50 - Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Tex-line, Texas. Oklahoma to Liberal, Kansas

After riding through CO, AZ, UT and NM all day, it stunned me when I came upon the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.  They are beautiful and unlike anything I've ever seen.

It was almost six, and I needed fuel.  The was a "town" eight miles ahead and so I turned down this little county road to go to town.  When I arrived, the only thing there was a gas pump that had closed ten minutes earlier.  I was nearly empty.

For the next hour, I rode at 50, then 40, then 35 miles per hour to conserve fuel.  Finally, after sputtering while going around a tight turn, I saw a gas pump and got fuel. 

I was the only non-native in the place.  A guy came up to me to tell me to watch for deer.  No kidding, I thought.  They are everywhere.

Back on the road, I went another 80 miles in New Mexico and over another mountain pass before calling it a night. After averting a critter-collision, I was glad to park the bike after another day of riding during the peak time for animals on the roadway.

Ride along with me and check out the photographs below.

Remember that these, as well as most of the photographs you've seen on my site have all been taken with one hand on the camera and one hand on the handlebars.  As the most un-ambidextrous human alive, I have to take the pictures with my right hand, while riding with the left.  That means no throttle access while in my photography-induced Zen. 

 

The pictures don't show the severity of damage to my skin from the desert sun and sand.  My face was scorched and raw.  I'd gotten lax about wearing sunscreen as it was September, it was annoying to apply, and I was so tan that I didn't think it was possible for me to burn.

However, the desert was a different story.

My nose and cheeks were leathery. I had blisters on my nose. Skin, raw from hours and hours of being sandblasted by 60 mph winds, burns more easily.  At least that's my uneducated theory.

 

I found an amazing campground in New Mexico while riding along a lake.  It was about an hour before sunset, but I stopped anyhow.

I hadn't been off the bike two minutes when a guy walked down to talk to me.  He'd been walking since I pulled into the park.  My spot was a long way from anyone else, but that didn't stop him from walking down to chat.  After hearing twenty minutes of his stories, I kindly reminded him that my camp wasn't setup and then emphasized that I'd just missed sunset!

He was an interesting guy, and it's cool that he and his wife had been on the road full-time for two years, but not so cool that I'd rather listen to him than see a sunset.

Oh well.

Check out the MRE contents.  Beef Stew, Trail Mix, a Pound Cake, Coffee, Cider, Tabasco, and a place setting.

I saved the cider for later and opted for Chamomile Tea.

The silver stuff on my fingers is from my camp stove.  Every night, just before dinner, my hands get filthy from stove grease.  Not old cooking grease, but some sort of lithium lubricant that keeps the moving parts from seizing.  Oh well.  At least my hands weren't clean to begin with.

Last night had been hell.  Yeah, it was cold. Cold doesn't bother me. I woke up in pain from my burnt face. I woke up trembling from pain and was nearly in tears. A zipper from my sleeping bag had touched my nose and I was instantly awake and shaking.  It was not a pleasant way to wake up.

It was a spectacular morning!  My leftover bagel from breakfast with Joy in Durango was perfect.  Warmed and served with scrambled eggs... that beats Wheaties any day!

 

WOW - These folks are serious about collecting the $8 camping fee.

I've not seen spikes since leaving a city.  In fact, I've not seen them on this trip.

To be hundreds of miles from anywhere big and see tire spikes, that's an interesting way to start the day.

It was cold when I left the park, so I kept my speed down by cruising around the lake for awhile.

 

So, people ask me about "near-misses." Or about "scary moments."

Here's the scariest thing that's happened.  It was SO COLD this morning. With my gear gone, I feel vulnerable to cold, rain and to crashes.  So this morning, I had my Alaska Marine Highway System hat on under my helmet. Aside from looking ridiculous, I was uncomfortable too.  The New Mexico mountains are beautiful, and the tricky little roads that wind through them only add to the beauty.  While rounding a curve (40 mph,) my hat suddenly flopped down over my eyes.  I couldn't even see daylight. Utter blackness.  I shoved my gloved finger under the hat and pushed it up. I flopped right down again and I was still unable to see.  I didn't drastically reduce my speed.  I'd thought about scenarios in which I was suddenly unable to see.  It seemed more prudent to ride out the blindness at the same speed because I could use memory to navigate the line. 

By the time I was able to see again, I'd ridden several hundred yards during ten seconds or so of blindness.  I was totally freaked out.  What a way to start the day.

Nothing better than getting back in the saddle and tackling tough roads.  So down the road I went.

 

 

 

Just when I though I'd seen it all, I came around a corner to find a house in the middle of the road.  Why not? I've seen just about everything else in the middle of the road.

Coming around a blind mountain curve to see the road washed out with sand is also an experience many bikers never have.  Ride long enough and you'll see it all.

This town is intense!  The roads are tiny and houses are built right up to the road.  There isn't room for two cars.  Blink and you'll miss it.  A few houses in the middle of a beautiful, but largely uninhabitable desert are inspiring.

Suddenly, the pavement ended.  I'd had enough adventure and the sun was getting high.  Thankfully, I've perfected the art of hanging a U-turn on gnarly gravel while maneuvering a 1,000 pound bike with white knuckles and knocking knees.

Actually, it's not that hard anymore and it's not even scary.  It's just that it's so remote out here that a mistake would totally change my day... and not for the better. 

