Day two started much like the first. Mostly normal. I awoke about 7:00am local time which is about right as I am an hour behind. I got up and began getting loaded up. On the road by 9:00. It was an absolutely beautiful morning in Roswell, NM.
After topping off the tank, I headed north towards I-40. The scenery was much the same as the day before. A whole lot of nothing and the road went on forever, mostly straight. Flat just about everywhere except to my left. What I believe to be Haystack Mountain loomed in the distance and aside from that there was nothing to see but telephone poles and cattle. Oh, and trains. The cattle ranged in numbers from 3 to 2-3 dozen, and even one very large group of 50+. Sometimes they were hanging out by the fence line, other times they were scattered in the distance. I found myself wondering where these animals came from, who they belonged to. There wasn’t a single structure or ranch in sight. I came to the realization that these cows must be wild. Yes, these are wild cows. (No I don’t really believe they were wild cows).
The trains started slow. One to my left, then another on my right. I rode about 80 miles, passed about 8 vehicles going my direction and a dozen or two going south. No signs of civilization anywhere. I eventually came to a small town called Vaughn. Hit THE gas station for a bathroom break and some water. As I rested my butt and drank my water, a BNSF train rolled through behind the station (photo). They were pulling what I assume was coal. 125 fully loaded cars, I counted. As I counted, another train rolled by in the opposite direction. I finished my water, and my counting, and continued down the road. As it turns out, Vaughn has a small train yard. That and several motels, all with no vacancy as they have all long since been closed down.
I carried on, only a few more miles to I-40 where I head west again. I-40 is also Route 66, pretty kewl. I’d realized by this point there was one more thing I hadn’t seen since leaving Texas. Dust Devils. Dust Devils are quite common in West Texas. You can find them just about anywhere, but you’ll always find them in West Texas. Mini dirt tornadoes dancing across a field. Fun to watch, but you don’t want to ride through one, pucker factor comes in then.
I reach I-40 and expected to see a little more than what I came upon. One gas station. But it’s a good sized one. Dozen pumps and an entire store full of shirts, trinkets, pocket knives and candy. Also has a Subway and it’s own cafe. It’s almost lunch time, and I skipped breakfast again, so I decided to check out the cafe. Couple of young ladies working there and although their English was good, definitely not their first language. Korean I think. I ordered the guacamole burger, sounded tasty. As I waited I struck up a conversation with a young trucker out of Tampa, Fl. He was definitely not originally from Tampa as he had a very distinctive northern accent. Wisconsin. As he ate, and I waited for my order, we discussed our families, our travels and where we were headed.
My burger arrived and was pretty much what I expected. A burger with a large spoonful of guacamole paste. Wasn’t gourmet, but it did hit the spot. Libby’s tank was full, mine was emptied and we were off again. Westbound towards Albuquerque (yes I looked up the spelling). Still not much vegetation. Prairie grass and small bushes. But the land begins to roll. The horizon begins to be harder and harder to find. Hills and valleys begin to appear and a new mountain range is in the distance ahead of me. The blue clear sky was dotted with dozens of puffy, bright white, cotton ball clouds.
I roll into Albuquerque and like any city, it’s no fun. I make it out and the landscape now shows more signs of humanity. Some are current. Some are long lost to time. Dilapidated buildings and cars and RVs long forgotten. Mother Nature and Father Time have taken their toll. As I continue, the deeper valleys and higher hills are found. And the trains increase. They are everywhere now. Two to three at a time, all snaking their way across God’s creation. New road signs I’ve never before seen show up too. “Heavy Gusts May Exist” and a windsock, awesome news to get when on a bike. “Zero Visibility Possible,” wait, what? How? Why? The sun is out! “Blowing Dust Zone Next 10 Miles”. All new to me.
Up to this point the day had been mostly uneventful. That’s kind of how you want it when you’re on a bike. Only one pucker moment so far and it was a 10. The wind. The wind can be quite dangerous. You can’t see the wind. You might see it’s effect on other things, trees, grass or flags, but you can’t see the wind. The heavier the bike, the less effect wind will have. With me and my gear strapped to her, Libby’s probably 1200lbs. That’s a lot of weight to push around. A large gust came out of nowhere and violently shoved me from the right lane into the left and back again. A passing vehicle would have been disastrous. I began watching the vegetation in front of me, searching for the slightest movements.
