Suburban man's 22,500-mile trek through the Americas continues

From his first motorcycle ride to encounters with scorpions, Isai Madriz, of Montgomery, continues his 22,500-mile trek through the Americas.

The 26-year-old set off from home on Sept. 10 and crossed the U.S.-Mexico border on Oct. 11. He arrived in Guadalajara, Mexico, on Oct. 22 after biking more than 2,400 miles.

Now, he's with relatives while waiting to get vaccines against malaria, diphtheria and other diseases he might be exposed to during his trip.

His goal is to arrive to Tierra del Fuego, the southernmost tip of Argentina, before winter hits in mid-March. Eventually, he wants to bike South America's eastern coast all the way to Caracas, Venezuela.

Earlier Coverage Stories Suburbanite bikes 22,500 miles to a dream [9/13/07] How you can help You can mail contributions to the Jesus Guadalupe Foundation, 902 S. Randall Road, suite C-322, St. Charles, IL 60174. Write "for Isai" on the check.

With his trip, he wants to raise funds for the Jesus Guadalupe Foundation, of St. Charles, whose scholarship money helped him earn a degree in zoology and marine biology in May.

His next long stop will be in Chetumal, on Mexico's Yucatan peninsula, where he will spend a few weeks studying manatis and other wildlife with local marine biologists.

In his words ...

During my first two days in Mexico the rain completely soaked my shoes. I decided to wear sandals the next day.

At about noon one of my bags came loose and I stopped to fix it. When I was about to start up again, I stood on the pedal and put all my weight on it to get moving quicker. Then, my foot slipped from the pedal and all my weight fell on the big toe of my right foot. I just heard something pop and I immediately felt an intense pain.

When I saw my foot, my toe was pointing toward my face.

I quickly sat down, grabbed my toe tightly and snapped it back in place. The pain was so intense that I stayed there for 30 minutes.

With each pedal, I felt the pain run through my whole body so I had to adjust my trip.

In the following days, I covered only 60 miles a day, compared to the 100 miles a day I was covering before.

A week later, I met Don Cuevas, who lived in Chicago in the '70s, selling fruit in a little town. When I told him what I was doing and he was so impressed that he gave me everything I was going to buy, plus a kilo of cheese. It was like my early Christmas present so I ended my ride a couple hours early and enjoyed that cheese.

Because there was nothing but cacti on the highway I was traveling on, I decided to set up camp when I saw a bit of vegetation. I waited until no cars were coming so I could lose myself in the undergrowth before someone saw me, in order to avoid an undesirable encounter.

But I didn't realize the vegetation was full of thorns, but the thought of eating the cheese gave me the courage to plow ahead, a decision that I would soon regret.

I began to feel like hundreds of thorns were piercing my skin. I reached a point where the vegetation became so dense that I almost couldn't pass. When I was about to come out of that labyrinth, one of the bags on the front of my bike got stuck on a branch and I lost my balance. When I least expected it, I was lying on my left side on top of a couple cacti and, for a change, the bicycle with its 80 pounds of weight had fallen on top of me.

When I got out of there, I felt like a pincushion, but I decided to first set up my camp before calmly starting the arduous task of removing my new decorations.

When my camp was ready, I began to eat my tasty cheese while I plucked the innumerable thorns from my body.

The next morning, I realized that I still had a thorn embedded about an inch into my left thigh. When I tried to remove it, it broke in half and I couldn't dig out the rest because these thorns have a little hook on the tip.

All my digging only pushed the thorn in deeper.

When it completely disappeared, I went to my gear, took out some tweezers, disinfected them with alcohol, and set out to try to fish out the thorn. I inserted the tweezers, trying to pull out the thorn. The spot where it had entered ended up becoming an open wound, and every time that I thought I had the thorn, I only pulled out a few muscle fibers. After an hour of pain, I decided to stop. Even now (two weeks later), that thorn is still in there. The good thing is that each day the pain diminishes but it's still a nuisance.

A few days later, while I was traveling through Jimenez, Tamaulipas, I met Don Lupe, who put me up for the night. His house was simple, without electricity.

Don Lupe gave me permission to take a bath in a small improvised area he had built. When night fell, Don Lupe turned on his "little stove" that consisted of a wheelbarrow with some pieces of wood, and heated water for coffee.

All that night Don Lupe and I chatted, while I used my water filter to make clean water. We had a very nice chat that made me feel very close to him. He told me he was an orphan and he never had the chance to go to school because it was more than 20 kilometers away from his house. His life was very hard and even though he never learned to read or write, he asked me to write him to tell him how I was doing, which I did first thing upon arriving in Guadalajara.

He told me that someone would do him the favor of reading it to him. Since he seemed so excited, I did not hesitate to write him. The next morning we made tortillas with rice soup in his "little stove." When I left, it really made me sad because he had told me that he had hardly anyone to talk to and he was so happy I had chosen to spend some time with him.

