• Days on the trail: 73
• Days from start to end: 97 (We took a month off for elbow recuperation)
• Rest days: 9 (Includes two sick days in Del Norte)
• Miles covered: 3,136
• Average daily mileage: 46.1  (37.5 before mid-summer break and 52.0 after)
• Longest mileage in a day: 87.2
• Shortest mileage in a day: 2.59 (Across town in Del Norte when I got sick)
• Total elevation gain: 271,742ft (Equivalent to climbing from sea level to the summit of Mt. Everest more than nine times!)
• Maximum elevation gain in a day: 7,140ft (A little less than 1.5 miles)
• Highest Elevation: 11,984ft
• Minimum Elevation:  2,470ft
• Average Elevation: ~7,000ft
• Nights in a tent: 55
• Weight of Chuck’s trailer without food or water: 75lbs (Trailer weighs 17lbs empty)
• Maximum speed: 50.1mph (with trailer attached)
• Number of flats: ~20  (We lost count)
• Number of tires: 6 (Chuck 2 and Willy 4)
• Bent cassettes: 1
• Broken frames: 1
• Replaced chains: 1 on each bike
• Worn out brake pads: 1 pair (Chuck’s rear wheel)
• Punctures/Holes in inflatable sleeping mats: 3
• Trips to the ER: 1 in Salida, CO for Willy’s elbow
• Bears sighted: 4 (Two black and two grizzly)
• Pounds lost: 18 (Chuck)
• Number of other GDMBR riders met: 22 (13 throughbikers)
• Number of TransAm riders met: 4
• GB of pictures: 11GB (Switched from D200 to a point and shoot after five days)
• Pounds of Twizzler’s consumed: 14+
• Pounds of Peanut M&Ms consumed: 12+

I kept all kinds of data on the trip so if there are other stats or numbers anyone thinks would be interesting to see let me know and I’ll see if I can post them.

The first few miles were on pavement but then the road turned “primitive” according to the cues on the map. This translated to very sandy and rocky. It sapped our energy quickly. But it didn’t put a damper on our adventurous spirit. A few miles off route was a rock formation known as La Ventana, a natural arch formation. It looked like there was another road we could on the map we could take to rejoin the main route so we hoped it might only be a mile diversion. La Ventana was not that spectacular. We almost missed it when we were standing right under it. And even worse the road we had hoped to take turned out to be a gnarly horse trail. We were forced to retrace our pedal strokes making for a four mile diversion on a day when we were already not at our best. And as we rode on I wasn’t feeling any better.

We encountered Kim and Mike on the road to our campground. They’d taken a day off from the store to explore the backcountry on their motocross bikes. We again said goodbye and Kim loaded us up with some more healthy snacks.

We had one final climb into the Storm King camp and it seemed to take forever. Willy had to wait for me several times as by now I was feeling 50% at best. When we got to camp Willy took care of all the camp duties while I rested. It was a great campsite but the only issue was someone had stolen the handle to water pump! A minor nuisance because it meant the water had to be treated. After a dinner of cold fried chicken we called it an early night.

Day 26 Storm King to Upper Dome Reservoir (June 17, 2007)
Last night was probably my best sleep in the tent so far on the trip. Again, being able to rest and sleep in a bit while Willy took care of everything made a huge difference. Willy feels fully recovered and I’m nearly there. We got a reasonably early start and figured we’d have the road to ourselves as it was Sunday, and Father’s Day.

About three miles into the day’s ride we learned otherwise. The road was covered with cows. There was a steep drop on one side of the road down to a creek and the slope up on the other side was equally steep. Encountering cows isn’t an uncommon occurrence and doesn’t really phase us any more. These cows didn’t seem any different than the other herds we’d met other than they were far more vocal.

We pushed on through yelling and making honking noises. A few of the cows passed us but most of them started to turn around and run back up the slope. The cows behind them kept coming down the road. Suddenly we saw why, at the top of the hill a bunch of ranchers rounded the corner on horses and motorcycles along with cowherding dogs and a truck and horse trailer. They were equally as surprised to see Willy and I and it explained why their noisy cows who had been fine on the cattle drive so far were suddenly going bezerk. Caught between us, down the road, and the ranchers, up the road, the cows took off in the only other possible directions — down the hill to the creek and up the hill to who knows what.

