Verse from “Everything is Broken” – Bob Dylan:

Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you’re chokin’,
Everything is broken.

This has been the theme of the ride since entering Colorado. In fact I brought it up so many times, I’m sure Chuck is sick and tired of me referring to the song. Our first experience was entering the small town of Horca, where our supply chain broke. After one of our toughest riding days we were excited to go to the only store/restaurant in this small town to re-supply since we were depleted thanks to a rain delay in the mountains. We had a backup plan to overnight near another little restaurant along the way, which was supposed to be closed only on Mondays. Of course it turned out to be closed Tuesdays too and with limited supplies we could not afford to wait the extra day. Although a nuisance, we were not going to starve since we stayed at a little campground that sold snacks. Nothing like Snickers, Twizzlers and potato chips for dinner – YUM! Actually this unfortunate series of events led to us meeting Clara and Joe Bush (Stella too!) , a very serentripitous event indeed. (You will hear more about Clara and Joe in a future post.)

Luckily we did not wither away and continued on our ride over Indiana Pass, the highest point along the entire GDMBR. When we got to the top I made the mistake of telling Chuck this was the best I felt since we started. I guess my fitness level was finally catching up with the elevation gains. This elevation elation did not last long since now our bodies were broken. We both experienced flu-like symptoms and had to hole up in Del Norte for two extra days. In hindsight, I think we actually had minor cases of Altitude Sickness. We decided to make the best of it though, which was difficult since everything was broken:

• Our mobile phones worked sporadically at best.
• The local Internet cafe remained closed on a day when it was supposed to be open.
• The Casa De Madera sports store, where we had new tires delivered, had a handwritten note in the window saying it was closed for a couple of days. (We eventually tracked down the shipment by staking out the main drag and stopping every UPS truck that drove by.)
• The air hose at the only service station in town was out of order, so we could not install our new tubeless tires.
• Etc., etc., etc.

Although not feeling 100% we decided to continue on our way to Salida where we would find the first bike shop in nearly 1,000 miles to tune up our broken bikes. We were happy to be back on the road and I spent hours thinking about the one word that best described the landscape. At one point we rode through a red canyon covered in light colored Aspens and dark Pines that made it feel like we were insignificant pedestrians in a Monet painting. The word I finally settled on was “Majestic”, which made me better appreciate the line “… for purple mountain majesties” from “America, the Beautiful” written in 1893 by Katherine Lee Bates. (BTW, I’ve since learned she was inspired coincidently by the magnificence of Pike’s Peak in Colorado.)

Along the way more things broke. The hard drive on Chuck’s computer crashed. A rear spoke on my bike broke, which of course was on the drive side so we could not replace it. On one day I had three flats and that night an ember catapulted out of the campfire, landed right between my legs and burned a hole in my air mattress. Every water pump along the way was broken and to make matters worse our water purifier stopped working. I can’t count how many times I said to Chuck, “see, everything is broken.” Chuck being far more patient and even-keeled just took it all in stride. I could not ask for a better traveling companion.

Even though the road was broken we limped into Salida. The best way to sum up this town is by Chuck’s first comment, “Why can’t every town we go through be like this?” It was nirvana for two guys who needed an emotional lift. Great little restaurants, shops, and most importantly people, since everybody was friendly and helpful. We made our way to Absolute Bikes, where we met Scot – mechanic extraordinaire. Although he was swamped he worked on our bikes immediately and generously took time to educate us on the finer points of bike maintenance on the trail. I guess he felt this was necessary since he didn’t have to replace one, but seven spokes on my rear wheel.

We were almost disappointed that Scot tuned our bikes so quickly, because we had no excuse to spend an extra day in this most excellent town. We decided to make a night of it at a local watering hole, where we were lucky enough to have Scot join us for a couple of thank you beers. We also decided to do some laundry and of course the only change machine in the unattended laundromat was broken and the washer did not drain water, so there was a small river running across the floor. The theme continued.

