Did someone say "plans?"

Sometimes I go to bed with one plan and wake up with a different one. Last night I went to bed trying to come up with some sort of plan, woke up with no plan, then had a plan present itself to me when I got the following email from Lou:

"I had to go to the emergency clinic on Monday. I have a upper respiratory infection, acute rhinitis, and the flu. They have me on four different kinds of meds. Slowly getting better."

Lou hadn't been feeling well when I left for Baja and things had gotten worse. It sucks being sick, and it sucks worse being sick and alone. So even though he didn't ask, I knew I wanted to be there for him—if for no other reason than to put my mind at ease. It's not right that I'm having fun while he's not.

It turns out he hasn't been totally alone. Laura and Scott (who are camped a couple of washes away) have been checking on him and bringing homemade soup. That's good. Thanks, guys.

Sometimes it seems like anything below the border is so far away, and such an ordeal to get there. But aside from taking care of the paperwork, it's just a matter of driving. I was only about 190 miles away. About a half tank of gas. Phoenix is farther from Lou's camp. So I left the campground south of San Felipe at breakfast and rolled up to Lou's trailer a little after lunch. That included creeping through some small towns with low speed limits, speed bumps and tons of stop signs. It included stopping to exchange pesos for dollars. It included getting fish tacos. It included the wait at the border. No big deal. Especially when doing it for a friend.