road trip and postponing the overdue resting and cleaning days just a little further. Tomorrow I'll enter the state of Michoacán and in a few days I'll be in its capital Morelia. There I will spoil myself with a room containing a real bed, there'll be a hot shower and real coffee, grilled meat and cold beer... And the best thing is the feeling, I honestly will deserve it...