2010 New Mexico Trip Part 1
Thursday 26 August 2010
I seem unable to get the airplane onto the ground. Finally, after it does touch down, I'm told by tower to make a right turn at the end to exit. "Speed permitting" I quip, then curse as I am too fast to turn and roll off the end of the pavement. In the ensuing chaos I seem to have lost my uniform and am in shorts and t-shirt and Captain's hat directing the emergency vehicles. Then I wake up with a headache and wonder what's up with that.
It's 0600 and 45 degrees or so. My sleeping bag is doing just fine this trip. On previous excursions it has fallen short somewhere around 0200 and 40 degrees, and I've wound up wearing nearly as much as when riding. A t-shirt, shorts, tube socks, and (of course) my fleece hat seem to do the trick until the nocturnal temperature nadir, when simply stuffing a fleece jacket down into the voids of the bag seems to work. I did take precautions and set up my stove/food at a distance from the tent, so to make coffee I had to get dressed and then drag it all back over. No problem. Again, not having to match speeds with someone else made it a low stress event. While I pack school buses begin to kick up dust along the NF road. Back in the saddle I'm heading for Coyote NM eastbound on NM96, and about to cross the point of no return. Here in the DFW MetroMess you never really have an excuse to run out of gas - virtually every exit has several choices. Along NM roadways, however, with a motorcycle's range, you can reach a point where there'd better be gas available in the next town - or your adventure level will increase as you begin looking for a good Samaritan. When I arrive at THE store there are two pumps (good) and one pickup already waiting (not good). There are also several high school aged boys milling about, and one old rancher of indeterminate age and heritage. Native American? Mexican? We do a little awkward dance, and then sit in mostly silent prayer lifting up the safety, health, and work ethic of the store owner. To no avail. Should be open by 0730, so by 0845 the old rancher acknowledges with a slight grin - 'I guess no store today', and we all look for alternate gas. My next option is Abiquiu further east, and it is a delight. Though there is a modern gas plaza display of pumps out front, there are also fresh produce stands and a homemade ice cream (bags of rock salt will testify) store. Inside Bode's Store are selections of hardware, gifts, sporting goods (fishing), grocery items, video, and a deli/grill maned (oops, let's say 'run' by women next time, shall we?) by a couple of ladies who look like they found their niche after nearly a lifetime of looking. Breakfast burritos are being wrapped and displayed (no questions about whether or which chili you'd like - it'll be red because it's good, it's good for you, and that's the only way we make 'em here). The cork board advertisements are like an Indian Totem - part history, part news, part want-ads, and the banter is quick and friendly - "You know, Jess, I can't complain about the service here - THERE AIN'T ANY! HAR!
From Abiquiu I head north on NM84 to Chama. This road has some of the most arresting rock formations and colors in the state, including a huge natural amphitheatre. As always, the process of 'did you get a picture?' is more complex traveling solo on a bike at 65 (ahem) mph. Looking along the road something catches your eye. 1/4mile later you realize it was photo worthy, 1/4mile more and you decide you probably should take a photo, then you have to clear for a U-turn and go back and find the item/view you saw AND a safe place to pull off and take the snap. Then it's imperative to clear again for another U-turn back onto the highway. I haven't taken a photo yet worth getting hit by a car for - but I'm not a very good photographer.
I've been to Chama before, and know there's a good RV campsite on the north end of town, which allows me to enjoy the adverts and teasers along the way for what they are. I offer up 16$ and leave tent and baggage (except for tank bags which have survival stuff (jumper cables, tire products, water and food)) then head west on NM64 to Dulce and the Jicarilla Nation. Again, there's a wiggly line on the map that bears further exploration. On the west side of town is the Narrow Gauge Scenic Roadway, which once paralleled the NG Scenic Railroad. It's not a bad dirt road, but it is made up of that uber fine powder that, when wet, turns into the slickest lubricant known to man (Andy Granatelli actually stole the whole 'screwdriver in a can of STP' thing after watching a biker try to ride knobbies thru an 8' long puddle of the stuff), and there are numerous places where the road has been over run by small streams or run-off from yesterday afternoon's rains. Luckily about the time I'm beginning to consider the merits of going forward or turning about, the road goes to gravel and I can focus on the other question: where am I?
Maps/GPS sometimes do not reflect actual road location or condition.
I think I'll have that on my tombstone.
