6/19/04
The trip began with a short drive to the Chiricahua Mountiains in eastern Arizona. Doug Kelly was gracious enough to give us a ride. In the end he really went out of his way to help us start out this adventure.
We drove a short was up Cave Creek canyon and found a nice spot off the side of the road to camp. I have visited the west side of the Chiricahuas, but never the east. Supposedly the “Yosemite” of Arizona, it did not dissapoint with plenty of cliffs, caves and other beautiful rocks. We went for a short hike up the south canyon trail. Dozens of different trees fill the canyon to the bursting point, and the creek was still water (it’s June in Arizona!). There were small fish in the creek too.
Doug cooked us up some tasty Pesto pasta which we ate until we could not breathe–we will need all the calories we can get for the upcoming days (and especially tomorrow). We slept early.
6/20/04
We awoke just as the sun was barely lighting the sky-4:15 or so. We were attempting an early start, but early would have been more like 2:15 or so. Before we reached Antelope Wells it was 9am and the sun was shining bright. I was worried and anxious to get going, so we rolled across the border, took some quick photos then headed north.
New Mexico 81, ‘the lonely road’, was a nice ride…. for a while. It really was an enjoyable road ride, but I tired of pavement after a few hours. The scenery was surpisingly nice, given others’ description of the area. But most ride the GDMBR north to south, so by the time they reach here it must seem quite bleak. Big Hachet Mountain (8700 feet) towers over the valley floor. At first we could see it in the distance to the north, then we passed it through Hachet gap, and for the rest of the ride (while we had daylight, that is) we watched it get smaller and smaller.
“Dip Courtesy Pays” — road sign along the lonely highway.
At mile #1 of the ride we met face to face with our invincible enemy: the wind. It blew from the northwest throughout the day…. and unfortunately we were heading north. Any time we turned west it was impossible to keep rolling about 7 mph. It was, I’d say, a constant 15-20 mph, gusting to 30. It was tolerable through Hachita and to Interstate 10. But before I-10 Paula lost the will to fight against it and slowed down. This was fine.. it had been 5 hours of battle and it was getting old.
Unfortunately from there we turned west along the dirt frontage road, which meant we were riding straight into the wind. Despite losing a few hundred feet ofr 7 miles, our travel time was about an hour. We stopped and rested under a freeway underpass (the only shade) and found wild gords (squashes) of some kind. This was pretty cool–they were fist sized but far to sweet to eat.
In Separ we met Doug, who had been waiting for about an hour. On his way back to Tucson he had dropped our stuff in Silver City, meaning we could push through this 125 miles of low deserts and hot temps in one day. Without his help we would have been dry camping at 4000 feet in June.
Instead we fought endless winds, laying seige to the hills towards Silver City. We traveled northeast first out of Separ and were amazed how easy it was to climb–15 mph with little effort. This little gem of a section lasted all of 15 minutes. From there we once again turned west, this time riding right along the Continental Divide on an open ridge. The wind was worse here than before and it successfully brought us to our knees. The only thing we could do was ride 10 minutes then stop and take a break. It was that kind of wind–the kind you just cannot stand to fight continously against. It didn’t help that we had 90 miles of wind battling behind us that day either.
I looked off the ridge to the north and noticed a large white animal galloping across the plain. It was a beautiful wild horse who seemed to be following us. He would run, then stop for us to catch up (remember we are riding about 5 mph, climbing uphill into the wind). It was pretty cool. A while later a few deer were crossing and we watched them leap with skill over 4 foot rach fences. Very cool.
Our northwest section along the divide seemed to very end. This time it took us nearly 2 hours to travel 7 miles. No matter how you dice that one up, that’s not good time. But at last the road turned to the NORTH and now we were only fighting a headwind. We dropped into a canyon (finally) and were nearly out of the wind. I could hear myself think again.
It was not long before we reached NM 90 for the final 18 miles to Silver City. We were hammered, it was still windy and it was nearly dark. Fight, fight, fight… the rollers made for slow progress as the sunlight disappeared from the horizon. The shoulder was wide and we had blinky’s so we were safe–just dying to be done for the day.
A 300 foot climb out of the mine resulted in a blissful 5 miles of coasting. But we were still miles from Silver City. The lights twinkled far away but grew closer with each agonizing pedal stroke. About 3 miles from town Paula’s handlebar bag (which was bungeed to her rear rack) fell off, shooting the bungee cord into oblivion. I made a vain attempt to find it, riding a while back on the road, but it was gone.
