Our Friend Rufo!

While in San Jose Pacifico, a small town in the mountains of Oaxaca, we met a friendly dog.  We had decided to go on a hike, when halfway up the trail, we met a friendly brown dog.  He began to follow us, and eventually, we decided to call him Rufo.  We continued for a long time up the road, until we came to the highest point of the road.  From there, we began to travel cross-country.  After a while, we passed near a house.  We tried to go around, but had to pass near it.  Suddenly, some dogs came out of the house and attacked us.  They were very aggressive and kept biting Rufo.  Eventually, one even bit Alia in the back of the calf.  Rufo was unfazed by this though, and followed us closely as we tried to escape.  By the time we made it back to town, we were good pals with Rufo.  We were hugging and patting him.  When we would sit down he would even curl up with us.

 

The next day we left San Jose Pacifico.  As we started to hitchhike, we saw Rufo.  He came over and said hello.  We could not take him with, but we will never forget him.

Pulque!

Pulque is an old alcoholic beverage that has been made in Mexico for many centuries.  Now it is not very common, and it can only be found in small little breweries that specialize in its production. It is made on a weekly basis so as to not make it too strong.  It is made from the scraped leaves of the agave plant, and is often mixed with guayaba.

The flavor is not like any other alcoholic beverage I know.  The closest taste might be mead - honey wine.  It is slightly sour.  Maybe not my favorite alcoholic beverage, but definitely a cultural treat.

Guanajuato, Mexico

Guanajuato is a small mountain city north of the Federal District.  This is a colorful town, rich in history.  It is completely surrounded by mountains, making it accessible only through tunnels.  Entering this town is very exciting.  It's a bit like coming to El Dorado; you approach the mountains, enter through the tunnels, and emerge into a beautiful hidden city.

There are very few roads in this city which are passable by cars.  The hills are steep and some of the "roads" are no more than a meter wide.  Navigating the city is at times tiring. You must climb stairs everywhere you go, and sometimes the stairs seem never ending.

Guanajuato has a very rich history.  This city was the location of the first major uprisings during the Mexican war for independence from Spain.  There is a famous story of El Pipila, a man whose actions allowed the insurgents to overcome authorities in the city of Guanajuato.  When the Spanish troops took refuge in the city's granary, the insurgents were unable to make headway in the battle.  It is said that El Pipila strapped a large flat stone to his back, which allowed him to approach the  granary unscathed and set fire to its door.  This allowed insurgents to enter and take over the building.  El Pipila is memorialized in an enormous statue overlooking the city.

This city has some wonderful architecture as well.  The Teatro Juarez is a wonderful place to meet with friends and chat, and the churches in the city are spectacular.  Guanajuato is by far one of my favorite cities in Mexico.

Mexico City Canals

In the southern end of Mexico City are the last remaining canals of Lake Xochimilco.  This lake was once the heart of agriculture in the area, but now has largely disappeared.  If you go down to the canals, you will see the brightly colored boats that navigate them.  For some money, you can go on a tour of the canals in one of these boats.  We chose to just sit and watch the boats float by.  Even this is quite a nice experience; it is very peaceful and beautiful.

This is the entrance to the canals.

Here are some of the boats.  The more magnificent boats are often named.

We spent a very nice afternoon sitting on the bank of the canals.

The watermelon swimming in the ocean

One day in Isla Mujeres (Cancún, México)

 

l wrote this to Alia on Sep 8th 2010, after her departure from Cancún, México. Alia had some days between the end of her summer job with the US Forrest Service and beginning of school. As I was still in México, we had decided one month earlier, she could come to Cancún and be together for one week. Later, I would have to continue my way back to Spain, hoping to fix my US immigration status, and Alia would have to be back in school for the fall semester. We had not had much opportunity to be together until then and clearly would not have much opportunity either after Cancún. So, we decided that week in the Yucatán would make for our Honeymoon. The message that follows, was written after her departure...

