Statistics and highlights

LAST LOCATION (updated: 06th June 2013) :
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, Central America.13085 km.  Studying Spanish here for several days waiting for a delivery.

TARGET:
Ushuaia, Argentina, South America by 28 Feb 2014 (amended!). 14000 km to go.

HIGHLIGHTS SO FAR:
- SURVIVING A BEAR ATTACK on the Dalton Highway (day 8 in Alaska).
- Self-rescue in Mount Denali National Park (highest mountain in North America).
- Camping and cycling vast distances in mountains and snow in temperatures well below freezing for months on end.
- Crossing the United States from Banff to the Mexican border in wilderness and solitude on dirt roads down some of the highest passes and longest / high alpine deserts in North America (very late in the year), requiring 7 to 8 hour days of solid biking time without a break for weeks on end in order to beat the inevitable winter.
- Sailing across the treacherous Sea of Cortez (250 miles, 4 days, 4 hour shifts) in a small boat with a broken engine and sail; limping harzardously into a busy port.
- Experiencing astonishing landscapes and geography of incomparable beauty.
- Dealing with and enjoying extended periods of solitude in remote wilderness areas.
- Treasuring random encounters with a vast and diverse range of interesting people and their cultures, histories, buildings and foods.

Stuck in San Cristobal de Las Casas

Again the pace has been slow as I struggle to leave Mexico behind. Time seems to pass very quickly whenever I stop somewhere and I have a consistent, albeit mild, sense of guilt when I have more than one or two rest days. This guilt doesn’t seem to make much difference to my behaviour as I consistently indulge in an extra few days in various locations.

I’ve nearly hit the 2 week mark in San Cristobal de las Casas; an exceptionally beautiful colonial city. I would have stayed only a few days but unfortunately I’ve had an extended period of food poisoning. The hotel profited well since I’ve stayed an extra 10 days as a result! My first proper illness in my trip so far. It took me by surprise since I’ve been eating at some pretty dodgy places for the last 6 months without any problems. I seemed to have recovered ok in the last few days so I’m heading off tomorrow and should be in Guatemala within a few days. I had considered flying to Columbia and skipping the raining season in Central America, it’s been raining very hard all this week; think rivers running down the road. All day as well, not just 1 hour in the afternoons as everyone says about the tropics; I’m told it’s the back end of a hurricane. In my opinion, rain is the one the toughest hardships in cycle touring. Being permanently wet for weeks can be difficult to endure (I’ll be avoiding camping where possible). Dirt road options are often difficult or impossible to cycle, depending on the surface, so paved is often the preferred route but of course the traffic is much more dangerous when it’s wet. Anyway all these thoughts are going through my head as I consider what Central America might be like. If it’s too bad I’ll fly to Columbia; this is, afterall, supposed to be fun (sometimes).

UPDATE: I’ve continued along to Comitán. Climbing out of San Cristobal was pretty wet, grim and cold. After 20 km or so the road started descending steeply; I could barely see due to the water flying off my wheels. I tried wearing my sunglasses but they just steamed up. Fortunately as I got lower the air temperature heated up significantly and the rain stopped. Within about 30 minutes I was dry and the rest of the day was a fun ride. Comitán has a nice colonial feel and beautiful square, close to Cascadas el Chiflón (one of the highest and most powerful waterfalls in Mexico).
I have 4 days left on my visa but it’s only a day of riding to the border. I’m going to have to ride between the storms over the few days as I head up into the Guatemalan mountains (a lot of bad weather coming this way). I think they’re over 3000 metres so LOTS of climbing coming up!

