day six: crossing into colorado

Sorry this i out of order!  Me and Mike were catching up from he day we missed and he published his assignment 'day seven' before I could.  

To begin day 6 we woke early on Saturday morning, caught a quick breakfast and departed Las Vegas, NM.  We rode up highway 518, which is a beautiful road with numerous winding curves which climb through terrains with different tree types (juniper, pines, fir/spruce, aspen).  At one of the pull-offs we met a great Iowa girl, Suzie Konz, who teaches at Oklahoma State who chose to drive through New Mexico for her break instead of going home because she knew her parents would not respect her degrees, which are many, and make her work!  Suzie, I hope they don’t get the opportunity to read this!  We said goodbye and descended the mountain into Taos.  From here, we crossed into Colorado, our tenth state, and came into the little town of San Luis.  San Luis is the oldest town in Colorado and, more important to Mike and me, has a small restaurant called Café Rosa Mystica, where we had a great lunch.  Meredith, the owner gave us great service and sent us on our way.  If you’re ever in San Luis try it out.  Steve Tingle recommended that we see the Great Sand Dunes National Park.  This is one of the truly interesting to the point of weird points of interest our country has to offer.  These are Sahara-like dunes in the middle of the country at the foot of a mountain range but unlike the Sahara, they have a river running by their base.  Weird is the best word I can think of.  Mike and I left the park headed for Monarch.  On the way we ran into first rain and then hail.  It is impressive to have ice start “tinking” on your helmet and then begin to hit your knees, arms, etc.  Michael and I even joked about our being Presbyterian after one particularly large piece of hail hit him in a particularly bad area!  Whatever your religious persuasion we can all agree that a hail storm on a motorcycle is a bad thing.  We made it to a campsite called Shavano near Maysville, CO.  Mike says he always lays awake all night when he camps out.  He slept like a baby.  I, however, stayed awake hoping no one came around to run us out of the as yet unopened campground, hoping the bears didn’t eat us and most practically of all, hoping I didn’t have to get up and use the bathroom more than once!  No one bothered us and the bears left us alone but I got up three times!  I know, TMI.  See you in the next episode of the continuing saga of the Martin mototrip.

day seven: two miles high on the "million dollar highway"

Well, we started the day off in the tent at Shavano. It was about 30 degrees outside, and dad was ready to roll out as soon as the sun came up (on account of a very poor night's sleep). The bikes were a little reluctant to crank (they can be a bit cold-blooded) but we got them running and made the short trip over Monarch Pass to Gunnison, CO (about 50 miles). With the sun not being fully up (which is the usual case at 6:30 a.m.) and the wind chill, we were feeling frost-bitten by the time we arrived, so we made a b-line for the first coffee house we could find. We lingered there for a while, drinking a few cups of coffee and eating breakfast as we thawed. From Gunnison, we pushed-on to Crested Butte, which is a bit of a personal favorite spot in the Martin family (it's where we go ski when we can make it out there). The drive was pleasant and beautiful--as the snow melts in the spring, CO really comes to life with green pastures, roaring rivers, and colorful wildflowers.

This next part is just going to sound wrong, but it happened so take it as you will. When we arrived in CB, we were a little hungry and very thirsty, so we did what anyone would have done. We walked in the Brick Oven Pizza House/Pub for a slice of pizza and a beer, forgetting that a) it was Sunday, and b) it was 10:15 in the morning! Haha, the waitress seemed fairly surprised. We tried to explain that we were from SC and that we were still working on eastern time, but realized that drinking at 12:15 on Sunday isn't much better than drinking at 10:15. She no doubt has concluded that SC must be a haven for raging alcholics. Anyway, she asked us to at least wait until 11 when they officially opened. We agreed to come back.