September 8th 2010

Hola Alia,

It was difficult to see you leave Cancun. It was difficult to see you disappear among the people in Cancun’s airport. It was difficult to see you take with you, at least, part of all the love you had brought with you one week earlier.

The other day I was able to take a look to the pictures you took. At night my eyes get a little better and I can better enjoy the pictures. In your absence, the pictures at least allow me to remember all the love you brought to Cancun. I was still able to enjoy the love you put in those pictures: your happiness in those pictures, your expressions of love,  the anal setup and preparation that preceeded each picture, your smile, your shining eyes.

I remained in the airport for still a couple of hours after you left. I was a little confused, disoriented, like after something hits your head. I was feeling a little lost, still wondering where that love had gone. It’s true not everything had been perfect. There had been beautiful times, there had been stressful times and there had been passionate times. But, in the end, you always keep and remember the best. After all, nobody can say that things have been easy for us. The road we found has certainly not been smooth.

I went to one of the cafes, trying to get some internet connection. I wanted to check my email, and maybe write a few more messages. I wanted to wait a little while, in case anything happened. I didn’t feel like going back to Cancun and start figuring out what to do with the rest of the day, the rest of the week and the rest of the month. However, it became soon clear that I was not going to get any internet connection at the airport, and nothing out of normal was going to happen with your flight, so I started my way back to Cancun.

I started walking towards the hostel, hoping to find a hotspot. I could not find any until I finally reached the hostel. So I sat there for a couple of hours, across the street, sending emails and trying to figure out what to do next. Finally, I ran out of battery and went back to the bus station to find out about the bus schedules to the west. I hoped I could find as well some power plug to recharge my batteries.

There were buses day and night and I preferred a night bus, so I decided to stay a little longer and keep working on my plan for the next days. Then I thought I could also go to Isla Mujeres and, that way, win some time to get some replies.

Eventually, I decided that was the best option. So, I started doing research on how to get there. Unfortunately, I found out too late that the cheapest ferry was not the one running until late in the night. It was, however, too late as well for another change of plan, so I took the 10:30pm ferry to Isla Mujeres.

I was out of luck that night, I made it to the hostel in Isla Mujeres at 11:15, to find out the office closes at 11:00pm. I had thought the hostel, being a party hostel with lots of life until late in the night, would not give any problem accepting people arriving late. I was obviously wrong.

It was a bad end for a bad day. I really didn’t feel like struggling with that day much longer, so I decided I would go to the beach, look for some quiet place and sleep there. I kept telling myself that it would probably be much hotter in the hostel’s room, than at the beach anyway. It did not take long to find out, I was actually not that wrong about that.

In the middle of the night I woke up. Some couple was passing by on their romantic late-night beach walk and the girl freaked out when she saw a body laid down on the beach. The guy went to inspect my bags, so I rose my head to let them know I was doing well and only sleeping.  She thought I was dead and I clarify I was not. He told me to be careful that I don’t get attacked. I explained I could not get into the hostel and just wanted to have some place to sleep and start some better day tomorrow.

Other than that, the night was not that bad. I enjoyed throughout my sleep the fresh breeze of the sea and was already laying down on the beach when I woke up. I was starving though… and, even worse, probably getting dehydrated. Nothing to be surprised about, since I had not had any food, since the day before, when I had breakfast with you. That afternoon in Cancun I did not feel like doing any work, not even going for some food.

In fact, I was still feeling that way. I did not feel like eating, I didn’t have the energy to start digging in my backpack for some food. I wished I had some juice and I could just drink as much as I needed. Everything else was just too much work and not even what I really wanted. But I was starving, probably dehydrated and it was nothing but going to get worse.

So, I decided I would do what I had to do and spent the next hour eating something; as little as I was enjoying it. I started feeling a little better, but I was still very thirsty. I just didn’t feel like packing everything again and carry all my bags back to town, just to get some drink and then go back to the beach. It was starting to get hot as well, so I thought getting into the water would make me feel better. I didn’t want to expose my white skin too much to that mid-day sun, but those clothes were killing me under that heat. I really needed something to cool off the temperature of my body and the water in fact felt very good.

