It seems like the route either attracts people at the beginning or the end of their careers, and during this section I bumped into lots of the latter. The place was so packed I ended up having to inflate my air bed in a corner.ĭays 51 to 53 – Gila Forest with dads armyĪ fair few of the people I met at the toaster house were doing the divide, and I was the youngest of the lot by about 15 years. According to the legend, a lady has donated her house to cyclists and walkers, and you can stay there for as long as you want for a donation. I then spent the night in the toaster house, a place famous on the divide. He regularly rides 40 miles from his home to stash some water and snacks for cyclists in a particularly barren part of the ride. There were trail angels throughout the ride from Canada to Mexico, but the section from Grants and Pie Town was littered with them.įirst I met Dick, who pulled over on his vintage BMW bike he’s owned since he was a kid. Ross, stop it, you’re meant to be enjoying yourself, not torturing yourself about worst case scenariosĭue to my paranoia about water and the heat, decided I would wake up early to get the majority of the distance done before it got roasting.Īs it happens, was woken up by a coyote howling at 3:45, so decided to get up and get on with it.What happens if it rains and I get stuck out here?.My thought process for the entire day was: Riding it solo I was very conscious of what might go wrong. It was hot, barren and had roads that become impassable when wet. This section was one of the most remote sections of the entire route. Woken up several times in the night by the flash of lightening. I was halfway through putting the pegs in when the rain hit so dived in and hid for the evening.
A brutal climb that many regard as the hardest on the route, blistering sun shine, rain, hail, lightening and strong winds.Ĭould hear the thunder as I pulled into camp and quickly got working on getting the tent up. This was repeated 4 or 5 times before I finally got to Abiquiu, nerves shredded. I’d cycle like mad through the town with them hot on my heels and only lose them 2 or 3 km later. I would then pick up my pace knowing that a gaggle of dogs looking for cyclist blood would soon be upon me. In between towns I could gently roll through the countryside.Īs soon as I approached a settlement the sentry dog would alert every other dog in the neighbourhood to my presence. Haven’t been bothered by them all trip, but riding from Taos to Abiquiu was like interval training. I don’t know what happens to the dogs when they cross the New Mexico border, but I’m assuming it has something to do with a shot of rabies and a double shot of aggression. The bike is boxed up and checked in, and I’m sitting in the airport lounge in El Paso waiting for my connecting flight to LA. After 55 days, and roughly 3000 miles, I made it to the Mexican border.
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