Hoping for a Tail Wind

Down El Paso way things get pretty spread out. People got no idea where in the world they are. They go up north and come back south. Still got no idea where in the world they are. -Talking Heads, “Cities”.

After a late start out of Tyler and Mallory’s — and mucho gratitude for an awesome breakfast — we’re coming up on El Paso. As I’ve previously detailed, ad nauseum, my disdain for riding through cities — primarily because of the border walls surrounding them that we call suburbs. I almost always prefer to stay rural and go out of my way to avoid suburbia. It takes a lot of time and navigation to go anywhere near suburbs or cities, not to mention the typical lack of bike infrastructure and traffic frequently found zipping around suburban plazas and strip mall. In the case of El Paso De Norte, the ACA route has an option “to avoid city traffic congestion” – it’s called the Anthony Gap Alternative. Which, incidentally, just became the name of the genre-defying musical ensemble I’m starting when I turn 65.

The alternative is five miles longer but worth it. Anthony is apparently a town located both in NM and TX, population 9,360. There’s also a gap in the nearby Franklin Mountains called Anthony Gap. We go past that well-named town and through that well-named gap. It’s scenic and quiet. All is well. Then we make a right turn and few miles later…

Tay-Haas!! Sort of. Apparently even after Texas was admitted to the union, this part of it was so remote that it was still Mexico for a while. Maybe that’s why El Paso is also still on mountain time and operates on the national power grid. In my opinion it still is Mexico anyway. Either way Damon and I are amped to be in another state. A big ass state. We’ll be here for a couple weeks, going end to end. The condition of the shoulder goes from gravelly to paved right at the border. Nice!

Butt.

A few miles in we jump on a road called Loop 275. Walk Purple Heart Blvd. Not much of a boulevard if you ask me. But why would you ask me that? Anyhoo. It’s a four lane highway that runs through a military reservation, so basically it runs through nothing. We have a nice wide shoulder, but it’s got Texas portions of debris all over it. Lots of gravel, nails, tires all over this smoothly paved shoulder. There’s black garbage bags with animal parts hanging out of them in the side of the road. Multiple bags of this. Not just one. I’m not shitting you. Does Texas have a DOT? Because someone has the nerve to paint bike lane signs on this thing but only clean the motor vehicle portions of the road. Save the money for paint and clean this goddamn shoulder every once in a while. It’s rush hour around the outer ring of El Paso and we get a Texas-sized dose of traffic volume. Like tons of cars. Non stop. One after the other zooming by. It’s loud and the entrance and exit ramps are more a threat to our lives than they were on I-10. As we attempt to cross an entrance ramp, I give the right arm signal and look over my right shoulder at a pickup truck a good ways back. He’s just coming up the entrance ramp. I go to make my move to get over to the right and he does not yield. The pickup increases speed and zooms around me like the impatient asshole he apparently is. Because his life is more important than mine. I barely avoid nearly certain death by game of chicken with a redneck in his natural environment. I’m thankful for the previous lessons provided by Tucson Ted.

Shortly after not having a physical termination, a mechanical issue rears its ugly head. I hear a click click click click in my front wheel. Hopefully it’s not a busted spoke. Doesn’t sound like it. Pull over. Sounds like a rock or something stuck in my fender. No ma’am. This little spiral fuck is trying to be the end of me. It is jammed right into my tire. I contemplate the possibilities of roadside surgery. Maybe it’s not surgery. Maybe it’s chess; I’m thinking three moves ahead. I think. Whatever, yo. Option 1: remove via leatherman tool, it comes out and no further problems. We ride as scheduled. Option 2: remove and my tire goes flat. I then have to repair it as rush hour traffic whirls by and the daylight hours dwindle. It’s still a good 18 miles to the next hotel or campsite. Option 3: leave it in and offer a sacrifice to a seven headed tube deity later. Hmmmmm.

I go with numero uno. And que suerte! No problemo, hasta la vista highway!! After about 12 miles, we exit the 275 and are now along a frontage road for maybe 8 more. At a traffic light I look at Damon and see that his face matches my current emotional status. Some intense shit just happened. Nails. Glass. Gravel. Rocks. Wires. Tires. Pipes. Stranded motorists. Dead animals. Semi trucks. Pickup trucks. A greatest hits of shit. We are both surprised to not have a flat or a busted wheel or not have our internal organs busted open all over the road. He sees it in my face too and says “that was some final boss shit”. I’m not much of a gamer, but I catch the reference and agree wholeheartedly. Welcome to Texas.

I don’t like riding in the dark while out on tour. But here we are, the sun starts setting as we weave through the outskirts of El Paso. Then it sets. And now it has set. And it gets dark quick as fuck right away out here. We make a couple wrongs turns with only my back light working. Finally we find a cheap motel 6. It will have to do. We check in and everyone is maskless, despite the signs indicating the opposite is required. I handle the interactions to cover for my unvaccinated pal. Fuck the pool is closed and they don’t have breakfast because of covid, but no one is covering their mouth and nose? We level up our way to room 112 for much earned calories and sleep.