The next morning we had a nice breakfast and ran a few errands that took a lot longer than they should have. Subconsciously I think we were putting off the 2500′ climb that started the day, which turned out to be easier than we thought on our newly tuned bikes. It finally seemed we were back on track … not! Feeling good we started to make our way down the hill towards Hartsel, where we were told Bob Dylan has a ranch nearby and sometimes hangs out at the local tamale shop with his guitar. We joked that it would be ironic if he played our theme song, but we never made it. In my euphoric state of surviving another long climb and having a solid bike again I failed to recognize a patch of sand and went flying over the handle bars. As I lay writhing on the ground in pain, I “weaved a tapestry of profanity” that cannot be repeated. My tirade started all over again when I looked at my mangled rear dérailleur. I simply could not believe something else was broken; it was starting all over again.

Chuck being the ultimate riding partner took control and glided the bike down to Salida to have Scot patch it back together again. Meanwhile I hung out at the top muttering, “I can’t &^%$# believe it.” Before he left I requested one thing – ICE, and lots of it. Of course Scot jumped on the problem immediately and actually took the dérailleur apart and put it back together again. Almost any other mechanic would have simply declared it irreparable and sold us a new one. Chuck solicited a ride from a local with a pick-up truck (not a white one) and made it back to camp within a few hours. I wrapped my bruised elbow in ice and went to sleep anxious to see Bob at the tamale shop the next day.

Unfortunately when I woke up my elbow had other ideas; it basically had limited range of motion and could not support any weight. Time to go back down to Salida to have it checked out. (By this time I’m sure most of the people in town were tired of seeing us.) I thought about checking if Scot could fix it, but ultimately decided to go to the emergency room. The tremendous Dr. Pat Miller confirmed what I hoped against with all my will. It was Broken. On the bright side he said this was the best way to break one’s arm, which made me feel a whole lot better … not. The fracture in the radial neck is so minor it doesn’t require a cast, but does need time to heal. Dr. Miller was almost as disappointed as me in the results of the x-ray and understood the ramifications on our goal to get to Canada. He employed the help of an orthopedic specialist to explore all possible options. Unfortunately the best was to stay off the bike for at least 3 weeks.

The only thing not broken was our desire to finish this trip, so we went back to Absolute Bikes with our sob story and Shawn, the owner, stepped up to the plate and graciously offered to store our bikes and gear at his house while we recuperated back in Chicago. Now getting from Salida to Chicago is not the most straightforward proposal, but our exercise in doing so is the true moral of the story. Dr. Pat Miller, a very busy man who travels between Salida and Denver with a variety of medical responsibilities, gave us a ride to Denver the next day so we could fly back to Chicago. As if that wasn’t enough, he checked his schedule and offered to shuttle us to Salida when we return to Denver. Without people like Clara & Joe, Scot, Shawn and Pat I’m not sure I would be so gung-ho to return to the trail, but they have more than made up for the obstacles we’ve faced and we are lucky to have met them.

Another irony to this story is that about a month ago I was going 40 mph on my motorcycle when another driver drove his minivan into me. Although I was slammed to the pavement I walked away with only a couple of bruises; everybody said I was lucky. This time there were no other vehicles involved, I was traveling 1/2 the speed and landed in sand. Again there was a sentiment I was lucky, because I only slightly broke my arm. I’m not sure I can handle any more of this good luck.

