Day 17: Las Vegas to Tucumcari

May 22, 2023

This was a much harder day than any of us anticipated. Although it was a long route, the net loss in elevation of 2000ft gave us false hope of fast times. Some nasty climbs, poor surfaces, heat and occasional headwinds held us up. That said, it was a stunning ride with a variety of scenery.

We started with a near 1000 climb out of Las Vegas over the first 13 miles, leaving several of us trying to warm up our legs. There were practically no cars for the whole route, with most of the traffic being trucks carrying asphalt; a surprisingly nice smell in the fresh morning air.

At about 18 miles we reached the edge of a plateau giving incredible views of rolling terrain interspersed with rock formations. A quick drop of 500ft brought us to another plateau at about 6000ft above sea level. We'd moved from high desert scrub to prairie with wide plains of dry grass. The first SAG was at the gas station used in the opening scene of No Country for Old Men. Its abandoned to a poor state now and there were no rest rooms, leaving us all wandering about behind the building for some privacy.

Media 6129_no country for old men_gas station (closed)_1.jpg A few miles further on a slight climb brought us to the edge of the plateau and an incredible descent of 1000ft traversing and winding down a seeming cliff to more desert below. There was no traffic and the curves were gentle, leaving us the chance to sweep down with almost no breaking required. The descent continued at the bottom of the cliff, but was interspersed with little rises.

It was mid-morning now and heating up. The landscape was dry desert scrub again, with almost no buildings. This road has been called the loneliest highway in the US. Although the ride was now progressing quickly, we were pleased to see the truck setting up for the second SAG. Simon and I had got there before the others so Tom and Alena were still setting up. We grabbed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cold root beer and sat on benches under a permanent shelter. Not sure why the shelter was there. Tom had recorded the date when he was last here in 2019 and added to that date again today.

Too much faffage meant I left the SAG some time after some of the others. ^{However, a few hundred yards down the road I came to a mini traffic jam of half a dozen cars and all the riders ahead of me, some of whom had been waiting for 10 minutes or so. The road was being repaired (hence the asphalt trucks) and reduced to one lane. We were escorted through a mile long section (Simon tried to overtake the escort).}

At this point Simon, David and I started to get a chain going. That broke up completely as we went up and then down a knife-edged ridge of rock. The gradient reached 10%, a farmer in a pick up stopped in front of me to talk to Tom, but I was cheered on by Alena and Paula.

With the temperature in the 30s I was pretty cooked after that, but pressed on to the final SAG in a strange holiday resort next to Conchas Lake Marina. There were fences, some beaten up buildings and signs for a marine engineer, but it didn't look like much of a holiday destination. Certainly no sign of a marina, or even water. Paula had set up under a tree outside a gas station and store. I drank two bottles of Gatorade from the truck and a root beer from the store before pushing on for the last 33 miles.

The road here was cracked in that regular way and the surface was very abrasive. It was smoother on the white line at the side, but was also often broken up in a way that looked at as though it would jam a tyre. This surface took a toll on the riders and the bikes. Peyton had a long queue of bikes to look at tonight.

I was on my own now, pushing on to Tucumcari. I missed a turning a couple of miles from the hotel and in the last kick I realised I was hypoglycaemic. I stopped the clock outside the hotel but went straight across the lot to a gas station for a chocolate milk. I got another skimmed milk at the hotel and remembered I'd had nothing since the trail mix and drinks at the final SAG nearly two hours before. I was bushed at supper.