Chased by the Federales: Part 2
Past Stories
Location: Tijuana, Baja California
Date: August 2017
….Continued from last week
My eyes opened. I blinked a couple times, trying to convince myself to get up and check the time. I took a deep breath, and pushed myself up off the couch.
8:40AM. Damn it.
This is Checkpoint ! I definitely did not take this picture, as I was way to anxious at the time. Thank you Google ! :D
I wasn’t surprised though; I was way too overambitious with an 8AM alarm. I quickly checked outside to see if Miguel’s car was on the street. No car. Miguel had already left for work. I took a nervous breath as I remembered him telling me he would have to explain the route to me before he left this morning. I guess he did not want to wake me. Meh, I figured the route to Ensenada couldn’t be that complicated. I have learnt through experience that there was no good reason to worry about something until that “something” is right smack in front of you. I had to deal with things as they come, otherwise I would drive myself into a spiralling mess of anxiety - the last thing I wanted while bike touring solo.
I sat down, and gobbled down my cereal and yoghurt while staring at Google Maps. I knew that there were two roads that went to Ensenada - the toll highway and the old highway. Miguel had mentioned that bikers are not allowed on the toll road, but it was MUCH safer because of the wide shoulder and light traffic. I trusted his advice, so I memorized the directions to the toll road.
I bike out of Miguel’s street confidently. About 15 minutes later, I arrive to a large four lane highway. There is a large sign that says “Bienvenidos Autopista Escenica [Welcome to the Scenic Highway]”. “I MADE IT THROUGH! I guess there was no checkpoint, or I just managed to bypass it.” I think to myself.
And then I see it. I spoke too soon.
I bike right up to a large checkpoint station and slowed down slightly. Immediately a gentleman pops his head out of the window and says “No puedes siguir!” He was trying to stop me. As I said in last week’s post, I am not a rule-breaker.
So I immediately stop and tried reasoning with him. I spoke in Spanish explaining that my friend from Tijuana told me that this is the safest route to take to Ensenada. He insists that I turn around and take the old highway. “I am willing to pay the toll in exchange for my safety. The old highway has no shoulder, and I want to choose the path that is the safest for me.” “Chica, escucha! No sé qué más decir. No puedes seguir. Mira el senal! [Listen, I don’t know what else to tell you. You cannot pass. Look at the sign!]” He points to a large sign behind him that clearly illustrates no biking allowed.
Frustrated, I call Miguel. Miguel picks up the phone and gives me one hell of a pep talk. “Mariam, listen to me. It is your constitutional right to travel in Mexico as you please. The only reason they do not let bikers go on that road is because they do not want to be liable if anything happens to you. Just explain that you will take responsibility if anything happens, and that it is your right to go on that road because you think it is safer. Mariam, don’t give up. Make them give up first, trust me. This is the better decision.”
I hang up the phone. “Argh, I hate this”, I whisper to myself. I repeat everything Miguel says, at least three times! But to no avail. I could not convince the man to just give up.
“I am sorry, I am just going to go through.” I find myself clipping into my bike. I start to pedal right through the checkpoint. “Chica, PARE! PARE! Ellos van a llevar tu bici! [Girl, Stop! Stop! They will take your bike!]” . Wait, Would they really take my bike?! My mind raced through all the scenarios. At this point, I was panicking but my feet didn’t stop pedalling. WHY AM I STILL PEDALLING?! The man’s voice started to fade. My body was really hot, my heart rate was probably in the 170’s. I just didn’t know what to do other than pedal.
A couple minutes later, I started to calm down as I realized the facts: I was pedalling on a fairly empty highway, no cars were honking, HUGE shoulder, and I technically made it through the checkpoint. “Deal with things as they come” I reminded myself.
All of a sudden, I hear honking. GAHHHH, it is happening. HONK, HONK, HONK. I quickly glance behind me and I notice a car approaching with “Policia Federal” plastered on the side. WHAT THE HECK DO I DO?!
The car pulls up right beside me, and slows down to my speed - about 20 km/hr. The windows roll down, and a man shouts in Spanish “You have to get off!” I turn my head to look this man in the eye and shout “Es mas seguro aqui! [THIS ROAD IS SAFER]!” Then I realize the extreme irony of the situation. This entire scenario is super dangerous. If you have ever ridden a bike (or drove a car), you know that it is really important to look straight in the direction you want to go. On top of that, he was slowing down traffic behind him. I quickly explain that he was making the situation more dangerous and that if he wanted to talk, I could pull over at the next intersection. He doesn’t speed up and continues to try and talk me into stopping. I keep pedalling as this car follows me, just trying to continue riding straight and think of what action makes the most sense at this point. Finally, he speeds up. I assume he will meet me at the next exit, where I will have to face some sort of consequence.
My eyes scanned the highway for the next exit sign. Finally, I see one, and I slow down and stop on the exit ramp. I continue scanning for the Policia Federales vehicle, assuming that it will show up any minute.
One minute passes. Then another. And another.
Did they give up?
I decide to continue pedalling south again on the toll road. “Argh, if they find me again, they will be so angry. But I’ll just explain that I waited at the exit for them” I say outloud to myself.
My brain was racing for the next hour of riding. Who would I call first? What would I tell them? How much would I spend as a bribe? Did I make the right decision? On one hand, I was upset with myself for breaking the law, because I strongly believe in respecting authority, especially in a foreign country. I did not want to be that irresponsible and careless traveler that locals hate so much. But in this case, the law didn’t make sense. It made sense to trust a local bike tourer who had guided many other bike tourers! My priority was my safety.
I arrive to Rosarito, 30km south of Tijuana and came to the conclusion that the Federales had given up. I found a safe spot to stop, got off my bike, and took a deep breath. I called Miguel and updated him on the situation. He told me that there were two more checkpoints. “WHAT?! You are kidding me?!” I said. “The next checkpoint will be much easier, I promise! Man, I can’t believe you were chased by the federales. Good story haha!”
He was right, the next checkpoints were smooth sailing. In fact, one officer at the checkpoint helped me carry my bike over a curb.
The toll road isn’t called a Scenic Highway for no reason. It was spectacular, but was it worth all the stress? Who knows - I will never know the counterfactual. All I know is that Miguel was right, the toll road was an easy and safe ride. But maybe next time (yes, there will probably be a next time), I insist on getting directions to bypass checkpoints before going to bed.
What would you have done?