Now, this is where it gets boring. Well, more so, and not so much for me, but for you. Two days to knock out wide open central New Mexico. I rode a hundred and some the first, arriving in the Bosque del Apache wildlife preserve through a thicket of bats and swallows the first day, only great memory being the stars, stars, stars! I wrested the camping ground manager from what looked like his snug place on the couch in front of the TV for the evening, around 9 o'clock (you'll see I have a habit of this.) And he showed me to a lovely patch of dirt and trees, with a hot shower and, he assured, safety. Though he went on to list all the possible animal attacks and such, he repeated, I would be safe.
I knew I had the last 90 miles in the heat to cover the next day, and I wanted to get in at a godly hour to my host, Alanna and her mother's home in old Albuquerque. So, I set up camp quickly, ate another freeze dried spaghetti meal, and then looked up. I couldn't believe how many there were. I almost cried it was so exquisite. Please people, get out from the city!
So, up and take down, I busted a serious move. I couldn't believe my pace, the fastest yet at around 20 miles an hour, some side roads, but part on I-25. I took a breather at Long John Silver's in Belin, 30 miles south, and got the scoop on a backroad to take straight up into downtown. It was the most fascinating entry, through the Pueblo Isleta Indian Reservation, then colorful South Valley, think Boyle Heights, or in general, East LA. Despite the black cloud of exhaust, the whistles, and the booming SUVs, or maybe because of them, I was thrilled to be in this vibrant, violent, already seeming passionate city.
"You're torched," Alanna said as I rolled up around 4 o'clock.
I rinsed, and we walked over towards a dive bar downtown, where I had a sweet tea and began breathing easy for a few days...
More on those in the next blog!
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