Pit-stop in Puerto Morelos (Nov. 7 & 8)

We left Cancun at 15:15...

Loaded with our toxic-orange milk crates, we are definitely a road hazard while we get used to the weight on the back, the trucks hurtling by on the highway and the reality of it all. Fortunately the road has a massive shoulder that seems to be intended for bicycles, so we arrive in Puerto Morelos at sundown and without any problems. We are greeting with a plague of relentless mosquitoes. Still, the town is very cute (a pretty church, a tidy plaza and plenty of inviting restaurants), the night is near and we're scoping out places to stay. We had it in mind to pitch a tent on the beach, but a local tour guide who had a jolly time with some mates on the pier offers that we can camp at his place. Halfway between hesitant and desperate, we accept. However, suffice it to say that there must have been some translation issues with his perfectly good English, because Luis, ourselves and our bicycles ended up sleeping in his one bedroom cabaña hut that night. It was an interesting night, and despite being humbled by his hospitality in the end, we head out of there at daybreak.

A flat tire and plenty of cursing later, we realize that the bike racks will hardly make it Playa del Carmen, let alone Panama. We ride to the local side of town across the highway and spend the day with Fabio the Handyman Mechanic as he takes us from one person to the next to get the parts and welding done that make the racks indestructible (we hope!). Unlike the sweet little restaurants and hotels lining the beach, the real lives of Puerto Morelons happen on dusty roads littered with rusty bikes and machete'ed dogs. But it is lively, interesting and we feel safe because the people are genuinely kind and friendly. That night we slept between the fancy guesthouses, twinkling stars and terrible thorn-balls that will literally become the thorn in our sides for the rest of our stays on the beaches of Yucatan.