massive mine, ceiling tiles and toast bandages, trundling, emory pass, black range lodge, strawbale houses

October 6, 2008

Day Fifteen

"Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime. Teach a man to cycle and he'll realize fishing is stupid and boring."
- Desmond Tutu -

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We rolled out of the hotel room at 8:45 and into WalMart ten minutes later. I bought a couple of SD cards so I can continue taking tons of pictures.

this woman was really interested in Klaus and his bike

after a few moments she asked him a question and they started talking

For the next 22 miles we had rolling hills and ended up at about the same altitude at which we started.

there were pockets of horses here and there all along the route today

a rare photograph of this species, captured in its natural habitat

we passed the massive Santa Rita mine this morning

In San Lorenzo we stopped at the Corner Market and Deli where we met Julie, the owner. As a business owner, it's mandatory to be personable (excluding the Soup Nazi); for Julie it seemed to come naturally, just an expression of her personality.

Julie, on the left, and a couple of her friends

Once she found out we were riding our bikes across the country she wanted us to sign a ceiling tile.

After purchasing the store just over a year ago, she began the tradition of having well-known people sign ceiling tiles.

our tile was placed right above the cash register, in a place of honor

Klaus is so happy he's almost smiling but, of course, he's German so his face might actually crack if he does. We had a great time during the hour-long stop, and the cheeseburgers were better than average fare.

She gave me some Toast Bandages before we left. I'm not sure what "Toast Bandages" are, but I've gotta say... they taste terrible, especially after pulling them off a scab.

At 1:30 we left the deli and started our ascent of Emory Pass, the highest point of our entire trip at 8,228 feet.

I don't sing in public. I don't even sing in private, because my singing voice sounds like the combination of a longtime smoker coughing up blood and someone gargling sulfuric acid. The last time I sang in public a passerby attempted to start CPR on me, and I was upright and conscious at the time.

Klaus, however, does sing, and now that he's getting to know me I've been able to enjoy that aspect of his personality. The funny thing is that although he does know the correct words to the songs he sings, he changes them up a little according to the situation. Pedaling down a road which stretches infinitely into the distance, the wind blowing harshly across it, he would sing "The Long and Windy Road," an almost-Beatles' song. I never knew what was going to come out of the bellows next, but I always knew it would be entertaining.

We talked about bicycling and found that we have a lot in common. For both of us, the main reason we do this is to meet people. Everyone has a story, and most of the stories are interesting.

Riding with Klaus, I also learned a lot about photography; the main thing I learned was how much I don't know. As I said earlier, he's an IT Program Manager and has a tremendous knowledge of computers and other technical information. What I didn't realize is just how much of a technical skill photography is. I understand the basic f-stop, depth of field, focal length, and shutter speed kind of stuff, but at times it almost sounded like he was speaking another language. On several occasions he'd take three pictures of the same scene, each one with the focal point on a different area (foreground, middle ground, and distance) then, using the "raw data," combine them later so no area would be too over- or underexposed.

You should check out his web page to see what a fantastic photographer he is: https://www.instagram.com/klaus_color/ . He also has his own website with pictures of all the trips he’s taken over the years: www.rad-fernweh.de. The name of the website translates as "daydreaming about bicycling."

I don't know if it's the hypoxia again (lack of oxygen to the brain), but riding today was joyful. The occasional cool tailwind lifted my speed and my spirits.

Now that we're climbing into the forested areas of Gila National Park I'm seeing more birds. Since Glamis, the only birds I've been seeing on a regular basis are vultures. I'm not sure if it's because they felt they were cheated that hellish, eventful day, or because after a day's riding I smell like carrion on the side of the road. Regardless, they floated patiently on the hot updrafts for hours, graceful and predatory, awaiting my slow demise in the heat.

Not today, my friends, not today. The Gates of Death couldn't keep me from continuing with this trip.

The road is steep, with a number of switchbacks, but it isn't difficult. I just kept pedaling, trundling up the mountain with a silly grin on my face.

We stopped on a regular basis for pictures, water, and fruit or protein bars.... and, of course, to say,

"Hmph. I could fart this with one cheek."

For eighteen miles we pedaled up. And up.

And up some more.

Toward the very end, as the grade increased, I was no longer trundling.

As we inched our way upward, almost every person who passed us gave us a smile and either waved to us or gave us the thumbs up signal; a couple of people honked.

Out of curiosity, I checked my heart rate during the climb and found it to be 130 beats per minute. I also checked it this morning before getting out of bed.... 60 bpm.

We reached Emory Pass, 8,828 feet above San Diego's coastline, with the satisfaction that only comes with having pedaled a mile and a half into the sky.

