I wake up to the world spinning. I can’t focus on anything. It’s as if I’ve had way too much to drink, when in fact it’s 5:30am and I’m stone-cold sober. What is wrong with me?
I get out of the tent and nearly fall into a thorny bush. I can barely keep my balance enough to walk.
Spinning. More spinning.
After 30 minutes of this, I vomit. Not much comes up, there’s nothing in my stomach, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.
A little later I stumble off to find a suitable bathroom.
No. No. No, this can’t be happening. We are in the middle of nowhere, stealth camped in some cattle pasture, many miles from a town of any size. And we have to be in Costa Rica soon. I don’t have time to mess around with whatever this is. Ain’t nobody got time for that!
I eat breakfast, cautiously. We pack up and set off, taking the first few miles easy.
And…I feel fine. What the heck was that?! Dehydration? Low blood sugar? Before anyone gets excited, I am NOT pregnant.
Fourteen miles into the day, we hit a big milestone: 10,000 miles! That’s about 7,888,921 rotations of our wheels. Where exactly is 10,000 miles from Houston, if you were to travel a very non-direct route? In Nicaragua, north of León, near Volcán San Cristóbal, surrounded by sugarcane. We celebrated with some juicy oranges in the shade. Then we remembered we are still carrying the sidewalk chalk we picked up in California…
Later when we arrive in León, we get a room at the quaint Casa Ivana run by a friendly Dutch guy, and enjoy an evening stroll around the city.