So after a month of recuperation in Chicago we headed back to Denver to resume the ride. Our personal ER physician and shuttle driver, Dr. Pat Miller, picked us up at the airport and brought us back to Salida. I think our luck rubbed off on him, because his truck (Big Red) broke down on the way out of Denver. Now I don’t want to say this was our fault, but it had 250,000 miles on it and he never had much of a problem with it. Sorry Doc.

Upon arriving in Salida we went straight to Absolute Bikes to say hi to the awesome staff and pick up our gear. Of course Scot, mechanic extraordinaire, insisted we stay at his place and graciously offered to drive us up to the Monarch Crest Trail the next morning to get a warm- up ride in before heading up the infamous hill where I tumbled over my handlebars.

All in all things went well and we decided to hit the GDMBR that afternoon since we were so anxious to hit the trail. I made it up the hill (barely) and down the hill without incident.  We took the time to photograph the scene of the accident, but of course our camera malfunctioned.

Now the only thing to contend with was the weather. We’ve had rain almost every day in the two weeks we’ve been back. Some of it nasty enough to keep us in the tent for hours. As Chuck said, “I’ll gladly trade the mechanicals for weather.” I agreed. Famous last words.

Despite the rain we made it to some awesome Colorado towns, including Breckenridge, Frisco and Steamboat. The latter is where we met Bill Gamber the owner of BAP and Big Agnes Tents. While planning the trip Bill came through for us by going out of his way to ship us the Emerald Mountain SL3 Tent, which has proven to be one of our best pieces of gear. At the time he also offered us a beer and a shower when we rode through Steamboat. Boy did he get more than he bargained for.

It all started with him offering to let us camp in front the BAP store for two days while we took a rest day (that’s Bill in the middle). It was right downtown so we had access to everything we wanted, including the Hurricanes at SunPies. These were the main cause of the extra night in town.

After a good night’s rest we headed out of town for some gnarly trail. Even by the GD standards this was to be one of our harder days. We lived through it and found a nice campsite about 20 miles from the Wyoming border. We were finally going to make it out of Colorado. Not. The next morning I made it about .7 miles and I heard a rubbing sound from my rear tire. Usually an easy thing to deal with, but not this time. I fractured another joint; luckily this time it was on the bike, not me.

The frame near the rear dropout (where the wheel attaches) cracked in half. Once again Chuck had to ride back to the nearest town and save the day. Of course it couldn’t be easy. Steamboat was busy and there were no rental cars available. He went by BAP and Bill, THE NICEST GUY IN THE WORLD, insisted Chuck use his car to go pick me and the gear up. He also insisted we stay at his place for the night.

We felt so guilty about relying on him for so much we ended up checking into a hotel at 11PM and returned one very muddy car. Remember the rain?

The next morning we headed over to Steamboat Ski & Bike Kare to get the bad news on how long it would take to fix. I can’t imagine any bike shop keeping a rear triangle for a HiFi Pro in stock, which was true for Steamboat Ski & Bike Kare. Luckily we met Derek , the store manager. He said normally this would have to be sent back to Trek, but I happen to ride a HiFi Pro and we’ll take the part off my bike. Can you believe it? I couldn’t.

Not only that, they warrantied everything and got us out within a couple of hours. We really wanted to head back to Sunpies, but had no excuse for not hitting the trail. Which we did and of course it rained on us, but neither of us could have been happier. I’m also happy to say we’ve made it out of Colorado and into Wyoming. Stay tuned for more adventures …

Day 21: Horca to Platoro
It rained for most of the night. When morning came both Willy and I sat lying in the tent but not talking. I think we both were dreading starting the day knowing it was rainy and that we didn’t have supplies. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to Snickers and Mounds candy bars for breakfast.

Then we heard Joe’s voice outside the tent, “Chuck. Willy. Clara’s making sausage biscuits. When you’re ready to get up come on over.” I think we were up, dressed and at the door to Joe and Clara’s RV in about three minutes. We certainly weren’t going to turn down this invitation.

The biscuits hit the spot and Clara packaged up some extras so we’d have a snack for the road. We had a leisurely breakfast enjoying more stories about Joe’s days of coaching. Willy and I had to decide if we were going to push on or hang out a day longer. Joe was going to head to Antonito in his truck later in the day and offered to take us with him so we could replenish our supplies at the grocery store.

However, the sun started to shine and the owners of the campground told us we would be in for a treat with terrific hamburgers at our next stop, Platoro. After the long day of riding yesterday only to find the grocery store was closed we decided to call ahead and make sure the general store and lodge in Platoro were open. They assured us they would be open and so it was we decided to push on.

It was after 1pm by the time we rolled out of the campground but since we only had 20, relatively flat miles to go we weren’t concerned. Especially after the long day yesterday we were happy to mosey along. The riding was relatively uneventful. We passed the usual cows and it was quite chilly so we were happy to arrive in Platoro and find the Skyline Lodge with a roaring fire.

Platoro shuts down completely in the winter. For a few short months in the summer about 150 people come to live there mainly as outfitters and guides taking tourists fishing and horseback riding.

The Skyline was indeed open and they had tasty burgers, soft beds and WiFi.  But the best part might have been sitting around the largest fireplace hearth I’ve ever seen.  It had started to drizzle during the last two miles so it was a great way to warm up.

It also seemed a perfect way to prepare for tomorrow: the ride over Indiana Pass, the highest point on the entire route.

