Adventures

Day 27: Pain & Fisticuffs

Cuba, NM (10 July 2019) It was about 120 miles from Cuba to Grants, New Mexico. The Tour Divide route took us across the Navajo Nation on paved roads with very little climbing.

It was not clear what services would be available along the route so I loaded the bladder with Gatorade with the thought that if needed, nearly six liters of fluids would be enough for the entire trip. Gatorade was necessary to stave off the chemical taste of lingering insecticide which survived my best efforts to expunge.

The morning was clear and cool but warmed quickly. Not long after leaving Cuba the route headed off onto a secondary road. The odd thing was the GPS track was not aligned with the road. It was clearly just an error in the GPS file and it was easy to follow the intended route with guidance from the eTrex navigation device which was relied upon for navigation. The device was configured to show the route, my position relative to it and the distance my position was from being exactly on the track (distance off track). Most of the time, distance off track was given in feet. Depending on the width of the road this was usually zero to 20 feet. Whenever this number reached 50 feet or more, the route would need to be checked to be sure I wasn't off course. The main screen also displayed an arrow which pointed to the course. When off course, the arrow generally pointed back to where the course was left. Consequently, the feet off course became miles as progress was made on the correct route which was just a quarter mile to the west of the errant track. The eTrex gave no warnings and made no sounds. In these situations the passive nature of the device works well. At a glance, I could see my progress along the parallel path to the errant track without the device bothering me with this detail.

My crossing of the Navajo Nation land didn't require any special considerations when traveling the roads by bicycle. I read prior that people were told by locals that bicyclists are often harassed. My experience was similar to those that were warned -- the people were kind and welcoming. Perhaps these warnings say more about the people giving them than anything else. I was very grateful for two stops provided by the Navajo. First a convenience store where the proprietor was very friendly and second was a laundromat where a group of locals greeted me with tired glances. My appearance was not enough to release these folks from the grip of boredom it seemed.

The convenience store provided a great opportunity to ditch the Gatorade in my bladder which was already starting to taste like insect repellent. From this point it was about 80 miles to the first services near Grant. With the expectation of making good time on relatively flat paved roads, it was decided that three liters of water would be sufficient to cross the open hot desert.

As I sat on the sidewalk in front of the laundromat, a short haired black dog with white and gray blotches appeared and approached me cheerfully but carefully. It appeared to me that this dog has learned the best route to a treat was to avoid running toward people with too much enthusiasm. She gave me no reason to recoil and with me sitting on the ground it seemed our eyes shared a smile. I shared some water, V8 and honeybun and she seemed to enjoy it all. She never begged and sat nearby while I finished my snack. She departed my side only briefly when another patron appeared so that she could flash her big eyes in hope of receiving another treat. Unfortunately for her, no one seemed to return a glance.

The vast open landscape was scared with the black ribbon of the paved road I followed. The sun beat down brightly, the wind gave a gentle push and the temperature crept up toward 90. It was hot but the rolling was good and good time was made with over 115 miles covered in 9.5 hours, including stops. It was just before 4 P.M. when I arrived at the Kiva Cafe in Milan on highway 66. There I had a bowl of nachos with guacamole and what seemed like a gallon of coke. I felt accomplished as I headed to the bike for the last few miles to Grants. That feeling was instantly replaced by one of great pain, however, when I sat on the saddle.

There was no sitting on the saddle. The pain was incredibly intense. The constant pedaling and perspiration conspired to open up another wound on my behind. This felt like a show stopper. Convinced that after caring for it in a hotel overnight it would be tolerable in the morning, the remaining miles from Milan to the hotel in Grants were pedaled. It was trick, navigating the route to the hotel in Grants without using the saddle. Upon arrival a brief moment of sitting filled me with dread. It was no longer tolerable but I pressed on nevertheless.

With time on my hands and a coin operated washer in the hotel, I resolved to wash my stuff one last time. The washer was not running but clothes were sitting inside so I returned to my room to snack. After some lingering in the room, I returned to find the clothes were still in the washer so I unloaded them onto a table and started my wash. When I returned to retrieve my clothes, a stocky man in his forties with dark short hair was standing back from the washer with his arms crossed. Next to him was a large bag of clothes in need of washing, perhaps two loads worth. The washer was on it's last spin. First he just glared at me while I waited for the wash to complete. Just as the washer came to a stop, he told he was very upset that I touched his clothes. He went on to say that he was doubtful that all of his clothes were removed and demanded that everything removed be inspected to be sure his items are not mixed with mine. "That's fine," I said as I turned to face him. He dropped his arms, puffed his chest and his ears turned from white to red with anger. "This guy wants to hit me," I thought to myself. He ranted while I removed my clothes, being careful to inspect each item in plain sight. With the drier still filled with his clothes, I took everything back to the room to air dry. The whole experience was surreal and I was happy not to have a black eye to add to my sore bottom.

After seeing Jim in the lobby, we arranged to have dinner together and go shopping for supplies. At Walgreen's we purchased Nutella, peanut butter and a loaf of bread. In Jim's room we made up the entire loaf into sandwiches and split them between us. That plus a few other assorted items was our food supply for crossing the Gila National Forest.

I retired to my room concerned. Not that I'd be beaten up in the hallway but not knowing if I would be able to tolerate sitting on the saddle. I thought this problem was managed but this new pain was beyond what I experienced up until now. Over the last couple of weeks, Tegaderm was applied to cover the worst sore. When it stayed in place, Tegaderm worked great and the riding was more comfortable. Unfortunately, depending on the application, it sometimes just bunched up and did no good at all. Before falling asleep, I decided that no matter what, I would bike for 30 minutes before deciding whether I would be able to complete the Tour Divide.

Elevation Profile for Day 27

On to Day 28