Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 5 True to my thoughts, I was out of the tent and breaking camp as soon I could see well enough. "Its scary sleepin in a empty, unsecured state park, I'm outta here." The wind was menacing, but not as bad as the day before. I rolled my tent and bag in almost record time. I set the GPS in the cradle, and reset Trip meter B, gas was ok, "I'm good for 75 miles." It was cold, but sunny. I was about to turn the key when I thought back to the new battery I had just placed in the 1200 before leaving out. The old was still working, but weak. I patted myself on the back, because the cold night might very well had been enough to kill the battery, and at this moment I'd be wondering if it was going to turn over or not. "Being disabled right here and now would really suck," but as it was, I was confident the new battery would turn the RT over with minimum effort, and it did. The BMW sprang to life, and I toed down to first. "Get me outta here before my luck runs out", what a miserable night last night was. I hadn't shaved and it bothered me. I like slick face and smooth, so does Debbie, my son is another matter. On weekends he won't touch a razor. I guess I'm this way because of the fire department. I brought up "Fort Union National Monument" from the Zumo database and asked it to take me there. "This oughta be interesting, no telling what kinda road I'm gonna go on." I went back to SR 434 and doubled back the way I came in last night. The countryside seemed much more friendly in the morning sun. Heated seat and grips were blazing to ward off the chilly Rocky Mountain air. "No more cold mornings after today! I'll be out of the mountains shortly". The landscape was scenic and tranquil as the RT and I floated quietly past farms, meadows, and pastures. The heated seat felt so good I was reluctant to get off it to take a few pictures. I did anyway because I knew I'd regret failing to document this fine morning.
Gualdalupita was beginning to wake up when I came through, a village of a few houses, churches and a cemetery. I waved at a couple of children at their bus stop, and a mile later met the almost empty bus that was on their way to pick them up. In this area a kid can have a long bus ride to school. It was a pleasant 16 mile ride into Mora despite the cold temps, what were warming up quickly in the bright sun. Today I was looking to visit Fort Union, overnight east of the Oklahoma Panhandle, watch the ballgame, and into the Ozarks the following day. Nothing was going on in Mora so I kept riding. I wanted to stop for a snack but saw no place open to do that. I was instructed to turn on SR 161, and was glad. This is a great road with nice turns and scenery, it brings a rider down out of the mountains, dropping him off on the Great Plains. I rounded a long pass and layed out before was the Great Plains. Temps shot up as I came down in elevation. Funny, on the west side of the mountains lots of desert but on the east side I had meadows with tall grass.
I turned off the heated stuff and brought the screen down to feel the warm air move around me. The wind was still wicked but it was at my back.
Another bar dropped of the gas gauge and I was slightly concerned. I saw a Hispanic rancher getting out of his truck to open a gate. His cream color cowboy hat noticeable from far away. I pulled in along side, "Senor, where's the nearest el gaso from here?" "Long way, long way" "dang, ok." I was only a few miles from Fort Union, "the fort is next to I-25, they'll be some el gaso there," so I wasn't worried that much. The road crossed the Old Santa Fe Trail and one time the Zumo even tried to put me on it. "Somebody needs to tell Garmin the Santa Fe Trail is no longer a viable road." I could see the fort in the distance, and the old trail would definitely be shorter-if I was in a covered wagon, and not on a super sport, touring motorcycle.
After crossing over I-25 a long ride followed past a few houses and vast ranch land up to the fort. Fort Union was erected to protect settlers from raiding Indians, and to bring order to a otherwise wild west. It served that purpose very well in several incarnations over the years.
I rode in the parking lot, paid a modest fee, and browsed the museum before going out to see the ruins. I grew up on Westerns and over the years I've enjoyed visiting the things I use to see in the movies, TV or read about.
At its height several hundred soldiers and cavalrymen were posted here, and according to the self guided tour, life was not easy. Only skeletons remain of the old buildings, but they give a idea of what it was like.
The tour took over a hour. It was fun. Before leaving I called Debbie, but it was hard to talk above the wind. "I can't hear ya baby, I'll ya when I stop for lunch." "Ok, becareful," "I will."