Day 22: Platoro to Del Norte
We took off in the morning after eating a breakfast and a half to make sure we’d have enough energy for the day. We bought a few supplies at the general store and the generous staff at the Skyline Lodge sent us off with two huge ziploc bags of peach and cherry cobbler.

The road out of Platoro went up and up and up. But around each turn there were great views looking back into Platoro or across the way to a brilliant colored mountains filled with all kinds of minerals.

The people at the Skyline had warned us that they had been four-wheeling halfway up our route just a few days prior and there were still massive snowbanks. They also warned us of a Santa Claus looking character who was shoveling the snow so he could get across the pass. A couple of hours into the ride we saw there hadn’t been much change in the last few days. We talked with the old man and he watched us push through a snowbank which was about a quarter mile long. We encountered several more snow banks on our way to the top of the pass but luckily most of them were only 50 to 100 feet long and only a foot or two deep.

Odd man shoveling the pass by hand	Snow makes for slow going

We’d had to fill up with at the Skyline Lodge before leaving because all sources of water for the first half of the day were contaminated and unsafe for drinking. This was in part because the heavy metals which made the mountains shine with shades of red and orange also naturally contaminated the water. But it was also in large part because of the presence of an old mine which had operated without any sort of environmental restrictions. Today it is an EPA Superfund Site. We stopped for a quick picture and to take in the massive scarring from the mining operations.

We stopped for a quick lunch of biscuits and cobbler but pushed on to the summit. The last mile took a lot out of us but we reached the top of Indiana Pass and were just seven feet shy of 12,000 feet. We stopped for a quick summit picture and then headed down the other side for a nice 25 mile descent.

The first order of business when we arrived in Del Norte was to stop at the bike store and pick up our shipment of replacement tires and sealant from Stan’s. We pedaled through town following the GPS’s directions to the shop and couldn’t believe what we saw when it told us to stop. There indeed was the town bike store, but in the front window was a handwritten sign saying the store would be closed while the owner was on vacation until the next week. We’d hoped our luck would change in Colorado but so far it was more of the same — everything was closed.

After eating dinner we found the only place in town with WiFi. Of course by this time it was closed. We needed to get in touch with Stan’s so we sat outside on the sidewalk poaching WiFi and drinking a beer from a brown bag. We looked like complete vagrants. We saw a biker ride through town and a few minutes later a support vehicle followed. A few minutes later more bikers and support vans. It turned out RAAM (Race Across AMerica) was coming through Del Norte that night.  These guys mightbe on pavement but they ride from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast in just seven days. We stayed up cheering the racers on until we decided it was time to deal with the immediate problem at hand: In the frustration of finding the bike store closed we had put off finding a place to camp.

It just so happened a police officer pulled up to the little station across the street from where we were sitting. Our map said it was permissible to camp in the city park if you first checked in with the police. I walked across the road to talk with the officer and after a few calls we were cleared. As long as we agreed to be packed up by 9am we had our choice of places to camp along the Rio Grande in the Del Norte Riverwalk Park.

It had been a long, hard day of riding so we set up our tent in the darkest spot we could find and easily drifted off to sleep.

Days 23 and 24: Sick in Del Norte

The next morning we awoke just as easily if not more abruptly. Little did we know when we pitched the tent that the city park had an automatic sprinkler system. At 6am it went off. Luckily we had put the fly on our Big Agnes tent the night before. If we tried to get out and move the tent everything would get wet. So we sat and let the tent take a beating for 45 minutes.

When the sprinkler did finally stop we were awake so we took down the tent and started to figure out how we could get around the problem of tires. Actually, Willy put together a plan. I was feeling sicker by the minute so on the same bench on Main Street where we had sat the night before I laid and writhed as I tried to calm my stomach and wished for my headache to go away.

By lunchtime Willy had put together a plan with the guys at Stan’s, UPS and several other store owners in town and it looked like we’d be able to intercept the shipment. We flagged down every UPS truck which came through town but the answer was always that it would be on the next truck. I never saw the truck. At lunch I was so sick the owners of the little cafe where we were eating just checked us in to their “casita”.

I stumbled in and don’t remember anything which happened over the next 24 hours other than waking up in the middle of the night and thinking it was a good thing the ER was less than a quarter mile away because if I started to feel any worse I was going to admit myself.

About 4am my fever broke and the change was stupendous. I felt like I was ready to get back on the bike. When I stepped out to the family room where Willy had crashed on the futon. He didn’t look good. We waited a few hours to see if he improved but it was pretty obvious we were going to be spending another day in Del Norte while Willy recovered.

During our recovery time Willy and I each got to know Mike and Kim, the owners of La Casita Bonita where we were staying. They had a an organic grocery store, a little cafe and the casita. Mike and Kim definitely earned a shout out after helping nurse us to recovery with plenty of delicious natural food and organic ginger drinks. They took great care of us and their little apartment was the perfect place to recover. I’m sure had we been in the tent we would have needed at least another day to recover.

After hearing about our ride Kim and Mike have a special for other GDMBR riders. Stay in the La Casita Bonita and they’ll throw in a delicious breakfast at their cafe in the morning. Just tell them you’re riding the GDMBR and please be sure to tell them Hi from Chuck and Willy.