I seem unable to get the airplane onto the ground. Finally, after it does touch down, I'm told by tower to make a right turn at the end to exit. "Speed permitting" I quip, then curse as I am too fast to turn and roll off the end of the pavement. In the ensuing chaos I seem to have lost my uniform and am in shorts and t-shirt and Captain's hat directing the emergency vehicles. Then I wake up with a headache and wonder what's up with that.
It's 0600 and 45 degrees or so. My sleeping bag is doing just fine this trip. On previous excursions it has fallen short somewhere around 0200 and 40 degrees, and I've wound up wearing nearly as much as when riding. A t-shirt, shorts, tube socks, and (of course) my fleece hat seem to do the trick until the nocturnal temperature nadir, when simply stuffing a fleece jacket down into the voids of the bag seems to work. I did take precautions and set up my stove/food at a distance from the tent, so to make coffee I had to get dressed and then drag it all back over. No problem. Again, not having to match speeds with someone else made it a low stress event. While I pack school buses begin to kick up dust along the NF road. Back in the saddle I'm heading for Coyote NM eastbound on NM96, and about to cross the point of no return. Here in the DFW MetroMess you never really have an excuse to run out of gas - virtually every exit has several choices. Along NM roadways, however, with a motorcycle's range, you can reach a point where there'd better be gas available in the next town - or your adventure level will increase as you begin looking for a good Samaritan. When I arrive at THE store there are two pumps (good) and one pickup already waiting (not good). There are also several high school aged boys milling about, and one old rancher of indeterminate age and heritage. Native American? Mexican? We do a little awkward dance, and then sit in mostly silent prayer lifting up the safety, health, and work ethic of the store owner. To no avail. Should be open by 0730, so by 0845 the old rancher acknowledges with a slight grin - 'I guess no store today', and we all look for alternate gas. My next option is Abiquiu further east, and it is a delight. Though there is a modern gas plaza display of pumps out front, there are also fresh produce stands and a homemade ice cream (bags of rock salt will testify) store. Inside Bode's Store are selections of hardware, gifts, sporting goods (fishing), grocery items, video, and a deli/grill maned (oops, let's say 'run' by women next time, shall we?) by a couple of ladies who look like they found their niche after nearly a lifetime of looking. Breakfast burritos are being wrapped and displayed (no questions about whether or which chili you'd like - it'll be red because it's good, it's good for you, and that's the only way we make 'em here). The cork board advertisements are like an Indian Totem - part history, part news, part want-ads, and the banter is quick and friendly - "You know, Jess, I can't complain about the service here - THERE AIN'T ANY! HAR!
From Abiquiu I head north on NM84 to Chama. This road has some of the most arresting rock formations and colors in the state, including a huge natural amphitheatre. As always, the process of 'did you get a picture?' is more complex traveling solo on a bike at 65 (ahem) mph. Looking along the road something catches your eye. 1/4mile later you realize it was photo worthy, 1/4mile more and you decide you probably should take a photo, then you have to clear for a U-turn and go back and find the item/view you saw AND a safe place to pull off and take the snap. Then it's imperative to clear again for another U-turn back onto the highway. I haven't taken a photo yet worth getting hit by a car for - but I'm not a very good photographer.
I've been to Chama before, and know there's a good RV campsite on the north end of town, which allows me to enjoy the adverts and teasers along the way for what they are. I offer up 16$ and leave tent and baggage (except for tank bags which have survival stuff (jumper cables, tire products, water and food)) then head west on NM64 to Dulce and the Jicarilla Nation. Again, there's a wiggly line on the map that bears further exploration. On the west side of town is the Narrow Gauge Scenic Roadway, which once paralleled the NG Scenic Railroad. It's not a bad dirt road, but it is made up of that uber fine powder that, when wet, turns into the slickest lubricant known to man (Andy Granatelli actually stole the whole 'screwdriver in a can of STP' thing after watching a biker try to ride knobbies thru an 8' long puddle of the stuff), and there are numerous places where the road has been over run by small streams or run-off from yesterday afternoon's rains. Luckily about the time I'm beginning to consider the merits of going forward or turning about, the road goes to gravel and I can focus on the other question: where am I?
Maps/GPS sometimes do not reflect actual road location or condition.I think I'll have that on my tombstone.
Eventually I hook up onto CR500 which takes me into Colorado and Pagosa Springs where I rejoin 84 south to Chama for a reward of Alien Ale and Pizza. While out collecting my prizes I take time to enojoy the Cumberland and Toltec Scenic Railroad station in town. In the evening light the old machines speak of years of service and hint of the ghosts of men who built, maintained and ran them.
It's been a long day,
and a good one.
posted by Randy Masters at 6:37 AM
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