Yesterday was great. Three young men from Colombia stopped on the highway to give me water but when they figured out that I was a real traveler, they gave me everything: money, weed, wax, and a six inch sub. The wind went hard against me today though. Twenty plus miles per hour directly in my face and it was still thirty miles to Dalhart, Texas. So I'm riding along with my head down, struggling right, and there next to the shoulder was a twelve pack of Corona. Up till then I was only making about five miles at a stretch but after I downed one of those beers, I rode twelve miles all at once. That beer was like spinach to Popeye. Finally made Dalhart and holed up at Lake Rita Blanca waiting out the wind. I hope to make Texhoma tomorrow.
