After a good night's sleep and rest we are getting ready to roll.
A cooler morning for a change here at the Las Vega, New Mexico, KOA Campground.
Light windbreaker/jacket needed.
The cabin has little extra room to maneuver when occupied by two guys, a bunk bed, a regular bed, and two bikes, so we do our packing and loading outside.
That's Brother Mark awakening and greeting the dawn in his usually good spirits.
Our first stop involves the Subway sandwhich franchise just outside the campground.
A beautiful morning and excellent road for cycling.
Notice the super wide smooth paved shoulder. A safe way to travel.
Route 66 presents as a living museum inviting reflection into its history: What might be the story behind this vintage abandoned auto and the people associated with it? Where were they from? Where were they headed? Did they reach their destination?
Route 66 presents as a living museum inviting reflection into its history: What might be the story behind this vintage abandoned auto and the people associated with it? Where were they from? Where were they headed? Did they reach their destination?
Route 66 may be traveled for many different reasons. Many seek the zany tourist element of Route 66.
I seek the living history embedded in the Mother Road. So many lives. So many destinies. So fascinating.
All that remains of an old bridge. Perhaps an original Route 66 bridge replaced by the newer alignment we ride today.
Meet Steve.
He's not our long lost brother, but we do share some rugged, good-looking characteristics, eh?
Steve heads west. (We pedalling east.)
Steve has headwinds. (We don't.)
As a veteran cyclist traveling alone, Steve's target destination of Phoenix, Arizona, home to his son, awaits him.
Our eyes feast on beautiful and wide open spaces today.
But our stomachs want more than scenery.
Unfortunately, the 99.1 km (61 miles) we cover today offer us almost zero opportunities for places to eat.
We had a big breakfast at Subway in Los Vegas this morning.
We ordered extra subs to carry with us for our next real meal.
(We fuel and feast on, or at least tolerate, powerbars and sport drinks while we pedal along.)
We hoped this remote vingate "cowboy bar" would be open and serve food.
Part of our hopes were realized.
Maesta's Lounge and Bar Games was open, but wasn't serving food. Cold drinks yes.
Standing outside Maesta's Lounge and Bar Games, I stretch my legs, and for some strange reason wear my windbreaker. I don't recall it being cool at all.
In the middle of this weekday, we are, no surprise, the only customers.
I googled this place. Many 4.9 star reviews. "A good place to go." I'm sure it is.
But it is also, as far as we can tell, just about the only place to go for quite some distance.
No food served in middle of the day. No problem. We brought our own slightly travelled subs from our breakfast stop in Las Vegas near the KOA, and it's ok for us to eat our subs in the wonderfully quiet, dark, very vintage establishment.
The restrooms (American)/washrooms (Canadian) rank high among both the cleanest and oldest I ever used. Talk about stepping into a Time Machine.
The gentleman holding down the fort during this low traffic customer day, quietly accepted payment for my two cans of Coca Cola. (I wouldn't want to dehydrate now, would I? :-)
During our brief stay he finsihed up one re-run espisode of Bonanza on the Western Channel, and began another, enjoying the super large screen TV and impressive surround sound mini-theater.
Down the road from Maesta's refueling station, we cross yet another brown water river so typical of the region.
Way behind us, under those dark, moisture-laden thunder-head clouds sits our starting point, Las Vegas, New Mexico.
But the clouds are not sitting still. (See next photo.)
Clouds closer. Clouds darker. Clouds moving our way, faster than we move away from them.
Can almost smell the rain.
(See our road behind us riding the swells of the rolling hills?)
Didn't see any. But we know they are out there.
No time to dawdle. We aren't the Storm Chasers. We are the Storm Chased.
Full speed ahead towards our destination for the night.
With gravity on our side, and the wind at our backs, we arrive at our destination just before the storm clouds.
(This being Storm Chased every evening becomes a pattern that will eventually create serious issues for us in a few days when we arrive in Amarillo, Texas.)
Another Classic Vintage Route 66 Motel. Much the same as it was decades ago.
Nicely maintained, clean, comfortable rooms.
Truth be told, after almost 100 km (62 miles) today, I probably could have slept soundly on the park lot.
But I'm grateful for this bed.
Amost right across the street, Joseph's Bar and Grill.
Excellent Mexican food supper.
Really fine family owned restaurant for fine, hungry families.
Gift store loaded with lots of nice Route 66 memorabilia.
Tired, but full and happy, we return to motel.
We attend to preliminary packing for tomorrow, and call it a day.
Maps make it look short and easy!
The elevation graph makes my cyclist heart smile, especially after our traversing of the so-called "Foothills of the Rockies" a few days ago.
Had a few short but steep descents reaching so uncomfortably high speeds for me.
As heavily loaded as we are, the fast downhills feel dangerous.
At 63 kph (almost 40 mph) I'm not fully in control of the bike. Can't stop quickly. Can't turn effectively.
Every little bump gives my bike a severe case of the wobbles.