Galisteo Basin Preserve, Santa Fe, New Mexico.
April 2, 2012
Once winter gives way to spring in Santa Fe, an abundance of mountain biking trails reveal themselves beneath the receding snowmelt. Winter-lost trails hidden from view, but visible all the time to those who await them.
Most evenings I’ve been heading up to the Dale Ball network, a sprawl of rocky, switchbacky loops that cling to the surrounding hills, and are linked by a short, leg-warming ride from downtown. Even closer to hand there’s La Tierra, a mellow collection of desert trails that weave their way between tight alleyways of piñon and junipers. I’ve yet to explore the higher elevation areas – the likes of the Windsor Trail – rideable when the snows have melted in the upper reaches of the neighbouring national forest, and the mud has dried out.
15 miles away lies Gallisteo Basin Preserve, known for its early season riding potential. The scope there is relatively limited for now, but plans are afoot to develop up to 50 miles of trails in the area. It’s well marked, with numbered juntion posts and a downloadable map available here to print – or download into your smart phone or itouch.
Transport-wise, I haven’t quite fathomed the timings of the free commuter bus yet, which shuttles between nearby El Dorado and Sante Fe. But you can always bike out there along the Rail Trail bike path for more of a workout, and it would be a great place to wild camp too.
A few photos from our Sunday ride…
It's only when you climb up to a viewpoint - like Happy Valley - that you appreciate Santa Fe's position, cupped between mountain, forest and high desert plains.
The trails at Galisteo Basin Preserve are mellow and easy going. You can make an out and back along a ridgetop, or drop down amongst the jeep tracks below.
Various optional rocky spurs encourage beginners to hone some desert riding skills.
Red dirt and a blue sky. A perfect combo.
The trails meander through pinons and junipers, hiking steeply out of aroyos - dry river beds - that typify the New Mexican high desert.
Desert rat riding. Me likes (-:
This is another retro post, catching up on past adventures from last month…
It’s all too easy to become hooked on dirt road touring in New Mexico. Perhaps it’s those embracing skies of the American South West. That overwhelming notion of space. The shapes and colours and hues of junipers and piñon and cacti. The frontier history.
My last multi-day ride here was shared with Gary Blackley, who I first met in Del Norte, southern Colorado. He and his partner Patti have long invited Great Divide riders into their home, to relax and rest up before tackling the 11910 ft Indiana Pass, lying just beyond their doorstop. Which was exactly what I did, as one of the last riders to roll through in 2011.
Gary and I hit it off straight away, so I was pleased when we found time to put together a short tour. The warmer climes of southern New Mexico would be a welcome escape from the chilly north and it was bound to be a big ride, covering larger distances than I’m used to. Del Norte is all but snowbound til spring, yet despite excuses of under-exercised ’winter legs’, I knew Gary would be all to eager to make the most of the short winter days. And, as he’s been honing his lightweight setup over the years, it was also a chance to glean some nuggets of lean touring wisdom.
Aside from traversing remote, beautiful terrain, our loop encompassed a blend of colonial, Native American, frontier and world history. It circled south-east around the Apache stomping-ground of Ladrón Peak. Then it passed the Very Large Array – the giant antennas that tirelessly probe the furthest reaches of deep space – before skirting around the San Mateo Mountains, home to ghost towns and mines of yesteryear.
From the improbably titled Truth of Consequences, we returned north on the east side of the Rio Grande, experiencing a different perspective of the mountains around which we’d travelled, and a taste of real desert riding.
The ride back paralleled a section of the ‘Jornada del Muerto’ – the Route of the Dead Man. This swathe of desert was so named by 17th century conquistadores in reference to its inhospitable, lava-encrusted terrain, and formed one of the most challenging parts of the Camino Real de Tierra Adentro. The ‘Royal Road’, 1600 mile in length, once ran from Espanola, north of Santa Fe, all the way to Mexico City, helping trade and spreading Christianity.
Just to add variety to our route, we rounded off our return by skirted along the very fringes of the White Sands Missile Range, notorious for the Trinity Site, where the first atomic bomb was tested in 1945.
So, in many ways, a historical slice of New Mexico.
The loop involved public transport in and out of Albuquerque. Along with Gary's partner Patti, we took the Railrunner down to Belen - at a cost of just $2 per person.