With apologies to Willie Nelson…

In the saddle again
Just can’t wait to get in the saddle again
The life I love is ridin’ bikes with my friends
And I can’t wait to get in the saddle again

I think that pretty well sums up how we feel. We spent a little more than three weeks back in Chicago Willy’s arm is feeling better. After we climb the 14 miles out of Salida we’ll pick up the ride exactly where we left off.

Look for more updates and pictures from the trail to be coming soon…

Day 18: El Rito to Canada de Oso

Woke up this morning and Willy and I agreed we had the best night’s sleep thus far since we’ve been on the bike. We headed over to the cafeteria and had a portion of eggs and bacon which was smaller than either of us would’ve liked. Smart move on the school’s part because I think we would’ve cleaned out the buffet entirely between both of us had it been self-serve. It is amazing how much you can eat when you’re on the bike all day. And when someone else is cooking and it isn’t food you’ve had to carry in a BOB for several days it seems like you can eat even more.

Before leaving El Rito we made another stop at the US Post Office to mail home more extraneous gear. I think we’re finally down to the bare essentials.

We headed out of El Rito and at the first fork in the road we had the option of going right on a nicely paved road or heading straight on a rutted out dirt road. Without looking at a map, we knew which way to head. And so began another day in the saddle. It was a very warm and humid morning so we were glad to leave the desert scrub bushes behind as we climbed and into a forest of conifer trees which at least gave us a little shade.

When you read about the GDMBR on the ACA website they give some basic statistics on the surface of the road making up the route:

• 85% dirt road
• 14% paved road
• 1% singletrack

We knew going in to the ride having such a large portion of the route follow unpaved dirt roads would make for some difficult going and we were up to the challenge. However, I don’t think we anticipated the wide range of roads in various conditions which can be categorized as dirt or unpaved. We’ve seen smooth hard pack dirt, rutted dirt (but luckily it has been hard and dry and not wet and muddy), washboard (makes for a bone and tooth jarring ride), gravel, sand and more. Sometimes the road is wide, other times it is really narrow and sometimes just a two track jeep trail. It definitely forces us to keep our eyes open and when we’re not talking about food, conversation often turns to how good or bad of condition the road is in.

Sometimes the road is rocky	Sometimes it is washboarded

As the sun rose higher in the sky it seemed to be more humid than any other day so far. We knew the town of Vallecitos was coming up so we planned to stop and have lunch there. As we rolled into town we realized this was one of those places time had forgotten and most of the residents had abandoned. The few homes which showed signs of life had yards full broken down cars and rusted out appliances. The school and church looked like they hadn’t seen use in years. I’m pretty sure the Postmaster General has never made a visit to this post office. We sat on the stoop, ate our lunch and talked to a few of the residents who stopped in to get their mail.

There wasn’t a single compelling reason to hang out in Vallecitos any longer than we needed to. And as the air continued to get more humid, the sky began to darken and we could hear thunder in the distance we had plenty of reason to get back on the bikes as soon as possible.

We pedaled through Canon Plaza, another small outpost town with no outward signs of activity. The temperature was starting to drop quickly now. As we headed up a mountain pass the wind started to pick up and the thunder sounded much closer. A drizzle started as we crested a hill and we agreed it might be a good idea to pull off and wait out the storm. It looked to be a fast moving front so we guessed it wouldn’t be that long. We headed down the hill a bit to avoid any opportunity to be a human lightning rod and sought some shelter behind some low shrubs.

After 20 minutes it became obvious our hopes of having the storm blow over wouldn’t be realized. We hopped on the bikes agreeing to stop at the first decent looking campsite so we could pitch the tent. We hadn’t pedaled 100m before the sky opened up. About one mile further down the hill we found a nice open area by Canada del Oso, a small creek crossing. The downpour was picking up but we setup our Big Agnes tent in record time. We were glad to have splurged on the optional vestibule extension because we were able to easily get all of gear in out of the rain without having to haul wet BOB bags into the area of the tent where we sleep.

The storm continued for several hours and we passed the time by napping. When it finally let up we were able to make a campfire and after a bit of a search find some clean water for a tasty dinner of Ramen noodles. After dinner we took some notes, downloaded the GPS data for the day and looked at the maps. Everything pointed to not making nearly as much mileage as we had planned for the day when we had bought supplies in Abiquiu. We had some extra food but at this rate we’d run out before we could resupply. We agreed to get up early and eat breakfast on the road in the morning so we could put in some serious mileage.

Day 19: Canada de Oso to Rio San Antonio

This morning we ate PowerBars as we took down camp and were on the bikes by 6:45am. It was still really cold. We usually wait for the sun to start hitting camp so the dew on the tent can dry off (and let’s face it, we’re both night owls and not really early risers). We had a sizable climb to start the day but it still took a while to get warmed up.

We met a father-son pair of ranchers out repairing a fence on their land. The son is the fourth generation of the family to run the ranch and he had to be in his late 50′s. It was interesting to talk with them about growing up in this part of the country and all the changes they’ve seen in the ranching industry and in life in general. The father who had to be in his 80′s and didn’t show any signs of letting up when it came to work on the ranch had a real sense of humor. He told us he “built the little house he was born in” just up the road. Working a small family ranch makes for a hard life but it seemed rewarding and fulfilling to these two.

