Tales from the Road: MACH.19 - Saguaro Country, Day 13: Zoning

Saguaro Country, Day 12
Zoning
Friday May 10, 2019

Yesterday evening while walking back from the restaurant we saw a nice black Wing do a U-turn under the I-10 overpass, and when we got back to the hotel, a couple was unloading the bike for the night. It turned out to be Jim and Candy, someone who's a member of the same Facebook Gold Wing group I am, where I'm posting links to this blog. We had a nice chat about things motorcycle geeks talk about: Traxxion suspension, darksiding, trailers, packing techniques.

Last night I cleaned the bike and trailer to catch up accumulated bugs, but opted to leave the cover off because the wind was still blowing strongly and the desk clerk said it typically does so all night. I wasn't happy about those nylon covers flapping all night against the painted surfaces.

This morning, the temperature has dropped to 47F and the wind is stronger than ever, stinging my face with a thousand pinpoints of misty rain when I walk outside. The surrounding Guadalupe Mountains, which last night were stark, bold and beautiful against the westerly setting sun, are brooding and indistinct, barely distinguishable in the mist that shrouds the desert floor.

Once again, similar to the second day out, we layer up and perform the Dance of the Rain Suit for an added layer of protection from the cold as well as from the wind. I watch a bit enviously as Candy and Jim plug in their heated suits and think of our heated gear lying snuggled in at home.

By 9:04 AM we are swinging out of the hotel parking lot, waving good-bye, and turning onto I-10 West. The pavement isn't wet, but the wind whips the mist into a frenzy that coats the windshield as it forms droplets and is ushered off the scene by the force of our 75 mph dash westward.

Within minutes we cross into Mountain Time Zone, and the clock on the motorcycle, synchronized to the onboard GPS, adjusts itself backward one hour. Thus to El Paso, TX, where we catch Rt 178 and cross the border to New Mexico on County Road 9. This road runs for around 85 miles hard along the US-Mexican border and I wondered if it was wise to take this remote road; so much so, in fact, that I'd posted to my Facebook Gold Wing group for advice. Several people said they rode it just recently and while very remote with few services, they had no problems.

Just after exiting I-10 we fuel up and loop around to rejoin Rt 178. I forgot to check on fuel services, so at a red light I quickly call up "Fuel near my current route" and see a station in Douglas 180 miles away. Perfect, I think, and quickly add that waypoint to the route.

Most of the road has a 65 mph speed limit, which seems agonizingly slow after our days in Texas with its 80 mph speed limit. I keep checking cruise control to make sure I've set it for the speed limit. This route wanders arrow-straight, for the most part, through the high desert of New Mexico. Sagebrush and creosote bushes are predominant, but there are a lot of yucca plants in evidence. This is the state plant of New Mexico, and they are spectacular with their central stalk that rises to maybe 12 feet high, topped with a giant white flower.

There is evidence of ranching but little else. I know that the mountains at one time were sources of minerals, precious gems, and silver, but we don't see any evidence of that today. As we ride through the featureless desert, we... wait, what? Did you say "featureless"? Featureless! Oh no, my friend, the desert is not just a monotonous panoply of scrubby bushes scratching out their existence on the sandy gravel of the desert floor! The desert is an amazing, living thing, changing with every mile, every curve, every vista. The mountains, always present whether near or far away, each have their own characteristics and wildly imaginative rock decorations. The colors of the desert change each time the clouds diminish or we observe the sun shining at a different angle.

Off to the left we often see a structure (fence, wall, we can't really tell) marking the US-Mexico border. We also see a coyote, a live snake, a jackrabbit, and a few cattle who appear to be eating sand and rocks out there among the sage. What do those cattle eat, anyway?

"I love the desert!" Kitty exclaims in the headset. 65 mph seems slow, but on the other hand we are reluctant to do anything that would lessen our time here.

The clouds and mist have given way to partly cloudy skies, but the temperatures remain in the 50s. By the time we reach Hachita, NM, roughly 100 miles west of El Paso, we've passed one tiny town, Columbus. We stop for a break at a little market to eat a light lunch from our trailer stores. We talk to the store manager, a vivacious, very fit lady named Karen, who seems happy to answer all our questions.

"The last census registered 45 people in Hachita. I think it's probably less than 40 now. I'm fortunate to have one of two jobs in the town; the other is the US Post office. The people here all work on ranches." She said some people just come here not to be found. I allow as how this seems like a really good place not to be found.

We've seen little evidence of Border Patrol except for a few Border Patrol vehicles and two helicopters lifting off from the only Border Patrol facility we saw. It seems very peaceful. "In the last three nights, they took in 600 illegal immigrants," says Karen. "The women and children show up at one point as a distraction, and the men go separately to another place to make their border crossing attempt."

She explains that the ranchers mostly truck in trailer loads of hay for their livestock, and we recall seeing a handful of such trucks this morning. Of course they need water, and as is the case all over the western deserts, water is not a problem; there are huge aquifers under the desert floor, and it's only surface water that's scarce. Apparently water is there for the taking; later in the day we talk to an alfalfa farmer who confirms that water is pretty much available anywhere you dig a hole 250 or 300 feet deep.

This is the area where the fabled bandit Pancho Villa roamed and raided, and the old town of Hachita, up in the mountains, was destroyed by such a raid. Karen said it's common to take a Jeep or an ATV up into the mountains and still find gems and silver that hasn't been discovered by commercial mining operations that have long since shut down.

I opt not to fill up with fuel, as I have a waypoint for a gas station easily within this tank's range at our current speeds. But as we proceed through Animas and on to Rodeo, something isn't right with my fuel situation. My fuel stop in Douglas, AZ is still 50 miles away, and I'm just not sure if I have that range. It will be very close. I don't have auxiliary gasoline with me on this trip.

Suddenly, like a stroke of lightning, I realize what's happened. When I routed to the gas station while sitting at a red light, in my hurry to complete the action before the light changed, I simply accepted the GPS distance as driving distance. It is not. Every GPS user knows that unless the waypoint is actually in the route, the GPS will show the straight-line distance from point to point. My innocuous 180-mile waypoint turned out to be 220 driving miles. What a rookie mistake!

In the village of Rodeo, there is no gas service. I stop at a museum and ask if there's gas available. The museum curator says the nearest gas would be Animas, a 20-mile backtrack. She turns to someone she was just chatting with and asks "Do you have gas you'd sell?"

And that's how we come to follow instructions from an alfalfa farmer who tells us to park right at the New Mexico-Arizona line while he goes to his farm and brings some gasoline. As promised, he returns about a half hour later with a funnel and with gasoline in a 5-gallon container, and we fill the thirsty fuel tank to the top. I'd ridden 172 miles on this tank; towing the trailer and riding two-up, I doubt that I could have made 220 miles. I pay him what he asks for the gas and $10 more for the trouble.

Entering Arizona, my GPS clock adjusts back one more hour. What? Arizona and New Mexico are both in Mountain Time Zone. Aren't they? Well, yes, they are, sort of, but I finally realize that since Arizona doesn't observe Daylight Saving Time, they did not "spring forward" and are still one hour behind New Mexico. Who know you could travel 370 miles and cross the equivalent of two time zones?

We're in Bisbee, AZ at the Bisbee Grand Hotel. Mountain Time Zone. But California clock time. It's all very confusing, and now our body clock is likewise very confused. It takes a special skill to get jet lag on a motorcycle, but we seem to have done it. I have no idea what time it is! I think the sun will rise in the east after a while, at which time we'll resume our journey into Saguaro Country, which is on tomorrow's agenda.