Navojoa to Mazatlan (351 miles)
It’s hard to leave a comfortable bed, good food, and pleasant conversation, but I must continue south. Pleasant winding roads through mountains and country side until Hermosillo where I mount the long straight ribbon of concrete that will take me to Navojoa and then on to Mazatlan. The drone of the engine, and the search for a shady place to stop and drink some water or juice, is constant. In Los Angeles it seems the world is paved, with patches of honest dirt here and there. In Mexico only a thin ribbon of road conveys me through endless expanses of dust, mud, and burning fields. Strong smells of smoke, cattle, and roadside carrion are ever present. Off the ribbon things change suddenly and often treacherously.