Punta Perula to Puerto Escondido

The last couple of months in Mexico have been a bit less of a hardcore biking challenge (aside from the occasional days cycling  in 35 C degrees up and down the hilly coastline) and I find myself increasingly taking longer breaks from the bike in places that are almost impossible to leave.  I think this has happened for a few reasons. Firstly, after long periods of solitude on the bike, forging bonds with people for more than one day seems to be very highly valued. Leaving and breaking these bonds is predictably painful. Secondly after months of non-stop cycling and camping in mountains, snow and wilderness, being able to stop somewhere for more than one night is exceptionally appealing and hard to resist; particularly when I know that the alternative is 35 C degrees of heat with fast Mexican traffic. Thirdly, I enjoy being able to reflect on the experiences I’ve had and what the future holds. Sometimes I’ll right down my insights and philosophies that come to me on the bike. As the days goes past I can feel myself changing as my priorities in life gradually shift.

I want to make Tierra Del Fuego by the end of this year and I know I’ll be penalised for my breaks later but I want to make the most of these places; who knows if I’ll ever be here again (the world is big and there are infinite other places to see).

Instead of going through the laborious detail of the last few months (much has happened) here are some of the highlights in the order they happened:

– staying in an amazing apartment with Razvan in Manzanillo; staying with Iván and a fun night out in Lázaro Cardenas; surfing awesome waves/ staying with Pedro in Troncones. Thank you so much to all of you.

- epic surfing, fast endless left hand walls of water at  Nexpa. Also, amazing sessions at: La Ticla, The Ranch (near Troncones).

- 2 weeks in Acapulco with the Reyes family. Generously they gave me my own apartment, took me to La Quebrada cliff diving, fixed my tooth and overfed me but what I will treasure most is spending time with such kind and fun people (and Rocco eating my flip flops).

- Seeing all the amazing beaches and bungy jumping in Acapulco with Diana!

- Mexican fiestas and fantastic hospitality with Bulmaro and Ulises in Copala. Being forced to dance in front of 80 people with the only other single woman. And again being massively overfed!

- More exceptional hospitality with the cousins of the Reyes family at Casa Aldegundo in Huaxpaltepac; visiting their ‘rancho’ and eating coconuts with Emanuel and Francisco.

- Oaxaca – the incredible ruins at Monte Alban, jaw dropping views at Hierve el Agua (worth the drive), widest tree in the world, Spanish lessons with Celso at Amigos del Sol and staying with José Alfredo  who gave up his bed for me! (ask for the Pedro Cardinez Bike shop in Oaxaca; there’s also another shop (Zona Bici) just southeast of the zócalo which is very well stocked – the first Mexican bicycle shop to have my shoe size!).

- seeing Luke from Australia surf the world famous Puerto Escondido – the Mexican equivalent to Hawaiian ‘pipeline’ – on his own, catching a monster wave and escaping the barrel. Size: triple overhead. (good bicycle shop: ask for Bici Tello in Puerto (I think it’s called, near Mercado Benito Juárez), great friendly service and cheap).

- Mazunte – currently here overstaying my intended time frame yet again. Camping at La Isla hostal – good spot on the beach.

Puerto Vallarta: continuing south

Finally I managed to leave Sayulita after spending longer than I anticipated in the quaint little surf town. Days pass by without you noticing and it took a fair bit of willpower to move on. As I head down the coast this is becoming a stronger theme in my trip; each place I come to seems to have it’s own appeal and attraction. Although I have a fair bit of time to play with I need to watch the days somewhat since there’s a good chance I’ll be in Central America in summer. Mexico has been hot enough in winter…

Puerto Vallarta was no exception and I managed to clock up a week in this interesting tourist city. A mix of beautiful beaches and mountain backdrops attracts a significant tourist culture to the main malecón / beachfront. It also manages to maintain a very local Mexican community segregated from the tourist areas, where it would be rare to see a ‘gringo’. This is where Phillipa lives who kindly looked after me during my time in PV.

