30th April Took day off!

There was a “Wind Advisory” on the weather forecast today and given the strength of the wind when there was no warning I couldn’t summon up the energy or the enthusiasm to fight another battle with that Aeolus chappy today so had a day off , met quite a few other bikers, mostly from the States on shorter trips and took stock of why I was so interested in doing the trip.

It was all down to John Steinbeck and his accounts of the migration west of the dirt farmers who chose to leave the dust bowl of Oklahoma or who were thrown off their farms when the banks called in loans they couldn’t repay. 

Info around explains that severe droughts ravaged the Great Plains in the early 1930s, stirring up dust storms and eroding land that had once been prairie grass but had been ploughed up to grow wheat and then over-farmed to meet the high demand following the First World War. When, additionally, in the Depression-era crop prices fell drastically less wheat was planted so there was no binding for the soil and as the drought continued “the landscape became uninhabitable and as the depression wore on, more than 200,000 refugees from Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Missouri followed Route 66 west to Arizona or California in search of jobs and new homes.”

In Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath “Highway 66 is the main migrant road. 66—the long concrete path across the country, waving gently up and down on the map….66 is the path of people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land, from the thunder of tractors and shrinking ownership….66 is the mother road, the road of flight.”

 It was that “Mother Road” I wanted to follow and I’ve done a pretty good job of doing just that so far I think.

 I’m surprised though at how little historical information I’ve come across on the great dust storms whilst on this trip.  I have though experienced physical conditions that have shown me the potential for such storms - the wind is incessant and lifts the dry red dust with ease - and which have brought home to me how desperate those families must have been to keep going across terrain that even with the modern convenience stops of Burger King and House of Pancakes totally drains you.

 It may not be so obvious in an air conditioned car on the Interstate so you could say what he is going on about but on a bike on the old road you get a fair idea of what doing that journey in an open cab of an overladen jalopy must have been like.           

I know, get a life .......

29th April Old Road, Dodgy Camera and Arizona

Wild life count today, one gopher...

There's never a snake when you want one...

Right lets sort this El Camino Real sorted.  It began around 1598 when the Spanish Colonialists started venturing up the Rio Grande from what is now Mexico to the far north of their influence in northern New Mexico. The route covered 1600 miles  - hey another adventure possibility - and developed as the main trading route between Mexico and New Mexico - and remember New Mexico didn't become  a territory of America until 1850 nor a US State until 1912 - one for the pub quiz. Route 66 followed part of this route, especially from Santa Fe to Albuquerque and weird as I am I found it fascinating to follow in all the historical footsteps - or really should say trotters as it appears that when travellers set off on this route they took all their food with them, including livestock and the column moved as fast as a pig could trot.

And it's that slow pace of  travel which makes the endeavours of the pioneers who crossed this land or the early migrants who used the route 66 all the more amazing.

I rode nearly 200 miles today over the harshest terrain I've experienced so far on this trip, leaving Gallup, New Mexico and  crossing into Arizona

 - and another time zone, so now 8 hours behind the UK - the land quickly became desert scrub.  It was far more arid and there were no obvious signs of water - it just went on and on and with the temperature at 30deg C and the wind still reminding me of it's presence it was a long hot, uncomfortable and demanding ride.

Chief Navigation Officer Frog at his station...

How must it have been covering those 200 miles in a wagon at 10 miles a day or an old truck at say 25 mph.

And then after a few hours for me but 2 to 10 days for them you see mountains beginning to appear in the distance with the possibility of water yes, but how to get through them....

 

 No, that's not the Phantom Road Runner, something has got into the camera  ... sorry!

One thing they wouldn't have had to put up with though is the plethora of signs telling them about all the genuine Indian goods they could buy. I need to be very careful here because I don’t want to offend anyone but if the only experience visitors have of the Native American tradition is gained from their observation along this main artery it will be a pretty tacky one. What with Geronimo’s, Yellow Horse and the like all trying to sell you rubber tomahawks or genuine Indian insulated coffee mugs.

