Passes & Canyons Blog

Time to relax after a 300-mile day.

As the crow flies it is about 175 miles from Grants, New Mexico, to Red River. Of course that’s not how roads go but sometimes, if you really try, you can make the ride a whole lot longer. On this recent RMMRC New Mexico ride, we made it about 300.

Grants to Red River is northeast, so we started by going west. That’s because there’s really no way to make that run going east without going through or around Albuquerque. No fun. Plus, that would have entailed riding all the way from Grants to Albuquerque on I-40. Extra no fun.

Instead, we headed west on I-40 about 25 miles to Thoreau, and then turned north. But first, barely getting going, I noticed that Charley, riding sweep, was nowhere to be seen. It turned out that just as he was getting on the highway his glasses simply fell apart. Unable to put them back together there on the spot, he pulled out some prescription sunglasses and put those on, then cranked it to catch up.

Seeing that he wasn’t behind me, I slowed down a lot. Once he caught up with me I tried catching up with the other guys but they were blasting. I was hitting 95 at times and couldn’t catch up, although when we passed a radar sign the other day it said I was going seven mph slower than what my speedometer was saying, so who knows how fast I was really going.

The others pulled off at the next exit, Milan, which is where we caught up with them. We sat there a little while, during which time we chatted a bit with some guys on dirt bikes. Then we were off again.

At Thoreau we headed north on NM 371, and then reached CR 9, which turned east. We were on the rim of a basin right there, heading into the basin, and as far as I could see we were heading into a lot of nothing. That told me this next stretch was going to be long and mostly straight. And it was. Plus, a mileage sign said Cuba, our next destination, 94 miles.

So we cruised along a ways and came to an intersection of a road coming up from the south and there were three dirt bikes parked there. I wondered if those were those same guys. If so, either we took a longer route than we might have or they rode on gravel. Who knew?

After awhile we came upon maybe the biggest array of solar panels any of us has ever seen. There was a little store there and we were overdue for a stop so we did. Meanwhile, apparently the dirt bikers went past us while we were in there because when we stopped in Cuba there they were again. I asked and they said they came up on the road from where we’d seen them and it was paved and a nice road. Some of the navigation on this trip has not been the best, it seems. But it can be really hard to know what a road is like with just maps.

We headed on from Cuba, presumably to Alcalde and to the south end of Taos to do the Angel Fire loop. At some point Gene took the lead and we were headed the route I expected and then he made a left turn. I forgot my maps on this trip so for maybe the first time ever I was not able to check and see where we were and what our route was. But this seemed wrong.

We kept going north then turned east past a sign saying Ojo Caliente ahead. I thought oh man! Ojo Caliente? Why are we so far north? And then we hit US 285 and Ojo Caliente was south and we turned north. I thought, oh man, if we take 285 up to Tres Piedras and go east we’ll be on US 64 headed for the north end of Taos. And I decided if that happened I would go left to Questa regardless of what everyone else did.

But we didn’t go to Tres Piedras, we turned east on what turned out to be a cut-off. Nobody ahead of me stopped to make sure folks behind made the turn so I did, but I wasn’t really in a place where they could see me in time to make the turn. Bruce did made the turn, and Charley, but Bruce said later he knew about the turn and would not have seen me in time. We reached US 64 just west of the Rio Grande Gorge and yes, that’s where we were.

Coming up to the NM 150 intersection, Gene pulled over and said we had two options: go left to Questa and over and beat the rain or go through Taos and head right into the belly of the beast. “Look at that over there.” The sky “over there” was as dark and ugly as you could imagine.

We headed to Questa. We got to Red River and got checked in, then sat out on the deck drinking, smoking cigars, and talking. And then about the time we were heading out to dinner the rain arrived. Two days in a row now that we dodged it while on the bikes. Our luck continued to hold.

Biker Quote for Today

Happiness is a motorcycle, a full tank of gas and twisty roads.

How lucky Tom was to have a sag wagon along on this trip.

