Ciudad Constitucion to San Evaristo
So we’re all freshened up, fed, rested, and ready to hit the road. We roll out of town Boxing Day morning, going from main boulevard to side street to dirt road.
I thought Leigh had mentioned something about the route going past the local dump. I had imagined the road skirting a land fill area. Instead we rode right through it, piles of smouldering trash lining the way. It was nothing short of apocolyptic. Every sense was affected, and not in a good way.
All in the first hour.
By noon the heat was in the mid-thirties. We were climbing gradually for most of the day, nothing crazy and a lot of it was our favorite kind of terrain: wall to wall washboard.
The one thing that made it all worth while was that we were headed back to the Sea of Cortez.
I think I might have been a mermaid in another life.
We camped in el centro of Misión San Luis Gonzagas.
This church was abandoned long ago and is barely holding it together although some of the locals – direct descendants of those who helped build it – have reoccupied various areas. An interesting effect.
After a morning coffee – nothing happens before coffee – and a round of my soon-to-be-not-so-famous breakfast burritos, we broke camp.
The route now took us through the Sierra de la Giganta. We were surrounded on all sides by monstrous towers of solid rock. Naturally, the topography became much less forgiving. The flatter sections were fewer and often soft sand but most of the day was spent climbing or descending our way along severely rutted roads strewn with small, sharp boulders. Oh
, and today was hotter than yesterday. Just sayin’.
There were a few small gatherings of homes, not quite villages or even hamlets but enough to warrant a name on a sign. We stopped at most of them to ask about food and water.
Late in the day, the answer was finally, “Si, para allá.” And they had cold beer. Smack dab in the middle of nowhere. We loaded up and rode a little further to spend another amazing night sleeping in…you guessed it…the desert.
Now, with only thrity-seven measely kilometres to go, we were thinking about Coke, chips & salsa, and a swim. But those thirty-seven measely kilometres would hurt.
Today’s ride was one of the toughest of the entire trip. We were forced to pay attention to every passing detail because if something went wrong it would go really wrong. Don’t get me wrong, it is beautiful out there and we are more prepared than most for remote backcountry riding but a rip in the tire wall is a major repair that could lead to an unanticipated extra night and water was scarce. Who needs that kind of stress? We took a lot of breaks and ended up walking the bikes often. Too sketchy to ride. Or too steep. Or both. Safety first, people.
We finally got past the last range of hills to have the beautiful Sea of Cortez appear before our very eyes.
The thirteen kilometres of descent into the coastal town of San Evaristo should have been a celebratory event. It was a white knuckler all the way down. I had to cool off our brakes with precious water more than once. My rear brakes wore out. Some of the pitches were so steep my front brakes couldn´t hold the bike from accelerating. More walking.
Leigh and I talked about the past three days over dinner on the beach; the ways we had been challenged, the contrast between how utterly tough the riding was and the constant panorama of majestic scenery, and how great it felt to have conquered that route.
Next stop: La Paz
