I. Westward Ho El Paso!

I've been waiting for this week forever it seems. Too much work and too little play has made Jack a dull boy indeed!

My vapid plan was to leave early Sunday morning at daylight and make haste to El Paso by way of I-10, with intentions of continuing to Tombstone, Arizona and thereabouts. I want to explore the area, including the remote and somewhat dangerous dirt roads along the Mexican border.

I'd just gotten a new set of aluminum cases for the bike and was anxious to get them on the road and full of too much gear. Unfortunately, I ran out of time Saturday and wasn't able to get my camping gear packed in time, so it will be rough... a hot shower and hotel bed every night. So sad :(

I woke up at 5:50 am, looked around and then promptly fell back asleep. It was a rough night of wrestling with some bad fajitas... I eventually got up, scattered seed for the cows, milked the chickens and finally got the last of the gear on board.

The morning was foggy and cool and by the time the bike was warmed up the clouds were clearing and the air was brisk. It was gonna be a gorgeous day!

The ride in to Kerrville was chilly, but free of any dangerous encounters with deer or the dreaded BlueHairs. I fear them more than anything and Kerrville is the epicenter of Buicks and bluehairs. Consider it Blue Hair Nation. Trust me.

At any rate, after gassing at the Shell I was on the road at 9:30 and the throttle pegged for El Paso. The rush of excitement hit squarely as the bike hit 80 mph and the sign for "El Paso 491 miles" flew by. I knew it was gonna be a long day

After settling in for a while in the buffeting winds, I was passed by a beautiful black Aston Martin doing about 110 or so. James Bond musta had a hot date...

There was a strong headwind and the new GSA cases had more noticeable drag than my older plastic system cases. It took a while getting used to the new sensitivity - the wind definitely moves the bike a bit more. The great thing about I-10 West is that the speed limit is 80, but by the time I hit Junction I could tell the bike was sucking gas more than usual. With the head wind, drag and 5000 rpm to maintain 80-85 mph, I was nearly empty by the time I hit Sonora... yikes! My mileage had dropped to 32 mpg from the usual 42 or so. Isn't this terribly interesting?

Even more excitement - gassing up in Sonora

I filled up at the so-called "7-11" there and tho the signs look to be an actual 7-11, I'm not so sure it isn't a cheap Chinese knock off. It was the dirtiest version I've ever seen, but that didn't stop me from having a classic road trip breakfast.

Coffee and hot dog warming on Beemer cylinder heads... yuuuuuumaaay!

From Junction, the terrain slowly changes from the green, juniper-covered hills to larger vistas and plateaus west of Sonora. I hear folks complain about the flatness of west Texas but I'm not sure why. Sure, the highway meanders through the flat valleys, but the hills and plateaus around are beautiful and there are great vistas most of the way.

By the time Ozona slid past, the temps were beginning to warm up a bit from the sun, and as I reached the giant windfarms out near Ira’an, I could tell it was about time to shed the cold weather gloves and remove the liner from my jacket.

I was eyeing my shrinking fuel supply and as I neared Ft. Stockton I knew it would be close... about 18 miles out, the last bar on the display disappeared and the fuel light came on. At 60 mph, I can get about 20 or so miles after the light appears, but I wasn't sure I'd make it. I carry a couple of fuel cells for emergencies, but I didn't want the bike to die on the freeway.

Finally, the first exit came up and I pulled into the Exxon. Woohoo!

I did my routine of gloves off, helmet off, earplugs out, jacket off so I could take the liner out, unsnap the tank bag and lay it back, unlock the gas cap, dig out the wallet, slide in the credit card… Debit? NO… Authorizing… Insert fuel nozzle and select fuel type, premium... SEE ATTENDANT. Aaargh!

I go inside to hear "All the pumps are down and we don't know why". Crap, these first world problems are kilin’ me.

Reverse the routine - wallet into pocket, gas cap closed, remount tank bag, put on jacket, put in ear plugs, squeeze fat head into helmet, get on bike, put on gloves, realize key is in pocket, curse loudly, take off gloves, get off bike, get key, get back on bike, put on gloves, get the bike back on the highway and hope it doesn't die before the next exit.

The next exit down, the pumps were working. After fueling and people watching for a bit, it was back on 10 for wind and buzzing handlebars.

It's been a long time since I've been west of Ft. Stockton and the mountains and hills near Balmorrhea looked enticing, but no joy since I still had hours to go. At the merge of I-10 and I-20, the traffic picked up substantially as did the 18 wheelers, and the temperature in the area dropped about 10 degrees. I was now wishing I'd left my jacket liner in.

Settled in to my rhythmic boredom of 85, I saw a white car coming up fast behind me. I tried to determine if it was law enforcement, but in my buzzing mirrors I could only tell it was white. As it went past, at least 10 mph faster than me, I was shocked to see that it was a tiny SMART car. I couldn't believe it. I had no idea they could go that fast! I was tempted to stay with it, but chuckled instead... it was funny seeing such a tiny car going that fast.

Here's the screaming little Smart car:

Not too long after this, I saw both Elvis and Michael Jackson. The rumors are true! They had Big Gulps and were riding in a Kia.... probably not to attract attention.

Van Horn was next up and my gas was down. I swung through the town before topping up.

The lady clerk at the gas station wished me a Happy Thanksgiving and told me to be "extra careful on that bike". I promised I would and took off yet again, excited because El Paso was my next stop. It was the nirvana I sought, the unreachable goal, the never-ending journey, the end of a long, windy day. Was it really only 116 miles away????

As I entered the stream of trucks going west, I noticed the bike had more engine vibes than normal. Hmmm. Acceleration was groggy and the power didn't seem to be there like it usually is. I pulled off and checked the vacuum hoses on the injection side but found nothing. Eventually it cleared up and the power came back. Woohoo!

To the south, the mountain ranges in Mexico were visible in the blue haze and the slowly sinking sun. On the eastbound side of I-10, there was a large Border Patrol Checkpoint, and it appeared that all traffic on 10 has to go through…

As the range of mountains shadowing El Paso began to appear, I could see large fires to the south, the blue smoke drifting eastward across the valley. I couldn't tell if they were on the Mexican side or the U.S. side, but there were several, spaced miles apart along the river valley.

I rolled into El Paso as the sun came close to the horizon, the smoke and pollution dense and blue in Cuidad Juarez across the river and the familiar smokestacks edge-lit by the setting sun.

I had planned on going on to Las Cruces, but after 8 hrs of buffeting on the bike I decided to gas up, buy a map of New Mexico and find a place for the night. As I passed a Best Western, I saw a lone BMW R1200GS in the lot and wondered which way he was headed.

Grabbed a room at the EconoLodge, where the clerk told me I could park the bike next to the office window - always a comforting thing!

Finished the day with a great steak at the nearby Texas Roadhouse. My apologies for the lack of interesting stories and photos, but today was for making miles. We'll see what tomorrow brings!

Adios Amigos

Continue to Page II

II. Texas To Tombstone

Wow what a great riding day

First off, when they say "EconoLodge", they mean it. My room smelled, well, smelly. It's also the first time I've ever had to put sheets on my own bed and to top it off, there were only two sheets - no blankie, no disease ridden bedspread, just two flat sheets laying on a mattress. I won't discuss the mattress here, however...

Breakfast consisted of an amazing variety of Honeybuns, imitation Raisin Bran and slightly warmer than room temp coffee. And I was too lazy to warm them on my bike.

As I packed up the bike this morning, one of the guests (whom I'd seen checking in with what appeared to be a mail order bride) came over to talk bikes. He hadn't ridden in years and wanted to know all about the GS's. As much as I wanted to talk, I wanted to hit the road even more. But it goes with the territory so we talked for a while. I sooooooo wanted to ask him how he met his wife but was I was nice and didn't. But I digress.