Surprisingly, while I was in the water, something hit my hand. It was some big, round thing. I turned around to find a huge watermelon swimming in the ocean. As soon as it had gotten my attention, it started waving at me: “Youhoo…!!”, while moving its leg up and down in the air. I was really very thirsty and that watermelon looked really 'freaking' juicy. I just could not find the way to tell that watermelon to stop screaming at me: “eat me!, eat me!”. But the watermelon had a big crack running through its entire length and, obviously, did not seem very safe to eat. I felt like Adam in the Garden of Eden, being tempted with the evil apple.

I decided I would take the watermelon out and study the situation very carefully.  I thought I would call Rationalman and have him assist me taking a good, rational decision on the matter. Suddenly I noticed somebody was trying to get my attention. A few people had gathered next to me. Some Mexican woman was making weird gestures to this American, to make him understand he should through that watermelon away. Rationalman, however, interceded and asked the woman in perfect Spanish, what would be the reasons to through away the watermelon. She explained it could be bad. I had, however, already worked with that hypothesis. She did not have much more to offer. I thought I would cut off the surface and try a little bit deeper inside. I was really thirsty, probably dehydrated and that watermelon was really sexy. In fact, if I was thirsty, that watermelon was pretty much the best I could have possibly wished for. Besides, it would not stop screaming at me, no matter what. Rationalman gave his thumb up to have a bite and see if I feel good or bad. The watermelon was actually 'freaking' good! I waited a bit and since it became obvious I was not getting any reaction, I decided to go ahead and eat some more. It was at times a bit salty, but I could always spit it out, and overall, it made me feel much better.

It even had some very positive secondary effects. The people around me was in complete shock, as they watched me dissecting and eating that street watermelon. It became clear I should be really desperate and in very deep hardship, if I did not mind to eat such thing and put my health in risk. So, some man came and offered me a can of soda! I told him I truly appreciated. I explained I was feeling dehydrated and that is why I gave it a try to that watermelon. Shortly after he came with a plate of food. Some seafood with some vegetables and potatoes. It was freaking good! After that, I was still able to enjoy the beach a while longer, but could not stay much more, as I was fearing I would get burned. So, I packed all my stuff and got ready to leave the island. That watermelon had saved my life that day, so I did not want to abandon it and leave it alone in the beach, so I took it with me. It became, however, a real pain to carry that huge thing, that monster, around. It was not long before it got bad anyway and that I finally had to discard it. That watermelon will always have a space in my heart and will always have visions of it swimming in the ocean, waving at me: “Youhoo!!”, while moving its leg up and down in the air.

Javier

Revisiting Mexico, hitch-hiking through Baja California, Sonora, Chihuaha and Sinaloa

On June 22 2010 I finally left the U.S. through San Diego - San Ysidro, into Tijuana. It was a very dramatic and emotional moment. I had been given a ride from Los Angeles and we did not notice the turn off, so we made it all the way into the borderline. It was the last time I was going to see my friends in many years. Who knows, I may not see them again. Yet we were barely able to say goodbye. They did not have passports and were really worried the had crossed the line and would be stuck in Mexico.

I had to leave the U.S. because of immigration problems. However, I thought I would not go directly to Spain, but cross over to Mexico. So, I would have the chance to travel all through the country until the Yucatan peninsula. Eventually, I would need to go to Spain, where I could start my visa application again. However, before Alia needed to register the marriage, so I had a few months I could use to travel through Mexico.

For some stupid reason, I came up with this stupid idea of crossing Mexico spending the least amount of money possible: that is, spending no money in hotels nor transportation. So, as cheap as little rooms may be in Mexico, there were still not acceptable for my stupid project. The transportation part was accomplished hitch-hiking. I first couchsurfed in Rosarito with Chef Chick, an old, liberal, American Vietnam-veteran, in his last months of life.

