Day 13: Gripping the Handlebars

I am in Mayhill, New Mexico, tonight, with almost 4,100 miles behind me.  While I listen to U2’s Magnificent, I look back at a day that was suppossed to be just a travel day.

This morning I was in Durango, Colorado, and while I was packing the sleeping bag in to the dry bag, along with the tent stuff, I had a hard time completely twisting the edges of the blue, waterproof sack in order to make sure that water would stay out.  However, having checked the weather forecast at multiple locations along my track I said to myself ‘Its OK.  It will be a dry day’.  Well from that you already know what happened later.

I followed my usual routine, loading up the bike, and gearing up.  Just before setting out though, I did one of the old routines of opening up the bible to a ‘random spot’.  It turned out the be Revelations 15.  In it, John describes an amazing landscape, as the hosts of the Lord sing songs of praise, plus some other less appealing things.  The description of God and the landscape filled my heart with awe, and I was ready for a day that would take me across habitats and geology of great beauty and variety.

I set off on 550 and left Durango heading south.  This road gave me some more of the beautiful agrarian landscape that I had seen yesterday.  Especially amazing was the effect of the early morning sun rays agains the long sprinkler lines that move on wheels, forming gigantic crop circle.  As the sun light hit the water sprays, which come out in a downward angle, the effect was that of a huge prism, breaking the light into all of its colors, and creating moving rainbow.

It did not take long to make into New Mexico.  The landscape changed quickly, with the mesas appearing in the horizon, and the bushy desert dominating the picture.

Towards mid morning I made into Cuba. By the way, it is amazing how many towns or cities are named Cuba in this country.  Many years ago, passing through Cuba, NM, I noticed that there was a place to eat at called Cuban Cafe.  To my dismay, they did not serve Cuban coffee there.  This time around, I was ready for what this place was really about, and actually looked forward to stopping there for a late morning breakfast.  I had huevos rancheros with salsa roja, and coffee.  This were the first eggs I have eaten in more than two weeks.  After my meal I told the owner the story of how disappointed I had been 15 years ago, and she said that if is amazing how many people make the same mistake, and even accuse her of false advertising. ‘Get a grip people’, I thought, ‘its a cafe in a town called Cuba’.

The rest of the day seemed to roll along in a very uneventful fashion.  I started to think about all the signs I have seen, and how it seems that shooting at road signs with shotguns is the national passtime.  It gave then ending of Easy Rider a more realistic hue.  I also remembered a sign I saw a few days ago in a small town, for a dental and chiropractic clinic under one roof.  At that moment I thought they should also have added a comedy shop to the business.  That way their moto could be something like “We pull your teeth; we pull your spine; we pull your leg”.  That is what happens to a lonely rider after two weeks on the road.

So everything was just honkey dorey as I rode south, the road sides teaming with yellow and purple flowers.  Then I entered a stretch of road the laid in front of me a vast golden plain.  The tarmac was a straight line that bisected the landscape.  In the far end, the clouds starting forming alarming patterns.  The sun was interruped here and there by clouds that seemed flat and dense.  As I rode into this, I first entered a section where the bottom, flat surface of the clouds was a deep pink.  After that, another patch of sun, but then, the time came to take out the rain suit.  As I rode forward, two red twists of dust formed in front of me.  A bit further down the road, a brother on a deep red Goldwing waved at me and stopped on the side of the road.  I pulled a u-ie and went to confrence with him.  Bottom line, bad wind and rain that way.  I thanked him, turned back in the direction I was headed, and braced myself.  The wind was hitting me from the left, forcing me to tilt the bike against it, and making sure that not only the center section of the tires was being worn out.  After a while I made it to Carrizozo, where a large number of cruisers were congregating, and trying to figure out how to proceed.  Seeing the sky in front of me turn into dark pewter, and cracked wide open by lightning, along with hail falling on me, I decided to sit it out for a while at a cafe.  Many of the brave cruiser riders decided to give it a shot, only to return a few minutes later.