So with a few minutes to kill, we knocked around the town and warmed ourselves in the sun. We had parked our bikes beside some other bikes on the street, and presently the owners of the bikes--two couples, the Aumillers and the Davis'--came out into the street. We all introduced ourselves and ended up chatting for some time. The Aumillers were out on a practice ride in preparation for an impending trip to the east coast, and the Davis' (who were from Gunnison) were simply sharing in the fun of a Sunday cruise. Both couples were very nice/interesting and offered their hospitality if we should ever find ourselves in the area again.

We had originally planned on continuing through CB on a smaller mountain road "Kebler Pass," but were informed by a local proprietor that the pass was still closed from the winter. Feeling slightly bummed, we returned to Gunnison the way we came and struck out on hwy. 50 west toward Montrose. We passed through Montrose and picked up hwy 550 south towards Ouray, Silverton and Durango. It's worth stopping here to point out that Ouray is one of the most beautiful towns I've ever seen. It really looks like it should be in Switzerland. It's situated at about 7,000 feet, but the mountains rise up around it on all sides to elevations of 10 or 12,000 ft. Pictures that we took just don't cut it.

As 550 leaves Ouray, it inclines at an incredible rate and takes on the name "Million Dollar Highway." We were informed by some locals that it got its name from the mining days when large quantities of gold and silver were pulled from the Red Mountain/Silverton area. It will be hard for me to paint a picture of what the road was like, but I'll try. And I'll start by saying that it was truly one of the most amazing and exilerating things I've ever done. Within six or seven miles of roadway, you climb from 7,000(ish) ft. to 11,500(ish) ft--just to put that in perspective, it's two miles high!! The road is very narrow, with the rock wall of the mountain on one side, and most of the time little more than a foot of asphalt outside of the lane on the other. No guard rails, no nothing. As you climb, the drop from the road to the gorge below grows to hundreds of feet. It really seemed like something from a cartoon, and was quite unnerving to think about. The road was nothing but switchbacks--signs posting recommended speeds of 10m.p.h. For anyone who rides motorcycles this is probably sounding like heaven on earth--and it absolutely was. If you can take your eyes off of the narrow road for a few seconds, you'll see enormous cliffs and mountains covered in trees and snow and gushing waterfalls. Once we reached the pinnacle of one pass, we would do the the same routine on the backside decline. The road continued from one pass to another, and we spent a good 45 minutes riding at altitudes of 8,500-11,500ft. It was quite impressive. And as much fun as it was, we couldn't help feeling a sense of relief when we made the final descent into Silverton. Dad walked out of the gas station in Silverton holding a bottle of water that he had purchased, claiming his head was hurting from the altitude. I knew it must have been bad if he was buying a water instead of the usual Coke, Cherry Coke, Diet Coke, Moutain Dew, etc. Haha, his love for sodas knows few bounds indeed.  Unfortunately, due to the narrowness of the road, we were unable to pull-off and get some pictures...bummer.

Hwy. 550 from Silverton to Durango was much the same. And that doesn't at all mean that it grew tiresome or uneventful. Every turn brought a new breathtaking view of the towering, snow-capped San Juan Mountains. We arrived in Durango fairly early and have been enjoying the evening down-time. Supper at "Mama's Boy Italian Restaurante" was tasty and relaxing.

Noteworthy occurances:

1) Dad hitting a bird--or rather, a bird hitting dad (right in the helmet!). If you don't know what a bird colliding with a helmet at 70mph is like, simply imagine dropping a water balloon from a third story window onto a sidewalk. In case you need further elaboration, dad's helmet was the sidewalk and the bird was the water balloon! Haha, we had to pull over and wipe what looked like feces off of dad's visor and helmet. Dad thought it appropriate to point out that he literally "knocked the dookie out of it."

2) A second bee/wasp getting caught in my clothes and stinging me! This time it flew into my collar and stung me in the neck. I don't know how this is possible...I can only laugh and swear under my breath!

Alas! It is late, and I must get to sleep (dad's a morning person, and he rises early!) Mike signing out.

