Day 6

As you can surmise by reading this, I did not go to Cloudcroft and camp. I have ended up in Silver City and I am glad I did for reasons that will become apparent as you read this installment.

This morning at the hotel in Alamogordo I ran in to one of the older fellows who had been admiring my GS the day before. He was a biker who had recently fractured his ankle and is currently off the bike. While his ankle ails him his enthusiasm for riding remains. He again encouraged me to make the ride to “Silver” and said I would not regret the road (#152) through the Gila National Forest. I told him I would think about it and then I was off to do a few loads of laundry.

As I sat in the laundromat I looked at my maps and decided I needed to do the Gila ride since it was early in the week. I decided to keep pushing west and then later in the week turn east and cover some of eastern new Mexico.

I left Alamogordo and went south on Highway 70 to Las Cruces. The best I can say about 70 is that it is efficient. Your life will not suffer if you never ride this road. Just straight four lane at 75 mph. I reached Las cruces quickly. It is an aerospace city with NASA’s imprint everywhere. If you are inclined there are museums and tours of the facilities. I had riding on my mind so I moved on.

I picked up 185 on the outskirts of Las Cruces and rode the back roads for the rest of the day. If you wonder what really large scale agriculture is you need to go out west and drive through some of this farm country. I crossed the Rio Grande numerous times today. That little river (It’s a trickle compared to the Ohio or the Mississippi) supplies water for hundreds of thousands of acres of crops. Pecan orchards are everywhere as well as other crops which I did not know. Irrigation channels are everywhere. Water is the key to the economic survival of New Mexico as far as farmers are concerned.

At one point I passed a farm that had dozens of the largest rooster boxes I had ever seen. These things were four feet tall and six feet long. “These guys are raising the biggest fighting chickens I have ever seen”, I thought to myself as I rode. A little while later I saw many dozen more on the horizon so I slowed to see just what these chickens looked like.I was about to stop when a holstein dairy cow stuck her head out of one of the chicken boxes. The boxes were really heat shelters for dairy herds. And I thought they were raising fighting chickens on steroids.

By early afternoon I stopped for gas in Hatch, NM. I saw a little restaurant with some bikes parked in front. After gassing up I went back to the  restaurant , The Pepper Pot, to have lunch. I met three bikers there who were from Great Britain. We talked for a few minutes and then they were on their bikes and gone. I liked the looks of this place so I decided t have one of their burritos. My waitress was the owner of the place. She was anglo and straight out of a Woody Allen movie in a Diane Keaton, southwest, LSD sort of way. She was very pleasant and conversant until her side of the conversation began to veer off beam. She ended up telling me and a few others she had recently bought a new house that was perfect for her and her two recently domesticated coyotes. They had taken to the place although her two monkeys were not sold on their new home as of yet.

Which put me to wondering…

How is  it I have run in to so many people who are just outright nuts on this trip? Is it them or have I inadvertently consumed something that has taken me on an altogether unplanned trip. My son says I am a dead ringer for the cartoon character Ned Flanders so is it possible that when people see me they see this Ned guy and just proceed to yank my chain? I’m wondering…

I left monkey woman and headed for route 152 and the Gila National Forest. The old gentleman was right. This is one heck of a road. I started out counting the curves but quit at 100. It dawned on me that counting curves is a lot like asking someone how many acres they own or how much money they have saved for retirement. It’s just rude. If you ride just say it’s a good road and that ought to be enough. Sorry if you have caught me counting curves before.

I hit 152 just as a storm was brewing. I found out later my British friends made it through before the storms. I got hit with it’s full force at 7,000 feet. It made those switchbacks and S-curves real work. I took my time and enjoyed the ride.

I made it in to Silver City at supper time. When I pulled up to the newly restored Murray Hotel (Also recommended to me by Old Gentleman) there were already 20 plus bikes parked out front. These were not your typical Harley’s parked at the curb. Not one Harley. Not one. All were GS’s, Tenere’s, Interceptors, Triumphs and other sport bikes. I even saw two scooters.

As I was dismounting the GS three Brits came up to me and began quizzing me on my yellow Aerostitch gear. They really liked it but confessed they still wore all black. Turns out they were part of a group of 23 Brits who had shipped their bikes to Key West and were riding from there to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. These are some hardcore guys. All were in their late 50′ to 70’s. They were retired police officers, soldiers and lawyers. I liked these guys! They invited me to meet them at the pub down the street for dinner.

After a quick shower, off I went to the pub where I had a jolly good time with Klempke (A diminutive Irishman who reminded me of the soldier types you see in old war movies), Sam and Dan. After a convivial beer or two I asked Klempke what he thought of Charlie Boorman. He shrugged and said “I don’t really give him much of a thought except that he’s rich and he’s Ewan McGregor’s mensch.” So much for diplomacy. Klempke then asked me if I knew who Nick Sanders was. I replied that I of course knew who he was and that he is the real deal when it comes to riding long and hard. Klempke said “That’s good because Nick is a close friend of mine and he’s sitting right behind you.” I turned around and sure enough, there sat Nick Sanders. Sanders, it seems, owns the tour company that puts on these tours and personally escorts them. Klempke would have none of it but to introduce me to Sanders. He was very gracious and willing to talk. I was wearing my “I’m Still Here Tour 2015” shirt and he wanted to know what it was. I explained to him that I was a cancer survivor and this ride was my celebration of life. He thought that was really cool. I got handshakes all around from the group and two of them accompanied me back to the bar to regale me about the four, count em’ , four speeding tickets one of them had received on the tour so far. Turns out he is an ex-CSI from London, England and when he shows the “sheriffs” his badge they throw the tickets away.

All in all it was a lot of fun with my fellow riders from across the pond. I would have missed out on this experience entirely had I not listened to “Old Gentleman” and ridden to Silver City. I would also have missed out on monkey woman.

I’m not sure where I’m going tomorrow. Right now it is raining a flood that would float Noah’s ark, so weather will have something to do with my plans.

Be safe and bless you all,
Brian