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.
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