I woke up under the carport at the RV
park at around 6 am. Joseph and I packed up our gear and then looked around for
some food to eat. Unfortunately there wasn’t really any place to get breakfast,
but lucky for us, the lady who had given us the carport the evening before had
some bread and butter along with plenty of hot, strong coffee in the lounge
area. We chatted with the locals for a while but we knew that sooner or later
we would have to climb to the top of La Manga Pass, which was a short but steep
climb away. Joseph and I rolled out around 8 am and were shortly made it to the
top of the pass.
 |
| Overlooking the Conejos River Valley |
We flew down the other side, dodging cows which were roaming
freely on either side of the highway as well as in the road itself. Not long
after we turned off the pavement onto a dirt road which crossed the narrow gauge
tracks of the Cumbres and Toltec railroad. Only a handful of miles later we
passed a sign that showed us we were now in our last state, New Mexico. Almost
immediately the road conditions began to disintegrate. This is something that
would be a constant throughout almost all of the dirt roads in New Mexico.
 |
| New Mexico! |
The trail pointed up and skirted
the edge of the Cruces Basin Wilderness. Miles away we could see lightning and rain
emanating from foreboding storm clouds. Since it was nearly lunchtime we
stopped and chewed on our giant cinnamon buns we had bought the day before in
Platoro. As good as they looked from the outside I’m afraid they didn’t live up
to what I had imagined. The icing had sunk into the rock-hard dough and had
rendered the pastry almost inedible. Knowing we needed the calories anyway, we
munched away until we could take it no longer, then figured the animals could
use a snack, and tossed them aside.
A few
minutes later I started to feel what I had been fearing all day, raindrops! I
put on my rain gear and continued to slog uphill though roads that were soon achieving
the consistency of peanut butter. After only a few miles my bike was rendered
useless. With my tires packed full of mud I no longer had any traction so I
soon ground to a halt. I pushed my bike to the top of a small hill, then used
gravity to propel me down the other side. After I reached a certain speed the
centrifugal force of the spinning wheel slung almost all of the mud off. I
pedaled to the bottom of yet another small rise and I soon had to dismount to
push my bike again. At times the mud accumulated so badly that my rear wheel
ceased to turn. All the mud had jammed between the frame and the tire and locked
it in place so that I was skidding my bike rather than rolling it. While all this
is happening the rain is intensifying. There are periods where it slows down
for a little only to start again harder than before. The combination of not
enough food, the rain, the mud, and a drive train that was starting to sound
like a broken cement mixer was starting to wear on me. “Why am I doing this,
what is the point?” “I could easily be at home, dry and warm, stuffing my face
with my Mom’s home cooking; but instead I’m in the middle of a rainstorm,
covered in mud, and halfway hypothermic.” This was supposed to be enjoyable
vacation and it was quickly turning into one of the worst days of my life.
Joseph and
I stopped at a small stream and tried in vain to clean our drivetrains of mud.
After realizing that we weren’t getting very far, we just cleaned what we could
so we had at least a few usable gears, then continued on. Not much further we
hit a paved road. I flagged down a passing motorist and found out that there
were really no hotels and restaurants within a 30 minute drive. Our only choice
was too keep pressing onward.
Mile after mile of climbing passed under our
mud-laden wheels and still we did not see the turn off. By this time it was
late afternoon and we had covered only 60 miles in 8-9 hours, less than a 10
mph average. We needed to find a place to stay for the night because there was
no chance we could reach where we were originally planning to stay. At long
last we arrived at Hopewell Lake. Right beside the gravel road we had turned on
there was a day use area that had a small shelter. Although there was a sign that
said the area was not to be used after dusk, we decided to set up camp anyway.
We were exhausted and the idea of a roof over our heads with a place to dry our
gear was more comforting than you could ever imagine.
As Joseph sprayed off his
bike at a nearby hydrant I cooked up a pot full of ramen noodles. We both
changed out of our soaking clothes and ate our noodles in silence. There really
was nothing to say. We had had one of the worst days of our trip so far, but we
had made it through safely and would be ready to tackle the GDMBR tomorrow.
Till next time,
No comments:
Post a Comment