Route 66 Gallup, New Mexico to Amarillo, Texas: May 26, 2019 Day 5 Bernalillo to Santa Fe, New Mexico

I posted this entry for the day on our Shelley Brothers Cycling Adventures Facebook page:

Day 5: Bernalillo to Sante Fe, New Mexico.

Brother Mark predicted this would be our toughest day’s ride for our entire trek. 

I’m pretty sure he's correct. Or, at least I hope he is, for I’m not sure either one of us could repeat or exceed today’s experience any time soon. 

We experienced it all today:

Side winds trying to push us over. Was a challenge to keep our bikes upright;

Headwinds on the inclines creating the sensation gravity hates us.

Tailwinds hitting us, feeling like someone is punching us in the back saying, “Get a move on!”;

Blazing temps dangerously raising body temps;

Miraculous cloud cover at the 11th hour;

Chased by a thunderstorm;

Meeting some incredible people across a wide spectrum of cultural identities.

(Just another day in the life of a touring cyclist ;-) 

By the end of the day we climbed a little over 3,100 ft (945 meters) over a distance of 59 miles (93 km). 

Our first few hours found us navigating an ancient segment of Route 66 as guests on Native Land.

One 5 mile (8 km) section was a washboard of sand/gravel/rock nearly impossible to travel: like riding our bikes on soft beach sand mixed with marble-sized rocks.

While struggling along, 70+ year old Steve pulls up in his old pick up and expresses his concern for us.

Then he realized we weren’t in trouble, just crazy. (We get that a lot on these rides.)

So we talked about calving, and water tables, and rattlesnakes “which are all over that hill just across this road.” He was being serious.

Many First Nations residents waved and cheered us on, like the two older ladies who called out their car window, “Now you boys take care of yourselves.”

The second half of our ride we climbed big time. In our lowest gears we laboured up radical inclines requiring “hundreds” of pedal rotations per minute.

It was so hot!

Then came the blessed cloud cover.

Then came the blessed tailwind.

Then came the storm.

It was pushing us along with 45 mph (73 kph) cold gusts, but the rain and lightning kept gaining, and there was literally no place to take shelter, and nothing to do but keep pedalling hard, making a direct run for the edge of Santa Fe in hopes of finding shelter from the lightening, winds, and rain. 

And we did.

Literally moments before the water hit, pulling our bikes over a hill, the first building we saw was a gas station/convenience store. 

We huddled with our bikes under the awning of the storefront, ate some snack food, watching the storm pass. 

That’s when we met Gary, artist, motorcyclist, and appreciator of Route 66.

We swapped stories and insights and became instant friends.

Gary gave us his phone number if we were ever back in town, or near his summer home in Montana. 

Storm passed and our tired rubber jelly legs faithfully took us the final 10 miles (16 km) through the town, mostly along a beautiful paved riverbed bike path, to our Motel 6. 

Ate pizza. Cleaned up. Conked out. 

Here’s some photos telling our story through this interesting day:

Poking my head out of my tent I enjoy the sunrise.



The Flat Tire Champ wins again!

Before we even pedal out of the campground, Mark experiences and repairs flat number 3 or 4.

I'm losing count ;-)



Happy Black Bear wishes us well.



After a short ride to the outskirts of what you could call the edge of northern Albuquerque, we follow another very old segment of Route 66.

We just don't like spending anymore more time on the noisy shoulder pavement of the Interstate than required.

This road is NOT as firm as it looks in the photo.

Most of the surface shares the same depth and density as beach sand.

We pedal a torturous 5 mile (8 km) stretch that feels like an eternity and has me thinking very bad words about everything.

But it is along this stretch we meet Steve, an elderly, active rancher driving an older pick up.

He expresses concern about our physical well being. Realizing we are fine, I see in his eyes he still very much questions our mental condition.

I'm pretty sure he wanted to ask, "What the Hades are you doing riding a bike out here on this road?"

But he was too kind to do so.

Instead, we had a fascinating discussion about the unique challenges of ranching in this rattlesnake infested region.

These large specimens of cattle make it very clear who owns the roads in these them hills. (We are in open range territory. Very few fences.)

We stop a good distance away to "let" them pass. 

We immediately wondered if we stopped far enough away. 

It's a stare down.

We blink first.

They win. (I'm so grateful at this moment cattle are vegetarians!)

They move on.

We live. (At this moment, out of gratefulness and respect for the bovines, I become a vegetarian. For a couple of hours. Until just before lunch :-)

Finally we rediscover pavement.