Knowing they had a long day of hard labor in front of them working on the fence we pedaled on. It quickly became apparent we were going to have an extremely long day in front of us if the road conditions didn’t improve. The road hadn’t yet dried out from yesterday’s storm and the mud was thick. It seemed to dry like quick set cement. By the time I got to the top of the hill I was completely spent. I turned around and realized the wheel on my BOB was so caked in mud it hadn’t turned for the last 200m. I had literally been dragging the BOB as I struggled to stay on the bike in the slippery mud. Scratch that earlier comment about luck and not seeing any mud!

I pulled off the road to begin the process of mud cake removal. When Willy crested the hill he was going slow but didn’t seem to have the mud build up I had encountered. I wasn’t able to even go 10m before my BOB wheel had seized again. We had to stop and pick out all the mud again and then take off my fender. Not that I was wishing any more bad luck or difficult times on Willy but I was somewhat happy when a half mile down the road he hit some of the cement like mud and his wheels stopped spinning too. We cleaned the bikes off and then pushed them through grassy fields trying to steer clear of the sticky mud as much as possible. Now we understood how the severe rutting we had seen in the road came about. At points the tracks from the 4×4 ranching trucks were on the grass too because the mud was just too deep and sticky on the road.

We had to push for a little over a mile and it was slow going. We’d woken up early so we could get some extra miles but we weren’t clicking them off very quickly and we were famished from not having our usual oatmeal. We agreed to push on until we reached the summit where the map said there was a nice picnic area next to Hopewell Lake.

At Hopewell, the campground was full and we met lots of families interested in hearing about the ride. They pointed us to the picnic area where there were great shelters with huge tables to get away from the sun. After a lunch of cheese and crackers Willy had his traditional after-lunch nap.

The afternoon was fairly uneventful. Immediately after Hopewell there was a paved downhill where I broke 45mph. As much as Willy hates uphills he hates these short little downhills even more. They accomplish nothing other than dropping precious feet on the altimeter which we know we’ll have to make up later in the day.

Shortly after we turned back on to a forest road I came across a Horned Toad sunning himself. He let me get relatively close and I was able to get a decent picture. I have to say I think the most disappointing aspect of the trip so far is the lack of wildlife we’ve seen (seeing cows lost it’s novelty many miles ago). We also encountered a group of nine people on motocross bikes following the route from North to South. They had broken it into two segments and were planning to ride half of the route this summer and the other half next summer.

In the later afternoon we were both pretty spent and so we stopped to make camp at the first place we found water, the Rio San Antonio. It was a nice campsite very close to the river. Considering how early we’d woken up in an effort to make up some miles finishing the day at just under 38 seemed a little disappointing. However, when I looked at the elevation profile I saw we’d done some serious climbing (over 4,000ft) and had reason to feel so tired.

The bigger concern was if we’d make it all the way to Horca, Colorado tomorrow. Our options if we didn’t make it to Horca were limited. Either we could go hungry or we could hope a steakhouse shown on our map which was only 40 miles away would be open. The map said the restaurant was open six days a week, closed on Monday. Tonight was Sunday. Just our luck. But we figured we could camp outside the restaurant and eat our last pack of Ramen and then the next morning we’d wake up and have a big steak and egg breakfast. Thanks to the unexpectedly short day yesterday we were low on rations but at least we had a plan.

Day 20: Rio San Antonio to Horca, Colorado
We ate the last of our oatmeal for breakfast and set out to make Horca, Colorado fueled by trail mix and PowerBars. Once we finish this batch of PowerBars I don’t think we’ll touch them again for the rest of the ride. But today it was about all we had available to us without having to stop and get out the stove. So off to Horca we pedaled under a beautiful blue sky.

Today’s route profile looked tough. Not only was it almost 50 miles to get to Horca but we had about 4,500ft of climbing culminating in a gnarly traverse of the Brazos Ridge, one of the most blogged about sections of the trail. Throughout the day we encountered a number of downed trees which the USFS had not yet had time to clear. Luckily the group of motocross riders we saw yesterday had worn some paths around the trees which made our going a little bit easier as we traced their tracks instead of portaging bikes and trailers.

We stopped only briefly to choke down a PowerBar for lunch. The sky was again beginning to look very ominous and we heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Not wanting to get stuck in the rain we pushed on hoping to stay in front of the storm. We knew we’d be slow for early part of the afternoon because we’d be making the final climb to the Brazos Ridge. The Brazos Ridge is a very rugged and exposed section of the route and also is the highest section of the route in New Mexico at almost 11,000ft.

As we approached 10,800ft I stopped for water and a funny exchange took place:

“We’re getting close to the summit.” I said in between slurps of Gatorade from my water bottle.

“Not close enough!” Willy responded in a tone much more sour than I had expected.

“What’s your altimeter read?” I inquired a bit baffled by why he wasn’t more excited our climbing would soon be done for the day and guessing maybe there was a discrepancy in his altimeter.

“Only 10,795ft. Not high enough.” came the curt response.

Between the three GPS units we carry there is normally a delta of at least 50 feet so I was surprised when he was within 5 feet of my reading. It didn’t make any sense. Figuring he was just feeling low on energy since we hadn’t eaten much I tried to offer some optimism and said “Well we should be able to knock off these 200 feet in under 10 minutes.”

“Great. Then we’ll only have a little more than a thousand feet until we reach the highpoint for the day. I’m excited.” in that sarcastic voice anyone who knows Willy has heard.

