On Monday, November 12, I will be leaving to attend the 2012 Pata Salada Primer Aniversario and Saddlesore Challenge in Mazatlan, Mexico. The Saddlesore Challenge will be certified by the Asphalt Rats Endurance Motorcycling in Mexico and also by the Iron Butt Association.
The following is how this story has been told by some.
El Espinazo del Diablo
A Mexican, a German, and an American, known as "The Drei Amigos", rode their motorcycles into the mystical mountains deep within the heart of Mexico. Under cover of the darkness of the night they passed through the Gates to Hell as they prepared to meet face to face with the Devil, challenging him in his own domain. The headlights from The Drei Amigos' bikes pierced the veil of darkness and fog, but the lights failed to reveal what may lay hidden in the darkness just around the next curve. The Drei Amigos steadily negotiated curve after continual curve as they defiantly rode through the misty night and up to the very spine of the Devil himself. The Devil awoke in a violent rage as his anger turned toward the insolent riders who have dared to violate the sanctity of his kingdom. He will give no quarter for the indiscretions of the intruders. He hastily arose absorbed with the intent to cast them out by plunging them thousands of feet down the mountain sides to the valley's floor below. Bolts of fire were hurled through the dark sky casting blinding light down upon the impending battlefield below. The Devil stood at his full height, and towered above the surrounding peaks of the mountains. With glowing yellow eyes he glared down at the foolish mortals.
The Drei Amigos came to a slow stop and put their kick-stands down as they stared at the impeding figure above them. The Mexican dismounted from his bike and slowly walked toward the Devil. The Mexican shook his fist at the Devil as he held it high above his head in the air. His voice echoed across the mountains. "Give it your best shot Devil, because it's my turn next." The German uprights his bike as he prepared to meet the Devil and shouted, "Let the games begin". And then to himself he said, "If this goes bad, I'm blaming the Mexican." The American, who was from the deep South, put his kick-stand up, slowly rolled on the throttle, and leading the way to the encounter with the Devil, he began singing to himself, "I wish I was in the land of cotton,.......".
The Drei Amigos soon reached the end of the road and now have to cross over onto the backbone of the Devil. The Devil's backbone splits through a deep ravine and provides only a narrow refuge that may be traversed by the riders. One mistake in the darkness and fog and the riders would plunge down the steep cliffs. The Devil realized very quickly that he now had the intruders slowly making their way across his back. He began to twist and turn in an effort to dislodge the riders. His whole body started to tremble violently as the riders still were not deterred. He began clawing at his back as he was riveting in pain.
In what seemed like an eternity to the Drei Amigos, they continued their treacherous trip and finally crossed the length of the Devil's backbone. Back on the road in the mountains they began to increase their speed as the frequency of the curves started decreasing as they were beginning the decent to the distant coastal plains below. The Devil watched as the lights from the motorcycles began to fade into the darkness of the mountains. In a sullen manner he returned to his confines in the mountains and in a deep raspy voice vowed "Soon they will have to return and revenge will be mine".
The upcoming ride report will reveal a slightly different version of the above events.
You can follow my progress from my public SPOT page