It was only a terrific stroke of luck for Tom that when his motorcycle died in Arizona on one of the loneliest, most out-of-the-way roads around that Dave was right behind with his Ford F-250 pick-up and a trailer. Dave had planned on doing the ride but then had surgery the week before and couldn’t ride. On the morning of our departure, on the spur of the moment, he decided to heck with it, he was going even if that meant he had to drive. And as long as he was driving the F-250 he figured he might as well bring along his trailer, just in case someone needed it. And Tom did.

How much would a tow truck have cost to get him anywhere the bike could be worked on, and then how long might he have to stay in that town until parts arrived? We’re talking a significant chunk of cash here. As it turned out, the problem was just in the switch that keeps you from riding off with your side-stand down, so not expensive to fix at all. But Tom had the leisure of handling the problem back at home and the only cost, besides not getting to do the rest of the trip on his bike, was paying Dave for gas.

Not surprisingly, this whole situation has ignited a discussion within the RMMRC. Perhaps it would be nice to have a sag wagon along on all our long trips. After all, it was just last year that Dave was the one with a problem–bad stator on his Beemer–that resulted in him staying in Minnesota while the rest of us rode on home. Then he had to deal with this away-from-home dealer rather than the local shop he knows and where they know him.

Of course the real issue here could simply be, who among us wants to make the trip but not ride? Somebody would have to drive the truck. Well, the RMMRC has another long trip coming up soon, out to the Columbia River and the Cascades. And Tom has volunteered to be the driver. If, he adds, everyone else pays for his gas.

It would be like insurance. Everyone pays a little, hoping truthfully to get nothing in return, but really happy to have the coverage if you do need it.

This pay-for-the-gas provision has generated some discussion. Initially some people were immediately willing to pay it; some others were hesitant. On its own the cost would not be negligible–except compared to a huge towing bill. An F-250 gets about 15 miles per gallon. Let’s figure $3.50 per gallon, and a 3,200-mile trip, like this Columbia River thing. That would be about 213 gallons, with a total cost of about $745. Let’s say there are 10 guys going; that would be about $75 each for insurance. You see where this is heading?

Suppose eight guys are willing to pay but two are not. If one of them does break down then what? We’re not going to abandon them. Maybe at that point they have to make the choice to pay the entire gas cost or else figure out some other way out of their predicament. I mean, at that point if one of the guys who paid for the insurance broke down he would not have his sag wagon available that he was paying for. That totally doesn’t work.

If you just decided, as a group, that anyone going had to join in on the insurance are you going to drive people away? Nobody wants to do that.

And even if everyone is paying, what are you going to do if more than one person breaks down?

To get some perspective, let’s look at what would happen without a sag wagon. Just last year, coincidentally not 50 miles from where Tom had his problem, Bill had a problem. He hit a big rock in the road and bent his wheel, causing the tire to lose air with no possibility of reinflating. Amazingly, the tire did not go flat until we reached our day’s destination.

After exploring several options what he finally ended up doing was getting a tow to the next town, where a shop put in a tube that we figured had solved the problem. That tow cost about $150 and delayed our next day’s start till 3 p.m. on our longest day of the trip. But we handled it and we rode on. (Although by the time we got to Farmington the tube had lost air and the next morning Bill paid $2,000 for a new tire and wheel at the local Harley shop. At home he figures he would have gotten the wheel and tire for half that.)

As a different example, in 2018 on an OFMC trip we had a major disruption when Dennis unknowingly put diesel fuel in his Indian. Obviously we didn’t have a sag wagon so we replicated one. That is, Dennis made phone calls and then we rode him over to the nearest town where there was a U-Haul shop, he rented a truck and we went back to his bike, we loaded his bike on, and we altered our course to go to the nearest Indian dealer. It wasn’t cheap, especially since it was a one-way rental on the U-Haul. But we made it work. And it cost Dennis a pile of money.

