Feeling a little deflated?

Eventually I left Pie Town. It still wasn't easy, but the next three days of riding were going to prove genuinely difficult for me for various reasons. However they will be memorable and some of the Gila Forest crossed between here in Silver City and Pie Town was beautiful.

Why was it difficult? Well the day out of pie town was in theory some fairly easy riding before hitting the Gila hills. However my good fortune at not having had a single flat on the divide was about to run out in a big way. In that one day alone I think I had about eight.  Trust me, that can be a little mentally draining. Thankfully I wasn't riding on my own and had Ben with me for moral support which probably kept me from going off the edge. What caused the initial punctures I'm not sure. But as it turns out if you have a slimed inner tube, it's good against small holes, but it won't seal larger slits. What's worse is that if you then patch your tube after half an hour or so it seems the slime destroys the glue on the patch.  I learned all this the hard way.

That was all bad enough, but I have a bone to pick with my now in the bin Kenda rear tyre as well. In the middle of all the flats it decided to herniate and develop a huge bubble on its surface, so big it would no longer turn through the wheel arch. As Ben has had two Kenda tyres do the same thing perhaps they need to check their quality control. 

Oh man, what a day though, I remember pushing my bike along the side of the dirt road, air leaving the rear tyre again, light failing, and just setting up camp right next to the road. Strangely I also remember cooking dinner in the dark and spilling some down my fleece and shorts. It seemed to sum the day up. That reminds me though I need to go to the laundromat once I have finished writing this.  Luckily though Bertie bear didn't find the smell of my shorts irresistible and devour my legs in the night.

Anyway the next morning I fixed the tyre again, it seemed to be holding, and myself and Ben set off. Shortly we came across a tarantula wandering across the road. He was a creepy furry critter and we got him to pose for a photo session. I'm not sure he was too pleased about the exploitation but I don't think he has a lawyer.

A couple of miles down the road we caught up with Collin and Anders. I explained about all the flats, set off, and of course promptly got another flat. I mean come on! Anyway I changed the tube using my last spare and of we went. The first half of the day we fairly flew along, which made a nice change. The second half of the day we got into the Gila mountains proper and began a lot of climbing and descending in a lung busting and grin inducing repetitive pattern. Of course by the time we made black canyon campsite it was getting dark and dinner was going to be by starlight as usual. In a moment of dark humor as we pulled up into the campsite my rear tyre went hiss and deflated with impeccable comic timing.

In the night we had a couple of wolf packs, one very close to the campsite, howling at each other. For some reason when you're in your tent you feel safe and its a really magic thing to listen too. Why a tent should make you feel safe I have no idea.

The next day looked like it may be tough but all being well we would be in silver city for dinner. However not getting out of camp till eleven, well that was asking to be riding in the dark maybe. The ride started with a two and a half mile climb which I was actually quite enjoying, the grade not being too steep. Then inevitably 0.1 of a mile from the top I got another rear flat. Oh how I laughed. Well the good news, that was the last one up until now, let's hope it stays that way. But it didn't help my mood and until we left the forest the hills just seemed to get steeper and steeper, the heat hotter, and my water lower. The day was taking it out of me.

We decided to take the alternate route over the continental divide hikers trail. It was six miles shorter. It's also in difficulty probably six times harder than any pavement as we found out. To gain the initial altitude for the ridge means pushing your fully loaded bike up a couple of virtual cliffs. I was taking one step forward and then using all my strength to push the bike forward the same amount before jamming on the brakes and repeating the procedure. Damn tiring.

And somewhere up the second stretch of pushing the dark humor continued. One minute I was pushing, the next I was falling off the side of a ridge. Luckily my fall was halted by a nice thorny cactus plant of some kind. It had some wonderfully delicious thorns which broke off the leaf once they had stuck in you. This left me bleeding a little, with some thorns I needed to pull out of my leg, and a cheery and positive outlook on life. But have a look at the photo below. It could have been worse if some of the thorns hadn't gone straight through the sun cream bottle in my shorts. That's what I call a high protection factor.

Eventually we managed to locate the trail along the ridge. It was narrow and in places terrifyingly close to a steep drop off to the left side. This combined with some technical climbing and its bouncy and rocky nature made it pretty exhilarating. And miraculously the wonderful views and adrenalin cured my mood.

Of course (as always seems to happen when I ride with Collin) the light began to fail as we reached the end of the single track. In a stupid moment when I didn't unclip my left foot when I stopped, I managed to slow motion fall with my left knee into a rock. So I left a little more blood on the trail, but no big deal. However the bruising and swelling means pedaling isn't that comfortable but I'm sure it will be fine.

At last we made it to a forest road and began some twilight descending, before fording some water crossings and climbing the final hill of the day in total darkness, with me once again chasing the spotlight from Collins headlamp across the forest floor.

We were so close to the highway, a couple of miles at most when Anders pointed out the map describing a 800m slick rock descent to the car park. Oh hell! That was some exciting ride. At least I was following Collins light. Poor Ben was using his lack lustre headlamp and as far as I could tell also using the force to navigate his way down. As he put it, referring to his bike, 'the old girl decided to take a few dirt naps'. By that point we were all in hysterics at the insanity, but we made it.

After a little night time cruising on the pavement, and Anders nearly running over a whole family of racoons, we reached the saloon at Pinos Altos. Time for dinner. And in my case also three glasses of Pepsi and perhaps six of water. I think I may have been a little dehydrated.  We were very lucky though in that a couple, Christine & Gritz, invited us to camp on their land, and not only that bought us all a beer. So in the end we rolled a very quick downhill seven miles to silver city the next morning.

So some hard day's, but good in a weird way. And when I set off on this adventure I imagined there would be times I would be sat in my tent at night blubbing like a baby. I can honestly say it has never been like that and the amazing positives have always outweighed the fatigue, strain or whatever else. Maybe you should try it?

And this is it. So nearly the end, apparently two days of easy riding from here to the Mexican border. I guess I have to figure out what then. But we had a few celebratory beers last night as this is our last chance. I also went to the barber's and had my beard shaved off. It had been coming on nicely since Canada but was starting to cause me terrible trouble with milk shakes! Anyway I told the barber when I had last shaved and what I had been doing and he did it for free. Bonus. I was a little shocked though to see how thin my face looked underneath. I guess that's what cycling three thousand miles will do. Anyway I by put on the obligatory amusing beard shot for posterity.  Now... On to Mexico!