Whispering Pines Camp ~ Datil, New Mexico |
On the back of my jacket is a new patch that Lori made for me. She also designed a t-shirt with a similar logo. Both are beautiful and I look forward to wearing them on this trip. My miles are stacking up on my Yamaha Road Star and I will hit 60,000 somewhere on this trip.
Day 1. My goal is Upper Satellite which lies on
USFS lands just outside of Ash Fork, Arizona.
It is a long day but stopping anywhere else in the hot desert just
doesn't make sense. As I approach Ash
Fork, the temperature begins to drop. I
think I left my bungee cord here on my last trip with Gilbert so I go to the
spot where we camped but it is not there.
I set up camp nearby where there is ample firewood and the hot stew
tastes good. The stars are bright and I
hear coyotes in the distance. I think
about the 540 miles after leaving Three Rivers but sleep erases those miles quickly as I fall asleep.
Day 2. The weather in Flagstaff is always
unpredictable. The roads are wet but no rain has fallen on me yet but it is very cold. I navigate off interstate 40 for a back road called Mary's Lake Road that is peaceful and relaxing. There are several lakes and on our last trip, Gilbert and I saw over 300 elk in a huge meadow. It is elk season so that's in the back of my mind when selecting a camping spot. This road takes me by Happy Jack, Strawberry, Pine, Payson, Herber, Show Low, and Pine Top. My tio Bene use to live in McNary and as kids we would love to go see him where he worked at the Logging Mill.
I must keep moving on if I hope to reach Whispering Pines, just outside of Datil, New Mexico. I pass Eagar, Quemado, and Pie Town. The rains hit and my rain gear keeps me dry. In my rear view mirror, I see a light curtain of bending rain with huge beams of sunlight shining through. I then see the silhouette of a lone biker approaching in the distance. It is one of the most magical views I've seen. The biker passes me with all of his rain gear on, and we lower our left hands in a sign brotherhood. All without speaking a single word.
Another long day but tomorrow will be a short
day into La Joya. The rain has stopped
and I slow down to enjoy the scenery.
There is a small store in Datil where I buy a big T-bone steak and head
for Whispering Pines where I have camped before. It is on USFS lands and is remote. I find the spot where I camped three years ago and the rocks from
my campfire are exactly as I left them.
I hear hunters nearby and I build a good fire to let them know where I
am. Tonight, the most beautiful sunset
welcomes me home to New Mexico and the T-bone steak cooked over my campfire was
my best ever.
unpredictable. The roads are wet but no rain has fallen on me yet but it is very cold. I navigate off interstate 40 for a back road called Mary's Lake Road that is peaceful and relaxing. There are several lakes and on our last trip, Gilbert and I saw over 300 elk in a huge meadow. It is elk season so that's in the back of my mind when selecting a camping spot. This road takes me by Happy Jack, Strawberry, Pine, Payson, Herber, Show Low, and Pine Top. My tio Bene use to live in McNary and as kids we would love to go see him where he worked at the Logging Mill.
I must keep moving on if I hope to reach Whispering Pines, just outside of Datil, New Mexico. I pass Eagar, Quemado, and Pie Town. The rains hit and my rain gear keeps me dry. In my rear view mirror, I see a light curtain of bending rain with huge beams of sunlight shining through. I then see the silhouette of a lone biker approaching in the distance. It is one of the most magical views I've seen. The biker passes me with all of his rain gear on, and we lower our left hands in a sign brotherhood. All without speaking a single word.
Tudie Romero and Robert Griego, 1st cousins de La Joya, NM |
Day 3. I break camp quickly and head for the only
cafe in Datil. They are playing some
very old country-western music and the entire place is rich in western
appearance. Everyone who comes into this
cafe greets me with a "good morning" and I do the same. The breakfast is good, filling, and hits the
spot. The ride from here into Magdalena
and Socorro is some of the most beautiful country in New Mexico. My ride is quiet and I am so thankful for
the beauty all around me. I thank God
for everything.