Even Silver City itself had a few hills left for us–but at least it wasn’t windy. Our motel–Copper Mannor, was on the other side of town.
Before we could access our room phone it was 10:08 — 8 minutes ago every eating establishment in town was closed (we called all the usual suspects–taco bell, wendy’s, etc). 8 minutes!
6/21
An early start was not to be after yesterday’s deathmarch. But we were up around 6am to walk over to Mickey D for some grease and grits. 2000 calories later, we walked out feeling refreshed. We didn’t know if we’d be riding AT ALL today, but it seemed like the thing to do.
So we loaded everything up and were on the road before 9am. The rollers out of Silver City were tough, and our good friend the NorthWest Wind was still in force. At least we were going North East this time! Ha!
There was a pullout to grab a view of a huge open pit mine (I’m assuming it’s Silver). A mountainside is gone, but at least the impact is all in one place.
At last we turned onto a nice dirt road–Georgetown RD. I was beginning to think this tour was going to be mostly pavement. It was great to find some steep climbs, a few large rocks and some great views. Cedar trees were abundant which means when we stopped it could be in the shade. I actually felt like we were mountain biking.
A nice descent lead us to the town of Mimbres and the rich river valley (more trees!). Bad news though–the only cafe was in the wrong direction (2 miles or so). It was well worth it though, the place filled us to the bursting point with quality Mexican food. It was a real treat to get such a nice meal before heading out into the wilderness.
We still don’t know how far we will make it today–but we’ll head to the Ranger Station (about 8 miles) to hopefully nap in the shade, waiting out the burning afternoon sun. We’re only at 6200, which is great (Tucson is 2500), but it’s still not exactly ‘cool’ in the afternoon.
Mimbres Ranger Station — Wilderness Ranger District. We found a nice picnic table to lie on, but there was one small problem: they were clearing the parking lot with a ridiculously loud machine. And to top it off all the dust was blowing right on us. We waitied to see if he was almost done, but no it went on for a half hour.
Then as they were leaving (the other trucks doing asphalt work) he turned on and off the machine at least 5 times for who knows what reason. It was just unbelievably poor timing. I kept moving the bikes around to keep them from a thick coating of dust.
Now, we need to see where to head next and how Paula is feeling.
We rolled out and turned right to climb through the Gila Forest. This forest road, “the Germino trail” snakes between a narrow corridor between two wilderness areas. We climbed, facing our first real challenge on the loaded bikes. Our legs were drained, but we finally felt like we were mountain biking. My upper body was strained trying to control my train wreck of a bike (+bob), keeping it on the steep road.
We climbed up to the continental divide then rode along it for a few miles, finally diving off into a very nice side canyon. Here we found our first ponderosa pines… which were especially nice knowing that we hard worked hard (climbed) to get to them. The granny gear climbing continued on roads that motivate me to dig my feet into my pedals and feel the rush of burning around the corners. But we were both tired so about halfway up the climb above Rocky Canyon we saw a tempting dispersed campsite… Paula thought she could ride further, but when we hit the next steep pitch we both happily glided back to the site to dry camp (we had about 2 gallons or so).
It was a superb spot. We tied our food in the trees and watched an awesome sunset.
6/22
The next morning saw more awesome challenge. Up and down into deep canyons on endlessly switchbacking roads. At the crest of the next canyon you could stare at both: the canyon you just conquered and the one that lies ahead. We did not see anyone on this road until about 1pm (no one yesterday either). Maybe this is the real lonely road.
The highest of the high mountains was a very nice area. Deep forests of pines, the CDT footpath trail head and signs warning of Wolves. Mason flat proved to be a beautiful meadow where we relaxed for a few minutes.
The sun scorched on the climb out of Black Canyon (which had a nice flow, but we had plenty). Motivation would wax and wane among various parts of the day. But it was a difficult day and progress (in terms of mileage) was slow.
The climb out of Diamond Creek (where the FS had to remove a belligerent’s cattle this year) was loose enough that I lost my line a few times with the Bob. You really have to be careful on side-sloping roads… once you lose the line it is difficult to regain. I was happy to be challenged, but also anxious to make some progress towards Canada, which seems so far away.
We descended into the endless sea of ‘private property’ and ‘no trespassing’ signs that haunt the area around Wall Lake. It’s almost like the owners are hiding something here… Although the trees abound, it’s a desert out here and this nice lake seems like an oasis. But it’s off limits to everything!