Patti joined us for the 20 mile ride to Bernardo, along quiet backcountry lanes, before she headed back to Albuquerque by road. This 19th mission lies in La Vega de las Nutrias - the meadow of beavers - a stopping point for caravans along the Camino Real in the 17th century.
From Bernado we hit dirt, enjoying views towards Pico Ladrón. The peak itself is is part of small range known as the Sierra Ladrones - the mountain of thieves. It's named after the Apache raiding parties, and later Anglo and Hispanic cattle rustlers, who hid amongst its folds.
My steed, perfect for loping across cowboy country... A framepack keeps weight centred on the Surly Ogre, combined with a seat pack and bar bag to carry gear and a couple of days of food. There's water on one side of the fork leg and my tarp on the other.
County Road 12. Like a whippet chasing a rabbit, there was no catching Gary once he got rolling... Conditions were better than we were expecting and we made quick progress round the mountain. Changes in vegetation were clues to our increase in elevation, as cholla cacti gave way to piñon and junipers.
We carried a GPS and relevant mapping for the area. In hindsight, setting up a gpx route would have been worthwhile, as there were more junctions than appeared on our paper map.
After 50 miles of dirt we reached Magdalena, arriving just before sundown. A table at the local supermarket provided the perfect spot for dinner, before we found ourselves a home behind the library for the night.
Crossing one of the railway lines of the Very Large Array, along which the antennas can be positioned. These railway lines form a Y shape, each segment reaching 13 miles into the desert. The data from the antennas is combined to give the resolution of an antenna 22 miles across, all the better for probing the nooks and crannies of deep space.
The Plains of San Angustin, lying within the Mogollon-Datil volcanic field. Beautifully bleak.
Having consulted the weather forecast, we were expecting some help from a northerly wind. But it was not to be. A storm was brewing and it took 3 hours to cover just 20 miles. This was the only windbreak... We stopped for a few minutes, before returning to the crawl and our inner thoughts.
Eventually, after seeking refuge under the awning of a farm building for lunch, our road swivelled round in direction. From here, we were merely buffeted from the side as we skirted around the Magdalena and San Mateo ranges. It was here that the Apache Kid, the legendary renegade army scout, is said to have been hunted down and killed in 1894.
On the road to Dusty, a blink-and-you-miss-it settlement marked only by an old cemetery and some scattered ranches.
A suguaro-themed postbox. I'm not sure how often the postman makes it out here...
Looking towards Montoya Butte and into Monticello Box Canyon. A possible through route with a hike and bike?
Headed to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show, California.
February 24, 2012
Just a short post to say I’m headed to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. This year it’s being held in Sacramento, California, from March 2-4. To those who aren’t familiar with this event, it’s the time when custom framebuilders emerge from their darkened, winter workshops all around the US, to showcase and flaunt their wares. And, it’s an opportunity for Joe Public to ogle some truly beautiful, creative pieces of functional art.
I’ll be covering the event for the UK’s Singletrack magazine, and posting on this blog too.
I plan to camp somewhere in Sacramento, unless anyone can offer me some floorspace (-; My hope is then to travel down to LA (and fly back to South America), in case anyone is up for a ride.
As for getting there, I’ll be carsharing west from Albuquerque, New Mexico, stopping off in Death Valley National Park for a few days of dirt touring en route. If anyone is headed to the show and can help out, please let me know!
Back on the move... (photo Gary Blakley)
I ♥ New Mexico: Silver City to the Very Large Array
February 17, 2012
As much as I try and savour each and every moment, it’s inevitable that over this long journey, individual sights, sounds and experiences are sometimes lost in the blur of daily motion and change. They queue up in days so jam packed with stimuli it can be hard to retain all the details. Memories clump together. The brain buffer’s full.
But then, generally when I least expect it, I stumble across a nook of the world that really stands out. Something seems to resonate. Perhaps it’s a sense of connection, a deeper appreciation of the lanscape. The people I meet. Shared interests and ideas. Or maybe it’s just the right time, when I’m looking to pause, rest and lay down some roots, as short term as they may be.
Silver City, set at the foot of the vast, unspoilt, impregnable wilderness of the Gila in southern New Mexico, feels like such a place. When I was last travelling through – as part of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route in 2009 – I managed to while away almost a week here, and it was with a definite reluctance that I continued on my way.
In fact, I’d barely arrived in Silver before I was pointed towards the residence known in local circles as the Bike House. Which is exactly what it was: a house crammed with all manner of bicycles. Leant against gates. Scratching wall paint. Hanging from rafters. Old and new, fancy and plain. All well used.
