Days 11 and 12: Sockhands and Bagfoot

And now we are in the world of cacti. How quickly the biospheres change around here. From tropical rainforest, to pines, to oaks, to now dry prickly landscape. We've been riding from Jalpan to Rayon these days.

Crossing a river on route 69, impressively windy, blowing us nearly sideways. The wind ripped through a sharp canyon and the trees danced.

One of the five UNESCO site missions of Saint Francis in the area. So intricate outside and good for praying for your family on the inside. 

The second widest tree in all of Mexico! I'm sure it's more than 500 years old.

I'm trying to give it a hug here. The first widest tree is in Oaxaca and all official and signed and with a protective fence. But this one was open to anyone to hug, hard to find, though it was on some tourist maps of the area, hidden back in a community park in a small dusty town with bad roads. Two boys were parked in their SUV near it, playing reggaeton, drinking Coronas, and eating candy. What a bizarre atmosphere for such a revered ancient living thing! 

We're no longer going up huge mountain hunks, but inside going up and down big rollers now, on Route 69 and Route 8. 

Our hotel in Arroyo Secco (literally, "dry stream bed") won the certificate of being Grossest Hotel Room Yet. Being the only hotel in town, and the only town within reach for the day, there we were. This photo is an ant hill in our room. Not shown are the long black hairs around the floor, the dead moth and cockroach, and the bed with only a clingy blanket and no sheet. As I fell asleep I heard gentle crinkly munchy noises, so faint, but could find no evidence of life. Until I realized that the walls were full of chewing creatures. 

Riding through this barren landscape the past two days. The clouds were so droopy that we were riding today bathed in mist, droplets coming off my helmet wetly. Only rarely did cars pass us, but they still turned on their four-way flashers and gave us little waves and encouraging honk-lets as they overtook us.

Today I was called Bagfoot and sometimes Sockhands. It was so inexplicably cold (mid 50s) and wet and grey that even the locals were complaining about it. This is how one gets to dress when one packs so incorrigibly light. 

Climbing into a big properly made warm bed, in a bright and clean room, was heaven after today.