Puerto Vallarta

Philippa moved out to PV from England eleven years ago and set up New Life Mexico; a charity that supports “vulnerable children and young people in Mexico through social, health and education programmes”.  Philippa helps the people that need it most and has dedicated all her time and energy in poverty stricken areas changing the lives of many. Often with considerable risk to her own personal safety, those without hope have been given opportunities that would have been impossible without her.  More information on her work for New Life Mexico can be found here. Please donate if this is something that resonates with you; this is a lean charity with minimal overheads and every penny is put to good use.

New friends in Puerto Vallarta: I even managed to sneak in a game of football with Ivan and Tony. I made a guest appearance for 10 minutes at the end of a tournament match. I think I touched the ball twice but it was fun to be out paying with the locals. Ivan’s team won 4-1.

Río Cuale proved to be an interesting mtb side trip: just follow the river up from town for some dirt road elevation

I went with a new bicycle friend heading north: Ginger. Her blog is here: http://flamingbike.wordpress.com/

New Life Mexico: my family in Puerto Vallarta

I felt sadness when it became time to leave; I’d made some great friends and in some ways this of the hardest part of a trip like this. Always moving on, I wish I could somehow take people with me.

The climb out of Puerto Vallarta resulted in a non-trivial 750 metre change in elevation on a day that was touching 30 degrees Celsius. I managed to time it perfectly with the midday sun resulting in a massive loss of water and electrolytes. Two powerades and a packet of crisps later, I headed west off the main highway down a quiet dirt track to Playa Maito. A beautiful surf beach near a small town, it was a great intro back into my trip after my long stay in the comfort of Philippa’s home.

Looking for somewhere to camp, I found the beautiful Hotel Mayto where Rodrigo let me camp by his restaurant. After such a hot day, the swimming pool was very tempting but I was covered in sun cream and sweat so I opted for the shower. Yet another amazing campspot on the ocean, I slept peacefully and had to force myself to leave wishing I could spend more time there. Next time I hope to be in a position to take a room overlooking the Pacific and mesmerising beach with its impressive mountain backdrop.

The beach at Maito

The dirt road continued the next day down to La Cruz de Loreto passing long empty sandy beaches intertwined with dense vegetation and jungle and the occasional small village where people lazed around in the sweltering sun. I had planned to go through La Gloria but the locals strongly advised against it. My limited Spanish made it difficult to grasp why but they thought it would be dangerous for me; I think they said the people were dangerous but I wasn’t clear. Five of them stood round talking to me at once speaking very quickly so I could only pick one in five words.

More dirt

Following their advice I headed quickly down the flat road with the wind behind me to the main highway (200) and after a few more sports drinks punched out another 70 kms to Punta Perula (near Chamela) totalling 120 kms for the day. I’m now on my second day at Red Snapper campground lying on the hammock with the refreshing sea breeze. A huge sandy beach and very peaceful, this is another place I’m finding hard to leave.

Tent repair: something that I ripped in my sleep! A follow camper kindly helped repair.

The beach at Punta Perula…

Cycling in the scorching heat and beach time! Mazatlan to Sayulita.

I´ve been spending the last week in a nice little surf town called Sayulita.  Although somewhat touristy it has a good vibe to it and has proven to be another excellent place to have some time off the bike.

The trip down from Mazatlan was interesting.  The first few days I was with Billy and we pushed some reasonable kilometres even though we experienced unusually high temperatures; always meaning to start early, we inevitably left later and were punished by the scorching midday sun.

Our first night we stayed in Escuinapa, a nice little town where everyone was exceptionally friendly.  This may be in part because they rarely get any tourists but also because bicycles are a major use of transport around town; so I think they took special appreciation to our trip.  Due to limited budgets for such a long journey, Billy took the initiative of asking to sleep in the town hall (although we initially thought it was a police station due to high police presence).  Tony and Carlos, who worked for the President of the town, took us out and very kindly bought us dinner.  I mainly sat there watching Billy talk Spanish to them; I think I managed to decipher one word every ten minutes.  We slept in the president´s boardroom.

The gold bicycle in the main plaza; a pivotal part of the community.

