Cycling the Wagons

I had such a great time in Santa Fe staying with some awesome people. I got off to a late start because I was having such a nice conversation with my last host. The most interesting route for me to continue on is to follow the corridor of the old Santa Fe Trail, which caravans of oxen-pulled covered wagons used to take. Passing some of the different landmarks they relied on to find their way through the vast expanse of the west would be a great experience.

The ride out of town involved riding a bit of the Interstate to climb out of one last mountain range, the Sangre de Cristo, before getting into the high plains. The day started out pleasant but dark clouds soon built up as I approached the Glorieta Pass. Being pelted with heavy cold drops, I exited the freeway and sought refuge under a highway viaduct. It wan't long before a flash flood developed and the little road I was standing on turned into a river of muddy water. I was up on my tip-toes trying not to get most of my shoes wet for about half an hour. I must have looked like a poor drowning rat, a woman from Seattle who had parked her car just off the ramp also to avoid the deluge felt so sorry for me that she insisted that I take a bag of candies, "to keep me warm".

A mountain pass, highway construction, and a storm thrown in for good measure

This is the part of the song where the desert turns to sea

Once over the pass I got on to the old original highway towards Las Vegas NM (definitely no resemblance to the Nevada city). A small cafe along the way at Ribera came highly recommended so I decided to stop for a meal. The serving was huge, I could only eat part of it so I packed it up for later.

I guess I lost track of time, as it had grown dark on my approach to Las Vegas. There was a KOA at the outskirts of town, but they were asking $35 just to camp in the damp ground and the skies were promising more rain. I strapped on my headlamp and continued another 14 kms to find a dry motel. I found one just in time to avoid another soaking.

The next morning was bright and sunny but big fat cumulous clouds in the distance presented an ominous sign of an afternoon storm. Before heading off, I couldn't help but look around the old town of Las Vegas and its historic Plaza. This being the 4th of July holiday weekend there was a fiesta going on, so I took an hour to join in on the party.

I had an overdose of smilies for breakfast

I had a good tail wind, and with the flatter terrain I was going at a good clip. Mid way on my day's ride was Wagon Mound, a significant landmark on the Santa Fe Trail. The place gets its name from a large mesa that resembles the shape of the very covered wagons that plied the trail. The Apaches would often attack the wagon trains here, but today I was being ambushed by a thunderstorm. I ducked under an overpass, and watched as lightning bolts repeatedly struck the mesas ahead. It took a good hour for the storm to rumble over, and I waited a bit more for the road to drain and avoid getting splashed by passing vehicles.

New Mexico has some amazing highway rest stops, this one even has fireplaces

I got to the sleepy town of Springer with lots of daylight to spare. The woman looking after the campground was worried another storm was coming, but I took my chances. No one else was there, I guess everyone else went in search of more exciting places to be in for Independence Day. I went out to the only open diner on the main street and chatted with the owner until closing time.

In the morning, I prepared myself for the long 135 km haul across a stretch of open plain with nothing but a small store in the middle of nowhere. I had a powerful tailwind on my side, though, and aside from the occasional climbs up some ravines, I was passing mile posts at a good rate. I was relieved to find out that the small mercantile store at Gladstone was open for the 4th of July, and that they were serving up the brisket sandwiches that the folks in Springer kept talking about.

One last look at the Rockies fading behind me

They said it was "flat" up ahead, but the hills were 5 miles long

Brisket sandwich and a sarsaparilla :)

I continued riding with the wind and got to Clayton earlier than I expected. I was hoping to camp out in their city park (which has free sites) but there was a rodeo going on for the holiday. I got a motel room just a bit away from the noise, but still with a good view of the evening's fireworks display.

Clayton's Main Street