He had some really bad breathing problems. He had been told, he should have expected to be dead by then. But had been doing fine until then. He was starting to feel worse, however. At some point he said, maybe he was living his last summer. I learned one year later he died the Spring after. The week I spent at his place had been really good to me. Chef Chick was simply trying to enjoy the last years of his life and, at that point, the best way he could think of enjoying his time was helping out other people. One day I offered to teach him to cook a Spanish Tortilla. He was interested, but he asked me to allow him to cook it. He explained his illness had reduced him to almost nothing, but he was still able to cook. For one thing he was useful for, he did not want to be displaced. He was really nice to me. On my last day, we had a rather heated debate: I was explaining I was against country border and he, as an American patriot who had fought in Vietnam, could not make any sense of my point of view. As I would not back out he eventually became rather upset, but he realized I was just expressing my point of view. Then, he wished me all the best in my travels and my plan to rejoin back with Alia in Montana. Thank you very much for your help Chef Chick.

It was very special to be back in Rosarito. That's right, four years later, I was back in Rosarito. My first time in Rosarito, in the summer of 2006, was very intense: I got robbed in my first day. Shortly after, U.S. immigration did not allowed me to cross back to the U.S. to return to my apartment in Los Angeles.  Then, I spent a couple of months in Rosarito trying to figure out how to be allowed back in the U.S. and working with the Guardias Judiciales to get my stolen backpack from Chavez, the 'clandestine' drug dealer who bought it from Jaime Pimentel for $200 in marihuana. Rosarito brings back many, intense memories to me: so much energy spent with so little result, but the friends I made during those months. The youngest of all those was Jorgito. He was about four years old in 2006. In my return to Rosarito, I did not miss the chance to visit him again.

From Rosarito I started a hitch-hiking trip for several days. Some family first took me to Tijuana. Then, two guys explained they would like to help me get to Tecate, but it could not be until the morning after. They still offered I spend the night in some shack they had.

 As promised, the next morning they showed up to pick me up and take me to Tecate. The guy even gave me a coat, if I could make any use of it. It was the beginning of summer in the hottest place in Mexico. A couple of days later I had to endure almost 50ºC (122ºF) in the dessert between Baja California and Sonora, so it was not really like I was going to feel cold, but that coat did help me as a sleeping pad.

I was dropped off in Tecate. I had also been in Tecate in 2006, so, it again brought me a lot of memories. I had already remembered those days in Tecate in 2006, watching the movie Babel. In Babel, like it was my case in 2006, the Mexican nanny gets in real trouble crossing back the Mexican-US border at Tecate. In my return to Tecate I was able to fulfill the plan I had kept for those last four years. In 2006, walking around Tecate, I discovered a tunnel used to smuggle illegals and drugs into the U.S. My camera´s battery was dead and I was not able to take any picture at that time. In my return in 2010 I went straight to take those pictures.

After I got my work done, I went to have some food. Actually, I went looking for some place where I could watch the 2010 South Africa World Cup football game between Spain and Portugal. Clearly, the best option was a restaurant, so I also took the chance to eat some food. By the way, Spain won 1 to 0, so I was happy.

After the game, I was ready to leave Tecate and continue my journey. I took the road and looked for some spot to hitch-hike. It again took a while, and it was really hot, but, finally, some truck stopped. The truck stayed there for a while and I would not get the clue he was stopping for me. Finally, it stroke me and I went to check. The trucker was very frustrated I would not get it. However, he was really cool and cheerfully invited me to hop right in. Again the guy was really cool, because he even stopped for me to enjoy some sightseeing. However, he almost got in trouble: we got intercepted at some checkpoint. The Mexican officer was not friendly at all. He gave me quite some crap because he considered I had not been careful enough crossing lanes. He explained I should show respect for Mexican laws the same as my country's authorities require Mexicans to observe my country's laws. My friend, the trucker, very kindly asked him to chill out. The officer was really grumpy and inquired what was the deal with me, but the trucker simply explained I was hitch-hiking and he was only trying to help out.

