Sunday July 20th
I'm laying on the bed in the Hostal El Farol, staring at the fan and the ceiling fifteen feet above me, as the rain buckets down into the courtyard outside my window.
I left Real de Catorce yesterday after an equally rain filled night. Seeing the lightning flash light my room behind closed eyelids and hearing the distant thunder in my half-sleep . Vaguely aware of the steady convergence of thunder and light until a loud crack and flash fill the air, then the gradual divergence as I drift back to sleep.
The morning was bright and crisply cool. The steep cobble streets were wet and I went slipping and sliding down the hill out of town, barely holding it all together.
The high plain below the Real de Catorce gorge is filled exclusively with Joshua trees and low scrub as far as the eye can see. Miles and hours later the temperature begins to rise and the landscape is a forest of ten foot tall cholla cacti. As I near Parras it is warm and the land is flat and farmed.
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| View f rom my room, Real de Catorce |
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| Real de Catorce |
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| Hostal El Farol, Parras de la Fuente |
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| The route in green |
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