Day 26: Boise City, OK to Clayton, NM (46.21 miles, 1972.4 total, 25.0 mph max)
We made it to Clayton, NM without stopping even for breakfast. But that's only because there was no place to stop.
We set our clocks back again. Because of that we arrived at a KOA in Clayton by 10 am. I went to the doctor and he said the hand is ok but it won't get any better until I stop cycling. But at least I know it's not going to do any damage permanently.
We start some serious climbing this week and hope to be out of the worst of it by next weekend (today is Friday). Very low on funds; may need to start using plastic. I really did not want that.
Clayton is cool. We checked out the town and met some locals.
We're way ahead of schedule now and we'll be taking off more often, doing half days like today. We're both really enjoying this part of the country.
Day 27: Clayton, NM to Cimmaron, NM (112.1 miles, 2084.5 total, 42.0 mph max)
What a day. One stop between Clayton and Springer. We're really seeing the mountains. They're very intimidating. I'm petrified about climbing tomorrow.
We are in Cimmaron, NM, at the foot of a mountain. Fifty-five miles to Taos tomorrow, then a day off for Chris's birthday. Taos looks like it'll be a fun place for a day off.
Today Chris broke 5 spokes at the same time and we were 5 miles from Springer. Quite discouraged, we sat and played out the options in Springer. Just then a Backroads van pulled into the gas station where we were. At least 40 bikes were on the roof, and they had plenty of spokes and the freewheel remover tool we needed. It was not a coincidence. This is our guardian angel for sure, and the driver gave us each a PowerBar, too.
We were watching the mountains all day and now they're finally here, right in front of us.
Day 28: Cimmaron, NM to Taos, NM (57.0 miles, 2141.5 total, 33.0 mph max)
I woke up early - 7 am - and just sat and admired the mountains. They're really something else. This town - Cimmaron - is really great. Everybody is so mellow and laid back. They all call each other poncho and are friends with everybody else. They're wonderful to people passing through like us.
It's scary to think that we'll be going over these mountains. It's going to be tough, but I can't wait to get to Taos. (This was the first time I began a journal entry before riding for the day)
The ride from Cimmaron to Taos was the best country I've seen in my life. I day-dreamed about moving out here after graduation all day long. We're now in Taos and our bikes are in the shop. We'll be able to go out to celebrate Chris's birthday tonight and then tomorrow we'll spend the day in Taos.
Everything is made of adobe here. There are art galleries everywhere. I'd like to come back to ski here.
Today's scenery was the best yet. We saw snow-capped peaks, whitewater rapids, wildlife, and beautiful vegetation. Eagle Nest Lake was spectacular.
(the following notes were barely legible)
We went to the bar. I'm messed up and it's fun. Taos rocks. I'm coming here after college.
Day 29: Taos, NM to Tres Piedres, NM (45.4 miles, 2186.9 total, 28.0 mph max)
We skipped out on a day off in Taos. We woke up late and didn't leave until 1 pm, though. We made it as far as Tres Piedres and heard about the Rainbow Gathering. It's like this hippie place. We decided to check it out.
We got a ride to the gathering with these hippies in a mid-70's Jeep Cherokee. No upholstery, no radio, no AC. Only a few door handles, and trash everywhere. The guys were really nice, though.
We made it to camp - 20 miles up a dirt road - and now are at the gathering. A lot of drugs. There's a lady called "Mom" who cooks. She gave us dinner. A conglomeration of potato salad, tossed salad, and potato pancakes, and in one big mess. Camp food. Everybody ate it up, including myself.
I really feel like an outsider. All of these people are drifters. Nobody has a home. They just go from gathering to gathering. I'm anxious since we have to find a ride to the bottom of the mountain tomorrow. They're really different people. Dirty with long hair, beards, and dread locks. I hear there will be a drum circle tonight. I hope so.
I want to meet these people but I don't feel welcome. There are strange people everywhere, about 500 or so of them. It makes me miss home.
It's interesting to hear the stories that these people have experienced. They've been everywhere. I hope I have a home when I get to their ages. I'd say most are at least 25. I hope I have a family at their ages. I'll travel a lot, but I'll need a place where I feel safe. Right now that place is 2100 miles away.
The last couple of hours have been really strange. Chris fell asleep so I went to the frame work of a cabin they're building. There is a fire there. I was watching these people. Generally, they are older men in their mid-40s, they all smoke, and they don't seem to be very smart. I talked to two of them. One has a wife and kids in TN and he left them in December to com here. (It was late June or early July). The other told me about when his father's business was in trouble and he had to go work in a suit and tie. A man and his wife were fighting. She's crying now. He was really mean to her but I'm surrounded by all his peers. I wanted to do something when he was yelling at her. He said to her, "I'm gonna say it on more fuckin' time politely, Get out of my Goddamn face, please!"
Then Chris woke up and we went to the other camp about 500 yards up the hill. There were about 150 people there in a circle, maybe more. Everybody was holding hands and they started humming. I hummed a little. Then they cheered and passed around a hat for a collection. It didn't look like they made much. They call each other 'brother' and 'sister.'
I'm not scared anymore, as much as I was when I first arrived. This guy started praying and the man next to Chris shouted out loud, "Thank God!" as in, "Thank God for this food." Then about a dozen people started walking around the circle with buckets. They gave each person a scoop of whatever was in the bucket. It was some kind of slop, for as well as I could tell.
These people have hitch-hiked thousands of miles to get here. They've come in school buses, VW buses, vans, Jeeps, on bikes, and motorcycles. Some walked. A school bus just rolled in with 25 or more people. I am amazed. It's some kind of cult I think.
When some one pulls up to the first camp, everybody yells, "Welcome home!" This place is weird. We're getting a ride back to Tres Piedres at 6 am in the same Jeep that drove us up. I can't wait.
We were walking back from that other camp and two guys were walking the other way. They asked us if we had anything to trade. I asked what he was looking for. "Hallucinogens or buds," he said.
We're back by the fire. This old Indian man who wears handcuffs just sits and bitches like crazy. He's really mean and then he laughs. He seems really tough. He wears a cowboy hat. A black one, and black jeans and suede cowboy boots with a flannel jacket. A few of these men seem like they're real (American) Indians. Good looking people, but these ones are bitter and tough.
The Indian man talks like some old chief. He's a slow talker and he has an accent. He was telling us how people fear what they don't understand. Actually, he had a pretty good point.
Day 30: Tres Pieres, NM to near Chama, NM (63.1 miles, 2249.0 total, 40.9 mph max)
Not too bad a day. We got to the highest point on our trip (10,500 ft) and just cruised down. We had to wake up at 5:30 am to get out of that crazy place, though. Chris and I were arguing and I got pretty bummed; missing home.
New Mexico is the only state I haven't been dying to get through. It's beautiful here. Chris made a snowman at the summit.
The experiences we had in New Mexico were, I think, profound. After Chris's bike was essentially unrideable, a bike shop on wheels showed up with parts, tools, and expertise. I was able to see the mountains like I'd never seen before. And, I got to hang out with a thousand drifters in a remote spot in Kit Carson National Forest. It was honestly like I'd stepped onto a different planet, but as a kid in my 20s I needed to be exposed to places and people like I was in New Mexico. I think I made some long-term decisions on that mountain.
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