“No! Not a thousand more feet. Only 200 and we’re done for the day! No more big climbs. You must be confused. We don’t hit 12,000 feet until the day after tomorrow!” I responded excited to have figured out why Willy was so un-energetic. In all the talk about the climbing in the upcoming days he had mistakenly thought today was the highest point of the whole ride and not just in New Mexico which was over a 1,000ft difference.

Suddenly Willy had a new lease on life. He had a smile and you’d have thought I had just removed 20 pounds from his BOB. The last 200 feet was quite steep and made for some tough granny gear grinding but that Twizzler’s tasted even sweeter when we got to the top.

Happy to be at the highest point of the GDMBR in New Mexico

We saw our first patch of snow today at just over 10,000ft. We thought heading into the middle of June snow banks would be an uncommon occurrence. However, just a few miles later as we crested the summit we realized snow was not just a novelty but something we’d need to be seriously concerned about as a bank was completely covering our road!

Even though a storm was blowing in and we had only covered half of the mileage for the day we stuck to our agreement from when we set out that we’d take every opportunity to stop and enjoy the views, people and anything else we encountered. When this trip ends we’ll have accomplished riding 2,700 miles from Mexico to Banff. But we’ll have experienced so much more. So instead of worrying about the road over Brazos Pass suddenly becoming impassable we stopped to make a snowman.

We took a 15 minute break constructing Mr. Softie and making him pose for pictures. We paid attention to all the little details like finding equal sized rocks for his eyes, a pine branch which was shaped like a smile and making a perfectly proportioned body. The original plan had been for Mr. Softie to pose with the little picture Willy keeps in view at all times in his handlebar bag. On one side there is a picture of Paula and on the other a picture of a beach in Jamaica with “April 2008″ written on it as a reminder of the wedding next year. By the time Mr. Softie’s photo shoot came to an end we had a whole portfolio of snowman pictures.

Mr. Softie riding the GDMBR	Mr. Softie navigating the GDMBR	The GDMBR isn’t for softies

A loud thunder clap reminded us we had almost 25 miles to Horca so we quickly hopped on the bikes and found a road which skirted the massive snow bank and rejoined the route about a mile later.

We descended the steep Brazos ridge. The blogs we’d read about this section hadn’t exaggerated. In fact I think the ACA maps probably don’t convey the terrain quite accurately as the cue for the Southbound riders says “Next half mile of climbing is probably unrideable.” Going Northbound meant we only had to go down but even with full suspension bikes it was some of the roughest terrain I’ve been on. Willy had to stop to pick up a fuel bottle which worked it’s way loose and a mile or so later I lost the wheel to my BOB. I’m sure the descent of Brazos Ridge was responsible for it shaking free. Eventually we made it to the New Mexico-Colorado border. We were elated to have one state down and only four to go. We were running low on energy but were less than 10 miles from the steakhouse on the map. Unfortunately it took almost everything I had to get there and when I pulled in my hopes were dashed. Not only were they closed on Mondays but Tuesdays too. Camping and then feasting on a big breakfast wasn’t an option. Horca was now only eight miles away but the first two miles were a serious uphill. My tanks were depleted and I was beginning to bonk in a serious way. The thought of a hamburger in Horca was all that kept me going. Once we made the pass I didn’t pedal at all for the six mile descent into Horca. I was just too exhausted.The descent in to Horca went through huge hills completely covered in tall pine trees. There were signs about snowmobiling, XC skiing and biking. It seemed like this was an area people came to for vacation and recreation. I was liking the looks of Colorado already. Good riddance New Mexico!Changing states however didn’t seem to change our luck. I was so exhausted when I got to Horca and stopped at the only restaurant and store in town that I didn’t know how to react when it appeared the lights were out and the parking lot was empty. I dropped my bike and headed to the entrance where I found a nicely handwritten sign in the window:

“Closed until Thursday. Sorry for any inconvenience. See you then!”

New Mexico was supposed to be closed. In fact I expected this kind of thing in New Mexico. But we were in Colorado! I was ravenous. I had been hallucinating about hamburgers over those last eight miles. At one point I honestly imagined myself walking into a Fuddrucker’s when I got to Horca. This wasn’t an inconvenience — it was a disaster! And it was only Monday. How were we going to get supplies to continue if they didn’t open until Thursday?

While Willy tried to call Paula from a nearby pay phone I stumbled aimlessly around the parking lot in a famished stupor. Several trucks pulled in and parked but I told them everything was closed. The first few people responded “Oh well. Off to Antonito for dinner.” Maybe Antonito wasn’t that far away I thought. When the next truck pulled in we went through the same exchange, except I hesitantly asked how far Antonito was. I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was when the response came back “20 miles or so”.

The couple in the truck were from Texas and I explained the ride we were doing and the situation we were in. They told me about a campground with a little store just a mile or so down the road. It mainly sold fishing tackle and catered to the fly fishermen staying at the campground but they thought we could at least buy a few Snickers bars there.

A half hour later Willy and I had agreed the campground was really our only option. We didn’t have enough energy to ride further. There weren’t any other stores in Horca. It was starting to get dark and we were cold. Just over a mile down Highway 17 we found the Ponderosa RV Park. I think the woman running the register was a tad scared when we came in, asked for a tent site, practically emptied all of her candy on to the counter and then asked if she had any other food for purchase.

As the only tenters in the campground we had our pick of the tent sites. The sky was still looking like it might open up and downpour so we quickly setup the tent as we dug into our dinner of Twizzlers, Mounds, Snickers and other sweets which would make a dentist cringe. I fully expected to go from bonk, to major sugar high and finally to an all out sugar crash in the next 30 minutes.