El Cerod Rojo was still parked where I’d left him and appeared to have made the night unmolested. He wheezed a bit but then turned into a smooth purr as he idled and warmed in the crisp morning air.

My stuff

My stuff on my bike and ready to git! Arizona here we come

I had decided to take New Mexico’s Hwy 9 along the border all the way to Arizona and my cheapo map didn't show where it connected in El Paso. The gal behind the desk told me several ways to get to it, all blending together and all of which I immediately forgot, only remembering the road number to start on. So I did and when I stopped for gas, that cashier gave me better directions.

When I got near to Hwy 9, I plugged in the next town - "Columbus" - and punched in "shortest route" on the GPS. It led me through a warehouse district, where I passed a gigantic collection of huge wind turbine blades. There had to be thousands stored there and that is not an exaggeration.

The pavement ended shortly after and a couple of miles or more on the sandy road, I saw what appeared to be a smoke stack with a pile of cardboard and junk around it. I veered towards it and slowed down as I approached, only to realize as I pulled up near it, that the "smokestack" was an optical spotting device and the “cardboard” was actually tan military canvas... It was a military observation and spotting post for illegals and I panicked momentarily, wondering if they'd shoot me for stopping and looking at them.

I decided to act like something was wrong with the bike instead and stopped, poking things on the engine and then rode on, rather than risking "an incident". Another mile or two and I hit Hwy 9 and turned west.

The sun was still low behind me and the temp was a bit nippy. The road was long and straight, with sand and cactus as far as you could see. A steady supply of Border Patrol pickups passed me going both ways and the one thing I'd forgotten about New Mexico was their ridiculous speed limits. 55. For the rest of the day.

At this point, many of you are saying, "55? So what? Ain't no cops out there!" I, however, have vivid memories of getting a ticket for going 70 in a NM 55 in the middle of nowhere, so there. Plus, having outed a military sniper/observation hide, I was sure they'd be watching me live by satellite at the CIA and looking for an excuse to nuke me... not to mention having notified all law enforcement in seven states that a big guy on a weird bike was running the border alone. Thankfully, I'm not a paranoid person or I'd be worried.

Hwy 9 stretches due west before me

I have to say the region is loaded with Border Patrol. On the highway, along the side roads, and further out, the observation balloons floating high in the sky.

I had assumed that Hwy 9 would be a long, flat boring stretch all the way to AZ and even so, I had no desire to travel I-10. I was wrong. As the miles passed, the vistas were great - much like traveling in west Texas, but then I dig that terrain. The road actually turned out to be a great ride.

As I got further away from El Paso there was no traffic, save for the occasional BP truck. At points, the road runs fairly close to the border and as I entered an area of washes and gullies, there appeared another observation camera post. It was in this general area that the observation balloons were watching as well, many miles back from the border. At one point you could see what appeared to be a fence along the border, but it also may have been a train track. It was hard to tell with the wind shaking my helmet.

Another interesting thing I saw were stacks of stones on the side of the road. They were stacked one on top of another, or on top of fence posts - but only in certain places. They call them “hoodoos” but didn't get a picture…

I arrived at the town of Columbus, home of the Pancho Villa Park and Museum, situated in what appeared to be an old fort. I toodled thru the town, had a long chat with 3 guys at the gas station about my bike, then zipped through the Pancho Villa Museum parking lot but decided not to linger. Wish I'd had more time as the museum looked interesting.

The old hotel... Still reminds of that one I stayed in in Cody

Just needs a lick o’ paint

That old tank on display was neat to see - bet it was hot as hell in it in the summer

Roadside memorial or “descanso” on the way. One of many I saw. This one happened to be in a curve and it, as well as others, probably spoke to car accidents, but along barren stretches I saw simple wooden crosses leaned against a barbwire fence, or occasionally a faded and wind-worn ribbon or bow. I couldn’t help but think they were for immigrants who never made it to their objective across the brutal terrain, maybe a remembrance from a family who knew the general area where they’d crossed. I certainly have no way to either prove or know this, just a feeling based on the landscape…

After Columbus, I reached Hachita, where an old abandoned Catholic church sits in ruins. The old town has a lot of broken down adobe buildings and would be fun to photograph in detail.

Heading on toward Animas, the stretches of road were awesome, with huge areas of land visible between the mountains and it reminded me of areas in Wyoming.

At Vista, I swung off to see a sign informing that this was the continental divide. It was appropriately named, as from there you can see great distances. Loved it.

Crossing the continental divide at Vista

As the miles rolled by, I watched hawk after hawk sitting on cacti, watching me back. At one point a lone coyote trotted out in the road and watched me approach, doing a slow circle around me as I passed. To my left I saw a pool of water which explained his boldness.

The colors of the rocks and mountains shifted redder as I closed on Arizona

Mountains in the distance - woohoo!

Approaching Animas, I dodged a couple of huge tumbleweeds as they tumbled straight down the road towards me. I was surprised how large they were and was glad I didn’t tangle with one.

At Animas, I waited in line and gassed up at the "Boot Heel" store, eyeing a 10 pack of home-made tortillas which I didn't buy, but finally found a map of Arizona. I knew staying off I-10 it would be difficult to find maps, but truth be told it's difficult finding ANYTHING.

A line for gas at the Boot Heel Store

Arizona map at last :D

While gearing up to leave, I heard a motorcycle horn and looked up to see a guy on a thumper heading east and giving a thumbs up. I gulped a bottle of water and headed on for Rodeo, New Mexico, or at least that's what I told the GPS. A little before Rodeo, there was a turn off to ride the forest service road over the Coronado Mountains and to the Chiricahua National Monument area.

The Chiricahua Mountains in Arizona ahead

Going south on NM 80, I eventually found the Chiricahua National Monument sign and turned west for Portal, Arizona, portal to the Chiricahua mountains and Coronado National Forest.

The road led up into hills and trees filled with fall colors and began to twist and turn as it entered the base of the mountains.

I stopped at the Portal Store & Lodge to ask final directions before heading on.

This was a cool little place

The road led past fantastic rock formations and slowly wound its way up the canyon, the blacktop finally ending and the gravel road progressively becoming rougher as it climbed higher for the crest of the range.

Signs warned of unmaintained roads and smuggling and illegal activity. The loaded GS purred its way up the twists, getting just squirrelly enough in the gravel and rocks to keep my attention.

As the road climbed, the views were fantastic. At one point a large mule deer burst from the brush and ran down the road in front of me. I really enjoyed this part of the ride, but it was also hard to rubberneck at the scenery since I had to stay focused on the loose gravel. I'm guessing it was about 20 - 25 miles through the mountains.

After climbing up and over the range, you descend slowly onto Pinery Road down in the valley, where the flats allowed me to enjoy some speed after slow going on the fire roads.

I eventually connected with the entry into Chiricahua National Monument.

The area was used by Geronimo as a hide and the ride in brings views of stunning rock formations.

I stopped at the main center and paid entry, as well as buying a detailed map of Arizona counties for tomorrow's ride. The lady working there was surprised I'd come over the mountain on the bike, but most folks assume you're on a Harley. My plan upon leaving the park was to ride the Middlemarch Road over the mountain into Tombstone, but she said by the time I finished in the park it would probably be too late for Middlemarch Road.

Back out in the empty parking lot, I decided to take a few minutes to rest since I hadn't stopped all day and while drinking a bottled water, heard a strange grunt by my leg. I looked down and saw what I first thought to be a very large cat and then realized it was not. It appeared to be a Coatamundi or Ringtail or Something Grunty and It scared the hell out of me. He was big, weird looking and not something I expect to see when I look down.

