derailed

i am certain it would surprise scott and others whom i have ridden with on the divide, that i was on my bike yesterday (8/22) by 6:30. my goal was to make it to grants, nm, by the end of the day, before engaging with the final 6-day push to antelope wells.

the day before, i had ridden from abiquiu to about 25-miles south of cuba, in a big, 85-mile day with around 5,800 feet of climbing. the last 2 hours were on pavement, but into the teeth of a firm southeast wind whose only function appeared to: 1) slow me down; and 2) stir up the voluminous roadside litter, which is truly an ethical aesthetic stain on the citizens of new mexico.

when i look back, yesterday will be the day of the trip i will remember most because of its drama and emotions and of course, the omnipresence of trail angels, some of whom, know each other.

perhaps angel collusion?

i had camped in a rogue site on blm land. it was sheltered by junipers and though the previous day had been stifling, sunset brought a drop in temperatures that induced deep sleep almost immediately.

slept like a baby.

with daylight i got up, packed my tent, ate a remnant breakfast burrito from bode’s in abiquiu, and hit the gravel/sand/bedrock/manure-covered roadway that would define my day’s path.

one thing that weighed on me was water. i had chosen this route, rather than the more expeditious, paved alternate because, despite grousing about chunk and washboarding and other roadway maladies, the more challenging path was more beautiful, with a traverse through incredible sedimentary landscapes and a transition to high desert, replete with cactus and other flora stars of the western us’s xeric landscapes.

the water concern was notable because the route had water sources identified…at least in an historic context…without revealing if water was currently present. still, i was confident i could replenish along the way, which was assuredly a silly position to take.

i woke up with 3 liters, with an intent to tap the homestake well, 10 miles ahead, which was described as a reliable water source.

in doing so, i was relying on information that may, or may not have been accurate.

bad billy…bad bad billy.

a half hour after departing, i came up to a large pockmark of muddy water across the road. as i approached i chose my line towards the left of the puddle and used my “don’t look at the front wheel” single track skills to moved on a straight path without hitting the rut walls and likely, falling in mud.

curious about the water source, i stopped and walked back towards the water, there, no more than a foot from the tracks i had just made, was a 5’ long rattle snake, apparently nonplussed by my passing, and likely waiting for a morning meal of heteromyidaen stew.

it was an omg moment because i didn’t see the snake on my virgin pass. but quickly realized a bobble or a different line could have been a different story. the only thing working in my favor was the snake’s torpor, but don’t get me wrong, this could have been a fatal mistake on my part.

for the next hour of pedaling, i was in “what if” mode. i also realized that i had best start paying attention to my ride and what i needed to keep me going, which was water.

as i approached the gps location of the homestake well, it became apparent that it was not adjacent to the trail, but a considerable hike down a poorly defined trail, which immediately placed it into the “i don’t think so” resource category.

the decision to not go to homestake brought a more imminent sense of crisis, because without water, i was in peril.

the next potential water source on the aca app was “ojo caliente”, which i believe translates to “warm cow soup”.

the aca said “unreliable water source” and i don’t know what that means, because when i pedaled up, i saw sunlight shimmering on the pool of water and upon closer approach, realized it was an active spring. there were aquatic insects and the water was cool to the touch.

as i prepared to filter, a couple of cows lumbered down to party, and they started to slurp at the water. i tried to humiliate and chase them away, but like me, the draw of water is very strong in ojo caliente.

i filtered 4 liters of water and told myself “i can make grants now.”

that was very presumptuous of me. the temperature climbed and the path approaching, then down, then up the endless valleys of the new mexican arroyo started to take a toll. the four liters became three, and hydration started to fester again in my brain.

despite an omnipresent sense of crisis (was there really a crisis, or was i being melodramatic? or was entering the desert a different bailiwick than the temperate, water-rich geology of the north? most notably, how endeared and/or conditioned was i to the notion that everything would be okay)?

at about noon, the winds picked up and i settled into a mix of winds both for and against me.

my aca app, with water urgency again on my “urgent” list. suggested a forthcoming “windmill”, identified as a “possible” water source and so, i peaked my attention to the approaching horizon for a windmill.

when finally approached, i saw that the old image of a windmill (wooden blades spinning in my youth) was gone. instead, the “modern” windmill had solar panels and a mechanical pump at the top of the trellised spire. as a real-life off-grider, i found my hopes rise, knowing that this was an active well.

i got to the access and walked towards the well. the tanks were dry and no water flowed from the pipe. the outlet was a slough of dried cattails and sedges.

it may be active, but it had been a while since it brought goodness to the ground.

i immediately entered a “what do i do now?” moment.

i cataloged remaining “water needed” v distance “left to pedal,” and there were a few more “potential” water sources ahead, but i was weary of potential and wanted the assurance that the next source“flows like an alpine stream (albeit, not a stream near summitville, co).

just then, i heard and then saw a truck approach from the west. i waved the single-armed, “bikepacker signal” of silent dispair, and a window streamed down.

i asked if he knew a good water source and said the well wasn’t operating. he replied, “it’ll work if i turn it on…do you need some water?”

his name was leo sandoval, and his family has been on this land for over a century.. the well is located in sandoval county, if that’s necessary for further historical connectivity. we shook hands and he dropped down into the belly of the well. i heard a click and soon, pure, cold water flowed from the pipe.

leo told me that when he makes pots of beans, he comes to get this water because “it is the best”.

when i met leo, i had two liters of water. when i shook his hand good-bye, i had eight.

leo sandavol is a trail angel.

