It was to be the final week of pedalling and it started oh so well as we soaked our aches and pains away into boiling pools of volcanic water. But as we distanced ourselves from their healing powers we needed them more than ever as news trickled through the sparse airwaves that we'd have to redraw our life plans and change tack once again. Something we are now so used to that you'd expect us to get over it quickly, but this time was different. The wound being so deep. The fun of climbing mountains, munching corn, putting up with rain and long bus journeys were all awaiting us while we grappled with the big decision hanging over our heads.

What a start to the week, it was 7 years to the day that we'd been together! For which we needed a good treat, or at least had a great excuse for one, and what better place than at some hot springs. This morning the pools of lukewarm soupy sweat had been emptied and replenished with fresh boiling spring water that we tip toed daintily into one by one: myself, followed by Oscar, then finally Gus and Ruth who'd lasted a little longer without getting up. This was yet another farewell though as the guys were off back to Querétaro that morning. So we made the most of our last few hours together, soaking away our troubles in good company and sharing yet another traditional 'Gus and Oscar' breakfast of chilaquiles. The masses slowly trickled away as the day wore on and the place seemed to return to a more pleasant normality although only really emptying out late into the afternoon allowing us to rest slightly more easily and enjoy our anniversary celebrations.

To get a jump on the remaining hot spring stragglers we sprung out of bed at around 5am to take a dip and record some podcast material in the process, successfully so as there wasn't a peep from the neighbours. But we knew that the time had once more arrived to take the bikes on the big climb out of the valley the hot springs were hiding in and make for what we thought would be our final stop, Pachuca, where we were to catch a bus to Mexico City. We ate our way through a couple of small eateries along the way, including some return custom to a couple kind ladies selling gorditas, but at the second Ruth showed me her phone with a face of dread hung over her. On the screen the subject of an email was half visible and she muttered to me "I'm too scared to read this...". It was an email from the company that had offered her a job the previous month and it didn't look good. Sadly they were getting in touch a couple of weeks before the expected start date to say that they had taken a U-turn and were cancelling all hiring; that of course included Ruth's dream job. The news cast a dull shadow on the rest of the already drizzly day and left us with little strength to progress beyond the next town where we stopped for the night with a bottle of red wine, some tortillería food and the sharing of our initial thoughts of where to go from here.

Things are always better in the morning but the news of the previous day had come as quite a shock so would take a little time to scab over. One thing was however abundantly clear. There was no immediate rush back to Europe any more, which meant we could postpone our home coming flight and keep the show rolling for another few weeks! A mix of Brexit paper work and a mental state of having reached the end impeled us to make it home for Christmas so, as things stand at least, we'll be hopping on a plane on the 14^th December. But reorganising this all took time, tedious time, on the internet navigating various train, flight, hotel, wine tasting and meal reservations we had made propping up our homecoming. This as well as thinking about what to do with our new found time and giving our souls some respite in order to reboot kept us busy for the day and held us into the same town we'd crawled into the day before.

We now had to make some progress, so we left the hotel in the morning heading out to roll over the rugged hills that presented themselves to us. Then with some space in our bellies we pulled over in a small hamlet just before Actopan as a bunch of ladies giggling away over flaming pots of food and a bustling atmosphere enticed us into a restaurant we will never regret visiting. They say that the taste of food is flavoured with the mood and personality of the chef (well if they don't say that then they should!) and this food was, big statement time, the best we'd tried so far in Mexico, Las Cazuelitas. Bright, colourful and punching your taste buds with flavours full of joy. The waiting staff slapped down plates of food with huge smiles on their faces and it was all too contagious after the first mouthful! After the feast we were tempted by some takeaway sponge cake on offer but with a belly full it would be a while till we'd have been able to acomodate more nourishment. Actopan was nearby and we found the cheapest lodging we could to continue the healing process we were still going through. With little need for dinner after such a huge lunch we were left to our devices and didn't exactly make the most of the town itself, preferring to hide away in the comfort of a room.