By this point we were off our bikes and pushing them on the side of the road. One of the ranchers was flailing her arms like we should get out of the way. With all the mechanicals and setbacks due to sickness the last thing we wanted was a delay in the trip because the bikes got trampled by cows. We patiently flattened ourselves and the bikes up against the hillside of the road and tried to fool the cows into thinking we weren’t there. The cows weren’t buying it. Finally one of the ranchers rode down on his horse and did an excellent job of restraining his temper as he asked us to just climb up on the slope. Hoping he knew best, we left our bikes and BOBs and climbed up the hill. These still shots of Willy making his way through the herd give you a good idea of how close we get to the cows. However, this video (small and large) shows the full extent of noise and chaos involved in herding cows. The cows have already settled down at this point because we’ve climbed up the hillside.

Apparently it was us and not the bikes which scared the cows. No sooner had we climbed out of the way than the cows resumed an orderly but noisy procession down the road. At least those cows which were still on the road. By this point most of the ranchers had ridden off into the woods to corral the wayward cows which had run away.

The ranchers passed without saying much and when we thought every cow, dog, rancher and truck had passed by we resumed the climb up the road. We weren’t sure what we should have done differently than get up on the hillside sooner. When you haul a BOB up steep gravel roads you certainly think twice about turning around and going down. We saw one last rancher coming down the hill and out of the woods with a lone cow. As he passed I said “Good Morning”. He was still caught up in the whole incident and his response wasn’t necessarily directed at me. Rather it was more a commentary on everything which had just transpired, but needless to say it wasn’t fit to be put in print here.

We had two big climbs we had to work at today. Our original goal was to stop at Luder’s Creek at the top of the second climb. We pulled in only to find the handle to the pump had been taken from this campsite too! Luckily there was a natural spring not far away so we filled up with water for the night and decided to push on a little further because it was still early and you always look forward to the downhill after a hard climb.

Unfortunately there was no enjoying this downhill. As we descended through a canyon we encountered a stiff headwind no matter which way we turned. It took serious pedaling effort to maintain 5mph down a hill on which we easily would have hit 20-25mph without a headwind. Had our friend Tom been riding with us I know he would’ve been shouting “Call Security! We’ve been robbed!”. It certainly felt that way. After such a long climb we felt entitled to at least a little bit of a rest and a coast down the hill.

We finally stopped at the Upper Dome Reservoir. It wasn’t much of a site. There were a few campers and RVs but it had been a long day and we were ready to stop. Willy and I ended up talking to the guys in two different campers and did the usual explaining of what we were up to. The guy I talked to had a martini and I was hoping if he took enough interest he might offer to make one for each of us. No such luck.

Willy on the other hand met Gene, a retired biologist for the State of Colorado and an avid cyclist. By the time I decided to cut bait and go see what Willy’s conversation had yielded Gene had suggested we pitch our tent next to his camper AND given Willy two Miller High Lifes. There was no turning down the Champagne of Beers after a long day. After a few minutes we let Gene resume fixing dinner for his wife and we headed off to setup the tent.

Tonight’s dinner menu consisted of “spicy hot dogs” Willy had found at the supermarket in Del Norte. Neither of us was in a rush to cook them especially with a beer in our hands and the smell of Gene’s Dutch oven nearby cooking chicken. So we sat in our camp chairs relaxing just a little bit longer.

Then the biggest surprise of the day walked around the corner. Gene had two plates loaded up with chicken and salad. He was also carrying two more beers and he was heading our way. Gene had extra ingredients so he’d cooked everything up to share with us. The meal was fantastic and a good way to end an eventful day. As we crawled into the tent we thought we might even watch the final episode of LOST which we’d gotten off of iTunes while we were in Del Norte. I fired up the laptop only to be greeted with “Finder/?” symbol — a Mac’s way of telling you there has been a hard drive failure. Add computers to our list of everything that is broken.

Day 27 Upper Dome Reservoir to Marshall Creek Pass (June 18, 2007)
We got a leisurely start the next morning after talking with Gene about bikes. We packed up and were about ready to roll out when Willy noticed his back tire was flat. As we were replacing the tube he also noticed one of his spokes was broken. The spoke was on the driveside so even though we had replacement spokes we didn’t have the tools to fix it. We cut the spoke out, changed the tube and were off.