Moody and very hot; over 30 degrees C.  Tough going on some of the hills.

After Escuinapa, we pounded out a not-unreasonable 130km or so to Ruiz.  Exhausted and slightly feverish we found an exceptionally low budget hotel.  Badly in need of work, I´ll spare the details but this place was pretty filthy and by far the grimmest of the trip.  The town was interesting and again we were somewhat of a novelty since no tourists ever really go here which meant for some interesting conversations. It amused me to be there, only by bicycle would I ever have been in such a place.

The next night we stayed in San Blas and after that we stopped at a reasonably pleasant little beach full of beach restaurants called Platanos.

Platanos beach:  Billy and I paid 25 pesos (~$2 each) to camp in this run down building at the end of the beach.  Great view but the bugs proved a bit of an issue and I wouldn´t recommend camping there  (unless this was a bad year for some reason).  Tiny bugs that are small enough to crawl through the mesh of a mosquito net mean a poor night´s sleep.  Packing up in the morning was also somewhat tedious getting attacked by thousands of these little insects.  It was a relief to get back on the road where I said bye to Billy and headed to Sayulita where I´ve spent the last few days.

Camping on this beach just north of Sayulita

Breakfast: eggs and bacon, pancakes, yoghurt and fruit.

This place is a time sink; days just slip through your fingers without you noticing.Nicely shaded camping; good for getting out of the midday sun.

It´s been a great opportunity to reflect on how good things really are.

I guess I´ll leave Sayulita eventually.  The only thing I wish I had here is my surf board.  The sound of the ocean at night is loud and it can be relaxing but also thought provoking.  I have a neighbour on the beach who keeps reminding me we´re on the San Andreas faultline but any worries disappear almost as quickly as they’re said.  The occasional day I cycle the ´long´ 15 minutes to town to get supplies, the rest are spent studying Spanish and watching the rare person come onto the beach on foot or horseback.  There´s a spot marked off where some turtles have laid eggs, perhaps they’ll hatch when I´m here…

Photos: crossing the Sea of Cortez

The details of my experience on this crossing are on a previous post which ended up being too long to post photos. So here are some of the photos.

Leaving La Paz

My cabin

The night shift

Jeff and Nancy towing us in. My heroes. The world needs more people like them.

View from the house in Mazatlan

Harbour entrance

Final seconds of a Mazatlan sunset. Olas Atlas beach.

High drama sailing across the Sea of Cortez

Finally I am on dry land after a highly adrenalised sailing trip across the Gulf of California. Things went wrong from day one and I was almost surprised to have made it to dry land.

Since my last post in Loreto, things had been delightfully boring; a chance to reflect on the trip so far and enjoy some downtime. I spent New Year’s Eve in Ciudad Constitución with Billy. Not an obvious place for new year celebrations, but we were caught in the desert and this was the closest reasonably sized town to where we were.

All the bars were empty or closed until after 1.30 a.m. as everyone stayed in with their families celebrating. At 12.30 a.m. we gave up and headed home only to be picked up by some local Mexican girls circuiting the town in their car. After some initial banter (something about ‘chingonos’)  they invited us to join them; not wanting to be rude we got in. We drove round with them for an hour or so listening to music; they spoke so fast I couldn’t understand a word, throwing their empty cans out the window muttering it would be cleaned up tomorrow. A common theme in Baja it would seem judging by the amount of roadside rubbish.

A couple of days later we made it to La Paz where Billy got the ferry across to Mazatlan. I wanted to sail across so I headed down to the Marina and broadcast a message on the radio to all the local boats moored up. I waited and half an hour later a couple came up to me offering me a lift across the 250 mile stretch of water in their 39 foot single hull sailing boat.