After his grunt, he sniffed at my leg, then the back tire of the bike and turned to waddle off. By the time I got the camera out he was across the lot and when I chased after for a pic, he stopped and turned as if to say "Just try it".

Mr. Grunt, the Coatimundi

The ride up into the park is shrouded in trees in a narrow valley and occasionally you glimpse fantastic rock spires towering above. A road cut into the mountainside leads to the top and offers fantastic views.

At the top, I parked while a guy eyed my GS and poked his wife in the ribs. I walked down the path to a lookout area with an older couple, three other couples with them. Turns out they have a tradition of coming up to the park every year for Thanksgiving.

We yakked for a while and then the guy who'd been checking out my bike started asking about it. It turns out he and his wife are the editors of a riding magazine called "Full Throttle" and he's been thinking of getting a GS.

The views from up top are great. There are hundreds of massive rocks standing like silent warriors in the trees. My pics are crappy and don't do justice to the scenes. The park is truly a beautiful place and shouldn't be missed if you're in the area. I wanted to stay and hike some, but the sun was beginning to get low and I knew it was a ways to Tombstone yet.

I coasted down the mountain road, alternating from the warm sun to the cold of the blue shadows. Looking at the sun, I knew it was too late to ride Middlemarch Road over to Tombstone and I was getting tired, so I headed south on 181 to connect with 191 South. One of the maps showed a cut through road from 191 over to Tombstone by way of Gleeson, an old ghost town, so I headed that way.

The dirt road was wide and easy, with enough silt and gravel to keep life interesting, but nothing difficult. I rode west into the slowly setting sun, occasionally being engulfed in a cloud of orange dust from a pickup or car heading the other way.

Suddenly I saw a big cat run quickly across the road about 150 feet ahead - either a lynx, bobcat, or maybe even a cougar. I suspect it was a lynx since it was larger than a bobcat and stockier, but with the sun and dust I couldn't see him clearly enough to say which.

A great day was ending and as I rode for Tombstone with a cloud of dust behind and the sun setting ahead, I couldn't help but think "How cool is this"

More mañana amigos!

The Route and altitude

Continue to Page III

III. Lonely Road To Nogales

I awoke to a spectacular morning of blue skies, cool temperatures and sunshine. I didn't have a chance to explore Tombstone since it was late when I arrived, and after 2 nine hour days days on the bike I was pooped. Since I hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, my plan had been to hit a restaurant downtown, but instead I spent the evening trying to get internet. GRRRRR. Stupid technology!

About 11pm, instead of a restaurant I dined at the motel’s "Vending Corral". The meal was only $1.50 and came in a plastic bag with "Lay's Potato Chips" emblazoned on the side. I washed it down with a cup full of tap water. Mmmm.

So, with my now disgruntled stomach, I ate a big breakfast to compensate before heading for the boardwalk in the tourist town Tombstone.

The tall Texan cast a long shadow as he walked slowly down the deserted street towards the OK Corral, the the stares of absolutely no one.

Arriving about 8 am, the old ghost town was, a ghost town. Actually, it was fun wandering around with no one there. About 9 a few locals began to arrive and set their tourist traps. I had a few conversations about the bike and generally hung out with my cup of coffee from the OK Restaurant.

I never realized cowboys had trinkets

I think we're both parallel

I didn't want to wait for the OK Corral to open and that was OK. I also decided that Tombstone is the only place in the world where it's ok to wear a full length waxed cotton duster and not look like an idiot. (Besides Australia?) So now all you guys with one in the closet that was bought in a weak moment and are too ashamed to wear it in public, now you know where to vacation.

The only other place I wanted to see was Boot Hill Cemetery, so I headed over where a sweet little old lady strong-armed me out of a $2 donation - which I gladly payed - and for which I received a tour map of all the graves. It was fun reading about all the different folks and how they were all either violently killed or gruesomely died. Actually, it was quite fascinating.

The Clanton gang's all here...

Including Pa...

The border road was calling my name, so I finally saddled up and rode out of town. Well, about 1/2 mile to the Circle K to gas up, and while there saw this:

From Tombstone, I took Charleston road to Sierra Vista, which turned out to be a nice curvy road and fun to ride, that is until I got stuck behind Granpa Cooter driving 35 mph in an old Grand Marquis, belching gas fumes and oil smoke so strong I couldn't breathe. Finally I got past him and zipped on towards Sierra Vista and the mountains beyond.

I stopped to take a shot of the observation balloon overhead:

Meanwhile, Granpa Cooter passed me again and I was stuck behind him all the way into town. Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Sierra Vista was a modern town, replete with Lowe's, Best Buy, yada yada and possibly Prada, so I topped off again for the remote border road down south. Jumped on 92 south to the turn off for Coronado National Memorial and the Coronado National Forest, then wound my way into the foothills. Once again, the crystal skies, cool temps and beautiful scenery could not have been finer.

I stopped at the Visitor Center to ask about the route, carefully checking the parking lot for Coatimundi's first, and the Ranger inside was very helpful. She said the route was rough and only a "dirt bike" could make it. Also said the Border Patrol usage had really roughed up the switchbacks, so to be extra careful on the washboard in the turns. She told me I'd pass the National Monument to “Priest blah-blah-blah”, (sorry, I can't remember his name!), who was the first European to enter the area back in the 1500's. Let's just assume he was hangin' with Coronado since the forest is named after him. She said he was also famous (infamous?) for being the priest who told the King of Spain that there were 7 Golden Cities in America and launched the whole schmear.

She said "I call him Friar Liar." Well, I couldn't remember his real name, but I did remember that one.

But enough of history. Once again, having checked for Coati's, I downed a bottle of water and took the silver foil quilted jacket liner - aka the Disco Sweat Sack - from my jacket as it was beginning to warm up already.

The Duquesne - Lochiel road is remote and follows the border of Mexico, very closely in some areas, for about 60 miles to Nogales. It is an area heavily used by smugglers and illegals. The Ranger told me it would take 2-3 hours minimum to get to Nogales, depending on the road. I was pumped!

The pavement ended quickly and the switchbacks started almost immediately. They were heavily washboarded and a little rough and rutted from wheel bounce. The road headed quickly up the side of the mountain. The ride up required concentration on the heavy GS, but the ride, road and views were awesome. I had shut off the ABS on the pig before heading up and a good thing, as there was a lot of loose gravel and the drops were magnificently sudden. Not that it was super tricky, it's just that a 650 lb bike with semi-street tires likes to go its own way in the loose stuff and there was enough of that on the hairpins to keep me awake and doing sphincter exercises.

Border Patrol in waiting

Sorry I don't have more pics on the way up but I was busy

At the top there is a fantastic view both to the east and to the west. I pulled in on the east side and got off the bike, admiring the view back, when I was accosted by a guy wanting to talk about the GS. If I could get a dollar for each time someone wants to talk, I could ride a lot more...

Anyway, he was older and had raced desert in California back in the day... we talked about Husky WR's and such. He eyed the GS again and wished me well on the trip.

Looking eastward

From there I wandered over to the west side and was blown away by the view. There is a vast valley heading down into Mexico, remote and empty. The scale can't be caught in pictures. I was like "Wow", and thought "Man I'm about to cross that!"

It was easy to see why the Border Patrol has their work cut out for them. It is huge and nothing but wilderness.

Also interesting was the radar/optic/hoosamawhatsit rig they were scanning the valley below with. It was pretty cool standing there and looking out over that scene.

Nogales still lay about 60 slow miles away, so I headed down the rocky road following the switchbacks into the valley below. I was on the pegs all the way down, as it was pretty rough with a lot of loose rock, gravel and the ever present washboard and ruts.

