Destinies and Curses
November 26, 2008
Durango, Durango
Mexico

Once in awhile, first-time international long-riders send email requesting travel advice and route planning for their upcoming dream. But since I hesitate to share what are at best, subjective opinions, I invariably refer them to the latest and best technical information available at horizonsunlimited.com But procrastination regarding such lofty endeavors is a common error--so a two-part fundamental concept I do offer is that number one, it is important to quit talking and set a launch date, and number two, do not deviate from that date. Whether it be, “In two years I’m…” or “Next month I’m…” Just state the date and then do it. Don’t bother mentioning “Someday.” “Somedays” never happen. Set an irrevocable calendar day, period. Once making that critical decision, there are no acceptable excuses to postpone. “It was too hard to leave right then because my tummy hurt, my dog was sick or a relative died” are insufficient reasons to delay—take an anti-acid or bury your dead and then leap into the metamorphosis of your epic journey. As a result of disregarding gasping personal crisis a lot can go wrong and your world may dramatically change, but isn’t that the reason we adventure?

So here I sit in a low budget, downtown Durango hotel with no hot water, a victim of my own wisdom. Why abandon the relative peace and security of blissful Mazatlán for a month of cramped, musty rooms and spine-mangling saggy mattresses, further annoyed by sporadic yelping outside my window of malfunctioning car alarms? Is this the result of a masochistic urge to be uncomfortable, or a case of the wanderer’s awkward curse--to only find true solace on the road?

Yesterday afternoon after forcing myself to abide by rule number two, while spiraling upward among the soaring rocky cliffs of the Devil’s Spine (Mexico Route 40) it was a peculiar feeling, departing the warm muggy palm-tree-Pacific coastline into the brisk scented pine forests of the chilling Mexican Sierras. What a unique transition toggling from the proverbial Gringo tourist zone of pink legs protruding from Bermuda shorts into the world of macho horseback hombres in Latin American cowboy country. As always, traveling according to plan of no-plan requires only a firm departure date and a general direction with an optimistic time allotment. With that said and done, the first fork of destiny lays ahead.

Still weighing two options, in a few hours on the outskirts of Durango, for the hundredth time over the decades, I’ll do another mental coin-toss; roam south into the stunning colonial granite plazas of of Zacatecas, or sprint across the empty desert plains of the Mexican Central Highlands to gracefully descend somewhere on the sultry Caribbean beaches. It’s true that wanderer’s wander because they have to, but also, when choosing destinations it’s best to select an unfamiliar one, which will likely eliminate Zacatecas in favor of Torreon and Monterrey.



Because in previous Ride Reports, myself, as well as many, many others, have vividly described the terrain, photographed such stately delights as towering Zocalo cathedrals, favorite canyon lookouts and even colorful zesty local restaurant cuisine, I’m still undecided what to write about or if I’ll even post photographs. And you guys know darn well that when snapping shots of local babes, one thing invariably leads to another, like more intimate posing in private and later appearing here. This may be much to the delight of some but also to the dismay of others who consider reporting this type of activity inappropriate. Maybe we’ll just have to settle for some non-political stream-of-conscious-rambling about the effects of life south of the border from a man wrangling with a rewarding curse.
Andele pues

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