168 miles

The universe wanted to test me again today. The punches came raining down, but I think I have weathered the storm, for the moment. When I begin this trip, I thought that I would get progressively weaker throughout. I thought my body would reach a threshold at which it was just clinging on. I thought I would be so stressed both physically and mentally that I would have very little room for growth. I liken it to what they call the death zone in mountaineering. Above 26,000 feet the human body is not meant for survival and it is slowly dying. You cannot recover and only get weaker by the minute. I believed this trip would be the same. For the first several weeks it seemed as if I was indeed getting weaker. I spoke of my floor getting lower and lower. Every single time I encounter a new hardship I’m starting from a worse spot, a lower baseline, than the time before. However, I think that is beginning to change. My entire concept of mental and physical strength is being challenged. Everything I knew about myself and personal growth on every aspect is being upended. I no longer can trust my previous conclusions and conceptions of strength and the ideal environment for growth. It is the most remarkable thing. Over the past week and a half I have felt myself building on incredible resilience and mental fortitude. I’m still not sure how I was able to rebound so quickly on Day 28 after seeing the dead man hit by a truck. My mind seems to be like a broken bone that heals back stronger every time it is fractured. At the begging of this trip I had assumed that when my mind broke like a bone the best I would be able to do was wrap it in a bandage and take some morphine for the pain. I kept questioning the wind. I was confused why the world seemed set out to get me. I was looking for the silver lining in the 3,000 miles of consistent headwind. As it turns out, that wind had a purpose after all. The headwinds bent me and taught me how to be strong. They weakened me enough that I got a solid taste for hardship and misery, but they did not break me. It’s one of those cliché what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger moments. If the first 4,000 miles of this trip had been all tailwind, it arguably would’ve been too easy and I would’ve been too soft to face the adversity I now do. Of course challenges and adversity makes us stronger. However, I never expected to reap the benefits of this trip’s adversity while the trip was ongoing. I thought this trip was going to slowly break me. It may yet break me, but it’s actively making me stronger for now. I thought that I would not see the mental benefits of this trip until after its conclusion, but I am presently surprised, and extraordinarily happy to see that I was wrong. I seem to be thriving not just off of hardship, but while immersed in a world of alienation and inherent loneliness. And it’s not just mental fortitude that I’m building. I am using my time on the bike for reflection and thought and continue to arrive at new realizations and conclusions about myself and the greater world in which I exist.

I lay awake staring at the ceiling. I felt like I was drowning in my own pool of sweat. Even though it was midnight, it was still 80° and 100% humidity. Rain was pouring off the roof outside end it felt like there was a leak in the roof above me the way all of my sheets were dripping wet from my sweat. When my alarm went off at three I felt like I hadn’t fallen asleep yet. I turned off the alarm and rolled back over in an attempt to get some real respite. I was miserable, but I knew if I didn’t get any sleep and then tried to ride I would be that much more miserable. At five thirty I rallied myself out of bed. I’s gotten about four hours of restless sleep. That would have to be enough. I looked over at my bike and noticed that my front tire was flat. I must’ve gotten a small metal shark stuck in the front tube on my way into town. The new tire that I have on my new front wheel is incredibly tight. It took me almost 30 minutes to change a flat, something that would be done in less than 5. I had to use bar soap to slicken the rim so that the tire could slide over. Never in my life have plI had such a difficult tire to change. I rolled out of the hotel, hoping I didn’t have to do that again. It was not a fun tire change.

