Another day curtailed by dangerously strong cross winds that threatened to dump us on the black top at any moment. Managed to ride 114 miles before Mike Munk (tour leader) called a halt. One of the two Kiwi riders, Symon, took a heavy fall after getting his front wheel caught in a cattle grid and was taken to hospital to clean up his face and shoulder. Pictures of the battered and bruised All Black front row tomorrow! His helmet looks like a bite’s been taken out of it. Probs saved his life. Always wear one – you never know when you’re going to need it.
By the way we’re in the New Mexico Las Vegas not the Nevada one. Good job we realised before Sandy had booked Rose and I tickets to see Olivia Newton John in concert. Could’ve been an expensive taxi ride!
Talking of taxis…the old town here is the backdrop for the TV series Longmire (even though it’s set in Wyoming – go figure) so Rose wanted a look around. Only one problem: our hotel is some way out and there are no taxis (and don’t say why didn’t you ride in). So the hotel manager, Barbie, ran us into town in her bright green car she calls Roy. And when we’d eaten at Dicks she and Roy drove all the way back into town to pick us up again. Proper American hospitality. Thanks Barbie. And Roy.
A funny kind of feeling on arrival here in Albuquerque. Elation that the first seven days of riding are behind us and that the first rest day is ahead of us. Sadness that we were unable to ride the whole way from Gallup to Albuquerque. We had to be trucked the first few miles past some shoulder on Interstate 40 that was unrideable because of it’s poor state of repair. And we missed two sections – both compulsory, one in the middle of the day and one at the end – because violent crosswinds made riding too dangerous. The purist in me is niggled. The pragmatist in me says it was a good call to abandon the ride for the day before the weather worsened. And now, from the comfort of our hotel room, it’s fair to say it’s blowing a hooley outside and no sane cyclist should be out on the roads or they’d end up like the poor old rattlesnake in the picture above.
Sadness also that a couple of riders are leaving us here having signed up to do only part of the trip. It’s amazing how quickly “family” ties develop on the road forged in the crucible of physical and mental exertion. Thanks for the ride guys and safe trips home.
It’s 10.30 at night here in California and in precisely six and a half hours our alarm will go off on a routine that will continue for the next 28 days. Up at 5am. Breakfast at 5.30am. On the road by 7am. The early starts are necessary because otherwise there simply wouldn’t be enough daylight hours to complete the 115 mile plus days required to cross this continent in a month.
We should be asleep by now but of course sleep never comes when most it’s needed. Banging doors, whining air conditioning, whirring minds…
You’re going to be stretched further than you thought you could endure.
The words of ride leader Mike Munk are still ringing in my ears from this afternoon’s safety briefing. With temperatures in the mid 90s Fahrenheit over the first few days, dehydration was a very real danger he’d warned. Water was going to be our biggest friend. Without enough we’d end up in hospital attached to a saline drip. None at all and we’d end up dead. Not quite the life-changing adventure Rose and I and the 20 or so other cyclists gathered in the motel meeting room had been anticipating.
I’ll introduce you to the gang along the way. But for now let me say that as health and safety briefings go it was pretty extreme. After listing every which way of falling or getting knocked off a bike Mike warned us that as soon as tomorrow lunchtime our minds would be so addled from the effort of riding in such extreme conditions we’d start behaving like Goofy. Not a mad metaphor given that Disney’s Burbank studios are just the other side of LA.
“I want your dream to become reality and not turn into a nightmare,’ he said towards the end of the briefing. Too late Mike. Too late.
Drive through banks, drive through chemists, drive through launderettes, drive through restaurants, drive through funeral parlours…
Okay I made the last one up. But all the same nobody seems to walk anywhere much in this part of America so the locals spend an awful lot of time sitting on their backsides. And so will we over the next month as we saddle up and pedal 3,000 miles across the US. Which means we have to pay special attention to our, ahem, nether regions.
Without wishing to ruin your Easter with talk of hot cross bums scrupulous hygiene is called for. For starters we’ve got to make sure we’re squeaky clean down below, then smother our cheeks with chamois cream and finally wrap them not in cotton wool but padded shorts.
In the old days that meant slaughtering a goat-antelope, tanning its hide and sewing the resulting soft leather into the gusset of one’s riding breeches. Now it’s pretty much all synthetic and the only thing that gets slaughtered is your wallet.
I paid £220 for a pair of Swiss-made ASSOS T.cento s7 bib shorts (think lederhosen and the Sound of Music and you won’t be far wrong on the look) which is an eye-watering sum of money by any reckoning. But then a sore backside can be eye-watering in a different way. And in any case if they perform as the manufacturer promises it’ll work out to just over 7p per mile. Question is will they?
Search the sales blurb for an answer and all you’ll find is the usual pseudo-scientific hyperbole. Here’s an excerpt.
The unique insert is a small masterpiece that has been specifically designed for ultra-long-distance missions. Ergonomically shaped, it uses higher density memory foam shock absorbers and features a very special ASSOS invention, kuKuPenthouse. In the front section of the insert there is a low volume circular inlet that accommodates the male anatomy in cocoon-like comfort, yet holds everything securely.
Cocoon-like comfort for the male anatomy. Or, to put it bluntly, a nest for your knackers so they don’t get scrambled on long rides.
Sounds like a load of old bollocks – literally when I’m wearing them. Which I did today for a 40km training ride. To be honest they didn’t feel significantly more comfortable than the pair I wore on the same ride yesterday and cost only a quarter of the price. But hey it’s way too early to say if I’ve been sold a bum steer. The proper road test begins in little over 24 hours. I’ll keep you posted.
A goat-antelope or chamois breathing a huge sigh of relief that cycle shorts are now made of synthetic material. Note the racing handlebars.
