As soon as we left San Francisco’s urban jungle and its satellite towns, we entered into a new area where the ochre and yellow colors of the dry and arid lands were prevalent. Nevertheless, the cultivated land and vineyards still abounded, irrigated with a complex and efficient canal system that provided the necessary and indispensable water for this deserted and dried up region.

We were using for the first time a new resource of navigation to reach the State Parks that were between San Francisco and Yosemite National Park: The maps of the popular search engine, the Google Maps. We selected our destinations with the option of avoiding the highways and almost magically we had with a detailed route that took us through an intricate network of secondary roads that would’ve been impossible to find otherwise. Even so, we were so far away from the main roads that we even missed the nearby towns and made finding food a bit more complicated. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure to ride on those roads through farmland and without any of the crazy traffic of the main roads.

One of those afternoons, we were coming down a hill fast with Oscar, very close to one another, when I had my first accident on the bike in many years. We were riding at some 40 km/h when I saw Oscar turning and pointing to something on the road. I took a look and when I lifted my head again I saw with horror that Oscar was suddenly breaking hard. I couldn’t avoid him and seconds later I had my front wheel wedged in his read panniers. I tried to break and after the initial rebound my hand bar destabilized and zigzagging I tried not to fall too hard as I was spread all over the road. The first thing I did was to get out of the cars way, because we were in a middle of a curve and I was a perfect target for any car coming my way. I lifted Maira as fast as possible and stumbling I tried to understand what had just happened.  The bike was Ok, Oscar didn’t fell down and I only had a few scrapes on my hands and the memory of my knees hitting the ground. I asked him why the hell he stopped so suddenly in the middle the descentand he toldme that he saw a tarantula on the road and he wanted to take it out of harms way. At that moment I didn’t know who to kick first, the tarantula that was still indifferent to everything that just happenedor Oscar for his precipitous green cause that almost caused us a serious accident. After that moment, I decided to keep a more prudent distance with Oscar, or simply go in the front when descending.

After a short but steep climb, we arrived to the town of Greeley Hill when we were finishing our third day on the bike. We just used up our last energy and the lights were fading. It was time to find a place to camp. The sign at the edge of town said: “Population: Friendly; Altitude: just right” It was cute and we decided to see if it was true. Indeed it was. In the supermarket they tended to us with a big smile, the recommended a place to camp and later on, they let us use internet in a travel agency we found. There, I found out about the presidential elections in Argentina and that the wife of the actual president had won by a wide margin. Soon, Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner would become the first woman democratically elected as president of my home country. What would I find when I get there in a few more months?

That night we were camping in the town campground when an incredible thunderstorm, not so common in this area, unleashed its fury upon us. The water was pouring, the wind was blowing wildly and the lightning hit trees at mere yards from us. It was a hellish show and made us fear for our safety in our small and exposed tents. Thankfully, Malcolm, the campground manager came to us and, without us asking, he gave us the keys to one of the rental cabins so we could take shelter from the storm. Thanks to his gesture, we could rest warm and dry while outside the world was coming to an end.

The next day it was all clear and with a spectacular sun, as if the storm was part of a transient hallucination. We took the road and faced the last part towards the Yosemite National Park. We had to pass more climbs than expected and during those kilometers I passed the 8000 mark (5,000 miles). I was progressing bit by bit and accumulating lots of road on my tires….

The rewards for so many climbs were 16 km of sudden drop to the entrails of Yosemite Valley.We were entering little by little this place that rightfully deserves to be considered one of the most beautiful places in the US. Those granite formations took our breath away with their majestic presence, the trees were tinted with red and yellow tones, marking the season change to fall and ateverystep there was a postcard view. It looked like a dream place and when arriving to the granite mole known as El Capital, the biggest with its 1300 m of altitude, the visual impact was complete. It was like fiction place. The explosion of colors accentuated buy the setting sunshine, called for a constant contemplation. The other granite colossus of world fame, the Half Dome, took the price on the eastern side of the valley. The heart shrunk in front of such show that nature was giving us in that corner of the world and made us felt insignificant in front of such grandiose place. The neck hurt from looking up towards those step walls that were the supreme challenge fro many climbers. They were really crazy!!!

