I woke up to an incredible sunrise. Also, so many tiny terrible bugs that I actually pulled on my mosquito head net. Getting bit was a good motivator to pack fast. And I was pleased to be using all my gear on these last couple days.
Paved road goes by so fast. I could tell I was getting closer to tourist land. RVs dotted the nicer beaches. I saw so many places to camp that looked so much better than where I’d ended up. Oh well, probably they had bugs too.
I hadn’t made coffee (I know, shock!), so I pulled into the first roadside restaurant. I eavesdropped on the ladies in the kitchen until they started talking about me. They thought I lived in La Paz. I had to let them know I’d come from the other direction. They were gratifyingly impressed. I love that the Spanish word for brave is valiente.
Then I was on the outskirts of town and it was busy and cluttered again. I stopped again to eat tacos. And then I was on the malecon. It even had a bike lane.
I handed my phone to a man on crutches who seemed like his job was snapping pictures of tourists at the La Paz sign. Some Mexican tourists asked to take pictures with me too. Then I rolled over to the Pension Hotel California. There were some other cycle tourists checking in. Some road bikers from Europe, who asked why my name was Gretchen. Luckily, the hotel had a small naughty black kitten to cheer me up.
I have a terrible time with the end of trips. Because isn’t the end of the road just a metaphor for death? I’ve always felt that the best part of the journey was the journey itself, not the reaching the end. And certainly not going back to work. So my goal is never the finish line. It’s to be present in the place where I am. Probably why I ride so slow.