It remained quiet as a quiet thing all night, or at least the small part of the night either of us was conscious. There may have been a grizzly bear party going on outside for the rest of it, although if there was they were very tidy.
We knew our first order of the day was to get the hell out of the forest, so as soon as there was the slightest yellow tinge to the sky we made our move and packed up camp. As we left most of our gear with the bikes four trees down from us, packing was finished before the sun broke the horizon. It was a cold morning after a cold night. Again our sleeping bags had done us proud, but any water that wasn’t in there with us, which was all of it, was frozen solid.
There was a moment when I thought my handlebar bag had been stolen on order, as everything else was there before then I remembered I had put it in one of my panniers. Earlier that day I had spilt half a bottle of Tabasco Sauce in it (long story) so was hoping the pannier would mask the smell from a lurking grizzly needing a condiment to spice up whatever a grizzly eats, all the while hoping it isn’t me as Tabasco Sauce can sting.
Thanks to our Garmin Edge 1000 cycle computers we knew exactly where we were. Our problem was the route that Garmin was giving us was blocked by a 6ft high barbed wire fence and all other tracks are shown on Garmin that went in vaguely the right direction did not exist in the real world. The real world was a minefield of spiky things with an unhealthy thing against soft things, especially our feet and bike tyres.
Before dragging the bikes around I went on a little reconnaissance mission, taking my Garmin with me. Sure enough, I was able to walk the direction Garmin wanted me to, but there was no track and it would be a challenge hauling the bikes along it. That said, as we had little choice, that is exactly what we would need to do.
With me taking the lead, trying not to run over any spiky things, we headed off following the Garmin’s direction. It was the Garmin that got us here, so hopefully, it was also going to be able to get us out.
Eventually, the non-track turned into a tracing of a track, a track the maybe someone had tippy-toed down a month ago. That level of obviousness.
Within an hour we were on a ‘farm road’, which in the UK we would call a 4×4 test track (extreme rating). Another couple of miles further and the ‘farm road’ turned into a farm road, on which two normal road cars passed us before we rounded a corner and… we were on a real road with a yellow stripe down the middle of it. We could have kissed it, but decided against it and just rode down it instead.
The road twisted and turned through spectacular scenery until it hit the valley floor before rising again, eventually passing under the I-25, about 7 miles further along it from where we left it 18 hours earlier. Our mini-adventure was over.
My tyres were in a mess, so as we headed toward Santa Fe it was a sight for sore eyes to see a wooden sign with the words ‘Cycle Shop’ etched into it. We parked the bikes outside of the main reason we found ourselves in a full car park, a restaurant serving breakfast before I headed off in the direction of the bike shop arrow.
The bike shop was clearly less popular than the restaurant and was closed for business. A group leaving the restaurant confirmed this, offering a suggestion of where I could find a bike shop in Santa Fe, a few more miles down the road.
On hearing what two loons were up to on bikes, a lovely lady that is now first place in the category ‘Best Name of the Trip’, Cricket Austin, came over for a chat. Another chat, another person that we spent 5 minutes with, but wished we could have spent so much longer, and another reconfirmation in humanity. Cricket not only offer to buy us breakfast and electrolyte drinks but offered us accommodation at her nearby ten-acre ranch. I know I am starting to sound like a broken record, but the generosity of the people we are having the privilege to meet on this trip is humbling.
When we said our thanks and goodbyes to Cricket we still hadn’t decided on a plan for the day. This was however resolved as we cycled toward Santa Fe. As my tyres were already in a mess, not helped by the brief off-road section in the Santa Fe forest, I could have done without the thorns that had been sprinkled on the hard shoulder by the guys cutting the roadside vegetation.
I removed over twenty thorns from my already decrepit front tyre and a smaller, but an equally deflating number from my rear. We were still carrying enough inner tubes between the two of us for that not to be a worry, but my tyres were shot.
We had no choice other than immediately head for the bike shop. We parked up outside Sirius Cycles and I went in with only a glimmer of hope there might be something inside that would allow us to continue.
While Deborah remained on bike security detail I was welcomed inside by Clemente, the owner of Sirius Cycles. There is something about stepping inside a bike shop that looks like a workshop that fills me with confidence. That confidence was well placed when, without asking for a specific brand, just what we were up to on bikes, Clemente took down two of the very tyres that I would have bought if I was still at home… Schwalbe Marathon Plus. Perfect!
We chatted with Clemente for a while, a keen cyclist but a keener husband, dad and business owner, so doesn’t get out as often as he would like. We got directions to the local grocery store and the best route down to Albuquerque and headed off.
By the time we had bought lunch, stocked up on necessities for the next few days and had a phone call from daughter #2, Feni (who may be fired as a daughter as she hasn’t read of my blogs and hasn’t been tracking where we are), it was mid-afternoon on what had turned out to be a very warm day.
It, therefore, didn’t take much self-persuasion to book into a hotel, get cleaned up, sort our bikes out, go out for a meal (okay, we stretched the budget to Domino’s) and generally chillax. The part of two we were in felt like the part of the US I am most familiar with, the California Bay Area.
Going to sleep in a hotel room that looks more like Clemente’s bike shop than a hotel room right now, but after a few hours of reset, we should be better placed to tackle whatever tomorrow throws at us. That is assuming the traffic outside the hotel turns off soon.
Add a squirting nozzle to your bottle of Tabasco and you’ve got a pepper spray bear deterrent.
I wouldn’t waste Tabasco Sauce on a bear Chris. What would I put on my Dill Pickle crisp wraps if I run out of Tabasco sauce?
This was supposed to be Blog Day 32. You missed one. lol
I have just been through them all… all numbers are there on thegulliverstravels.com
May be I missed posting one for Facebook…?