The route for the day was unclear from the start, we had to climb up onto a high plateau no matter what but weren't sure whether to head to Pachucha or a quint little town hidden away in the mountains that would be pretty but required some further effort to reach. Well the first leg up to the plateau almost killed us anyway as we picked the dirt road route which was insanely steep, deteriorated and stunning all at the same time. We pushed our little bodies beyond the mental point of no return as we ascended the criss-crossing way up the hillside, all the while thanking the Aztec god of clouds for his kind offer of cover from the tropical sunshine. Summiting this beast was a relief and left us in yet another restaurant debating our next move. Flat road to town or another big hill to village... Well typical me set to convincing Ruth to take on the torturous climb while typical Ruth gravitated towards the easy way to comfort. This time the suffering won out and we climbed up the back way to Mineral del Chico, a little mining town with a huge Cornish influence where pasties are still sold and little cottages line the winding roads. Although it sounds like bad idea on the face of it, it was just what we needed. Getting away from the hustle and bustle of town life and into the rarely traversed roads on the back country really set us at easy and gave us the space we needed to decide truly what we want to dedicate the next few weeks to. This was probably the best stretch we've cycled in Mexico, right up there with the climb to the top of Ceboruco, and could have been even better if we hadn't of climbed up into the foggy cloud layer which obscured the views and slowly turned to rain as we descended the other side towards the village. So all cold and wet we trundled over the cobbled ground into a campsite, although we started to wonder what the hell the place really was as pumping music came flooding out of the otherwise silent, mist blanketed hillside and we passed a large group of people sheltered under a huge boulder. It all felt like a dream behind our tied eyes and it turned out the place was basically closed but was used as a campsite for climbers into bouldering. We were allowed to stay and put the tent up inside a half finished building to keep the rain off over night. The nearest shop was too far away for us to contemplate visiting, and back the way we'd come somewhere in the fog, so we dined on chocolate milk, biscuits and Japanese style peanuts before a 14 hour stint inside the tent to hide from the relentless drizzle.

The rain wouldn't stop and after leaving the campground late in the morning we sheltered in the first place we hit upon in the town of El Chico after the torturous decent on hagged cobbles and watched TV over a long dinner/breakfast/lunch of chilaquiles and enfrijoladas. A few hot coffees later we were both crying inside about the thought of an 800m climb up the mountain in the rain to get to Pachuca and the bus out of the state. The village I'm sure was lovely, but under a blanket of wet fog we had little desire to hang around and tried our luck at the bus stop where little people carriers shuttled folks from Pachuca to the various settlements strewn over the mountain range. It was a big ask to fit the bikes into one of these but after taking the pedals and front wheel off we were able to squeeze them over three seats thanks in large part to the patience of the driver. A quick pit stop of Cornish/Mexican pasties helped us to the bus terminal where we caught the last bus to Puebla; where we'd be meeting up once again with the lovely Dennis and Liz who we'd met in Pátzcuaro a few week before. We arrived in the dark and rolled the dice when deciding to cycle to a hotel in the centre, blinding following our phones maps, knowing that every town has its dodgy neighbourhoods somewhere... But we had no issues and had yet another delicious meal once we'd sorted our crap out at the hotel: molotes and peludas. A nice guy placing a massive order from the take away gave us to low down and plenty of tips, basically these things were similar to calzones and another take on the bap like "tortas" respectively. If there is one thing I'd like to say it's that they really don't skimp on the fillings round these parts...

Puebla seemed pretty banged up in the morning and on asking a random feller on the street where we could grab a bite to eat he told us to head to the aptly named "Mercado de los Sabores", seemed fair enough. Well, we arrived there to a chorus of 'Come and eat here', 'Try our Pozole', 'We have enchiladas, chile en nogada, tortas de...', 'Look at all the stuff we have on our massively impressive menu...'... Jesus Christ guys just leave us alone! It was chaos and we decided to walk off to make a decision rather than be pressured by the crazy guys running the stalls. So we tried to distance ourselves from the maddening crowd and, once we thought we'd made it, heard a whispering from behind... 'We have menudo, aquas frescas, sopa de panza...' these words came tumbling out of a teenage waitress's mouth who'd been stalking us the whole time holding her menu a few inches from the back of our heads! OK there was nothing for it but to sit down in the nearest place to get these fuckers off our backs before all our hair falls out from the stress. The food was predictably very average, when they spend more effort harassing people than cooking food, and left having learnt our lesson. The day was a stroll round town popping into churches, grand old libraries and squares. We found a lady selling burger like 'cemitas' from a little stall hidden away near the centre and they were absolutely delicious! No stress or shouting involved... Then the tour of Pueblan gastronomy continued with the sweet stuff, already on the list was a churro shop we'd been told about the night before and some custard like 'cremitas' Ruth had set her sights on. These were lovely but we also spotted a great looking bakery and just had to try it, making it the 'Ruth the full Ruth and nothing but the Ruth!' (family joke, sorry). With a belly full we cycled over to Cholula to meet up with Liz and Dennis who we'd be taking a ride with down to Oaxaca to spend our final few weeks. The town was buzzing and we circled the impressive pyramid that was mounted by a stunning looking church in the centre before seeing the evening away till late in their campervan over home made pizza, tequila and TV.