Long distance bicycle travel is about a lot of things for me. Physical and mental health, to start. Touring and site seeing. A sort of battery recharge for sure. It also really about the people you meet along the way… their insight and generosity and wisdom and hospitality. Today’s episode of my bike riding adventure is purely about a few of the people.

I sleep fantastically. Wake up and lay there a little longer. It’s still pretty chilly at night and I’m cozy in the sleeping bag. Eventually I motivate. Damon has his tent broken down and packed already. Lindsay is up making coffee. I follow suit and fire up my JetBoil. Damon and I sip and start to pack. Lindsey and I continue the COVID chat and wade into politics as well. Not just normal politics, but pandemic politics. Which is even more volatile, because they shouldn’t even be a thing. We got different vaccines but are equally encouraged by the development of them; I imagine we’re both very ready for everyone else to hurry up and have their shot at shots. I feel like once everyone can say yes or no, we can move on the hugging strangers again. A few minutes later and Court emerges. Parker follows last. Then Dave comes by and takes out his horses. I’m in the middle of this little community and it feels great. Haven’t felt it yet this trip. We make oatmeal. I take so long packing up that two of the dogs pee on my tent. I pack it up, say adios to our new amigos and hit the road, destination Las Cruces.

20 miles in and the road is closed. Checking my phone maps, it appears we have a lot of backtracking to do. A woman come out of her house and says basically the same thing, plus we have to get on the interstate. I decide to coast up the worksite and one of the guy sees us and waves us on. He talked to his boss and they are letting us walk our bikes the 500 feet to the other side of the bridge they are rebuilding. The construction worker asks where we headed and I yell “Florida!” He responds “alright!”. Didn’t get his name, but shoutout to that guy and his trail magic. He saved us hours of time with just a little bit of appreciated effort on his part.

Pedaling hard in plenty of headwinds to get to Las Cruces, we breeze right through Hatch, NM — which apparently is known for two things pecans and chiles. If we had more time I would have stopped to indulge. If there’s two things that I am, it’s nuts and spicy!!

It’s now later in the day than we’ve ever been out. Headwinds are still there but dwindling a bit as we roll into Las Cruces just before sunset. We meet Tyler, who is graciously hosting Damon and I for the night. An avid warm showers host, Tyler and his gal Mallory have the cutest four month old baby names Wilhem. They’ve set up two beds for us in the spare room. There’s showers and laundry and lasagna. I do all three of those things, in that order. I get to meet Tyler’s mom, who says “oh you’re crazy too, like my son?” To which I reply, “yes, I am definitely crazy”. Tyler and Mallory have bicycled across Japan and he’s also done a bunch of solo touring across the western USA. We chat for a while about our travels, and I probably pass out by 8pm.

In the morning Tyler hooks up the pot of coffee, plus potatoes and eggs and tortilla for breakfast. We feast!! The hospitality provided by Mallory and Tyler is top notch, they truly know what it’s like to be out there on bike. I insist they visit Buffalo soon so I can repay the hospitality. We dig into a second pot of coffee and enjoy this little bit of comfort before we make moves into Lone Star territory.

If you’re just coming in, feel free to have seat on the right. Time travel is a familiar face around here. When I’m now qualifying time using temperature, the only true measurement left is distance — the geographic space travelled. Revealing the cold fact that time travel can’t be real because time isn’t real. Time is now playing the part of prison bitch to Fahrenheit, Celsius and Kelvin. Especially Kelvin. So yeah, time is fucked We’re talking about space travel. And the mission is to gain as much distance and elevation as winter will allow. Thus, I am a space traveler. An astronaut. A pilot. Captain of the one horsepower machine that is me. Miles and feet. Or feet and miles. Whatever the king would want. Regardless, today is weighing in as what might be the hardest day of bicycling I’ve ever bicycled. The switchbacks up to an Imperial 8,228 feet look cold blooded. What I’mma do about my legs?!

With a scientific shit ton of climbing, it’s looking like heavy cardio engagement for most of the day. Not much air to spare for yapping. So Damon and I get our debates out over coffee in this toasty 70° motel room. Complex stuff that Damon is mega passionate about: innovation, finance, and cryptocurrency are his babes right now. He’s so ready for the reign of the baby boomers to be over; can’t understand why use the penny but not the block chain. Talking about what happens to Americans if we lose the power of the purse worldwide – our world currency status. He says guns won’t matter. Money matters. Innovation and ideas matter. He’s clearly got a total Elon Musk man crush. That’s cool. I’m into it, though I’m also thinking about the climb ahead, psyching myself up in between two morning poops followed by a shower.