The trucker gave me a ride all the way to Mexicali. It was sunset and somebody stopped again for me. However, he could not give me a ride all the way to San Luis del Rio Colorado. He offered I stayed at his place and he would take me to San Luis the next morning. He looked really sad and depressed. He explained he had recently separated, and he would appreciate the company.


It became really difficult to get a ride from San Luis to Puerto Peñasco. It was already dark and some guys at this gas station had seen me struggling, begging for a ride for hours. It was already pitch-black, so they started begging on my behalf for anybody to pick me up. Finally, some family finally accepted, but I would have to ride on the trunk of this pick-up truck. I said: "anything", and jumped in. I spent the next couple of hours, open-air, riding through the dark night. The worst however was yet to come. I had hoped once we would make it to Puerto Peñasco, they would have some suggestion where I could spend the night. But that was not really part of their business. So, as we were entering town, they simply asked me to jump out. It was midnight and I really had no idea where to go. I even looked to find some place among the bushes between the two ways of the road. I really could not convince myself of doing it. Finally, I stepped out and went to lay down on the side of the road. Three hours later, dawn woke me up. I was glad I had survived the night and decided to move out and visit the town.

It turned out to be quite a walk and my bags were killing me. But it still had to get worse as the day heated up. It was the very end of June and Puerto Peñasco is already in the Sonora/Arizona dessert. I think the hottest temperatures ever recorded in the world, have been in this dessert. It was freaking hot that day. I went to some library for some internet access and I saw the thermometer at 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Pending to cross the Sahara dessert, hopefully one day in the near future, that is the hottest I have ever experienced.

I walked some more, then went to the beach. The sun was finally setting and it was time to start looking for a place to sleep. Again, I could not find anything. I finally gave up and accepted to sleep again among some bushes on the street.

The next day I was ready to leave town and try to cross what seemed one thousand kilometers of dessert to Hermosillo. I had found some CouchSurfing host there and I was really longing for a few days of rest. Fortunately, enough people took pity on me throughout the day and I arrived to Hermosillo just after sunset. For some reason I cannot explain, it seems like it always starts up great, until you are almost there and then you get stuck, to the point you start fearing you will not make it to the end. I really enjoyed crossing the dessert, again on the back of a pick-up truck. It was funny to stop in the middle of the dessert, for some refreshments. Those guys treated me to some local special drink: it was some sort of frozen fruit juice. Under that heat it felt really delicious.

After some hours, they dropped me at some gas station. The thought of not finding a new ride and getting stuck there, was a bit scary, as it was right in the middle of nowhere. Finally some other guy stopped. He was some sort of teacher. He would be some months teaching in some remote place and then spend the rest of the year at home. He was the first to tell me about the Sierra Tarahumara. It sounded like a really beautiful place. But as he depicted it as these very green and humid mountains, just a few hundred kilometer of the hottest dessert on the planet, it seemed to me the guy was drunk or something.

I think it was Santa Ana where he dropped me off. I was so close! But then I got stuck at this gas station. I would beg and harass anybody who stopped there for gas, but nobody had any space for me. Again, it was the people working at the gas station who finally felt pity for me and start asking everybody to give me a ride. Finally some truck drivers did: I guess in Mexico truckers do not have deal with this insurance BS against stow-aways.

I was finally in Hermosillo! That night I was going to sleep on some bed and probably even have good food, Youhoo!!! I got dropped off at the opposite side of town, however. So, I still had to wait a few hours for my host to come pick me up. I was freaking tired and desperate. He did not show up until midnight. I had started to fear he would let me down. I was really not happy and thought I would never forgive him for doing that to me. However, the week I spend with him and his family was so wonderful, now we are best friends!

I extended my $0 journey through Northern Mexico for a couple of more weeks. I was still able to make it through the Sierra Tarahumara, into Chihuahua, and back to the coast to Los Mochis. As fun as it was, or shall I say, it is now to think about it, it was even more painful than reasonable. I just had to accept it was not healthy to continue torturing myself like that. So, by the time I was ready to leave Los Mochis, I went to the local bus station to buy a ticket to Mazatlan.

