There are two main roads weaving through Mexico: the calle libre (free road) and the autopista (toll road). When four friends and I, all engaged in adventure cycling, biked through Mexico, our choice in road shaped the future.

We chose the toll road. Not only did it develop our appreciation of the survival essentials, but it also irrevocably changed our perspective.

Toll roads are government-owned roads that require payment (free for bicycles!) for maintenance efforts. They are:

But beware! With these welcoming attributes comes a set of challenges for the adventure cyclist. The fast track means a lack of off ramps and, therefore, a lack of resources.

Toll roads, by design, bypass the smaller towns along free roads where food, water, and shelter are plentiful. They teach, through trial and error, the three survival essentials of choosing to travel on the toll road.

Survival Essential #1: Water

The first question for survival on a bicycle is: “How much water can you carry?”

After a 4-hour-climb in the mountains of Guerrero, Mexico, our crew stopped to fix a flat tube. When we reached for water to hydrate, we realized our bottles were empty. The midday heat was kicking in, and there was no water resource in sight.

While most of us morosely shook the last drops of water onto our tongues, my friend grabbed his empty bottles and started waving them like a madman at cars zooming by.

In an act of both desperation and creativity, we followed his lead. After many cars zoomed by, our 18-wheeler salvation arrived. A cargo truck rumbled toward us and slowed with a crunch-screech of breaks.

Catching up with our empty bottles in hand, we jogged underneath the passenger’s window. A pair of hands tossed out a gallon of water. We shrieked, “Muchas gracias!”, and the anonymous driver and truck rolled into the distance.

Although water may be an obvious survival essential, our toll road environment changed our perspective. Water became a precious commodity due to rare access and the physical need from cycling for 6 or 7 hours a day.

When we were gifted water from a truck driver or passerby, we became giddy children opening presents on Christmas day. The value of things we carried changed. Excess items (like clothes, even electronics) were left behind and replaced with the weight of water.

Survival Essential #2: Shade

We found ourselves in a desert of sun, and shade became an essential during the hottest hours of the day.

At the mercy of the weather and climate, we began to form a daily routine, where the break in the middle of the day was the perfect time to find our shade “oasis”:

What was our cue to look for shade? When we heard the sizzle of our backs frying like eggs or felt the salty sweat roll down our faces.

Sometimes, we began to see mirages. The shadow of a small tree became an umbrella planted in the white sand with a beach chair awaiting beneath. We stopped there.

While resting near an overpass, I looked over to see our teammate Gaby fast asleep on a comfortable bed of cement. A memory foam mattress would not have given her better sleep or a softer surface.

Our second survival essential was surely shade. We took it wherever we could find it. At midday, drivers looking out their car windows spotted five cyclists curled up in the toll road’s shady places and knew not to disturb.

Survival Essential #3: A Place to Camp

As the sun began to sink behind the mountains, exhaustion crept into our legs. We kept our eyes peeled for a place to stop, cook, and sleep.

We began to have an eye for finding the “perfect” place to camp. A space with flat ground, enough room for three tents and perhaps a tree for rain cover. For an extra 10 points, the perfect spot was hidden from the view of traffic (avoiding car lights and any interested passersby).

Our perspective on the perfect place to sleep changed when towns and hostels were nowhere in sight. Along the Mexican toll roads, a dirt turnout was often the only option for setting up camp. But because we carried our homes with us, the perfect place to sleep became less about the amenities and more about the freedom to stop and sleep anywhere we chose.

Appreciating the Small Things

Our time on the toll road was full of challenges that developed an appreciation for the smallest things. “Mi amor!” (My love!), I would shout in excitement for a patch of shade, a forgotten bottle of water, the beginning of a downhill, or a surprise snack at the bottom of my front basket.

Oh, I see how traveling by bicycle on Mexican toll roads changed my view of what is essential—a cell phone or computer could not provide us the shade, a place to camp, or water to drink, the things that really mattered.

Things we took for granted, seemingly small, were now at the forefront of our attention. They were not only survival essentials, but the simple essentials.

In the end, when pedaling up to a fork in the road, a decision arises: autopista or calle libre? For adventure cycling, I recommend trying the autopista (toll road) at least once for the experience of learning your own survival essentials and perhaps a change in perspective.

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