Days 11 and 12: Safford to Silver City to Hilsboro; two of the hardest, best days I've ever done

Okay, so I topped myself on this one.  113 miles, the latter half of it against the wind and up into the mountains (another Devil's Canyon, they called it.)

I was practically mincemeat by the time I got fully into Silver City, a fun little college and tourist town way up in NM's southern copper mining land.  Everywhere was closing, but I squeezed in at the grocery store and scoped out a super-cheap motel.  Carrie, with a "C", she said, the original way, was the little old lady behind the counter at The Drifter.  I could have stayed at the KOA, but it was another seven miles, and almost as expensive.  I thought I better stay warm for the night, after a ride like that.  I love motels, but all the time I've spent outside has me avoiding the confines of permanent shelter these days.  I really would happily set up camp night after night.  But, eh, it was an experience.  And Carrie was rad.  She gave me lots of super weak, but hot, creamy, sugary coffee and led me on the path to Hilsboro.

You see, I stayed up way too late preparing food and dinking around, trying to get at some things I'd been pondering on the road, now scraping out of my head onto my notebook.  I woke up, still fried, my legs wobbly, and had planned on 88 miles to a town way past the imminent Emory Pass, called Truth or Consequences.  But Carrie was trying to help me get set straight for the day, and said, "Hilsboro, now that's a neat town."  At the Gila Hike and Bike shop, where I stopped for some air and a bit of the local before heading towards the mountain, agreed.  They showed me some camp spots before and after the climb, bid me good riddance, I mean, good luck, and I drug myself back out on I-80.  I-52 was beautiful, through real pine forests and their accompanying crisp, calmness.  But I was dead tired, and after 40 miles and lots of up and downs, still hadn't even come close to the summit.  I stopped for lunch, knowing I must be nearby.  Forty minutes later, I began the climb.

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, getting up that mountain.  But Emory Pass, at roughly 8500 ft, isn't even that much of a menace.  Still, I felt proud at the top, and again, gratitude.  It was a special place, as the top of hills tend to be.  I was looking out over what seemed hundreds of miles of beautiful green, where history had happened a hundred and fifty years ago when Mr. Emory made a first scientific expedition there.  Then, I bombed down 20 miles, as free as free can be.  Hee.  At Hilsboro, a mannequin dolled up in country western garb greeted me from the back of a pick up truck with a sign that said, "Slow down, please."

Slow down, I did.  In fact, I stopped.  A few minutes later, I met Jim.

He was the cactus growing, museum attendant and air stream trailer based ambassador to this fantastic little art town, popped up out of nowhere and quite enchanted.  He came out while I was looking around the park and told me about a regular supply of canned food free for the taking (one of the locals goes and fetches it from some nearby surplus dispensary) and a water tap, if I needed it.

Jim, of Black Range Musuem, in Hilsboro, NM

Well, we got to talking, I got to meeting Oddo (the very smart cat), and next thing you know we were sharing Busch NA's and a microwave pizza.  Well aware of the dietary excellence of our meal, Jim still thought there was nothing better than pizza and barbeque chips.  So, he brought them out, and sweetly concluded with an after-dinner snack, "hydrogenated star crunches," he called them.  Jim offered up the museum in lieu of camping, though it was a nice little park with deer and such just hanging out most of the time.  I thought it'd be pretty snug to hang out with a cat and sleep among all the old, cool artifacts, covered in quilts and good vibes.  So, I took him up on it.  There was no power but a couple bulbs in the old cabin-farmhouse, and dust coated everything.  No running water, I spit out my toothpaste in the cactus garden, just as he showed me, and brought water in from the spigot.  Jim said goodnight, and I slept, again, like a babe in the arms of the good earth.

Next morning, a banana, oatmeal, and I gave a genuine, "See you later!" to Jim.  I suspect, or I sincerely hope, to be back there someday.