Day one: El Paso to the New Mexico desert
After stopping for coffee and a doughnut, getting out of El Paso went smoothly, despite being on a busy road lined with strip malls for most of it. A cop car was lingering in the next lane for a bit, then blasted “Bicycle Race” through their loudspeaker and zoomed off, which I didn’t know what to make of. Once I got to the country roads I was alternately ecstatic and wondering what the fuck I was doing (a common internal refrain).
Not long after getting to New Mexico highway 9, I started seeing signs of a storm on the horizon, but figured it would stay south of me. It was beautiful to watch build, but I was wrong about it staying south. The wind started picking up, then sand started blowing, and—though it feels too spot-on to be true—a tumbleweed blew past. I was only managing 4-5 mph at some points, and struggling to stay on the road.
After a couple short breaks where I tried to talk myself into continuing for the full 45 miles I had planned for the day, I stopped at 38 miles and found a tiny berm that provided a few square feet of shelter from the wind and decided to set up camp there. I ended up trying three different positions for the tent before finding the least windy option.
All night I was trying to get used to the sounds of the tent walls blowing in the wind—turns out they sound exactly like a ne’er-do-well’s footsteps right next to me—and listening to each passing car to make sure I heard the sound of it continuing down the highway and not stopping to see what I was up to. Again, what the fuck was I even doing out here.
Day two: Pit stop in Columbus
I was thrilled to see the sun in the morning, out from the shadow of dust the evening before. Took the time to make coffee and a hot breakfast and felt only slightly in over my head. I had a sluggish ride to Columbus, New Mexico, where I fittingly got a hatch chile burger from Borderland Cafe and refilled my water at the convenience store.
The wind picked up again during lunch, but a storm that I had been seeing really did blow away from me this time.
I had looked up Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land while in cell range, which is theoretically okay to camp on, but when I got to that area there were signs saying “do not disturb.” The wind had picked up again and I was reaching a long stretch of privately-owned land, so I found a spot much more tucked away this time. I figured I wasn’t really disturbing anything and checked that I was only barely visible from the highway.
I’m sure Border Patrol knew where I was. This part of the highway is only a few miles from the US–Mexico border and their pickup trucks with a thick diagonal green stripe were buzzing up and down the highway at all hours. One of their helicopters seemed to be checking me out earlier that day.
Day three: Snow on my way to Hachita
The snow started overnight. I woke up to a snow-covered tent and an icy bicycle. The sun was out in the morning, though, so I was feeling hopeful that the storm I had heard about had passed through early, even if it was still cold. I collected some of the snow to top-up my water bottles, set up my bike to thaw in the sun, and decided to skip making a hot breakfast when the wind picked up.
Then I noticed my back tire was flat. I had a flat in El Paso which seemed to be from the brake pad rubbing against the sidewall, but I thought I had fixed the issue. Hoping it was a slow leak that I could deal with later, I refilled the tire with air and started riding.
The first part of my ride was beautiful! I’ve been in awe of all the small but distinctive mountain ranges throughout the region, and the snow highlighted their crevices and contrasted with the lowlands.
A couple drove up next to me and asked if I needed any water or food. I later regretted not asking if they might have some coffee and they wished me well, with the parting words: enjoy the wind. This breeze was nothing compared to the other day, I thought. Then I saw the storm clouds again.
Thinking myself an expert in anticipating the trajectory of storms at this point (I was 1 for 2), I convinced myself that—as with yesterday—these would stay out of my path. When it became clear that was wishful thinking, I looked at the clouds again and judged that the storm would continue on a diagonal and wasn’t that wide anyway, so I would miss the worst of it.
Unfortunately I’m not a storm expert, and was hit with blowing snow and no end in sight. I took some solace in it being a snow storm and not rain, since snow wouldn’t soak my clothes as quickly.
I didn’t think long about the idea of stopping, since there wasn’t really any cover and eventually there would be an end. That end came shortly after concerns that my cheeks were going to be frostbitten beyond repair, and just before reaching Hachita—which, while I didn’t think there would be any establishments, I knew would at least have a building I could take shelter behind.
I fell off my bike when I got to the Hachita Community Center. I was so excited that the snow had stopped and that I had found a building to block the wind that I forgot about my toe clips and toppled to the side when I couldn’t get my foot out. A semi-truck driver who was parked there totally saw it happen.
After pacing back and forth trying to figure out my next move, I was compelled to try the door to the community center even though the lights were off. Turned out it was open and there was a guy named Bill inside who told me it was a sort of hostel for bicyclist. “I’m a bicyclist!” I told him, and didn’t ask too many more questions before bringing my bike inside.
There was no heat in the building, and no shower, but a kitchen and bathroom and two cots on a carpeted stage. Down the block was a convenience store that a guy named Jeff runs in addition to the community center, and who is an avid biker.
I had a microwave burrito from the convenience store for dinner, then a hot pocket, paid Jeff $10 for the night and went to bed cold, but out of the elements. I woke up to no running water, a fully flat back tire, and the promise of free coffee from the convenience store.
