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It was hot.

Riding the bike across the North Western United States I had been in Montana for the first time, and at 104F it was hotter than I had expected.  The south wind was bringing the aroma of wild fires, humidity, and a cloudless sky that stretched on forever.

I was in a new world, a strange and beautiful tortured landscape of sage and clay and painted rocks.  I thought though, that this dry land would go on and on without end even with the motorcycle running wide open at 80 mph. 

I had planned on gas stops every two hours, but there was a stretch that had no towns and no gas until well into the third hour, and I had been trying to make what fuel I had in the tank stretch. 

I finally got into Lewistown with an hour of daylight and an empty tank.  And that night oh, how it rained.   The air started to cool down as I got into town, and the winds had shifted from south to north.  Shortly after eating I found a campsite on the edge of town and I set up a tarp over the bike and a sleeping bag.  Just in time. 

The winds had picked up to almost 50 mph, and a bitter cold rain began to flood my shelter.  I was dry and snug where I was, but everything around me was in an inch of cold water.

When I got up early the next morning to freshen up before the ride I was able to enjoy the clear clean air, smell the fresh water and the grasses from the high prairie.  I had crossed into the Judith Plateau, out of the desert, and all around me was tall green grass for as far as I could see.

I was in the same state as the day before, but in a new state of mind.  The bike tour had gone from an endurance run to a pleasure overnight and all I had done was watch the winds change and the rains do their magic. I still had a long long day ahead of me to get into Western Washington State, but it didn't matter, the worst was over.

I've been in a never ending desert in life too, going from day to day as if it were a marathon through a dry land.  But something changed.  Call it encouragement, call it luck or fate or attitude, the name doesn't matter.  It is a change when you wake up with hope where there wasn't much of that for a long time. 

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Hi JDRide,

I´m not a motobike rider or horse rider. But I liked your photo with the horse and I remembered some years ago, I was looking for a new way of having a great hollidays and I found a trip riding a horse from Veracuz to Mexico City. By the way, I´m mexican.

The idea was to reproduce the trail done by the spanish conquers when they arrived the first time in Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City). It means from the coast up to 2200 m (Mexico City has the same altitude than Denver), In order to get the city from Veracruz (sea level), you need to cross some mountains cover with snow all year.

I tougth it was a great trip, but it was offer only for riders with experience. I hope to have the opportunity to do it sometime.