But before that could happen the guy from the truck in the parking lot who told us about the campground walked into our campsite. He introduced himself as Joe Bush and said his wife Clara was making cheese omelettes in their RV and we were invited to come over for dinner.

We accepted their invitation immediately. After getting cleaned up we knocked on the door of Joe and Clara’s RV and were in for the start of a great evening — and not just because of the delicious omelettes or Negro Modelo beer Clara served up. We had a relaxing dinner and thoroughly enjoyed sitting on a couch, sharing stories and hearing about their adventures now that they were retired. A shout out goes out to Joe and Clara for helping us out when we really needed it and didn’t have many options available to us. We’ve got more about Joe, Clara and their dog Stella in an upcoming post.

 

New Mexico in the Rear View Mirror

We’re finally out of New Mexico, and not a moment too soon in our eyes. Here’s a few random thoughts I have looking back on New Mexico:

• Want to get a bad cycling tan and fast? New Mexico is the place to ride. There’s no shade and the sun is really intense. Interestingly enough New Mexico is a lot higher than I expected. For most of the ride we were near or above the elevation of Denver.
• People in New Mexico love their Green Chiles. I find them tasty and flavorful but they seem to be in everything but ice cream and I’m sure that it’s there too but we just weren’t looking hard enough.
• There are a lot more cows in the US Forest Service lands than I would have expected. Honestly, there’s more cows in all of New Mexico than I expected.
• We’ll have to see how this holds as we cross other states but you can generally tell how much space a person is going to give you based on the kind of car they drive:
  • Subaru drivers always seem to be polite and give you a whole lane or slow down and drive behind you until they can pass with a full lane’s width.
  • Mini-vans are usually just about as friendly as a Subaru driver. The exception seems to be when Dad is sometimes driving the family grocery getter he doesn’t typically give as much way as Mom does.
  • SUVs are a toss-up. If it is a rental then they usually give a fair amount of clearance. Those driving an SUV they own might just give half a lane of space.
  • Pick-up trucks are the worst at showing any respect for cyclists. In particular it seems to be people who drive white pick-up trucks feel like they shouldn’t have to share the road. If it is a white pick-up with a gun rack or louvered window slats then they don’t seem to budge an inch and you have to fight for any little bit of the road you’re using.

New Site Feature: Rideabout Shout Outs

Some of you might have already noticed the new tab named Rideabout Shout Outs at the top of the page. We’ve met a lot of great people on our ride who we wanted to acknowledge and we plan to do that by giving them a “Shout Out”. We’ll add to the Shout Out page as we meet people but we’ll also link to it from the usual posts and signal it with a megaphone icon (). We’ve met several people deserving Shout Outs already, most notably Dede who really helped us out as recapped in this post and as Willy detailed in his “New Mexico is Closed” post.

Day 15: Cuba to Private Cabins Area

As might be expected we were slow to get moving this morning after the birthday celebration at El Brunos. The WiFi at the hotel had stopped working entirely overnight so as you can imagine we were two perturbed and groggy geeks. In addition to the virtual tasks we’d hoped to complete online while we were back in civilization we had a number of errands to run and things to take care of in the physical world.

We called Stan at No Tubes and he went out of his way to accommodate us. He said he had only seen this manufacturing defect on Willy’s tire once before. He said he would send out two new tires and some sealant for us. The next town of any size we’d encounter would be Del Norte. He told us not to worry and he’d take care of getting everything sent to the local bike store there so we’d have it when we arrived. Great customer service from these guys. Coordinating a package delivery in a strange town was the last thing we wanted to be doing.

After breakfast we took care of all the usual “in-town” errands like groceries and refilling the camp stove bottles with white gas. We were slow to get moving out of town and it wasn’t because Willy was any older or because of our friend Don. It was an incredibly windy day and I think we were both putting off the inevitable. Finally we pointed our handlebars out of town and up a big 9-mile paved climb. It took all we could to muster a constant 5mph into the wind as we headed out of town.

Only a few miles into the ride it seemed like a good reason to stop when we saw two guys on tricked out Moots mountain bikes towing BOBs southbound. Steve and Matt were completing a five year effort of section biking the GDMBR. One of their BOB trailers was in pretty bad shape (they’d stopped to have it welded back together earlier in the trip) and they were going to order a new one in Cuba. We got out maps and exchanged information. We told them where to find water in the desert and they told us about some campsites with good water sources over the next few days. It was great to meet someone else doing the ride. They told us there was a group of almost 10 people headed northbound about four days in front of us which explained all the cairns we’d seen.

They also asked if we’d seen the two older ladies (In their 60s!) who were a few days in front of them. We hadn’t but from now on I’d stop and think about these two women before I’d open my mouth to complain about how hot/steep/washboarded the riding was. It really is fantastic to hear about all the different kinds of people inspired to ride their bikes on the Great Divide Route. I think our personal favorite is the couple in their 50′s who rode the route with fully loaded panniers AND BOB trailers. All of their gear was in their panniers and they were towing their terriers in the BOBs. They certainly wouldn’t have survived a day of riding with Willy because he would have classified both dogs and BOBs as extraneous weight with a very low weight to reward ratio.

Eventually we had to get back to the task at hand. While we were tempted to turn around and head back to Cuba and have a beer with Steve and Matt, we knew we had to pedal on. That’s when the real problems began.