Less than 10 miles into the day’s ride Willy’s tire went flat again. We were really looking forward to getting to Salida tomorrow because it was the first town with a bike shop since Silver City, New Mexico — more than 750 miles. We both planned to have our bikes completely tuned up so we could hopefully put all these mechanicals behind us.

We pushed on to the small town of Sargents for lunch. We had a tailwind so it made the 15 miles on a busy highway go quickly. At the cafe in Sargents there were flash road bikes lined up everywhere and we had to park around the corner. The whole cafe was clad in spandex when we walked in. It turns out a big week long road tour of cyclists from Indiana and Oregon had stopped here to eat lunch too. We exchanged all kinds of stories and were off again.

The afternoon ended with a big climb up Marshall Pass. The road was an old railroad bed (prior to that it had been a toll road for horse drawn wagons) which had since been converted to a forest road. Since trains generally can’t climb at more than a 4% grade it meant a long but consistent climb for us. We found the right gear and just pedaled.

About four miles from the summit we decided to call it a day in one of my favorite campsites so far. For dinner we prepared the spicy hot dogs we had planned to eat the evening before. They were terrible. I wasn’t even able to finish one. Willy powered through one and half but it definitely left our stomachs empty.

As we sat around the campfire trying to think of all the meals we’ve had in our lives which were worse than the spicy hot dogs (and there weren’t many) Willy’s luck wasn’t getting any better. An ember jumped out of the fire and burned right through his shorts and his inflatable chair/sleeping mattress. He broke out the patch kit and fixed yet another hole for the day. We quickly headed to bed hoping tomorrow would start off better.

Day 28 Marshall Creek Pass to Salida (June 19, 2007)
When retrieving water the night before Willy had told me to be prepared with the camera because there was a massive washout down the road. I hadn’t imagined anything quite as spectacular as we encountered. One of the culverts under the road had become clogged with branches and a stretch of road 100ft across had exploded and washed away downstream.

There was no option of riding around this obstacle. We removed the BOBs and proceeded as if we’d encountered a hike-a-bike section of a course in an adventure race. It only proved to be a 20 minute delay but it was an awesome show of the power of Mother Nature.

An hour later we were at the summit of Marshall Pass, and another Continental Divide Crossing.

Again, because the road had once been used by trains the descent was a nice ride through the forest without sudden drops or sharp curves. It really was an enjoyable ride all the way to the highway where we had to pedal the last few miles into the town of Salida.

We hadn’t even had a chance to get off the bikes in Salida when I knew we’d be spending some time here. This place wasn’t anything like Pie Town or Grants. There were people out and about. The downtown was thriving. The people of the town had built a riverside park along the Arkansas River and a white water kayak course in it. I knew I would have traded all of our rest days so far just to spend one rest day here.

The first stop was Absolute Bikes. It was time to get the bikes tuned up and get all these mechanicals behind us. When the head mechanic, Scot, heard we were doing the GDMBR he made sure we were taken care of. He knew we were on a timetable and he knew how much we depend on our bikes so he had his work schedule cleared so he could tune them up himself. Now that’s service!

While the bikes were getting tuned up we got cleaned up. I found a place in Steamboat Springs who could fix the laptop by the time we got there in a week if I shipped it ahead. We bought supplies for the next few days. All of our clothes were freshly laundered. Amica’s, the local brewpub and pizzeria took care of those hunger pangs from the lousy dinner the night before. It seemed all of our in-town errands were done in a flash and like we had really found our groove.

When Scot called to tell us the bikes were ready we stopped by to grab them and told him to meet us for a beer when Absolute Bikes closed that evening. We agreed to meet at a great looking little restaurant Willy and I had seen earlier in the day. It turns out the owners were originally from Chicago. They had pictures of Chicago throughout the place and even the bar would have fit in an old corner neighborhood bar back home. We ate dinner and had a round of microbrews with Scot. It felt like we could have been at The Map Room back home. Everything was comfortable and felt right.

At the end of the night we were a bit sad because we had taken care of everything we needed to in town and we felt pretty good. It only made sense to press on in the morning if we didn’t need a rest day. We splurged on a hotel that evening but as we drifted off to sleep we made a mental note to return to Salida again sometime soon.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Willy’s 43rd Birthday Celebration

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.

