2001-02-05 - 02:05 p.m.

Hidalgo de Parral marked the start of some of the most boring cycling yet. A quick beer was had at the 26 kilometre mark to celebrate my 10,000th kilometre since Anchorage. Surrounded by parched brown countryside on a straight and featureless road, we couldn't have chosen a better spot to knock back a beer. Camping in a field that night, clear skies made for a record low temperature of -5oC. We awoke to frozen condensation in the tent and frozen water bottles on the bikes, and muttered a quick word of thanks for Jeff and Heath's down sleeping bags. 20 minutes of frozen early morning cycling was enough to convince us to stop for coffee and allow the sun to do its job. Later the same day, we struck Mexico's longest piece of straight road at 92 kilometres. The boredom intensified. Pulling into a small town at the end of the day, we decided a warm night camped in a Pemex station bathroom was preferable to another night of icicles. We were woken at 6.30am as the first customers pulled in for fuel and toilets. Once again, alcohol proved the remedy to an utterly boring day - this time from a passing motorist who first offered us money, and then a bottle of rum. We accepted the latter.

With a population of one million, Durango was our first large city on the Mexican mainland. Heavy traffic and some reckless driving gave us our first taste of the dangers of cycling in a Mexican city. After a day in Durango, Chris decided to cycle on alone, while I opted to give the 3 Canadian 'Wild Mamas' a chance to catch up.

Cycling out alone the following day, strong headwinds and more of the same brown, featureless landscape made for frustrating cycling. An interesting night was had camping in a field with a herd of cows. I was woken several times by loud mooing next to the tent, and again when the entire herd stampeded by early the next morning.

Riding into Zacatecas, I realised my Spanish was improving after the following conversation with a motorist:

"Where are you riding from?"

"Alaska"

"How long did it take you?"

"7 months"

"Where are you going?"

"Argentina"

"ARE YOU CRAZY OR WHAT!"

I nodded in agreement as he drove off.

After days of nothing but a barren landscape, Zacatecas appeared as an oasis; a colonial Spanish town surrounded by steep hills with cobblestone streets weaving between beautiful Spanish buildings, churches, small shady parks and a spectacular cathedral. Arriving late on a Saturday, the streets bustled with the towns young student crowd - readying themselves for a big night in the numerous bars, restaurants and night spots. After a few hours sleep, I decided to investigate a night club called 'La Mina de Eden' (Mine of Eden). After paying a $5 cover charge, I boarded a small train and moments later found myself hurtling 600 metres along a mineshaft into the depths of a hillside. Thumping bass reverberated off the walls as I walked the last 30 metres into the mine. A tight turn revealed an enormous chamber carved out of the rock. A crowd of all ages danced on a platform raised above the stone floor, as waiters served drinks wearing construction helmets. Laser lights bounced from wall to wall. Three steel grates covered vertical shafts in the floor revealing pools of green water, lit from 100 meters below. The atmosphere was incredible. A vaguely familiar song started..."You and me babe, we ain't nothin' but mammals..." I realised I'd last heard it in Inuvik, Arctic Canada, over 5 months ago. My laughter was soon shared with the only other blond-haired gringos present - a Danish couple. The bizarre scene became even more hilarious when she revealed she'd travelled for several months through New Zealand and casually mentioned places as obscure as Waipukerau, Titahi Bay and Auckland. The evening ended with several shots of potent tequila.

Struggling to get out of bed the following day, I located Chris, equally hung over in the Zacatecas Hostel. A reunification beer was called for, followed by more tequila. Thus began the Zacatecas week of alcoholism. Early evenings merged with late mornings and afternoons vanished altogether in an endless fiesta of drinking and dancing with various travellers and Mexicans from the hostel. One morning - after a great display of drunken agility in which he scaled the 30 foot exterior wall of the hostel to get in (An Australian was sitting on the couch beside the front door if he´d only thought to knock) - Chris leapt out of bed and declared his imminent departure. Unfortunately he was barely able to walk. This didn't stop him however, and he managed to ride 20km out of Zacatecas before stopping to sleep in a field.

Several hours after Chris left, the Wild Mamas finally made their long awaited appearance. They were as crazy as I hoped. Christine had a sign on her bike which read "Alaska to Argentina - A bicycle ride for charity." Helena (H) had a "For sale, offers" sign, and Nat carried a life-size plastic chicken called Mullet. (H and Nat had cycled from Winnipeg, Canada. Mullet hailed from Portland. The three had met Christine in La Paz, Baja.) In the words of Nat, Mullet was a hardcore party chick. She proved the hit of the dance floor on a return trip to La Mina. A waiter was even willing to exchange his helmet for a chance to dance with the funky chicken.

This morning, two more familiar cyclists arrived - Swiss Cheese Dave and Ursala. Dave has been ill with food poisoning and they´ve made slow progress south as a result.

Finally we've managed an alchohol-free night, and Team Wild Mamas/Kiwi will attempt to escape Zacatecas tomorrow morning - the first morning I'll have seen in a week.

Wisdom for the week: I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.

Total distance cycled: 10685km

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