Willy was now using a tube in his rear tire until we got the shipment from Stan. So of course he got two flat tires. Now his bike was making a racket every time he tried to shift and the low gears were virtually unusable which was unacceptable for the climbing we were doing. We spent more than two hours on the roadside making adjustments and finally settled on getting it shift in a passable state, which I really wouldn’t even classify as “good enough”. This didn’t make for a happy Willy. A second pair of GDMBR section bikers stopped to make sure everything was okay. It was nice to finally see some other people on the route. With all the mechanical problems we’ve been having I’d begun to think this whole thing was a cruel joke setup for suckers like us.

The frustrations continued as I made our first navigational error of the trip. I missed a turn off and didn’t realize until 0.7 miles later. Of course it was all uphill to get back to the junction. We stopped at the first place we could and had lunch. Willy had a great idea in the store that morning to pick up fried chicken. It was a welcome reprieve from dry tuna sandwiches or cheese and crackers and it tasted delicious.

The wind picked up as we were eating lunch and we heard cracking noises in the forest. When we hopped back on the bikes we saw what the cracking noise was all about. We were in the middle of a pretty serious windstorm and trees were being blow down left and right. Sometimes we could drag the bikes over them and other times we could ride around but often we had to detach the BOBs and portage over the downed trees. It made for slow going until we finally stopped at a nice area Steve and Matt had suggested that morning.

It had been a long day of riding but once we got a nice campfire going and got some food in us we agreed this was one of the best campsites yet, if only that pesky wind would stop blowing.

Day 16: Private Cabins Area to Abiquiu Creek

We got a really late start this morning. We didn’t leave camp until after 11:00. And it wasn’t because we’d brought Don with us for the campfire last night. We knew we had a lot of climbing ahead of us today as we’d break the 10,000 elevation mark for the first time. And not just once but three times. This gave Willy incentive to get the low gears working and the shifting as smoothly. He spent almost two hours working on his bike trying to get it to shift without a racket while I took down camp. I looked at his bike as well but fiddle with the limit screws and barrel adjusters as much as we might the cacophony of gnashing metal of gears and chain each time he shifted was an ominous sign which wouldn’t go away.

The first hour was a steady climb and it looked like our late start had allowed the US Forest Service some time to get out and clear the downed trees. But of course we soon came to a fork in the road. One path went downhill and was in good condition. The other seemed to go straight up on a surface which quickly deteriorated into mud and rock rubble. Without really needing to, I consulted the map just to “double-check, verify, re-confirm” and sure enough our route was the uphill path. We pointed the bikes up and kept pedaling. About two miles into it we hit a section which was so steep and full of loose rock we couldn’t ride. We’d covered more than 500 miles by this point and this was our first unrideable section. Luckily it was only about 200m long.

When the surface improved we remounted and kept pedaling up. At this point I need to step back and explain what transpires on a typical day on the trail. There is a lot of pedaling. That’s a given. When the road is level or paved Willy and I often ride side by side or very close together often carrying on a conversation if we’re not setting a grueling pace. Willy has explained to me several times how he “wasn’t built for climbing” while I really enjoy climbing most of the time. So when we hit the bottom of a hill we attack it heads down, at our own pace and rejoin when we take a break or at the top. After my crash in the sand on Day 2 I’ve become a bit more timorous on the downhills and Willy often takes the lead.

So as we continued up towards our goal of breaking 10,000ft today I stopped at one point to take a break and wait for Willy. He rounded the corner and it was obvious he wasn’t in a very good mood. The shifting seemed to be getting even worse. I felt bad because these were some hard hills and I was putting my low gears to good use but I had no idea what else we could adjust to fix the problem. The frustration had caused Willy to start taking more drastic measures. We had guessed that morning since all the usual adjustments weren’t working the derailleur must be bent. In a bike shop they have tools to straighten and measure such things. But on the trail we could only eyeball it. Since we didn’t kow what else it could be we thought it seemed like a good reason to blame our troubles on. Willy had already stopped several times and bent the derailleur with his bare hands trying to get it back into shape and shifting better. Of course it didn’t seem to help. At this particular rest stop the frustration had grown to the point where it needed an escape. He wanted to know how the derailleur got bent in the first place. Willy started propping the bike up and pushing it over or letting it fall on the side of the road suspecting the BOB would hit and bend the derailleur. Not once did the BOB hit the derailleuer and even worse, I don’t think the physical outlet made Willy feel any better. When Willy felt he’d dished out enough abuse we pedaled on.

After we broke 10,000 feet we stopped to celebrate with our customary treat of Twizzlers. It only provided a short distraction from the bigger problem at hand. We were days away from Del Norte where we would hit the next bike shop and in between now and then we had to tackle Indiana Pass, the highest point on the entire ride at almost 12,000ft. Our spirits were low and if we couldn’t get Willy’s bike fixed soon I feared I’d see Willy pitch the bike on roadside, thumb his way to the closest airport and buy a one way ticket home.

