December 12

I made it to Victoria. I'm in an expensive motel ($53US) which I chose because I was exhausted and I hurt and it is across the street from a super market, where I got a six-pack of Carta Blanca and more supper than I could eat for $8. That was two hours ago, at 2:30. I would ride the remaining 4km to the center of town, but I've started my third Carta Blanca and I don't ride drunk. I don't have to get out of here until 1:00 tomorrow, so I'll look for a cheaper hotel in the morning. And then find an apartment or a house, cheap. And then lay back and wax fat.

I let this be a bitch of a day, in being anxious to get here. The end of the ride is the most anxiety ridden. First, the distance was great, given my condition. Second, nobody in Jimenez wanted anything to do with me, so I didn't learn anything about the terrain. Third, early on I encountered steep hills and headwinds that loaded me down to 6 kmph. Fourth, there was fog thick enough to obscure all but the bottom 20 feet of a microwave tower from fifty meters. Fifth, I was convinced three quarters of the time that the BOB tire was going flat. Sixth, I didn't see a restaurant that appealed to me, so I ate the little food I had left in my kitchen, which wasn't enough. Sixth, while the scenery, once the fog lifted, remained wonderful, the roadside in a lot of places smelled like shit. Literally. By the time that I knew that I could do this final leg I hurt so bad that I didn't want to see another car, truck, stinky farm or messy tire vulcanizing shop (there are hundreds, and thousands of retreads on the side of the road).

But at one point when the sky cleared and I was at the top of a mesa similar to the one I climbed onto yesterday, I took more pictures of those now not so distant mountains. Victoria is at the foot of another, similar range. I rode the last thirty km over a straight,

level road that took me into this town which sits at the base of spectacularly rugged mountains. "Sierra" is no exaggeration. Other than the stench of an open sewer now and again, and the profusion of shops dealing with cars, I think I'm gonna like it here. A stranger in a strange land, for the first time since 1961, and that was a long time ago. I took a half hour walk towards the center of town (el centro), which in my current condition didn't get me very far. But I did get into a working class residential neighborhood which was a couple of blocks from a street busy with 5:00 o'clock traffic.

It was quiet there, too quiet. The houses are built with the same fortress architecture used in old Santa Fe: high walls adjacent to the narrow sidewalk on the narrow street, with eight-foot iron gates giving access to small courtyards. Inviting, but insular.