So out of cactus country and into more desert. We had even more hills to climb with not too much water to quench the thirst. Sometimes it felt like we were riding in a convection oven. The good thing was that we were not alone. In fact over this next section we would see at least one person riding along the Southern tier. Everyone always friendly, the only disagreement would be which party had the favoured wind. Not matter which direction the person was travelling, everyone had a headwind to complain about. Sometimes I wish I could get a picture that would capture the wind. Then again I don’t think in the years to come I will want to be reminded of those windy days. You can be sure that if I could take a picture of the wind, in every photo it would be smiling, nay laughing at us, in every photo.
Our journey was long and dry. We broke up the day with a short stop in the town of Langtry where a man by the name of Judge Roy Bean ruled the counties with an iron fist (as well as the local bar). Being so close to the Mexican border he held a professional fight against Texas and USA authority. All he had to do was construct a bridge over the Rio Grande and hold the fight on Mexican turf. To me he seemed to write the law as apposed to uphold it. The information center was very informative but probably the best selling points were the air-conditioning, cold water and free admission. Reluctantly we left our cocoon of comfort rolling in to Seminole Canyon National Park. Exhausted we were disappointed to find out that night daylight saving would begin. This meant one less hour sleep for our exhausted bodies.
The next day we made our way out early. The incentive was to be in greener pastures and a lunch in Del Rio. Gradually as we neared the Amistad Reservoir on the outskirts of Del Rio the scenery changed. We started seeing woody structures on the sides of the side of the road which we later identified as trees. We gorged ourselves to celebrate the greenery at a Texas BBQ chain. Not knowing how the system of ordering meet by the pound it took us three orders to get it right (the third was for a pecan pie dessert of course). Our mood had changed but unfortunately the wind hadn't. We charged on along a our trusty highway number ninety to Brackettville. Texas (or Tejas as it was originally called) has a reputation for things being bigger, this saying certanily holds true for the road surfaces. Probably the most teeth rattling sections of our journey have been in Texas with the chip rock on the roads being almost the size of boulders. I may need to get a few replacement teeth fillings.
Brackettville was a the first of many small towns that we would find ourselves saying "you could really enjoy living here one day." It seemed to have everything that you needed to get by with. Part of the town was an old fort called Fort Clark Springs, now it was very much a retirement/semi-retired village. We retired there for the evening with a couple of pints of Blue Bell ice-cream. Our nightmares of more chip rock roads and head winds became a reality when we awoke the next day. With no more fillings to lose it was just a bone on bone grind for the day. We continued along farm roads past many ranches used as target practice for the many gun happy people or ventured out to these parts. Many of the ranches were filled with exotic animals that bosted year long hunting. On one section of the road we came across two stray deer that had freed themselves. Startled they began jumping reclessly into the fences on either side of the road trying to escape the roadway. With bits of fur flying all over the place and less strength in their step they finally gave up as we cycled past. A couple of gentlemen who owned one of the nearby ranches were disappoitned we couldn't steer them toward their entrance.
We pedalled for what seemeed to be an eternity. The country side was picturesque and the hills began to increase in frequency. We enjoyed short stops in quaint little towns like Campwood, Leakey and Vanderpool. Some of the steepest sections of our adventure were in this section. One area was called "the wall" for obvious reasons. This was an area enjoyed by many motorcyclists because of the windy, tree lined and steep sections. Unfortunately our bikes were fuelled by our legs. Somehow we managed to persist and sweat out the pavement pounding. That night, over 90 miles from our beginning, we got to the Lost Maples State Area to pitch our tent only to find out that the only camping left (mainly due to the Spring Break crowds) was at the primitive sites. Th Ranger, who must have a distant relative working at a bike shop in Las Cruces, would take no pity on us insisting we start hiking before the sun gets too low instead of allowing us to camp elsewhere.
The next morning we had one last steep climb before continuing on through Hill Country. The route continued past more ranches, winding up and down more hills and followed the course of the Guadalupe River. We passed more of those little country towns such as Hunt, Ingram and Kerrville. One large buffet lunch later and we could not pass up the opportunity of camping in Comfort, albeit next to the interstate. In Comfort we met another cyclist travelling cross country supported in an RV by his wife. The following day their help (thanks Mike and Vargie) was priceless. Alison had further spoke and rear wheel trouble. First the replacement spoke jumped out onto the road. Once relocated and repositioned another completely different spoke decided to break. More repairs ensued and we continued to ride with our fingers crossed. The tac tic worked as we pulled in to camp in the backyard of the EMS of Wimberley.
