Always Listen to Your Brother

I sit beneath the night sky on a secluded roadside rise a few kilometers beyond El Tuito, Jalisco. The elevation is higher, the air cooler, the atmosphere more clear. The stars are seemingly infinite and the moonlight almost bright enough to write by. The only sounds I can hear are a static chorus of nocturnal insects and the clanking of a lone cow's bell in the valley below. Smells of manure and wild grasses on the breeze. Peace.
It's really good to be camping again after having spent the past two nights in the relatively big city of Puerto Vallarta. I stayed at a hostel there, Oasis, which had plenty of good to offer: friendly people, comfortable beds, warm showers, free breakfast, an awesome rooftop terrace on which I spent most of my time. But it was still a hostel, all stereotypes withstanding: kids getting smash drunk to Bob Marley, night after night. Not really my scene and not really my idea of a vacation well spent but... diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks, y'know? I'm not here to judge. Regardless, I deliberately left my "100% Borracho" hat there. Figured someone would appreciate it more than I do.
It's so nice to be out in the sticks again.
I spent just about the entire day climbing, from sea level to about 3,000 feet. Enough to witness a change from tropical to coniferous forest - what that means in zonal elevation down here, I don't know. (Have to ask a forest ecologist.) Everyone I spoke to in PV urged me to take a bus or hitch. I almost did, I had my sign made and everything, then just before leaving I read this electronic message from my brother Jackie:
"The ride out of PV was also one of the most beautiful rides I've ever done, and well worth the shitiness of getting out of town. From my journal: Rode from P.V. on one of the longest, but most breathtakingly beautiful climbs I´ve ever ridden. Up and up through miles of thick jungle, a river raging through the valley below. Parrots streaking by over head. Dripping sweat in the midday heat. Pouring sweat by nightfall. You should ride it. It's so worth the trouble."
So there you have it. Sorry, everyone else, but I'm gonna go with who I know. I'm so glad I did.
It was a gnarly climb, no doubt. (You can generally get an idea of what's in store using your nose: If the acrid stench of burning brakes follows the downhill traffic, you've got a ways to climb!) But all things considered, the dangers were not nearly as clear and present as everyone (else) claimed they would be. The natural wonders of which my brother had wrote were indeed amazing, and I took further advantage of the setting with a mid-climb visit to the Botanical Gardens. If you're ever travelling south of Puerto Vallarta, do yourself a favor and stop there. It's fascinating, beautiful, informative - just as a botanical garden ought to be. And if you really want to treat yourself (which I did - when is the next time I'll be here?!), the food in the restaurant there is phenomenal, some of the best I've had in Mexico. The river of which Jackie wrote runs through the gardens, however less raging and more rolling. As I blissfully floated away the apex of the day in the cool waters, surrounded by rapid-sculpted rocks and lush, green jungle, I thought to myself, "Aren't you glad you didn't just blow past all this beauty in the bed of a pick up?" Yes. Yes, I am glad. Always listen to your brother...