We planned to get an early start. But it just didn’t happen. Willy had convinced me the weight to reward ratio of my Nikon D200 was too low. So before we set out I ordered a new camera the size of a deck of playing cards from Amazon. I knew we’d be in Pie Town in four or five days so I figured I’d send the bulky D200 and with Amazon Prime UPS would have it delivered by the time we got there. The question was where exactly in Pie Town, New Mexico was “there”? I’d never tried the USPS General Delivery system where you can arrange to pick up your mail at a Post Office but I knew hikers on the Appalachian Trail used it to send supplies. It was Sunday of Memorial Day weekend so calling the Post Office in Pie Town wouldn’t help. I proceeded with my “One-click” shopping and decided to hope for the best.

Geno, Willy and I set off to have breakfast together before we departed but every place in town was closed. We eventually stumbled on a severely understaffed restaurant by the name of Grandma’s Kitchen. Even though the waitress was doing her best, service was extremely slow. There were just too many people. To make matters worse, “Grandma” was in the kitchen yelling. The net result was we only received half of our breakfast, it took almost 90 minutes to get in and out and by the time we left the waitress and “Grandma” were no longer speaking. It was 11:00 and the desert sun was blazing but Willy and I were itching to get out of town so we bid Geno farewell and pedaled off.

The first half of the day was great riding. For the first half the road was smooth and paved. It was hilly but we still made good time. After stopping off briefly to see the oldest copper mine in America we hit another dirt road. It wound through the mountains until it finally released us near the little town of Mimbres. The rolling hills and curves were exhilarating. While it was nice to have spent the day in Silver City we were both glad to be in the saddle and having a good day of riding.

We stopped at a ranger station for lunch hoping to get more information about water availability for the next few days. Of course, it was still Sunday of Memorial Day weekend so no one was around. We had already fallen into the travelers routine of eat, bike, sleep and repeat. We no longer knew what day it was. We only knew our routine — eat, bike and sleep.

From reading other people’s accounts of the GDMBR we knew today would be the first hard day. I don’t think either of us realized what hard meant. A few miles into the ride after lunch we turned off to a gravel road warning of steep grades and sharp curves. Suddenly the “Granny Gear” on our bikes became our best friend. We slowly wound our way up the mountain grunting and sweating and wishing there was just one gear lower.

It was an afternoon of hard work climbing and riding the ridges which follow the Continental Divide but we were rewarded with our best campsite yet when the day came to an end. We sat around the campfire and cooked up a gourmet meal of Indian food with Quinoa at the suggestion of our buddy Kurt from the Silver City RV Park. He has been a lifelong vegetarian and camper and assured us we wouldn’t be disappointed. We devoured the meal. While we had only pedaled roughly 40 miles, the huge uphills resulting in over 3,000 feet of climbing made us ravenous. While reflecting on the day after dinner Willy calculated if we are to climb 200,000 feet by the time we get to Banff then 3,000 feet of climbing makes for an average day. Neither of us would survive 50 more days of hauling overflowing BOBs up hills like we had encountered today. This scary fact set us to again thinking to what we could jettison and send home as we crawled into our sleeping bags for the evening.

GDMBR Day 6: Rocky Canyon Campground to Beaverhead Workcenter

We knew the route for today was going to be hilly and the temps were already soaring. After a breakfast of oatmeal we decided it was best to boil some water from the nearby stream so we’d have enough fluids to make it through the day. It meant we again got off to a fairly late start, shortly after 10:00am but it turned out to be the best decision of the day. We again had some monster climbs. When there was a downhill we’d look up to enjoy the scenery but there always seemed to be more uphill.

Around 6:00pm we arrived at the Beaverhead Workstation where Forest Service workers who manage the Gila National Forest live. The place seemed dead. The information center was closed (it still had not sunk in that it was Memorial Day) and we collapsed at a picnic table out front next to a soda pop vending machine and a telephone booth. We scraped together enough change between us to buy a Coke out of the vending machine. Itbarely gave us enough energy to haul our gear 200m as opposed to setting up camp in the ranger’s front yard. Having spent our change on a quick sugar fix Willy investigated making a collect call back to Chicago. The operator informed him the charges would be $30 for 3 minutes and 30 seconds. Outraged and tired we headed back to our tent.

