Day 60

Un gran día.

Even though the dog took a liking to my tent and kept trying to sleep on it while I was in it, I slept fairly well and crawled out in the little tent village of the garage to begin the day.

I put a load of laundry in and asked Tuly where there was a Birriería nearby. Our whole time in Baja I've been seeing signs for these on the roadside, but when I've tried to get it before, I was told "only in the morning." Apparently it's a popular hangover food. There was one down the street, so packed my backpack for the day and hit the town.

There was no one in Birriería Don Gilo, but they served me the good stuff. Essentially it's a meat soup, without much else in it "carne en su jugo" as one would say (literally, 'meat in its own juice'), served with warm tortillas and some fresh onions and cilantro. You can make some very drippy tacos from it, and it's all a very slurpy affair, but it was tasty. Check that one off the list.




I walked to the centro from the neighborhood I was in, perhaps 2 or 3 km and found the plaza with the mission. A nice spot but they were're doing construction so I tound another spot to pass the time. I had heard hotel Yeneka was a fun place to check out, so I found it on a curvy street in downtown. It was like entering a slow motion explosion of a junkyard. There was collected stuff hanging everywhere. A fine spot to spend a while in the shade of the courtyard and play I spy with myself.


At noon I was to meet Ana Suarez of the Environmental Defence Fund in Mexico, at their office, which appeared at first like a little home surrounded by downtown buildings. We had a great talk about her work and issues and successes in the La Paz area, all of which you can read more about in a later post. When I walked in she expected me to be older, and when I told her how old I was she was even more, but that was all fine and she had reflections on the ocean that resounded with the others I've heard, but with original worrs that make the themes ever clearer and more real. Also the first person I've spoken to that turned one of my questions around and asked me what the ocean meant to me. Started me thinking on how much reflecting and digesting I'll have to do at road's end... She even gave me a recommendation for a good place to get an authentic lonche. Nice.


Feeling full of good ocean vibes, I walked down to the Malecon and who should I run into but Martin and Patrick, my swiss friends from Loreto. They were on their way to spend a few rest days with friends in Los Cabos before hoping the ferry to the mainland and continuing on. It was a pleasant feeling to be recognized in such an unfamiliar place. We cyclist shade so many of the same aches and pains, joys and triumphs, that it hardly matters if they could be my parents and are from a place I've never been. Bien viaje.





I got a postcard and mailed it at the post office where I learned a new word: buzón (the mail slot). The lochería was McFisher's. It had the "three B's" said Ana: "bueno, bonito, y barrato (good, pretty and cheap)." "You can say Anita sent you."

I got the Caguamanta, another item I've been on the lookout for. A tradicional soup made of Mantaray. Originally it had been made of sea turtle, but thanks to stromg conservation campaigns and government regulation, that's been phased out. An interesting example of how cultural foodways can adapt to fishery management... It was phenomenal, but the real treat was the Burro Maya: a tortilla with refried beams and a boiled bell pepper stuffed with Marlin, with a slice of hard, grilled cheese on top, with the usual dressings (pico and salsa). Out of this world good. The roving minstrel playing anerican rock n roll hits translated to spanish on a beater acoustic guitar added to the flavor.

I wasn't sure of how the home stretch would play out, and with the added freedom of doing it alone, there were many decisions to be made. After some hefty phone researching, I settled on taking the eastern route to Los Barriles and down to San Jose del Cabo before finally making the finish line at "Land's end" at the "Arco de Cabo San Lucas." A 2 and a half day's ride, and I felt simultabously drawn to get to the end and also to just keep riding and enjoy it, so I settled on 3 shorter days with the option of a rest day if I felt like it. Cabo Pulmo was tempting to the far East, but the road was no bueno according to various sources, so it was the good ole Mexi 1, Carretera Transpenninsular to the very end.



With that settled, I shopped for food at a small Abarrotes in the Pueblo Nuevo neighborhood, south of downtown. The fella there saw me staring at the aisle of rice, pasta and beans, and tried to help me decide what to make for dinner. "Garbanzos! Muy buena proteina!" Takes too long, I told him. "Lentajes! Más rapido! Más proteina!" Sold.





Back at Tuly's house more cyclists had shown up. It was a real halfway house. I wrote in her log book and noticed the tally was up to 497 entries. They were serious. Pretty darn cool that people are so game to help other folks on their travels in exchange for only brief friendship and conversation.

I made dinner for myself and ate around the table with the ladies of Holland, Finland, and New Zealand respectively. How funny stories they had. A pleasure to spend two nights with these new friends, something rare in the world of the bike tourist. Bed time, and tomorrow, the beginning of the end!

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