Saturday in Real de Catorce
Saturday July 19th

The graveyard behind the church is a botanists paradise.

Maybe it's the horse shit, or the human shit,

or the decomposing bodies. The flora is beautiful,

the air is filled with rich smells and the sound of buzzing bees.

Hotel Real, Real de Catorce

Real de Catorce to Parras de la Fuente
Sunday July 20th

I'm laying on the bed in the Hostal El Farol, staring at the fan and the ceiling fifteen feet above me, as the rain buckets down into the courtyard outside my window.

I left Real de Catorce yesterday after an equally rain filled night. Seeing the lightning flash light my room behind closed eyelids and hearing the distant thunder in my half-sleep . Vaguely aware of the steady convergence of thunder and light until a loud crack and flash fill the air, then the gradual divergence as I drift back to sleep.

The morning was bright and crisply cool. The steep cobble streets were wet and I went slipping and sliding down the hill out of town, barely holding it all together.

The high plain below the Real de Catorce gorge is filled exclusively with Joshua trees and low scrub as far as the eye can see. Miles and hours later the temperature begins to rise and the landscape is a forest of ten foot tall cholla cacti. As I near Parras it is warm and the land is flat and farmed.

View f rom my room, Real de Catorce

Real de Catorce

Hostal El Farol, Parras de la Fuente

The route in green

Parras to Parral
Monday July 21st

A day on the Autopista. The steady humm of the motor at 120kph. The cuota toll booths: Watch for oil, one foot down, gloves off & fishing for cash in pockets, drivers behind getting impatient, gloves on and away. Getting off at the Pemex: Pulling it up on the center stand, "rojo lleno", get back on and away.

The Hotel Acosta, Parral

View from room 22 - just after the rain

The bright yellow line

Parral to Gomez Farias
Tuesday July 22nd

The road north from Parral passes through hills and rich farmland. The outskirts of Cuahtemoc feel like a mid west farm town. Modern farming equipment and big organized farms. At the Pemex, fair skinned red haired teens speak perfect english. There is a large Mennonite community here. North of Chuauhtemoc the road twists back into the mountains. I was watching black clouds and lightning over the mountains to the east, and I was racing them due north to Col. Alvaro Obregon where I would turn west and, hopefully, leave them behind. It was a tie. I huddled under the cover of a pemex station as the rain poured down and the wind blew trash and leaves down the street. I pulled on my waterproof layer and headed west, eventually leaving the rain behind. I stopped at Gomez Farias, a tiny one street town, for the night. A town where all the cross streets turn to dirt about a block either side of the main street. The police followed me, as I walked up and down main street looking for a meal, but never stopped or adressed me.

Gomez Farias - diner and breakfast

Gomez Farias to Magdalena
Wednesday July 23rd

More twisty high desert mountain roads with sparse traffic until I reached Hwy 2. Hwy 2 runs east west, more or less along the border, and is a much more scenic and interesting ride than the freeway alternatives in the US. I got completly lost in Cananea. And, yet again, Garmin decided the best route to the highway was a dirt farm road that ended at an embankment ten feet below the highway. I stopped for the night at Magdalena. A town with a perfect little town square, surrounded by arched collanades containing little restaurants. The kind of place I'd been dreaming of as I became tired and thirsty at the end of the day. But it was bitter sweet. I had diner and a beer sitting in one of these restaurants and I was the only one there, excepting a scourge of flies. It was hot, but a nice place, and no one around except the workers and a few locals passing by. In small towns this has become a common experience for me.

US / Mex Border marked by yellow plastic posts
and laser beam warning signs

La Curva Hotel - Magdalena

Route marked in bright yellow

Magdalena to Mexicali
Thursday July 24th

A series of sprints between Oasis. The road through the Altair desert, north of the Sea of Cortez, is flanked by steep dry mountains to the north and sand to the south. At every Pemex I stop, a few liters of gas for the bike and a few liters of liquid for me. The longest stretch, from Sonoyta to San Luis Rio Colorado, is about 130 miles without a gas station oasis. When I reach Mexicalli it is 116 degrees. In Mexico you can walk into a hotel or restaurant looking like Harry Dean Stanton in "Paris Texas" and everyone just smiles.

The Altair - I continued north west to Mexicali
The dark area mid-way is a fantastic set of switchbacks
through boulder strewn mountains