Today has been my worst day of this trip. The weather was appalling on the ride from Valle to Toluca. I had been riding for about ten minutes when I realised I should have been wearing my down jacket as it was getting a lot colder. It had also started to rain really hard and it kept on doing so. Half way to Toluca I was already looking forward to getting back home, a hot shower and lazing in front of a warm fire. I was riding through thick cloud and rain from half way up the first pass. Soon after starting up the second and highest pass the mist turned to fog, it got a lot colder and the rain much heavier. I had to continually wipe the outside of my visor with a finger to clear it. The worst part was the fog that formed on the inside as it distorted my vision far more than the rain on the outside. At the top of the pass (10,600 feet) it was only four degrees Celcius. After many weeks of twenty five to thirty degrees it felt like four below in Fahrenheit. By the time I got to the Immigration Office I was cold, wet and not in a great mood. My gloves were sodden and my feet were wet. My supposedly waterproof jacket had been leaking along the arms and on my exposed shoulders. I handed over my application form with the six accompanying documents and thirty pages of photocopies. The two girls looked at them and my accompanying letter and said: ‘Because you are extending your stay to learn Spanish you have changed categories. You are no longer a tourist but a student. You therefore needed to fill in a different form.’ From my position across the counter I could see the new list had twelve requirements. My heart sank. It was a disgustingly awful day and it had just got a lot worse. I tried to be diplomatic pointing out I was a bit too old to be a student but if I was could I get a discount on the renewal fee? I also said I was only doing four hours a weeks personal tuition and was not on a formal course. How much teaching was required each week to qualify as a student? One hour? One minute? I was really annoyed and asked the girl who spoke the best English why she hadn’t told me so yesterday when I was getting the forms and list of requirements? I had said then I wanted to extend my visa to learn Spanish. She didn’t answer. One of them disappeared so I just waited as calmly as I could. She returned a few minutes later. ‘I just been speaking to our manager and she says you can have a tourist visa.’ I was overjoyed and blew them a kiss. ‘Oops’. So much for British reserve. They blushed slightly but luckily they both smiled. ‘Phew’. I was handed a yellow ticket with the number ‘10’ on it and asked to sit down and wait for my documents to be validated. I was still cold and wet I decided to stay standing so I could keep moving. When I had arrived I had tried to look as damp and dispirited as possible hoping it might help my cause. As the minutes ticked by I was desperately hoping that their boss wouldn’t change her mind. There was nothing I could do so I just tried to improve my Spanish by translating the posters. I was really glad I had changed my original personal application letter as soon as I had arrived in Toluca in the morning. In it’s original form it only said I wanted to stay another three months to learn Spanish. During the previous night I thought I should add a paragraph stating that I was on a long motorcycle trip from New York to Santiago in Chile and so wanted to be as fluent as possible for the rest of my trip. I think the extra bit may have persuaded her I was not really a student as I was only passing through. A few minutes later I was called over and handed my new visa. It was the original form with a big red stamp and ’90 dias’ written above today’s date. ‘Success’. Unfortunately, the visa extension was only the first part of extending my stay. The second was to renew my temporary motorcycle import licence. With my new visa safe in my top box I set off for Customs at the airport. I had previously been advised that I’d have to go to Mexico City to get the licence extended. I met a very helpful lady who took me to see another helpful lady. She looked a few names up on a contact list on her computer and gave me an address. I also asked for the phone number which she added on. ‘ Es posible por un otro noventa dias in Toluca?’ I enquired. ‘ Si’, she replied and pointed at the address she’d just given me. I was a little doubtful as Juan, whose house I’m staying in, advised some other friends to go to Mexico rather than Toluca. Undaunted I set off to find it after she’d shown me the road on my city map. It was the same street the big shopping centres were on so at least I knew where it was. All I needed to find was number ‘505’. After an hour of looking and asking many people I gave up. I stopped to phone the number I had been given only to discover the piece of paper had fallen out of my map pocket and disappeared. It was already after four o’clock and, as I was going to ride home slowly to reduce the wind chill, I decided to head for home. I was cheered by the fact it had actually stopped raining and had brightened up quite a bit. However, the cloud base was even lower than before. As I left the built up areas that gave me a much wider view of the countryside, I was worried to see how low the clouds actually were. I was going to get soaked again. That’s when I noticed the white stuff lying on the distant hills. ‘Oh shit. It’s snow.’ The snow looked lower than the highest pass. If the pass was covered in snow, even for a short distance, I may not be able to make it through on the bike so I’d have to return and stay in Toluca until it cleared. There was only one way to find out, so I kept going. It was six degrees and falling steadily as I wound my way up the pass. The clouds were getting closer and closer and my fears of snow were rising up to meet them. My front tyre is a Michelin T66. Whilst they last a long time on the road they are pretty useless off it in the dirt. They certainly weren’t going to be much use in snow or slush so I’d have to go really slowly. I suddenly wished I’d fitted the Pirelli Scorpion front I’d nearly bought in Puerto Vallarta but decided not to save the cash. Older and wiser yet again. The road narrowed as it turned towards the pass. It was not only the snow I had to worry about but also the cars and trucks – especially those without headlights. It was really difficult to see them coming through the mist and spray with my fogged and rain covered visor. This was the most hair raising riding I’ve done so far on this trip. However it was nowhere near as bad as riding up the Italian autostrada on the way back from my first trip. The motoraway went through the Frejus tunnel and emerged in France. That ride had similar beginnings. First there was low cloud. Secondly I spotted the snow on the slopes as the motorway wound its way upwards. Then came the rain which soon turned to slush and then snow. I had ridden into the snowstorm as it started. I was continually wiping the outside of my goggles to clear the slush and spray but there ws also a lot of mist on the inside. There were lumps on ice in the road as it hadn’t been salted it was so fresh. Lorries were passing me at speed continually covering me in slush and spray. I was freezing and yet couldn’t stop. I knew the warmth and safety of the tunnel was very close maybe only a few kilometres away but my deteriorating vision mad me double back to a services stop to thaw out. I rang a lot of water out of my gloves and soaked up the warmth inside. Feeling more normal after half an hour I asked how far it was to the tunnel. ‘It’s only three kilometres but you have to go thirty down the valley to get on to it’. ‘Oh shit’. I asked if there was an access road I could use. One of the waitresses, spotting my helmet said: ‘You should be able to get your bike through our access gate behind this building. It takes you over the motorway. Just stay on it until you rejoin the motorway just before the tunnel’. I did as she said and just managed to squeeze my bike through the gate. Within ten minutes I entered the warmth and safety of the tunnel. I was home. When I emerged on the French side it was cloudy but dry and a lot warmer. I booked into a hotel in the first town I came across and spent the next hour soaking in a hot blissful bath. At least it wasn’t snowing today. I turned a by now familiar corner as I saw the turning to the volcano. There were many cars and trucks parked by the side of the road. This was the highest point and it was clear. I suddenly felt much happier. But why were there so many vehicles all over the place? The police had put tape across the junction to the volcano. They had closed the road. There must have been a lot of snow. I had to stop again before I got to Valle to warm my fingers and clean my visor. The hot shower I had at home was wonderful. I’m now sitting in front of the fire typing this with a glass of Chardonnay beside me. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.
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