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.

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.