Javier's Cycle Tour

Bienvenidos!

Welcome to our travel blog!  We are excited to share our adventures with you.  Check back frequently to find new recipes and stories.  Feel free to follow us by typing your email into the box located on the left navigation bar.  If you have a location you would like to suggest to us, you can contact us using the information found in the "Contact" tab.  We look forward to it.

Enjoy!
Alia and Javi

Hiking the Eastern side of the Going-to-the-Sun Road (Glacier NP) in winter

The following is an amazing story for all those that have lost any faith in human nature. It is almost unbelievable the extend to which Gerard Byrd went out of his way to help me out, with absolutely no personal motivation or whatsoever: just with the strong and firm desire to do the good.

After one year in the surroundings of Glacier National Park, I still had not fulfilled my dream to reach Logan Pass and Hidden Lake in the long snow season. In the very beginning of December 2009, I finally saw the chance. The weather forecast predicted a couple of beautiful, sunny days, and I was finally going to be able to take my most dreamed pictures of Glacier National Park in winter.

On Wednesday December 3 2009 I took off towards St. Mary, on the East side of Glacier NP. I biked the first part, but, I clearly did not have time to bicycle all the way there, I had to hitch-hike.

  Starting the hike

 Starting the hike

  Camping in the snow near Logan Pass.

    View into Logan Pass.

    Starting descent from Logan Pass.

   Camping in the snow near Logan Pass.

    Camping in the snow near Logan Pass.

TO BE CONTINUED

Glacier National Park horror story (The United States of America Vs. Javier)

Introduction

The following is one of the most intense stories you can find. For a naive reader it may sound unbelievable, but it is strictly true from the first letter to the last. Many good people is strongly convinced "America is the land of the free and the freest country in the world". The American media works hard to impose such believe. The reality is quite different. I have met people who got angry and see in the following story an attack to America: it is not. What made the U.S. strong was its ability, in the old days, to take a critic view at itself. Nobody is perfect and the only way to solve mistakes and inefficiencies is to first recognize them. That has never happened in my story. America today is not what you see in the movies or the American media. The American people has a big, good heart. As this story reveals, the system does not work that well anymore.


The Story


Last Memorial Day, as there was no hiker/biker closure, I saw the chance to be one of the first to get to the top and enjoy the spectacular scenery of the snowed peaks. In order to keep enough time to do my riding in the park, I decided to hitchhike from Kalispell to West Glacier. After a while waiting, somebody stopped. Initially he thought he did not have enough gas to go all the way to West Glacier, but at least he would get me somewhere closer. Eventually, he made it to West Glacier. As we arrived, we found a crowd of people, apparently they were performing some rescue operation. My 'driver' decided he would help out and asked me to get off the truck. I got all my gear ready and took off up the Going to the Sun road. Two hours later, when I arrived to Avalanche, one ranger approached me; Some other ranger wanted to talk to me. Apparently Mr. Jesse Hopkins, the person who had given me the ride to West Glacier, was accusing me of stealing his money. I explained them that was totally false. I may be stupid, but not to the point of stealing something from somebody that is nice enough to give me a ride, and then flee on a bicycle, going up some dead-end road, with rangers all along the way, following the route that I had told my driver I would take. At least, I had tried to hide in some trail... Unfortunately, Ranger Steve Dodd was absolutely convinced it had been me and he had solved the case. He pointed out I had been the last person seen in that truck. But I guess the point of stealing is not to be seen. If you are seen, it should be very stupid to steal anything. As I knew I was innocent, I invited them to search as much as they wanted and realize that I didn't have anything that did not belong to me. For one hour, they kept searching, looking everywhere. I was kept without any other clothes than a thin rain coat and some shorts under the cold, pouring rain. I was not even allowed to put on a shirt. I kept being harassed, humiliated and accused, as Ranger Steve Dodd was totally convinced it had been me who stole the money. Apparently my driver was missing $75 and a credit card, however he was not even able to say he had seen me or anybody else taking the money. As a matter of fact, he never left the truck unattended while I was in the vehicle. I do not even see enough that I would be able to search and find some wallet I do not know anything about. However, Ranger Steve Dodd decided he was going to intimidate me, so that I would be forced to admit the accusation and give up $75 of my money, and had the case solved that way. But I was not going to admit something I had not done. I could not understand why they would believe him blindly and not even give me the benefit of the doubt. When they finished searching and could not find anything, Ranger Steve Dodd was too pretentious to admit he had made a mistake. Instead he insisted I give $75 to my driver, else he would find some other way to hurt me. So I had to decide whether I wanted to make it easy or difficult. I thought this kind of practices were common in three-world countries, but not in the United States of America, so I declined. Ranger Dodd tried to convince Mr. Hopkins to file charges against me. Mr. Hopkins, however, refused and only accepted to write a statement, where he referred to me as a 'gentleman'. I was then taken to the headquarters, where I was kept for the rest of the evening; still without clothes and without food. I was shivering the whole evening and did not have any food until the morning after; breakfast in jail.