We headed out last Wednesday for Puerto Vallarta. The engine failed on the first evening. Heading between the island and Baja, these waters were still relatively busy even at nighttime; it was a moonless night and virtually pitch black. Sailing under virtually no wind we were almost becalmed. In the distance I could see light coming towards us; I alerted the owner.  As it approached it became clear that it was a large fishing vessel heading straight for us. Pleading with the owner to push the boat to port he insisted to continue on the same heading saying we right of way.  I implored him to radio the vessel to alert it to our presence: there was no response. 200 metres, 100 metres, 50 metres, the vessel kept coming. I shouted for the flares and said I was turning to port. At which point the vessel started turning. A scary moment which set the theme for the trip across.

The next morning, because the wind was so light we had not travelled far and were still near Baja so I requested that we turn back saying I was uncomfortable to continue. The owner reasoned he was going to sail across anyhow so the engine was superfluous; we continued on across a 200 mile fetch with no engine power to rely on if something went wrong.

The first couple of days were quite calm and windless, progress was slow. Teams of inquisitive dolphins surrounded the boat on a couple of occasions.  (I’ve heard some people seeing thousands of them at a time in the same sea).  Taking the helm at night was amazing, it was a surreal place to be; the bright stars and phosphorescence on the bow waves added to the experience. I mused on the fact that we were 100% dependent for life on the boat, up to 100 nautical miles from land.  I found myself drawing parallels with being on a spaceship; to fall in the sea here would be the end. Sleeping down below, other parties wouldn’t know for hours.  It became a struggle to stay awake at the end of the 4 hour shifts. Set on autopilot, every 10 minutes I’d stick my head up and search for lights on the horizon and I would wake the owner on the very rare occasion I’d see something.

Night three brought with it a change in weather. The wind started to really pick up and by the morning I was being chucked about in my cabin as the boat lurched up and down and side to side in a violent motion. I harnessed myself onto the only thing available, a fragile hatch, to save me being thrown onto the floor.

The wind was around 20 knots and the sea becoming rougher and rougher. Steep waves with short wave lengths meant uncomfortable sailing and a tendency to sea sickness.  I stayed on deck as much as possible, even a few minutes below looking at the charts had me feeling unpleasantly nauseous.

The time came to turn the boat onto a different tack.  The waves repeatedly pushed us back as we tried to tack so we decided to gybe instead; an easier yet more aggressive method of turning the boat. The sail swung round violently and incredibly broke the traveller that attached the boom to the deck. This meant the boom was totally free and lethally swinging a full 90 degrees back and forth on port (left) side. In addition the sail had ripped. As the owner took down the sail, I had to do something about the boom so waited for it to swing back, grabbing the preventer (a rope attached to it) and wrapped it around a cleat as fast as I could. All the while the boat was rocking severely with the rough seas but finally it was secure!  Meanwhile, the owner managed to pull down the sail and tie it down.

With only one sail, no mainsail, no engine, 20 knots, rough seas, dwindling water supplies and limited sailing experience between us I persuaded the owner to go to the nearest port: Mazatlan. 30 nautical miles away, I pointed the boat as far upwind as possible. The waves pushed us sideways and for a time I wasn’t sure if we would make enough ground upwind (it was harder with just the jib / front sail).

As we sailed to harbour I felt very concerned; I strongly suggested we reach out to the port captain as early as possible and get a tow into the harbour. With our experience level, how could we possibly safely negotiate a gusty tricky harbour entrance with the threat of large ferries and tankers going back and forward on just a jib? I just knew we wouldn’t be able to and my mind couldn’t compute how we could possibly make it safely to land.

We initially tried to anchor at a place called Isla Venados just off the coast of Mazatlan. As we approached the island my heart was in my mouth and I was relieved when he decided to go to the main harbour. I assumed we’d get a tow from near the entrance but he insisted that we’d sail in. I confronted him  telling him it was madness but he was stubbornly sticking to sailing in. I tried to highlight the risks: what about the ferries / tankers?