I wasn't able to get much in the way of pics until I got lower down the pass

The road down finally tapered into rolling terrain before the flat valley base

I passed a few slow patrolling Border Patrol trucks and was passed by a couple myself. They are very, very active on that road and honestly I was glad to see it. I had begun to notice that the dirt on the sides of the road was smooth as if it had been swept and about the time I realized they were doing it purposely so they could see footprints, I came up behind a BP truck dragging a set of tires.

I followed slowly behind him until he noticed and pulled over a bit for me and I waved as I passed. Having descended the mountain, I rode up and down through the foothills on the narrow dirt road. Again, after a few miles I'd see another BP truck, and at one point I was showered in dust as a truck overtook me and passed at a good clip.

Taking a break to pull off another layer

The ever-present eye in the sky

Eventually the terrain changed into vast rolling grassland and the road smoothed and widened. It was truly inspiring to be riding in the massive valley, with no human activity or presence visible as far as the eye could see.

I was able to open up the big bike’s engine and haul butt in some stretches and it felt so good after the tedious switchback areas.

This ride is one that will forever be in my memory.

The air was cool and crisp, the sun brilliant, the sky as clear and deep blue as I've ever seen it, the wind blowing the golden grass in waves as I glided up and down the rolling road with dust behind me. I asked God to forever burn this moment into my being.

It was interesting, as there were some areas I went through that were exactly like the area of the Hill Country where I live. At one moment, when I was down in a draw, it was so weirdly the same that I would swear I was on an old ranch road near Leakey, Texas.

At some point you enter private ranch land on the road and it was interesting seeing a windmill or two, old cattle stations and the distant ranch house.

Slowly the road became smoother and more manicured and I could tell I was re-entering a region less remote. I came down through the remains of the old town of Lochiel and shortly thereafter hit about a 100' section of asphalt, then immediately was back on dirt. I thought "That was weird! Wonder why?" Right after that, I blasted past the Friar Liar monument and did a quick U-turn.

The monument is a giant concrete cross with sitting area, overgrown and unmaintained, set up as a monument to Fray Marcos de Niza, the first European west of the Rockies who entered what is now Arizona in 1539.

I stripped off my gear and relaxed a while, looking out over the rolling grassland and savoring the sound of the wind.

In a bit, I heard the rumble of a diesel engine and a Border Patrol truck idled up, the window rolling down as he stopped. I walked over to the window and the agent said hello and commented on the bike. He introduced himself as Dirk and we talked a while. He said he knew Kerrville well, as he had been born in San Angelo, and spent a summer or two at Mo Ranch before his parents moved to Alaska. I never cease to be amazed at what a small world it is.

In commenting on the number of BP trucks and activity, he said business was brisk due to two other areas being clamped down on and thus the smuggling had picked up here tremendously. While we talked, I heard the radio chatter of "We've got two runners - they're definitely running..." and other snippets of conversation. Quite interesting to have a moment in his world. He also pointed to the strip of asphalt I'd just wondered about, and said it was there to cover an archaeological site that was found directly in the current road. They simply buried it again and covered it with asphalt to protect it.

Dirk was more than happy to pose for a quick snapshot, and then was on his way.

That was my cue to head on as well. The road continued on through rolling hills until reaching the base of the mountains again, at which point the road climbed steeply into sharp switchbacks and gravel as it cut the mountain edge.

Ahead in the trees I caught a momentary glint and was wondering what it was, when suddenly a pickup came barreling out of a side road and stopped dead in front of me. I locked up and slid to a stop, then rolled back down a ways. The truck had two Marines in it and they maneuvered around until passing me, with a second truck doing the same, but this one being law enforcement. If I hadn't seen that little glint, I'd have been creamed by the truck in the switchback.

Up and over the top, I slowly wound down into a valley again.

At the base, I began to hit grey silty areas on the road. For those of you who ride GS's you know how they like to take a dive when silt or sand comes along. I started to get a little antsy, especially at times when the sun is behind you and the flat light makes it impossible to read the surface.

The silt was getting deeper and sure enough, I rounded a corner to find two BP trucks stopped for a chat in the middle of the road. The only area I could get past was on the side where the deepest soft stuff was and as I went past I did my best imitation of the guy riding the giant sand worms in Dune. I didn't go down, but I'm sure the agents in the trucks were highly entertained watching my arse fishtailing back and forth trying to keep from taking a dive.

The road smoothed out and eventually turned to asphalt again, leading up to Hwy 82 which went south for Nogales. I was getting hungry and Mexican food in Nogales seemed appropriate. It wasn't far into the town but as I got into the congested downtown, I decided I wasn't hungry any longer. I rode through a couple of neighborhoods built on the hillsides, then looped back out of town.

This Friar was not the liar - they have a large memorial to him - Padre Eusebio Francisco Kino. As the plaque says, "Founder of Missions, Man of God, Pioneer, Explorer, Astronomer, Rancher, Teacher, Cartographer, 1645-1711"

I had planned on continuing my ride on west, taking Ruby road across to Arivaca, but the sun was low enough to remind me that the days aren't lasting as long as I think so I decided not to push it.

Instead I headed back northeast on 82 for Patagonia. Sounded like an interesting place and it turned out to be just that. Kind of an artsy community and sleepy little town. They had a great coffee shop and I enjoyed a quick late lunch and downloading pics. It was nice not pushing for a change.

Real men don’t eat quiche

The plan was to check in the hotel early, get a hot shower, relax and do the ride report. I parked in front of the old hotel, got my stuff off, drug it into the lobby and waited for the clerk to return. Twenty minutes later, still no clerk. I went next door and a guy in a black cowboy outfit walked out of a large old bank vault and asked me what I wanted. Told him I was looking to check in to the hotel, but no one was there. He suggested I go down the street a little to the bar and relax until Judy the owner showed up again.

Instead, I wandered the main street a while, enjoying the sunset and air and eventually saw an older woman head into the bar. Sure enough it was the hotel owner/bartender and an hour later I finally got a room

So much for an early day.

Still not sure which roads I will ride tomorrow. I plan to continue the west route of the road I was on today, which is called Ruby Road and goes to Arivaca. However, I have been warned by three folks now that the road to Arivaca is dangerous and I had better "go heavily armed," as there have been "bandits" operating on that road. Gotta check the alternate routes and see...

Today's ride was fantastic. One of the best roads I've ridden, simply by the variety of terrain encountered, the incredible weather and the circumstances surrounding it.

If you're in that area, it's a great ride and perfect for a GS if you have basic skills.

More tomorow amigos!

The route and altitude

[IMG]http://www.lonesome-road.com/Galleries/Texas-to-Tombstone/i-8kMMq4L/0/XL/Duquesne%20Rd-XL.png[/IMG]

Continue to Page IV

IV. Drug Mules & Ruby Dust

Two Words.

Ruby Road Rocks.

Man it was cold last night. How do I know? I was sitting in the dark out in front of the coffee house uploading pics at 11 pm and freezing. Only place I could get wifi. I gotta tell ya, these reports are a lot of work. Each time I do one I swear I won't do another, then enough time expires between rides and I forget. :)

Was up early and outside looking for coffee at 6:30 am. Problem was the entire town was still asleep and the coffee house was still closed so I wandered around aimlessly and shot a few pics before the sun came up. A rancher sat idling in his pickup outside the grocery market, so I wandered down there and about 7:15 they opened the door. The two of us gang rushed the door for coffee, but were beaten to the machine by the clerk who said she had to have coffee before she would help us.

