21 September 2011
I wanted an earlier start than I got; my chosen route to Silver City
was projected at just over 500 miles, some of them twisty. But it was
0845 before I managed to pull out of the parking lot and make my way
through the road construction, heading west.
It was a bit chilly to start; the skies were clear and the sun bright
behind me as I rolled through a couple of Panhandle towns, stopping for
fuel in Muleshoe.
Remembering yesterday's lesson, rather than taking US70 up to Farwell
and Clovis, I opted for FM1760 straight west to pick up 70 again, north
of Portales. Even though the speed limit dropped from Texas's 70 to a
more leisurely 60 once I crossed into New Mexico, I saved many minutes
and lots of frustration
negotiating the lousy roads and traffic in Clovis.
My route had me bypassing Roswell, which wouldn't normally be a
problem, except I wasn't sure where the next fuel would be. I debating
running in far enough to get some, but then figured I hadn't had any
fuel 'adventures' yet this trip, so continued on. Through Picacho
(nothing), Hondo (nope), and a decision point: north on 380, or
continue south on 70. Tails said 70, the RTE gauge said I might make it
to Ruidoso, so south it was.
The route was one of the prettiest of the trip: the air was crystal
clear, temperature in the mid-70s, good road surface, with just enough
curves and altitude changes to keep it interesting. And when I finally
got gas in Ruidoso, after almost 200 miles, the tank took less than my
previous fillup in Muleshoe. Magic.
After Alamagordo, 70 might as well be an interstate: divided, straight
and boring. But the 70 mph speed limit rolled the miles by.
Until I saw a sign for the White Sands National Monument, and when I
got to it, the visitor center was right next to the road. Bopped in and
scored a stamp, a nice bonus for taking the southern route.
Then a 50 mile run up I-25 to SR152. After I'd been on it a couple of
miles, I happened to glance down at the trip meter, which told me I had
more miles on that tank of gas than I'd realized. A quick check of the GPS wasn't reassuring; although the number looked good,
that's 'crow flies' distance, and 152 is a snake. Worrying about gas
somewhat tempered my enjoyment of 152, which I recommend to anyone
riding in the area. One warning: the speed limits tend to be low (much
of it is in the Gila National Forest, and some on Indian reservation)
so some caution is in order.
Still worried about gas, when I saw the turnoff for Mimbres, I decided
a bit of a detour would be worth the peace of mind. Only 87 octane,
pre-pay, so I put in $5 worth and headed for Silver City, where I
filled up the rest of the way.
Now to find Sackett's house. Ha! Garmin doesn't know this part of the
country at all. One GPS wants me to turn too early, then both take me
down 180 and through a little loop, then back toward Silver City.
Finally, I get to a road both agree should take me there, and I'm off.
It's a dirt road of uncertain provenance, twisting up and around though
the hills. After about four miles, both GPSs give up and just sit
there. So do I. Nothing for it but to head back out to 180, where I
finally call Dick and ask. Through the lousy connection, he tells me
where to turn off (which is actually where I had turned) and how to go.
Since I'd already tried that, I waited for him to come back from where
he'd been chasing me (thinking I'd gone farther west than I had), and
he escorted me two miles up the road I'd traveled earlier, but turned
left up into his driveway at a point where I'd turned right. (As it
happens, neither Garmin nor Google knows where he lives, both have him
on a non-existent road two miles west.)
Parked the bike in his shop, went in to a chicken fried steak dinner,
topped by homemade apple pie. Heaven!
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