San Marcos Tlapazola and the long way back

The road out of Tlacolula drops you onto a two-track that winds through agave and corn before the climb toward San Marcos. I had no idea the village market would still be running at noon on a Sunday. Stalls of dried chiles and plastic buckets and a woman selling memelas from a comal on the ground. I leaned the bike against a wall and ate standing up.

The climb out of the valley is the kind that doesn't announce itself. You're just suddenly working harder, and the view behind you has opened up — the whole Tlacolula arm of the valley, patchwork fields, the dark line of the mountains north toward Ixtlán. I stopped twice to take it in, or to rest, probably both.

The descent back toward the highway is loose chert over packed dirt, the kind that wants to slide out from under you on the curves. You learn to stay heavy on the back wheel and trust the tires. They held.

Back on the highway for the last five kilometers, the wind was in my face and a truck passed close enough that I felt the pressure wave. The usual. Then the turnoff onto my road, the dust, the dogs, home.