Windy (phone app) had been predicting today was a windy day with wind speeds of 20+ mph and gusts of up to 40 mph, so it wasn’t a surprise when the wind picked up in the middle of the night. Apart from that brief wakeup call, the night was peaceful and the sleep was good.
The plan for the day was to get through Albuquerque and stay at an RV park marked on the Adventure Cycle Association map as the first campground after exiting the city. As the distance to Enchanted Trails, RV Park & Trading Post was a little over 30 miles it was a slow relaxing morning. I say relaxing, it was for me while Deborah changed her rear inner tube again.
We hit the road at about 10 am, then stopped a mile or two down the road at a supermarket for breakfast. Another mile down the road we were stopped by a chap in an old pickup truck, interested in what we were up to. Red Wilburn used to tour on bikes (although I have a sneaking suspicion he meant a one with an engine) but now can only dream about it as he has trouble balancing on a bike. I told him we were having trouble today too, which seemed to confuse him, at which point he drove off.
The road into Albuquerque was primarily downhill, but due to the strong wind, we were forced to pedal. The scenery that we passed through, although becoming more urban as we approached Albuquerque remained quite spectacular, but it also caused the wind to swirl, resulting in us being buffeted from all sides. When we had a wide hard shoulder to cycle on this wasn’t too dangerous, but on the section that we were forced into the carriageway, it was dangerous.
We finally made it down into the outskirts of the city. Route 66 basically cuts a straight path from east to west through the city on Central Avenue. It is a very commercial avenue and the first batch of cheap hotels that we came across were very tempting.
We resisted the temptation of putting in an 11-mile day, but only just. With a loaded bike that has the aerodynamics of a 1970’s Volvo, it wasn’t fun cycling in such a low gear downhill sharing traffic lanes with vehicles that likely wouldn’t feel the bump if they ran over us.
With the exception of the occasional official Route 66 sign or business trying to profit from an association with the Mother Road, we could have been in the crappy part of any city.
As we had decided not to cave in and check in to a cheap hotel to get out of the wind, we did not need anything a thrift store or flea market was likely to offer, we were not looking for new alloy wheels, and had no intention of getting a tattoo, there was little of interest on the first few miles of this inner-city road.
We then passed through the area of Albuquerque that you clearly go if you want an RV, with some on sale that would dwarf a National Express coach in the UK.
At one crossroads, just as we pulled away from the traffic lights we spotted a bike shop on the corner, Two Wheel Drive. In need to a couple of spare inner tubes, we called in. We are starting to get used to how expensive the US seems to compare to when I used to travel here every month with work, compounded by the terrible Brexit exchange rate, but $20 for two tubes!
With two new gold plated inner tubes safely bagged we pushed on through the remainder of the city, passing the University campus, a business district and on to what appeared to be the old part of the city.
As it was lunchtime we broke the habit of the trip so far and stopped at a purveyor of fine food (okay, Subway) to purchase some substance to help us with our onward journey.
One thing we had noticed when we passed through the city was the number of people that looked either homeless or as close to it as you can get. It was therefore not a surprise when a homeless gentleman came over for a chat as soon as we parked up our bikes.
He introduced himself as Winston Brannon, originally from the British Virgin Isles, which is why he has an English second name apparently, but then his “bum of a father” moved the family to New York and it went wrong from there. He couldn’t remember how he ended up in Albuquerque, but he has been here for over twenty years now.
By this time Deborah had the sandwich in hand, so we said our goodbyes. I can’t help think Winston only wanted to chat to me as I probably looked like I could do with a roof over my head too.
The final leg out of town had been visible all the way through town. A climb out of the city back to where Route 66 rejoins I-40. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been too bad a climb, but with such a strong headwind it was a long hard slog in a ridiculously low gear. That said, the view behind us as we climbed the hill, across the valley, was quite spectacular, providing us with a legitimate reason to stop and take a photo every 3 minutes.
Conveniently there was a service station at the top of the climb which sold both hot chocolate and brain freezing beverages in XL sizes. With both procured for the princely sum of $2.54, we sat on the pavement outside.
While there we had a brief chat with a guy that had just moved into the area and asked if we had heard of Warmshowers, I assume as it looked liked we needed one. Matt Lee is a keen cyclist but has never done a tour. Our sorry looking state probably wasn’t the best advertisement for setting off on a tour, but as I have mentioned before, while it’s not for everyone if you are even a little curious go for it.
Matt… what are you waiting for? Get your passport and get planning. There is a whole world out there and it’s not going to come to you. We are on Warmshowers, so you could start your tour off in Scotland! See you there!!
The service station was less than two miles to the RV park, so fully juiced up it didn’t take too long to get there, although the wind did everything possible to stop us.
This stop had been on our plan for months, so it was a small shock when we were informed by the ladies on reception that they don’t take tents.
I guess I must have looked quite pitiful as they offered us a place to put up our tent and refused to take payment. Vickie and Karla couldn’t have been more friendly and welcoming. They had both visited Scotland, on many occasions and even had relatives in Newcastle. Well somebody other than Deborah’s family needs to live there I guess.
On leaving the reception I ended up talking to a couple from Portland, although now living by the sea a few miles from the Californian state line. Roger and Lois were at the RV park in an RV, which is apparently what you generally turn up to RV parks with. The reason we got talking in the first place is that Roger had overheard my conversation about Scotland with Vickie and Karla, mentioning they had also been to Scotland for a week, spending 5 days in Broxburn, less than 30 miles away from where we live in Biggar… what a small world!
With the tent up, Deborah put on the laundry while I had a shave and a shower. With almost a week of stubble growth, it reminded me that Christmas isn’t too far away, although if I did decide to leave it to grow there may be seasonal jobs I could pick up when I return to Scotland.
We have spent the evening sitting in the TV area of the trading post building, surrounded by 1950’s furniture, charging our 2019 electronics up.
Diner was nuts and crisps as we couldn’t be bothered to cook.
With the interstate so close and with no sign of the wind subsiding I doubt it will be the most peaceful of nights, but we are both looking forward to our sleeping bags tonight… we can even hear the massive US flag sited in the RV sales yard next door flapping in the wind.
Taken earlier… it’s dark now and it’s still flapping like a mad flappy thing!
Never a favourite city of mine. Used to travel for work there and it’s the “big city” for my Durango Co. Sister in law to go to.
Some nice parts as I recall and the annual balloon festival is a must go to.
Winds have always seemed to be strong there too.
Making good progress and thanks for the write ups. I Must take some bike fix classes….