I left the park on I-25 North and rode to the next exit, about 25 miles away. A sign read, "watch for gusty winds." "Yeah, no kididng," as I watched a south bound rider or 2 struggle in the tough wind. Once again it was at my back. By now the gas situation was getting serious, as the reserve light came on. I've been as far as 75 miles with the light on. "Better be some gas in Wagon Mound." I need hot have feared as the tired old town had 2 gas stations/con stores, they sat on opposite corners. I chose the 66 station for no other reason then it was on my left. I gassed up the RT, and went inside for beef jerky and Mountain Dew. The wind whipped through town like a tornado. The station was staffed (owned?) by a Native American, but I don't know what tribe. We chatted for a minute at counter, but the conservation was bland. I took my beef jerky and drink to the north wall of the building to get out of the wind. "reckon this will be lunch," The fort took almost 2 hours and I was running a little behind, which I seemed to be doing a lot this tour. On this day I wanted to get off the road early, check in a motel, wash clothes, eat a good supper, and watch the Packer-Viking game. While I was eating I saw a HD rider on a cruiser pull in for some gas. He noticed me, and after filling up came over to chat. "Man that wind is tough" "you must be south bound" "yeah, you?" Well I was goin north but turning west now, I'm leaving 25 for Oklahoma" The rider was from Colorado but I forgot where he was headed to. He did say he'd been riding more horses then bikes lately. I was just about to leave when 2 pick up trucks from Texas pulled in. One had a huge elk head in the bed, and a smaller deer. I jumped up- "Atta boy! Kill'em all!" The driver, a tall man's man responded, "That's right! 2 less y'all gotta worry about, these jokers are goin on MY wall, their days of being dangerous are over." I was delighted, deer have killed several riders from in the Long Riding community this year, including a Alabama man, and member of the ST forum last week on his way home from work. "You boys did good, here lemme buy ya'll a beer for later."
I went inside with them, "pick something out." "You ain't gotta do this." "I know but I want to, that elk was huge, having him off the road is a blessing, he was gonna kill some long rider eventually." The younger man was the nephew, and followed along behind us. Each pulled a Budweiser, "no get a 6 pack, and have fun at the motel tonight." "Ok thanks!" " This is not just from me, but from all Long Riders, that travel these highways. Ring these boys up!" "Thanks, ever pass through the Houston area let me know." I'll keep that in mind," as I gave him my card. "The Bamarider," he said in a Texas drawl as he looked at my card. "Have a safe ride." "Y'all to" It was fun, but I had to get back on the road. On the way out I saw the rock formation that gave the town its name. I put my Iphone on charge, and got going.
From Wagon Mound I took SR 120 a long, captivating road to U.S. 412. I say that because the road just seemed to keep my attention. It had long run outs that ended suddenly in a 45 degree turn, the land was barren, nothing see. Just miles of empty grassland. On 120 the gusty wind now became a sometime crosswind. It buffeted me from side to side. It was not as bad as the other day, but bad enough. Soon the road crossed the Canadian River. "Now why would they name a road this far South in honor of Canada? Surely the headwaters are not in Canada?" The highway began dropping in elevation and the curves picked up. I bumped the ESA to sport, and proceeded to lean. Down I went surrounded by canyon walls. It was excellent riding, and a great surprise. I wasn't expecting any leaning on this road. When I could, I glanced over the guardrail at the river below. "Nice, this road might go on the favorite list." The wind died down in the canyon, a welcome respite.
When I came out of the canyon, I could see the Rocky Mountains to my left, perhaps 60 miles away, they were beautiful. Nothing like the Rockies on the horizon, but 120 is a lonely road, for 30 miles I didn't see a car in either direction or a single house. Just me and the wind. Sometimes my mind wandered to far off places from previous rides, and sometimes it took me to thoughts of good and bad times of the past, and last but not least, I sometimes had to focus on the task at hand in the tough wind. "But Guy, don't you get tired of riding alone," some say, and I can only respond, "no," I'm a loner, it is who I am. I don't mind people, I enjoy the social side of all things, but on a motorcycle, I'm a loner. If you really want to connect to yourself, take a ride on a road like 120, and do it on a long tour. Hours and hours, and miles and miles of nothing but you and the open road, broken up only by the chance meeting with some stranger in a place like Wagon Mound. The last 30 miles of 120 the road was terrible, it beat me down so much I thought my spine went out of line. That in combination with the wind, wore me down. At U.S. 412, I turned east hoping I could pick up more of a tailwind but that was not the case, the wind was coming out of the south now and it continued to pound me. My initial goal for the day was Watonga, Oklahoma, but "not gonna make it, I'm gonna stop in Clayton and see what the options are. First thing of significance in the Panhandle, I'm gonna call it a day." In Clayton I decided on DQ and a vanilla cone. It would make my chapped lips feel better besides being different. The wind was blowing things everywhere, as it has throughout the Southwest last few days. It had been dogging me since Arizona. I brought my atlas in to look the situation over, a atlas is way better then a GPS at the big picture. "There, Guymon looks like a good stopping