While buying some food in the local store, we met Cathy, that once she saw our packed bikes, she didn’t hesitate to invite us to spend the night at her home. She had taken a few trips with her husband Jeff and they knew what it means to travel like this! We just happened to arrive on Halloween so we were witnessed to the constant flux of children in costumes coming to the house for their precious loot: candies! Could I try too dressed up as a cyclist?

The next day we took a “rest” day with Oscar and we took advantage to see a bit closer the natural beauty that the park had to offer, In another great day and with plenty of sunshine, we took a trial to the Glacier Point, were we could have the best panoramic view of the valley, with impressive views of El Capitan and the Half Dome. In total, we hiked 25 km, where we ascended and descended around 1300 m. That was resting!!! The trip was well worth it, leaving unforgettable pictures on out eyes, impossible to catch with all their magnitude in any photo.

Once again, it was time for farewells. Oscar wanted to follow his trip towards the Sequoia National Park and I was more inclined to cross the Tioga Pass towards the Death Valley. In the frosty buy bright morning of Nov 2, we simply said “until later” and I faced the hard climb that was waiting for me. The worst part is that I knew how bad it was, because they were the same 16 km that we had descended fast when arriving to the valley. I put my head down and slowly I started to gain altitude until I reached the crossing with the road that would take me towards the mountains of the east.

The slow climb gave me the chance to appreciate with many details the beautiful landscape that was showing on slow motion in front of me. The trees were getting shorter and less dense, intercalated with rocky formations where some of them were stoic examples of tenacity and perseverance by setting themselves on the narrow fissures that were exposed on the hard terrain. It was a surrealist image, were the stubborn trees seem to rise from the mountain itself.

That night I arrived to one of the park’s campground, which was closed because the season was over. Even though the many places that I could have camped were countless, that presence of black bears in the area wasn’t something to forget and it was better to look for a safe place to put my food. Yosemite was famous for the conflicts with bears that had become spoiled and fed on trash left over by visitors, becoming aggressive and dangerous. Obviously, it was a bit scary to set the tent in the middle of the empty campground, especially considering the aforementioned circumstances. It was getting dark and at 2500 m the cold was setting in. I had to decide what to do and fast! It was then that it occurred to me to look into the bathrooms.They were big and the door could be locked up from the inside, so they could become sort of a special hotel… bear-proof!! Thankfully they had cleaned the septic tanks for the winter so the smell was more than acceptable for a prolonged stay as I planned. I didn’t hesitate for a minute and I spread my gear in one of those buildings that it was now my private suite with bathroom included. It was the right decision after all, because during the night I could hear the scratching noise of animal paws on the entrance and its breathing noises while it smelled from under the door. I made myself smaller in my sleeping bag and I prayed for the door to resist an eventual push that thankfully, never happened.

With the thermometer showing 5 degrees below cero (about 23 degrees Fahrenheit) I started a new day to finish my last 30 km to the pass summit. On my way there I could appreciate areas on where the recently fallen snow still persisted. I was very lucky to be able to ride on this road so late in the season, because usually by this time, the snowfall forced the park to close the road. Little by little I surpassed the last hills that were left, passing through panoramic points that took my breath away (more than the climbs), deep blue lakes and fields of yellow vegetation that extended to the horizon, where they irremediably crashed against the mountains.

I finally made it to the top of the road: 3000 m over sea level, the highest point since my start in Alaska. Even though I expected a sign that pompously would announce the top of the Tioga pass, ideally to immortalize the task on a picture, the reality was very different. On a small barren plain, dominated by a freezing and strong wind was the entry kiosk to the National Park, where a nice ranger called Jeff would welcome the tourists and charged them the required fees. On a small sign attached to the payment station was a simple text saying “Tioga Pass, 9945 ft”.

