Cycling the Great Divide, Day One: Antelope Wells, New Mexico to Hachita, New Mexico
June 1st, 2016: 46 miles. Total so far: 46 miles.
We started off with breakfast at the Deming Hampton Inn, where no biscuits were provided. This was, of course, a minor hardship compared to the “roughing it” I’ll be engaged in over the next two months. The “roughing it” will include:
- Sleeping on the ground, without my beloved buckwheat pillow.
- Reducing my twice-daily showers to zero per day.
- Somehow going to the bathroom in the deserts and forests where, I am informed, no actual bathrooms exist.
After breakfast we drove to the border crossing at Antelope Wells, which is very remote indeed, and started getting the bikes ready.
I rode my fully loaded bike about 100 feet before noticing a terrible shimmy and wobble that rendered the bike nearly unrideable. After 20 tense minutes, Joy the mechanic solved the problem by tightening a couple of bolts.
The day’s ride to the near-ghost-town of Hachita was hot and windy. This “boot heel” of New Mexico is extremely remote and empty. Virtually the only traffic we saw all day were border patrol agents and a few cowboys.
We stopped several times to rest, eat, drink, and apply sunscreen. Until the end of the day there wasn’t any vegetation tall enough to supply shade, but we still stopped a few times and sat in the collapsible camp chairs we’re carrying. Joy was carrying an umbrella, which, despite my pre-trip scoffing, proved useful.
I didn’t venture very far off the road during our stops — I had heard about the scorpions and venomous snakes in the area. Despite my caution, I was stabbed several times by thorns and prickly bushes. I shared my insight with Joy — “The desert is full of pointy things!”, but she didn’t seem very impressed by this revelation.
Several times we saw “dust devils”, which I’d read about but never seen. They’re pretty cool.
The headwinds grew strong as we reached the outskirts of Hachita, which is very nearly a ghost town. There are no open businesses, and only about 30 residents remain. Years ago, mining attracted enough people to support stores, hotels, groceries and saloons. Now there are more crumbling buildings than people in Hachita.
Our home for the night was the community center, where the residents generously allow touring cyclists to sleep. It has a bathroom, potable water, and a kitchen.
We sat up our tent inside the building. I’d heard there might be tarantulas inside.
Later, after dinner, we walked around around town, a walk which was shortened when a local man engaged us in a long conversation. He told us some interesting stuff about Hachita, but it was getting past our bedtime. The conversation finally ended after he attempted to “mansplain” to Joy the “correct” way to hang the clothesline upon which our bike clothes were drying. Joy has a very, very low tolerance for that sort of thing, and told the guy goodnight, we were going to bed.