A sleep in complete with donut sharpened our mood as we continued on to Austin. The road out of Wimberley was similar to the Hill Country. It had hills, narrow roads and no shoulder. The only difference, unfortunately, was that here there was a lot more traffic. We may have had our first encounter with road rage, however, at that speed all we could hear was "blah blah blah." I think the translation might be - "I am fat, lazy and I am late for my appointment at McDonalds." The road improved, as did the drivers patience as we approached Austin. After all we were in Lance Armstrong territory now (as we kept getting reminded). Around midday we arrived at our destination, deposited our bikes for a tune up and awaited a lift to a much needed stay with our hosts Sal and Dora.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Central and Eastern Texas
After a great night's camping behind the Emergency Medical Services building (thankfully we didn't require their services during the night) we had a leisurely morning getting ready to ride into Austin. Our first stop, however, was a block away, for some doughnuts, which Alison had been craving for several days. Yummmm! We then headed off on the shoulder-less, moderately busy road out of town, traveling over the last of the hills that we would see for a while. The ride into Austin proved to be painless, with a tailwind, mostly quiet roads and smooth surfaces. You have no idea how important all of these factors come until you are cycling across country! We arrived at the bike shop of choice around 1, and were picked up shortly by our fantastic host, cook and tour guide for the weekend, Sal. We relieved ourselves of our bikes and BOB trailers, left under the watchful eyes and hopefully competent hands, of the bike shop, and headed off for a fews days of laziness. ;)
Our first event in Austin was to see a free concert by the Strokes, right on the river/lake in Austin, eat awesome tacos, drink 40 oz cans of Fosters (for the 1st AND last time I'd like to add!) and get a free fireworks show at the end. The rest of our time in Austin was spent checking our more free live music, farmer's markets, being treated to an authentic Mexican feast, courtesy of Sal and his mom's recipes, absolutely indulging in Blue Bell ice cream, and relaxing at a wine bar. It was a great weekend and we were a bit reluctant to be heading off on our bikes again after such great hospitality. So THANKS Sal and Dora!
The ride out of Austin was as painless as the ride in, and we had a great night camping at Beuscher State Park. From here on, the scenery in Texas proceeded to get more and more beautiful. The rest of the way was rolling, small hills, green farmland, wild flowers everywhere, beautiful farm mansions, gorgeous quaint towns and people have started talking more and more Southern. Our new afternoon treat is now cream pie from some hole in the wall diner, where everyone calls us ma'am and sir, and other than that we can't understand a word out of their mouths! They can't understand much out of Matt's mouth either, so I love sitting back and watching the most awkward conversations unfold! :)
We have just crossed into Louisiana, and will spend tonight in DeRidder, before heading into the 'heart of Cajun country' (quoted from Adventure Cycling, and we REALLY hope they aren't mistaken, because we have a hankerin' for some good fried chick'n and jumbalaya!) in Mamou, LA. Our next big task is to map out and plan a route so that we can detour and ride into New Orleans by next weekend, where we will once again impose on friends' of friends for several days to wash our smelly cycling clothes and eat copious amounts of food. I hope they are as excited as we are!
Our first event in Austin was to see a free concert by the Strokes, right on the river/lake in Austin, eat awesome tacos, drink 40 oz cans of Fosters (for the 1st AND last time I'd like to add!) and get a free fireworks show at the end. The rest of our time in Austin was spent checking our more free live music, farmer's markets, being treated to an authentic Mexican feast, courtesy of Sal and his mom's recipes, absolutely indulging in Blue Bell ice cream, and relaxing at a wine bar. It was a great weekend and we were a bit reluctant to be heading off on our bikes again after such great hospitality. So THANKS Sal and Dora!