During the following hours Ranger Steve Dodd, loyal to his promise, kept looking for anything he could charge me with. He looked into my immigration record. He asked me about my boots, as they looked too new to him that I had said I bought them in 2006. He asked and investigated about all the different places where I have been staying. He asked me how I have entered the park, as they did not remember me at the gate. He held an one-hour phone conversation with my old roommate in Los Angeles, trying to get any kind of information he could use against me. In any case, nothing that held the slightest relationship with the case of theft that supposedly was being investigated.

Ranger Steve Dodd finally went on and cited me with whatever looked best to him, because by no means he would let me go and therefore admit his mistake. According to Ranger Steve Dodd, I had illegally obtained the disability pass I used to enter the park. He first stated the pass was only for US citizens. As he realized it was also for residents, he argued that if I have been touring across the country for the last several months and was at the moment not paying any rent, any lease or mortgage, I was not a resident and therefore obtained my pass illegally and entered the park illegally. He cited me to appear before the judge three months later, knowing that would completely screw up my bicycle trip. As I protested and tried to give him my explanation to his charge, he replied: "that is all fine, but I will have to explain that to the judge". As I tried to make a call to my lawyer to get a better knowledge of my legal options, he arrested me. I spent that night in jail, and, if all that had not yet been enough, as I was released the next day, among the paperwork I received, it read I was 'not allowed to go back to Glacier park unless it was for employment or to attend some court hearing'. I had not been informed about that restriction by the judge as I was requested to pay my bond. Moreover, my lawyer was never adviced of my arrest and therefore could not represent me before the judge.

It was personally heartbreaking that after having been planning for so many years, waiting for so many months, when the time finally came, I was told I would not be allowed to ride across Logan Pass. That was the time and that was the moment. The snow was finally melting, the park was blooming, the crowds had not yet arrived. The road was not yet open for cars and was available day long for bicyclist. And I could not enter Glacier park, as if I had caused any damage to the park.

I am sorry I could not come in a car, quickly drive around and leave the next day. I am sorry my vision only allowed me to come on a bicycle. I am sorry it took me several months on the road and I cannot afford to pay several months of motel rooms. However, I don't think I deserved the treatment I received last Memorial Day. What happened to me that day is more proper of a fascist regime, rather than a free country where people is free, have rights and are considered innocent unless proven otherwise in a court of law. In June 2009 I filed a complaint to Glacier National Park for the incident with Ranger Steve Dodd on Memorial Day. I asked to have the restriction not to enter Glacier park removed. I was hipocrately told that condition was not coming from Glacier park, but was responsibility of the judge that released me. However, as I filed a motion to the court to have the restriction lifted, Glacier park and the government opposed it (see also my reply to the court) Based on four bogus incidents, the worst of which was that in February 2009, when the park was covered by the snow, I was found sleeping in my sleeping bag at 9am in Apgar Village, outside of the designated area for winter camping, Glacier park argued I was a troublemaker. They even used the fact that I had filed a complaint to argue "that made me more dangerous". My motion to be allowed into Glacier park was rejected, as it was considered 'necessary for the safety of the community'. Similarly, Glacier park and National Park Services, concluded there was no basis for my complaint. Ranger Steve Dodd filed a false report and Glacier NP did not admit any wrong-doing and did not offer the slightest apology. According to them, it was fine Ranger Dodd coerced me to admit quilty. They said: "it had only been wrong if I had submitted to the coercion and actually admitted quitly".

