December 7

A day to remember. Footage of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on the motel's TV at 6:00 AM. Met Sasha at 7:45 and we were riding south by 8:00. Got to Harlingen by 10:30. Los Indios at 11:15, and had cleared Mexican immigration and started for Valle Hermoso at 11:55, in light rain and a good strong tailwind. It was 40 km away; a piece of cake. About five km down the road, pedaling at 20 kmh, I hit something slick, dropped the bike and skidded about three meters on my left side. Then Sasha ran over me, and she, too, fell. I got skinned up, and was bleeding profusely from cuts on my face and leg, and my shoulder hurt, but I was otherwise all right. Sasha was unscathed except for a headache: she landed on her helmet.

We decided that because of the traffic, particularly trucks sending up clouds of mist that reduced visibility to zero, we should find a hotel. Sasha walked about fifty meters up the road to a farmhouse to ask directions, and while she was there two Mexican border policemen in a ½ ton truck stopped to investigate. Because I was covered with blood they thought I was badly hurt, and asked where I wanted to go, and I said Valle Hermoso and they said something else, and I said my amiga over there speaks Spanish, and Sasha came back about then. Sasha is fluent in Spanish. They were telling me that they were taking us to a hotel, and we had a choice of one 2km back or another 8 km down the road and 3 km to the west. We chose the later, and I broke my vow not to use fossil fuel for transportation on this trip (ferries notwithstanding). One of the cops, the driver, who had done all the talking, had been drinking. I seriously did not expect to survive that ride.

The hotel they brought us to is in a little town called Control. Lots of junk, in and out of yards, cattle and skinny dogs in the streets, little bars, taquerias, farmacias, small shops selling fish or bread or meat, a messy, muddy place, with a lot of well-mannered schoolchildren and men who greeted us politely. Arnulfo and Mila, in their early fifties, own and manage the hotel and its store. They charged us $25 per room, helped carry our gear upstairs, stored our bikes and the BOB in a shed, and Mila drove us to a café for some lunch, which consisted of three things that I think of as open-faced tamales. Then I had a shower and cleaned off the blood (I did look pretty bad), applied first aid. Later, when Sasha went over to the bakery, Mila told her that I would be welcome to have tacos with them, which I did. I used as much of my very bad Spanish as I could, and they and the tacos were very good for me.

I'm warm, I'm fed, my injuries won't keep me from riding, I'm among people who care for me, and I think they sell beer in the tienda downstairs.

They do. I bought, after some confusion, what I had seen, from the hotel balcony, other men carrying away in brown bags: a liter of Schaefer, a Milwaukee beer. Tomorrow more rain is predicted. For $30 Arnulfo will drive us to Valle Hermoso.