And Romerdo's Market in the wide spot in the road on the map labeled Pena Blanca. (Translated: "White Sorrow." Wonder what the story and history behind this village might be?!)

And we are grateful.

We planned and hoped some kind of "watering hole oasis" might be found in this little village. If not, the second and very long half of our day would be in serious trouble.

Our deepest "Thanks!" to Romerdo's!



Shade in Romerdo's tiny parking lot is a breath from heaven. (The heat of the pavement reminds us hell isn't far away.)

It's not just the bottle of cold water I have just poured over my head making me look sweaty.

I looked that way before I dumped the cold water bottle contents over my head. I just wasn't smiling so much.

The temps in the 90'sF (40'sC).

This brief stop no doubt imprints in my memory as one of those lifelong recollections of "Ahhhhh...."

That's me on the right. Mark on the left.

He's the best brother, friend, and fellow Adventure Cyclist anyone could ask for.



Climbing out of the hot valley sheltering Romerdo's Market, we pedal onto this vast plain.

A huge valley between two ranges of high mountains.

Also a natural super-charged wind tunnel.

Powerful side winds make it difficult to keep our bikes upright.

This looks deceptively flat. It isn't. It's a slight, very long inclined road needlessly warming us up for what's ahead.

Note the intensifying cloud cover.

This reality comes to bear big time in a couple of hours.



In the thick of this windstorm, in the middle of this flat-as-the-sea valley, we get educated.

Summarizing this roadside info piece: "This road and the mountain side you are about to climb has been a pain in the butt for travelers since prehistoric time and remained so until the advent of first the railroad and then the automobile."

We soon discover this route continues to remain a literal pain in the butt to Adventure Cyclists.

Note how my havelock neck covering blows away from my person at a 45 degree angle. The wind she does blow!



We climb the Interstate shoulder lane up up up to the top of the pass.

I pause and consider the rapidly deepening dark clouds quickly pursuing us from behind.

The powerful sidewind now becomes a powerful tailwind.

We see the lightening and water wall approaching.

We are out in the middle of nowhere totally unprotected.

No shelter anywhere.

I'm not worried about getting wet. (A bit of coolness would be nice after being toasted all day.)

But this looks dangerous.

With the wind at our back we pedal with all our might. (Without the tail wind, we'd be goners.)

For at least an hour we flee towards the edge of Sante Fe and the hope of shelter.

But the storm creeps ever so much closer.

Just as the first big drops start falling sparsely on the pavement we crest a hill to the welcoming site of a large gasoline station and convenience store combo.

As soon as we roll up under the store awning, the floodgates of heaven open wide.

We gratefully purchase cold drinks and sandwiches and sit on the porch as the sky flushes and cleans the earth.



Gary also waits out the storm under the protective cover of the convenience store.

He lives around here in the cooler seasons, then motorcycles to his summer home in Montana.

Gary experiences Route 66 with a motor between his two wheels.

But our love for two wheels and Route 66 gives us plenty in common to chat about.

We compare notes and experiences of our journeys on The Mother Road.



We are slowly navigating our way through Sante Fe to our Motel 6.

And I mean "slowly."

On all our rides, Brother Mark consistently demonstrates a greater endurance than I on a bike.

Today is the first and only time I've seen him "crawling along."

He must really be tired.

I'm sure he is, for I can barely pedal and balance.

We've covered almost 60 miles (100 km), climbing almost 3,000 ft (1,000 m) in some of the most challenging elements of heat and wind and water and road surfaces we've ever encountered.

When I say our legs are like jelly, it's barely a metaphorical word.

We actually shake when we walk.

We continue slowly, both of us aware that if we stop, it may truly be hard to get moving again.



This is NOT our trail. Its the dry (right now) river bed along which our nicely paved bike path follows.

Saying bye bye to the bad clouds as they fly away to soak a few cyclists somewhere else.



I could kiss the person who designed this bike trail.

Tunnels go under streets, meaning we don't have to pedal up and down to street level all the time.



Yay!

This sign confirms we are still on our Route.

We finally reach Motel 6.

Our room is on the second level, and there is no elevator. Just exterior stairs.

We unload our bikes at ground level, and make several trips, taking gear up first, and then lift and push our bikes up the stairs.

We really don't mind. It's just wonderful to be here and be done pedalling for the day.

First Priority: Order the pizzas and very cold coca colas.

Second Priority: Take showers while waiting for pizza to arrive.

Third Priority: Eat all the pizza in the AIR CONDITIONED room.

Fourth Priority: Sleep.

No one can say we don't have our priorities in order!



The graph above accurately reflects the challenge of the day.