In short, there is no obvious best answer. Perhaps the thing that will keep this from becoming too much of a dilemma is what I mentioned before: Who wants to get stuck driving the truck? Tom is willing on this next trip but then what? Who? Certainly not me–I came to ride!

Biker Quote for Today

A dirt bike is like your buddy. A road bike is your lover.

Lunch time in Quemado.

Leaving Silver City on Day Four of the RMMRC‘s recent New Mexico trip we enjoyed the benefits of taking a different route than planned the day before. In addition to enjoying the fabulous US 191, which we would have missed entirely, we now rode north on US 180, the route we would have been backtracking on if we had not taken US 191. So now it was a new road, not a repeat.

And make no mistake, US 180 is a very nice road, going through some really nice terrain. The day before, when the decision was made to take 191 I was displeased because I knew what a nice road we were missing, while not suspecting what a great road we had in store.

We headed north, through Buckhorn, Alma, to Rancho Grande Estates, where we turned east on NM 12, to Apache Creek, where we turned north on NM 32, to Quemado. The last time I had been on this road was in 2018 when the OFMC was on what I dubbed “the Chipseal Tour.” At that time this entire 38-mile stretch was being chip-sealed and that was really about all we paid attention to. This time it was just smooth road and I got to enjoy the road and the country. And like the run up US 180, it was a nice road to ride.

We got to Quemado and figured it was time for lunch and gas. One question we’d had earlier was whether we might like to go a little further east on US 60 to a place called Pie Town. The main thing going on in that town is that they sell pie. How inviting is that? The problem would have been that it is another 20 or so miles out of our way, which would have made it a nearly 40-mile side trip, just for lunch. Did we want to do that? Plus, the sky was looking pretty threatening. We had decided we would put off any decision until we got to Quemado.

So we got to Quemado and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, which turned out to be closed. Was there another restaurant in town? We weren’t sure. We had noticed a road running northwest out of Pie Town that connected to our route a bit to the north–was that road paved?

Our deliberations were interrupted by a woman who drove over to us and got out. Were we looking for a restaurant? There is a really nice one just up the street past the gas station. And by the way, she owns them both and due to a labor shortage they each close on different days of the week. We asked her about the road out of Pie Town and she said it definitely is not paved and it is a dirt road you really, really do not want to get caught on if it rains–which is what the sky was seriously threatening. We ate at her second place up the street.

After lunch we headed out in a hurry but there was no need for speed–the clouds were going the other way and we stayed completely dry. We took NM 36 north to where it connected with NM 117, which runs northeast through El Malpais National Monument. No surprise that this is a very pretty area, too, and if I had been in the lead we would have stopped at Ventana Arch, a big arch very near the road with a parking area. But I wasn’t and we didn’t.

We reached I-40 four miles east of Grants, our stop for the night. We got gas right there and then had the option of blasting four miles on the interstate to town or taking a four-mile stretch of old Route 66 to town. Most of us chose Route 66. Bad, bad choice.

I didn’t see what happened with the guys ahead of me but just before we got onto that stretch of road I noticed a pilot car parked next to the road. Some construction going on? Immediately ahead it was obvious from the very clear difference in appearance that some work had been done on the road. In another second I knew what the work had been, it was chip seal. And apparently, earlier that day, when the crew got to their stopping point they had just dumped all their remaining gravel right there.

I hit about four inches of completely loose gravel and fish-tailed wildly, struggling to keep the bike up. Charley, behind me, tells me he saw me fish-tailing and at least had some time to prepare but nevertheless found himself fish-tailing wildly, too. After that first part the gravel wasn’t so deep but we had four miles of the stuff to ride through to get to Grants. It was a slow, unsteady ride. I was just glad I was on the V-Strom and not the Concours.

Within minutes of reaching the motel the skies did finally open up. After dodging rain all day we were off the bikes when it finally hit. Nice.

Biker Quote for Today

“Damn, buying that motorcycle was a bad investment,” said no one ever.