The ride out of Austin was as painless as the ride in, and we had a great night camping at Beuscher State Park. From here on, the scenery in Texas proceeded to get more and more beautiful. The rest of the way was rolling, small hills, green farmland, wild flowers everywhere, beautiful farm mansions, gorgeous quaint towns and people have started talking more and more Southern. Our new afternoon treat is now cream pie from some hole in the wall diner, where everyone calls us ma'am and sir, and other than that we can't understand a word out of their mouths! They can't understand much out of Matt's mouth either, so I love sitting back and watching the most awkward conversations unfold! :)
We have just crossed into Louisiana, and will spend tonight in DeRidder, before heading into the 'heart of Cajun country' (quoted from Adventure Cycling, and we REALLY hope they aren't mistaken, because we have a hankerin' for some good fried chick'n and jumbalaya!) in Mamou, LA. Our next big task is to map out and plan a route so that we can detour and ride into New Orleans by next weekend, where we will once again impose on friends' of friends for several days to wash our smelly cycling clothes and eat copious amounts of food. I hope they are as excited as we are!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
In a car finally!! This was a luxurious trip to us down to Big Bend Nat'l Park. Matt thought he was still on the bike tho, clearly. Good to know you're well hydrated Matt!
A typical roadside lunch stop - peanut butter on whole wheat tortillas as trucks rush by, any takers?
Friday, March 11, 2011
Big Bend and beyond
We decided that since we were well due for a day off from riding, rather than just hang out in a hotel room, watching TV for 48 hours, that we would hire a car in Alpine, Texas and drive to Big Bend National Park. Honestly, getting into a car and being able to zoom off to the grocery store, where we could buy way more food than we could carry on our bikes, and then zoom off down the highway 100 miles in about 1.5 hours, was a very liberating feeling! We were definitely due for a bit of 'luxury' in that way. We spent 2 nights camping in Big Bend, and managed to hike 11 miles (16kms) on our 'day off', which doesn't sound like much of a day off, but actually the change of leg motion was nice. I have to add in here the quantity of food that we consumed on this 2 day trip was absolutely exorbitent, and probably enough to sustain a small country for several days. It's embarrassing, but here goes:
1 bag of malt balls, 1 chorizo sausage, 2 cans of chickpeas, 2 cans of tomatoes, 1 bunch of swiss chard, 1 loaf of bread, 1 pecan danish, 1 lg bag of tortilla chips, 1 jar of salsa, 2 boxes of cereal, 1 lg yoghurt, 1/2 gallon of milk, 8 bananas, 6 apples, 2 pkgs gnocchi, 1 jar of pesto, 1 can of olives, 1 red pepper, 1 lg bag of spinach, 2 heads of broccoli, 1 pkg feta cheese, 1.5 L wine, and 2 ice creams.
Isn't that disgusting? Needless to say, when we got back on our bikes after 1.5 days off, we felt VERY energetic. :)
So after our adventure/eating extravagganza in Big Bend, we returned our rental car to Alpine, and then rode 30 miles that afternoon to Marathon. It was a pretty easy ride, although we are finding that the wind is almost always present in Texas. We had heard from every cyclist we passed (and by now it had been a lot) about a free hostel for cyclists in Marathon, so we decided to check that out. Turns out it wasn't exactly what I'd call a hostel, but more of a art/hippie commune where some ppl are living, building very odd buildings, and they have an extra room full of random mattresses and beds, dubbed a 'hostel' and cross-country cyclists can stay there for free. We did get a warm night's sleep on a mattress, use of an outdoor kitchen, a shower/toilet and so far, fingers crossed, no sign of bed bugs. :) Really tho, hospitality is much appreciated and we slept very well.
Today we rode 55 miles from Marathon to Sanderson, arriving at 1:45! We are now in the land of not-much-in-between however, and so we are staying here, before we ride 85 miles tomorrow to the next town with services available. It should be an alright day, provided we don't have any major headwinds!
All we need is a shoulder to ride on...
Relief fell upon us as we wobbled in to Las Cruces. We had managed to get through the 50 odd miles with a broken spoke in great time, passing Hatch the chile capital as well as the many pecan orchards on the outskirts of town. We had plenty of time to grab a hotel and navigate to the only bike shop in town (or so we thought). Our relief soon turned in to anxiety as the owner of the bike shop quite bluntly said he was too busy to help, whilst in the same sentence trying to tell us that he always tried to do the best thing by visitors. Most bike shops we have visited during this trip and in the lead up, have always been more than helpful. I feel that if I had a unicycle and wanted an extra wheel, then at Moe's back in North Bend, the next day I could walk out with a bicycle. This guy is definitely an exception to that rule - with his superior 'tool' skills he was able to diagnose us with a broken spoke that he could not fix. Maybe I shouldn't judge, maybe he had a bad day, maybe his wife left him...lucky lady. After getting blood out of a stone and twisting his arm there was still a glimmer of hope that we could be on the road soon. The was another bike shop in town!