The riding is slowly getting better. The roads get a little bit quieter with each mile, and I no longer am near massive population centers. It feels like I’m already in Central America even though I still have a couple hundred miles to go. It finally cooled down a little bit and the rains abated for the morning. I had neglected to get any food for the road so when I came to a shack on the side of the road selling tamales I jumped at the opportunity. I had three options, chicken, pineapple, or chicken and pineapple. I took one chicken, one pineapple, and two chicken and pineapple tamales. The woman packaged them up for me so that I can put them in my jersey pockets. They were piping hot, and the tinfoil burned against my back. I rode for about five minutes before diving into my first chicken and pineapple tamale. These were not only the best tamales I’ve ever had, these might’ve been a top 10 meal of all time. I’ve had a lot of tamales in my life, but these were exceptional. The dough was sweet and perfectly moist, but not too doughy. The chicken was salty and savory and a little bit spicy. The pineapple was juicy and fresh and mellowed out the spiciness of the chicken just perfectly. Grease ran down my face and dripped off my chin. Before I knew it, my handlebars were covered and drips from my chin splashed down all over the top tube of my bike. Finally, the protective helicopter tape that I placed on my frame is being put to it intended use, protection from tamale grease. I had planned on eating the tamales throughout the day, but I couldn’t help myself from diving into another one, and then a third. With just 80 pesos I gotten four of them and I was full after three. I haven’t felt full on this trip very many times, I certainly have not felt full while I am on the bike. I think tamales might be my new favorite ride food. Lots of sugar/carbs, fat, salt, and even some proteins from the chicken. Simply perfect. Just as I cannot capture in words the beauty of the sunset or the mountains that I see, I cannot capture the flavor profile of these tamales. They really were just incredible. It made sense that the pineapple was good. All morning I’d been riding past fields of pineapple. I’d seen workers in the fields chopping off the fruit and throwing them into trucks.

The first several hours of my ride were very flat. I rode over rivers and through freshwater swamps. Lakes were full of dirty brown water from all of the rain and the river was swollen, carrying trash and debris down towards the ocean. I think I saw a couple of caiman among the many birds. Little turtles swam all around, and the occasional snake darted through the water. I saw several boas and pythons that had been hit on the road. Hopefully I can find one slithering along that has not been hit yet. I believe that for about half the year it is incredibly dry here, so the vegetation doesn’t always feel completely jungley. However, this time of year, it is hot, humid, and rainy all day every day so it feels like I’m in the jungle, even if it doesn’t always look like it. I saw my first natural palm trees today. I heard some monkeys—although I never caught a glimpse of them—and I saw a lot of parrots, and I certainly heard them crying out from the trees.

I’d gotten another flat after only about 10 miles of riding. I was worried that perhaps I had not put in the patch correctly and it had blown. However, when I took off the tire and examined the tube, I saw that a tiny metal shard had punctured a new hole. I got out another patch and was on my way after another long tire change.

Because there are less people in this region of Mexico, there are more people. When I was biking through Mexico City and the surrounding megalopolis cities, I was surrounded by millions and millions of people, but I felt alone and isolated. When I was on the main interstate, I only saw cars and dead animal. Now that I am in rural parts of Mexico, people walk along the shoulder of the highway and vendors pop up along the roadside and at every truckstop. Even when I encountered people in the big cities, they would usually just stare, and it was very rare for me to get so much is a wave. In rural areas I can’t seem to stop without getting asked about my trip. I get a bunch of fish pumps, high-fives, and hand shakes. Almost every time I stop I get requests for photos and I’m offered food, no matter where I am. Not free food, but it still is exciting. I’m a sucker for food, so anytime anyone tries to sell me some thing I pretty much ubiquitously buy it. My friend Conner has been telling me for weeks that I need to try a couple different types of his favorite tacos before I leave Mexico, so when I stopped for lunch and saw a taco stand with baracosas and tacos el pastor I knew I had to stop. The taco stand placement next to the convenience store is an elite setup for me. I order my tacos then go into the store to purchase several gallons of liquids and by the time I come back outside my tacos are waiting for me. This is my new routine. I’m playing with fire every time I get food from a roadside vendor. It’s only a matter of time before I get food poisoning if I keep this behavior up. I need to watch myself, but there is also a balance between discipline and enjoyment of my adventure. I just know I will be so mad at myself if I get sick from street food. It’s really not worth it, but I feel decently confident in the safety of the stands I’ve stopped at so far. It’s not like I’m going to get deathly ill from something I eat, but even a minor stomachache could derail my riding for a day since my body is already on edge. Nonetheless, these tacos were phenomenal and the people eating at the stand were all very nice.