We’ve started to find our groove and the daily ritual involves reviewing the route for the next day before turning in. The next town we would hit was Pie Town. For the past two days when the going got tough the talk turned to what kind of pie we’d order once we got to Pie Town. Now that we took a closer look we saw Pie Town wasn’t much of a town at all. The only reason the town finds its way on to a map is because of the delicious pies advertised by the owner of a cafe in town. According to the guide book it has a population of about 50 people, no grocery store and one cafe. I felt better now that I understood why Orbitz didn’t return any results when I had searched for hotels in Pie Town a few days before. But my stomach suddenly sunk, expecting to resupply in Pie Town we had only bought enough food in Silver City for four days on the bike. It was going to be at least six days on the bike until we reached Grants, the next major town. Six days was optimistic if the hills continued to be so big and our pace so slow. We drifted off to sleep knowing there was nothing we could do about it that evening.

GDMBR Day 6: Beaverhead Workcenter to base of John Kerr Peak

We made good time taking down camp and making breakfast. As we cleaned up one of the residents of the workstation stopped by after his morning run. He was a native New Mexican named Clyde, born and raised in the town of Truth or Consequences (That’s “T or C” to those in the know). This was his 5th season fighting fires for the forest service.

He told us all about what it was like to fight fires and live in the mountains for the summer. He also took a genuine interest in our ride. Somehow the topic turned to food and he offered to set us up with a few MREs (Meals Ready Eat). MREs are the rations given to the soldiers in the Armed Forces but they are also used by the Forest Service when they spend up to 14 days in the forest fighting fires. Willy went with Clyde to the supply shed and chose two Spaghetti dinners, one Beef Roast and one Chicken Tetrazini. After all of the mechanical problems, crashes and other strokes of bad luck it seemed like something good had come our way to help us overcome the issue of being short on supplies. Willy calls it “serentripity” when things just work out for you when you’re traveling. We both owe a big shout out to Clyde at the Beaverhead Workstation for his generosity!

We stopped for a photo about five miles outside of camp and I fell over when I couldn’t get my shoe to release from the pedal — more bruises. It turned out one of the screws in my cleat had fallen out. It took both of us to figure out a way to get the cleat to release. I was happy it happened when it did instead of when I was tearing down a gravel road at 30mph. We eventually got the cleat mounted and managed to get the picture we had originally stopped for.

A few miles later I noticed the GPS on my handlebars was at a funny angle. As I was looking at it the whole handlebar started to rotate. All of the bumps had caused the handlebars work their way loose. While I was tightening the handlebars Willy noticed the screw the guys at Gila Hike and Bike had fashioned for me had come out and my suspension was only a few bumps away from blowing apart. I again found another screw to hold it together and made a mental note to get Loctite when we hit a town with a hardware store. Meanwhile Willy made jokes about always knowing I’d had a screw loose but he never realizing there were quite so many loose. With yet another mechanical disaster averted we continued our ride through cow country.

Shade dictates where you stop for lunch

Most of the day’s ride was flat or even slightly downhill. But it didn’t mean the going was any easier because we had a 10-15mph headwind. Late in the afternoon we hit La Jolla Canyon which might be my favorite bit of biking on the ride so far. The canyon protected us from the wind and you could build up lots of speed winding through this beautiful little section of New Mexico.

After the canyon we rolled out onto the wide open flats of the Plains of San Agustin. This is the site of the largest radio telescope in the world where the satellite dishes are mounted on train cars so they can be freely moved around the desert. It was an interesting site to see such a large, flat and open expanse in the middle of the mountains and mesas but we had more important things to focus on: water!

As we prepared to make camp that night we realized we were low on water. We stopped at a windmill and climbed a barbwire fence only to find the well was dry. We were tired and thirsty and couldn’t find a sheltered campsite anywhere. After taking a side trip almost three miles off the route into the John Kerr Peak area we found a nice flat spot along a creek, which of course was dry. Adding to the ambiance of the site were plenty of cow pies and cows passing through. We didn’t have enough water to make the noodles we planned to have that night and we didn’t even have enough water to activate the heaters in the MREs if we wanted full water bottles for the next morning. We snacked on the other items in the MRE which were pretty good: cheese and crackers, cookies, hard candy. Each one even comes with a tiny bottle of Tabasco sauce.