Sleepy Patagonia

Rumor has it this place has great pizza

Finally got a cup and asked her who was open for breakfast. She said the hotel restaurant "usually" was open at 7. They weren't, so she sent me down the street to Mercedes Mexican food. The waitress was talkative and friendly, and I ordered Huevos Rancheros and stared longingly across the street at the coffee house, anxious for them to open so I could get wifi

The best Huevos Rancheros on the planet

Sorry for all the food pics in the report, but it ain't easy padding these things out ya know :D

They didn't have change for a $20 bill so she tried to comp me the meal, but I told her I'd be back with the money later. Planning on riding Ruby Road and having heard the warnings the day before, I asked if she'd heard of any bad activity recently and she said no, but then proceeded to explain the generalities. She said I was likely to encounter two types of folks in the remote roads, one being those simply trying to get into America, and the second being the drug mules. She said the illegals may try to stop and ask for some money or water, etc., but the drug mules would rob and kill you. In either case, she said, "You shoulden stop! Do na stop and wander off de road!" I appreciated her warnings, and did not tell her my plan had always been not to stop. El Cerdo Rojo del Diablo would plow over and kill anyone EVEN IF I was trying to stop...

From there I finally got to the coffee shop and getting online was a problem (I swear I've had more trouble getting a good connection on this trip - you'd think I was in Mongolia) and it was getting late, so I packed the bike and went to return the key and get a receipt, but of course the owner lady wasn't there and no one in town knew where she was... same as the night before, and after wasting more time, blew off the receipt and dropped the cash for breakfast off before heading south.

The hotel courtyard - honestly, I can't recommend this place

WARNING - Skip over this if you hate whining and sniveling… I was a little miffed from the day before and then having lost so much time in town the day before and this morning, I was a bit grouchy. Lemme splain. The day before I left Kerrville, my speedometer drive gear failed. I called the BMW dealer in Tucson to see if they could slap a new one in when I got there. No problem, but to get the part in by Tuesday or Wednesday so they could fix the bike while I was in AZ, I had to pay a 15% rush fee. Fine.

So they connect me to parts and immediately the kid has no idea what I'm talking about and tries to order an entire speedometer. I carefully explain the part, the reason it needs to be there by Tuesday since I'm riding all the way from Texas to Tucson and need it installed. He “understands clearly” he says, and yes, BMW has 21 in the US. We do the deal and he assures me it will be here by Tuesday so they can fix the bike and he will call me Tuesday to let me know. Great.

I get no call Tuesday morning, then later in the day when I get back into cell coverage I call them. The parts guy is excited because he remembers and tells me the part came in that morning. Cool! I tell him to let service know so I can set up the time to have the bike in Tucson. Silence on the line. Not a good thing. Then he tells me he had just mailed the part out to my address in Texas by U.S. Mail. Let's see, I live in Texas, order a part from BMW to be sent to a dealer in Arizona and pay 15% rush shipping, so that they can have it there first thing Tuesday morning when they open, so that he can then mail it by U.S. Mail to me in Texas. Makes perfect sense. If you're a crackhead. Need I say more? Whine time over - back to your regular scheduled program...

Anyway, the whole morning I'd felt bad mojo in the air, so it felt good to get moving again. Heading back south towards Nogales I caught the River Road over to I-19 and then continued on Ruby Road.

Hmmm hmmm hmmm... la de da...

Very quickly the paved road began twisting its way though hills covered with golden grass. The road was absolutely fun to ride, twisty, hilly, with tight switchback curves and heading deeper towards a range of mountains.

That little blacktop road was absolutely a fun ride, and after a few miles ended abruptly in dirt. If you're in the area and on a street bike, take the ride till the asphalt ends - it's a good road and you'll enjoy it.

A sign had said 32 miles to Arivaca and when the asphalt ended the fun began. The road was rougher and narrower then the Duquesne road and immediately started to climb, with sharp switchbacks, blind corners with steep drop-offs, loose rock and heavier washboard and rain ruts. I could tell this was gonna be fun!

The views were great - golden colored hills and rock formations, with the road a narrow cut on the side of the ridges and mountains. It was very tight and twisty and quickly took you back into raw wilderness. I kept stopping for pics, nervously so, as the corners are blind and it would be easy to get hit by a truck.

As I got further in I was aware that this was more remote and even less traveled than yesterday's ride. With the terrain and so many blind corners, I was thinking it would definitely be a good place for a hijack, as there is no way to see ahead in most places. With that thought fresh in my mind, I stopped at an edge for a pic down into a canyon and suddenly was buzzed by an Apache helicopter overhead. The chopper had come out of the canyon behind me and up over the ridge I was on, hovering and looking at me for a moment. I froze at the sudden sight of an armed helicopter poised and pointed at me, afraid to move. After a few moments he swung away and I watched him go low overhead and maybe about a half mile in front of me where he pulled around and hovered over an area for a bit, definitely looking at something. He then wheeled away and vanished.

Nothing like a little drama to add to my ride. Still 24 miles to go.

I wasn't excessively worried about "bandidos" or getting robbed, since I know how incidents get blown out of proportion, but I also know to use caution and common sense. Still, I kept thinking, "Dang man... if they need an armed Apache helicopter to deal with stuff out here... and what was he looking at further up the road right where I'm going?"

Anyway, it was kinda cool and added to the atmosphere.

The Ruby - Arivaca road is a great dual sport ride, not really challenging and a bit rough in some areas, but the pig took it in stride and I was having a blast riding a little faster than I should have. At one point, I sat down for just a moment and hit a deep pothole hard and fast. It was a situation where the sun was behind me and the light flattened all texture and dimension, making the pothole invisible. It jammed my back and I hurt for quite a while after, just one of these things, but the pain took away some of the enjoyment.

At some point you drop down off the higher landscapes into a sheltered canyon and I started to feel like it was an area to be careful in. To be honest, I felt a little uneasy and increased my speed, riding faster and harder. Not too much further along, it happened.

I came around a tight corner, and there, right in front of me standing in the middle of the road, was a Mexican guy. I was going fast, but our eyes met and I don't know which of us was more surprised. He was very dark from the sun, wearing dark blue pants and a dark short sleeved shirt, looking like he'd slept on the ground for days, dirty and sweaty. He stood there in sandals, holding a small duffel bag in his right hand and a clay jug in the other - I remember it was clay pottery with a piece of hemp rope tied around it. There was no look other than staring at me wide-eyed as I shot past him not three feet away. It happened so quick there wasn't time for a reaction by either of us. Drug Mule or just a man escaping Mexico - I dunno, but I have to hand it to anyone who can make it that far in that kind of terrain. Kind of spooked and glad my sixth sense had worked, I rode quickly out of the canyon.

Another mile or two down the road, I passed the area known as Ruby - it appeared to be several small buildings behind a locked gate.

Here and there on the route, there are old road signs, but some have painted markings on them. One had a spray painted blue hand, another some thing else. I assume they are signals to illegals but I'm not sure.

Eventually, I began getting into areas with more signs of humanity and shortly came up a hill to a cell tower. There was a spot to pull over and I climbed off the bike to pull off a layer of clothing and drink some water.

When I looked back, my tail bag was missing. One of the cross straps must have broken and I lost the case, which contained two spare fuel canisters, two tie downs, baling wire, zip ties and not sure what else. Just for a moment I contemplated heading back, but God only knows where it flew off. I was going faster and harder in the rough stuff than I should have, so I'm not too surprised it bailed. In addition, I blew a front fork seal from some impact.

Sooooo, maybe some rider will run out gas on the road and while wondering what to do, will see a black pouch in the bushes and discover 2 pints of gas miraculously waiting for him.