We stopped to admire the lake and enjoy a break. We were on the road side of the fence and minding our own business. We had not been sitting there 5 minutes when a green car approached on the road and we had the pleasure of meeting a woman who was, how to put it delicately, well te word rhymes with witch. She had seen us ride by and saw it fit to get in her car, bounce down the washboarded road then open her door and hollar at us without even getting out. I heard something like “…Oh you’re just sitting there! … A lot of people think you can camp here, but you can’t!” “Uh, yes, we saw the signs” … Then she drove up the road a bit, driving back later to make sure we were still there and not, presumably, in the lake.
We climbed again away from the lake then met with our old friend the NW headwind in a flowing valley that lead to the beaverhead work center. We could see dark clouds around and were unwilling to fight the strong headwind, so we decided to stop and camp there. The FS employees were nice enough, but not overly hospitable nor interested. We relaxed, organized our stuff and played with the various dogs wandering around the place including one completely out of control puppy. He wanted to bite and chew all of our stuff. Apparently the FS employees had got drinking
We asked many of the FS guys if they had seen any cyclists doing the GDBMR. Most of them, to our surprise, responded that they had, then proceeded to tell us about motorcyclits and ATV riders that had done a single day ride along some of the roads. I was baffled that they did not understand what we were talking about or that had nothing to do with cycling the divide. It was not until we were about to go to sleep that we met a very interesting FS guy: the head of the trails crew. An avid backpacker he immediately told us they had a group of riders doing the divide come by 7 days ago (before the hitch he just finished). He was very kind, giving us information on the upcoming roads and wishing us luck. He said he always sees the riders coming through and wonders if he should be doing it one summer instead of working. I think so.
Watching the FS guys was entertaining. Although the complex is the size of a tiny city block most of them see it fit to drive everywhere they go. One guy would literally jump on his ATV to ride 200 feet only to shut it off (usually leave it idling often too). Others drove their trucks from the office to their houses. It was quite amazing. Why not walk instead of making noise, dust and wasting tax money? Typical forest service though. It reminded me of the North Fork office in Idaho: big fire guys walking around like they are the toughest toughies in the world. Pretty amusing, though they are all nice folks.
Another odd thing was that I often asked them about the fire season and if the recent storms (today) had set off any smokes. Two of them responded that it had been a terrible fire season… which through further conversation I realized meant that they had very few fires to fight (just a few they let burn and some prescibed stuff). Interesting viewpoint, though I can understand getting of sick of idling and waiting for action.
Surpisingly it did quiet down and we slept well. Now it is time to make some headway.
6/23
We left early from beaverhead, but immediately I noticed a sharp pain on my right hamstring. I had slept funny on it, so it foruntaely wasn’t a overuse problem. But it still hurt like crazy.
We cruised up a nice valley, with pines, rolling hills and occasional steep cliffs. It was just a perfect morning. Over the next 60 miles we were passed by one car: a UPS driver who suceeded in dusting us, barely slowing down.
The best part of the entire day came after crossing the divide and rolling down La Jolla canyon: RAIN! For a Tucsonan who has not seen a drop for months, this was heaven. It was just getting hot, too, so it felt perfect. As we cruised down through trees we were pleasantly soaked. Just enough that I almost thought about pulling out the rain gear, but in shorts it felt refreshing. It’s funny how something like that can make your day. I had not expected any rain for at least another week or so (maybe colorado?). What a treat, but I did hope that our camps wouldn’t get rained, or that the roads wouldn’t get hammered.
Out of La Jolla canyon we saw the breadth of the St. Augustine plains. With swirling clouds it was an impressive view. Our sweet desert clouds followed us through the plains and to State Highway 12 where we took a break after 60 miles.
The sun peeked, but we found a bit of shade to cook some easy mac and kick back. Then another climb began–Paula rode awesome having only two days of tough riding (but shorter) to recover from the 125 ride of death. We climbed with ease (though we climbed more the riding was much easier than the ups and downs of Rocky, Black and Diamond canyon areas). We found Valle Tio Vinces Campground empty and quite enticing. The only problem was water: the spring was not running, but had some water deep inside it. There was a pond for cattle down the road that I initially thought would be better than the spring. After some pumping and seeing green water come out we went back to the spring.
