Day 23: Grants

124 miles until Grants all on paved roads called the Chaco alternate. Due to the every day thunderstorms the original route become impassable when wet. That’s the reason for the two alternative routes in New Mexico both on paved roads. Both are more or less flat with the typical every day hilly up and down game. Like the day before I left the motel at 4:00 pm.

Today it’s gonna be dog day! I heard the beasts at the junction to the Chaco alternate very close behind the city limit of Cuba. I turned my head and in the light beam of my flashlight I looked in several pairs of glowing eyes. Actually, not funny at all! How nice that my bear spray and the dog dazer were on the way to Vegas! As the pack started their hunt I was very glad about the smooth descending road. I switched some gears higher and speeded up my bike as fast as someone with 22 days Tour Divide in his legs was able to accomplish. But I was not able to keep the pace any longer than one minute. Fortunately the barking faded away, a sign to me that my escape was successful. I slowed just a little bit down and was completely exhausted. Such sprints with a full loaded bike in the dark are not supportive for the vital forces. More of those sprints today and I would need one additional day for recovering.

The area where I was riding through was Navajo area. If I saw any houses I always kept my eyes wide open for dogs. The sun was covered by clouds what made the ride more convenient. The second attack came just a few miles before Pueblo Pintado. The dude in front of the house didn’t give a damn about his dog that was slipping through the fence and right onto the road. The luck was on my side a second time. The road was descending, but the beast was pretty fast. He abandoned his chase not until he noticed that I was faster. I deeply regretted that my bear spray was on the way to Nevada. What a dog polluted area I was getting into?

Landscape wise hilly dry bush veld took turns with some nice rock formations. In the meantime the sun heated up the pavement and made riding to a sweaty affair. The road was peppered with these damn mile marker that counting either up or down the miles and show you without any mercy where your deficits are. I had always to remember the sentence from Georg Deck that he had to learn on the TD how long a mile could be. Very true! And counting down 124 miles ... .

I didn't know if I saw first the flock of sheep or heard the barking dogs, but they already headed on towards me. This time I was a little bit more relaxed, because there was at least a distance from 1500 feet or more between the dogs and me and the road descended for the third time. So I had not to speed up like one possessed, but I slowly increased my speed to about 30mi/h. No chance for the dogs. Some miles later I was wondering about this bumpy road. With every turn of the wheel I got a bump. As I inspected the road I couldn't see any reason for the bumps. The road was just fine. But as I cast an eye at my rear tire I saw the misery. A bulge like an egg was decorating my tire. What the hell was that? I immediately got off my bike and analyzed the problem. First I thought the notubes sealant was dissolving my tire, but it didn't. The profile was as worn out that the inside pressure pressed the thin tire to the outside. What a bummer! With this egg I was not able to ride anymore. I don't like to think what might happened if the tire burst at one of my dog getaways. A big mistake to rely on the paved sections here in New Mexico and not to change at least the rear tire in Salida. What to do now? Maybe if I would line in a tube would take away the pressure from the weak spot and I could go on. The other option was pushing the bike under the hot sun until Milan or Grants what would take two or three hours.

I deflated the tire, lined in a tube, took my pump and ... nothing! Am I at Candid Camera? The heat and the sleep deprivation let work the mind slow, so I got some seconds until I really realized that my pump (worked always before) was done. It was obviously, someone was kidding me. I tried to figure out where the problem with the pump was. Disassembled and assembled the pump several times without any success. Unbelievable! For sure, since New Mexico I was attracting the misery. I must be in a bad road movie, because in the near rock formation I heard the Coyotes yowling. To make a long story short, during I pushed my bike towards Grants I had also the option in my mind to quit the race, because neither Milan nor Grants had any bike service. To finish the race without missing my flight back I needed a tire. Today! Totally exhausted from the heat I hit the Main street of Milan. An older man on his bike asked me if I would need a pump. Yes I did! He pulled out a pump out of his pocket. With an adapter I was able to pump up my tire. But the egg still remained even with an inner tube. So a pump wouldn't have provided a solution to the problem. On my question for a bike shop I got an answer but I was not able to understand this guy at all. Not a single word! Carefully I tried to ride the 5 miles until Grants. The egg slowly disappeared. I rode up and down the main street to find any possibility for a tire replacement. Nothing! I phoned my wife to tell her about quitting the race. I really wasn't sad about it and I was just fine with it. No regrets. Nothing! After the call I gave myself a last chance and stopped at a shop for car tires and ask someone if he had any idea where I could find a tire for a mountain bike. He sent me to the Walmart. Of course, my lock was in the parcel to Vegas too. I parked my bike behind three older ladies who were collecting money for a charity organization. I asked them if they would keep an eye on my bike. They agreed! In the sport section of this really big market I scanned the racks for tires. I saw some bikes but no tires. First I discovered the pumps, but without a tire no pump. I was just about abandoning all my hopes as I saw some small boxes in one corner of a rack. Tires. Now the question: 29er or just 26er? And in fact they had 29er tires. Ok, the profile like a compactor and heavy like a downhill version, but a 2.35er 29er tire. I also took a pump where I understood the corresponding adapter for the presta valve was inside the pump. 

The old ladies did a great job. I took my bike and started to change my tire in front of the supermarket. Of course, I had to explain two times what I am doing here, where I come from and where I am going to. But in the meantime it was like I swallowed a record. First I reeled down my standard text and then had to answer a lot of questions. 15 minutes later I was ready to check in for a motel. Right across the street the motel chains had its location. As I left the Walmart I met Ed again. He was just about to heading on to Pie town. No way for me today! I needed all my power for the long push tomorrow. 260 miles in one push to Silver City claimed for some rest. In addition the thunderstorms were rolling in. Maybe this was the last time I saw him. 

I took a bath, did my laundry the last time and phoned my wife that I am back in the race. I did a short nap before I returned to the Walmart for a full resupply. Because we didn't know anything about the resupply possibilities on the second fire reroute I stocked up all my drinks and food to the top. In the evening Denny's gave me the chance for some pasta!