All the same, I took a picture and I pushed forward looking for the steep descent towards lower lands. I had a short time to find a place to camp and the cold was starting to lurch with cruelty. Things were quite different on this side of the pass. The height that I had won in 70 km was lost in only 15! On other words, the road dropped down on a steep angle boarding the edge of the mountains with a continuous zigzag of close turns that ended in the abyss. Even though the road presented itself to break another speed record, the strong head wind and the tiredness of my arms and legs with the descent of temperature, advised me to leave those crazy thoughts for other occasion. Even so, I still passed the 70 km/h!

The morning of November 4th welcomed me with a thermometer record: -8 ºC (18 ºF)!! On, that chilly morning it was 5 months since I’ve been on the road. How fast the time does go!! That afternoon I met Omar Spina, a cyclist who along his friend Tom, were training on their fast road bikes. Omar invited me to spend the night at his place in the nearby town of Mammoth Lake and that’s were I went. Without knowing, I ended up enjoying Omar and his wife Sandra’s hospitality in a beautiful little town that’s base to a ski center, dinning as a guest in a luxury restaurant and finishing all up with a dip in the nearby hot springs right in the middle of the desert. What else could I ask for?

The next day I took the wide highway that crisscrossed the endless and vast plains of the Owens Valley which little by little was going down towards warmer terrains. An occasional detour on a secondary road took me on a wavy area where I descended fast on a crazy zigzag that left me with a smile on my face. I knew that I had a huge climb the next day, but I better enjoy the present!!!

As if I was spoiled by the hot springs the previous night, that day I set my tent next to some natural swimming holes at the Keough hot springs. The signs indicated that camping was not allowed but I wasn’t the only one wanting to sleep there. Even more, the amount if people was so big that it was very noisy. I was so tired from the previous days that I collapsed before I could find a nice place to take a dip.

The next morning, while rinsing my cooking pots in the warm waters, I couldn’t resist the temptation and before starting pedaling I took advantage of the solitude and I took a relaxing and comforting bath. I still didn’t know that one of the hardest days of the trip was about to start!

I had decide to follow the steps of my friend Jonas and enter the Death Valley from the northern access, a road that had a big gravel section and that even didn’t show up on many of the touristy maps. Just a few daring ones had the courage to take this road and when people heard about my plans, their reaction was immediate: “it’s impossible! You’re going to die” Would it be like that? I had to check it up personally…

As soon as I took the road, I was completely alone. The road climbed implacably, penetrating like a snake intro ochre hills, devoid of most vegetation other than some short and thorny shrubs. I could hear the slow passing of my chain as a soft grunt. The water bag where I was carrying the precious liquid was sloshing with every movement of the bike. My forced breathing could be clearly heard in the crushing and oppressive silent. There wasn’t any wind. The sun was hitting hard on a perfectly blue sky and the heat extracted all my sweat from my forehead into my face. Perspiration formed little drops of sweat on my arms that would rapidly evaporate in the extreme dry atmosphere. I was slowly entering the Death Valley. On the next 120 km I knew it would be rare to meet other human beings. I was on my own and that had its special charm.

Suddenly a big bang got me out of my stupor. From behind the closest hill and like materializing out of nowhere, an F-14 fighter jet appeared and in the best “Top Gun” style, it was flying very low and following the terrain contours. It seemed like I could touch it! I raised my arm to wave at it and I could see the pilot answering me by swinging the plane from side to side while it disappeared in the horizon leaving a white streak behind his engines. The absolute silence surrounded me again and the chain noise was again noticeable while I kept going while drying the sweat from my face. Did that just happen in reality or was I having hallucinations due to the heat??