At 8150 feet this was our highest camp yet and perhaps our best. Huge trees made easy food hanging and we got only a single car driving down from the Mangas Lookout tower (I assume it was the lookout, driving switching with another employee).
Great progress today (70 miles) but Scott’s hamstring and Paula’s quads screamed for respite throughout.
Lot’s of wildlife today: 4 elk, 10 deer, 1 turkey, bunnies
6/24
We left early from Valle Tio Vinces, climbing up to our highest point yet–the divide at roughly 8350 feet. We coasted out of the Mangas mountains into a supposed river valley full of small ranches and old rock-slab buildings. Another divide crossing later (and some slow climbing) gave us a straight shot towards pie town on high roller road. We were going down the rollers so shifting to big ring and hammering would keep momentum up to crest the next hill. It was a blast.
In Pie Town we ate at the Daily Pie Cafe which was a little slice of heaven. After a number of days camping this food was solid gold. Fries, chicken sandwich… then a kid walked in and ordered a chocolate milkshake. “Did he just say what I think he said?” I asked. A milkshake was soon on our table and being hastily slurped into me.
The owner, Mike, was a super nice guy. He told us about hungry divide hikers and bikers who are built like beanpoles (like us) but will sit and eat steak dinner after steak dinner. He said he loves it how owning a Cafe in Pie Town allows him to meet people from all over the world even though his town is only 50 people. He was happy to help out (filling our water jug) and very interested in how our trip had gone so far.
The sweet desert clouds floated back in as we ate lunch. So we loaded up and continued north—into a hellacious headwind. 2 miles later I felt the wind change. Now we cruised downhill at 22 mph with the wind nipping our tails. Wow. Then, still silence.
The road turned into sand. It was actually quite fun to manuever my rig through it… a new kind of challenge. But it did get old after about 30 miles. After we passed Wild Horse Ranch (one of those fab new complexes doling out land for people to build “ranches” on), the road turned to gravel and, well, crap. Washboard city, I say. And drivers who refuse to slow down or even acknowledge us. We ended up not pleased with the residents of Wild Horse Ranch.
On the state highway (paved) for 2.5 miles we were happy to not be riding through the narrows and the east side of El Malpais park. This road was bad enough for 2.5 miles, let alone 30. We witnessed 2 very near accidents within the 10 minutes we were on the road. The drivers were out of control, passing like mad and there was no shoulder.
We turned right onto the “Chain of Craters” backcoutry byway and the sand continued. But the road was empty… until we came upon a large group of cattle near a running RV. As Paula rode by they all decided to kick it up and stampede: into me! Riding with a Bob does not improve one’s rate of acceleration, but I was barely able to make it out of the way before the cattle crushed me. It was quite close.
Throughout the sandy road we noticed bike tire marks cutting across the middle of the road, always in sandy sections. Either the road was more sandy when those riders passed through or they simply stink, because we had no problem in most of the sections where they did. I wonder how far ahead this group is?
We rolled into our 70th mile making this our longest ride with the loads. Paula just kept going and going, amazingly. The road was soft, but quite challenging with the sand and lava rocks.
To our right was the Malpais wilderness area–a vast land of lava flows–the so called Bad Lands. It made for some pleasant evening cycling. We stopped about a half hour before dark with 84 miles and hastily set up a dry camp between ant hills and juniper trees. We would not stay here long, but it was nice enough.
6/25
From our El Malpais camp, which seemed the middle of nowhere we heard the distant sound of music: someone was practicing a saxophone or some other instrument. Very odd, but it seemed to fit the landscape.
We continued paralleling the wilderness and watching bike tires cut across deep sand sections. We gradually climbed near 8000 feet and then hit some high elevation lava fields. We explored around a bit, marveling at it all. Still no one on the road.
Near highway 53 I saw an oddly shaped and tree-less ridge above, but I couldn’t make out exactly what it was due to the sun in my eyes. We turned on the state road, deciding to visit our first “off route” attraction: the Bandera Volcano Crater and Ice Cave. 2 miles later we were at the trading post talking to the friendly owner. We hid our bikes a bit, paid the $8 fee and went off hiking up the trail to the crater. (Yes I asked if bikes were allowed on the trail–they aren’t).
It was great to do something other than ride, and the crater was impressive. This was the tree-less ridge that I was squinting at only a half hour earlier. A huge crater that finally broke on one side, flowing lava out into the valley below.
