May 12, 2000 to May 21, 2000
Los Cruces to Albuquerque, 2000
Another old hand written journal! And likely the last of them, and certainly the last of this collection. This was the final solo trip to the Southwest that I took, and at this point it’s unlikely there’ll be another.
For the most part the journal and the surviving photographs speak for themselves but I’ll add a few comments for context. One thing to note is how much I was surprised by in rereading the account. It was a much richer experience than the one that’s stuck with me, and until matching up the narrative and the photographs I want really sure which way I’d gone on this tour. I was particularly uncertain about how the tour ended up when I turned east from northeast Arizona. I had conflicting memories that didn’t add up - I thought I remembered riding an unpaved stretch of Route 66 and biking up into the Hopi and Apache reservations - in fact I have proof of this back in storage, because I picked up a pair of ceramics to bring home with me as souvenirs of the trip.
It wasn’t until I puzzled over the photographs though and searched for natural bridges in this part of New Mexico that I realized that I turned northeast after Quamado to bike past El Malpais Natural Monument; and after that it was clear that I must have stayed overnight in Grant one night and Los Lunas the next.
And one other point, about the camera. I think this is probably the first tour that I carried a digital camera, and from the quality of the relatively few photographs I came back with and the wide angle some of them showed I suspect I was carrying my first Lumix LX-10.
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Friday, May 12 : Arrival
As often happens, this trip got off to a frenetic and bizarre beginning. Most importantly, the route itself was only settled the night before the trip started. The original plan, in the works for months, was to bike from Durango to Albuquerque via Taos and Los Alamos. That plan became impossible due to the terrible, out of control fire at Los Alamos, so a new plan was created virtually on the fly. If you can’t be flexible you shouldn’t travel, but this is pushing the limits.
Work was the usual madness, made worse by adjusting to the last minute change of plans. I was at work until one in the morning working on a system abend and spent a hectic hour in the morning following up on the situation with my coworkers.
The flight from Portland through Denver and Albuquerque was uneventful,except that my bike arrived in disarray. The box looked like it had been through a shredder and was hopeless for the final leg. The airlines gave me a $100 credit for a new box for the final leg, a Mesa Airlines flight in a tiny Beechcraft. In the end though the box was unnecessary. There was abundant storage on the plane, and only four passengers so the bike was just loaded in au natural.
I had a great stroke of luck boarding the flight when the woman standing next to me in line offered to help carry on my luggage and then chatte with me all the way to our destination, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the engines. Once we arrived at the airport she and her sister drove me ten miles into town, with my bike hanging partway out of their trunk while I sat in the back holding the front wheel, petting their lab Cindemnand enjoying the banter in the front seat.
This was really fortunate, as otherwise I faced a choice of either biking ten miles on the interstate in the dark or sleeping on the ground near the airport. As it turned out though I nearly slept outdoors anyway. Los Cruces has many motels, but the first three I called at were all fully booked and said the entire town was because it was both Mother’s Day and graduation weekend. I was greatly relieved to finally find a bottom of the scale place with $22 rooms, afte I’d already given up and wa just wandering around looking for a place to get a beer to help me sleep through a bad night in the park.
Saturday, May 13: Los Cruces to Hillsboro (89 miles, 3,300’)
I awoke about seven to cloudless skies and immediately set out to find breakfast. I soon found a nearby diner, open and crowded with cowboy hats. The air was filled with derisive talks about Clinton and appreciative comments about how boldly the NRA had stood up to him. I’m a long ways from western Oregon down here.
My route started with a 35 mile leg north along the Rio Grande to Hatch, and then west to Nutt (home of the Middle of Nowhere Bar and not much else), and then north to Hillsboro.
The stretch along the Arizona grande was very pretty, and by far the greenest part of the day. A green ribbon a quarter of a mile wide borders the river, filled largely with pecan orchards. This was a great stretch for birds, and I added six news species to my life list here today, most memorably a roadrunner.
- At Hatch I filled up at the store, had a grape and milk picnic, and then turned west away from the river and into the desert. The road gained elevation gradually, but other than when fighting the wind the cycling was not difficult. The wind was an often changing factor though. I had some long stretches into a fairly strong headwind but rhabkfully got a nice boost up the last twenty miles when I needed it the most. It was a long day under the hot sun and at the end I needed the assistance.
A few notable items from the ride:
- I chatted briefly with a cyclist going the other way, a man in either his 50’s or 60’s on his way to Massachusetts.
