Valle de Yaqui

Biking is a wonderful feeling. Biking into pueblitos of decayed brick structures, adobe homes, bare footprints in the dirt and 30 Yaqui children running after you is something altogether different. It´s grounding, more real than real. We often have to greet and spend quite a bit of time with all the kids from whatever village we stop at. We´re an oddity - and odd things attract attention, as well as ever more oddness. Wierd, wonderful things happen almost every day. Biking across a landbridge that appears on no map to happen upon a beautiful island hotspring is a recent example. Kicking it with the road construction crews that are impressed that (a) we biked here from Tucson and (b) that we just slid across their recently wetted mud street. The guy driving the grater, Jose Luis, deserved a badge (BBSB).

My wheel is going to fail. Very soon, I´m affraid. I´m up to 4 broken spokes, a couple nipples ripping their way through my rim and a stripped out hub. Barely holding it together, but I´m happy with overall performance from (newly dubbed) Osita (the bike).

Some amazing photos should be up today.