We found a trail that looped down to the Ice Cave trail, the descended into the cave. Near the opening you could feel the temperature drop dramatically. The ice was quite amazing–that it stays all year and grows with each passing winter. What an odd effect and definitely worth the extra pedaling to see.
At the trading post we ate a burrito and other snack foods (ah more food we aren’t carrying!) then headed back on 53 towards the national forest land. As we climbed the dirt road we saw signs for “extreme fire danger”… then over the other side noticed signs (going the other way) saying “area closed, no public entry”.
Yet, in that area we saw two kids riding an ATV and at least 2 other cars (including one that said “Fire Prevention” on it–that guy just waved as we rode by). But I was still a bit uneasy. Soon it was pretty clear that this road was open, but all side roads and trails were closed. But I wasn’t so sure about the top part we had rode through.
We cruised a very long downhill from 8200′ to 6500′ and Grants. The road was an old railroad grade, wide and dusty. Several cars amazed us with their consideration — not slowing at all as they passed leaving us dust-blind and forced to slow down until it cleared. I don’t understand why it is so difficult to understand that a cyclist might not want to get covered in a cloud of dust. Is it too much to ask for people to slow down and show a little respect? It also is hardly safe–passing bikers with full loads on narrow dusty roads at 55 mph. Fortunately there were few cars, and a few respectful ones (the FS were always very kind in slowing down).
Near the bottom we stopped to use the facilities. Paula set her bike down and walked down off the road. As I waited a Jeep Cherokee came flying (60 mph at least) down the dirt towards me. It did not slow down. I winced at it as it passed, then turned to avoid the dust. The Jeep slammed on its brakes and skidded to a stop. The driver, a woman, got out and yelled, “Is there a problem?”
“No, you were just driving too fast” … something inaudible, then she hopped in and spun out her wheels accelerating back up to top speed.
I have had more than a few motorists stop and give that exact phrase “Is there a problem?” when they notice that I was unhappy with thier driving skills or ettiquite. Sometimes I just thrown up my arms, shrug my shoulders or whatever. This time I just winced and shook my head.
But this one was confusing. A few minutes later down the road I wondered if she wasn’t being aggressive, but was seeing if we were ok. Though “Is there a problem?” is not the wording I would use for that. I mean, she was a woman, alone.. what was she going to do, kick the crap out of us?
Things got more strange as we rolled into the outskirts of Grants. A sheriff’s car was driving the other way and upon seeing us, turned on his lights. “Oh great” I thought, wondering if we had violated some NF closure. He rolled down his window and I heard him saying on the radio, “I’ve made contact dispatch.” Great, they were looking for us.
He got out and asked us if anyone had stopped us up there. I replied that we hadn’t been stopped. “A woman didn’t stop you?” I explained to him what had happened, and that we thought she was being aggressive, not helpful. I guess she had phoned us in on her cell phone and the sheriff’s dept had gone to check on us. He asked us about our trip, the city of Tucson and other stuff. He was a very nice guy. He said they had a few (3 I think) GDMBR riders come through town just yesterday. We may see our first cyclists of the trip.
First, to business. We found a cheap motel (that was surprisingly nice) on ‘historic route 66’ — wow. Our first shower in 4 days felt great.
A call to the Mt. Taylor district office revealed that we would be allowed to ride through the closed National Forest *if* we had written permission from the Ranger. The problem: they are closed tomorrow and at 5pm today. We had two hours to get there, which was just about enough time considering the powerful monsoon storm raging through town. We rode towards Lobo Canyon, bracing ourselves against a roaring side wind. I left Paula at “Taco Village” for food and continued the 2 miles or so to the Ranger Office. The written permission was a mere formality–they were handing them out left and right apparently. And the secretary didn’t even tell me about fire restrictions or anything (I had to ask her if stoves were ok–and they were, but not white gas). So I am not sure what the point of braving 3 miles of monsoon winds to get the silly piece of paper was. But I suppose it was worth the piece of mind we’ll have once we pass the “Road closed” and such signs.
I noticed in the permission book that a group of CDT hikers is slightly ahead of us. I hope to see them out on FR 239 tomorrow. It will take them almost a week to get through the area we’ll grunt through in a day. They are much tougher than us.
Tomorrow we head into the high country of Mt. Taylor (11,200 feet), all through closed National Forests. With any luck we’ll be in Cuba by the next day. Then, Colorado will be within our grasp.
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