GDMBR Day 11: Grants to San Mateo Spring We were up and packed fairly early the next morning. We decided to forgo the tasty donut hole breakfast and elected for something a little more substantial. The Grants Cafe served up a good breakfast even if the ambiance was a little heavy on the Route 66 schtick.The last thing we needed to take care of before leaving town was sending an email to Stan at Stan’s No Tubes, the maker of our tires. Willy’s tire had started to deform on the way into Grants and it looked to be a manufacturing defect from our perspective. The nearest Stan’s dealer on the route was about 400 miles away so we were hoping we might be able to have Stan mail a replacement tire out to us. So we stopped by the Mission Cafe to send one final email before heading back into the wilds and then hopped in the saddle, quite happy to be leaving Grants.The suggested mileage today seemed a little light at just over 20 miles but we soon found out why. We were climbing almost the entire day. It was really a pretty uneventful day. Stopping in the shade for a dry tuna sandwich and passing the Northern New Mexico correctional center were the highlights. After some of the excitement we’ve encountered it was good to have a calm day. We made it into camp early and sat around in the camp chairs enjoying the nice meadow of pines and aspen trees. By the time we made cheddar brats for dinner, sat around the campfire and went exploring to find the natural spring down the road we were both feeling a bit antsy like we should have pushed on further. We retired early to another clear night and a spectacular sky of a myriad of stars, satellites and even the occasional shooting star.GDMBR Day 12: San Mateo Spring to Hunter’s CampgroundAfter a breakfast of Maple and Brown Sugar oatmeal we had another early start. The first 10 miles or so were all downhill. We saw more cairns and arrows pointing the way for the group which was in front of us. They were becoming more frequent so I guessed the pack must be splintering. Unfortunately once the downhill ended so did the shade and the trees. We were back to the New Mexico we knew and yearned to leave behind.We only saw one car the whole day. We found it quite funny that the driver stopped to tell us we were going the wrong way. He worked in the area and assured us the road we were on would dead end into the mine and that we had missed a turn. He even reviewed our map and was sure if we were headed the right way we’d encounter locked gates and be forced to turn back. After he drove off Willy and I discussed it and we went with my 6th sense when it comes to navigation and forged ahead. About three miles down the road we turned off on a little dirt road and continued on the route. It just confirmed again how far off the beaten path we are. Tiny roads which people pass by every day without noticing are our everyday route. We spent most of the day riding around some spectacular lava formations and through arroyos. It was sandy at times which made for some difficult riding. Dipping in and out of the arroyos made for some technical riding as you tried to pick the most efficient line.Unfortunately the rough roads also made it a rough day for gear. I had been carrying a 6L MSR DromLite bag which was bungeed on to the BOB bag. Willy was riding in front for a good portion of the day so I didn’t have him as a spotter when it fell out. I didn’t realize until almost 20 miles after it happened. Luckily we had enough water in our bottles and Camelbaks so it wasn’t a serious problem. It would have been a much bigger problem when my BOB broke had we not been able to fix it. Coming through an arroyo suddenly it felt like I was pedaling in molasses — I turned around and saw my BOB dragging behind me through the dirt. I had lost a nut holding the main pivot point together and when it came apart the trailer and bolt had bent pretty severely. We set about pounding things back into shape with rocks and found we didn’t have any replacement nuts. Luckily the lock nuts on Presta valves are the same threading so I twisted a few of those on with LocTite and decided to hope for the best. We’re getting to be pretty good at making do with what we have.A mile before our targeted campsite for the night the map showed a natural spring so we decided to fill up. As we rounded the corner we were surprised to find three other people there. They were backpackers hiking the CDT. They’d done the AT and PCT in the previous two years and were now finishing up the third of the “Triple Crown” of long distance hiking trails. If anyone thinks we’re crazy they should learn more about CDT hikers. They generally hike 20 miles or so a day and are out for 5 or 6 months. After chatting for a while we headed our separate ways but not before Willy decided these three guys could use a bag of Peanut M&Ms more than we could. We planned to be in Cuba, New Mexico tomorrow where we could restock. These hikers still had several days before they got to a town which didn’t even have a grocery store so all they’d have waiting for them was whatever they had packed to be sent to them a month or two ago. They were extremely grateful for the treat. Camp that night was on top of a beautiful mesa with a spectacular sunset. We made a fabulous spaghetti dinner and watched the moon rise both very happy to know we’d be in a town with a hotel the following night. Willy didn’t know what else was in store for him tomorrow, his 43rd birthday.GDMBR Day 13: Hunter’s Campground to CubaFor breakfast in the morning we feasted on some chocolate donuts I had picked up in Grants and had tried hard to ensure they weren’t crushed in my bag over the previous couple of days. It was Willy’s birthday and he loves donuts. So with some makeshift candles made from matches I presented him with donuts to have with his oatmeal before we hit the road.Being Willy’s birthday you’d think we might have a little luck and be free of mechanicals but that would be wishful thinking. Over the past two days we’d had to pump up Willy’s tire about twice a day. Just before lunch today the tire completely broke down and couldn’t be salvaged even to make it the 20 miles into Cuba. We found the first shady spot about a mile (up a hill of course) and set about replacing the tire. We eventually made it into Cuba and checked in to the Frontier Hotel based on their advertised free WiFi. Of course coverage was spotty in our room but the shower almost made up for it. It was hot and had enough pressure to wash off three days of New Mexican desert dirt. While Willy was off doing laundry I called Paula. She’s an event planner by profession and she wasn’t going to let Willy’s birthday go by unnoticed even if we were in a small New Mexican town with a population of less than a thousand people. She had arranged for the owners of the El Bruno restaurant in town to expect us between 7:00 and 8:00.After taking a seat the waitress came out with a bottle of Don Julio tequila. Willy and I looked at one another — if we didn’t find someone else to drink the tequila with us then we might as well plan on staying in Cuba for two nights so we asked for glasses for everyone else on the patio. The dinner was delicious and the next surprise was when all the staff of the restaurant came out carrying a birthday cake and singing “Happy Birthday”. We ate as much of the cake as we could and then left the cake and the rest of the bottle of “Don” with some guys at the table next to us who looked like they’d nurture both of them. Even from a couple thousand miles away Paula had pulled off planning quite a party.