Frantically we made the extra journey. Alas, there was an extra bike shop and yes he was able to help. Not only that he could service our bikes for pick up the following day and then he offered us a lift back to the motel. Yes, the other fellow was definitely the exception. Back at the hotel we relaxed and walked to the historical town of Mesilla. It seems everyone from the first Native Americans, to the Mexicans, to the Confederates and the Union wanted a piece of this area. Although the historical information was interesting it wasn't going to suppress our appetite. Instead we gorged ourselves on a great feast of Mexican food at La Posta of Mesilla. With our blood supply isolated to our digestive system we rested well, perhaps a little too well.
The next day we lazilly picked up our bikes and made our way South toward El Paso. We continued this first section with another fellow doing the Southern Tier in preparation for the Continental Divide. It was relatively flat until we parted ways just outside of El Paso. We were going to bypass the city and its Traffic that meant a small uphill ride through Anthony's Gap. We finally reached Texas and continued along the outer boundary. It was within this time that we realised we were going to be stuck between lodgings. The sun set a little too quickly for our liking and it was at this stage that we realised we had underestimated the distances by about ten miles. Our only choice was to ride by with our lights on. Our journey involved crossing over the interstate a couple times and almost reaching the Mexico boder (OK, maybe not that far but it felt like it). Not only did we misjudge the distance but now we were lost on our way to the camp ground. A few phone calls to the RV park and a few extra miles back over the interstate we had arrived at our location. We vowed not to do that again.
By daylight Texas seemed to be the state of 'D's. It seemed dry, dusty and desolate. Determined not to make th esame mistake twice we got an early start. We were soon out of the urban traffic and enjoying the ride along almost traffic free country roads. If only there was something to look at beside the dry plains on either side. As the earth began to heat up the winds began to prevail. Not only did they increase i nintensity they decided to blow straight at us. Now under most normal circumstances I would be ridiculed for being the windbreaker but at this time I was revered. As usual I was not willing to be the only one to receive the credit as the windbreaker we decided to to share this important status. The final destination was a small town, perhaps soon to be ghost town, called Sierra Blanca. Yes, Sierra does mean uphill too. It also means Border Check Point, despite there being no border at all. Luckily as an exhausted cyclist we were rushed through without too much hassle.
Despite a one pound burger nestled in our stomachs our sleep was to be full of interuptions. First it was the trucks thundering past then it was the constant line of trains honking their way through town. Without much sleep we continued on through the mountain top basin. We were thankful that the day's ride did not require too much in the way of brain power. We were following an interstate frontage road almost all day. This meant almost non existent traffic along a well paved road. This was also the day I came up with the Law of Basin Winds for Cyclists. It states - "no matter which way the cyclist faces there is an equal and opposite wind force." Our windbreaking skills were futile, we just had to push on as best we could. Eventually stopped for refueling in a town called Van Horn, where there seems to be more hotels/motels than there are people. Our fuel of choice was called Chuy's Restaurant. I learnt that this place is frequented by a white haired, ex-footbal turned commentator called John Madden. After selecting the exact same meal the big man eats I was ready for a treat. However, instead I discovered a new 'D' word for this Texas delicacy and that is dull. Despite asking for hot, I got something a little more insipid. I've had cinnamon buns with more spice. After reading the menu I found the error of my way, apparently, Mr Madden phones ahead when he decides to visit. Thus, ensuring the freshest of home cooked meals, I think my meal was left over from when he was last here (or pehaps he had his tastebuds knocked out as a player).
Onward we punched through the wind to camp at Kent. I am not sure why this place deserved a name as for that night only it had a population of two. It seems as though everyone had decided to board up and leave. That night we were able to add two more 'D' words to texas - dirty and dehydrated. With no occupants the water supply had been turned off and toilet paper had begun to accumulate. Anxiously we set off the next morning with two bottles of water between us. Fortune smiled upon us as we stumbled upon an occupied ranch down the road who allowed us to replenish our almost non existent water supply. Fortune then decided to laugh at us also by peltering us with gale force winds. This lead me to my second Cyclist Wind Law - "a strong side wind can be just as bad as a headwind." We later learnt there were gusts of between 60-70 miles/hour! Even on downhills we had to pedal to maintain speed. Relief was obtained when we finally reached the McDonald Observatory. This was quite an interesting experience. After a hard ride though it was a little overwhelming for both of us, Alison falling asleep through a talk on sunspots.
