Day 41: Brazos Ridge to Ojo Caliente - 40+ miles
I had a less than restful night as the lightening continued until the very early hours. I would be woken by a flash of light and I'd then count off the time to the thunder to see how close it was. Fortunately, they were usually some distance away, but in spite of that the pyrotechnics were still impressive and the night passed very slowly.
In the morning it was still raining which alternated with ball bearing sized hail so I was in no rush to emerge from the tent. I worked on yesterday's journal and had a leisurely breakfast of cold cereal, preserving my water in case I had trouble getting some later in the day. Fortunately, I've never been a slave to food.
By 09:00 I was packed up and ready to go ... but where? The map had the statement "road may be impassible during wet weather" which is why I had hoped to make it off the road to the "good gravel surface" the previous day. When I got my bike to the road it was clear that their warning was not without merit. When I stood on the surface it oozed over my shoes so it would be even worse with a laden bicycle with a smaller contact area.
How to describe the next 9 miles which took me 3.5 h to cover? It was very challenging to say the least. It alternated between pushing/pulling the bike through the mud; cycling where possible by riding in the ruts where the surface had been eroded down to the base; and sometimes going off the road to pull the bike through the scrub by the side of the road.
Besides having my clothes covered in mud half way up to the knee, I was splattered with mud on my jacket, helmet and glasses. I was a sight. The photos below show you my bicycle.
The mud was unlike anything I've ever encountered before. It was a thick and it coagulated like blood. In the photo above you can see my bike's drive train. I rode through puddles and used the water to get rid of the mud, but it was soon back clogging everything up. After only 0.5 miles my odometer stopped working. Even though I used some of my water to clear the front derailleur, it eventually stopped working so I lost my smallest front chainring.
I had to disconnect my brakes and remove the fenders since they quickly became clogged with mud which made it impossible to have the wheels turn. About every half mile, often less, I would use a stick to remove the piled mud. Needless to say it soon became tedious.
The photos below give an idea of the road condition, but it really needed to be experienced to be believed.
As I mentioned earlier, there were some instances when I was able to ride and had this not been the case I would have spent the whole day covering the 9 miles. Unfortunately, the ruts were often 300 mm deep and my front panniers would get caught on the sides, sort of like in the above photograph. I was thrown off my bike 6 times, but at least with the road being soft mud the impact was soft. I was quite the sight.
To cut a very long story short it was head down, tail up and just persevere. Like all bad things it came to an end, and this was heralded by a pickup truck from Montana. I had stopped for a food break and he drove up. Smart fellow, he had chains on his tyres and so was able to make progress through the mud. I'd seen them used on snow before but not this way. He told me that the gravel road was about 0.2 miles ahead. It was ironic that the first vehicle of the day arrived when I had made it through the worst. And, as the saying goes, it could have been worse ... it could have been raining.
After cycling onto the gravel road I stopped to do a final cleaning of my bicycle. It was in very bad shape. I was down from 27 to about 10 gears, and in spite of my best efforts the mud was clogging up the wheels, gears, chain and the brakes. It was riding very poorly with terrible sounds coming from the back hub. Very inauspicious. My map indicated that the next road was "potentially mucky" and we should use the highway if wet. There was no way that I was going to submit my bicycle to more of this, I'd have to walk the rest of the route ... The only problem was that the map ended before the highway so I was going into an unknown area.
Just then another vehicle drove up, this one a very flash Humvee towing a trailer. An ideal vehicle given the road condition. They were hunters from Texas and the trailer was full of dead animals. At least it was a closed trailer. I asked them if they had a map and although it was a large scale I was able to establish that if I went off the route I would be able to get back onto it again after heading south.
Even though my bicycle was riding like a dog, the cycling was quite pleasant. In fact after what I had been through almost anything would be great. One big plus was that I didn't have to keep my eyes a few metres in front of me and I could appreciate the open terrain and the panoramic views.
As I went down a hill I passed a hunters campground. They were very patriotic and had even run up an American flag. At that point my front brake started squeeling. On one side it was scratching the rim -- a sure sign the pad was finished. I washed off some more of the mud and managed to replace the pad with one of my spares. Glad that I had the spares, it was the last thing I thought I would need. My bike was really suffering.
As the afternoon progressed the usual wind came up. Fortunately, it was from the south and I was hending east, so I was able to make good time. I continued on 87 instead of going onto the "mucky" route. I made slow progress, although without a working speedometer I had no idea how far or how fast I was travelling.
Eventually, I saw traffic in the distance which I took to be Highway 285. One of the problems in the desert is that you can see a very long way and it took an interminable length of time to reach the road. Just as I approached the intersection I came upon a herd of cattle with two cowboys herding them. I asked where the nearest services were and they indicated about 12 miles south. I was hoping to find a garage and a place to wash the mud off so that I could do some repairs on my bike.
I then turned south into a very strong headwind. Fortunately, there was a wide shoulder so when the wind gusted and blew me around I was able to keep clear of the traffic. Unfortunately, it vanished after a few miles so the remaining distance was not much fun, particularly with all the heavy trucks.
There was a picnic area so I used the opportunity to stop and get rid of more mud, this time from my shoes. It had hardened to the point where I was able to knock it off. I was a mess.
Eventually, I reached the thriving metropolis of Tres Piedras which was basically a gas pump, diner (closed) and a traffic signal at the intersection of Highways 285 and 64 I was disappointed to say the least. I went into the gas station and bought some muffins, an energy drink and a map of New Mexico. It was great to be out of the wind.
The woman running the place was not overly helpful when I asked if there was anywhere to camp nearby. She suggested I cycle 6 miles or so down the highway where there was a layby. The way my bike was riding I doubted that I could make it. It was in very bad shape. My rear hub sounding like I was grinding something. It was a lot worse than when I was in Wyoming and it was obvious that the mud had worked its way into the hub unit and done some damage.
A fellow came out of the store and asked if I had been biking in the mud. I told him that he should have seen it before I cleaned it. Like most people who hear of my trip he was amazed/impressed at what I had done so far. He suggested that I camp at the forest ranger headquarters down the road. His neighbour Paul worked for the service and he was certain that it would not be a problem. I told him that I would head over and he promised to warn his neighbour.
I called my parents to check in and was about to leave when a black pickup truck drove up. It was Paul who worked for the forestry service and he had kindly driven over to tell me it was fine to camp out. Like most people I've met, he was keen to do anything to help me out. I do like travelling in America. I contrast them to people from other countries I've travelled in where they are completely disinterested and unhelpful.
A woman came up and spoke with Paul. Stephanie and her husband had been doing an archeological survey under contract to the forestry services and got stuck in the mud so the missed the deadline to leave their ATVs at the forestry services yard. Paul was equally helpful with them and when I arrived at the station they were parking the ATVs.
Stephanie came over and offered to take me to Ojo Caliente which was a hot spring about 30 miles south. While I was not keen on leaving the route by that much, it was close to Sante Fe where there were bike shops and there would also be water so I could give the bike a good clean and hopefully fix some of the problems. We pitched my bike into the back of their pickup and headed south.
I pitched my tent in the campground and then went over to the hot pools. It was great to have a spa and a hot shower. The pools were very neat, especially with the cliffs to the back lit up. It was quite relaxing and it was also great to finally get rid of all the mud. Unfortunately, I only had an hour before they closed but it was enough to make me forget some of the travails of the morning. With my body and soul attended to, all I now needed to do was to get my bike working again.