The climb was hard and challenging, topping out at 2500 m of altitude, but the reward was worth it. A gradual and deserving descent took me through hills and mountains of reddish and yellowish colors, until something got my attention. Little by little some plants that I’d never seen before started to appear. They had a rough and wrinkled trunk that branched out several times and ended up in cylindrical concentration of thorny leaves that pointed to the sky as if they were praying. They really popped out in contrast to an almost none vegetated terrain and I asked myself what were they. The answer came from a map, that wisely said “Joshua Road” Those were the first specimens of the Joshua tree that I had seen in my life and they were a true spectacle to my eyes, with their intricate forms that seemed to follow the wind’s whims.

I left those exotic trees behind rather quickly and in front of my eyes I had the supreme beauty of the Eureka Valley, a wide and open field that lost itself in the horizon while in custody of high mountains at both sides. The road was like a line foreign to the landscape. Cutting in half the harmony of the scenery in a place with no particular attraction but captivating anyway. That’s when I entered the Death Valley, riding on a gravel road in really bad shape and that after a little while, made me remember the terrible “bone-breaker” roads of Bolivia’s Puna of the famous route 40 in the Argentinean Patagonia. The road serrations were countless shaking the bike in an uncontrollable way and it looked like the panniers would get jettisoned to the sides at any moment. Rocks as big as a fist were all over the road and the sand banks tested all my patience to keep the balance in this painful progress on the road hostile to bicycles.

Thankfully it only lasted 10 Km that nevertheless seemed eternal. A rudimentary pavement gained some terrain at the same time I started a new climb to the ruins of an abandoned mine, the place I had chosen to spend the night. What I didn’t expect was the steepness and length of the climb! After such a day, it was the final addition to my tired legs. With the last rays of light and the darkness rapidly gaining on me, I set the tent up on a surface of borax that I found next to the inclined road and that offered me one of the few level surfaces in the area. The silence regained its prevalence and a starry night made me company in the extreme solitude of this isolated place. One could breathe peace and tranquility in the air. I felt fulfilled!

The next place with human presence was the access checkpoint to the National Park that was 70 km away and 50 of them were on a gravel road that was as bad as the one I just had left behind.
The descent from the mine to the valley on the other side of the mountains was painful and slow. I couldn’t go over 5 km/h unless I wanted to destroy poor Maira. The oppressing heat made my throat drier, claiming for more water. When I finally returned to the pavement I took a break to recover my breath under the precarious shadow of the bike and just casually I discovered that the rear tire had two beautiful cracks next to a pair of spokes. The rear tire has its days counted and it was a question of knowing how far it would last!

When I arrived to the Mesquite Spring campground I could satiate my thirst and I drunk like never before! Having water without restrictions was a luxury that I had learned to appreciate during the previous days.

On November 8th I woke up early, even before the night was over. I had to fulfill a compromise I had made before: my friend Kathy had used my webpage to do a report with her English students and we arranged to have a teleconference so the kids could ask questions about the trip. I had arrived on the day in question, but I didn’t know that the closest phone was 5 km away from the campground…on top of a hill! Adding the time difference with Quebec, I didn’t have other option than waking up bright early and made the call at 7 am sharp. The experience was well worth it and it was great to be able to answer the kid’s questions and even more when considering that I was in the middle of the desert and they were in their classroom at thousands of kilometers. When I hung up I spent a while looking at the landscape in front of my eyes and thinking of how crazy the situations that generated from this trip are. It’s been a while since it stopped being a touristy trip to become a life style that I indeed loved!!

After a quick visit to the incredible Scotty’s Castle, a mansion right in the middle of nowhere and which had a rich history behind its imposing walls, I started my trip through the Death Valley until reaching Furnace Creek, the urban center of the National Park. In contrast to the extreme solitude that I had a couple of night before, the place was packed with people in incredible numbers. More that a thousand RVs crowded the three campgrounds that looked like huge parking lots for these vehicles and around 3000 people running around the small oasis where the Park headquarters and visitor center were located. I didn’t get it!! When I asked what all those people were doing there they told me that it was an annual event that was celebrated fro decades. It was the 49s, a group of mostly retired people that gathered religiously every second week in November to celebrate the unfortunate pioneers that in 1849 almost died when trying to cross the Death Valley while searching for a shortcut to the Pacific coast urged by the gold rush. It looked like a gerontology meeting of disproportionate dimensions, because most of them looked like they were direct descendents of the original 49s!! There were art exhibits, auctions, wagon parades, horseshoe tournaments, country music concerts and, of course, the ever-present golf tournament on a land that totally contrasted with the deserted surroundings, showing obscenely green lawns that were kept only with continuous watering.   