 

 

Now here's the rub,  the guys running some of these "trading posts" must be on the bones of their bums to use a financial term and then along comes a group of Mission Indians in an air conditioned super-coach that must have cost more than these guys would see in a generation! What's that all about?

 

  



 One sign said" Want to wake up in a genuine Indian Hogan" the traditional house of the Navajo. Don't know if that was an invitation or wise counsel in regard to limiting my drink intake at the local bars.

Maybe I should think about coming back here on Sunday ...

A "must stop" in this area is, according to the books The Jack Rabbit Trading Post. In it's heyday - what does that mean - I will be told no doubt - ads for it started appearing 87 miles, yes 87 miles before you got to it. So needed to have a look. Well, here it is...

 

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Scenes from one stop I made.....

 

Then, just as it really is getting unbearable the dry scrub started being replaced by small trees and bushes and the wooded slopes of the San Francisco Peaks heralded my approach to Flagstaff, Arizona or perhaps Sedona, not on Route 66 I know, but a beautiful peaceful place......

 

 

 Night all....

 

Sunday 28th April Across the Rio Grande

Another glorious morning and west New Mexico beckons.

Definite objectives today and not necessarily associated directly with Route 66 but still very much on my “to do” list. I want to see the Coronado Monument, the Statue Tribute to the Pioneer women who trekked across the west with their men and follow a bit of the El Camino Real (yes Roger I know El means the but I’m an intrepid biker not a linguist) the earliest Euro-American Trade Route in the US.

But first I had to drive down the escarpment from Santa Fe and on the way down look for the remains of the original winding route from the early 30s. I never found that – the guide books say approach by 4x4 only and my 2x1 began to object at the off-roading, constantly moaning that it was a Pan European designed for French Autoroutes and German Autobahn - even this cow thought “what the ….”

 

After abandoning that search I enjoyed an amazing ride along sweeping roads across a landscape with red rock buttes in the distance yet scattered with black volcanic rock from the long extinct – like 150, 000 years long - Black Volcano near Albuquerque...,

 



 



 and chasing trains...

 

 

the climax of which must have been actually crossing the Rio Grande, still can’t believe I’ve done that!

Then immediately on to the Coronado State Monument in Bernalillo. In 1540 Captain-General Francisco Vasquez do Coronado led an expedition north out of what was then New Spain in search of the Legendary Seven Cities of Gold. He hoped to find treasures similar to those found a couple of decades earlier among the Aztecs and Incas. He didn’t and after wondering about a bit and generally making life unpleasant for the indigenous population – in this case Pueblo Indians – he went home. It was the life of the Indians I was interested in and the Coronado monument is on the site of one village, Kuaua, started in the early 1300s.  The village was excavated in 1935 and the major find was an underground room, known as a Kiva, which was the heart of the villagers ritual ceremonies – like many such peoples their homage was to the land, the sun and water and whatever they undertook they called down the spirits of the elements to bless them. In this Kiva the archaeologists found murals from the 1500s and they were on show – it was a truly wonderful, peaceful place and the fact that it was on the banks of the Rio Grande was just too tempting – I had to have a paddle.

 

That - and below - is the Rio Grande - and a big grin!

 

 

Now on to Alburquerque. Tales of pioneers moving westwards always feature men doing men’s stuff, fighting indigenous tribes, harsh winters, rough terrain, weather etc. So in 1909 a group of women, later joined by the National Society of Daughters of the American Revolution and National Old Trails Road Association started a project to honour and celebrate those eight hundred thousand women who accompanied the men and did exactly the same - as well as looking after the children, the “mobile home|” and of course their men. Referred to as The Madonnas of the Trail Project the early plans to erect a monument every mile across the continent - 3095 in all - didn’t materialise but 12 statues were erected in 1928-29, strung along the National Old Trails Roads – each identical, 18ft high showing a mother with a babe in arms, a young child, a determined look and a rifle. There is one in Albuquerque and I wanted to see it. And see it I did…

 

 

From Alburquerque I began to look for El Camino Real (see I learn quickly) but that will have to wait til tomorrow – did 269 miles today in 29⁰C wearing full riding gear and am very weary need a bath and maybe a beer…..

