It should be easy to infer from the title of this post
that my adventure is at an end. I’ll get into the details below but I can summarize
it by saying that while not making the border (Antelope Wells, NM) is a bit
disappointing, it has been a great ride, literally and figuratively. No
regrets.
So, dear readers (are there any left?), when last I
posted I identified two go-forward options. Keep riding and see how far we
could get or make a push to get to an iconic point on the route. Arguably, we
could have combined the two but circumstances conspired against that. We opted
for the latter and made our way to Del Norte, a small town (almost all the
towns you pass through on the route are small) that marks the start of the
climb to Indiana Pass, the highest point on the trail at just shy of 12,000
feet. It made for a good goal.
Since Indiana Pass is only about 500 feet higher than
Boreas Pass, which we climbed a week or so ago, one (again, me) might assume
that the level of difficulty of the climbs would be similar. To self: “Wrong
again.” The climb to Boreas Pass starts in Breckinridge, which is already at
9,500 ft elevation so the climb is only about 2,000 feet at a reasonably
constant grade (3-4 percent). Not easy but not crazy difficult. On the other
hand, the elevation of Del Norte is about 7,800 feet, so the climb is 4,000 feet
over fewer miles, which makes for much steeper grades. Actually, it is a bit
more daunting in that the first half is on a paved road at a reasonable grade -
maybe 2-3 percent. At about the half way point, though, the road turns to gravel and the grade kicks up noticeably.
There are long stretches of trail that are easily 8-10 percent or higher. The
trail itself is not too bad. Hard packed dirt, some loose gravel, a bit of
washboard, but steep. As for scenery, I can only tell you what the road looked like
a few feet in front of the bike as I tried to stay upright while cruising along
at times at 4-5 mph, sometimes less. (Yes, you can almost walk that fast but
mot on grade pushing the “beast.”) The grades did lessen in places, of course,
but generally it was very steep. Not surprisingly, there was more hike-a-bike
for me on this trail than any other. No
doubt some stronger riders would fare better but it is, simply, a difficult
climb. It was a reminder, as if I needed one, that riding a bike at 11,000+ foot
elevation, under load, on an unpaved, steep road can be just a bit draining. It
turns out that they (who are “they”, anyway?) were not lying when they said
that air is thinner at altitude. At times I felt like “thin air” was synonymous
with “no air.” But we did finally arrive at the summit.
So, was the climb worth it? Yes, unequivocally. We
arrived at the Pass in late afternoon and decided to camp on the summit. What a
wonderful experience. First, there happened to be a flock of sheep in the
fields below us being herded by a few border collies and guarded by a Pyrenees
sheep dog. No shepherd in sight. The sheep dog is massive and bred to look like
a sheep - it has an all white coat - and is used to protect the sheep against
wolves and other predators. It just sort of finds a place to overlook the flock
and watches. But when it saw us it came over and simply wanted to be petted. A
really beautiful dog. (If I sound like I know what I am talking about, it is
because someone told me. There were no sheep dogs in northeast Philly where I
grew up. Many mongrels, though, if that counts for anything.)
Second, while it got quite chilly we got lucky and it was
a crystal clear night sky. It’s hard to
compare but the stars seemed brighter than when we were in the Basin. Probably
the thinner air makes for a slightly more translucent sky. It was like some CGI
movie effect. Simply magical. And then it got better. The morning sunrise
coming over the mountains was just gorgeous. I suppose starlit skies and
morning mountain sunrises can become a bit mundane if you live in a place where
they are common. But perhaps that’s a benefit of living in a city: you can
still be awed every once in a while by simply being in a place and experiencing what nature provides every day.
(Oh, by the way, nature also provided copious amounts of sheep droppings in the
campsite area, which was not so magical.)
So what happened to our little band of riders after the
night on the summit. Well, Lisa, the English rider, who is on a 2+ month
sojourn in the western US decided she was going to go off route in the next day
or so and head to Santa Fe. Andrew, the Aussie, is meeting his Brazilian
girlfriend in Mexico in late October and is in no hurry to be anywhere soon so
he takes his time and occasionally goes off route himself. That left me with
the option of putting in some more miles, just to put in miles, or calling it a
day. Putting in more miles, even knowing that reaching the border was not in
the cards, did appeal to me. I like to finish what I start or, if I can’t
finish, I like to get as close as possible. But as I mentioned in earlier
posts, I was navigationally handicapped. And, truth be told, I was fading a
bit. My daily mileage was going down. Also, logistically, wherever the ride
would have ended, I would have needed to find a town with bus service and / or
a bike shop to break down and box the bike and then get to an airport. You’d be
surprised how many little towns on the route have neither, and the farther
south you go, even the number of little towns diminishes. So, considering all
the variables,, it seemed the best course was to end my adventure short of the
goal.
It was a bit disappointing to not get to the border but I
am ok with it. It was a great ride and I made a serious dent in the mileage. It
was also much more difficult than I expected. (I need to check my birth
certificate. I may be older than I realize.) I’ll know better next time. More
importantly, there were some great, unforgettable moments; I met some really
interesting people from all over the world; I got to see the country up close;
and I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of the ride. I’m grateful.
A note of thanks. You don’t undertake a ride like this
without a lot of support, be it moral or material. I’d like to thank my riding
partner-in-crime, Bill. As he explained in an earlier post, he needed to end
his ride early. But we kept in contact as I continued on route and he was
unflagging in his encouragement and support. He knows what’s it’s like to be on
the road for weeks at a time. It was always a treat to chat for a bit and have
a few laughs, typically at my expense. It made a tough day easier and was
always welcomed and appreciated. (Now I know what many of you who know Bill are
thinking: “Bill Zarakas, that stern, stoic, unfeeling guy who is so hard to
like had words of encouragement?” Yes, he did. We all have two sides to our
personality, it’s simply that Bill has managed to keep his more empathetic side
exceptionally well hidden his entire life.) Second, I want to thank friends and
colleagues who through many chats, messages, and emails provided continuous
encouragement, support, and more than a bit of good humor - again, usually at
my expense. Hmmm…there seems to be a recurring theme here, re. laughing at me.
Good thing I like to laugh. (Remember, though, I have a good memory and I hold
grudges ) And many thanks to my extended family - brothers, sisters, my boys,
in-laws, and relatives for their encouragement and kind words. It meant a lot.
Finally, thanks and much love to Ann, my wife, who, while not knowing anything
about long distance bike packing, knew that this trip meant a lot to me and
that was enough for her to be gracious and kind enough to support another of my
quixotic adventures. I’m a lucky man.
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