- I stopped for a beer in the tavern at Nutt, an amazingly isolated place. I asked the owner how he had ended up here in such an end-of-the-world spot. “Because it was for sale”. End of conversation.
- The final thirty miles north through the high desert were one of the loneliest roads I have ever cycled. Only two cars passed me going my direction the entire time.
- I have a slow leak, and rather than repairing it on the road under the blazing sun I decided to stop about every two miles to pump it up again. Unfortunately I think my pump is falling apart, and I have no backup plan.
- I stayed the night at the Bar X Tavern and Motel, a place that offered a nice room and a lively bar scene. After my badly needed shower I crashed for an hour and then went next door and entered a vey surprising restaurant- rather elegant, and with a menu of the day featuring choices like I might have found in the Arbor Cafe back in Salem. I filled up with a Caesar salad and lasagna with spinache and mushrooms. The owner is a Hillsboro native, having returned home after a long stay in California. She has a lot of courage, opening up an establishment. Like this here. She had to educate the diners at the next table on what to do with the oil and vinegar.
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Sunday, May 14: Hillsboro to Silver City (57 miles, 6,100’)
Given its rather short length this was a surprisingly hard ride. I arrived in Silver City hot, tired, and somewhat discouraged. It wasn’t until in the evening that I traced it back to the beginning: for the first time in recent memory I began the day without coffee. The only restaurant in Hillsboro didn’t open until nine and I didn’t think it would be smart to wait until then to start riding on a day that promised to be windy and with a high of 90 degrees, so I bit the bullet and got an early start. I don’t know when I left the motel but it must have been well before seven with the sun barely over the horizon. As I began riding I was awakened by a delightful chorus of birdsong. Shortly after leaving town I startled two cottontail rabbits o way from the road, and soon after that a jackrabbit.
The first eight miles or so rose gradually before I finally began climbing in earnest for another eight, to the summit of Emory Pass at 8,500’. It was a stiff but not terrible climb and came thankfully with regular shelter from the sun, but by the top I felt well spent. From this I concluded that a Powerbar, a few handfuls of goop and no coffee are an insufficient beginning for a day climbing in the mountains.
Shortly before reaching Silver City I passed the huge Sant Rita copper mine. It’s an open pit mine a mile wide and half again as long - one of the largest in the world as well as one of the longest continuously in operation. Its tailings visible for miles around, it’s a huge desecration of the land but nevertheless very impressive.
The remainder of the ride was also difficult, with the increasing heat becoming an ever more concerning factor. It was with great relief that I finally arrived in Silver City at around 1:30, checked myself in at the Palace Hotel, and immediately passed out for an hour or so. The hotel itself though was just perfect- right in the heart of the historic center of town, it was old,Medellin renovated, and only $36. My rooms so far have averaged only $33/night - pretty cheap, especially when you skip breakfast. (Reading back on this now, I wonder if I was experiencing an arrhythmia episode. The conditions would have been right for it. Also, there was apparently 6,000’ of elevation gain in the day.)
Later in the afternoon after I’d recovered somewhat I canvassed town for a meal but didn’t find much worth writing home about. It’s Sunday, and all of the intersesting looking spots were shut down for the day. I settled on a hamburger with chili and onion rings and began reviving soon afterwards.
I spent the balance of the day calling Rachael, watching an episode of a series on Masterpiece Theater that she recommended, and delving into Philip Roth’s American Pastoral.
Monday, May 15: Silver City to Glenwood (62 miles, 2,900’)
I started the day with a wonderful breakfast at the Cenral Cafe, consisting of a green chili and cheese omelette, hash browns, roast, and my first coffee in 38 hours. Partway through breakfast a group of five men entered the cafe and sat themselves at the adjacent table. After several disbelieving double- takes Joe, the owner of the Bike Peddler back in Salem and I concluded that we did indeed recognize each other. It’s not a coincidence enough that we ran into each other in the same place, but we ended up seated in the same cafe at adjacent tables!
It was actually quite an emotional lift to meet someone who appreciated my trip and encouraged me on; and later it gave me a little thrill to wave at them as I cycled past them on my way out of town.
This was a lovely but again very hot day. I stopped at a store in Buckhorn for ice tea and a break from the saddle at about ten, and by then the day had already warmed up to the low eighties in the shade. Other than that though it was an ideal ride through reasonably gentle terrain with minimal traffic and terrific scenery. As the day advanced I progressed from arid land vegetated with yucca and other desert plants to greener surroundings as I followed the Gila and San Francisco mountains north toward their source in the Magallon Mountains. The mountains formed a forty mile long backdrop to the east and became more rugged and colorful as I moved north. Toward midday the winds increased dramatically, blowing me up the road challenging me for control of my bike.