Other than how picturesque the situation was, the great problem for me was to find a place to set up my tent in such a crowded area. I started going towards one of the three campgrounds to see if I could beg for a place to settle down when I heard someone calling: “Damian??” I turned around and to my surprise I saw a smiling couple approaching on a sophisticated tandem bike. It was Stefan and Julia, my German cycling friends that I had met in Alaska and had reencounter in Whitehorse. They were coming from Las Vegas and I was going that way. Without planning we coincided at that place with perfect timing. I set up my tent next to theirs in the crowded campground and we spent several hours talking about our trips experiences. It seemed weird to find each other like this for the third time… and we almost cross paths again in Prince George and in Portland! The world is indeed small; I had no doubts about that!

I decided to stay an extra day and go with them on their exit route to the south, passing through the lowest point in the US, the Badwater Basin, at 80 m under sea level. It was a salt lake that extended to the horizon with a blinding whiteness and that brought back memories about the incredible Salar Uyuni, in Bolivia. After the usual picture taking and saying goodbye to the next time (I’m sure there will be a next time), I returned to Furnace Creek, submerged in a sunset that gave me a show of unforgettable lights and colors. With the low light the mountain ridges were impressively lifted in a chromatic explosion that was truly spectacular.

The generosity of George, a neurobiologist passionate about cycling that was my neighbor at the site that I was staying at let me kept the place to spend the night because the demand for such spaces was more than excessive. All the same, the stubbornness of the campground manager made me move my tent a couple of meters, and if it wasn’t enough, he sent an arrogant ranger to check that I had done as I was requested with not too nice of an attitude. Because I didn’t want to generate a bigger conflict, and it was obvious that the ranger was looking for conflicts, I let it pass and I did as asked. I wasn’t a good idea to antagonize with the local authority, even if it was abusing of its power, and internally I cursed him. Even George felt ashamed with his conational attitude, and with good reason!!

After a couple of days of climbing and descending mountains through the desert, I arrived to the worldwide famous city of Las Vegas. Kevin O’Leary, a contact that I found through the “Warmshowers’’ site, gave me the opportunity to see that particular city by offering me a place to stay. How to describe a town that has been featured so many times in movies and is the gambler Mecca?

Arriving from the highway, Las Vegas could be seen as a huge conglomerate of suburban neighborhoods, concentrating houses of great value. Everything seemed to orbit around the gigantic Hotel-Casinos that concentrated in the famous “Strip”. Those kilometers of the Las Vegas Boulevard that didn’t say much during the day, would transform as soon as the sun would come down into an imposing light show that invaded everything. Walking through that area was overwhelming; with huge signs advertising the diverse high-end shows and inviting people to go into the casinos. eThe casinos themselves were colossal structures that coexisted one next to the other competing in originality to capture people’s attention and money. These commercial colossi seemed restless and the flux of people was endless. The “Treasure Island” Casino offered a duel of beautiful pirates in skimpy clothes; the “Mirage” exploded its artificial volcano with fire, lights and water every hour; the “Bellagio” had a fountain show with potent water canons that reached a 100 m of height with noisy explosions; the “Venetian” reproduced the Venetian channels, offering gondola tours; the “Paris” had its scaled replica of the Eiffel tower; the “Caesar Palace” dazzled with its conglomerate of roman style constructions and a commercial gallery full of fountains and statues that gave one the impression of being in the golden era of the Roman Empire; the ‘Luxor” shut a huge light beam to the sky from the summit of its pyramid… and the ‘New York, New York” that seemed to have transplanted to this place part of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty, was traversed by a scary and twisty roller coaster. And that’s just to mention some of the most imposing hotels and without taking account of the new construction that was taking place, taking down the old hotels to build bigger and more imposing structures.

