Westward Bound

After our two weeks of training came to a close, it was time for the next part of my journey to Phoenix.  I headed west on Interstate 80 through Omaha.  By mid-afternoon, I was getting very bored with the highway and wanted some more scenic riding. I cut south and spent the night in Hays, Kansas, along Interstate 70.  I had planned to ride around town looking for some food, but impending rain pointed me to the Italian restaurant next to the motel, and that was a good thing. The restaurant was owned and operated by a family from northern Italy, and their menu had much more than spaghetti and pizza. I had chicken cooked in a thick, creamy, broth with many spices, served over a very light pasta. MMM… good!

The next morning, I headed west, then dropped south to Colorado Springs. The entire duration of our Des Moines trip had news of the wildfires, and Leeann had concerns for a friend of hers who lived in the area. I was arriving just as they got the fires under control.  I stopped for gas next to a hotel. Even at noon, the parking lot was full of cars. No doubt they were refugees from the fire, waiting to learn if their homes survived the fires.  I called Leeann to give her the update on the fires, and she had heard that her friend’s home was spared.  Good news.

I headed south and enjoyed some great home-style cooking in Walsenburg, Colorado. My plan was to head west and catch a road down to Taos, New Mexico. This was the weekend before July 4th, so there were lots of cars and campers on the roads. I had passed a motorcycle cop who was helping change the tire on an RV. A few miles later, it became obvious that there was no longer any oncoming traffic. And a few miles after that, the traffic in my direction came to a complete stop. I turned the bike around in the road and headed back to alert the cop. He had been too busy with the tire to notice that there was an accident ahead, but he radioed it in to his dispatcher and thanked me.  They were not yet aware of the incident.

As a result, I headed south to the town of Trinidad, at the very southern edge of Colorado in Interstate 29. Built in a valley, the architecture showed  that this town had once been prosperous. Coal mines had been a major industry there, but it has since changed to drilling for natural gas. The main street had many businesses, which was a very good sign that the economy had survived the transition.

The next morning, I headed out to find an alternate route towards Santa Fe. I didn’t realize what a beautiful morning ride it would be. The route took me across Cimeron Pass, part of the old Santa Fe Trail. This was featured in many western films, and the long, narrow canyon always provided a challenge for the good guy to defend the stage coach. I stop for breakfast in a scenic resort town. The small restaurant had only a few tables, and I felt guilty when the only available one had four empty chairs. An elderly couple walked in, and looked disappointed that they would have to wait, so I invited them to join me. They were visiting from Oklahoma, and came to this town every summer for eighteen years.  We had fun talking while we waited for the overloaded kitchen to serve our food.

I had not planned to, but the road took me to Taos, the destination I had planned for the previous day but got rerouted. It is a small town with pueblo architecture. Not far away is the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, on of the famous landmarks in the area.  Prior to building the bridge, travelers had to go quite a distance in order to cross the deep river gorge.  While the Rio Grande River travels south to become the border between Texas and Mexico, the river begins in the Rocky Mountains and works its way through New Mexico.

Taos was a scenic little town.  Unfortunately, my trip there was during the July Fourth holiday week, so there was much traffic. This made it challenging to find parking so I could get photos of the town (to the point where I finally gave up).  I traveled south to Santa Fe, and while it is a much larger city, the streets are still very narrow and the holiday traffic was terrible. It was my intent to spend the night there, but motels were booked, so I finally gave up on the search. Instead, I made it through Albuquerque, and headed west to spend the night in Gallup, New Mexico.

I should have checked the surroundings a bit better before choosing a motel, as the main street follows the railroad. Trains were frequent, and ran late into the night and resumed early in the morning hours. This made for a very tired and grumpy biker.

While I was looking forward to seeing my dear friends Beard and Peanut in Phoenix, I was not looking forward to the extreme heat of central Arizona.  Fortunately, I was able to find a scenic route into the city by getting off the interstates and following US 60 through the cities of Show Low and Globe. The mountain pass is incredibly scenic, and other than the great numbers of RVs trying (poorly) to climb the mountains and navigate the sharp curves. At least a motorcycle was able to take advantage of the rare passing lanes to scoot around the slow traffic.

Next: Visiting Beard and Peanut