While I sat in the cafe, pondering how to deal with the 90 miles that still layed ahead of me, and would take me into the mountains above Alamogordo, I conferenced with Sandra on the phone, trying to get radar readings.  After about 45 minutes I was able to pull a radar screen that showed the storm tracking away from where I was headed so I decided to give it a go.  All the cruiser riders remained behind.  It seemed like the right decision for a while.  However, it would soon turn into what seemed to be one of those Discovery Channel storm chasing episodes.  The storm had indeed made it past Carrizozo, except that, even at 45 mph, I was traveling faster than the storm was moving.  The scene was gorgeous though.  The sun cut through the clouds from the west, creating golden streams of light at a 45 degree angle.  The wind blew the rain from the east, throwing dark gray streaks at a 45 degree angle in the opposite direction to the sun rays.  Where the sun light  hit the ground, clouds of white-yellow dust lifted up in twisting motion, and above all, what in Spanish we call centellas, lightning flew horizontaly, between clouds.

I rode through this for about 25 miles gripping the handlebars, but it seemed forever, evocative of the Revelations chapter I had read in the morning.  I arrived in Toolarosa where I stopped for gas.  At that point I got on the phone with Coday, the owner of the Lazy Day Cabins, where I was headed.  We had been communicating since earlier, and trying to asses the situation.  At this point he suggested that if I wanted to, I could stay in Alamogordo.  He also said he would reimburse my deposit if I decided to do that.  In the end, we agreed that I would see how things looked and I would get back with him.  I checked with Mr. GPS to see what lodging options wre available in the area, and having found a KOA in the area, I decided that would be a good alternative.  However, as I got closer to Alamogordo, the storm thined out, and things looked very positive.  At the turn for Cloudcroft I made up my mind to pursue the original plan and stated the 4,000 foot ascent up the mountain.  I had to stop at the road side vista site just before the tunnel, where Adelina and I have stopped before, and I remembered how last time I had whistfully watched a guy pull into the parking area on a Honda motorcycle.  This time it was me on the motorcycle, and the BeMWu was a worthy executor of this old dream.

The wonderful and twisty road, full of memories of good times and adventure finally took me into Cloudcroft where I stopped for pizza.  While I was eating, one of the guys at the pizza place shared with me the story of how he was selling his motorcycle, a heavily customized HD Sportster, due to a series of back injuries he had from years of Xtreme biking.  My heart went out to him.  I also met a young autistic boy who asked me if I was there for pizza or if I was a program robot.  I replied that I was a program robot that needed pizza to survive.  We shared a couple of moments, after which we said good bye to each other while I taught him ‘the special hand shake’.

It is this kind of things that I treasure during my road trips.  I miss this kind of thing when I find myself in the life of the big city and the day to day job.

From Cloudcroft I followed the road to the other side of the mountain, and started descending into Mayhill.  The Lazy Day Cabins were on my left, and soon after pulling in I met with Cody.  We talked for a bit, and he showed me his antique camera collection, which he got from his dad.  One of his treasures is this old dual lens camera that took two pictures at the time, and were then placed in a special viewer to create a stereo image. I must say that Cody shows a huge deal of care and thought in the way he deals with people.  For example, knowing that I would be arriving on a motorcycle, and that it had been raining, he set up a two by four in the area where I would park the motorcycle, so that the side stand would not sink in the mud, making the bike tio. I shared with him the reason for my trip during our conversation, and he offered to charge me only half the room rate.  While I initially accepted gratefully, it soon occured to me that here was another opportunity to involve others in the fight against human trafficking.  So, I proposed to him to go ahead and charge me the full rate, and instead he could make a donation to the NotForSale campaign.

The opportunities that I have had in the last two weeks lead me to think that another way to involve people in the fight against slavery is to ‘Barter for Freedom’, exchanging services for donations to organizations that aim to free the captives.