Before leaving I gave him the last ten dollars I had left. I knew it wasn't much, but I didn't have any more.

That same day, 80 kilometers from Jimenez in the suburbs of Victoria, I met Francisco, a triathlon runner who offered me his house through the weekend.

When he found out I was a biologist he offered to bring me to El Cielo Biosphere (a national park 100 kilometers from Victoria). We decided to go by motorcycle in order to return to Victoria promptly to continue my journey on Monday.

That was the first time I had ridden on a motorcycle, but what a first time!

The biosphere is at an elevation of 2500 meters and the only road to get there is the worst road I have ever been on. The road was wet, slippery rocks. The motorcycle we rode was a MotoCross with a somewhat worn rear tire, which gave us some problems during the climb.

On two occasions the ground became so rough that we were knocked off the motorcycle. I fell on the luggage but Francisco fell on the exhaust pipe, burning his calf. Even though we fell a couple of times I have to mention that I have great admiration for Francisco as a motorcycle driver.

There were more than 10 times when I just closed my eyes waiting to hit the rocks and Francisco managed to get us past without any problems.

The climb took 2 hours. I wore a backpack weighing 15 kilograms with our things. And to allow Francisco to maneuver freely, I tried not to hold onto him. I ended up sitting on a pipe over the fender that heated up intensely with the bike's exhaust. I felt like my hip was being destroyed with every bounce and at the same time the heat was causing hemorrhoids to sprout like flowers in spring.

When we arrived, everything hurt and I couldn't sit down. My toe, more battered and swollen, and the thorn in my leg bothered me more than before. But once we arrived at our destination, what a view! The clouds touched the tops of the trees and it was a beautiful place. It was really worth all that punishment.

The next morning we did not want to risk another similar trip and we decided to walk to see the attractions in the area. One of these attractions is "the elephant," a huge rock eroded in the shape of a large elephant, very impressive. That day we walked 21 kilometers and by the end of the day my toe was the color of an avocado.

That Sunday (a day after arriving at El Cielo) we left to return to Victoria. The descent wasn't as bad as the climb but my backside still heated up like a marshmallow in the middle of a bonfire.

On Monday, I left Victoria for San Luis de Potosi. On the way I ended up setting up camp in Villa de Hidalgo on the outskirts of San Luis.

At midnight, the noise of little feet walking around my tent woke me up. When I turned on my flashlight and pointed it up, I saw, to my surprise, how dozens of scorpions were walking on top of my tent. I assured myself I had closed it well. While I was trying to sleep, I couldn't stop seeing how the scorpions were walking by, exploring the tent and passing within 10 centimeters of my face, which was almost touching the roof of the tent because one of the supports had broken.

I was afraid that the only support holding it up would collapse and that I would have an unwanted encounter with those little creatures. Luckily, that didn't happen, and I was able to fall asleep again.

On Oct. 18, I passed through San Luis de Potosi and I had to stop at a health inspection booth between the states of San Luis Potosi and Zacatecas because I did not have a drop of water. Working there were Angel, Mesrain, and Don Pedro. They let me stay at their booth. Their job was to inspect the livestock passing through 24 hours a day.

Chatting with them I discovered that Angel's birthday was the next day, the same as me. When they found out, they offered me a place to stay that day and to throw a big party for both of us. I happily stayed another day.

The biggest gift I could hope for was to take a hot shower; that was enough for me.

The next day they brought me more food. I helped them to inspect the livestock. I never thought I would work on my birthday. The conversations I had with them were like those I have with my old friends. I felt like I had known them for a long time.

The next day I left, and like the other times, sadness engulfed me because that might be the last time I would see such wonderful people.

Two days later I arrived in Guadalajara, but not before having an extremely uncomfortable night. At kilometer 96 of the highway from Lagos de Moreno to Guadalajara, I stopped to set up camp. There was a small canal at that spot that served as a drainage ditch. With clouds threatening a huge rain, I decided to stay there. The drainage ditch was concrete, so my tent was not anchored, but I decided it was preferable to protect myself from the insects. I slept alongside my bicycle.

The whole night there were sounds of little animals, but it was at 10:30 p.m. that I sensed something bigger.

I felt something large pass by my feet and disappear into the underbrush.

A couple minutes later, I felt the same sensation. When I grabbed my flashlight and tried to see what it was, the creatures had disappeared.

After seven tries, I was able to see that the drainage ditch was a transit route heavily used by rats. At first I thought they were cats because of their large size, but when one of them climbed onto my chest, I saw that it was a rat! I quickly brushed it off me.

Since I didn't want to risk another trip through the thorns, I decided to stay there. With time, I got used to being part of the "new rodent highway" and I slept there while the heavy traffic continued all through the night. The next morning I woke up stiff and tired. The rodents also left me a souvenir, soaking my tent with a peculiar odor.