Bike-packing; Second Attempt, Day 2

Waking Monday morning it was cold! With the daylight-savings time-change a couple days earlier, 8 am now felt much more like 7am, particularly when the sun was hidden behind the hills surrounding me. Un caffeinated and with cold fingers and toes, I was back on the bike a few minutes after 9 am. The route for the day would take me east and north-east back out of the Solitario, then west to Pila Montoya. From there, I would retrace my route back down Fresno canyon to the Barton Warnock Center then west back home. First, however, was the Road to No-where…

Riding north-east for a few miles I soon found the sign I’d been expecting, one that would take me up and up. I’d been told about this route, a road that quite literally goes nowhere. After multiple steep climbs and loose switchbacks on an un-maintained dirt road within the southern hills of the Solitario, this rough road just dead-ends with a sign announcing that you have indeed arrived at Nowhere. However, you’re not really nowhere, for the views of the Solitario’s plain to the north were spectacular! Standing dumbfounded for a few minutes, I got back on Isabelle for the descent and my next adventure; getting water.

Needing water for the day’s ride ahead, I stopped at the Tres Papalotes campsite and water-tank. Taking out my Katadyn Hiker Pro micro-filter, I quickly filled my water-bottle. As my camel-back bladder neared full, I noticed that I’d lost pressure. Looking away from the bladder to the filter sitting on the tank’s edge, I had just enough time to thrust my arm into the water as the line-in hose and pre-filter sank to the bottom. “CRAP” [or some other four-letter word] I yelled, spilling water on myself as I dove for that hose. I missed it, it was gone. You see, some time ago, the snap-clip that held the hose to the pump-body had broken. It still worked fine, I just had to be careful not to let the hose slip out of the pump-body. So much for that!

Not knowing what else I might find hiding in that green, murky tank, I wasn’t willing to jump in and search for the hose. Equally, despite it being nearly 10:30 am, it was too cold out to risk immersing myself in the water. I could have found something to attempt to fish-out the hose, but I knew it would be futile, I could be there for hours. So, I shrugged my shoulders, took what water I had and carried on. I was confident I had enough water to get me back to the Barton Warnock Center where they’d have plenty for the final 14 mile ride home.

Once I reached Pila Montoya, the ride south was mostly down-hill, certainly losing elevation the whole way. It was tremendous, flying down hills and cruising along the flats, I had a huge grin on my face. I also didn’t have to deal with the wind, as it was now at my back. Nearing the Chimney Rock Trail, I ran into Rick who had come out to ride home with me. We did eventually stopped at Warnock for a bite to eat and to refill on water. From there, I was homeward bound.

Arriving home 7 hours after I’d started earlier that day, I was soon treated to dinner made by a dear friend. The next day, my 39th birthday, couldn’t have started any better. My body was tired from the ride but my soul was smiling from the experience. Yup, life is pretty grand here in the desert.

Heading to No-Where

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