After taking pictures by the Emory Pass sign, we saw a side road with a sign that said "Scenic Overlook," and decided to pedal down the gravel road to see what was there. It was definitely worth the extra quarter mile. Here are some pictures.

the brown slash in the mountain is the road we'll be coasting down in about twenty minutes

The light brown patch in the middle of this picture is where we'll be staying tonight, and the brown ridge in the center right is the road down the mountain.

At last it was time to leave. The sun was slipping away, and we didn't want to be flying down a mountain through eight miles of darkness.

There are different types of downhill. One of them is a long, gentle slope, a caress which eases you along at a steady, pleasurable pace. It's steep enough to keep you moving at a consistent speed but not so precipitous that you can't look around and enjoy the scenery.

Another type is a dramatic downhill grade, usually with a series of sharp hairpin turns. With these, you have to continuously brake, or die traumatically, yet gloriously, broken into pieces at the bottom of a ravine. If your concentration wavers at the wrong moment you'll hear Klaus singing as your consciousness fades into oblivion....

"Died... in the USA, Died.... in the USA, First kick was when I hit the ground...."

The descent into Kingston was the second type.

The conflict for me is that although I enjoy taking pictures of the scenery, I hate braking. I feel like every time my brake pads graze the rim, it wastes energy that I've burned by pedaling up the other side. Going downhill is an earned thrill, one paid for with my own literal sweat so, well, as you can see.... no pictures.

In Kingston (pop 32) we stopped at the Black Range Lodge Bed & Breakfast.

The stone and mortar building was built in the 1800s and has seven guest rooms. It's had some add-ons over the years and now seems to ramble on forever.

Although Kingston currently has only a handful of people, it was the largest town in New Mexico in the late 1800s. It swelled to 7,000 people as a result of the Lady Franklin Mine, the country's largest producer of high-grade silver from 1880-1893.

That's information I learned from the owners of the lodge, Catherine and Pete Wanek. They stressed that they aren't really interested in having hordes of people come through, and instead prefer to keep the atmosphere more intimate. Additionally, they like their down time, and having people every evening would take the fun out of it.

Although a Bed & Breakfast, Catherine also fed us supper, accompanied by some good wine. Klaus, in return, pulled out his bottle of 15-year-old Glenfiddich Scotch. He bought it for a ridiculously low price in Asia and has been carrying it with him since. Pete made some homemade strawberry ice cream, and I contributed my appetite.

Catherine is the author of a couple of books, including The New Strawbale Home. In her book she pictures homes in which the insides of the walls are made from actual bales of straw. When she first told me about the houses I had images of, well, STRAW walls, like in The Three Little Pigs story. However, the straw is inside the walls, and the houses in her book are really quite beautiful.

Apparently, the straw provides great insulation and is ecologically smart. Catherine and Pete are strong proponents of a sustainable lifestyle.

When we get to El Paso, Klaus is considering going to Mexico and riding along the Rio Grande river, parallel to the ACA route for a hundred or so miles, then re-entering the United States in Fort Hancock.

When he told Catherine and Pete, both veteran world travelers, they said (my paraphrase) "YOU'RE GONNA GET KILLED!!!!!!"

Apparently, Juarez is in the middle of a huge drug war and a lot of people, both the ones involved as well as some who are collateral damage, are getting killed. Klaus, who bicycled through Moscow, one of the most dangerous cities on the planet, listened attentively but wasn't moved.

Traveling through Mexico would be beneficial for more than the sheer pleasure of fighting Mexican drug lords and learning how to suture your own wounds following a few festive knife fights.

The real benefit, other than seeing firsthand the inside workings of the Mexican healthcare system or, if you're particularly lucky, the "ins and outs" of the penal system, is that he would be able to extend his visa. If he leaves the country, then returns, he'll be eligible for a new 90-day visa. As it now stands, he's going to be cutting it close trying to finish the trip before his 90-day limit expires.

I paid for one of the rooms (and received a thirty percent discount because I'm traveling by bike). Klaus opted for the $15.00 campsite in the front yard instead.

When Catherine mentioned the javelinas which roam the surrounding countryside, Klaus' eyes widened and he became very interested. Roving bands of armed, drug-crazed Mexicans are one thing, but slavering, tusked mammals rooting around outside your tent and disturbing your sleep are an entirely different matter.

Catherine let him sleep on one of the downstairs beds.

I went to bed at 10:30 and was asleep within two minutes.

What a fantastic day.

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distance: 50.1 miles
average speed: 9.3 mph
maximum speed: 39.3 mph
time on bike: 5:26:32
cumulative mileage: 706.1 miles
feet climbed: 4237 feet

Today's ride: 51 miles (82 km)
Total: 706 miles (1,136 km)

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