Riding the roads of Mexico, so far, has been a fairly safe experience. You do encounter road surfaces with quite a range of quality and some, like these, are in the process of construction. Nevertheless, they do get you from A to B and some have had wide shoulders to ride on. 99% of truck drivers have been highly respectful and waited behind me for a gap in traffic to pass. The 1% who don't give you quite a fright but I've lived to tell the story!
After putting in such a big, fairly relentless shift in the States, I told myself that I would stop at the first opportunity in Mexico for a decent break from the bike and just relax. I have been so incredibly lucky to stay with Perla and her family in Nuevo Casas Grandes and have felt so at home here. I couldn't have asked for a more gorgeous, intelligent, welcoming and good humoured host and it will be a wrench to leave tomorrow.
I have been introduced to many facets of Mexican culture during my stay, none more interesting to me than food. On Sunday night Ismael, on the left, cooked us a mighty asador - BBQ - of beef, chillis, potatoes etc and gave me my first clamatas- beer mixed with tomato juice, lime juice, salt and pepper.
A friend of the family, Eduardo, runs four ranches around Casas Grandes and invited me out to see how they are run. It was really interesting to see how the desert conditions are carefully managed to get the best out of the land, successful ranches don't happen by chance, you need to put a lot of effort into them. Eduardo is pretty fluent in English as he attended a local Mormon school in his youth; run by Americans, all the instruction was in English.
Babysitting! I had to make myself useful during my stay and lend a hand. Andres, the brother of Perla, left his kids with us while he attended a meeting. Absolutely loveable kids, incredibly sweet but after a few hours running around after them, trying to get a better handle on my Spanish, I was exhausted! I guess it doesn't help that I was out in a bar until the early hours of the previous night (just making the point that I'm not too old to go out for a night on the tiles).
Spencer is an American guy living in Casas Grandee who is passionate about promoting tourism in the area. He works with local artists and renovated traditional homes to help boost tourism (above making money). I completely agree with his view that warnings about safety in the area are unfounded as regards tourists. Yes, there have been some issues with drug cartels in Northern Mexico in the past but these problems are now over and tourists were never targeted. If I'd listened to some friends' advice I would have completely skipped this area and missed out on so much. Thank goodness I decided to follow my own instincts, have faith in the people's and just crack on with the journey.
Paquime is one of Northern Mexico's most important archaeological sites and, while there are probably going to be greater treasures to see as I get to the south, this was a great introduction to Mexico's indigenous culture. The area also boasts great potteries based around the small town of Mata Ortiz. I was severely tempted to buy a piece but was unsure of how it would last the journey strapped to my bike. 
More earning my keep, a morning spent in the local primary school. Any hopes of sitting back, observing from the back of the classroom son evaporated as I was asked to lead a few activities for the whole class. Good fun but exhausting! Six days immersed in Nexican culture has been fantastic and, though I am my harshest critic when it comes to Spanish, my listening skills are slowly picking up and, more than just ordering a beer or meal, my conversational level is improving. A lot of local dialect to grapple with still! 
After tough days cycling through the Gila Wilderness, plagued by punctures and fatigue, boy was I glad to make it to Silver City! More a bustling little desert town than a city, it has a charming downtown area with quaint cafes, a thriving art scene and a great library. If it weren't for my determined drive to finish the Great Divide, I could have stayed here for a few days.
I was glad to get here and so was my ailing steed. I put her into the bike shop for much needed TLC and the team at Gila did a great job. New chain, new cassette, new brake blocks, brake cables etc etc. I was particularly glad to get some of Gila's special two year guaranteed puncture-free tubes fitted: 40% thicker than normal tubes with self-sealing lubricant to fix punctures from within. Well worth the extra expense. I've also downsized from 2.25 inch to 1.75 inch tyres as I'll be doing more road work than tracks now. The next day the tyres felt so nimble and, with the refreshed drivechain, the bike was riding like a dream. The only issue I had with narrower tyres was that they sank into the very sandiest tracks so I had to dismount (or fall off a couple of times) and push the heavy bike through the sand.
Trish kindly hosted me in Silver City and I had a wonderful stay. She is a great cook, has a lovely pack of dogs and a very comfortable home. A Kiwi by birth, Trish has lived right around the globe and I enjoyed hearing her stories of life in Australia, Papua New Guinea, South Africa and, of course, the States. 
As I said, the bike handled like a dream and I soon skipped across the desert south towards the Mexican border. I encountered a few roadrunners along the way but even they couldn't outpace the bike. A hurricane had reportedly hot Baja California and the fringes of the storm passed over New Mexico making for an overcast day with slightly cooler riding conditions.
Final crossing of the Continental Divide, #32. After weeks and weeks of riding at elevations of 7000ft + it has felt really strange to descend to 4-5000 ft. And it's certainly getting warmer at these lower altitudes.