As we turned the headland to enter the harbour, the wind totally dropped and started blowing the other side of the jib pushing us dangerously close to the rocks. Then the wind settled a bit and I headed on course for the entrance on a beam reach (right angles to the wind). He then ordered me to bear away so we’d have a better angle of approach. I sensed that this would make it impossible to enter the harbour so not really understanding his plan I gave him the helm. Sure enough as we approached the entrance it was very clear we were too far downwind and heading right for the rocks. I’d shouted at him to turn round and he ignored me. 30 metres away, I begged him to turn before he didn’t have the opportunity. He kept going. Finally at around 15 metres, he turned about. This whole scenario happened again and I was starting to really wonder how this would end.

Just when I’d almost given up hope, our saviours arrived in the form of Jeff and Nancy. Risking their own necks they came out to save us.  Jeff was at the helm skilfully circling us whilst Nancy tried to throw us a tow rope. We caught it on around the 5th time and the owner tried to tie it to the boat, but failed and got his finger caught (which broke his finger). Finally on about the 7th time we successfully secured the rope and Jeff and Nancy began towing us through the harbour entrance. The rope was short so if Jeff stopped we would almost certainly crash into him. However, clearly a very capable man, he safely brought us into harbour and we dropped anchor.

Yet it was not over, the owner refused to take me to shore that evening so I was forced one more night in the boat. It was very windy so I half expected the anchor to slip and to be woken  up by the noise of us ploughing into the harbour wall. Finally a local came to the rescue with their dinghy in the morning and brought me safely to shore. I can’t tell you how good that felt.

Amazingly it turned out that Billy was still in Mazatlan staying in a beautiful house with a pool and ocean views; Bill, the owner, very generously let him stay even though he was in the US. So I joined him and have had some much needed downtime over the past few days.

The beach! Time off the bike in Baja

Writing this from Loreto, Baja.

Finally after months of racing south I’ve had some time to relax.  The past 10 days have been delightfully quiet riding only a couple of short days; time to reflect on my trip so far and work out my passage through Central America and then the Darien Gap. This is virtually impassable land between Central and South America, as you may know; plane, boat or kayak around it are the only viable options for me (the latter would take a fair bit of organising and there are multiple hazards to consider, to put it mildly). More on this later.

It’s also been an opportunity to learn some Spanish. Progress with the language has felt slow at times; it seems that unless I say the word in exactly the right way, they can’t guess what I’m saying. But it normally ends in a laugh or two.

After months of good behaviour and no drinking, Billy and I had planned to head out to some of the bars in Loreto on Christmas Eve. Turned out to be the quietest night of the year and the bars were totally empty. Don’t plan your stag party here.

Overall I’ve really enjoyed being immersed in a new culture and the huge change from cycling down the Continental Divide on my own has added a new spark to the trip.

Morning sunrise at El Coyote

3 mm scorpion

Arriving at Loreto

Mexico border and beyond

Currently sitting in a cheap hotel sharing a room with two other cyclists halfway down Baja California (Mexico), I finally have a moment to relax. Lots has happened since my last post but it’s been hard to keep up to date as I’ve had to rush to the next stage of my trip.

The final two weeks from Cuba (NM) of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route were very dry and mostly desert with phenomenal rock outcrops and formations; terrain I’d been dreaming of before starting this trip up in Alaska. To be finally riding through it was an immensely enjoyable experience and I tried to savour each moment before the inevitable ending at the Mexico border.

I also had a week off the bike in Silver City (NM) at Jamie’s ‘bike house’ and I took time to consider the next stage of my trip. I really enjoyed the break from the bike after pushing myself so hard for so long to get through the higher mountain sections and onset of winter. A very warm and friendly community, it was great to have the opportunity to make some new friends after such long periods of solitude.



