April 26-30

I am so tired. 

I've been trying to come up with a better way to start this entry, but those four words keep replaying in my head. I'm writing this on April 30, in my hotel room in Santa Fe. Three of the last four days that I'm now recollecting were tough. Lots of wind and hills, hills, hills. I was so wiped out each night I couldn't write. I could focus only on getting food and getting sleep. The one exception was the second day, April 28, when I had one of those experiences that make you glad to be alive and on a bike. It was a woo-hoo(!) day. But first things first.

April 26

You might recall from my previous entry that I had met another touring cyclist — Colton from Wisconsin — who gave me a scouting report on what lay ahead for me (he was riding in the opposite direction). Colton warned me about the climb out of Gallup — when I would be heading south toward the El Morro National Monument. I liked Colton, but I think he could have been more specific. Or maybe I misunderstood. Whichever it was, the more accurate description of the route would have been that I would have about 30 miles of climbing and descending, gradually increasing elevation in the process — in other words, more climbing than descending. (Total distance for the day's ride was about 60 miles— a little longer than Google Maps' estimate above because of where I started and finished.) What Colton couldn't have warned me about was that I would also have to deal with headwinds and crosswinds that would smack me in the face as I reached the top of a climb. The winds would also slow my descents, forcing me to pedal downhill rather than having a period of restful coasting. When I made the turn east, things got easier, as most of the southwest wind gave me a push and the terrain flattened out a little bit.

I would be staying at the El Morro RV Park & Cabins. On Thursdays through Sundays, the park features the Ancient Way Cafe, a farm-to-table gourmet restaurant written up as one of the best places to dine in New Mexico. Unfortunately, I would be there on a Tuesday. I called ahead to investigate the food options. The answer: there were none. There's a general store across the road, but the owner decided to close the store so he could take off this Tuesday and Wednesday. I was told to stop at the Family Dollar store in the little town of Ramah, about 10 miles away, to get some food I could cook either in my cabin's microwave or on its hot plate. I did as instructed and bought three Knorr-brand pasta and rice dishes — two for dinner, one for breakfast — and a pack of Fig Newtons. (There weren't any other prepared-meal items to choose from that weren't frozen — which would quickly melt in my bike bags.) I got to my cabin at about 4:30 p.m. It had taken me about eight hours to go those 60 miles.  The gentleman I talked to on the phone had informed me that no one would be at the park to welcome me: "Your key will be on the hook next to the number 4." It was. I let myself in. I fixed my fine meals, did a little laundry in the sink, prepared for next day's ride and went to bed.

April 27

After a good night's sleep — although I wished it could have been longer — I awoke to a beautiful day. I stepped out on my cabin's little porch to soak up the early-morning, crisp air and the cacophony of singing birds. I went back in to fix my pasta alfredo breakfast and check the weather report on my phone and the elevation guide on my map. Today would be a shorter day — just 43 miles to Grants, New Mexico. During the night the wind had shifted from the southwest to the southeast. For the first half of the ride I would have a slight crosswind and headwind. For the second half, I would be heading almost straight north, which would be mostly downhill with a slight tailwind.

That prediction did not disappoint. I had only a little climbing and mild winds in the first half.  And soon after my start I crossed the Continental Divide. I'm not sure what the significance of that is, but I did it. 

The last 20 miles or so were a blast — long, gradual downhills with a few short and steep ones mixed in; plus an extra push from the wind, blowing at about 10-15 mph; and also very smooth blacktop. That last stretch lifted my spirits. I arrived at my hotel just before 1 p.m., earlier than expected. I had to wait a few minutes before my room was ready. I usually average 10-11 mph each day. But today, according to my bike computer, my average speed was 15.7 mph with a top speed — from one of the steeper downhills — of 41.7 mph.  Woo-hoo!

