Dusk falls as my Enfield and I pull into the tiny town of Jesus María village. It took all day to ride the winding mountain road here from Durango; two hundred miles of swoops and dips, climbs in altitude and falls to scorching valleys. It’s the kind of ride Kaleidos and I could spend a winter dreaming of, twisting half-broken pavement designed for us to bounce across. The mountain scenery of the Sierra Madres is spectacular. Colorful cliffs thrusting upwards, resplendent bands of pink and white running along the rock faces like bright ribbons. Though I delight in the sensation, the rhythmic pulsing of the curves and the beating heart of my thumper’s engine, fading daylight also presses down on my thoughts. Somehow it all takes longer than it should, the trip ETA forever hanging at “3 hours to destination.” I’m very aware that I still need a place to stay for the night & to be off the road by darkness.