The 1000 mile club

Well I been from Tuscon to Tucumcari,
Tehachapi to Tonapa
I been on every kinda rig that's ever been ma-ade
Ridden the backroads, so I wouldn't get way-laid...

I mention this little snippet of a song called "Willin" by Little Feat for two reasons. First, it's the only reference I know to Tucumcari, today's destination. Second, and more important, it's been bouncing around in my head for the last six days and I really need it to stop. Maybe posting this in public will make it go away...

I'm having a little technical difficulty with the Google Earth files. I have all the data, and it should be fixed by tomorrow, but for today there is no link.

Today was a beast of a ride, 108 miles from Las Vegas to Tucumcari, with 3500 feet of climbing. Tracy described it last night as either the 1st or 2nd most difficult day of the tour. After my two days in the Mojave I was a little tentative about any ride that might be tougher. The forecast called for afternoon thunderstorms. After yesterday's debacle I had incentive to ride hard.

Early on in the day we officially passed to 1000 mile mark of the trip. That might normally be a time for reflection, but I'm too tired and my fanny is too sore to get terribly philosophical.


We left the mountains today, with one last postcard view. I was actually a little melancholy about it. I love the mountains. I could ride in them forever, but that's not the road we're on. At least the last major mountain descent, until New England anyway, was a fun one. It was a 9% grade with wonderful expansive views and good road.


We rode the steepest section of climbing on the entire tour around the 67 mile mark. They call this "The Wall". Personally I think that's a little overstated. It 0.6 miles of 8-9% grade. By Bay Area standards it's too short to be considered a wall, but it's still a nice pull in hot weather.


I spent most of the day riding with Terry, a really strong rider from Alberta. We joined up around mile 48, and for most of the next 50 miles I rode on his wheel. I offered to pull, but he was feeling really strong and I could barely keep up even riding in his draft. Hey, I'm not proud. I'll take a tow. He just hammered all day long and we made really good time.

We were in really desolate country. There was one gas station along a 105 mile stretch of road, and essentially nothing else. We'd filled up two bottles each at the last SAG stop, figuring that would be plenty for the 32 miles left. Big mistake.

With about 15 miles to go I noticed him slowing down so I took a turn at the front.Then he fell off the back. He was having your classic "Bonk". The normal solution for this is to pull into a convenience store, down a snickers bar and a coke, and wait ten minutes. Then you're good to go. That wasn't an option out here.

We both ran out of water as the afternoon sun started to make things hot. It was pushing 90 degrees outside and we were both dry. The miles seem to take forever when you're in a situation like that. I slowed way down and we stopped a few times. We made it back without incident and Terry thanked me profusely for helping him make it in through that stretch. Here's what I told him: "You towed me along for 50 miles. I'd have to be a world-class jackass to leave you alone, dry, and bonked in the desert".

We have to look out for each other out here.