When I rode up to my hotel in Grants, I noticed the restaurant next door: the Asian Super Buffet. When I got my room key I asked the woman behind the front desk if she knew anything about the restaurant. "Oh, it's really good," she said. "People who stay here eat there all the time. I like it." As soon as I got cleaned up I went to check it out — at about 2 p.m. To my delight, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. I mounded two plates with a variety of items, taking a lot of green beans and broccoli (I haven't been able to get many green vegetables on this trip). I also noticed that customers were allowed to pack carry-out containers they could take to go (you paid by the pound).  So, at 6 p.m. I made a return visit and got two containers that I took back to my room.

The cashier at the restaurant had tossed a couple of fortune cookies into my bag. The first one I opened told me to "Get in the spirit of the times." That meant nothing, so just before I opened the second one I joked to myself that this one would be the one with the significant message. I can't say it applies to me, but it did make me laugh.

And with that, I got ready for the next day and went to bed. I had near-perfect conditions on the road and I had satisfied my hunger for something other than Mexican food and burgers — which is what most of the restaurants serve in this part of the country.

It had been a great day.

April 28

Given the boost I got from the last half of yesterday's ride, I was hopeful for more. I wasn't disappointed. I was going to be heading to the east and northeast on my way from Grants to Albuquerque.  It would be a longer day, about 75 miles, but the elevation map showed a predominantly downhill run, and my weather apps said I'd have the wind at my back for most of the time. They were accurate. The conditions were practically perfect. The only condition that wasn't predicted — now if somebody made an app for this! — was the condition of the roads I'd be on. Well, what an amazing surprise.  About half of the ride was on the smoothest, most flawless blacktop I've experienced. (Babies' bottoms wish they were this smooth.) The wind was mostly at my back.  I was cruising!

As I neared Albuquerque, I did have to contend with about 23 miles of riding on the shoulder of Interstate 40, which would include a rather steep climb that seemed to go on for a couple of miles. Even with some of the ideal conditions I'd had earlier, being on the shoulder for that many miles was taxing. I seemed to fall into almost a hypnotic state to get through it. I was glad to finally see the sign for Exit 140, where I could get away from the traffic and grab some food at a gas station that had a Dairy Queen and a large convenience store. As I rolled up to the store, I had a strange sensation. It seemed like I didn't remember that much of what I'd just gone through. It was kind of a blur. Was I practically riding while asleep? I may have gotten the answer to that question as I neared the front door of the convenience store and came to a stop. I inexplicably got confused about clipping out of my pedals — something I've done hundreds of times —and toppled over in front of a couple families with small children. I hit the ground and rolled and got up quickly, assuring everyone I was OK. However, my right brake handle (for my rear brake), was bent inward. Fortunately, I was able to push it  back into place with no other visible damage.  I went inside and bought a sandwich, chips and cookies.

When I came out to have my lunch at one of the picnic tables in front of the store, I had another strange experience. A guy was sitting at the table, finishing his cigarette. I asked if I could share the table with him and he obliged. We got to talking. His name was Chris. He asked me about my trip. I replied with what's become my standard response: "I'm following Bicycle Route 66 to St. Louis. Then I'm taking the Great River Road north to the Davenport, Iowa, area, which is my hometown . . ." He interrupted. "You mean the Quad-Cities?"

Whoa.

"How do you know the Quad-Cities?" I asked.

"I'm from there. I lived in Silvis [Illinois]." 

"So, you know Frank's Pizza then?"

"Of course!"

He then proceeded to straighten his right arm, revealing a tattoo of the state of Illinois with "309" — the Illinois Quad-Cities' area code — in the middle, and "Moline" [Illinois] and "I.L." above and below.

"What prompted you to get that?" I asked.

"Well, I was in prison and bored. I wanted something but didn't know what. So I got this."

Chris proceeded to tell me why he was in New Mexico and where he was driving, which I had difficulty following. We wished each other well. He headed back to his car and I went back to my bike.

From there I had about 20 miles to go to my motel in Albuquerque. The elevation map showed a few miles of relatively steep downhill leading into the city. Once again, I enjoyed an exhilarating few miles of not having to turn a pedal.