Willy’s 43rd Birthday Celebration

People have been asking about when the next update would be coming out.  Well, the GDMBR isn’t easy on gear and when I pulled the trusty old 12″ PowerBook out a few nights ago to pull off the GPS data and pictures for the day I got the infamous “Finder/?” screen singalling a hard drive crash.  Without the ability to upload photos or organize the notes for each day updates have been slowed.  The good news is the laptop is currently in the shop and I’m looking to have it back soon.

The bad news is the computer wasn’t the only crash on the trail recently.  On Wednesday morning we were riding out of Salida, Colorado on the Ute Trail.  In the hot sun the 13 miles of steep climbing and towing the BOBs was really hard work but we were both feeling really good.  When we crested the summit our focus turned to finding more water as we started to coast down the backside.  Unfortunately that was when one of those killer patches of soft sand grabbed Willy’s front tire and threw him over the bars.  Less than 24 hours later the big news coming out of the Salida ER was the trip is temporarily on hold because Willy’s arm is broken.

Willy will be posting soon with all the details but the important thing is the trip is only temporarily on hold.  We’ve flown back to Chicago so he can recuperate.  The fantastic people at Absolute Bikes in Salida are storing our rigs for us and we have plans to be back on the trail in less than a month — even sooner if Willy’s arm heals.  In the meantime we’ll get the pictures and posts updated and keep you posted on when we expect to start pedaling again.

GDMBR Day 8: Pie Town to Chain of Craters Backcountry Byway

We woke up early the next morning. Knowing I had to stop by the post office in Pie Town to send home my big camera and pick up the new camera, Willy had spent all his time riding yesterday contemplating what else could be sent home. We were definitely carrying too much weight so before heading over to breakfast we figured out what could be sent home and redistributed the common gear. It was no longer “What about BOB?” but “ALL about BOB!” and anything we could do to lighten our load.

Items not making the cut included:

• ULock and cables: these weighed at least five pounds and there isn’t anyone around in the places we stay to even steal our bikes (or so we hope).
• Books for pleasure reading: there is so much work to do around camp and by the time we turn in we’re completely spent and the big tomes we brought are simply too heavy.
• Clothing and other miscellaneous sundries: other than cold weather gear, if we haven’t used it yet then we probably won’t need it.

In all honesty, most of the stuff to be sent home was mine. Willy had done a good job of weeding through the unessential items he was carrying in Silver City. We redistributed what remained, repacked with BOB configuration v2.0 and headed to The Daily Pie Cafe for breakfast.

Our server, Barbara, and everyone at the Daily Pie were extremely friendly. They let us spread our maps all over the table, kept the coffee coming and served up a delicious breakfast and pie ala mode. Knowing the pay phone in town was broken and cell phone coverage is non-existent they even have a second phone line dedicated for hikers and bikers to use. We spent the morning gorging ourselves and talking on the phone. If you ever find your way passing through Pie Town, New Mexico definitely stop in for the pie and some of the finest hospitality you’ll ever encounter.

The final stop before getting on the bikes was the Pie Town Post Office. I was excited to get rid of the extra weight but I was a bit anxious about the shipment from Amazon. We checked with the postmaster and nothing had arrived from UPS. She offered to forward the packages on to another post office when they did arrive. I was a bit despondent because I didn’t want to be without a camera but it was the best we could do. We boxed up the gear to send home — almost 17 pounds worth and as we prepared to pay the UPS truck showed up with my packages from Amazon. I was the proud owner of a new Canon SD 800, a spare battery and a few SD cards for all of our pictures. The timing was perfect — serentripity strikes again!