After leaving the taco stand. I immediately got my third flat of the day. An hour later, I got my fourth. Each of these flats was a problem with my front wheel. I have had a tubeless set up since Calgary. On the interstates my tubeless set up has been eating up all of the sharp shards of debris that would be giving me punctures, but yesterday, when I had to put a tube in my front tire, all of that changed. Now, every single small piece of debris that gets through my tire is giving me a flat. The reason I am getting so many flats is because I am riding on the shoulder of this limited access road. Since the shoulder never gets cleaned and no one ever rides in it, debris builds up over time. Vehicle tires have thin, metal wires in the tread to hold the tire together. Trucks commonly blow tires and the metal shards get thrown all over the shoulder. I was riding in a minefield of these metal shards. I’ve never had so many flats in a day, but it made sense why they kept happening. Immediately after Changing my fourth flat of the day, I ran over a much larger piece of debris that completely slashed my rear tire. I now had to have a tube in the front and the back. To make things worse, it started pouring rain. I put a new tube in my rear, and got ready to ride again, but realize that while I’d been changing my rear tire, my front had gone flat. All of the rain had made it so that my patches were not adhering. I just sat in the grass on the side of the road. I didn’t know what to do. I kept trying to patch the tires, but the rain was falling in buckets, and nothing I was doing was helping. I had two flats and no more tubes. I felt incredibly down and wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of this pickle. It felt like another make or break moment. It felt hopeless and I was just beaten down. I wanted to get mad, but I didn’t. I was apathetic. I didn’t have any other option, so I just lifted my bike up and started walking. I walked for about 5 km before I got to a Vulcanizara, or a truck tire shop. Every 10 or so kilometers on the side of the interstate, there are little shacks where men will change tires for a truck. Truck tire blowouts are incredibly common on these roads so there needs to be these little shops every couple of kilometers. Men seem to live in these shacks. They are open 24 hours and if a trucker has a flat in the middle of the night, he goes into the shack and wakes up the workers. Obviously, these guys never fix bike tires. I was incredibly apprehensive about letting them have a go with my wheel. But I figured even if they broke some thing, I was already stranded. I couldn’t make things much worse. I decided to just lean into it and put all my faith in them. They whipped out a sandpaper, drilling fit on the end of a large industrial machine. They went to town on my tube, sanding down every single patch. I thought they would go straight through the rubber since my tubes are much thinner than the tubes one would put in a vehicle. They then proceeded to take truck patches and cut them into small pieces and slap them on my tube with some glue. I wasn’t really sure if it would work, but as I watched them, I gained faith. They clearly knew what they were doing. They were very nice and understanding, and seem to get a kick out of the fact that they were working on a bike. Sure enough, the patches held. I have a lot of faith in their patches. Nonetheless, my tubes now have four patches upfront, and two patches in the rear. You never want to be running patches for that long. It’s a somewhat temporary fix for the most part. Since it was Sunday, there would be no bike shops open. I would be in Villahermosa early tomorrow, but well before any shop would be open. I will pass through Villahermosa tomorrow around 5am. Waiting for a shop to open would cost me over 100 miles of progress. Then I would not make it to the border in time to cross tomorrow night. I’ve been starting my rides at 3 or 4 am, and the border crossing doesn’t open until 9 am, so I would loose serious time waiting around. I decided to take a huge gamble and press all the way on to Flores in Guatemala. A big risk for a big reward.

My tubes held into the night as I rode into Cardenas where I grabbed a hotel room so I could dry out for the night. Even though my tubes were holding, all of the stopping to fix them throughout the day had cost me hours. I was disappointed in my progress on the day.