Of course, the Bike House was made up of a rich tapestry of other occupants too; a tide of people to-ing and fro-ing through unlocked doors, a larger-than-life collection of giant puppets, raucus chickens, as well as various other animals that came and went as they pleased… Its owner, Jamie, is well known for scooping up nomadic, long distance tourers and offering them a place to rest and recharge in his eclectic, rabbit’s warren of a houseshare. Coupled with a mellow downtown, all-year riding potential and an earthy, unpretentious New Mexican hipness, the whole Silver City experience earned it a spot amongst my favourite spots of the South West, and a highlight of the Great Divide.
So I was pleased that our long drive back back to Santa Fe from Big Bend State Park Ranch offered the chance to spend another night in the esoteric Bike House. True to its reputation, bikes were still sprawled out across the yard with well-practised abandon; old mtbs, a singlespeed 29er, an Extracycle, rusty Schwinns, a BMX or two… The door was still unlocked and the place as much as a shambles as I so warmly recalled. As we stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene, a cocophonic thump shook the house. Overhead, marching band practise was in full swing, with children and adults alike squeezed in amongst gaudy paper mache figurines. It was the genuine Bike House Experience.
It didn’t take more than a birthday ride around the sweet trails of Little Walnut and Gomez Peak to remind myself why I had felt such a connection here and what had brought me back. And although I didn’t have time to linger as long this time, I’d soon hatched a plan to abandon the car, and relive some of the Gila Wilderness…
Silver City is surrounded by prime riding, even in the midst of winter. I stripped down the Ogre of its bikepacking gear and set off with Nancy to explore the singletrack around Little Walnut. This was followed up with a ride around Boston Hill with tireless Jamie, and a dirt and gravel road outing with Andrew, Chris and Martin. There is little to beat local rides with enthusiastic bikers, and as a visitor, I always feel honoured to be invited into the fold to share these experiences.
My bed in the Bike (and Giant Puppet) House.
Gila Hike and Bike is surely one of my favourite bike shops, with its laid back, down to earth vibe. A demo Pugsley fatbike was available for a spin, which fit Nancy perfectly. I've always hankered after an 'Omniterra'. I just need to live in the kind of terrain that warrants one... Or maybe everywhere does...
My father's love of Westerns and frontier history must have rubbed off, for I find myself fascinated by Silver City and the surrounding area. Its past abounds with colourful characters. Like Lottie Deno - short for dinero, the Spanish for money - who owned a gambling hall in nearby Georgetown. Said to be well educated and impeccably dressed, she earned a fortune gambling in the rough, cash-flush pioneer towns of New Mexico. Billy the Kid's stepfather also had a restaurant there, and his early midsadventures are part of local legend.
The classic New Mexican backyard, complete with discarded junk, reinvented school bus and sawn-off trailer.
Turning off onto FR150 for some sublime riding through the Gila, designated a protected wilderness area as early as 1924. It was early in the season to be riding at this high altitude, so I flagged down a weatherbeaten pickup truck to check road conditions ahead. The pony-tailed old timer who pulled over had clearly been enjoying a few beers after a hot afternoon's wood chopping. Lifting his dusty wraparound shades to reveal bloodshot eyes, he enthused about the Gila, suggesting a few good camping spots. 'Listen to the spirits, that's what I always too', he said, chuckling a thick, husky smoker's laugh.
Camping out in Geronimo's stomping ground, amongst skeletal cottonwoods. My soundtrack was the warbly call of coyotes, and a dozen wild horses snuffled their way over in the night, gathering inquisitively as I cooked up my dinner. Just that day before I'd seen a group of wild, snorting havelinas. Or rather smelt them first - they're also known as skunk pigs, for good reason.
Tree trunk, elephant hoof, or simply a good spot to lean a bike...
Chilly! That night, my water bottles froze solid, even inside the tarp. The downside of the palatial Megalite is that it's size doesn't encourage trapped air to stay warm. I sat and toasted myself in the first rays of sunlight, as they slipped across the plains towards the tent.
Technically, it's a little early in the season for this ride... A storm the month before had closed off a portion of the road to all but the hardiest vehicles, though a bicycle could still slither its way through.
I took an impressive tumble on this particularly icy stretch, bike and body sliding some ways down the hill with little grace but thankfully few bruises.
