Day 46

Up before dawn, once again. The AC had kept a white noise drone all night and the one window now had a tinge of yellow coming between the shades instead or pure white from the streetlights. I sat on the banister eating my granola out of the pot lid and watched the goings and comings of a few people in the courtyard. When we were all packed we rolled our bikes out the door and to the gate where we gave the guard our keys. We talked for a minute and we told him we were headed to Puertecitos. "Ojalá que los coyotes no tienan hambre," was his response (I hope the coyotes aren't hungry). Out in the street there was hardly anyone and the shops were boarded up still. We took a left at the main roundabout and made our way South. It had a bit of a 'moment of truth' feeling as we've been asking people for nearly 5 days what this road is like. It was mediocre to start, very choppy with sand intruding at both sides. There were a good deal of potholes, filled and unfilled, but we made our way steadily. 

After we got a ways out of town it actually got much better and we moved quickly along. New mountain ranges appeared, stacked one behind the other, fading down the penninsula. The sea became a radiant light blue, fitting of the name of street we had turned onto in San Felipe: " El Camino Mar de Caribe." Big cactuses began to appear, the tall ones with two arms, you know the ones.

Every so often the road would dip suddenly where an arroyo would pass over the road. At one of these, a jokester had painted three successive words in white on the pavement as you might see in a bus lane: OH  SHIT  DIP.

We rested by another abandoned roadside bar. Shortly after there was road construction on a bridge and there was a dirt and gravel road that went around. We took it, skidding a little bit in the sand and our gear bouncing wildly with the rocks. Then in 300 meters there was another bridge construction. Then in 500, another. There must have been 20 of them or more. We put together that they were the bridges that were washed out in the cyclone last winter. All of the road between bridges was new as well, and it was a big operation, with many workers at each bridge, though they all seemed to be resting in the shade when we came upon them. They were right to, it was hot. Really dog gone hot. We were sweating immesurably, and there was no way we could keep up with water. There was a headache that lingered, like a high pitch that wouldn't go away. It made you not want to focus on anything, made everything uncomfortable, and all your motions sloppy and weak. We knew we were getting dehydrated but there was no where to stop. The small trees there had been by the road had all disappeared and not even the cactuses remained. It was all pure rock and sand with dry scrubby grasses bunched here and there. When we finally saw a big billboard (advertising the road construction effort by the Mexican government) we rested in the rectangular shade it cast.

Finally we saw a bar by the highway with the word "Cowpatty" painted on the side. Nearby a few scattered motorhomes were parked semi-permanently by the water. We went in, to find the place decorated with your typical ex-pat motorhead memorabilia: pieces of cars, license plates, roadsigns, lewd jokes disguised as rules on placards by the barstools, and blown up pufferfish and shark jaws hanging from the ceiling. It was one of the "gringos only" kind if establishments we have begun to notice. No where does it say it, but it's an obvious rule. We got some water there but really didn't want to stay, so we went on a little ways to the town of Puertecitos.

It was tucked behind a hill around a small bay, and most of the homes looked like trailers that had been built around or somehow modified beyond their original intent. Nothing looked green down there. Nothing looked open. But we found the dirt road and bobbled down into town.

Not a soul appeared. A "sleepy town" would be incorrect. It was dead. Finally we roused a gas station attendent who told us the store down the way had water. At the store, a man stood  outside singing and mumbling to himself. We went in and a young woman cleanly dressed helped us with the hose. Her english was good. She was happy to help and said she had met cyclists here before. We asked how much for the water and she offered to give it to us for free if we could do her a favor. She has a bike with a flat and an extra tube but no tools to change it. No problem. She lead us back behind the shop to her home past an angry dog on a chain. I fixed it for her and she told us about her dream to ride to Panama. She was even pullung together gear to do it but didn't have the right bike yet. Charming to hear her talk about it and we were as encouraging as we could be, tired and dirty as we looked.

The heat was still blazing so we asked where we could blow a few hours in the shade. "There's a good beach I go to over behind the house over there." She pointed. "Just keep your bikes in sight. There are fishermen here, not violent, but they know I like bikes and they might want to sell me your stuff." We found the spot, ate something, splashed some water on ourselves and layed on the rough lava rocks. It was a dazed kind of feeling, to be on your back by such a strange little ocean, still lightheaded from the heat. I came to after I'm not sure how long and saw Lluc in the water.

The woman at the store had offered us to stay with her, but we decided to go find our own place on the shore. This town had a strange feeling, and a quiet place on the beach with no one to bother us sounded good. We rode only 5 km further and found it. A little cove with a beach of little black pebbles and a small hill that obscured part of it from the road.

We set up and Lluc laid down while I walked around. From the top of the rocky mound I could see the islands to the south of us and the mountains of the penninsula close by, all with glowing ridges in the setting sun. I stood in the water with its gentle waves, the water warm as a swimming pool, and found a shell in the shape of a corkscrew by my feet. A few albatross glided by. This place was mystical.

We took our time making dinner and the moon was late to ride. In the meantime the stars are aglow and a few coyotes howled nearby. Hope they're not hungry, we ate all the rice and beans.