A special note to Steve (if you're reading this)--One of the couples that we met in Crested Butte this afternoon was riding a 1995 carberated BMW. Kelland noted that he had to have it re-tuned to run 'lean' when he first came to CO. It appears that the altitude is indeed the culprit for the lack of power in my bike. It reminded me of the little engine that could today. Other than being sluggish, it seems to be doing just fine--but I'm sure it will appreciate returning to lower altitudes over the next few days. Thanks again for the mechanical help!

day five: big, big, flat, arid New Mexico

Well, we're in Las Vegas (New Mexico, not Nevada) tonight--let me tell yall how we got here (Dad--who is already asleep--will be sad that I stole his favorite responsibility). Firstly, I'd like to say that God is so good. We know this, but his nature never fails to leave me in a state of reflective wonder.

We started the day in Carlsbad, NM. We made the 30-minute trip from the actual town of Carlsbad to the caverns early in the morning. I will give yall the short version by simply saying that those caverns are a vast manifestation of God's creativity and beauty. Dad made the comment that it was pretty amazing that He'd go to the trouble of creating something so intricate and beautiful underneath the ground. We took about 3 million pictures which probably won't be worth one first-hand look at the caverns--a camera just can't capture it. We actually took so many pictures that we killed the camera, so the one picture at the top of this post is actually one from yesterday--we'll be able to upload the new pictures as soon as the camera charges back up.

After a couple of hours at the caves, we left for northern NM with the goal of reaching Colorado. This did not happen. After yesterday's long haul, the 350ish miles that we planned on covering seemed to grow and grow into a big, hairy, unbeatible giant. Also, we had a few setbacks. Firstly, there was the raging windstorm in Roswell that had us riding down the road leaning at a 45-degree angle (this figure is not factual, but is rather an exaggeration of the actual angle between the road and our bikes, but the point is that it's very hard to ride in these conditions). I think the aliens caused it. Dad disagrees. The dust from the storm made things 25 yards away hard to see, and gave dad a pretty lousy headache. Don't feel sorry for him though. Without something to blame he might actually have to face the hard fact that I'm simply a better, tougher and meaner rider than he is! Haha.

Secondly, my motorcycle got a little ornery in the latter part of the day. I consulted the master mechanic Steve Tingle, who suggested that the higher elevation or a bad tank of gas could be the cause (among about 1,000 other possibilities--he was a good sport to offer help from 2,000 miles away based on my novice assessments of the problems).

After a long day of traveling through the hot, flat, arid landscape of southern NM, we finally reached the nothern plateau and mountainous region. I must say that seeing the sun set over fields of green grass and trees with a backdrop of huge mountains and mesas was one of the most stunning things I've ever seen. I think that landscape and that sunset perfectly matched the image I've had in my head of what this trip would be like (the image I've had in my head for 20 years). Hwy 219, which was just a cut-through on the map, turned out to be a real gem--we're blessed to have experienced it.

So here we are in Las Vegas. We got here around sundown. The temperature has dropped from like 100 degrees to 60...and we were actually cold for the first time on this trip on our way back from Wal-Mart this evening. I sure like the town though.

And that about does it! I say 'about' because I haven't included the daily hightlights yet. So, without any further ado...

1) Lunch of saltines and sardines and a nap in the middle of nowhere flatlands of New Mexico--that strong wind will put you right to sleep when clouds are covering the sun and you're laying on your back with your head propped-up.

2) Playing leap-frog over the past two days with these two riders from Kansas. Great guys. We got to meat them at Carlsbad Caverns this morning. We recognized them as 'the guys that blew our doors-off on the way into Carlsbad last night.' They passed us again this evening. I don't think we're alone in our month-long cross-country trek.

K, sorry so long. Signing out for now.