I call my sister Elva and let her know that I'm here for the
Fiestas and I plan to visit her and Robert who live in Abo. But first, I want to go see my 1st cousin
Tudie in Belen. Unknown to me, he fell
from a tree that he was trimming and was seriously hurt. He was just released from the hospital where
he spent three weeks; he had broken his pelvis in two spots and required
surgery. He is recuperating and is
anxious to began exercising. He knows
that I am here for the fiestas and we take some pictures and part our ways
until next time.
I arrive in La Joya and pay my respects at the Cemetery and
then head for Jewels Camp and later tonight, the Fiestas! There is a big downpour shortly after I make
camp and this rain will delay the fiestas some. After a 30 minute delay, the music is playing and people are
leaving the shelters of their cars and pickup trucks to gather at the
church. I quickly find myself eating
beans, green chili, and sopapillas while the music plays; I'm happy. Father Peter is nearby so I say hello. "I remember you from last time" he
says quickly. "You ride a
motorcycle, right"? He listens as I briefly tell him about my ride. I do not think he fully understood the miles
to get here.
Day 4. I break camp early and quickly. In less than 20 minutes, I'm on the road
heading for Socorro and specifically, Sophia's Kitchen. The huevos rancheros are topped with a
mountain of green chile, with coffee, water, and tortillas that fill me to the
brim, and then some. The musicians are
getting ready to play but I need to move on as I'm planning to go to Ruidoso
where I hear their is a big bike rally in the hills. I've never been there so I adjust my compass South/East into the
mountains where Billie the Kid became famous.
The ride takes me back in time and the life of Billie the Kid. I think I see a group of mounted cowboy
outlaws just ahead.... nope.... just some bikers and I send them a friendly
wave.
New Mexico does not have a helmet law so most of the bikers are riding free with the wind; my helmet on securely on and I feel just as free. A biker approaches, then another, then more, each extending their left hand; I return the gesture. There are no words spoken, yet we spoke simply and clearly..."hello brother, isn't this great, ride safe." Ruidoso has maybe 2,000 bikers in town, and I walk the streets to absorb the moment. Some say they are coming from El Paso, Texas and they are surprised that I came all the way out here from California. I'm now heading South for Las Cruces, and hopefully just beyond Silver City. It will be a long day but taking the side route to Ruidoso is worth it. I made a few calls to assure everyone that I'm OK.
New Mexico does not have a helmet law so most of the bikers are riding free with the wind; my helmet on securely on and I feel just as free. A biker approaches, then another, then more, each extending their left hand; I return the gesture. There are no words spoken, yet we spoke simply and clearly..."hello brother, isn't this great, ride safe." Ruidoso has maybe 2,000 bikers in town, and I walk the streets to absorb the moment. Some say they are coming from El Paso, Texas and they are surprised that I came all the way out here from California. I'm now heading South for Las Cruces, and hopefully just beyond Silver City. It will be a long day but taking the side route to Ruidoso is worth it. I made a few calls to assure everyone that I'm OK.
Day 5. I stop for gas and I ask the guy, "how
far to Silver City"? "30 to 40 minutes he says", but his voice
sounds unsure to me yet I set my mental clock accordingly. After 40 minutes, Silver City is nowhere in
sight. It will be another hour before I
arrive at it's city limits. That guy has likely never been to Silver City as he was off by a good
hour. An hour for me means that I will
arrive in camp well after dark. I ride
beyond Silver City and still no camp spot; too many fences around and private
property signs everywhere. I go what
seems forever but in reality it is only another 50 miles and then I see what I
have been looking for - a sign that reads "Bill Evans Lake
two miles ahead." I know
there will be camping here and I immediately spot huge cottonwood trees where
earlier campers had a fire. I immediately
call this spot, Desperation Camp. I
decide to not camp directly under those huge cottonwood trees with falling
limbs and within minutes my fire is roaring.
