“Uh, that’s dirt, actually”

June 14, 2019

Day Fourteen: A BLM Wildlife Exclosure to Cuba, New Mexico

Yesterday’s great day was followed by what was by far the hardest day I’ve had on this trip, and one of the most difficult I’ve ever had on a bike, as I suffered multiple meltdowns, had a close encounter with a rattlesnake while peeing, attempted, often unsuccessfully, to ride through deep sand, and in general Did Not Have A Good Time.

I slept alright in our dusty, remote campsite, but still felt extremely lethargic in the morning. Today was going to be hotter and cloud-less, so Joy was eager to break camp and get going to the next town, Cuba, 60+ miles away. I was extremely dubious about this plan, which seemed overly ambitious, and this probably affected my mood negatively.

By the time we rode out of the exclosure it was already hot, and the sun beat down. Last night one of the cows that Joy “herded” away from the exclosure entrance had been stubborn, and this morning the same cow gave Joy “the stink-eye.” (This is what Joy told me. All the cows looked the same to me, but perhaps Joy inherited her late grandfather Marion’s noted ability to identify and remember the personality quirks of individual cows.)

The road continued to be more of an idea of a road than an actual road, and today it seemed to twist and turn even more than yesterday, as we rode through deep arroyos and made long circles around geological formations. What was fun yesterday, in the late afternoon and early evening when it was cooler and we had some cloud cover and a tailwind, seemed extremely challenging today. Throughout the morning, Joy was much stronger and rode ahead of me.

The landscape continued to be arresting, but I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it as much today. The arroyos, especially, were even larger and deeper than yesterday’s, and it was difficult to climb out of them.

After a while we made a super-steep descent, which initially felt like riding off a cliff. Joy pronounced it “scary.” I don’t know how people riding the other direction could even push their bike up it; riding it would certainly be impossible.

Around lunchtime we reached Ojo Frio Spring, which our map had warned was not a reliable source of water. We found a disgruntled group of cows surrounding a tank containing some extremely murky water. The cows did not seem happy at all as we approached them, and moved a short distance away and started loudly mooing, angry, I suppose, that we had temporarily relocated them from their water supply.

The water was do dirty that Joy decided not to try filtering it (“There’s stuff swimming in it!”), so we left the water tank and moved to a scrubby tree a few hundred feet away, where we sat on our camp stools and had lunch. After that I ambled over to another tree to pee, and halfway through that operation heard a rattling sound. I glanced to my right, and sure enough, there was a rattlesnake, about eight feet from me. I called out “Snake! Snake” which quickly summoned Joy, who seemed disappointed that the snake disappeared before she could get a photo of it.

Our maps listed this as the only source of water for many miles.

Joy was not impressed by the water at Ojo Frio Spring. “There’s stuff swimming in there.” We decided not to filter water from it.

On we rode, as it became hotter. I started noticing prairie dogs quickly crossing the road in front of me, something I’d not seen before; in my previous experience, prairie dogs pop out of their holes by the side of the road and make angry chirping noises as you ride past them, but don’t actually get out on the road. Curious.

We continued to ride on the hot, dusty road, which had now become more gravel than dirt. We indulged in fantasies in which the friendly driver of a refrigerated Schwan’s truck miraculously appeared on this utterly empty and untraveled road, pulled up beside us, and asked what flavors of ice cream we were interested in purchasing.

I’d started standing up on some of the descents since I felt that it gave me more control, although I probably was imagining that.

I’m guessing the missing word is “impassable.” These roads are impossible to ride on when they get wet. There are YouTube videos of cyclists pushing their bikes for miles through sticky mud in this area. We’re trying to get through New Mexico before the monsoon season starts.

A few hours after lunch we turned onto pavement for a four- or five-mile climb, during which I questioned various life choices I had made, specifically the choice to ride a heavy bicycle in the desert in New Mexico far, far from sources of cold Gatorade.

At the top of the hill I met a nice couple riding some of the same dirt roads we were riding, but on “dual-sport” motorcycles. They immediately asked if wanted some of their water, I replied in the affirmative, and I was engaged in some mood-lifting conversation with them when Joy arrived at the top, just in time to chug some of the motorcyclists’ water. After a photograph with the lady motorcyclist holding my bike (her request), we got back on dirt.

This woman was very excited about posing with my bike. She and her husband gave us some water when we were running low 20+ miles from Cuba.

Not long after the motorcyclists gave us water, we found a spring (NOT listed on the maps), but we got to Cuba before we needed to filter it.

More climbing. More soft sand. I tried to interject some levity by singing “I like climbing!” to the tune of “I Want Candy”, but this annoyed Joy, who had previously added her own set of lyrics (“I like pine trees!”) to the tune, and didn’t like me appropriating it.

We met a woman riding the route in the other other direction, while her husband drove a support van for her. They gave us a couple of grapefruit, the flavor of which I am definitely not a fan of, but which I accepted and ate, because it was juicy.

The next section was extremely difficult. Soft and sandy. Unrideable. I dumped the bike once in violent fashion, while somehow managing to jump away and not fall myself. With less than 20 miles to Cuba, I became convinced we would never make it. Joy, stoic, insisted that yes, we would.

This is near my lowest point of the entire trip. I’d dumped the bike, dropped the sunblock multiple times, and was as dirty as I’ve ever been.

At last we reached pavement, for the last 11 miles to Cuba. It was a highway with a good, very wide shoulder, and although it was slightly uphill all the way to town, I finally, after one of the longest days ever, felt serenely confident that we would make it. This was pavement, not soft sand. I could do this.

We reached the outskirts of Cuba (pop. 735) after 7:00, and stopped at the first of the three cheap motels in town. It was the kind of no-frills place that caters to traveling working men. There would be no negotiating tonight: I handed the lady my card and said that we wanted something with an air conditioner and a shower. She was jolly as she looked us over, commenting on Joy’s dark brown tanned legs. “Uh, that’s dirt, actually”, I said for no good reason. “I think I’ll put you in 109”, the lady said. Room 109 had the most stained carpet I’ve ever seen in a motel room, and later we surmised that it’s the room reserved for dirty hikers and bikers.

Still, the air conditioner worked, the shower worked, and the mattress was not inflatable and lying on the ground.

After we cleaned up we walked to a McDonald’s inside a gas station where I drank PowerAde after PowerAde from the fountain and ate the best french fries ever.

Later at the motel we decided to do a late start and a very short day tomorrow, and get part of the way up the mountain. Except for some painful leg cramps, which caused me to yell out and wake Joy, the night passed uneventfully.

Today's ride: 62 miles (100 km)
Total: 509 miles (819 km)

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