The next morning we were all eager to get to Colorado, but we still did not get out of SanteFe until about 11:00. I took off ahead of the others headed for the home base in LaVeta Colorado. I selected LaVeta as a base because it is a sweet little town in Southern Colorado not far from I-25 with great access to the rest of the state.

It is a short drive from SanteFe to LaVeta, and I rolled into town mid-afternoon. First I drove around town then parked the van and trailer at the town park to wait for the other guys to show up. Steve and Bill were coming in Steve’s truck with their bikes and Kevin rode over on his bike. We managed to hook up and have a little picnic in the park while waiting for my friend to open up his storage yard where we would leave the vehicles and trailers while we rode. After a lunch we unloaded, geared up and made ready to roll. It was about that time that Steve realized he had lost the keys to his bike. Fretting and worrying, he futzed around cursing himself. “No problem, this bike is a piece of cake to hot wire.” I popped the headlight out of the old airhead and had the bike purring in ten minutes. Not to be outdone for foolishness, I let my bike fall over in the parking lot when the center stand broke through the fresh blacktop. After righting the RT, tweaking the windshield back in place and pushing the turn signal back on, we were finally riding for Salida.

By the time I wheeled within view of the house, I felt almost normal. A shower, a cocktail, and a steak dinner set me fully right. Jovial spirits reigned while we discussed the route and the last two days of moto merriment. All were in agreement that the route had been just about ideal.

Excellent roads and stunning, western high-desert surroundings make the northern New Mexico region around SanteFe and Taos ideal motorcycle touring country. We will be going back this summer for some more exploring, and we hope to add a northern New Mexico Tour in 07.

After northern New Mexico it was onto the Colorado Rockies for more adventures.

As usual with sleeping out on the ground, actual, sound and restful sleep proved evasive, and I was wide awake just at daylight wondering what the hell to do while everyone else was snoozing away. I solved that problem with plenty of loud rustling about. Pretty soon heads poked out of tents and from under tarps. It wasn’t long before we struck our little camp and heading into Taos for coffee and breakfast.

After a not so quick breakfast a little local place packed with tourists, our little group proceeded west on highway 64 toward Chama. Sweepers galore and easy twisties all the way to Chama left everyone grinning ear to ear. At Chama we continued west toward Dulce. We where way out in Jicarilla Apache Reservation when we turned south on NM 537 Out of the foothills and in the desert once again, we turned up the dial a bit, running in the 90s all the way to San Yisidro and the turn onto to N.M. turns back east and north into the mountains around Los Alamos.

By this time we had been on the road most of the day slicing and dicing and generally frolicking around. Not long after we began to gain altitude the road tightened up and the sky went blue-black. Two hundred fifty miles since breakfast and a great motorcycle road ahead lead straight into an inky wall of thunderstorms—a conundrum indeed. The road had been a blast for the first hour: switchbacks doubling back themselves and great scenery all around.

I had gotten carried away in the twisties and the rest of the guys were well back. I figured I would hold up ahead and wait for them in Los Alamos. The thunderstorm had other ideas, and along one of the best sections of road yet the rain cut loose like it was being poured out of a bottomless pitcher right onto me. Things began to get real unpleasant about this time. I was soaked so fast that raingear seemed a waste of time, the temperature plummeted, the road was tight, wet, and descending steeply—bloody hell I was uncomfortable. Even with the heated grips my hands became unresponsive claws affixed to the grips. At the apogee of my misery I spotted a gas station with a huge covered pump area and wheeled the RT under cover before I went completely hypothermic.

I pulled every piece of dry clothing out of my saddle bags, hit the head and dried up a bit. I was still shaking uncontrollably so I figured large amounts of strong hot coffee were in order. By the second cup shaking from cold had been replaced by shaking from caffeine.