I took the remaining straps off to put them in the side case, when a sudden gust of wind caught the case lid, and yanked it back, snapping the plastic hinges in classic BMW GSA case fashion, the lid hitting the ground with a clang. Both side case lids had safety wire straps to keep that from happening but the wire was evidently broken by the force of the gust and lid. Sheesh! If that's not a sign from God to order the aluminum aftermarket hinges I don't know what is!

Ok, I'm beginning to wonder what's next, so I drive into Arivaca and gas up. It was an interesting little wide spot of a town and full of characters, which I enjoy mucho

This guy was crazy about Christmas, and told me hadn't even started decorating yet!

With my bike still getting poor mileage and beginning to suspect that the fuel gauge is acting up as well, I decided I'd feel better replacing the two lost MSR fuel bottles as soon as possible. I decided to head up I-19 to hit Tucson and catch Mission San Javier on the way.

Mission San Javier, which is still an active church from the 1600's if I heard right:

Indians selling fry-bread outside on the plaza

Mission San Javier was great - would love to have had more time to explore, but I needed to ride. I was feeling like it was time to begin heading back towards Texas and debated whether to just head on for Las Cruces after Tucson, or to return to Tombstone for the night.

In Tucson, I found a Sports Authority and picked up a couple of MSR's plus a fanny pack to use as a tailbag for them. I jumped on I-10 and headed east to Benson where I stopped to refuel the bike and bottles. Someone laughed that I was so concerned about having extra gas when the places I rode were so dangerous. It was simple really - I was far more likely to run out of gas than I was getting killed…

I debated heading on east, but decided to go for Tombstone instead since it had been a long day and I didn’t want to end up riding in the dark for a few more hours.

Tombstone after dark

Patrons in the Crystal Palace Saloon

All in all, a fascinating day and Ruby Road is my favorite ride! What a great road. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and not sure where I'm heading…

See ya my friends!

The route and elevation:

Continue to Page V

V. Bisbee & The Copper Queen

Last night I stayed at the Larian Motel in Tombstone.

It was an older motel with a western movie theme throughout, but was nice, clean and well decorated. The manager who checked me in had such a thick Scottish brogue that honestly, I only understood about every 5th word. I asked him how he ended up in Tombstone, of all places, and he told me he moved here for the history. Said he'd grown up in Scotland watching westerns as a child and the history of the old west was his life’s passion. That was a neat story to hear. I ended up in the "Doc Holliday" room, naturally.

I got up early, made coffee in the room and stared at the wall for a while til my tiny brain rolled into its socket, then got dressed and wandered over to the boardwalk. And by the way, why is it that hotels always give you those stupid little packets for your coffee with two smidgens of sugar and two micro-smidgens of creamer! Grrrrrrrrr.

Being Thanksgiving Day, little was open but I found coffee and a honeybun in the general store and wandered some more. A couple of places were gonna be open for Thanksgiving meals, including the VFW hall, but I was leaning to head for Bisbee since it's in the direction I need to go for El Paso. Sort of.

Good morning mi amigo cerdo!

The Scottish manager saw me and insisted he take a pic of me saying "Ouw yer Uan MacGregggoooooor!" and laughing.

El Cerdo Rojo y Jose Loco

I gotta tell ya, I like Tombstone even though it's touristy. I like the feel and the folks in the area. There are more gun stores in this town than I've ever seen and that warms the cockles of my heart. I think it's sort of an upscale “Vegas” version of Terlingua.

Yet another Klar for sale

The original dual sport adventure tourer

Hot Dogs, Beans and a Pickle for $1 for Thanksgiving Dinner... Perty good deal.

Since it was Thanksgiving, I felt like taking the day easy and not pushing much. I geared up and headed south for Bisbee since I've never been there, rather than slogging it back to Texas.

It was a bit colder when I left Tombstone for the short ride south, but the view in the valley is great, with mountain ranges on the east and west.

The speed limit on Hwy 82 was 65 mph, so I enjoyed the xtra 10 mph of Arizona over New Mexico. Funny thing, yesterday when I hopped on I-19 for Tucson, the speed limit was 75, but after riding at slow speeds on back roads and 55 on asphalt for days now, 75 made me feel paranoid that I was gonna get a ticket.

It wasn't long before I was entering the hills preceding Bisbee and the rocks were a stronger color.

Just before the town you enter a tunnel, then come out the other side to views of houses and buildings perched all over the hillsides.

JJJoooosssseeeppphhh... JJJoooosssseeeppphhh... riiiiiide intoooooooo the liiiiiiiiiiiiight

Bisbee had been a rich copper mining town previously and I assume there are still some active mines around. It’s a wonderfully eclectic community, colorful and varied in styles, a maze of tiny streets and alleys, all steep or sloped with colored houses dotting the hillsides. It reminds me very much of an American version of a small European village built on the mountainside.

I rode all through the town enjoying the tight and twisted streets. There were three Native Americans wearing make-up or ski masks and protesting loudly in the downtown area, waving hand painted placards at passersby that said "Thanks-for-nothingGiving!"

Mama always said “art and alcohol don't mix”

The place is littered with shops and galleries, but only a few hotels. The nature of the streets and lack of parking make it difficult to spot any that aren't readily visible in the main section of town.

I ended up stopping at the "Copper Queen", the lush, old grand hotel from the boom era of Bisbee. There were two BMW's there - R1100R and R1150R - and I parked my dusty beast next to their svelte and shiny selves and went up into the lobby. I was hoping to get a good room and maybe a Thanksgiving Dinner in the restaurant.

Once in the door I knew it wasn't gonna work. The milling gaggle of wealthy, older folks waiting in line for the restaurant looked in disdain at my dusty, bug-stained self. I went to the check-in counter to ask for the rates and availability anyway. Let's just say the "Copper Queen" is alive and well, his name is Bruce and he works behind the counter.

Bruce wasn’t friendly and the vibe wasn’t good. Plus, I wasn't wanting to pay the high price for a room only to endure a bunch of self-centered nouveau riche for the rest of the evening, so I headed out and explored east of the old town.

You pass the massive abandoned copper pit on the east side of town to find where the working folks live. Bisbee has that dark, rusty feel of an old industrial town.

This guy’s got some cool toys and a great loft/shop

I rode back to the old part of Bisbee and found the LaMore Hotel on a higher side street. The lady managing it set me up in Room No. 7. It's an old hotel that has been historically restored. And it had wifi most importantly

My room was upstairs, down a dark hallway and the doors to all the empty rooms were open. I was the only one upstairs but got chills in the hallway. I kept thinking how it reminded me of the old hotels you’d see on shows about ghost activity. Turns out, on the way back out I did see a book by the door where guests can log their "ghost encounters". Great…

Parking was a block below, but I didn't get the feeling this is a real safe town. She said I could park the bike on the narrow sidewalk in front of the hotel, IF it was a small bike. I assured her it was tiny.

She also told me the only place open for food today was the Roma's Pizza place and that the Copper Queen restaurant would close early.

I headed down for food and being my Thanksgiving meal, I decided to stuff my face with a small homemade pizza and Coke. It was great.

Thanksgiving Dinner!

From there I wandered the streets til it got too cold and headed back up to the haunted hotel. Out front, the night manager was smoking a cigarette and asked me about the bike and it turns out he collected old scooters and such. We talked bikes for a while.

As long as the free range zombies stay out of the hotel, I'm cool

In the window of the coffee roaster

What???????

View from the hotel

Bisbee is a great place to visit and I'm glad I came down.

Tomorrow I'm heading back to Texas the way I came, New Mexico 9 to El Paso and beyond.