My lodging in Albuquerque, the Monterey Motel, is paired with an adjacent motel, the El Vado. Both places were once old Route 66 establishments. They've been turned into boutique, hipster places. The El Vado had four "pods" near its pool where different restaurants were serving their respective fare. I did my usual — ordering a pad thai from one place and a carnitas platter from another. I ate half for dinner and saved the rest for breakfast.

Tomorrow would be a challenge: About 70 miles to Santa Fe, where I planned to meet three friends who moved there in recent years. The climb out of Albuquerque would be steep and several miles long, followed by another climb to a small community called Cedar Crest. In all, I would have 30 miles of nearly uninterrupted climbing right out of the motel driveway. Extremely high winds were also predicted to hit Santa Fe by late morning. I wanted to see if I could get to my destination before the high winds kicked in, so for the first time I planned to leave in the dark, before sunrise. That strategy required getting to bed early. I hit the sack at 8:30 p.m. and set my alarm for 3:30 a.m.

On this night, getting to sleep was not a problem.

April 29

Today's my 62nd birthday. And it will not be one I'll forget.

My weather apps have been amazingly accurate. Even so, I had gone to bed wishing and hoping that maybe their forecasts of extremely high winds moving into Santa Fe by late morning would change. But, of course, when my alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. and I checked them, there had been no change. I really didn't expect such a first-time occurrence, which is why I was getting up so early. I wanted to see if I could cover the 70 miles from Albuquerque to Santa Fe before the worst of the winds — with gusts of 30-40 mph — moved in. If I could maintain my average of 10 mph, I might get close enough to gut out the last few miles, anyway.

I rolled out of the motel driveway onto Central Boulevard at 5 a.m. sharp — not bad given my notoriously late starts. Maybe I had a chance to beat those Santa Fe winds!

I enjoyed riding through the city in the early morning and seeing many of its neighborhoods. I noticed why Albuquerque has been heralded as one of the better bicycling cities in the United States. Bike lanes were everywhere, and several miles of my route were on Bicycle Boulevard, a series of connected streets on which automobile traffic was restricted.

Being out at a new time in a new place may have been the reason it took me a few minutes to notice that the streets I was on were pitching up little by little. Maybe it was the dark hour, but I didn't notice much of an incline visually.  Yet, I was definitely going uphill. As the sun was rising, I got onto a bike path that paralleled a large, concrete flood-control channel.  It got steeper and steeper, forcing me into my smallest gear. I pushed that gear for what seemed like a few miles before finally reaching a plateau. After two hours, I had gone only about 10 miles. I didn't realize that just getting out of Albuquerque would be so slow and arduous. The ascent that was supposed to be the toughest today, the Cedar Crest climb, was still several miles ahead.

I kept grinding and before too long was on the road up to Cedar Crest. While the Cedar Crest climb was challenging, the climb out of Albuquerque had been harder.  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, another  cyclist — out for his morning ride on his Cervelo racing frame — came up beside me. He asked where I was headed. When I told him Santa Fe, he replied that I maybe should rethink my plans. There were a couple of wildfires burning near Santa Fe and he had heard a report that air quality was bad there. I told him I was aware of the fires, but that I thought the day's winds would blow the smoke away from the city. Besides, I told him, I had friends to meet there, so stopping wasn't an option. We then came to a steep uphill and he left me behind.

By about 9 a.m. the winds were already picking up. They hadn't yet reached the level at which warnings are issued, but they were plenty strong. I had a couple of incidents where I was speeding downhill when hit by a gust that moved me a few feet sideways. Another time I had to take the middle of the lane because the winds were whipping me around so much that I didn't feel safe having cars pass me. And one other time, while going downhill,  the wind suddenly calmed for a second. Just as I started to wonder what was happening, a wavelike wall of wind hit me head-on, almost bringing me to a stop. 