I arrived in Glendale in mid-afternoon and registered myself at Los Olmos, a ranch with attractive stone cabins, a swimming pool, a sauna, and a claim to offer the best breakfast in the state. In another odd coincidence they bill it as Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I’ve been whistling songs from that alvum all day after having been reminded of it from a passage in American Pastoral.
I enjoyed a very leisurely and therapeutic afternoon, relaxing by the pool and in the sauna, reading, napping, sitting on the wall of the lodge watching black-chinned hummingbirds fight over the rights to the feeders above my head.
For dinner I enjoyed a simple but very good Mexican plate (rice, beans, open-faced red chili enchiladas) topped off with blackberry pie. Back in my room for the night I was lulled to sleep by the soothing murmur of the creek and the call of an owl. Very nice.
Tuesday, May 16: Glenwood to Springerville (85 miles, 7,300’)
Day 5: The day began oddly. After having stayed at Los Almos partly because of its breakfast claims, in the end I was more tempted by the Two Grannies Cafe (“The best breakfast in town “.). My thinking was that since they opened at six and I was awake anyway I’d be better off getting an early start and avoiding some sun and wind. It was an extravagant decision since the breakfast came with the room, but I was glad I went. Grannis is a tiny place that feels like a converted one bedroom box house, but it was filled with taciturn cowboys in big hats. The conversation was all about the Los Alamos fire and the foolishness of the gov’mint workers and their so called experts.
As it turned out I wasn’t that early anyway so I didn’t end up saving much time because I found on returning to my cabin that I had a flat tire (my third so far) so I didn’t get on the road much before eight.
The day’s ride was in general beautiful, one of the prettiest days of the trip; but it was quite strenuous. It included two passes in the forty mile ride to Luna, each with a six mile ascent followed by a glorious glide back to the basin. This meant that vefpgetation and vistas were constantly changing, from yucca and chapparel desert to ponderosa pines and back again. I was helped along all day by a mild but persistent tailwind so I made good time, arriving in Luna around noon.
I had lunch at the Luna Mercantile Store and Granery Cafe, a wonderful old pre-1900 pioneer building. The cafe is in the old granery. Its huge exposed beams and an array of tools posters and western paraphernalia make it an interesting spot to just sit look around. The meal (red chili and chicken enchiladas) was satisfying, and the human drama gave some additional color. I was there while the Women’s’ Auxiliary met to socialize and unfold a quilt years in the making.
From Luna the route west toward Arizona and my intended stop for the night in Alpine, fifteen miles away and uphill. This was a much more difficult ride. The wind had picked up and became a significant factor, even though it was primarily from the side. My favorite spot on this stretch was a small lake and wildlife refuge, several miles before Alpine. It hosted a significant bird population, which I enjoyed watching until I couldn’t take the battering from the wind any longer and moved on.
By the time I finally reached Alpine the wind had become very strong; and not seeing anything obvious to cause me to stay I continued on north for another thirty miles to Springerville, riding a 25 mph rocket the entire way. Three miles before town I stopped to check out a lodge in the forest, but decided to continue on into town when I saw that the kitchen was only open on weekends. While I was there my bike had a close call when it was attacked by a lawn chair blown down from the deck above by a serious gust.
The ride as a whole was an emotional mix of pure biker’s ecstasy and anxiety or distress. As long as the wind was directly at my back my challenge was to keep my speed down to 25 mph: but when it came at an angle I was challenged to keep control; and in one awful quarter mile the road doubled back on itself to climb out of a gulch and it took all my remaining strength to maintain a 5 mph pace and an even line.
I found Springerville to be without interest, although I did find a cheap ($36) motel at a place that reminded me of Day’s Inn, and a completely uninspiring restaurant next door.
Wednesday, May 17: Quemado, NM (50 miles, 2,200’)
After an uninspiring breakfast at the neighboring cafe I biked west toward the alpine resort area of Alpine-Pinetop. After about two miles of headwinds though I changed my mind and turned around. In spite of the weather forecast the winds are strong again this morning, this time straight from the west.
