It’s still dark and I ride right into a stiff headwind, but I don’t care. I’m ready to get after it. Salvador and the owner of Bicicletas los Chinos drive behind me for the paved climb out of Tecate. I climb steady because I don’t want to blow up my lungs. The sun comes up by the time I hit the dirt past San Francisco. There is so much water on the route. I’ve already ridden this road four times and only once seen a tiny stream in this section. On this ride, there is gushing water and several stream crossings. I plunge right through in my shoes, soaking my feet. The shrubs are all green– so different from washed out December. About 20 miles in I pass a couple of loaded down bikepackers pushing uphill. At this point, the headwind is so strong that it is actually blowing sand into our faces. I’m fresh and jumpy and I don’t want to stop. One of the riders says he was wondering when I’d pass them. I ask the other how he’s doing and he tells me,
“I’ve been better.”
The wind lets up by the time I get to Neji. My bike is a total ripper and I’m loving it. I climb up to 4700 feet, the highest point on the route, and descend to Ejido Sierra Juarez. Dogs sound off and chase me through the village. I ride the washboard to Ojos Negros and stop at the last store on the way out. I buy drinkable yogurt and coke and Japanese peanuts and local hard goat cheese. An old man in a wheelchair asks me about my ride and my answers get him laughing so hard he ends up in a coughing fit. I drink all of the drinks and an Indian family watches me pack up my bike out front. And then I’m off. Touring the route, it took us a full two days to get to Ojos Negros. On my FKT ride I get there just after noon. It feels like time travel.
I power along to Rancho Tres Hermanos and then the route gets steep and loose and it’s hot and my legs just lose their juice. I’ve never had this experience on the first day of an intense ride. I usually feel so fresh and full of energy. It’s 3 or 4 in the afternoon and my upper thighs feel totally drained. I’m already regretting swapping my 28-tooth chainring for a 32. The route is so steep and loose! I climb on the bike at about 3 miles an hour. I have to walk a couple stretches. I make the high point, but it’s still a lot of up and down to get to Ejido Uruapan. The sun sets and I roll into town in the dark. Nick calls cause he’s worried that I’m having breathing problems. I tell him I’m breathing all right, but my legs just wouldn’t go. He tells me to eat some real food and encourages me to pick up the pace to Erendira.
Be careful out there! The road is loose and eroded.
I buy 7 beef burritos from a tupperware container off the counter of the store, fill my water bottles, drink a yogurt, pack a couple of slices of cheesecake and hit the pavement. It’s a five mile paved ride to Santo Tomas and my legs come back. I try to eat a bite of burrito, but I really don’t want it and end up spitting it out. I pull over right before the steep climb out of Santo Tomas to wire in the batteries on my headlamp. The neighborhood dogs bark fury and I’m out of there quick. I feel good in the night. The road is broad and graded to start. Nearing the Pacific it gets pretty rough, gravelly and loose and rolling and rutted from moto traffic.
I’m running a prototype Sinewave dynamo light and two Black Diamond Icon Poler headlamps– one attached to my helmet and one attached to my head tube. It’s so much light! I can see everything and I ride the rollercoaster to the Pacific. I’m focused on consistently pushing the pedals, on staying seated and riding through the terrain even if it’s hammering me. I make it through Ejido Erendira at midnight and ride another ten miles to the big rocky outcrop where Nick and I camped on our first ride last December. I push my bike up a steep incline to the rock, pull out my bivvy and sunshade and tuck myself in. I wake up in the night cold and cinch the bivvy tighter so that there’s only a tiny hole to breathe out of.