I got to the town of Madrid — pronounced MAD-rid — just before noon and decided I'd had enough. I had ridden 52 miles and had about 23 more to go. One of my friends in Santa Fe, Stephen Duck, had told me he was available for a rescue if the winds got too intense. I called and asked him to bail me out. While I waited for Stephen, I went into The Mineshaft Tavern & Cantina and had a brisket melt and fries for lunch. Soon after I finished, Stephen arrived with his pickup truck and drove me and my bike to my hotel, the Inn of the Governors, in Santa Fe.

I was wiped out. I actually had started to doze off while eating my lunch at the Mineshaft Tavern. So as soon as Stephen dropped me off at the Inn of the Governors, and I got into my room, I took a nap. For three hours.

Stephen is not only a good friend of Susan and mine, he's our financial advisor. We started with his father almost 15 years ago, and when his father retired we continued with Stephen.

In the evening, Stephen, his wife, Dora, and their 16-year-old daughter, Sophia, treated me to my birthday dinner at one of Santa Fe's most popular restaurants, Cafe Pasqual's. I had the lamb chops, which were excellent. We had a wonderful visit. (Although, I forgot to ask the waitress to take our picture.)

Despite not being able to ride the entire route, it had been a good day.

April 30

Today was a wonderful rest day in Santa Fe. Although, I didn't get much rest because I had so many good things to do.

In the morning, I had time to work on my journal. Then, a little before noon, some friends that I had gotten to know in Los Angeles, who have retired here — Patrick Lee and his wife, Maria — took me to lunch at Dolina Cafe & Bakery. They also bought me a souvenir Santa Fe T-shirt.

Patrick and I have had some parallels in our lives. When I was working at The Milwaukee Journal during and after college, he was a reporter there. When I worked at the Los Angeles Times, he was a reporter there. But we didn't get to know each other until we were both regional editors for an internet local-news start-up called Patch, from 2010 to 2013.

For lunch, I enjoyed a wonderful pastry to start, and then "Kapustnica,"  a Slovakian Christmas stew made with sauerkraut, mushrooms, kielbasa, hungarian paprika, potatoes and prunes, with toast.

After lunch, Patrick and Maria were kind enough to take me to a Walgreen's so I could pick up a few things I needed.

We then returned to my hotel, where a parking attendant took our picture.

After some more writing in my room, I had another friend from college to visit with. Helen Brooks, then Helen Ernst, and I were journalism students at Marquette University in Milwaukee. We got to know each other in our sophomore year when we were both reporters for the campus paper, the Marquette Tribune. In our junior year, I was the paper's news editor and Helen was the managing editor. We also had apartments across the hall from each other in one of the dumpiest buildings on the edge of the Marquette campus.

Helen and her husband, Doug, fell in love with Santa Fe long before living here. They visited often when they were living in their hometown of Rockford, Illinois. Helen was working in a leadership position for a hospital in Rockford when a position opened up at Presbyterian Hospital in Santa Fe. She and Doug, who has an architecture degree from MIT and has worked in facilities development, made a proposal to a Presbyterian Hospital executive, who agreed to hire them both. Helen became the CEO for Presbyterian Santa Fe Medical Center, overseeing the expansion of its new campus. She retired in 2019 and remains active as a board member for several organizations. Doug is now executive director of hospital campus development at University of New Mexico Hospitals in Albuquerque. They have three sons and three grandchildren (I hope I got that right).

Helen and Doug picked me up in Helen's red Tesla (my first time in one!) and took me to an Italian restaurant, Andiamo. (Helen had given me a few restaurant options. I had a craving for pasta.) At the suggestion of Patrick and Maria Lee, I ordered the Penne with Spicy House-Made Lamb Sausage. It was excellent. Helen, Doug and I did so much catching up that, I realized later, we didn't do any reminiscing. Maybe next time.

And, once again, I forgot to ask our waitress to take our picture. So, I stole a photo of the two of them from Helen's Facebook page.

I wish we could have had more time, but I was facing an early start the next morning and needed to get back to my hotel.

I'm thankful I had time to spend with such good friends in Santa Fe. It makes me happy to see the success they've all had and the good lives they're leading. And they certainly fed me well!

Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.

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