That night we enjoyed a great stay at the Davis Mountains State Park. The facilities were great and we managed to wash away a few D's (dehydration and dull) with copious water and a great chicken fried steak. Actually it is the second best chicken fried steak, and only just, I have ever tasted. The first honour goes to Ma, now anyone should be happy with that comparison. With echoes of talks about sunspots and cosmic gases we fell asleep amongst the tranquil surrounds. The following day we lucked out with the weather and the road conditions. The wind had moved behind us (as it usually does for Alison) and the road was by far the best we had ridden on yet. We sped on in to the small town of Alpine for some much needed time off the saddle.
This section of the trip was also highlighted by a large number of meetings with other Southern Tier riders. Some were older (up to 73 years of age), some were going West and one was pulling a dog. It seems we all had the same ethic as the chicken trying to cross the road - and that is to get to the other side.
Frantically we made the extra journey. Alas, there was an extra bike shop and yes he was able to help. Not only that he could service our bikes for pick up the following day and then he offered us a lift back to the motel. Yes, the other fellow was definitely the exception. Back at the hotel we relaxed and walked to the historical town of Mesilla. It seems everyone from the first Native Americans, to the Mexicans, to the Confederates and the Union wanted a piece of this area. Although the historical information was interesting it wasn't going to suppress our appetite. Instead we gorged ourselves on a great feast of Mexican food at La Posta of Mesilla. With our blood supply isolated to our digestive system we rested well, perhaps a little too well.
The next day we lazilly picked up our bikes and made our way South toward El Paso. We continued this first section with another fellow doing the Southern Tier in preparation for the Continental Divide. It was relatively flat until we parted ways just outside of El Paso. We were going to bypass the city and its Traffic that meant a small uphill ride through Anthony's Gap. We finally reached Texas and continued along the outer boundary. It was within this time that we realised we were going to be stuck between lodgings. The sun set a little too quickly for our liking and it was at this stage that we realised we had underestimated the distances by about ten miles. Our only choice was to ride by with our lights on. Our journey involved crossing over the interstate a couple times and almost reaching the Mexico boder (OK, maybe not that far but it felt like it). Not only did we misjudge the distance but now we were lost on our way to the camp ground. A few phone calls to the RV park and a few extra miles back over the interstate we had arrived at our location. We vowed not to do that again.
By daylight Texas seemed to be the state of 'D's. It seemed dry, dusty and desolate. Determined not to make th esame mistake twice we got an early start. We were soon out of the urban traffic and enjoying the ride along almost traffic free country roads. If only there was something to look at beside the dry plains on either side. As the earth began to heat up the winds began to prevail. Not only did they increase i nintensity they decided to blow straight at us. Now under most normal circumstances I would be ridiculed for being the windbreaker but at this time I was revered. As usual I was not willing to be the only one to receive the credit as the windbreaker we decided to to share this important status. The final destination was a small town, perhaps soon to be ghost town, called Sierra Blanca. Yes, Sierra does mean uphill too. It also means Border Check Point, despite there being no border at all. Luckily as an exhausted cyclist we were rushed through without too much hassle.
Despite a one pound burger nestled in our stomachs our sleep was to be full of interuptions. First it was the trucks thundering past then it was the constant line of trains honking their way through town. Without much sleep we continued on through the mountain top basin. We were thankful that the day's ride did not require too much in the way of brain power. We were following an interstate frontage road almost all day. This meant almost non existent traffic along a well paved road. This was also the day I came up with the Law of Basin Winds for Cyclists. It states - "no matter which way the cyclist faces there is an equal and opposite wind force." Our windbreaking skills were futile, we just had to push on as best we could. Eventually stopped for refueling in a town called Van Horn, where there seems to be more hotels/motels than there are people. Our fuel of choice was called Chuy's Restaurant. I learnt that this place is frequented by a white haired, ex-footbal turned commentator called John Madden. After selecting the exact same meal the big man eats I was ready for a treat. However, instead I discovered a new 'D' word for this Texas delicacy and that is dull. Despite asking for hot, I got something a little more insipid. I've had cinnamon buns with more spice. After reading the menu I found the error of my way, apparently, Mr Madden phones ahead when he decides to visit. Thus, ensuring the freshest of home cooked meals, I think my meal was left over from when he was last here (or pehaps he had his tastebuds knocked out as a player).