I’ve spent a lot of time considering how to finish off this tour. Returning through Gallup annd riding part of Route 66 anlways figured into the plan, but ideas for getting there included a loop west through Show Low, or a very ambitious longer one northwest to Chinle and Canyon de Chelly, as well as several other options. Now that I’m here though none of them really has the right feel, especially given this wind - there are either not enough known cultural or geological attractions to tempt me, or too few lodging possibilities. It wasn’t until facing this wind that the obvious solution finally occurred to me: to head straight east to Albuquerque from here. This worked well with my flight plans because Albuquerque was always the final destination anyway. And now that I’m out here, the landscape back eastward looks more attractive than this open, dry, hot terrain of northeastern Arizona. Plus, the wind.
After validating that accommodation can be found, I hit the road for Quemado, fifty miles straight east on Route 60. Other than for the hours spent sitting on the saddle, this was almost a rest day of relaxed riding - short miles, relaxed terrain, and a tailwind. The land is very plain, with no major climbs and only the occasional modest ridge to traverse.the landscape was open, resulting in wide vistas in all directions.
The prominent feature for the first third of the day was Escudilla Mountain, a broad, battleship shaped monolith thirty miles to the south. I had crossed the western shoulder of this formation yesterday on the ride north from Alpine but couldn’t see it through the ponderosa forest.
Midway through the day I paused to rest beside the roadside beneath the shade of a juniper. Shortly after sitting down was treated to one of my favorite episodes of the entire tour when it family of mountain bluebirds chirped above my head - the parents sitting on the branches above, the children inside the nest: a rusty car muffler wedged between branches about ten feet off the ground. As delightful as this was, it was even better when the male flew off, and then hovered in apparent surprise just a few feet above my bicycle before finally alighting on its handlebars.
The remaining miles to Quemado were notable primarily for the empty, completely arrow straight highway.
Thursday, May 18 : Grants (85 miles, 2,300’)
Unfortunately the fun ends here and we’re left with a few random impressions and the photographs. I had a dim memory of some really impressive rock formation, but it’s obvious from the photographs that I turned north here to El Malpais. I don’t know but I suspect that the decision wa based on the need to find lodging, and Grants was the nearest possibility.
Also though, I had memories of possibly having gone further northwest into Arizona, to Show Low and then east to Gallup. It makes sense now to see that it was one of the options I considered in epdeciding how to end up the tour.
Friday, May 19: Los Lunas (80 miles, 1,400’)
This is a day I’m pretty sure I could have figured out without the photographs. I definitely remember biking a long, semipaved stretch of Route 66, a very wild and remote stretch with free range cattle in the road. And I was pretty sure I’d detoured onto the Apache reservation, and I’ve got the physical evidence in our ceramics collection back in storage. I’ll add photographs of the two vases that came home with me - one from that reservation and one from the Hopis - when I get back to the storage unit.
And, I definitely remember the fantastic meal I had at a Mexican restaurant in Los Lunas - the best meal of the tour including enchiladas with blue corn tortillas, something I didn’t know existed before then.
Saturday, May 20: Albuquerque (24 miles, 400’)
My memories of this day are vague. It was a short ride, but I think there some navigational issues. Also, I think I spent some time birding on my way north, since I had an abundance of time. On the whole though, I’m really surprised by what a rich experience it was, especially since the entire plan was conceived at the last minute because of the fires further north. Looking back now, I’d say it was worth the whole tour just to see those mountain bluebirds.
Bird list
Not a bad showing for a week in the desert: 49 species, with 7 lifetime firsts.
Greater roadrunner*
White-winged dove*
Mourning dove
House sparrow
Red-tailed hawk
Barn swallow
Harris’s hawk*
Western kingbird
American kestrel
Phainopepla*
American robin
Killdeer
Northern mockingbird
House finch
Great-tailed grackle*
American crow
Chihuahuan raven*
Red-winged blackbird
Turkey vulture
Loggerhead shrike
Western meadowlark
Northern oriole
Western tanager
Western bluebird
Yellow-breasted chat
Cassin’s kingbird
Great-blue heron
Grey jay
White-throated swift
Black-chinned hummingbird
Stellar’s jay
Ruddy duck
Yellow-headed blackbird
Brewer’s blackbird
Cinnamon teal
Blue-winged teal
Pintail
Mallard
American coot
Pied-billed grebe
Broad-tailed hummingbird*
Belted kingfisher
Mountain bluebird
Golden eagle
Long-billed curlew
Eurasian starling
White-crowned sparrow
Horned lark
Rock dove
Today's ride: 450 miles (724 km)
Total: 1,571 miles (2,528 km)
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