Unexpectedly, my final night in the States was spent under a roof as the community centre at Hachita opens its doors to Great Divide bikers and Continental Divide hikers. For me, these basic conditions constitute real luxury. Not having to camp, not having to cook on a stove, not having to not wash - nice to have a break from these things. Best of all, there was a solitary beer in the fridge which I gratefully consumed in celebration of my time in the States.
The next morning the sky was clear and, travelling east, I had the breeze behind me. I made the 45 miles across to Columbus in just three hours and, after writing this post, I will ride the final three miles to cross the border to Puerto Palomas. It's tremendously exciting to be crossing into a new country and I'm looking forward to the challenge of speaking Spanish and navigating my way across a vast country.
Since riding south from the I-10 Interstate Highway there has hardly been any traffic except for border patrol trucks. This gives the area a slightly eerie atmosphere and I felt like I was travelling through a kind of no-man's land. At one point a helicopter passed over me and I feared they were buzzing me, a suspected Mexican migrant, trying to travel back south before Trump's dream of a wall is realised.
AGONY: After suffering just one puncture in nearly two months my luck ran out between Grants and Silver City. In four days I had to stop six times to repair punctures and, invariably, I seemed to stop in places with no shelter, the sun beating down on me as I desperately tried to find the hole(s) in my tubes. At one stop before Pie Town my inner tubes resembled sieves, with multiple puncture points caused by tiny goathead thorns. This induced 'puncture paranoia' - hypersensitive feeling for my tyres, nervously stopping to check pressure levels in the belief they were deflating. Sometimes they were, sometimes they weren't. Stressful, but if you can't fix a puncture you shouldn't really be on the Trail.
AGONY/ECSTASY: My worst day for punctures was on the approach to Pie Town. Yes, Pie Town. I made an extra early 6:30am start to ensure I made the 69 miles to to the restaurants before 4pm closing, giving myself some contingency time 'just in case'. I had a glorious morning's ride through the relatively flat semi-desert. Red earth and occasional stretches of lava fields evoked the Great Rift Valley of Africa. Then in the afternoon the inner tube sieve moment happened and an hour of repairs threatened to derail all my efforts to get there. But, I had to get my pie! Head down, ridiculous frenzied cycling got me to Pie Town by 3:10pm and I was able to have my pie (peach-cinammon). How did it taste? No idea, I shovelled it down barely tasting it, exhausted from the ride.
ECSTASY: Getting to Pie Town, frenzied, but early at least gave me some downtime and I enjoyed listening to The Who on a tapedeck. The next day, feeling well rested and inspired by the tales of Amaya and Eric, I set off with the plan of just making good progress. All about mind management, I planned to ride in 15 mile segments taking 15 minute food/water breaks between each segment. No looking at the bigger picture and, for once, forcing myself to break, not ride on. By late afternoon I'd made 75 miles comfortably and, with half-decent roads and gentle descent ahead of me I challenged myself to make 100 miles. Though I had to ride on into the dark I made it!
ECSTASY: Here is my campsite I found in the dark - Beaverhead Work Centre for forest rangers. I shouldn't really camp here but it was Saturday night, no-one was around and forest rangers are pretty supportive of bicycle tourists. This may not look it at first glance, but this really was a luxury campsite. Flat ground, toilet block and, most importantly of all, a precious water pump. It is so dry out here that you have to plan your water stops carefully and sometimes drink sparingly; not great for the body in a hot and dry climate. 
DOUBLE AGONY: after the high of making 100 miles the next day was so tough! No doubt the fatigue of the previous day had an effect but mostly it was the hard the trail conditions; constantly undulating, terrible surfaces - washboarded, soft gravel, protruding rocks, loose rocks. The day didn't start well as I had to fix yet another puncture which meant that, by the time I got started, it was already seriously warming up. I was trying really hard but by 4pm had only covered just over 30 miles. I felt genuinely dejected and when I began to have issues with my rear derailleur and yet another puncture, I began to feel a little helpless. Nevertheless, I managed to, because I had to, fix each problem and in the end made 66 miles by the end of the day. I camped at 7:30, no cooking, just peanut butter sandwiches and energy bars and a good glug of water and straight to bed.
AGONY: I had some close, potentially hazardous, encounters with animals on this day. In the setting sun I couldn't see the road that well and was inches from running over a large rattlesnake (not this little one, I didn't dare go back to take a photo of the one I nearly squashed). Then, minutes later two unleashed dogs set upon me and I only just warded them off with the threat of stones before their owner came and took responsibility for his violent beasts.
This sign is not joking, if there is intense, prolonged rainfall the track turns into a sludgy soup of sand and mud that soon clogs up your mudguards. As I found when I tried to ride through a couple of spots! You have to get off your bike and wheel it round off track where you face the menace of spikes from the drought-adapted plants like the cacti below.