Monica saved me when I left my phone in a roadside burrito shack 20 miles back in town

Once I’d reached the Mexican border town of Columbus (NM) I decided that I wanted a break from the cold desert and mountain nights so headed west to San Diego where I joined two other cycle tourists who had come down the Pacific Coast. Since they were waiting for me I decided to take the bus instead of cycling, I’ll have to visit Arizona another time. (The greyhound bus turned into a bit of an ordeal and I was glad to finally arrive with my bike intact; not a mode of transport I’d recommend).

After a couple of nights of rejuvenation with my wonderful cousins in San Diego, we set off across the Mexican border. Having all been cycling solo up until then it was refreshing to have company. The roads in Tjuana and the first few hundred kilometres were some of the most treacherous I’d cycled in my whole trip; cycling as a team seemed to mitigate this risk somewhat. As we’ve headed south the traffic has thinned out a lot, much to our relief, and we’ve been rewarded with some phenomenal desert country with huge variation in cacti and other plantlife.  The road continues south…

First Mexico night camp view in Rosario

Setting up camp

Mechanical issues

Tim (Canada) – taking a break

Billy (Ireland) – a reminder for caution in the desert!

New Mexico. The end in sight? Del Norte to Cuba

Finally, the end of the Great Divide mountain Biking trail is in sight; I now only have 500 miles or so left to the Mexican border. Although there are a few high passes left, most have now been ticked off as I edge to safer territory for the approaching winter months.

I left Del Norte (CO) in high spirits having been very well looked after by Gary and Pat; two cycle touring enthusiasts that have a strong emphasis on mountain biking and lightweight travel. I hoped that perhaps I could take a leaf out of their book and learn to travel in a more minimalist fashion. For the next next 23 miles out of Del Norte up Indiana Pass it was an appealing concept, as I struggled up the long steep gravel road and an elevation change of 4000 feet with four days of food on over-laden bicycle.

Indiana Pass: it was a good feeling to reach the top since it is the highest point on the whole trip at 11910 feet. Fortunately, there was no snow at the time.

Half the day gone during the climb, I ended up pushing myself to get to a recognised campspot (Lake Fork) just after Platoro only to find it closed as I am so late in the season. Since I was tired I sneaked in anyway and set my camp up in the dark having the whole campground to myself.

Day two from Del Norte: entering New Mexico; the final state on the Great Divide trail. A good feeling.

Day three: Brazos Ridge (in the evening then just before sunrise). The effort to get up there was worth it.

But don’t go there when it’s raining; the road becomes impassable…

Day four: I reached Abiquiu in the afternoon and headed up another huge ascent, camping just shy of the top. The road was rocky and sandy and proved to be extremely hard work after a long day; it was also surprisingly hot.

Packing up before day break, well below freezing; the shortening days mean having to make the most of every minute of daylight.

After camping in a beautiful setting overlooking Cerro Perdernal mountain, I endured a roller coaster of a ride down to Cuba over excessively rocky terrain. There was an unexpected 46 mile stretch of no water that mildly concerned me as I was losing a lot and every creek I came to was covered in grass (from mile 149 to 195).  I expect to have similar experiences for the rest of my time in New Mexico.

Empty cattle tank; highly disappointing

Parched earth

After arriving in Cuba, I decided to wait out a couple of days whilst a nasty looking storm approached. I left my bike at the Cuban Motel and headed into Santa Fe for some beers and to stay with my cousin Steve. It was a thoroughly enjoyable break from the bike.

I’m now enjoying a rare night in a motel. I would highly recommend a visit to the Cuban; Flora and Marcos went beyond the call of duty for me. They fed me, looked after my kit and drove 50 miles to the train station at Sandoval County so I could get the slick new Rail Runner train system to Santa Fe ($8). The other option is to get a bus to the train station but timings can be awkward with the transfer.

I’m told the next 119 miles to Grants are supposed to be some of the most incredible on the whole Great Divide route. An impressive claim indeed on a trail of such beauty and diversity.

I’m now minus a beard; hopefully it doesn’t get too cold before Mexico…