After saying goodbye to the ladies from the USPS and the UPS we pedaled off on what was supposed to be a fairly easy day of mostly downhill. The New Mexican sun was shining and we were going through our water (almost 4L a piece) pretty quickly. The maps and guidebook mentioned several tanks and windmills where we could stop to get water but they were all dry.

After 10 miles of stopping to check out every tank and windmill without luck we came across what we’ve dubbed a “New Mexican drinking fountain”. It was a huge tank in the middle of the desert, standing next to a broken windmill and a strange solar array on top. Had it not been for the solar panels we would have pedaled past figuring it was yet another empty tank in disrepair. As we walked closer we could see water dripping from the top from where the spigot was supposed to be. We found pieces of the faucet on the ground shattered in pieces. The nearby cattle tanks were full so we knew there had to be way to get water out of it. Again, we were two perplexed city slickers who knew water was close at hand but unable to get to it.

After 20 minutes of investigation I decided the only option left was to climb the ladder and see what was on top. I found a small hole and was able to stick my hand inside far enough to find the tank was nearly full of clear, cool water. It took nearly 15 more minutes, with both Willy and I climbing the tank, a rock and some rope to rig up a MacGyver-esque setup which yielded almost 5L of fresh drinking water. Mission accomplished — we could pedal on.

When we stopped for lunch a few hours later, of course there were no trees for shade. The only thing casting a shadow was an old wooden sign for a housing community being built which we had passed nearly 15 miles before. We set up a tarp in the shade, devoured our tuna sandwiches and even took a quick afternoon siesta.

As we packed up the bikes Willy turned around and saw a scene which spurred his creative side.

A Long, Unwinding Road

We turned on to the Chain of Craters Backcountry Byway which is part of the El Malpais National Monument. After a long day of pedaling we stopped at a trail head for the CDT. It was a cool spot because it was the first time, to our knowledge, the CDT and the GDMBR routes crossed. We set up camp, had a dinner of Ramen noodles and proceeded to clean up just as we normally do. While we were washing dishes both Willy and I heard a growl in the distance but neither of us said anything. After the second growl we looked at each other with a “Did you hear that too?” look. We quickly finished the dishes, packed the food and other items of interest to bears and stored them well away from camp. It was a beautiful clear night and a full moon was rising. As we sat in our camp chairs we only heard the growling one more time and it was much further off. None the less the can of bear repellent was within easy reach between us.

GDMBR Day 9: Chain of Craters Backcountry Byway to Grants

Supplies were definitely getting low. I ate the last packet of oatmeal for breakfast and Willy ate Ramen. We planned to make it to Grants by evening but any nourishment during the day would come from gooey PowerBars or whatever we found along the way. During the ride we’ve been making reference to accounts posted by others, mainly Scott and Paula and Mike. Scott made reference to a little cafe at the Bandera Ice Caves halfway through the day’s ride where he and Paula had eaten burritos. We were banking on that little cafe still being around three years later for our lunch today.

We pedaled into the Bandera Ice Caves just as the Schwan’s truck was arriving. We’ve seen a number of Schwan’s trucks on the trips. It seems when you live more than 50 miles from the closest town with a store it is just more convenient to let Schwan’s bring the food to you.

While we waited for the fresh delivery to be unpacked we hiked to the ice cave. After pedaling through desert in the relatively cool (yet very hot by Chicago standards) morning sun it was amazing to walk down a few flights of stairs to find an exposed sheet of ice more than 12 feet thick. The air temperature was a very cool 31 degrees and while it felt refreshing at first we were quickly chilled.

Back at the Tradin’ Post/Visitor’s Center we dined on cheeseburgers and Ranchero sandwiches freshly cooked/thawed in the microwave. It wasn’t gourmet but it hit the spot. Before leaving the ice caves we hiked to the crater of the Bandera Volcano.

The El Malpais National Monument visitor’s center was just down the road. Since I’ve been a kid I’ve collected stamps for every National Park I visit. Since the visitor’s center was six miles off route round trip and it included a two mile climb on the return Willy and I split up. He headed to Grants and we agreed to meet up either at the KOA or the Mission Coffee Shop and headed off in opposite directions.

