5,000 kilometers, give (mostly) or take 500 kilometers. In this order: Nuevo León, Coahuila, Chihuahua, Sonora, and Sinaloa; then down the east shore of the Sea of Cortez, turning inland in Nayarit and finally through Jalisco to San Miguel. Twenty-two days, mostly long ones.
I nearly called this whole thing off. This leg was going to be impossible. Too far, too hot, too dangerous. But then I came to my senses, put on my big boy pants, and planned my way through the challenges. I canceled the dream of going to the home of the Seri peoples in Desemboque, saving three days.
I pushed the trip out by two weeks to avoid the peak of monsoon season and the wilting heat. Now it will just be hot.
And finally, to just stomach the travel advisories, with the understanding that the authorities would prefer that you never leave your house.
Northern Mexico is Chichimeca and vaquero country, in contrast to the Mesoamerica of central and southern Mexico. Luis Alberto Urrea, in The Devil’s Highway, wrote, “They eat cheeks, ears, feet, tails, lips, fried blood, intestines filled with curdled milk. Southerners grew up eating corn tortillas.” It is here that carne asada is a social ritual.
It is Mexico under pressure—from drought, distance, migration, industry, and the United States. It is big country: the high deserts of Chihuahua and Sonora and the oversized aquarium known as the Sea of Cortez.
There will be photographs. There will be stories. There will almost certainly be at least one moment when I ask myself why being with my beautiful wife and sleeping in a comfortable bed in San Miguel did not seem like a better plan
No bucket list, no must-sees, no top ten, no hidden paradises. To go where few have documented.
Ride safe my friend, and enjoy.
Buen viaje mi amigo! Smooth riding.