As I came closer to the Arizona state line I noticed rain in the distance. The road had begun to twist and turn so determining whether or not it was in my path was difficult to judge. A gas stop, water/bathroom break and weather check. Looks like I might get lucky. Weather map shows a small cell to the north of my route and a slightly larger one to the south. Yeah, I’ll get out OK. HA! Man was I overconfident. The farther I rode the worse the cloud cover in front of me got. But still, I could see the rain. A patch to the left and a patch to the right. The road has got to go right through the middle of them. There’s also no lightning, a plus. Rain I can handle. Wind I can handle. I’ll ride 30mph if need be. But lightning? Oof.
I’m about 40 miles to the border and the rain drops start. Shit. Backpack’s not covered. And I’m not geared up. I hit the shoulder immediately. Pull out my supersized ziploc and get the laptop bag covered. Then I work on me. Getting my rain suit on is no quick feat. Takes a minute. I go into a small rain panic. “OK, bag’s covered but I’m getting wet. That means cold. Put on the the jacket. Dammit, no. Can’t do that, pants have suspenders. Gotta get the pants on now!” I cussed aloud. Used the Lord’s name even, and apologized. But I got it done, and continued. Today’s rain incident wasn’t near as long as yesterday’s. Ten maybe twenty minutes. Wind was minor and no lightning. The dark wall above me finally gave way to blue skies and more cotton ball clouds. I gave a quick, “Thank God,” look to the heavens and carried on.
Drawing closer to the border I reach more canyons and slow, easy turns. More rain looms in the distance. Five miles out the rain begins again. I’m still suited up so no stop and this rain only lasts about ten minutes. But this rain brings a friend…..HAIL. Now maybe you’re asking yourself, “Are your sure? How do you know it was hail?” Well, let me tell you. Rain doesn’t bounce of your chest and it certainly doesn’t bounce off your face. My nose still hurts. So which was worse? 40 miles of downpour and apocalyptic lightning or ten minutes of 60mph hail to the face? I’ll call it a tie.
The rain, and hail, stop right at the border. The sky you see in this photo is the exact opposite of what’s behind me. I debate taking the rain suit off but decided to roll on a little while longer, just in case. I’ve about 100 miles to go and at least another gas stop to make. I make it to Holbrook and can see a wall of rain covering several miles of land in front of me. Stop for gas and a weather check. It’s just outside of Winslow but I can’t tell where it’s headed. I carry on. I reach the state park just outside Winslow and look to check in. The road winds through the desert and the visitor center to check in is a mile farther in from the campground. With heavy rain looming and my campground frustration mounting, I decide to just get another room. Break another rule. Honestly, I think I’m just avoiding being alone. At least in a room I’ve got a TV to keep me company. Distraction.
Yesterday I found myself riding in the right side of the lane a lot. An old habit. You see, on our trips, Dad and I rode in a staggered formation. Lead bike takes the left and the next rider takes the right side about a bike length back. Dad was always the lead bike. But I was better today. I mostly stayed on the left side of the lane. Worked through a lot out there.
Dad always said that being on a bike on the open road was therapeutic. I have wholeheartedly agreed with that since I started riding. “You never see a motorcycle outside a therapists office.” You won’t ever see mine, that’s a guarantee.
But, let’s finish up. Checked into my room, got unloaded and went back to the front desk to ask the touristy questions. “Where’s the corner? What’s good to eat around here?”.
I found the corner. JOM and IHA came along for the photo op. Directly across the street is a gift shop with outdoor speakers playing nothing but Eagles songs. It’s kind of cool, but not much here. If you look closely you’ll notice the building is actually just a wall. But, there IS a flatbed Ford, no girl.
Tomorrow I head towards Vegas. Hopefully without any rain. Tonight? A shower, a few beers and a good night’s rest.
The Motorcycle Diaries of an Easy Rider 