In July 2009 the prosecution finally presented the evidence against me: a copy of the application form I signed to obtain my disability pass. I had stated "I was permanently disabled and was a citizen or was domiciled in the United States". Both statements were true as my passport proved. Still, even when they knew I was innocent, I was asked by the prosecution to pay a settlement of $500 to have the case dismissed. I declined.

After some weeks riding my bicycle around Yellowstone and the Beartooth Highway, I started my way back to attend my August 21st court hearing. As the restriction whereby I was not allowed in Glacier read I 'could not enter the park unless it was for employment or to attend a court hearing', on August 20, the day before my hearing, I rode my bicycle from the east side to the west side through the Going-to-the-Sun' road. One ranger saw me as I was going down the mountain and informed me he would 'tell the judge about my behavior'.


The next day, at the court hearing, my lawyer presented a motion to have the case dismissed, as it was clear the statements I made in my disability pass application were true. My lawyer had thought he could explain in person the arguments for the motion during the hearing and have the judge decide on the following days. The judge however stated the time my lawyer chose to file the motion was not appropriate and rejected it without even reading it. The government then asked to put me in custody, since I had been found the night before on the Going-to-the-Sun road. The judge accepted the government's request, since he considered it was well known that the fastest route from the east side to the west side was US-2, instead of the Going-to-the-Sun road. I tried to explain that riding a bicycle as I am, it is precisely much more dangerous to ride alongside cars driving as fast as 60-70 mph on US-2, compared to the Going-to-the-Sun road, where cars cannot go over 20-25 mph. In fact, back in March, I was already hit and almost killed riding my bicycle on US-2, by a car that did not see me. To begin with, the restriction did not even say that I was allowed to enter Glacier National Park only if it was strictly necessary to attend a court hearing, but just "if it was to attend a court hearing". Unfortunately, I was not allowed to speak and instead spent the weekend again in jail.

In 2010 Glacier park celebrates one hundred years since it was first opened. For the centennial, Glacier National Parks wants to be an inspiration to the world. I hope the horrifying experience I went through in Glacier park will never inspire the world. I strongly believe visitors do not travel hundreds, thousands of miles to a national park to break the law. National Park Services' work should not be to keep citizens out of national parks, but rather the opposite. I do not understand how in the United States of America, the authorities find it acceptable that law enforcement harasses and coerces citizens to admit an accusation, regardless of whether that accusation is right or wrong. I do not understand how government representatives, public servants, allow their personal feeling interfere with their work and go as far as filing a false report and lying to the court to fabricate false evidence, when they learn their assumptions were wrong and cannot find any true evidence against the defendant. In a country that takes pride to be free, everybody should be assumed innocent, until proven otherwise in a court of law. I do not understand how the government can ask a citizen, even if it is from another nationality, to pay a settlement of $500 and continue prosecution, after they verified that he did not brake the law and made no false statement. I don't understand how a judge can dismiss a motion without even reading it and throw you in jail not even allowing you to speak. I don't know if it is Glacier National Park, National Park Services, the state of Montana or the whole United States of America, but what happened to me was wrong and somebody, somewhere, needs to do something so that it does not happen again. I hope this letter will help putting an end to the practices I was a victim of in Glacier National Park.