We left Dalhart with the sun shining and the wind blowing gently in no particular direction. This was a very good thing, since this boy had not yet recovered from the previous days exertions. Yeah, yeah, poor boy and all that. Anyway, I was in luck since we had but 45 miles to travel and all day to accomplish said miles. We headed north toward the line, but made one final stop in Oklahoma. We could not pass the opportunity to visit the local Chamber of Commerce and peruse their selection of t-shirts. They had some good ones.

I am not good enough to make this stuff up. Once through Hooker, which took very little time, we continued north toward the sunflower state. One mile past the sign welcoming us to Seaward County, we came across the sign welcoming us to Kansas. I guess they really are serious about their budget cutting out here.

We meandered through the outskirts of Liberal, our home for the night, enjoying the sunshine and looking for the town’s most famous landmark, Dorothy’s house.

Yup, here we were. A barely readable sign told us this was a reproduction of the type of house that the Gale family might have lived in, in 1904. This was the year L. Frank Baum wrote his first book, The Land of Oz. And since in 1981, the governor of Kansas declared this Dorothy’s House, who am I to argue?

Tomorrow we ride a bunch more miles in Kansas, and the day after that, and the day after that and…well it is what it is. Following is a link to the Big Dreams tour site. Here you will find more of each days pictures, a Relive video of the days ride, which is a short, but cool, satellite tour and much wittier writing than mine.

Tour Day 19

Thank you for riding along.

We left Dalhart, Texas today with a cold 20 mph wind and grey sky. And yes, it was right in our faces. I had left my pack in the breakfast room and in the two minutes I lost fetching it, the train had left the station. To fight this nemesis, the hardy pedallers had formed a pace line and I spied only blinking tail lights. I was keeping pace but the thought of what it would take to catch them, caused me to accept my fate and hope join at the first sag. So I took a picture, which looks like most of the other pictures. But our resident bike-monster, Payton came up, and said let’s go catch the pack. Since he asked, and offered to pull, I got right on his wheel and in about four miles I was back in the hunt. We worked this haphazardly until our sag at 30 miles, where we lost more than a few to the vans. It was very hard going.

I did not mention the feed lot yesterday. It was over a mile long with cows on both sides of the road as far as one could see. Former farmer Tom G. estimated there were likely 20,000 head of cattle in this one operation. According to the University of Nebraska website, a cow will eat 27 pounds of hay a day. To fulfill the 540,000 lbs. of feed needed per day, there are over 20 miles of irrigated fields growing nothing but alfalfa farther than the eye can see. Just sayin’.

Seventy miles and one night was enough of Texas, so at a town called Texhoma, we entered our fifth state.

By this point, a few went on and a few fell back, but Howard, Tom G. and myself formed up for the last 22 miles. By this time, the wind was from due north so a little to our left. We diagonaled up, real tight, front wheel adjacent to rear wheel and trusted each other to handle the truck gusts generated by semis doing 80 or more. We understood that this was more of a drag line than a pace line, but we got each other in. Yesterday with our tailwind, we averaged 18.3 mph, today we averaged 12.3 mph. I am really tired and tomorrow we bid adieu to Oklahoma to see what Kansas has in store. It really is a short day at 45 miles and this boy needs it. Thank you for riding along.

I want all of my friends and family to know I was watching what was happening in the Dayton area last night. I hope everyone is safe and that you and yours had little or no damage. It seems an irony to be in West Texas and have to worry about tornadoes in my home town. Stay safe and take care of each other.

I am not going to start out by saying the air was cool and the sky clear, even though it was. I am going to start out by saying we would soon leave New Mexico behind and head to the Lone Star State. However, before we left, we were treated to a spectacular farewell.

Although, we were still in eastern New Mexico.

As you can see, today we had not just bicycles, but car and truck traffic too. As is the sad norm, we passed no towns, not boarded up, until we hit the state line.

After the line we came to our first boarded up town in Texas. So here, like most places, borders, lines, fences and walls, are only a state of mind.

Admittedly, I faced today with a certain amount of dread. Yesterday’s ride had been, challenging, shall we say, and my legs were tired and my tail sore. But today we turned northeast, and our old friend the tailwind was blowin’ from the southwest. It did get into the 80’s but that is still 10 degrees cooler than yesterday, so life is pretty darn good. With the wind, we turned a 96 mile day into a five hour and fifteen minute ride. Add an hour for three Sags and we were in the motel by 2:30. For those of you doing the math, Texas is in the central time zone. So we lost an hour on the bike, and will lose an hours sleep tonight. Okay, I get to ride across the U.S. so I know where I can find sympathy.

Tomorrow is so short, we are not starting until 8:00. We pedal the 72 miles (it’s all relative folks) from Dalhart, Texas to Guymon, Oklahoma. Stay safe, check in on folks, and thank you for riding along.

The day started clear and cold as we left Las Vegas. So here’s to wearing a jacket, even if not for very long. One nice thing about eastern New Mexico is our route sheet said, turn left out of hotel, note three Sags, and at 109.2 miles, turn left into motel.