Walking inside the casinos was another show. With a few differences in decoration and ambiance, they were all basically the same. There were hundreds of slots machines, were plenty of retirees played endlessly like robots, card and roulette tables abounded, the waitresses passed by offering free drinks to the players… it was an assault to the senses with all the lights, the sounds from the machines and the smells that overflowed the atmosphere inviting people to relax and to spend more!!!

Through the streets circulated the same number of limousines than taxies. To cross the more congested streets there were huge pedestrian bridges that always forced people to go through a game room. The sidewalks were populated by dozens of Latinos that took charge of promoting the city’s other great business: prostitution. With a characteristic noise they got people’s attention and making them with the graphic cards between their fingers, they offered services for people that wanted to have a night of pleasure costing between 35 and 150 dollars depending on the service. And they promised the arrival of the ladies to the hotel room in only 20 minutes! Would they have a discount for people staying in tents???

One could not forget the famous wedding chapels to have an express marriage, where some might have ended up with an unwanted wife after a night of alcohol and endless and unmeasured excess.

Being in a town were money is indispensable to do anything was even worse considering my ridicule low budget for the local standards. I had to admit that I succumbed to temptation and I decided to try my luck to get money to pay for the “New York, New York’ roller coaster that cost as much as 14 dollars the ride!! I decided to try with the roulette. It was very sophisticated because the bets were done in a digital touch screen. One had only 30 sec. to place the bet before the ball started to roll. A screen at the side of the game area showed all kinds of statistics to try to make an adequate forecast. I risked the minimum bet that was $ 2,50 and decided to restrain myself and get out as soon as I reached my objective. In a tense session I slowly started to gain the money, until reaching the desired $ 15. I got out proud of myself and happy because e I won the dazzling ride for free and gained and extra dollar on top of that! How easy is to please me!!

On one side Las Vegas was fascinating to see and my senses got overloaded. But on the other hand, the senseless energy usage, seeing so much water running in the fountains, the money that disappeared on the game rooms and all that ostentatious luxuries, consumerism and senseless expending made me feel out of place. It was hard to believe that I was in the middle of the desert with so much being spent so close to me. It was too much, the top for a society that seemed to put the uncontrollable spending at the front of everything. It was something worth seeing but hard to swallow.

I had enough and it was time to get back to the road. I withdrew fast and rode into the desert once more. As a border marker between the States of Nevada and California, I went through Primm, a little town that was basically a couple of Hotels-Casinos that were sort of welcoming signs to the gambling state. Even in the minimart in the gas station one could find slot machines!!

I went into the solitude of the Mojave Desert, were I recuperated my tranquility and internal peace in communion with nature. Once again, the critical event everyday was to see where to get water for the rest of the day. The heat was strong and the sun was an unavoidable constant/ Contrary to my belief, the desert wasn’t plain and the road was continuously up and down as it was crossing the diverse valleys that took me slowly towards the coast. Long and frequent climbs of 30 to 40 km took me to 1200 m of altitude, to then drop down the same altitude to sea level and it started all over again. It was very tiresome.

In between the Mohave Desert and the famous Joshua Tree National Park, I passed my 9000 Km (5625 miles) on the road. Without knowing I was on a section of the mythical Route 66, but at least in this part, it wasn’t very romantic or particular. It actually was more like a desolated waste land where the head wind was making things more difficult than usual. On that area I had a demonstration of the extreme general indifference that I was treated with during those days. The traffic was quite high, but the number of people waving from their cars was slim. At no time I was asked if I was Ok or if I needed water on these hot terrains. The last straw was one afternoon while I was resting after a tiring climb on a small area of leveled ground at the side of the road, under the little shadow that Maira provided me.  A car stopped and parked at a few meters from me. Finally someone was going to ask me if I was OK! But no, I was wrong. A couple got off their car, ate quickly a few bites and without even saying a word, got back into the car and took off without even saying bye! Meanwhile, they kept their kids inside the car, as if they were going to get something from this dangerous specimen that was sitting nearby. I couldn’t believe it!! I felt very lonely in spite of all the people passing by on the road…