Once beyond Beaverhead Works station, conditions dried out once more. From this point, I detoured off the Great Divide Route, heading north east towards Albuquerque through Railroad Canyon.
Mmmm...
Although I planned to tackled this 150 mile dirt road ride in a couple of days, I carried extra provisions and layers as I was unsure as to where I might end up. With my laptop on board too, it was a good chance to try out the Ogre with a set of borrowed panniers, and see how it handled with a more traditional touring setup.
Country Road 163. Or to put it more romantically, a ribbon of dirt, disappearing into the quintessential, soft haze of the New Mexican horizon.
Chicaning amongst ponderosa pines.
A forlorn post box marks a dirt track to who knows where...
The plains of San Angustin. Luckily, a tailwind helped propel along 60 miles of dirt road.
This herd of antellope ran alongside me for some time. A curious group, they slowed down and ambled around when I stopped down to take a photo, running with me once more when I started to ride again. Despite moments of loneliness and hardship on solo rides, it's during these fleeting moments that the penny really drops: these experiences are exactly why I'm here.
Happy to be on the road, loping across the desert.
Conditions were mainly good, with a few rough stretches of washboard and sand to contend with. 29er wheels seem to help with both of these, and I didn't begrudge the lack of suspension on my bike.
There are many wonderful names in this part of the world, harking back to mining days and the pioneer towns of yesteryear.
My destination was the equally wondrous Very Large Array. And very large it was. Built from 1975-1980, the VLA is a radio astronomy observatory that's been probing the deeper reaches of space for the last thirty years. The centre is at almost 7000ft in altitude and set in an empty patch of high desert far, far from any sizeable settlement.
It's made up of a collection of 27 enormous antennas. I stood in awe as the dishes all begun to rotate in unison, in a slow, elegant ballet, pointing up inquisitively into the sky. A series of railway tracks form a Y shape - each arm reaching 13 miles into the desert - that allows them to be positioned in various configurations. An accompanying film explained how the centre has been instrumental in our understanding of black holes, pointing out that our own galaxy lies within a whole sea of other galaxies. Amplified by the solitude of the empty, windswept plains of San Angustin, and it's enough to make you feel pretty small...
The free self-guided tour allows you to wander right up to one of the dishes. The stats: 25 metres in diameter and 209 metric tonnes in weight. If they look familiar, it might be because the VLA's been used in the movie Contact, with Jodie Foster.
Is there anyone out there? After sunset, I pushed on to Datil, clocking almost a 100 miles that day - far more than I'd usually accrue on dirt roads. With a storm scheduled to barrel in the following morning, I pitched my tent for the night, before hitching hiking north the next day. Thanks kindly to Art and Phyllis for breakfast and the ride!
Some links:
Gila Hike and Bike – most excellent bikes, and most excellent service.
Very Large Array – be wide-eyed like Jodie Foster.
Lunar Exploration: Riding White Mesa, NM.
February 16, 2012
Returning to New Mexico has given me the chance to ride a couple of trails I heard about, but didn’t have time to explore before. Numero Uno on my wishlist was a classic local desert loop known as White Mesa, set in a bizarre, lunar-like landscape. It’s so named for the colour of the gypsum residue that reflects the sun in this mineral-rich, parched-dry area.
The trail is well marked, and there are various permutations to shrink or extend the ride. Our trip was a little forshortened when Nancy took a nasty, helmet-cracking, wheel-tacoing spill. Luckily, she lives to ride another day.
The trailhead is about 35 miles from Albuquerque, the last few of which are along a dusty dirt road off Highway 550. We drove out with a posse of riders, including Dallas, Amy, Woody, Mike and Bobbie. Although the loop itself is pretty short, you could use public transport and make a weekend of it, hopping on the Railrunner from Santa Fe ($6), or Albuquerque, and getting of in Bernalillo. This links up with the Bernalillo-Cuba shuttle bus ($2, inc bike), stopping off in the Zia Pueblo and San Ysidro Village, which is a couple of miles from the turnoff. Incidentally, I’m a big fan of the Railrunner, the train that runs between ABQ and Santa Fe. Although the timetable is a little restrictive – it’s aimed at commuters – it’s cheap, bike-friendly, and has free wifi!