my visit with leo was completely heartening. he told of his interactions with bikepackers, both good and bad. when i left, he said “if you were an asshole, i wouldn’t have turned on the well.”

best validation ever!!!

from there, my legs and brain reengaged and i was back “on the divide.”

enough time of half-hearted pedaling had already occurred that even with a focused effort, i might not make grants, but would get within 20 miles and that would be perfect for the final week to mexico.

trail angels. where would i be without trail angels?

five miles after i left leo, i climbed up a steep draw, leveled out and felt the wind push me into a bigger gear.

the weariness was gone. it was like i just woke up and was reinvigorated by a return to pedaling.

isolated volcanic peaks loomed over the sedimentary basin like sentinels. the sense of native reverence for the landscape is profound…i was going to finish the divide and then…

i heard a swift woosh and felt my rear tire go flat, instantly.

i got off the bike and saw sealant escaping in a gurgled gush. i pried at the tire and the bead had separated from the sidewall. for a tire, this was a worst case scenario.

once all the air had escaped, i picked at the tire and the separation was almost 2” long… a bad 2”.

when i replaced my tires in salida, i had a talk with the absolute bike manager, telling him i “have a bad history with maxxis tires, and especially with sidewalls.”

he replied, “i stand by these and think you will be happy with them.”

as a guffaw-ish customer dropping $500 at a bike shop, that was what i needed to hear.

more heroin please.

seeing the bead separation meant i will be speaking with the absolute manager in the not-so-distant future.

other than a broken spoke going into butte, montana, i have had no mechanical issues. my beargrease has been a rock, and while the tire issue was a problem, it wasn’t an insurmountable problem. in fact, my plan was to insert a tube and limp my way towards grant. problem solved.

i thought.

i pulled the tire and inserted the tube, while being slathered by tire sealant and sweat. the bead was so tight that it bent my lever. then i looked at the rear rim and saw multiple cracks.

over the past few days, i had noticed a bit more wobble in my rear wheel; a wobble i attributed to the broken spoke in butte. now, after seeing the rim cracks, i had entered an ominous chapter of my divide journey.

this was a serious problem, both mechanically and logistically. mechanically, because without wheels, you are not a bike (duh). logistically, because i suddenly needed to replace both my wheel and tire and…i needed to now walk the 14-miles with a fully loaded bike with a flat, rear tire.

suddenly, there were dark clouds looming, and rather than pedaling from point a to point b, i was calculating how long it would take me to walk out and then, what i would do when reattached to civilization.

i walked for two miles and then, heard only the second vehicle on the road in almost 45 miles.

i turned and squeezed to the side of the road. the truck stopped and a head bobbed out of the window and asked if i was okay.

at that moment. at that time, after 2300 miles of riding and 140,000 feet of climbing, acknowledging the failure of my bike, without an accessible bike shop or transport to the same, meant my ride was over.

just like when leo turned on that well switch, and water was released, my emotions were loosed,

i stood on the side of the road, in the company of three strangers and cried.

joey hopped out of the truck and shook my hand.

“what do you need to do?”

“i need to get to a bike shop and get to grants.”

“i am headed to grants, after i drop off my mom and aunt…i can give you a ride…let’s get your bike in the back of the truck.”

mary, the mom and christine, the aunt, saw that i was under duress. they did not interject, they did not minimize. when a stranger emotes, they do so for a reason.

and while my reason for crying was substantive…the loss of a life challenge, the loss of a dream, what was most profound was that i was again being swept up by trail angels.

we rode down the bumpy road for an hour. during that time, i saw that both a ride or a walk would have tested my ability and limits.

i told them of my leo sandoval experience and yes, the truck full of strangers were related to leo.

the dynamic of the family was soothing. there were histories and memories tucked into the sedimentary overlooks and valleys. they saw elk where i saw sage and cactus, and when joey slowed down, i too, saw the elk. auntie and mom talked about dead-end roads and overlooks where they partied during their youth. the sisters talked about piñon nut harvests, and of their father’s last year, when he insisted on days of nonstop piñon harvests because it made him happy.

mary handed me piñons that were not yet ready for harvest, but still hinted at their buttery goodness.

joey dropped his mom and aunt off in san mateo and we drove towards grant. on the way, he asked, “is that a fire ahead?”

sure enough, there on the side of the road, flames were creeping towards the mesquite. he pulled over and the combination of winds and the lack of rain posed a true threat.

we stomped and joey emptied his cooler of water,

joey called his mom and asked her to call the fire department. he ran out of water and then i realized i still had 8 liters of water from leo’s well.

soon, the fire had surrendered and joey and drank a beer as a reward. then i noted the irony of leo’s intervention in my life and the transfer of his gift to another aspect of life in new mexico.

i think joey knew.

we rode into grants and joey gave me the historic route 66 tour. he is a proud man, proud of his heritage, and proud of his family.

i told him he was yet another trail angel in my life and he accepted that.

he knew that had he and his mom and aunt not decided to take a ride yesterday, i could easily be three days away from grants.

joey dropped me off at a hotel, we hugged and i gave him the last money i had. at first he refused, but then accepted when i told him that trail angels probably don’t need money, but the people they are, do.

my trip is over.

i cannot expeditiously replace a rear wheel and have accepted that. abandoning a bucket-list trip on the divide is a loss and i am grieving, because after leo turned on his well, i saw no impediment to completing the divide.

i am a changed person because of what i did and didn’t do.

there is an inherent goodness in people, and that is truly more profound than the mountains, the valleys and the richness of the divide, or the accomplishments and the miles.

trail angels saved my trip on multiple occasions, and trail angels let me know it was okay to end it.