After getting the stamp in my National Parks Passport. I collected my BOB from where I had left it at the Bandera Ice Caves and set off to Grants. About two miles into the ride I was again on gravel and after another mile or two I picked up the tracks of Willy’s tires climbing to the summit to cross the Continental Divide for the fifth time that day. I couldn’t resist — I felt like I was in the Tour de France and the Director of my team had called out over the radio to chase down the breakaway. I had roughly 20 miles to give it all I had to see if I could chase Willy down. Willy knows me well enough to realize I’d give chase so we both rode hard all the way to Grants. I never quite caught him but when we get a free minute we’re going to compare the GPS tracks. I contend with just another couple of miles I would have caught him. Regardless, we both had a great ride flying through the downhills of a beautiful canyon. I think it was the best downhill yet.

Grants is on Route 66 and since I-40 superseded the “Main Street of America” many years ago it doesn’t look like much has changed. After talking to a few people at the Mission Coffee Shop everyone suggested we stay at the Sands Motel if there was a vacancy.

We checked for availability at the office and they had a room for us. It was supposedly “very clean” and we were allowed to bring our bikes in the room. And at $40 a night it included breakfast. We figured it was a good deal and checked in.

The room actually smelled like it had been painted the day before. However, it might have been easier to just paint over the dirt rather than trying to clean it off. But the room had two beds and the water in the shower was hot even if the pressure left a little to be desired. The room next door was the Elvis Room and not sleeping in the tent after some long days in the saddle counted for a lot.

After we got cleaned up, we asked about dinner and where we could get the film in our disposable camera developed. People suggested El Cafecito and of course there was a Wal-Mart nearby for the film. We had a decent meal and were introduced to sopapillas, a delicious New Mexican treat which is like fried bread which can be stuffed with the usual five ingredients Taco Bell has managed to make into so many different combinations or can be eaten plain with honey on top. Personally we both liked the sopapilla and honey for dessert.

Being a “big-box” store and since Willy and I live in Chicago we don’t get to check out the inside of Wal-Marts very often. It was a bit overwhelming at first but I found the photo drop counter and they promised they would be ready the next morning at 10:00.

I think we felt a little lost not having the usual chores around camp to take care of like cooking, cleaning up and pitching the tent. So we did what we know best when you have a free evening, we stopped by the local package goods store and grabbed a six-pack. Back in the room we enjoyed a beer, watched TV and caught up on phone calls before turning in and looking forward to a rest day tomorrow.

GDMBR Day 10: Rest Day in Grants

After a decent night’s sleep at the Sands Motel we woke up and headed over to breakfast in the hotel office. It consisted of coffee or tea and donut holes. It was lucky neither of us was really expecting much more out of the place but it was a enough to tide us over to take care of the morning errands. We needed to head back to Wal-Mart to pick up the photos and shop for supplies. Again, Wal-Mart was a bit of a trying experience for us both but we were successful. Afterwards we split up and Willy headed off to do laundry while I headed back to the Mission Cafe to start uploading photos. Our plan was to spend the whole day relaxing with coffee, a newspaper and WiFi access.

We met a number of interesting people throughout the day. We shared our story and heard a number of stories of how people ended up in Grants and how most of them were hoping to get out sometime soon. After the cafe closed we walked around town a bit. We’d only been here a day but I wanted out already. Part of it was yearning to get back in the saddle and make progress on the ride but really Grants wasn’t all that nice of a place.

Everywhere there were rundown or completely shut hotels. I walked by most of the places and cringed. It reminded me of the house I lived in at college with nine other guys (as you can imagine that wasn’t exactly a pretty scene). You know that in an earlier time it had been a really nice place but now it was beyond hope and somehow had avoided the wrecking ball far longer than it should have. When my parents came to visit I think my mom only set foot in that house out of motherly obligation and after the super abbreviated five minute tour we headed over to the Student Union. Here in Grants I got the same feeling my mom must’ve had back then and rather than walk a few blocks away a couple day pedal seemed like the only salvation.

Everything about this town made me wonder if all of Route 66 was in this kind of disrepair. This road has such a romantic appeal in American folklore but if Grants is typical then I certainly won’t be looking to get my kicks on Route 66.