 

Back to land with people.  I made it to Taos.  While gassing up, I parked next to a cop's bike and then browbeat a cop into conversation.  He tried pretty hard to make me go away, but I was in the mood to talk motorcycles.  I didn't need protection, so I insisted that he serve.  Finally, he warmed up and we talked for awhile (as if he had a choice.) 

He didn't have anything else to do... but ride around and burn free gas. 

He'd ridden just about everything, and after a bit, he seemed content in believing that I could ride too and so it wasn't beneath him to talk to me. 

Although, he did keep referring to his Bimmer as "the finest machine ever made for serious riders."  I guess he didn't think my Old Wing was fine, nor did he take me seriously.

Lighten up bro... you live in Taos and ride motorcycles for a living. 

I asked for a recommendation and he sent me to the best Tex-Mex Fusion place I've ever been to.  Correction: the best reasonably-priced Tex-Mex place.  It was delicious!

He and his cage-driving cop buddy were really cool.

Cimarron - Where the Rockies meet the Plains.

And just like that, I was out of the mountains and riding the Great Plains.

It was so nice to relax.  I pointed my bike straight and didn't worry about pavement conditions, about blind curves, or about out-of-control cars.

 

 

I don't know if I saw 1,000 deer today.  I do know that I didn't just see several.  I saw hundreds at the least.  Over a thousand seems plausible. I'd see 50-80 mule deer, and then minutes later, I'd see 50-80 more.  That happened for hours.  It was incredible riding.

It has been a very long day.  I rode for well over 12 hours. 

 

 

My atlas showed a State Grassland Preserve with a campground in Texas. After 20 miles of gravel at sunset, I realized that there was no park.  It was nearly dark and deer were everywhere. I had to get off the road. 

There were scary things that happened during the last couple of weeks, but they were fleeting and then over.  Now, I was scared.  Visibility was gone. Deer were everywhere. I saw something in the road and slowed down and rolled within 20 yards of a deer.

I had to get the bike parked.

As I sat at a T in the road at dark, I knew there as a town in 25 miles whether I went right or left. I didn't want to go twenty miles period.

A kid in a big 'ole truck turned near me and I flagged him down.  It reminded me of the guys I talked to while in ND, the day before I rode along the river and ended up in Pollock, SD.

Unlike those boys, this kid didn't hesitate to help me out.  He was probably 16 or so, and knew the area well.  There was a place along the road about 150 yards away and he suggested that I camp there. I wasn't excited about breaking the law in Texas.  I've heard stories.

But, hitting a deer in Texas is certainly bad.  Breaking a law in Texas is only bad if you get caught. One of those gray areas.  The kid told me that the sheriff is pretty nice and would probably let me go, so I went over and prepared to set up camp in the dark. 

 

Just to make a point that I wasn't trying to be sneaky, I set up my tent right next to the sign that read "No Camping. Overnight Stay Prohibited. Violators will be fined $1,000."

After setting up camp at 9:30, I crawled into my tent, sans dinner, and went to sleep. 

Since I had no idea when sunrise was, I set my alarm for 5:30 so that I could be packed and gone at first light.  Unfortunately, sunrise wasn't at six, or even at seven.  At 7:15, daylight broke and I rode toward Kansas.

I was very glad that I hadn't gotten on my bike at 6:00, or continued to town the night before.

Deer used the road that morning more than vehicles. 

I was back in the land of Whitetails too.  Pretty cool after seeing only Mulies for awhile.

I'd made a  point to visit Vietnam Memorials.  So I stopped at this one somewhere in KS, OK, or TX.  Pretty sure it was in OK.

On my way back from Maine, just before making NC, I ran into a thunderstorm and stopped at an Applebees in Lynchburg, VA. Sitting there drinking a beer, a biker walked in and we started talking.  In the beginning of my trip, such encounters were new and memorable.  By now, I was having such meetings several times each day.

 

Anyhow, I talked with this guy and we started sharing cross-country traveling stories.  He told me of Liberal, Kansas.  The worst place in the world.  He described his time there as awful.  As I realized that I was going to ride across Kansas, I knew that I had to check it out.  So off I went.

This guy had worked in the slaughterhouse after his motorcycle broke down.  For nearly a month, he worked until he saved enough to continue on. 

I stopped first at the Harley dealer to replace the Throttle Lock that I'd lost in AK.  The one I bought from Brother Harry in Sturgis had served me well, and I wasn't about to set off across Kansas without one. 

The guy at the dealer told me that National Beef processes nearly 10,000 heads of cattle each day.

Billions and Billions served... the beef has to come from somewhere.

The train yard around the plant is really impressive.

 Check out my new toy in action!

With my knee up, I can rest my hand on my knee and totally control my 1,000 pound beast with two fingers.

My fingers did get very strong from doing so.

It was nice riding Kansas roads that were so simple to ride that I could take pictures of my hands while flying down the pavement.

 

By the way, the sign above is far from true.  The food was great, the beer was ice cold, I I didn't have to wait a minute for either.

The place was packed with a lunchtime crowd and the guy that sat next to me insisted that I try some "fry sauce."

Strange stuff.  I like ketchup (as do most Americans that consume French Fries,) but in Liberal Kansas, people put fry sauce on their fries.  Wanna try it a home?  Take ketchup and mayonnaise and mix the two.  Better yet, get over your urge to try the nasty stuff and stick with ketchup.

 

Next: Birthday in Wichita, Family in KC, and World Cup Weekend at I-70 Speedway