Continue to Page VI

VI. Goodbye Geronimo

Last night I wandered the town in the darkness a while, trying to find any activity after Thanksgiving, then swung into the Hot Licks Saloon next to the hotel to see if there was any life. It was empty save the bartender. He said he was closing for the evening. I told him I couldn't imagine why…

Poor baby - all alone in the cold

One thing I remembered from the conversation with the hotel manager yesterday was that he said the town was literally vacated back in 1975 after the copper mine shut down. He said you could take a nap in the middle of main street since there was no one around. Also said they had organized races in the town through all the empty streets - I'm assuming cars - because there was nothing to hit except the walls.

This morning I woke up about 5:30 am feeling rested and happy to report having no "ghost encounters". I played Barry Manilow music all night to scare anything away so it obviously worked. One scary thing did happen... my riding pants got up and walked around on their own, but that was probably bacterial and not paranormal.

However, I will tell you the upstairs hallway made the hair on my neck stand up every time I went to the room. And to be honest, I stared straight ahead when I walked down the hallway, not looking into the open rooms on either side in case some headless ghost might be standing there.

Flipping through the "Guest Ghost Encounters" book in the lobby this morning, I saw myriad stories from previous guests who had sightings and weird experiences in the hotel. Room No. 6, adjacent to mine, seemed to have a lot of encounters especially. It's a nice hotel, just one of those that has a feeling you're not alone.

But I digress. Aware of other guests who'd arrived last night, I tiptoed down the creaky, squeaky hall and out into the crisp deep blue of predawn over Bisbee. I walked downtown to grab a coffee at the Bisbee Coffee Company and waited for my brain which had stayed in bed and would arrive later.

Bisbee Coffee and a warm blueberry scone right outta the oven!

The sun was breaking over the mountains when I headed back to pack up

Z’ O'tel La More

Ohhh What a Pig In the Mooooorning! Ohhh what a pig all the daaaaaay!

Packed and ready! Yeeeee Haaaaa!

I was sad to see the morning come cause it meant heading back towards Texas, but I was also filled with that rush of getting prepped and on the road. Bisbee's a cool place and I'm glad I stopped and stayed. I really hated losing a day of riding, but the fuel stops in these areas are limited to begin with and on Thanksgiving Day I figured the two gas stations between Bisbee and El Paso would be closed.

It was quite cold this morning, not sure what temp, but colder than any time on this trip. I headed into the morning sun, squinting and eyes watering in the cold air. The canyons leaving Bisbee, itself around 5500', were freezing and I couldn't wait to hit the valley floor heading for Douglas to warm up. Except I forgot cold air falls and the valley floor was even worse. After about 20 minutes, my lips matched the blue of my jeans.

Tagging behind a Border Patrol Tahoe into the gas station at Douglas, I topped off and then looped through the downtown section. Douglas is a border crossing town, sitting in the flat valley and has the classic old downtown with an old hotel, theater and 50's era stores. I was too chilled and lazy to take off my glove for a pic, so use your imagination.

Even early in the morning, Black Friday was in full swing, as there were several Mexican clothing outlets downtown with racks of clothes on the sidewalks and lots of locals were already pushing and shoving their way to happiness.

Driven by an irrational fear of shopping, I headed northeast on 80 and soon was into the long stretches of valleys and thousands of acres of ranch land, cattle spotted here and there. To either side were low mountains and I was struck by the immense size of the grazing lands and ranch spreads. At one point, I saw a spotting post watching the valley from atop a high stone hill, the spotting scope peering over a huge mound of rock.

At one point, I passed two BP trucks on the side of the road with a group of illegals being loaded into the back of a truck. Several of them were wearing bright colored clothing, like red and blue, as if they were going to the mall or something. I mean you'd think they'd understand the basic idea of blending into the environment if they're trying to sneak across an open desert unnoticed. Even I could spot a red jacket 10 miles away out there. For God's sake people, dress like a creosote bush or something! Better yet wear a cow suit and cross a ranch with the herd! For crying out loud.

After a bit, I passed a sign for "Skeleton Canyon", the name catching my attention and then hit a tiny community named "Apache".

Apache, Arizona

About 1/2 mile past, there was a cone-shaped stone monument. I pulled off and read the placard stating the monument commemorated Geronimo’s surrender to the U.S. Cavalry. Since Geronimo was the last chief to fight, his surrender officially ended the Indian wars. The sign said he had actually been cornered in Skeleton Canyon, before eventually agreeing to surrender. It was really cool to have run across this spot.

One thing I've pondered often on this trip is the massive desert area Geronimo covered, moving the tribes over such harsh terrain, providing food and water and surviving in the brutality of that climate. It's actually an amazing feat of logistics, not to mention the fighting and evasion for so many years. Only when you are in the middle of the landscape and have ridden for hours and days over such huge plains and mountain areas does that feat sink in.

From the monument, it wasn't long until I crossed the state line into New Mexico. It was with regret that I left Arizona, as I've had a blast, ridden absolutely beautiful areas rich with history and met great, friendly folks everywhere I went.

Waaaah - hate to leave

I shot a few pics of the state border, then rodeo'd on into Rodeo, NM and shortly after, passed the entry road to Portal where I'd started my Arizona adventure. It was a fun feeling knowing I'd made the loop.

Passing the sign for Portal, the entrance for my ride through Arizona a few days previous

Rodeo, New Mexico

On the way to Animas, I had some major excitement. I actually came up behind another car! Eventually I even passed it!!! Though I'm being sarcastic, that's the only car I encountered in my lane for the entire stretch from Douglas, New Mexico to El Paso which is close to 220 miles.

In the oncoming side I saw maybe 10 - 12 vehicles at the most. Soooooo if you like solitude and little traffic when you ride, have I got the route for you! Repeat after me, "New. Mexico. Highway. 9."

In Animas I stopped to top off at the Boot Heel Grocery again. This time, I did buy a pack of tortillas, the perfect motorcycle road food - they are flat, filling and fit perfectly under the lid of the tank bag.

The local ranchers were coming in to buy supplies, which in each and every case consisted of beer and ice. Or occasionally, ice and beer. While I was gassing up, three cowboys came out and walked past, the third looking at me and spitting the longest tobacco spit I've ever seen, somewhat in my general direction, his eye never leaving mine. My eye did leave his to watch the brown stream that extended from his mouth all the way to the ground, completely unbroken. I was impressed. I guess. Anyway, I'm not sure he liked my horrendous helmet hairdoo...

Boot Heel Grocery in Animas. Biggest seller is beer. Probably more gallons than gas.

Oh, and by the way, ain't no city-boy cowboys out there in that part of the country. You got the real deal in this area.

From Animas to Columbus is about 80 miles and as before, the road is long, lonely and a great place to ride. I counted hawks, almost hitting one sitting in the middle of a curve having his leisurely breakfast. I counted paisanos, who were out in force today. And most interestingly, every one of the 30-40 I saw were running across the highway from the same side. Every single one. They all ran from my left to my right, or from north to the south. Weird.

I counted Border Patrol trucks. I counted 487,632 bottles of beer on the wall until I got a headache.

As I approached Hachati, I saw a man in a wheelchair tending his garden. He gave me a big wave and I honked back. It was touching and sad, because he was using a hoe from his wheelchair and his entire garden was a patch about 4 feet wide and maybe 8 long, in an irregular shape from what he was able to reach from the wheelchair. I felt sadness and hope simultaneously - sadness at the difficulty of what he was doing, and hope, because he wasn't wasting his life, but instead living it as best he could. If I see him again, I will stop to meet him.

Somewhere between Hachati and Columbus, I saw a glint way ahead in the other lane and slowed in case it was a mountie. Eventually, I saw it was another motorcycle and as he approached, it was an old guy with a beard on an old cruiser with a huge windshield, towing a home-made trailer built from an old Thule roof carrier. He gave me a huge wave and smile as if happy to see another guy who enjoyed the lonely road just as he did.