Despite all the problems with Willy’s bike we put in almost 50 miles by the time we stopped for the day. Steve and Matt had told us to look for a spot along Abiquiu Creek. We tried to find a campsite in the National Forest because the regulations say you can camp anywhere in a National Forest. But we couldn’t find a spot which was suitable to pitch the tent so we ended up “stealth camping” in a spot which was probably private property for our first time on the trip. It was obvious from the fire pits and empty beer bottles left by others that we weren’t the first people to deem it a decent camping spot. We setup the tent so it couldn’t be seen from the road and sat down to eat our last two MREs of chicken tetrazzini and spaghetti. Again, the MREs were pretty tasty although the beef stew remains our favorite. Over dinner we planned to ride the four miles into Abiquiu and eat a big breakfast in the morning. Then we’d investigate our options for deviating from the route to stop by a bike shop so we could get Willy’s bike fixed before tackling Indiana Pass. With our work planned for the next day we headed to bed hoping tomorrow held something better in store for us.

Day 17: Abiquiu Creek to El Rito

We packed up and were ready to head into Abiquiu this morning but of course we had to take another look at Willy’s bike to see if we could get it shifting any better. We had both bikes upside down comparing what happened each time we shifted gears when I noticed something odd: the second cog on Willy’s cassette (the gear assembly on the rear wheel) seemed to be bent pretty severely. This explained why no matter what adjustment we made to the derailleur the low gears just didn’t shift smoothly! The answer to our problems was having a shop remove the cassette and bend it back into shape or to mount a new one for us. Willy and I had a long and very deliberate discussion about mechanicals involving the cassette before we left Chicago. We had agreed the tools for working on cassettes were too heavy and bulky given the odds of having a mechanical which required us to remove the cassette. Standing here in the middle of the desert in desperate need of the cassette removal tool I wished we had bought a lottery ticket that night.

We pedaled into town feeling better because we at least knew what the problem was. Getting it fixed was a whole other issue. Our maps said the closest bike shop was 30 miles away in some New Mexican town we’d never heard of. Santa Fe was 50 miles away and known to have dozens of shops. Once we had full stomachs we’d be better equipped to decide how to proceed.

We stopped at Bode’s General Store in Abiquiu and each had a huge breakfast sandwich. We commandeered a table in the restaurant area to unfold the maps and set about talking to the staff about the location of a pay phone (of course our cell phones don’t work here), where we could get internet access so we could Google for local bike shops and if there was any place else to stock up on groceries for the next three days of riding. All the info we collected pointed to the Abiquiu Inn, just a mile down the road, being our next stop. They had the only pay phone in town and had a cafe with WiFi, although rumor was the internet connection had been knocked out in the recent windstorm.

We walked in to the cafe and the internet connection had just been fixed a few minutes earlier. We pulled out the laptop and started searching for official Gary Fisher dealers in the area. Some of the staff overheard our predicament and passed the word along to Dede Hawkes who manages the Inn. She came right over and offered Willy the keys to her Rav4 so we could drive into Santa Fe to get a new cassette installed. We were both shocked by this sudden change in our luck and were barely able to respond. You can read the full details in Willy’s post “New Mexico is Closed“. Dede gets a shout out because, without a doubt, her tremendous generosity helped keep our ride going and gave us a real boost at a time when our spirits were at their lowest.

It was almost 4:00 when Willy returned from Santa Fe and there weren’t any vacancies at the Inn leaving camping as our only option for lodging that night. So with a re-energized attitude we decided to head back to Bode’s, stock up for the next leg and make our way on to the little town of El Rito a short 20 paved miles away. Only we had to pump up my tire first. When we came out of the Inn my rear tire was completely flat. Closer inspection revealed a large gash in the sidewall. We swished the tire around so the Stan’s No Tubes sealant could work its magic, pumped it up with air and continued on our way.

At Bode’s we got all the supplies we needed to make it to Horca, Colorado and we pedaled off. Just three miles into the ride I felt the bike turn sluggish and looked down to see a flat rear tire. The hole was just too big for the sealant to work. We quickly stuck a tube in my rear tire, pumped it up and continued on our way. Even on a short day of riding it seemed we couldn’t escape without a mechanical. But it didn’t seem to matter after such a pleasant encounter and the good luck of meeting Dede. Willy’s shifting problems were behind us we putting us both in high spirits. We held a good pace all the way to El Rito.

It was getting late on a Friday evening so when we were about three miles out from El Rito we decided to split up. Willy was going to head to El Farolito to order dinner and I was following up on another tip from Steve and Matt on a place to stay — the dorms at the Northern New Mexico College, El Rito campus. When we met again at El Farolito Willy had dinner ordered (complete with milkshakes — our latest craving when the conversation turned to food). The college was closed so I didn’t have a room for us but through sheer luck I had happened to acquire the home phone number for the man in charge of housing at the college. We borrowed the phone at El Farolito, since New Mexico seems to be a black hole for cell signals, and after a quick conversation he called to arrange for the security guard let us in.

When we were in Grants we met one woman who quipped “The New Mexico tourist bureau will have you think this is the Land of Enchantment, really it is the Land of Entrapment!” Many of the people we’ve met have a story and it usually includes how they’re trying to leave New Mexico. New Mexico has been hard on us and our gear. We’re certainly looking forward to leaving New Mexico (and hopefully all the mechanicals) behind. We didn’t make as much mileage today as we had originally planned. But all in all today was turning out to be a pretty good day and things are looking up:

• Willy’s bike is shifting like it was brand new thanks to Dede loaning us her car
• We had a great dinner
• We were going to get a shower and sleep in a bed tonight
• Only two more days until we reach Colorado where we’re hoping for more shade, fewer mechanicals and will know we escaped the Land of Entrapment.