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I am in Mazatlan. Mexico. With my bike. My heavily-laden bike. And having a bit of a melt-down. I arrived a little less than a week ago and spent a few days in a nice little hotel in the Historic Centre part of Mazatlan: nice, friendly, low-key. I went out on the bike for a pleasant 40-ish km ride to make sure everything had survived the flight intact. And to test my reassembly as it came out of the box. Then I relocated to a hotel on the Malecon, for a different experience. A mistake. Touristy, not really appealing. But that's not my problem. Not my big problem. I'm here primarily to have fun, do a bit of riding, a bit of exploring and to enjoy the winter away from the cold and snow of Canada. (Unfortunately, that also means away from the warmth of my wonderful Bev.) My initial plan is/was to ride up to Durango, 300+ km away, but I am now overwhelmed by the enormity of that task. The route is seriously hilly: I will have to ride/walk up 9000 metres for a net gain of 2000 m...

There was light drizzle when we checked out of the purple suite. Back down the hill and across the Labe. The last crossing and our last view of the river. cycle.travel directed us to Prague along a route that crossed the canal at the locks and bridge that we had seen, looking down from the top of the hill the previous evening. Looking back along the canal. While we were parked for this photograph, two elderly (our age!) couples (that we had noticed at our pension breakfast) passed us, presumably also on their way to Prague. I was surprised to learn that we were not always to last to get started each morning. The day continued overcast, through nondescript countryside. Pleasant enough but nothing special. All the same, it was our last day riding and we felt a little sad about that. Our suggested route wanted us to cross a bridge that had a barrier across it. There didn't seem to be any alternatives so, hoping we weren't breaking any serious Czech law that would have us languishi...

 After our pleasant social stay in Dresden, we continued upstream. The weather was not especially fine but the riding was still relaxed and pleasant.  Sometimes the houses had eyes with which to follow us... Through the trees, beside the tracks, under the cliffs... A little damp but our raingear was up to the task. We rode only as far as Bad Schandau on Monday; we had planned a further day sight-seeing with our friend Bernd and his son for the following day. I had first met Bernd in Texas at a rock-climbing area in El Paso, Texas thirty years ago. We had then travelled to California for more climbing and now he wanted to show me the area where he had learned to climb: Saxon Switzerland, between Dresden and the Czech border. (The climbing continues on the Czech side of the border.) It is quite a well-known area amongst climbers, with a fearsome reputation for very traditional climbs with the potential for long falls. The climbs ascend sandstone towers and we saw the first of th...