-M

day four: Faulkner, and finishing Texas

Well we made it. 516 miles and about 11 hours later we’re in Carlsbad, New Mexico. Our trip total is now just under 1800 miles and we are now in our 9th state. The plan is to go to the Cavern tomorrow to check things out. Initially, Mike and I thought it might be cool to see the bats (supposedly millions of them) emerge from the cave at dusk. There were two problems with that plan: 1. We arrived in Carlsbad (the town) at about dusk meaning that unless the bats wanted to travel to us we were going to miss them and, 2. Our driving moxie ran out about 100 miles ago and the bats seemed somehow less important than this morning at the start of the trip. Mel said, “Ooh, you and Mike would be like Batman-covered and surrounded with bats! I said, “If you mean covered with bat guano then your probably right!” Mike and I got really hot today in the hill country of Texas and decided to ride a while without our Olympia jackets. If you’ve ever seen these things they make us look like moving highlighters and incite comments like, “Hey, nice jacket (snort, snicker) or, “Could you guys cut those things off. The light hurts my eyes.” The net effect was that we were much less visible at least until I turned kind of a glowing red. I didn’t wear gloves today so my hands are fried. Soon people will be saying, “Hey, what’s wrong with your hands.” They are already doing that about my eyes (I mentioned those last night). Mike continues to be energetic, ready to ride more miles and fairly unaffected. His comments about my being an old man and threats to leave me behind have had a strange sort of encouragement-like effect on me- not actually encouraging but encouragement-like.

At lunch today Mike and I stopped at an abandoned old Texas farmhouse. It was sad and interesting and rundown all at the same time. The house was surrounded by Osage Orange trees with their massive thorns of various sizes and ages with other family remnants like an old lunch box in the weeds. It reminded me of a Faulkner quote. He said, “the house was shimmering in its dilapidation . . . .” Mike is putting a picture of it on. See what you think.

We met a nice family today. Matt and Sally and their two sons, Phillip and Alex were traveling from Amarillo to Houston for their daughter’s college graduation. Congratulations guys! Mike and I encouraged Matt to follow up on taking his guys for a similar ride on their graduations. Let us know how that works out.

Tomorrow we go to Carlsbad Cavern in the morning and then leave for Colorado in the afternoon. Carlsbad is our sort of jumping off point for the part of the trip we are really excited about. We had to get here to do all the rest. Anyway, another great day. We’ll keep you up to date.

P.S. On a personal note from me specifically, I wanted to give a quick shout out to the best veterinary staff in the states. Marsha, you need to get your bike back out. Alison, I am getting a taste of what you and Buddy experienced lat summer. Ange, I’m going to give you that bike ride when I get back. Summer, I’d give you a ride but I know your doctors wouldn’t let you even if Branyon did! Catherine, are you and Kristy missing me yet? Don’t answer that! I miss you guys. Thanks for keeping the place running

day three: Loo-ziana to Texas

We’re back. Day three is now “in the books.” Mike and I woke up a little late this morning since we got in late last night from our over 500 mile marathon down the Natchez Trace. Mary Edwards, the proprietor of the hotel we stayed in last night, took good care of us and gave Michael a hug to send us on our way. The morning looked a little foreboding with sullen, gray rain clouds covering eastern Louisiana. Mike and I had already scripted our best ending of the day and the details of our plan did not include rain. As it turned out, we experienced some high winds which can be very tiring and, combined with passing 18-wheelers, can be dangerous. We traveled highway 84 west all day. Louisiana was as expected after a great deal of recent rain. The fields were flat and covered with water. The bayous were full and the rivers overflowing. We drove through Cajun country although the locals called them “Coonasses .” I’m not kidding! Western Louisiana and eastern Texas were unimpressive accounting for the scarcity of pictures from the area. As we got further into Texas hill country I began to see how I might be able to live here- you know, have about 10,000 acres to run my cattle and horses on just like J.R. on South Fork! Mike and I ate lunch today in Timpson, Texas. It sounds like Clemson in that, although Clemson has no “p” it is often pronounced that way. We went through some pretty Texas towns. Two of our favorites were Palestine and Fairfield. Both towns were small but very clean. Our total distance today is not as impressive as yesterday’s 554 miles, having traveled a mere 361 miles but it was enough in the Texas heat. The heat and humidity combined to cause a recurrence of a condition which my ophthalmologist diagnosed as “allergic episcleritis.” I prefer to call it by its more common name, “Satan eyes.” It looks like conjunctivitis but is not contagious. It’s hard to explain this to local people who shake hands with you and run to the nearest bathroom to wash. Michael and I continue to work through our various maladies and are actually getting conditioned to the daily pounding. That’s about all for today. We’re planning another long one tomorrow trying to make it to Carlsbad, New Mexico. We’ll let you know if we make it!