point." It is located halfway across the Panhandle, and with a name like "Guymon" it has to be good." With that settled I watched the wind blow a car full of tourist across the parking lot. Hats, papers etc took off as the 4 of them tried for the DQ, the old folks made it, but not with everything they left the car with. I called Debbie and returned a few voice mails, texts, and emails. When I'm on the road several of my friends like to keep up with what's going on. Plus frequent check ins are prudent for a guy riding alone. I like for folks to know where I'm at, where I'm going, and when to expect to hear from me next. Guymon is at least 2 hours away, and my plan was to ride it non stop. Garmin put my time of arrival about 5pm, I wanted to get off the road at 3, but that would make too long a ride tomorrow, I needed to put some more miles down. I accomplished that, but it wasn't easy. Wind and construction zones really tired me. There was no scenery to speak off, just ride and ride. The wind shifted from tail to cross, and I started to feel punch drunk. At last I made it to Guymon and noted the local Wal Mart when I came into town for later. The sign said turn here for the Super 8, they had a special "truckers rate," that we all know means nothing, anyone is eligible for it. The main thing was the motel HAD to have ESPN I coasted to a stop in front of the lobby, paid my fee for a ground floor room then unloaded the RT using the cart to bring all my gear in. I went back out and cleaned the screen, inspected the tires, and checked the oil. It was halfway, "that light comes on whenever its anything less then full window, and I'm tired at looking at that warning icon on my display, that and the headlight out warning is driving me crazy. I'm gonna top that baby off just to shut that light up, but I don't have any BMW oil." The RT calls for thick 20w 50 oil in these temps. I was sure I wasn't going to be able to find that locally, but would try. I rode 327 miles today, but it seemed much further. I bought a snack from the vending machine, then flopped out on the bed. I called Debbie and my son. "yeah done for the day, tired, wind wore me down. My first move is gonna be a shower and a shave, then I dunno." "ok you sound tired." "I am a little, I'll call back when I go to bed k?" The shower /bath and shave really perked me up. I soaked my body for 30 minutes and almost fell asleep. It felt good to be cleaned shaven and fresh when I stepped out. Next I went back to the Wal Mart I saw on the way in. I looked for 20W 50 but had no luck, so I went with 10w 40. "I only need a few ounces, it should be ok, I just wanna turn that dang icon off." I also bought a box of Twizzlers. I hate Wal Mart because I can't find stuff, but at least you know they have it. I put several ounces in before leaving, and when I cranked up the annoying icon was off. "Now if I could just find a headlamp bulb." I had spoken to Uncle Phil before leaving for this tour, and he said his recent West Coast ride was full of equipment failures. Heated gear, fuel pump, and bike communication stuff. He told me he had 2 other bikes on the ride with him, and all 3 Auto Com units failed before the ride even got going good. He called them when he returned and asked if the joker that designed the unit knew anything about long riding. So I didn't feel so bad about my failed low beam. From there I went across the street and filled up. Then I had to figure out what I wanted to eat. It needed to be something fast because the game started in 30 minutes. I was back on Central time so all my clocks jived with home. Just a few minutes from the motel I spotted a Chinese buffet. Again I handled the dipping spoons with a paper towel. The food was pretty good, and a young attractive Asian girl kept my coke glass full. One thing about Chinese or Mexican you get unwavering service. I asked the young lady where in China she was from. She told me but I couldn't begin to pronounce it or write it. "So how long ya been in Oklahoma?" "1 year" "Well how ya reckon ya like it?" ho-k, ho-k, but sometime hot, you not from here?" "nooo noooo sweetie, I'm just passing through" I would have said Alabama, but was not sure that would mean anything to her, but then again she could have surprised me. Her English was not the best, so I tried to let the conversation go, but she persisted. "you ride motorcycle?," as she gestured like she was holding on to handlebars. "yes, yes, come long way." I laughed, "dang I'm startin to talk like you." It was interesting but I wanted to watch the ballgame. My fortune cookie failed to inform who was going to win. I sent a few text messages and returned to the motel. I was in the lobby and a truck driver asked, "long day?" "yeah it was, wind was awful, but gonna relax now." I was just hoping I could stay awake after no sleep the night before. The Packers lost, and never in the game. You can't beat many people if you don't protect the quarterback, Rogers ran for his life all night. It was hard to watch, I clicked over to the news with 8 minutes left in the game. There was rain in Arkansas, not far from the Ozarks. The weather guessers also said it would be cloudy, but it wasn't going to be cold. Cool, but not cold, typical fall weather. I anticipated a long ride across Oklahoma. I was almost asleep when Debbie called. "I thought you were gonna call me back?" "I was but the ballgame was on, and then I fell asleep. This bed feels good after 4 nights in a tent." "Just checking, call me in the morning ok? I know you usually stop about 9 or 10." After all these years she knows the routine. I went back to sleep thinking of the upcoming Blue Ridge Gathering. Tomorrow I'll be in the Ozarks. Next- across Oklahoma to the Ozarks.
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