Onward we punched through the wind to camp at Kent. I am not sure why this place deserved a name as for that night only it had a population of two. It seems as though everyone had decided to board up and leave. That night we were able to add two more 'D' words to texas - dirty and dehydrated. With no occupants the water supply had been turned off and toilet paper had begun to accumulate. Anxiously we set off the next morning with two bottles of water between us. Fortune smiled upon us as we stumbled upon an occupied ranch down the road who allowed us to replenish our almost non existent water supply. Fortune then decided to laugh at us also by peltering us with gale force winds. This lead me to my second Cyclist Wind Law - "a strong side wind can be just as bad as a headwind." We later learnt there were gusts of between 60-70 miles/hour! Even on downhills we had to pedal to maintain speed. Relief was obtained when we finally reached the McDonald Observatory. This was quite an interesting experience. After a hard ride though it was a little overwhelming for both of us, Alison falling asleep through a talk on sunspots.
That night we enjoyed a great stay at the Davis Mountains State Park. The facilities were great and we managed to wash away a few D's (dehydration and dull) with copious water and a great chicken fried steak. Actually it is the second best chicken fried steak, and only just, I have ever tasted. The first honour goes to Ma, now anyone should be happy with that comparison. With echoes of talks about sunspots and cosmic gases we fell asleep amongst the tranquil surrounds. The following day we lucked out with the weather and the road conditions. The wind had moved behind us (as it usually does for Alison) and the road was by far the best we had ridden on yet. We sped on in to the small town of Alpine for some much needed time off the saddle.
This section of the trip was also highlighted by a large number of meetings with other Southern Tier riders. Some were older (up to 73 years of age), some were going West and one was pulling a dog. It seems we all had the same ethic as the chicken trying to cross the road - and that is to get to the other side.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Tweedle Dee or Dum?
So here we were Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum about to embark on the next leg of our journey. Sometimes Alison was Dee, sometimes I was, then at other times we were both Dum(b). Having waited a couple of days at St Francis' Home for the weary traveller, the snow had subsided and we were no longer weary. With fresh legs we left the bike friendly town of Silver City and headed toward the Gila hot springs and cliff dwellings. The road was narrow but the traffic was almost non existent. The fresh snow was slowly melting amongst the pine trees. It was almost poetic except for the climb. Pinos Altos was the first destination. My Spanish is fairly poor but I know that to a cyclist any town with Altos in it means there will be an ascent. Over the course of the day we sweated our way through many swithcbacks up and down to 7,000 feet at least threet times. Our fresh legs had officially turned to jelly. Thankfully the final section was all descent as we rolled in to the Gila wilderness. Our muscles were allowed to finally relax in one of three hot springs. Nestled in the wilderness and relaxing in the warm water one could forget their worries. In an adjacent hot spring it seemed that a couples worries obviously involved clothing. I was a little cautious in losing my clothing layers as I had read that an amoeba called Naegleria fowleri could enter through the nasal passage and cause meningitis. Icould only imagine what it may do if I was not wearing pants.
Overnight we froze. The temperature got to 9F! I think our campfire kept us from officially freezing. Before a short ride to the Gila cliff dwelling we thawed out in the hot springs. The cliff dwellings and hot spirngs were great. It even made the extra 70 or so miles of this detour worth it. Before sunset we decided to ride out of the Gila wilderness area to a small town of Lake Roberts. Unfortunately the inverse of Newton's Law applies to cycling, that is what goes down must come up. The climb out was steep and the only reward would be a night in a hotel. We did not want to freeze again, particularly before our highest climb waited ahead of us.