day two: "that low-rent tank bag"

Well, Michael and I just completed our second day having just arrived in Jonesville, Louisiana. (I don’t know where it is either- somewhere west of Natchez, Mississippi on Hwy 84). We’ve been on the road since about 9AM and have reached the end of our day at11:30PM having ridden 554 miles. (Because I’m the OCD member of our small group that figure is accurate to within 3/10ths of a mile) Anyway, as Mike and I sit eating sardines and saltine crackers we thought we’d recount the day for you. We started from Monteagle, Tennessee and rode west on 64. The initial part of the ride was a lot of fun. It was a short 5 miles of curving twisting road with a speed limit of 35 MPH which Michael and I observed assiduously (look it up). After this we rode through some beautiful Tennessee farmland until we caught the Natchez Trace going toward . . .well, Natchez. While the Trace was a veritable hellhole in the early 1800’s according to local history, it was fairly tame today. It really resembled a flatter, less winding Blue Ridge Parkway. We stopped along the Parkway for a short lunch which became a lunch, nap and pipe-smoking event. We met a neat older Harley biker from Wisconsin named Dan Anderson, while we were stopped there. Mike and I got off the Parkway to buy the fixings for supper in Tupelo and no, we didn’t see “the King.” Somewhere below Tupelo back on the Parkway I began to drop various articles from my bungeed collection. I turned around successfully to clean up the mess but failed on the second turn around and dumped my bike in the middle of the road! And it was all because of that low-rent tank bag (hence, the title). It sits right in the center of the tank close to my handlebars and prevents me turning as sharply as needed and the bag blows the horn when I turn sharply to signal others to take note of my ineptness! Mike had to stop and help me pick the bloated monster up and get me going again. I told Michael that if I did that again I was leaving and walking home. He said if I did it again, he’d let me.

Anyway Mike and I have arrived safely at a resting place of sorts for the end of our second day. WE are now in our seventh state and should cross into the big one, Texas sometime tomorrow. Along the way we have catalogued numerous biker maladies from the mundane right wrist cramp and sore from the saddle to the more risqué ones which, for the sake of our friends who may read this, we will choose to leave out all together.

day one: realizing the dream

OK, so the first day is officially history- as in, “we’ve got it under our belts!” Mike and I had a great day. It was really enjoyable to contemplate the dream actually becoming reality- at least 1/30^th of it! We got up this morning and had a family breakfast. Mimi fixed waffles for the whole crew. We put off leaving until about 10 o’clock to try to avoid most of the rain. From Simpsonville we rode to Highlands, NC where we got some wicked-good barbecue at the Rib House. If you ever get the chance it’s worth trying. From here we caught 64 West, which runs, with a few interruptions, all the way to the Natchez trace. We didn’t make it all the way there today (our original day-end destination) but after a little confusing riding through the actual downtown area of Chattanooga, we were able to get on 75 South and then 24 West until we finally arrived at our next jumping off point for the 12^th, which was Monteagle, Tennessee. After riding around in town for about 30 minutes looking for a campsite we finally settled on camping at the Monteagle Best Western- you can never be too particular about your choice for a campsite and we felt that this one would do OK on the spur of the moment. The deciding factor on this site was the softness of the ground, the ready availability of showers and the presence of usable electricity to charge all the high-tech camping equipment we brought! Stay tuned for tomorrow’s posting!

-A