a thousand turns

As soon as we reach the highway, after twelve miles of dirt road, we are forced to contemplate the frightening prospect of sharing a narrow highway, with no shoulder, with giant trucks. The constant stream of huge rigs thundering by is terrifying.

A looming rig on the narrow, shoulderless, road.

We contemplate the map, fruitlessly searching for an alternative route.

A potential contest between bike and truck is hopelessly unequal.

We spy a roadside cafe in the distance and retreat indoors to gather courage.

Trucks rule here, too.

The chicken pen is dwarfed by another giant rig.

Even indoors the respite is only partial. Trucks feature here, too.

Fortified by burritos, we venture outside again to take on the behemoths. We ride only a short way down the road before Oscar, our friend from the border appears. He has passed by the immigration office in Janos on his way home, only to be reminded that tomorrow is a fiesta, followed by the weekend. This means that we would spend three days illegally in Mexico, since our entrance still hasn’t been officially registered, and so he offers to drive us back to the border, with our bikes, to process our papers and then drop us back on the highway. Eventually it is agreed that Jeff and Cass will accompany Oscar back to the border post with our passports while Jason and I wait on the highway minding the bikes, chatting and admiring the sky.

After an hour or so Jeff and Cass return with our passports in order with a generous allowance of 180 days to spend in Mexico. We ride on and as dusk falls we spot a gate that we can wiggle under with our bikes and head into the scrub to make camp and watch our first Mexican sunset.

Mexican sunset...

... over the mountains.

Jeff in his mosquito net cocoon at dawn.