As far as I’ve experienced, White Mesa is completely different from anything else in the area; it’s as unique as Utah, and definitely somewhere I’d like to explore further. There’s plenty more scope closer to ABQ, with bike lanes around town, and the local Foothills trail network within riding distance – not to mention some great road riding potential too. Plenty of route info can be found at Two Wheel Drive.
Thanks to the posse for their hospitality and for showing us around, particularly Dallas for prepping our bikes in his incredible, spick ‘n span workshop!
In Santa Fe the trails are caked by snow and mud. Head south 60 miles and drop a couple of thousand feet, and this is what you get.
New Mexico mountain biking at its best. The White Mesa loop is fast and flowing, with a few technical hurdles, some exposed ledges and a couple of grunty climbs.
Inter-planetary exploration.
Post-spill. Nancy back on the bike, front wheel trued back to life. We later found a second hand replacement - a Mavic 317 laced to a Specialized hub - for $30 at the excellent Broken Spoke in Santa Fe.
The trail is well signed, and can be ridden in either direction.
A short hike 'n bike earns some bonus singletrack and an off-the-saddle steep descent.
Amy, on her green-rimmed, Voodoo 29er. This is perfect big wheel country.
Riding the Dragon's Spine.
White Mesa was my first time out on the Ogre. Next time I'll bring my bikepacking gear - the area would make for some awesome camping and incredible starry nights.
Sweet singletrack on the way back to the trailhead.
Downtown Albuquerque. The largest city in New Mexico, ABQ is surprisingly bike friendly. The Paseo del Bosque runs from north to south of the metropolitan area, amongst the cottonwoods of the Rio Grande. There's plenty of singletrack to be unearthed along the river trails too, and quick access to the Cedro Peak National Forest.
Earthships and off-the-grid-dwellers, NM.
November 5, 2011
The high desert around Taos, New Mexico, is a vast and open expanse, intercut by the deep gash of the Rio Grande Gorge. It’s a desolate, volcanic landscape that hides ancient petroglyphs, hot springs and crumbling ruins.
In the last couple of decades, it’s also become the home to communities of off-the-grid-dwellers, sharing a new interpretation of the American Dream. Resembling fantastical sets from a post-apocalyptic Hollywood movie, their abodes work in synergy with the land, harnessing the forces of passive solar heating with traditional adobe building techniques, using foraged-for recycled materials, like tyres, bottles and aluminium cans.
At times, these dwellings are barely discernable above the desert sagebrush. Mole-like, their inhabitants have burrowed into the ground; escaping the summer heat, yet coddled by the warmth of the earth in the cold winter months.
A low and squat earthship, characterised by its series of large windows for passive solar heating. Thick walls provide thermal mass to regulate temperature.
Handcrafted, Gaudi-like curves, embedded with recycled bottles.
In harmony with nature, both practically and aesthetically. There's a sense of belonging to these homes.
Recycling techniques at the Earthship visitor centre; old tyres and aluminium cans are key materials in earthship construction.
Gateway to an alternative world.
This adobe dwelling on the outskirts of Arroyo Hondo looked like it might be home to a family of Jedi Knights.
Dotted amongst the desert around Tres Piedras were the shells of old school buses, their iconic yellow paintwork fading in the sun. This pickup seemed in good working order - most had their hoods ajar as if in open surgery.
Desert junk to some. Earthship-building materials to others.
A wall built from wine bottles, of which there seemed to be plenty.
An earthship peeping out above the high desert sagebrush.
Dobson House earthship, built 17 years ago, also doubled up as a beautiful B&B.
We'd have splurged and stayed there if we could, but it wasn't open to guests that night.
In the underground belly of Dobson House.
Here, scifi-style rooves provide insulation and help circulate air within.
Great setting too, in the shadow of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range.
Dirt roads linked the various communities around Taos. These areas are popular with all kinds: eccentrics, counter-culturalists, artists, creative thinkers, seekers of a more sustainable way of living, or simply those in search of desert solitude.
Yep, no shortage of a little peace and quiet around here.
Hiking down into the bowels of the gorge to the Rio Grande...
... where pools of thermal water await.
Early morning on the Taos Plateau. We camped out amongst the sagebrush, watching hot air ballons float up towards the ether. Their slow, gentle form of movement seemed in keeping with the silence of the surroundings. Perhaps one day everyone will travel by bicycle and live in earthships...
Links:
Earthship info.
Plan D has 2-4 week off-grid residencies this summer…
Treat yourself to a night in an earthship B&B, at Dobson House.