 

I must admit on looking back at the above it is a bit heavy, sorry must have been more tired than I realised. It really wasn't that kind of day - but full of really good riding roads, twisty and through the red rock gorges - some though just petered out...

 

Notice the Cow theme today...

others swung far away from the Interstate to take easy routes but you could see where the more modern road builders had just sliced through

 

Here the old route swings right to go around but top left the Interstate just goes straight

 

At this stop I found a shrine to a German Biker who died in October last year and who apparently loved this rout. Someone had placed a photograph in a rock cleft

 

 

Don't know where you are Klaus, but it is still as much fun as ever....

 

Then, another significant find, well I thought it was.... The Continental Divide, the line at which rain that falls to the East drains into the Atlantic and that which fall on the West drains into the Pacific. Now here I owe my American friends - I have a few, ok 3 but it is the quality of friendship not the quantity, now there's a dig at facebook, that's important - and I did think that with all the "World Famous" this (bait farms, totem poles, pancakes etc) they would have made a big thing about the Continental Divide and was quite excited. Well......

 

a bit of a disappointment to say least.  However... on talking to one third of my American Friends, ie Gary, I realise that being off the track I saw the local Native American approach and there is an official and perhaps more detailed acknowledgement nearer the Interstate. Sorry America...

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday 27th April The Santa Fe Trail

http://maps.google.ca/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=200059512251364914226.0004daba15b3107f38ef0

An easy day today. Just 170 miles of the old pre 1937 route up and through Santa Fe along part of the Santa Fe Trail. When Route 66 was originally commissioned this circuitous route was necessary because it was the only way through the mountains but by 1937 it was possible to cut and open a more direct route from Santa Rosa to Albuquerque and Santa Fe was bypassed.

However, because Santa Fe had some 400 years of “modern” history, its status as a capital dates back to 1610, it was not dependent on passing trade and that is obvious today. It is not what I expected having passed so many neglected and abandoned communities but a thriving bustling City -  the stock in the Lexus dealers lot vouched for that - that is the State Capital and a vacation resort for winter and summer activities.  Shows what I know.

The ride up was beautiful but again it was exciting to be following such an old route – here not only Route 66 but The Santa Fe Trail – I won’t go off on another anorak session but read about it, our forebears really were tough weren’t they. My journey by comparison was a doddle, but not without incident. One as a result of a Pick-up truck driver with one tail light out – for some reason the Americans haven’t grasped the idea of amber indicators – their brake lights flash so if the left one is out they can totally screw up your day with left turns whilst braking! Another due to this chap on the road.

My resident herpetologist, ok Gary, tells me it’s a gopher snake which is a constrictor and not poisonous but that information came after my discussions as to the right of way with it so I let it

take its time.

 

The views from the road as I climbed up to Santa Fe – it sits at 7000ft - were magnificent but my camera - and my lack of skills – don’t do it justice. The stubby shrub land gave way to evergreen forests yet the grass still had the look of raffia.

 

 

 

The route went past Las Vegas - The New Mexico one – and it was only a short detour to ride through there. Again the feel of this town was so totally different to places I’d recently passed through.

Las Vegas, New Mexico

 I got into Santa Fe earlier than I thought I would and so took advantage of the glorious sunshine, hotel pool and free coffee and cookies to re-group and wash of that red dust. Hey someone has to do it and  a week in and 2287 miles gone I admit I need it.

And as the local website tells me that at this altitude 1 drink has the effect of 3 at sea level it will be a cheap night...

 

 

 

26th April Across the Texas Panhandle to New Mexico

Another exciting day ahead – aren’t they all really. 

Driving out of Amarillo,Texas and into New Mexico.  Looking at books and maps it looks as if there is a significant amount of the old road left but it was so totally side-lined by the new Interstate that the communities really did suffer and one or two places are real “ghost towns”.

 Also, with a good wind, and there is plenty of that I should reach the halfway stage of the latest Route 66 alignment today.

