Reality check; mile 55: the fully loaded bike (including giant bag of gas) was WAY heavier than I expected. The bike wallowed side to side in the sand, picking up speed and rhythm until the front wheel would literally leave the ground. The road to Gonzaga was m-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e, but I kept thinking it was just my PTA, so I pushed on. Something needed to be done, however, which is when I discovered that a bike gremlin ‘somehow’ put 35 psi. of air into my front tire. I aired down, gassed in Gonzaga, and kept pushing forward. The breakfast in San Felipe had burned valuable daylight and it would catch up to me at 3:30, which was the time I hit the pavement at Chapala. Not good.

Realizing there was NO way I was going to make Guerrero Negro by dusk, I pulled off the road, tucked behind a little mesa, and prepared to camp out for the night. Having made the decision, I was stoked. 20 minutes of daylight remaining, Steely Dan on the iPod speaker, and a shot of Dewars put me in a great mood. So here it was, Day 1, and already I was camped in the moon shadow of a Boodjum tree (sp?) under an almost full moon. 190 miles of riding made for a perfect pillow.