I quickly go about my business of setting up camp, and when I am done, I
think Desperation Camp, is a perfect name for this spot. The night sky is bright and the shooting
stars zip by, one after another. It is
only in the morning that I realize that there is a stream nearby that comes
from Bill Evan Lake and the area is quite nice. Bill Evan Lake is a good spot and I was very lucky to find it in
the dark, however, the name Desperation Camp sticks.
Day 6. I'm in Glenwood, New Mexico and the only cafe
in this one horse town is open for breakfast.
What a find. The lady who runs
this is the hostess, cook, and bus girl.
Her homemade food is perfect.
She serves up the biggest biscuits I've ever had. My eggs, potatoes, sausage, and coffee give
me all the comfort of a home cooked meal, and then some. I make a quick decision and adjust my
direction 90 degrees; I'll head south towards Tomstone, Arizona and my bike has
a new heading. Highway 78 pointing East
is one of the most easy going, scenic rides, it carries a name of Mule Creek
Road and I am very near the Arizona/New Mexico boarder.
I come to Blackjack Campground on USFS land and I make a mental note that this is a potential camping spot; it is in the forest and has a nearby stream. I meet two bikers from Phoenix who suggest I go to Bisbee and then Tombstone. I am on some very small farm roads and Bisbee is not what I had expected. Tombstone on the other hand is cool. I immediately feel that I stepped back in time with the law and wild cowboys roaming the streets. The country music coming from Big Nose Kate's Saloon is too hard to resist; the cold beer compliments the good music and I rest. I do not find any good camping spots and the temperature is hot in the desert. In Tucson, it is evident that I will not find a camping spot so I opt for a night at a local motel. You would think it would be easy, just pulling up to a motel but it isn't. I have to take all of my gear inside and I have a lot of little things and I make many trips. I do not feel as safe here compared to my usual camping spots with the coyotes. The hot shower does sure feel good.
I come to Blackjack Campground on USFS land and I make a mental note that this is a potential camping spot; it is in the forest and has a nearby stream. I meet two bikers from Phoenix who suggest I go to Bisbee and then Tombstone. I am on some very small farm roads and Bisbee is not what I had expected. Tombstone on the other hand is cool. I immediately feel that I stepped back in time with the law and wild cowboys roaming the streets. The country music coming from Big Nose Kate's Saloon is too hard to resist; the cold beer compliments the good music and I rest. I do not find any good camping spots and the temperature is hot in the desert. In Tucson, it is evident that I will not find a camping spot so I opt for a night at a local motel. You would think it would be easy, just pulling up to a motel but it isn't. I have to take all of my gear inside and I have a lot of little things and I make many trips. I do not feel as safe here compared to my usual camping spots with the coyotes. The hot shower does sure feel good.
Day 7. At Casa Grande while eating breakfast,
my decision is whether to go onto San Diego or begin heading towards home. In Gila Bend, I began turning North towards
Three Rivers. It is hot and I stop at
every rest stop for water. Near the
Blythe rest stop along the Interstate 10, I spot a road runner and then I see a
baby road runner, something I've never seen before. The temperature must be at least 110 degrees and I sense that
this will be a very long day. Indio,
Redlands, and San Bernardino are still a ways ahead of me. The traffic is fast and it takes all of my
concentration to keep up with the flow. In
Victorville, I jump on hwy 395 and my goal is Walker Pass near Lake
Isabella. It is almost 7pm when I
arrive in Inyokern where I buy groceries.
By 7:30pm, I arrive at Walker Pass, a BLM campground and begin to
quickly gather fire wood. It is only
later that I see that I've gone 608 miles today; something I didn't plan. The stars are absolutely brilliant and I
settle down for some stew, beer, peanuts, and music. This campground is primarily for those hiking the Pacific Crest
Trail but there is no one else around.
Day 8. Near Lake Isabella, I give Warnell a call
and we reminisce about our fishing trips here with his parents when we were
about 12 years old living in Barstow.
He reminds me that the croppies are biting at this time of the
year. I stop by Kaweah Delta Hospital
in Visalia to see Denise who is with her sister Arlene who will have surgery
today. I'm soon home. It was another great ride.
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