While I reviewed the maps for the next day Willy went out for a bike ride. When he didn’t return after an hour and it was nearly dark I began to get worried. Just as I was setting off to find him I heard the rumble of the gravel under his tires as he returned with two items of big news:

• He had found water! It was running out of culvert and was very clear. We’d boil it just to be safe but this allowed us to fix the rest of the MREs. He dined on beef roast while I had spaghetti. They hit the spot after a long day and we were able to drink until our thirst was quenched.

• He had seen a bear! Well, in the shadows of dusk he had seen some sort of animal in the dark a little ways up the mountain. In the end he reckons it was a 3% chance it was a bear and 97% chance it was a cow. Seeing all the open range cows wandering through our camp that night I think it was probably a cow. But it is only a few days into the trip so we still plenty of time for Animal Planet moments in the future.

GDMBR Day 7: Base of John Kerr Peak to Pie Town

We made great time in the morning and were on the road by 9:00am. We both felt good and we thought we might even make it to Pie Town for a steak dinner and pie in the evening if we pushed hard enough. But our routine seems to call for some sort of mechanical disaster each morning and this time Willy’s BOB obliged. As we were heading down a bumpy, gravel road the wheel came off his BOB. Luckily he was able to maintain control and nothing broke.

The road turned to a bumpy washboard for the rest of the morning and around noon the sun was again blazing. We weren’t happy bikers. We’d stopped at a church earlier in the day to grab extra water but we had not anticipated how hot the day was going to be. We grabbed some nasty green water out of a pond to use as a last resort but supposedly there was another work center and a seasonal spring just up the road. The work center was closed but the spring was running. The water wasn’t clear like a bottle of Fiji or Evian but we were thirsty and it tasted okay so we filled up and continued on. Now that we had water we felt strong enough to make it all the way to Pie Town. We talked about what kind of pie we’d eat and joked about what we’d do if the Pie-o-neer Cafe was closed.

As we forged on a rancher passed us in a huge white diesel pickup with dualies not unlike we’d become accustomed to seeing on these backcountry roads. But this rancher stopped and asked what and how we were doing. After a few minutes he offered the use of a well just a few miles down the road where we could stop and fill up. He said it would be clean and cold and was there not only for the cattle but for anyone who needed water. He only asked for us to shut off the pump when we were done and then drove off.

Three miles later two guys from the city are standing next to a well trying to figure out how to turn it on. We were twisting knobs, unscrewed the power panel and were just about ready to give up. Finally, Willy tried the obvious, opened the circuit breaker box, flipped a switch and an ice cold stream of water started to shoot out. It was so cool and refreshing we doused ourselves to clean up a little and cool off as well as filled up the water bottles. Now, we knew we were strong enough to make it to Pie Town!

We crossed the Continental Divide twice more that afternoon and our tanks were nearly empty as we pulled into town. The first stop was the campground but it looked to be completely empty and didn’t even have a place to check-in. We headed over to the Pie-o-neer figuring the people there could give us some information since the cafe is destination of both Continental Divide Trail (CDT) hikers and GDMBR bikers alike. As we rolled in we couldn’t believe our eyes. The Pie-o-neer was closed! They were only open from 8:00-3:00 four days a week. And they weren’t open at all today or tomorrow — we were fit to be pied!
We had counted on eating dinner and breakfast at the Pie-o-neer. Not only were we disappointed after putting in a big day of more than 50 miles but it looked like we would again be short on supplies.

We headed back to the campground, setup and made another dinner of Indian food and Quinoa. Luckily on the way back to camp we discovered another cafe had opened in town since the guide book was published and they opened at 8:00 the following morning. We planned to be there when they opened to have big breakfasts and pie. We knew we’d need our strength for such a feast so we headed to bed early.

In the future we’ll try to put content with the stats but so many people were asking how the trip was going we at least wanted to update you on the progress we’ve made so far.

…and it has been very eventful. Broken bikes, hail storms, rattlesnakes and more. We’re back in Silver City but only had time to post the stats for our initial three days on the bike. I’m posting the links to MotionBased from my GPS and we’ll post the stories of what happened once we landed in Albuquerque later this week. In the morning we leave Silver City and head back into the New Mexico wilderness.

Stay tuned…