"Don't fall"

Our first day on the bikes was everything I expected, we even got to call 911 from the top of LaVeta Pass in a snowstorm.

As I write this, my brain is playing the Paul Simon song that goes:

"One and one-half wandering Jews.
Free to wander wherever they choose.
Are traveling together in the Sangre de Cristos.
The 'Blood of Christ' mountains of New Mexico."

After the late arrival we slept until 8:30, ate breakfast, offloaded the bikes and returned the trailer.  Back at the hotel, there was about an hour of loading the bikes.  We posed for pictures and hit the road on I-25 southbound through Colorado Springs.

The sky was low and steel grey and the forecast was damp, so we had suited up in rain gear.  We rode through occasional intermittent showers, nothing to shake our resolve.  At Walsenburg CO we turned west to head up the mountains.  As we gained altitude, the rain became steady and the temperature fell.  About 8500 feet the rain became sleet then a slushy snow.  At the crest of LaVeta Pass, the road was coated with about an inch or two of wet slush.  My heavy Harley felt steady under me, Marty's much lighter Kawasaki sport bike wasn't quite as surefooted.

We could both tell that our bikes had been robbed of power by the thin air, heavy loads, and steep grade.  All the same, more power might not have been such a good thing.  Just past the crest at 9700 feet, we came upon an accident scene and pulled over to help.  A Honda Passport was lying wheels down at the bottom of a steep 30 foot embankment.  Midway down, you could see twin birch trunks four inches thick had been snapped like twigs. The accident had just happened moments before and neither the driver - who was surprisingly unhurt - nor others who stopped were getting cell phone service.  Marty checked his phone and had four bars from AT&T!  He dialed 911 and help was on the way.


The funniest moment of the day was when Marty asked the driver "We're on the trip of a lifetime, do you mind if I take your picture?"


At the next town, we took a break to dry ourselves off and add extra layers.  Marty got out the bubble wand.

We continued southwestward on two lane roads into New Mexico.  The majestic Sangre de Cristo range towered on our left side and scrub chaparral sprawled to the west.  Signs warned us to watch out for horses in the road and, sure enough, we had to slow to pass through a herd of about fifteen. Other signs warned us to look out for elk, but we didn't spot any. We passed through Taos where every building is made to look like an adobe pueblo.  When I say every building, I mean banks, car washes, everything.  Hmmm.

The best motorcycle riding of the day was just south of Taos as we descended toward Los Alamos in the narrow winding canyon of the Rio Grande. We let the ponies run.

We were chilled to the bone after a cool and wet day, so we canned the original plan to camp at Bandelier National Monument.  We arrived in Santa Fe after dark and found a room at the DoubleTree.