Golden Rules

I stayed in Veracruz just long enough to get the new chain. For the next week, I rode through La Huasteca, a stunning region of lush vegetation, dramatic geology, and azure waterfalls. The kind of fabled paradise sought after by an aging, outcast adventurer giving it one last hurrah, his clumsy but headstrong granddaughter resolved to take up his mantle, and their token ex-military friend, played by The Rock. I just found it on Google Maps.

Grutas Tolantongo (Spanish for Grutas Tolantongo) had been at the top of my list before this trip began, but I reluctantly saved it for the way back. That's always a risk - plans change, routes deviate, and there's a good chance you won't be where you thought you'd be, when you thought you'd be, and, if all has gone well, who you thought you'd be. If I've learned one thing, it's to never postpone anything. There may not be another gas station for 100 miles, and that could be the last pharmacy selling anabolic steroids without a prescription for two blocks. If I've learned another thing, it's to always close your tent flap. If you leave it open, sand will blow inside, mosquitoes will swarm in, and a family of ornery garden gnomes will take up residence and claim squatter's rights.

I rushed to reach Grutas Tolantongo before holy week. There are few places that live up to the hype, but this is one. In addition to the thermal pools, there is a warm, milky blue river, one tributary of which emanates from a cave whose entrance is obscured by a waterfall. The kind of place Dr. Osymandius P. Griswald's daughter Penelope would fall into before turning around and seeing something glinting on a vaguely tribal dais.

Here are some other lessons I've learned:

Never ride at night.

Don't trust anybody named Rudy.

Carry more zip ties than you think you could possibly need.

Trust Mexican drivers, and be wary of Italians.

Take bad roads - they lead to good people.

Of course, this is just my own advice. As Mary Schmich wrote, "advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth."

But trust me about Rudy.