About the time I began to think that the boys were hold up somewhere trying to stay dry, they shot past my warm spot without seeing the RT parked under the awning. I finished my coffee and summoned all my will to go back out on the bike for the last 60 miles back to our base in SanteFe. The heavy rain had passed as quickly as it had come, and my run into SanteFe was uneventful. The whole of that last leg I thought about how great those roads were in the foothills just when it had started to rain. They were perfectly twisty and enticing, but the rain came at just the wrong time. Oh well, next year.

Continuing on the enchanted Circle,we hit highway 64 south of Eagle Nest and continued around the circle toward Questa. Over Bobcat Pass, through Red River, and on around toward Taos. The roads were picture perfect, mounting up and over foothills and twisting through pine forests. We rode slow and easy taking in the cool and swapping lead so everyone could enjoy the view.

We rolled into Taos near sunset, rode out of town along the river and found a nice though over-used spot next to the stream. We pitched camp then rode back into town for some dinner. After a good New Mexican feed, we got back to camp early to ensure our full dose of zzzs. I could not remember the last time I had camped off the bike and it felt good to fall asleep with the water chasing over the rocks just ten feet from my ears.

We started out on Interstate 25 North heading out of SanteFe toward Las Vegas New Mexico. Once in a while it can be enjoyable running fast on the interstate, and this was one of those times. Blasting through the morning air at 80 or 90 shrank the space around me to the cozy intimacy inside my little bubble of speed and wind noise. Outside, the landscape tore away from me in all directions, expanding outward into an almost incomprehensible vastness—the desert can be a mind-expanding experience.

Sixty miles up I25 we swung onto the exit toward and started on the Enchanted Circle. Now on the secondary highways I enjoy the most, the big oil-head beemer droned along proudly. Clearly all was right with the world: I was riding my motorcycle in the Rockies, gaining altitude with every revolution of the big boxer, and it was the first day of a month of riding. Roasting through June in the Texas furnace had mercifully ended and I was back in the land of pine, peaks and red dirt.

That first day was pretty much a joyous blur: the smell of dry air and pine forced into my helmet riding made left me all giddy and grinning like a fool. We were brought back to reality by a quick, cool and vigorous afternoon thundershower, and we took refuge under an overhanging porch. It wasn’t much but enough to bring out the rain gear. As usual no sooner were we were geared up, and the action was over. Shortly the skies blued nicely, and we were off again—ah, summer in the Rockies.

Finally getting the ride reports of last summer. Riding is great down here in Austin, and I will be posting a ride report on a ride I did solo around Feb, 1. Meanwhile, with Rocky Mountain riding season fast approaching, I finally have begun writing up last summer's ride reports. I think they are likely better for the wait--distillation always improves my writing. Well, last summer's riding proved nothing short of wonderfully gratifying. I hope the coming posts get that across.

OUT OF THE FURNACE AND BACK TO THE HIGH LONESOME

It is hard to know where to start; let’s just say that Colorado was fantastic last summer. I let other stuff get in the way and didn’t keep up the blog, but with summer just around the corner, the coming touring season has me remembering how great last summer really was.

There is so much to cover I’m going to have to break this down into a few coffee shop sessions. I have some pretty good pictures (pretty good because it is hard to get avid riders to sit still for photo sessions).

Let’s start with getting out Texas and landing in SanteFe. We rolled out of Austin at the peak of summer on July on a truly scorching afternoon. The great thing about SanteFe is it’s just a days drive from Austin, we picked our way through the narrow streets of the old town about 11:00 PM searching for my buddy’s house where we would stay for a few days to ride the area.

I woke up to a shatteringly blue SanteFe sky at 6:00 excited as hell to get on the road. By the time we had unloaded the bikes from the various trailers, unpacked, then repacked everything for an overnight camping ride of about 800 miles, it was straight up noon. But in a few more minutes, crunching red pumice and sandstone under our wheels as we wound our way through the neighborhood, we picked up the first paved street and slipped out of town. It was finally on.

MORE SOON