Melar Review tags are currently only available for English language reviews. Spectacular view of Guanajuato lit up at night in all its glory! Reviewed July 4, Share another experience before you go. All four of us hardened business travelers enjoyed the meal but esepecially the outstanding view. The food is characterless, overly fatty and bland a meat lasagna. To find this place go from the main square actually a triagle called El Jardin pitagoricco the main street by the church and straight one block to the bottom of a hill.
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Catarpe is a state of mind Constant readers of this space will remember that a couple of days ago I tried to walk to a village outside of San Pedro but got waylaid from the true path by the promise of a tunnel and some rocks had there been magic beans as well, I probably never would have come back. After a day of rest and blogging, I made the attempt again today. Not the best nutrition but light and lots of calories per grams.
This time I decided to increase my energy efficiency by renting a bike. Mountain bike rental outlets are ubiquitous here. Anyway, the first open place I came across was a combined internet cafe and bike rental.
Their prices were lower and the bikes not as shiny but there was nothing decidedly dodgy about the joint. Either lots of things go wrong or they really care about their clients or their bikes. A welcome addition was a helmet. I told the guy I was going to Catarpe and he drew me a map, the gist of which was that I continue on the same road I took the other day, until I come to a stream, and which point I cross and turn left for Catarpe and right for something else called Quebrada del Diablo.
Not sure if this was for my comfort or the health of the bike. He also said it was 20m wide. Not that I had forgotten how or anything. So I duly ride out into the desert, for about 4km or so, reach the stream which was less than 20m wide, at least at the narrow point where any sensible person would cross , ford it magnificently, and take the first left, despite the lack of a sign saying "Catarpe this way". I kept on going, wondering where Catarpe must be, because I had been led to believe that it was km away.
Eventually I reached a second stream, or really, the path crossed the stream again. This time it was wider. Ok, shoes and socks off, roll up pants, sling shoes over neck, and walk across. Bike does not touch water. Nothing but air!
Reverse previous steps. If your foot hits a rock, it hurts, and your spinal cord says "foot, move" remember what you learned in science class about what happens when you touch a hot stove--your brain is the last to know.
So, more road, no village. Eventually a third crossing of the stream. Negative on both, amigo. Plus, the route from about a km on was not doable by bike.
The truth of that last statement was that it was about m on. So I turned around and ended up back at the first stream, where a bunch of people were picnicking. I asked them and I was told to cross back over the stream and I would find Catarpe.
After a few more minutes I was more dubious. I saw some guys up to something or other just off the side of the road, so I asked one of them. Here is where I attained sudden enlightenment. Catarpe is not a village. There is no village.
Catarpe is just an area, perhaps with some legal status, but definitely not a place where people live. In defense of my stupidity, I specifically asked the guy working at the Pukara de Quitor if there were a pueblito in that direction, and he told me there was. Perhaps his definition of pueblito encompassed the encampment a few hundred metres off the road surrounded by old vehicles. But the good news was that I had been to Catarpe, and the picnickers were full of it, and I had still gotten a nice ride out of it.
Lesson: do not believe a man just because he speaks eloquently in Latin. Or any derivative thereof. This news also meant that if I went back and turned right, I would get to Quebrada del Diablo, whatever that was the guy who rented me the bike said it was "interesting". So, I rode back and crossed the first stream for the third time. Exit, stage right. Not one with water, but high rock walls and a sandy, winding path. Sometimes underneath solid rock.
Sometimes with a ledge that means you have to stop and hoist the bike up first. I was getting a little ticked with this bike that I had to carry so many times when it was supposed to be carrying me. More long and winding road for 20 minutes or so.
The Hill. There was no way I was going to ride up that thing. In addition the path being a bit precipitous, my year-old lungs and legs were not up to this job. So I walked the bike up, and it became obvious that them organs were not really up to that either. I was maybe 10m from the top and not feeling hopeful, so I left the bike behind and scaled the mount to see if what was on the other side was going to be any better.
Five minutes walking the trail convinced me that just more lung-torture was on the way. But i can handle being bested by a clearly more powerful foe.
I sat atop the hill for minutes and contemplated various things, not the stuff Pei Mei contemplates, just my stuff. At around 2. Getting the bike back down the hill was non-trivial, since its momentum wanted to make me go faster than I thought proper on a hillside path. I basically rode the brake down. Back to stream, cross again. Here is when I have to get philosophical on you. Certain adepts have managed four crossings, on the strength of two chocolate bars, even.
I got back to San Pedro at 3. I still had 45 minutes left on the bike rental but my butt was sore and I had no place else I really wanted to go. All things considered, a good day. A full day would have been pesos. The places I saw yesterday were charging and per half day. You pays yer money and you takes yer chance. Posted by.
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