Matt, going in the other direction but we camp together. He started riding in Panama two months ago, now has about a week left on his trip to Mexico. Hails from Leadville, returning to take a job in Carbondale, we exchange appreciations of the excellent cycling in those parts.
Matt’s traveling light: a tarp, no sleeping mat or bag, just a sewn up the side fleecy sack and tiny fleece blanket he ended up buying somewhere ago anticipating Highland chill. I confirm that he won’t need it anymore, so he gives it to our host, Tino. No cooking gear, not even a spoon. He has a camera and a book. One pair of sandals, one riding outfit, one off bike outfit of shorts and a buttoned shirt, no rain jacket (which he laments), a ball cap. As much food as fits in his jersey pockets is what he has.
I’m rolling with about twice as much stuff as he is, my excess makes me smile.
Been having a tremendous time on back roads, wild camping, sometimes in a dry culvert, sometimes at a restaurant or barn. Has me cracking up with stories of circling through slums in Panama City after landing because he didn’t have a map, of having drunk pissing Hondurans catch him sleeping in a ditch and giving him a thumbs up.
We joke toward midnight, the clinking collection of empties our witness. Matt’s pedaling in a perfect style.