Actually we started to roll into a landscape completely foreign to me. (the picture above is around 75 miles on) I was slow getting the legs moving this morning so I spent most of the first 25 miles alone. I was amazed at just how desolate the land is. It was also so very quiet. I listened to my tires roll, crickets chirping, birds whistling and the occasional puff of wind rustling the thistle and prairie grass. This is ranch land, and as I pedaled I would come across odd adobe buildings, beside small stake corrals, each with a windmill standing as silent sentinel to quiet land. I have no idea if these are used today, or were abandoned long ago.

Today’s ride was three distinct parts. We witnessed the raw plains for the first 28 miles where we stopped at the only gas station until mile 76.

From 27 miles we dropped, and I do mean dropped, from the escarpment we have been traveling along.

And we wound down three miles of switchbacks, that would have been fun, except for the two very gnarly cattle grates 1/3rd and 2/3rds of the way down. Note, over 1,000 miles and the brakes still work, otherwise you would not be reading this post.

We reached the 3rd Sag at 76 miles which was at a real gas station. We were blown into this stop by a 20 mph wind, mostly quartering our tail. We had done a couple of serious climbs in our middle section, including one of nearly 2 miles with an 11% grade near the top. Tom Giere noted that if the wind held, the terrain stayed fairly flat and we didn’t have to turn right (into the wind) we should finish the final 30 miles in 1 1/2 hrs. We hit the welcome to Tucumcari sign, with 4 miles yet to the motel, nearly 2 1/2 hrs later. I blame Tom, although got all three.

Yes, the refrain from Willin’, by the late, great Lowell George. You have heard Linda Ronstadt’s version, which is very good. But George, with his band Little Feat, recorded Waiting for Columbus, the greatest rock n’ roll album ever. If you do not understand, that’s good, it means you survived the 70’s with most of your brain cells still intact. But I would still give it a listen. Tomorrow, if all goes well, we ride 96 miles to Dalhart, Texas. Thanks for riding along.

Not a bad two weeks work. And when you throw in 40,875 feet of climbing, it becomes something worth mentioning. But I won’t since that would be boring, and I promised to try and not bore you. We left Santa Fe with cool air (yes, I am getting used to this) and clear blue skies. We immediately started climbing, but, that whole scenery and sky thing makes it seem easy. At the end of this first climb was Glorieta Pass, elevation, 7,500 ft., the highest point on our cross country tour. The only sign is a historical marker commemorating the Battle of Glorieta Pass, which was the decisive battle of the New Mexico campaign. The Union victory forced the Confederate troops back into Confederate Arizona and Texas. Thank you Wikipedia.

From our summit we did more of that roll and climb, roll and climb, without giving up any real altitude. We passed through the town of Pecos and by the Pecos National Historical Park.

And, not to be outdone by Rt. 66, we spent most of the day following the Santa Fe Trail.

Seventy-three miles later we pulled into Las Vegas, New Mexico. Our accommodations are the Plaza Hotel, a grand dame, built in 1882, and aging well. Tomorrow is our second century (ride of at least 100 miles) at 109 miles. Hopefully at days end we will be in Tucumcari, New Mexico. But I will spare you my Lowell George tribute until we arrive. Thank you for riding along.

Today was a rest day in the beautiful city of Santa Fe. But then every city is pretty in a way, and I believe the best way to view any city is from way off. And since Charlie found a trail leading to the top of Mt. Atalaya, we chose that as our view. It is a 5 1/2 mile trail gaining 2,000 feet through pinyon, scrub, prickly pear and yucca.

The trail had a bit of scree, so you had to watch your footing, but the air was thick with the scent of pine and that sky, amazing. It took about 2 1/2 hours to get to the summit and the experience was worth every step.

We shared the 9,117 ft. summit with a young couple from Dallas, and one furry local having even more fun than me.

We hung around in the cool air and contemplated how wise this may have been. But one of my major flaws is, when the mountains call, I just go.

And Tom Giere and I went to dinner in Old Town.

Tomorrow we ride 73 miles to Las Vegas New Mexico. I didn’t even know there was more than one. But new discoveries were part of the plan. Thank you for riding along.

What a glorious day! We pedalled out of Albuquerque at a cool 50 degrees with clear skies and winds not worth mentioning. We started climbing right out of the motel but it was a new day and the creaks worked their way out by the time we turned onto New Mexico 14. This is an aptly named scenic byway that rises and falls, and twists and turns through cactus, scrub oak and a few hearty pines. It was a true western, Big Sky day. And I felt great.

This was day 14 of the tour and our 12th day riding. I think I have finally settled in. The cool and blue certainly helped, but I think it is more that this is the first day we were not trying to beat the heat, the sleet, or get a monster climb out of the way. Today we had total climbing of 4,900 ft. but, we got back 3,300 of that on smooth, rolling downhills. It never seemed like a grind and there was very little traffic.

For the first time, we even stopped for a leisurely lunch. The town of Madrid is about 500 yards long, and 200 yards wide. In this short, narrow space there is one mining museum, three bar/restaurants and countless galleries featuring artists with little ambition and less talent, but it works. You have been to this town before, maybe just not in New Mexico.

