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I had been up late again, busy packing the bike. I had gone through this last-minute packing ritual before, but this time I was taking more tools and spare parts, more clothes, more inner tubes, etc. Making final selection of tools and dividing them into three kits. I keep the most often-needed small tools in the tankbag, immediately accessible. The mid-range tools are in a tool roll in one of the soft bags, and the largest tools are in another tool roll that I keep in the plastic tool tube mounted across the lower part of the bike's frame, behind the front wheel. Many people use a tool tube here, which helps keep some of the weight forward and low.
Don arrived at about 08:30, and we needed an hour to get things sorted out. While we worked, Laurie broke the news to me that Cary, who had helped me with the 685 cylinder fix, had been killed in a motorcycle crash a couple days ago. What a shame. I had talked to him on the phone a couple times, had dozens of email chats with him over the years, but had never met him. That was my loss, I suspect. He seemed a great guy by all accounts. He will be missed.
We ran out of things to delay us, so Don and I posed while Laurie took our photo in the driveway and we headed out. It'll be interesting to see what we look like when the ride is over.
Since we didn't have a firm route planned, we just headed south on back roads until we needed to use I-25 to get into Colorado Springs. US-24 is a familiar road, and a very pleasant one. There was not a single cloud anywhere all day, only a light breeze, and although it was cool, the sun was relentless. Here's a sideways view of Pikes Peak.
At Wilkerson Pass, I stopped for a few photos, but became briefly fascinated by a woman trying to get her Bassett hound to pose just so. The dog just didn't understand why it had to stand on that rock, and was obviously not used to staying when the lady said Stay! The confused hound was unimpressed with her command bearing and kept stepping down from the rock.
A few mundane photos. Sorry, but I hope the photo ops will improve as the ride progresses.
When we got to US-285 we headed south, intending to stay on that roadway until deep into New Mexico. South of Poncha Springs, we had our first unplanned event. I was riding lead, and Don came over the Chatterbox radio saying that he had a serious problem. I went back to find that his rear tire had gone suddenly flat, nearly dumping him. He had managed to get the squirming bike to the shoulder safely, though, and that is where we worked.
We had a few sets of spare tubes, which is good, since Don pinched the first replacement tube right away. We got the second tube in safely and were on our way. Only an hour or so delayed. I kept the pinched tube to patch up later. Actually, it was intended for practice patching. It had several holes in it.
In Alamosa, we went to couple bike shops to stock up on extra tubes. Don was having to re-pack every time he needed to get to anything or add anything to his load, and I can sympathize with him. I had done the same at the start of my Alaska ride, and I had gotten better at putting things where they could be found and retrieved efficiently.
We cruised onward, hoping to be deep into New Mexico by nightfall. I stopped in Manassa, Colorado to take a photo of the sign announcing the Manassa Mauler's hometown.
A while later, we were looking for fuel and the GPS assured us that there was a gas station ahead on US-285. What we found was a former gas station. A gas station no more. A building previously referred to as a gas station. An ex-gas station. It looked like it had been closed for some time. The GPS indicated that the next closest gas stations (there were several clustered together, apparently) were east of us. The road that the GPS kept trying to lead us onto didn't exist, and we doubled back to look for it again. It simply wasn't there. I took a lesser road to the east and had the GPS re-calculate to the nearest fuel. It again tried to guide us to the same station as before, but again the map and the road were not in agreement.
Finally, we decided to turn around and keep going south to Ojo Caliente, the next town on US-285. The GPS didn't indicate that the town had fuel, but it was on the way to the Sante Fe metro area. After we turned around, I stopped to consider the GPS some more. When I looked up a couple minutes later, I saw Don on the side of the road, the bike on its side. He had intended to pull into a convenience store, but the deep gravel on the side of the road had gotten him. The setting sun had obscured the gravel with raking shadows. Don was okay, maybe a sore knee tomorrow. His left hand had been smashed a bit, too. (edit: that sore hand bothered Don for the next six months.) Once I confirmed that he was alright, the next most important thing to do was get the photo. A guy from the store had come out to help Don before I even knew that Don was down.
That turned out to be a fortunate coincidence, since the people at the unexpected convenience store sold gasoline in two-gallon cans for $5 per gallon. We bought two can's worth (and returned the plastic cans) before heading back to US-285.
In Ojo Caliente, we were ready to be done riding. We hadn't intended to ride at night if it was avoidable, but the weather was nice, the road was good, and the traffic was light. The only accommodations we found in Ojo Caliente was a hot springs spa resort. Ojo can mean "hole" as well as eye, so "hot hole" seems to make more sense than "hot eye." The only room they had available was $270. Yeah, right.
We found a perfectly good gas station on the other side of Ojo Caliente as we continued south, so the fuel worry was over. Once we neared Sante Fe (Espanola, actually), there were plenty of places to stay, so we found a motel and after some dinner, we spent some time getting re-organized. Don basically unpacked and repacked his bike, making things more efficient and accessible. I wrote this entry and sent a SPoT signal.
Don and I practiced patching the tube, even punching a couple more holes in it to have more practice time. Between us, we had three different patch kits. I had some conventional glue-and-patch kits and one of the new Scabs pre-glued patch kits. Don had a different Scabs patch kit with larger patches. We'll air it up in the morning to see how we did with the five holes we patched.
The Internet connection at the motel was down due to equipment failure. I still haven't sent out the promised notice to interested readers, but I'll try to get that done at the next opportunity.
We had done 400 miles today.