That night Willy spent some time working on his bike. We had adjusted the gears for cable stretch back at Beaverhead and it had been shifting fairly well. But in the last day it was getting rough. Anyone who has ever biked with Willy knows it must’ve been causing problems for him to roll up his sleeves and start fiddling with it. I tuned up his old bike once and cleaned off the chain in the process. On his very next ride the chain snapped because the dirt and gunk was all that was holding the bike together. Willy just doesn’t believe in tune-ups. After a while of tinkering he seemed happy and we headed off to dinner. We looked forward to another night’s sleep in a bed and then getting out of Grants early the next morning.

In more ways than one. It is closed for Chuck and I since we have crossed over into Colorado. Also because many of the businesses in the small towns we passed through are boarded up or altogether abandoned. I’m not surprised since this is a harsh, harsh environment. In many ways beautiful, but it is not an easy place to live. Especially if you like water and shade.

My friend Damien put this trip into perspective for me when he said, “Say hello to America for me.” This really is a unique chance to see a cross section of the good ‘ole US of A. The first night we camped in Hachita after a long ride through the desert and Chuck said, “Well this is America” and my only response was, “I didn’t think it would be this rusty.”

After the first few days I was ready to start a petition to recommend New Mexico secede from the Union since it did not have a lot anything to offer. For instance the State symbol should be a beer can laying by the side of the road. It may be the only man made object you see for miles, but they are always present. No doubt the work of the 1% of the drivers (primarily driving beat-up white pickups) who think it’s an inconvenience to give us a bit of room when they pass. (It’s hard to see in this picture, but there are 5 beer cans in a 50 meter stretch.)

I would not call these people New Mexicans though, they are the standard idiots that make all of our lives a little more difficult. I have quickly realized true New Mexicans are a special breed. Not only friendly, outgoing and curious, but willing to go out of their way to help in any way possible. I guess this environment requires that from people to make it bearable.

For example we met Dede Happe recently and the encounter can best be paraphrased from a song by a famous artist (who’s name I will not mention for fear of reprisal) – “I met an angel, of that I’m sure.” As you all know from Chuck’s posts we have had more than our fair share of mechanical disasters. The latest was a bent rear sprocket (let’s see a show of hands if you’ve had this problem) causing my shifting to jump all over the place. Not a fun situation when climbing 1000′s of feet. We decided to bite the bullet and get an expensive room at the Abiquiu Inn, allowing us to figure out how to get to Santa Fe 50 miles away. Well the Inn did not have any vacancy so we set up in their restaurant to poach their WiFi and figure things out. Word got out of our predicament and eventually the hotel manager, Dede, walks up and offers to let us use her car to pick up the part. She must have thought I was mute, or worse, when I just stared at her with my mouth open. Eventually I stammered, “Are you sure,” and she said “Yes.” No questions asked, she just handed me her keys. This is what New Mexico is all about and therefore I’ve decided to forego the petition, although I might start one to clean up the beer cans, because they make me thirsty.

Enough about New Mexicans, lets talk about flatlanders. I will never look at a hill in Illinois or Wisconsin the same way. Before I left people asked how I was training for the trip and I naively said I had 3 months to train on the road. Possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever said. Some of these roads are unbelievable. Either straight up or down and more rock quarry then road. On most days I simply think to myself, “Why am I doing this?” On other days I think, “No really, why am I doing this???” Luckily there are enough moments in between when I realize why I’m doing this and couldn’t be happier. For instance taking the time to build a snowman in the middle of June.

I like to make a quick reply to a few of the comments:

Swa – Tried the card in the spokes, but it agitated the rattlers; the tassles work great though.
Ron & Mary – Can’t wait for that drink!
Lynne E – Unless those skeletons can pedal they’re staying in Telluride.
Geno – You’re right, “It’s just around the next corner”, but unfortunately it’s always another hill!
Martin – Beers consumed: not nearly enough.
Jill – Let Jack know the bears are a much bigger concern than the snakes.
Ruggles – Unfortunately very little snake meat or beer in our diets. Plenty of Twizzlers though!

Paula – Can’t wait until April/2008. I hope you still think I’m sweet Willy then.