The entrance to the Joshua Tree National Park couldn’t be without the music of the classic album of the same name from U2. It seemed unreal to be riding through theses places that I’ve heard so much about. The characteristic trees were only part of the natural attractions from this park that also showed off some interesting looking cacti called “Chollas” and “Ocotillos”. The first ones were a profusion of fine thorns that highlighted the landscape with a greenish color with the contrasting sunlight. Their ability to cling to anything that touched them made them famous and dangerous. The piercing screams of a kid that accidentally touched them with his hands were proof of how painful and how difficult was to take the thorns out of the skin as they clung on like hooks.  On the other hand, the “Ocotillos” had stylized and long branches full of thick thorns and were topped with flowers of a deep red that contrasted with the chromatic monotony of the desert.

The fifth night through the desert I arrived to a recreational park for ATVs, that was like reliving a mini-La Vegas, but wasting on vehicles instead. Of course, I was the only alien that was riding on my own strength. Everyone there was “camping” in their usual huge RVs and every family member seemed to have a motorbike or an ATV, one noisier than the other, which they use to run up and down the dunes. It was alienating and they were all congregated there! Thankfully I had little more to get to San Diego.

The last night I was very close to the city and urbanization became a constant that made it difficult to find a place to camp. I was going through areas affected by the recent wildfires and their scars were visible on the great amount of burned vegetation or the carbonized fence posts.
I knew there was a county campground nearby and that’s where I went. When I got there, I discovered that it was closed as it was being repaved. As it was dark I decided to ask for permission to set my tent there, but the ranger wasn’t very friendly. After coldly sizing me with his eyes (probably because it was off hours), he wanted to charge me 15 dollars for setting up my tent on a place without services because it was closed to the public! There wasn’t any haggling allowed and as I wasn’t ready to spend that small fortune there, I took off looking for a place to spend the night. After wandering in the middle of the night and seeing that it was impossible to find a place without a “No trespassing” sign, I arrived by mere coincidence to a horse farm. There, I met Bernardino, the foreman, how was without a doubt, Mexican as well as the rest of the workers there. In a few minutes I was settled in an empty house and sharing a nice home dinner along with his wife. Would this be a preview of the hospitality that awaited me on the other side of the border? At this time I started to accept the idea that I had to get used to hot food…

On November 21st I arrived to the city of San Diego, where the family of my friend Marco’s cousin were expecting me. Gina, Raymund and their daughter Mara took me into their home and for a week, took care of me, helping me with everything that I needed to do before leaving the US.

I even was participant of a spectacular and unforgettable Thanksgiving Dinner, at the home of Gina’s parents, Ronnie and Anna, in Los Angeles. In the middle of a family crowd and with the best chaotic traditional Italian spirit, we devoured a 15 kg turkey, garnished with so many delicacies that it seemed more fantasy than reality. The human warmth that reigned was a welcome balsam after such impersonal traverse that I had experimented while crossing the deserts to get there. 

Back in San Diego, the priority was to get a new wheel for Maira that thankfully had stoically lasted without leaving me stranded. Dan Callahan from the bike store Action Cyclery was my salvation. Understanding exactly my needs and wary of my apprehension of leaving my companion in strange hands, he took great care and with passion put my bike in impeccable conditions and ready to withstand the many kilometers we still have to ride. It’s a place to recommend to other cyclist without thinking!!

Se acercaba la hora de cruzar "la línea". Empezaba una nueva etapa. Me esperaba Latinoamérica con todas sus virtudes y defectos...cómo me iría?

