I had a great visit with my brother in Santa Fe. Wednesday night we were able to do a little hike up into the mountains. We could see smoke from the wildfire currently burning up near Los Alamos. On Thursday, John spent the entire day with me when he should have been working (he does custom cabinetry and furniture, absolutely museum quality work). By begging, borrowing and renting, he was able to gather enough equipment for me to be able to go on a bicycle ride with him. I had on my own glasses, shorts, socks, and sports bra. The bicycle and helmet were rented, the shoes were borrowed from a friend of John's and the jersey and gloves were John's. We did a 50 mile route north to the Pojoaque Indian reservation and back. Now, I could make all kinds of excuses (I live at sea level and we were riding at 7000+ feet elevation, the bike didn't fit me right, the shoes were flexy, I haven't ridden for 9 days, etc., etc.,) but I was slow and I suffered! John very graciously waited for me and constantly rode in front to block the wind. I loved being out getting some exercise, but it was painful. Despite drinking far more water than I would ordinarily, my legs were heavy and I cramped badly. But I would do it again in an instant.
I had dropped off my motorcycle at BMW of Santa Fe in the morning to have the oil and filter changed. They had it done when promised and it seemed to run better on my short ride back to John's. The moto has been doing great the whole trip. It doesn't burn oil and the tires I had put on just before the trip (Michelin Pilot Road II's) haven't lost air pressure and have performed beautifully.
After saying a teary goodbye to John (seeing him reminds me that we are only two now instead of three), I headed north on US-285 toward Colorado. The high desert terrain is pretty stark. There are several native american reservations or pueblos in northern New Mexico and eking out a living in such a landscape has to be very difficult. Early on I did cross the Rio Grande, a river I usually associate with Texas.
Almost immediately after crossing the New Mexico - Colorado state line, the mountains become visible on the horizon. Despite some haze, one of the first things I could see were the white caps of the higher peaks. It's hard to fathom there is still snow this late into June when the valley floor temperatures are in the 90's, but it's also hard for me to fathom 14,000 foot peaks! I stopped briefly in Alamosa, the first town of any size on my route. There is a good visitor's center there very well stocked with maps and tourist literature. From Alamosa, I took the shorter CO-17 which rejoins US-185 further north. Everywhere I looked was worthy of a postcard. Unfortunately, there is nowhere safe to pull off the road to take pictures. Hopefully some of the smaller roads we will be on in the next week will have less traffic.
Around the area of Poncha Springs, traffic really started to bog down. There are numerous rafting companies in the area, taking advantage of rapids on the Arkansas River. They use decrepit school buses towing trailers full of rafts to take clients to the launching point. They also seem to have a maximum speed of 30 mph. It was around this time that I noticed how many RV's were on the road and of the remaining vehicles, only about 1 in 10 was a "car" not a pickup or SUV. The pattern continued as I got closer to Denver.
US-285 eventually turns more east. I stopped one more time about 30 miles outside Denver for what I thought would be a quick turn around. I only needed water. One guy started talking to me before I had even shut the engine off, admiring my moto. Another one inside the store carried on for the longest time about all the places outside of Colorado I should ride. When I finally got back out, a third guy stopped to ask me about my motorcycle. I'm glad it attracts so much admiring attention, but I just wanted water and to get back on the road!
These last 30 or so miles descend and descend down to Denver. The temperature rose about 1 degree for every 2 miles. A good distance and what would have been the most fun part of the descent was on grooved concrete road. They must do this to improve water run-off, but it made it a little sketchy on two wheels. Safely down, I slogged across the suburbs of Denver to my hotel. Paul arrives tomorrow and I am so looking forward to seeing him.
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