From Columbus, it's roughly one hour to El Paso, and the terrain becomes flatter and sandier the closer you get. At some points, you are very close to the border itself and the entire Hwy 9 runs parallel to the old bed of what was the railroad built to bring copper from Bisbee to El Paso.

It’s along this stretch that I saw the stacks of stone I mentioned before. At about 30 miles out from El Paso, I began to see stacks of rocks. Not often, but every once in a while. I photographed some very obvious ones, but sometimes it is merely two or three stones near a fence. Sometimes two or three stacked on 5 or 6 successive fence posts. Whether it's just the fun prank of a drunk cowboy artist, or road signs for illegals, who knows, but if you head that way, keep an eye out for them.

The mountains around El Paso on the horizon

Beautiful colors on these trees as I entered El P

I pulled onto I-10 in Sunland Park exactly at 1 pm and sunk into the bizarre sensations of traffic, society and congestion. All I had in mind was getting as far as possible, as soon as possible, and just hit it for Balmorhea.

I had planned to shoot a few pics in the old part of El Paso, and maybe spend the afternoon and night, but once my senses were violated I just went on. Gassed up in Horizon City just outside of El Paso and despite hunger pangs couldn't bring myself to stop anywhere to eat.

At first, 80 mph felt strange and uncomfortable after days of riding slow, but it wasn't long until it didn't feel fast enough.

Somewhere between El Paso and Sierra Blanca I passed a guy heading west on BMW 650 Dakar - the red white and blue one - and he was wearing a fluorescent yellow jacket and pants. We waved at each other. Surprisingly, I've seen very few bikes on this trip - mostly Harleys of course and not a single GS except for the 650 Dakar today.

I stopped in Van Horn to gas up and ate a quick burger since the coffee and breakfast scone had finally worn off with a vengeance. Kerrville was still 5 hours away and it was nearing 6 pm, so I figured Balmorhea would be a good spot to stop. I've heard about the state park and the lodging there and figured I'd try.

The late light of day on the highway was absolutely beautiful and stirred that deep undefined love I have about west Texas skies. Indulge me with some 80 mph one-handers:

The road into Balmorhea

I missed getting a cabin in the state park there by about 15 minutes, but found the El Oso Flojo Lodge in the little town. It's actually very nice and I'm the only guest at the moment.

As to the bike, the mileage issue seems to have cleared itself up. I can't figure out why, cause the bike was getting low 30's most of the trip until today. I got 46 mpg, then 43 mpg and of course on I-10 with the 80 mph limit it's down to sub 37. Weird.

More later gators!

Continue to Page VII

VII. Balmorrhea Blues

Well, the lodge had great wifi and is quite nicely done - my room was nice and had a huge tiled walk-in shower with a rain shower head. Recommended if you're in Balmorhea.

I dined late on the tortillas I bought in Animas, and was up and outside by 6:30 am, heading to the coffee room for java. Wandered out to the parking lot to look at the distant mountains in the pre-dawn cold. To my left in the darkness came the crow of a rooster, only to be answered to my right with the howl of a coyote. The crow and the howl answered each other for a while before the coyote went silent in the brightening dawn.

A few hunters who'd come in in the middle of the night, loaded into their pickups, the rattling diesels knocking in the cold air as they pulled out of the lot.

Lo and behold, there by the coffee pot was yet another Honey Bun. Couldn't help but laugh as this was the fourth of seven days in which I'd been presented with the glorious "Honey Bun" for breakfast. I never eat those things but this trip they were de rigueur. I should have called this ride "The Honey Bun Trail".

What's that under the microwave????

The last hunter loading up

Another spectacular day!

Downtown Balmorhea

Fall colors…

The sun was up and it was feeling almost warm when I saddled up, but about 4 miles down the road I had to stop and add a layer.

It was back to 80 mph into the low morning sun as I hit I-10 east for Fort Stockton and more gas. It was going to be another beautiful and crystal clear day. All I can say is that the weather this week has been unbelievably good. There hasn't been a cloud in the sky practically the entire time.

I reached Fort Stockton pretty soon and exited into town to fill up. The signs for Marathon and Big Bend National Park called my name very loudly. Man, I love Big Bend so much and I wanted to just head straight south. If I'd had another day, I wanted to ride down and through Terlingua on the long way home, but it wasn't to be.

While gassing up, I saw a 1200GS head by, the rider wearing a blue Darien jacket. As I tooled down the main drag surveying the place, I saw a white 650 Dakar at a convenience store with black Jesse cases on the side. All was well in the world again.

Funny thing has been how few bikes I saw in AZ this week and the ones I did were usually Harley's. It was fun to see a couple of Beemers again.

I stopped to see my old friend "Paisano Pete" as usual and he was all dressed up for Christmas. His little concrete lion was still guarding him well.

A couple of times on the freeway, the bike felt a little weird so I stopped and checked tire pressure. I hate it when you've been riding and then get onto a different surface with just enough variation to make the front move around - and combined with the wind makes you feel like your front is going flat. There were a few areas on I-10 that did that, especially an area of fresh chip-seal that looks new and flat but really made the front end wander.

Between Fort Stockton and Ozona there were more fresh deer kills than I've seen in a very long time. There were a bunch and it went on for a long distance. They were all fresh and I kept doing the numbers of how little traffic is on I-10, and the chances of hitting a deer, and realized there must have been one heck of a lot of deer crossing that highway last night. Sheesh.

I eventually caught up to a couple of Harley riders who were running about 65 and I slid past at about 85, giving a thumbs up as I passed.

Ozona came up after a while and I needed to make a phone call so I pulled into a gas station that was as busy as a beehive. In the lot, I saw the same white 650 Dakar with black Jesse's, and I figured he must have gotten on 10 while I was stopped to shoot Paisano Pete and had beaten me to Ozona by a couple of minutes.

By the time I got the receipt from inside, the rider was back out by his bike so we chatted for a sec. His name was Chris and he was heading back to Austin from a ride to California.

Chris from Austin

Before I could get going, a guy came up to talk GS's for a while, then wished me a safe trip. I got back on 10 and floored it for Sonora and Junction. After a few minutes, I could see Chris' Dakar come up behind me and we caravaned all the way to Junction in a high crosswind. There' s a plateau area from southeast of Junction that extends out towards Sonora and Ozona and it is amazing how strong the winds can be in that whole region.

The dead deer toll continued unabated until Junction, where I pulled off to make another call, with Chris behind me but turning east on 377 for Austin. When I pulled into the gas station to make the call, the same guy who'd talked to me about GS's back in Ozona was there and came over to say hi again. He left and another guy came over to ask about the GS - he was planning on getting back into riding again and was considering a V-Strom. We talked a while before his wife muscled him away.

The two Harley riders I'd passed way back came rumbling in and as we walked past I said hi, but they were too cool to respond. Shoulda known. I began gearing up and another guy walked over to look at the bike. Mike was from Marfa and rides a 1200GS. He said to give him a call when I hit the area and we'd do a ride.

Funny how the last 60 miles is the longest and as I raced for Kerrville it felt strange - the rush of riding and yet to a place that meant the ride would be ending. That old feeling of returning to reality. No more new places and faces each day.

But hey, this is a week of Thanksgiving and it couldn't be more appropriate. So much to be thankful to God for - the weather, the beautiful creation I get to experience, a safe journey and so much more.

Home at last

It was a great trip, just under 2000 miles and Arizona is hard to beat - beautiful, friendly and real!

Thanks for riding with me!

Adios my friends

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