We rested this time we began our ride toward Emory Pass. The Lake Roberts area afforded us some great riding. Again narrow roads but minimal traffic. We even got to cruise down hill for quite a while after we crossed the Continental Divide again, for the third and final time. The last few days through the wilderness had prepared us for the climb mentally. We broke the it down into sections and rested relatively frequently. Parts of this road had been an old railroad track so the gradient was not too difficult. We were eventually quite suprised to find ourselves at 8,228 feet at the top of the pass. A great sense of achievemnt had washed over us. This would be the highest point of the Southern Tier for us both, so we bathed in our excitement. Coming down on the East side was steep and winding but at least we didn't have to pedal. Alison heard a bang in her back tyre. We were still too far from El Paso for it to be a border patrol sniper and too far from Ciudad Juarez (Mexico) for it to be ablast from a drug smuggler. With no obvious problem we continued rolling down the hill. At the base we were rewarded with the best milkshake I have ever tasted in Hillsboro. It were as if a cow's udder had been removed, frozen over night, blended for us, malt added and served in a glass for our enjoyment.
We continued to roll onwards stopping for the evening in a small highway town (by highway town I mean right next to a highway) called Arrey. The cause of Alison's 'bang' became evident that afternoon. The rear light had displaced and managed to break a spoke. The result was a very wobbly wheel. At this stage still 50-60miles away from a bike shope we were a bit concerned. This is one of those moments that other peoples support and offerings of help becomes vital. The RV park that we were tenting at was prepared to drive us in to Las Cruces to have it fixed. At this time I must also correct Alison's previous blog. Our first act of generosity has been Alan of Moe's Bike Shop in North Bend, Oregon. Alan had done so much for us in preparation for this trip. He was our first point of call and once again he was able to walk us through this problem and settle our nerves. Loosening a few spokes opposite the broken one we were able to continue the following day in to Las Cruces. Special thanks must also go to the gentle gradient and tail wind that enabled us to navigate this section quicker than expected.
Tail to continue shortly....
Overnight we froze. The temperature got to 9F! I think our campfire kept us from officially freezing. Before a short ride to the Gila cliff dwelling we thawed out in the hot springs. The cliff dwellings and hot spirngs were great. It even made the extra 70 or so miles of this detour worth it. Before sunset we decided to ride out of the Gila wilderness area to a small town of Lake Roberts. Unfortunately the inverse of Newton's Law applies to cycling, that is what goes down must come up. The climb out was steep and the only reward would be a night in a hotel. We did not want to freeze again, particularly before our highest climb waited ahead of us.
We rested this time we began our ride toward Emory Pass. The Lake Roberts area afforded us some great riding. Again narrow roads but minimal traffic. We even got to cruise down hill for quite a while after we crossed the Continental Divide again, for the third and final time. The last few days through the wilderness had prepared us for the climb mentally. We broke the it down into sections and rested relatively frequently. Parts of this road had been an old railroad track so the gradient was not too difficult. We were eventually quite suprised to find ourselves at 8,228 feet at the top of the pass. A great sense of achievemnt had washed over us. This would be the highest point of the Southern Tier for us both, so we bathed in our excitement. Coming down on the East side was steep and winding but at least we didn't have to pedal. Alison heard a bang in her back tyre. We were still too far from El Paso for it to be a border patrol sniper and too far from Ciudad Juarez (Mexico) for it to be ablast from a drug smuggler. With no obvious problem we continued rolling down the hill. At the base we were rewarded with the best milkshake I have ever tasted in Hillsboro. It were as if a cow's udder had been removed, frozen over night, blended for us, malt added and served in a glass for our enjoyment.
We continued to roll onwards stopping for the evening in a small highway town (by highway town I mean right next to a highway) called Arrey. The cause of Alison's 'bang' became evident that afternoon. The rear light had displaced and managed to break a spoke. The result was a very wobbly wheel. At this stage still 50-60miles away from a bike shope we were a bit concerned. This is one of those moments that other peoples support and offerings of help becomes vital. The RV park that we were tenting at was prepared to drive us in to Las Cruces to have it fixed. At this time I must also correct Alison's previous blog. Our first act of generosity has been Alan of Moe's Bike Shop in North Bend, Oregon. Alan had done so much for us in preparation for this trip. He was our first point of call and once again he was able to walk us through this problem and settle our nerves. Loosening a few spokes opposite the broken one we were able to continue the following day in to Las Cruces. Special thanks must also go to the gentle gradient and tail wind that enabled us to navigate this section quicker than expected.
Tail to continue shortly....
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