It was time to cross the “line”. A new stage was about to start. Latin America awaited me with all its virtues and defects. How would I fare?

Until next time!

Good Trails,

Damián

Extra Video!

After my phone talk with Kathy students from the Death Valley, I received a beautiful gift in the form of a small video where I could meet in person each of those charming kids that I’ve talked to. I wanted to share that special moment with all of you…

Acknowledgements

To Barry Robertson, ranger at the Turlok Recreational Area: for the demonstrated interest in our trips and the discount for the camping fee!

To Malcom Hiett and Joshua: for rescuing from our tents in the middle of the storm in Greely Hill and allow us to spend the night warmed and dried in that nice cabin in the "Yosemite West Lake" campground.

To Cathy De Cecco & Jeff Crow: for the hospitality you gave us at the Yosemite Village hosting us in your home during our stay in Yosemite Valley.

To Joe & Bev Still and Derek & Leslie Vann: for the animated conversation at the Olmstead Point on my way to the Tioga Pass, the oranges and for asking for the first free hug!!

To Omar Spina and Sandra: for hosting me at your home in Mammoth Lake, for the celebration of my 5 months on the road on that great restaurant, crowned with the dip in the repairing hot springs.

To Gary Laurie: for that rebel spirit towards the traditional way of life, for the information about Death Valley and the map or the region.

To Mark Hull and wife: for giving me some water on the hot roads of the Death Valley when I needed it the most.

To Julia & Stefan: for that surprise encounter full of friendship and camaraderie that will be surely repeated in a no so distant future on the Latin America’s roads.

To George Lawlegg, my neighbor scientist-cyclist in Furnace Creek: fro the company, the great dinner, the hand you gave me by letting me stay at your site, the power gels and the extra lubricant that saved me in more than one occasion!

To Kevin O'Leary: for giving me the opportunity to know the extravagant city of Las Vegas, giving me a place to stay and making sure that I was never hungry!

To Sev, Alex and Raffi, three Armenians that I met in the casino town of Primm, at the border of Nevada and California: for the excitement about my trip and the American flag you gave me to take along during the last days I had riding on their country of adoption.  

To Bernardino Muñoz and Dina López: for giving me a place to spend the night nearby San Diego at the "Golden Eagle Farm" and giving me an example of the exquisite and hot Mexican food.

To Dan Callahan, of Action Cyclery: For the excellent attention and luxury service that you gave Maira, repairing the rear wheel and leaving her ready to ride for hundred of kilometers without troubles.

To Gina Mónaco, Raymund Miranda and Mara: for that homey warmth and sense of family that you gave me during the days I stayed with you in San Diego. Thanks from the bottom of my heart!!!

To David Smith: for the interest you showed for my trip and the contribution to the cause so I could keep my supplies well stocked up.

To Steve Robbins: for the invitation to his house on the coast and the sincere attention dedicated to my trip stories.

To Ronnie & Anna and the rest of Mónaco clan: I enjoyed a day full of emotions and affection in Simi Valley while we degusted that gastronomical feast that was Thanksgiving Day…

And to Marco, Emma and Tonny Fania: for contacting your family members in San Diego, allowing me to share a rich and unforgettable human experience like the one I had with them when they hosted me at their Montreal home as another brother/son.

Some Statistics

Days on the Road: 170

Days on the bike: 111

Kilometers done: 9,428 km (1260 on gravel)

Average kilometers per day: 84.9 km

Hours on the bike: 551h38m (22d23h38m)

Average speed: 17.09 km/h

Maximum speed: 81.5 km/h, descending the Sunwapta Pass (15-08-2007)

Meters climbed: 82,835 m

Maximum altitude: 3023 msnm, Tioga Pass (03-11-2007)

Times I said: “wow” “faaa” and “how crazy” during my first visit to the ‘Strip” in Las Vegas”: Many!

Amount of food eaten during Thanksgiving Day dinner with the Monaco family in Simi Valley: Countless!