We’re on the road, navigating a few rolling hills before dropping down to the Mimbres river, then climbing to 7,000 feet in a few miles. The ol’ up down, up down. way down way up. This is all before the big enchilada of a mountain pass. It is a hard appetizer to swallow. I’m playing the mind game where I tell myself to try and save my lowest gear for the final 3-4 miles, knowing that the wind and incline await on those switchbacks. I’ll need something extra when the the probable headwind tries to drop me from three to zero miles per hour, so I keep pushing it now to stay on my second chainring. I don’t know that I believe that I’m going to be able to so that. This climb is not easy and it’s the first of two. It is absolutely beautiful though and I’m going slow enough to witness it all. Stunning scenes of red rocks on one side. White snow on the other wide. Green trees throughout and a blue sky above. I yell out to the beauty, wanted to confirm it’s beauty officially to the galaxy. My senses are overloading with sight, sound and smell.

With about seven miles to the top, I’m absolutely trying as hard as I can but I am gassed. My legs are burning and I’ve been going 3-5 mph since second breakfast. This is beautiful. Intensely beautiful. Indescribably beautiful. I notice that when I hear the whir of traffic approaching, it’s actually the gust of wind or the occasional rush of water. My mind makes it seem like traffic. There’s absolutely no traffic. But over and over I mistake wind and water for vehicles. My brain is all sort of scrambled. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the scent of pine. It heroically take over like an Apollo mission helmed by Tom Hanks. It’s the strongest smell I’ve smelled in months. The air is so clean up here and I’m using every ounce of it, in my nose and out my mouth. Long, deep breathes in succession. Theres a cleansing aspect to all of this. But not some artificially scented floor cleaner; an unspeakable feeling that my mind, body and soul are being completely cleansed and replenished. My 160 bpm heart rate would agree. I really can’t figure the words out, but between the exhaustive cardio, the massive elevation and the aesthetic assault on all of my senses, I’m riding high as can be. Au naturale. Exercise is my stimulant, the environment is my hallucinogenic. Kubrick level visuals are provided by Mother Nature; she is still undefeated.

3 miles to the top and the road signs let me know we’re in switchback land. The winds are easily a sustained 20 miles per hour up here, threatening to whip me right down 11,001 foot high Hillsboro Peak. This is precisely what I’ve been saving that granny first gear for. I hit a total u turn and shift down as the wind shifts to my side, then – smack – on my face; the pedaling is grueling as I repeat the process again and again. Still climbing and now above 8,000 feet, I’m turtling along at 2 mph as my front wheel wobbles side to side in the wind… then my mind takes over – like HAL taking over Discovery One on its way to Jupiter. Neurons fire, brain chemical release, blocking out the pain and fatigue — and after a 30 minute battle that feels like hours — I conquer these switchbacks and am finally at the pass. Celebration, bitches!!!

Resting the steel steed against a sign, I walk the 500 feet up the side trial to the vista point. Vista is Spanish for view. The view, while spectacular, is nothing compared to the indescribable feeling I’m feeling right now. Well, they certainly go hand in hand. Words are futile. Photos can’t capture it. This is a feeling I can only acquire on these tours. It’s why I do it. It’s worth the planning and the pedaling and the pain.

I want to share this indescribable feeling and Damon exhaustingly rolls up just as I was started to wonder if he was having issues. We sit at the top for quite a bit. The wind is cold up here but we’re taking it in. This is the physical highest point on the route, so in essence, it’s all downhill from here…

Not that these downhills are easy. Heavy winds and switchbacks downhill provide quite the challenge as well, my breaks needed a little adjustment and I realize that just a bit too late. Struggling to stay under 25 and out of the oncoming lane in these sharp blind turns, I’m definitely a candidate for death by rode-his-bike-off-a-mountain. Six million ways to die, choose one. I finally put my foot down. Literally. That and some pull-off gravel allow me to come to a stop at one of turns. I make the brake adjustment and eventually the switchbacks become only winding downhills. Now I can gain speed. Right into this little town called Hillsboro. There is no cell service (yes!) but there’s a town park where we can camp. It has water and bathrooms. It also has fellow travelers who are car camping. And. Dogs! Multiple canine lovables. Also a local with some horses next door. I chat with them all, especially the dogs. I catch two of their names: Chubs and Pharaoh. I get all the humans names. Dave. Lindsey. Court. Parker. Parker gives me a beer. It’s good and the first of this tour so it goes down quickly. He gives me another. We talk lots of stuff. And eventually covid. It’s always an interesting talk. A few of us have had it. Lindsey and I are both double dosed with the vaccine. She’s a physician from New York who saw the worst of it almost a year ago. I can relate and then joke that we could even actually hug if we wanted to; that it’s up to us to start making up the post pandemic rules. Stranger hugs used to be so much fun back in the day. Maybe one day they can once more be a bit thing, but not yet. They chat a bit more but I’m starting to fade after that whole mountain pass ride thing. I bid them adieu.

A true, indisputably rare moment, today will not be a day I forget. Damon neither. For our entire lives. This is not some everyday shit and I feel more alive than I have felt in a long time. Actually living. I pop the penthouse up and climb in for a serious snooze as the stars begin to twinkle.