Setting off from Amarillo the first place of note I came to was Vega which was still struggling on but you wonder how. This little gas station was no longer open but had been restored so that you could look around – or could if it was open, it wasn’t.

 However some of the other business which were specifically aimed at Route 66ers like myself seemed a little weird. Dot’s museum for example, although apparently Dot has now passed away.

 

The main cross roads in the town looked ok, with a great mural on one of the buildings ...

but look at the road in and the road out…

 

 

I drove past the “Cadillac Stonehenge” which again you’ll see in all the books but I couldn’t get a photo because it was well the other side of the Interstate which had joined us for a while. However if I’m honest I wasn’t particularly fussed. You know I can get quite enthused by all that kind of stuff but this really did nothing – a bunch of cars stuck nose first in the ground – don’t know where all that “spiritual feel” comes from.  I get a much greater emotional buzz from seeing something like this abandoned grain elevator and imagining the work, sweat and eventual heartache it’s seen.

Texas opened out in front of me – and I mean opened out. The land flattened out and in every direction to the horizon all you could see was scrub and occasional grass. There appeared to be no boundaries other than those created by the few roads. It is difficult to think that anything could survive in that terrain but there were cattle grazing – on what I don’t know – all over.  And then you began to realise how many cattle there must have been because slowly the smell began to hit you, and enormous stock yards appeared where cattle were collected and presumably freighted off to markets. 

Every time I pulled through any small towns that smell was there.

And then I was at Adrian, really exciting as this is reputed to be the half way point on Route 66, being exactly 1,139 miles from Chicago and Los Angeles. A bit difficult to confirm or otherwise it’s claim to fame as the route has changed so many times and one long stretch – from Santa Rosa to Santa Fe and down to Albuquerque via the Old Santa Fe Trail  was  cut out altogether. 

1,139 miles is a long way but I’d already travelled 2117 since leaving my daughter Lyndsay’s in Ontario and 1517  had been in route 66 from Chicago.

 But nevertheless it had to be a photo moment and there was a great café.

As I have said I was surprised by the lack of other bikers on the route, I had seen a Honda Goldwing ridden by an American couple at the hotel last night and at the Midpoint Café I met a German guy who had also flown his own bike over for the trip – a Beemer of course - but  apart from 2 or 3 Harleys obviously out for a days drive no others.

 Leaving Adrian I drove on towards New Mexico. The land around me became barren scrub or desert, I don’t know the proper description but there was a lot of nothingness. It began to climb and hills appeared.  At one point I had to join Interstate as the old route was directly underneath it and as I crested a hill the Panhandle of Texas stretched out and I felt very small and not a little twitchy as the enormity of the trip began to hit me.

 

Another “thought Provoking “ moment was when I had again got on to the old route as it twisted and turned among small hills of red rock and as the temperature rose to 27 deg C I suddenly realised I had no more water with me. If I had broken down I could eventually get help – I had all the modem gismos – but how long would it take to come? I wouldn't die of thirst but it would be uncomfortable. Got thinking then of how absolutely overpowering the burden of responsibility must have been for the mothers and fathers forced to make the trek to a hopefully better life over these roads in their Model T trucks with 5, 6 or even more kids and possible grandma and Grandpa to worry about.

Just before leaving Texas I slipped into Glenrio, as near to a ghost town as I’m ever likely to see. If I remember rightly from the Billy Connolly show there is one woman stubbornly living there but no-one else.

 

Then I crossed the State line into New Mexico – another time zone Mountain Standard Time, now 7 hours behind the UK, I remembered this time – but not a lot changed.

 

 

The wind had come up again and was raising dust in clouds which obliterated that distant horizon on occasions. The dust covered me and the bike and with this  and yesterday’s dose the inside of my nose is so sandblasted it’s begun to bleed – ok too much information – but he dust bowl seems all too real...

 

 

 

I wonder what this old timer had seen of it.

 

 

Wild life count today comprised one road-runner but as I had my helmet on I couldn’t tell if it really went “beep-beep”.

And so to bed in Santa Rosa, New Mexico.....