Peggy fed Jeffrey a wonderful omelet, and croissants with three kinds of homemade jam. Then it was time to get on with it.
Here we are, pulling out of the Wilsons’ garage. We stopped to buy a new helmet on our way out of town.
Peggy and George live at 5500 feet (1680 meters). We reached at least 5900 feet (1800 meters) this afternoon. The air up here has 20% less oxygen than at sea level. I don’t mind because I don’t breathe. Jeffrey feels it.
George rented a truck. He drove a few miles ahead of us, then waited for us to catch up. He saw us across the Rio Puerco to tonight’s destination, then drove home. Tomorrow we’ll pedal beyond quick driving distance from Rio Rancho, and George will stay with us as our chaperone until, some days from now, we’re past the worst of the Mojave.
Ariana and James believe that refugees should be treated with justice and kindness. They could use a little in their own lives.
Sonny worked in the medical equipment field, and retired here from California. He’s a gentle man who supports the principles of Human Rights First.
Jan is an avid bicyclist, affiliated with groups that do rides for causes and for fun.
Susan is into mountain biking and gravel biking – way too daring for us! She wished us a wonderful trip.
Eric and Duaine, son and father, retired from the military. We talked about bicycling and San Antonio, Texas.
Bob pulled off the road to talk to us. He’s about to leave for a bicycle trip through Denmark and points east. His daughter is in the Peace Corps in Uganda. We hope he’ll follow the Ride.
Some scenic views:
On our way out of town.
Note the pebbly shoulder. We had better pavement for much of the route today . . . and worse too.
A ghost bike near little Double Eagle airport. There is a story there.
This sign on I-40 understates the distance for us. We will take some detours to avoid the superhighway.
Jeffrey liked this ranch sign because of all the R’s.
What a great bike lane, in the middle of nowhere.
We’re spending the night at this gambling oasis. It’s the only hotel for miles.
We saw fauna and flora.
This anthill cone is different from the ones we know back East.
Here I am, perched on a tumbleweed. These things are everywhere, blowing across roads and fields, piling up against fences.
For the last 8 miles today, we pedaled into a 19 mph (31 kph) headwind. We are steeling ourselves for more of the same tomorrow.