After leaving Madrid, we had twenty miles and a few hundred feet of climb into Santa Fe. This too went well, except at the next lunch stop I will skip the goat cheese on my sandwich. When we got back to our motel we celebrated Peyton’s (the ride mechanic/stud) 23rd birthday. His mom got cupcakes sent out here somehow. What about those moms huh! Tomorrow is a rest day and I hope to see a bit of what Santa Fe has to offer. I hope you had a great day too, and thanks for riding along.

Thank you mom! Just goes to show, you are never too old to learn from your mother. Today we pedaled the 79 miles from Grants to Albuquerque. It started off a bit above 37 but spirits dropped quickly when at .7 miles, we turned onto old Rt. 66, and into a 25 mph headwind. Having checked the weather (obsessively) before leaving, it was the consensus, that it would just be that kind of day. But, using the skills thus far learned and earned on our ride, we lined up and pushed on. There were eight of us in the pace line, and we worked it slow and steady. Our teamwork must have created good karma, because at some point the wind shifted and our ride became downright pleasant. By our first Support and Gear stop, we were shedding clothes and soaking up rays.

By the time we left Rt. 66 and dropped back onto I-40, our direction changed to a more northerly course, and we had our old friend the tailwind, following us along. Did I mention it was a bit gusty?

The sun was warm, we, as a team had but four flats and this time I got a train shot. Told you Life’s a Blast!

After our second SaG (this, I guess is the proper spelling) at 58 miles, we transitioned back onto our old friend, Rt. 66. This was our last stretch and it would take us into Albuquerque. Upon entering the outskirts, we started a three mile descent with a direct crosswind gusting to 35. What a wild ride! We shook, rattled and shook some more, all the way through town and into our motel on the far east side. I had a good day and hope you did too. Tomorrow we climb over 4,000 ft. in 67 miles on our way to Santa Fe. Thanks for riding along.

We galloped out of Gallup (sorry!) this morning at, you guessed it, 37 degrees. We also had the obligatory cold wind, mostly at our back. And after a few miles, we rolled onto Rt. 40, with its four lanes and 75 mph speed limit. However, the difference today, was a major construction area (I thought we had dealt with major construction on other sections, on other days – silly boy) encountered at about 20 miles. Here we were forced into one lane with a concrete barrier wall on our right, heavy traffic left, and no shoulder. Uphill. This went on for maybe two miles. Nothing like a cycling shoe scraping a concrete barrier to focus the mind. Let me know if you find a video taken by a flabbergasted trucker, likely on the Darwin Theory website. Sorry, I didn’t stop for a picture.

Somehow the entire crew made it through. Which only proves, that which does not kill us, probably should have. Just another five miles or so up the road we had a rest stop to get some food and clean ourselves up. And this was a very special rest stop, because we were at the continental divide.

The question came up, “what is a Sag?” I assume it is an acronym, but what these letters stand for is unknown to me. In our case, a Sag stop is a food and water break, since there is nowhere to get either out here in the nether reaches. The vans are also Sag wagons, carrying extra tubes, tires and other supplies we might need. They also have bike racks in case people poop out, or have a breakdown that can’t be fixed on the road.

From here we entered a section of old Rt. 66 that went on for miles.

For the next 25 miles we enjoyed a smooth road, a slight decent and with Rt. 40 just a quarter mile to our right, no traffic. The wind was shifting, but hey the scenery beckoned and the miles rolled away. And there were trains, big, long trains. One train had five engines in front, two in the middle and two at the end. It had to be over two miles long. We probably watched six trains, coming or going, and all with at least four engines, and all pulling nothing but intermodal containers.

With about 18 miles to go, the wind finally shifted from the southeast. We were heading southeast. So for the first time, instead of a 25 mph tail, we were nose first, with a climb, into the town of Grants, New Mexico. Do you remember me talking about those 17 and 21 average mph days, this was not one of them. Thank you for riding along.

We started out this morning with sunshine and cold. I still would not trade this for the desert, but thoughts do cross one’s mind. I bundled up with everything worn yesterday, save the motel laundry bags wrapped around my feet. Cold and wind is doable, if you can stay away from the rain/snow/sleet/sh*t. By the way, yesterday Tom A. took the picture below of Tom Giere, yours truly and Peyton, trying desperately to out pedal the storm.

As mentioned, we did have the wind again today, but since we were mainly gaining altitude, rather than losing, our average was only 17.5 mph. Which, for those of you who don’t know me, I have never come close to averaging, on any bike ride of over 10 miles, ever. This wind, while chilly, makes for a reasonable 94 mile ride. Well, until the wind shifts too far south and then you just hang on and hope you stay on the shoulder, and out of the way of passing trucks.

On a lighter note, we have officially entered our third state.

The land too, has changed. From the high country, we are now in an area of rugged cliffs and sculpted valleys. Sandstone mesas of pale whites and rust, rise out of the dusty plain. Below, a dry wash, smoothed by wind and contorted by what little water is offered up by the mountains to the west. There is also that water falling in the form of snow, in May, when bicyclists from the midwest, have the audacity to tempt the gods.

Tomorrow is a short day of 66 miles – no complaints here.

Thanks for riding along.