We’ve finally found the answer to how to pack up camp and hit the road in double-quick time – get up in the freezing cold and chuck in the added risk of getting caught by state park rangers for camping illegally. This morning we woke at the Leasburg Dam State Park at 6am and were cycling by 7.15am. I say cycling, but only in so much as two frozen blocks of ice are able to ride a bike.
It was freezing – quite literally – the inside of my fly sheet was caked in ice. Sometimes the range of temperatures we have to deal with on the Southern Tier are extraordinary. Terry appeared to be wearing every single piece of clothing he owned, including a headband and he’d slept in them all too. Getting up during the night for the call of nature he’d been able to track The Plough across an amazingly clear sky which also gave him time to appreciate just how cold it really was.
It was so cold we just ate a banana each for breakfast and decided to forgo the cereal and milk we’d bought the day before and carried to camp. The thought of drinking freezing cold milk was just unthinkable.
I had clearly under-dressed and was very cold, particularly my fingers. Stupidly, despite reading about how temperatures plummet in desert environments at night I’d only brought two pairs of fingerless cycling gloves and now I was suffering, gripping the handlebars with frozen digits.
As we climbed out of Radium Springs I began to lose feeling in my fingers and toes. I could temporarily warm my hands by placing them one at a time inside a pocket on my jacket, or sticking them under my armpit, but it wasn’t a long term fix and I had to resort to huddling them behind my bar bag, which offered some protection. As for my toes I should have taken the sensible option adopted by Terry and worn my overshoes.
We hardly spoke to each other for the first ten miles. I’m not sure if it was the cold, or because we’d had a few niggles with each other the day before. But while the atmosphere may have been a little frosty the rising sun began to offer some warmth as well as spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. That served to improve our mood, as did the fleeting glimpse of a roadrunner.
Twenty miles into today’s ride we came to Hatch where the valley, which had been scrub, suddenly transformed into neatly ploughed, dark brown fields. They were all waiting to be sown with this year’s crop of award-winning chillies, as the town proudly claims to be the chilli capital of the world. It even has a chilli festival on Labour Day.
The first signs were not good and we were threatened with being chased out of town by dogs before we even got a look at the place. Terry, who was further on up the road in front of me, won the attention of two dogs first and then it was my turn. These days I don’t even use a dog Dazer finding that a loud and angry “Stand down!” usually does the trick and so it was here.
The first inhabitants of Hatch knew what it was like to be run out of town. Originally named Santa Barbara in 1851, Apache raids drove settlers away until 1853 when nearby Fort Thorn was established. Abandoned again in 1860 after the fort closed, it was reoccupied in 1875 and renamed for Edward Hatch, the commander of the New Mexico Military District.
“The best you can hope for is a gas station that sells coffee and a couple of plastic seats to sit on”.
Cold and hungry we were hoping to find somewhere for breakfast but we’ve learnt from bitter experience never to expect much, or indeed anything from the small towns or villages we pass through. The best you can hope for is a gas station that sells coffee and a couple of plastic seats to sit on.
But Hatch proved to be a real surprise. As well as being famous for its chillies, the town also seems to have captured the market in giant roadside cartoon characters with the main junction boasting an enormous Uncle Sam, T Rex, Robin Hood and Yogi bear. It was all a bit bizarre, but very colourful as were many of the shops and businesses, many of which seemed to specialise in brightly coloured pots or giant metal sculptures of flowers and assorted creatures,
Spotting a giant green chilli wearing a moustache, a ten gallon hat and giving us a thumbs up, our eyes were drawn to the brightly painted ‘Valley Cafe’. We went inside to find a fantastic little diner which had everything we needed to warm up – hot coffee, breakfast (with chillies of course which tasted great) – and two pancakes each. While we were there the owner explained that the chillies were only just being planted – and could be harvested as early as July (or as late as October) while the pecans can sometimes be picked as late as January.
A couple sitting at a table to the left of us explained that Hatch was once one of those towns, like so many we’d seen in Texas, that was at risk of disappearing. Then a local restaurant was opened and its fortunes began to go up. Build them and they will come.
One of the curious characters lining the streets was a green alien and it turns out Spaceport America, home to Virgin Galactic, is only 40 odd miles north of the town. At one point there had even been talk of a visitor centre in Hatch from which tourists would be shuttled to the spaceport. Whether there was any link between the firepower of the local chillies and the thrust needed to get into orbit we never found out.
Somehow, as if by a miracle, when we crossed the Rio Grande coming out of Hatch there appeared to be standing water in it, although we surmised this must be from an underground spring. But where there is water there is life, with numerous birds around. It makes you wonder how much wildlife the river used to support compared to what it does now.
Sadly it seemed the towns of Salem, Derry and Arrey hadn’t found any reason to make people stay. Indeed many of these places appeared to be little more than virtual shanty towns, with trailers in various states of decay, abandoned cars and assorted scrap. The only thriving businesses seemed to be large modern chilli processing plants, boat and vehicle storage and a diary.
In Arrey, the wooden buildings … mostly empty and decaying … gave the air of a deserted town in a TV western, complete with a small cemetery where the graves were piles of stones and simple wooden crosses. It was all quite disturbing.
“Had it been Hatch there would have been a giant orange and black cat by the roadside”.
In Garfield there was no sign of lasagne, despite the townsfolk being given a slamdunk opportunity to cash in on the link. Had it been Hatch there would have been a giant orange and black cat standing by the roadside smiling and beckoning in travellers for pasta.
The nearby Caballo Lake State Park and Percha Dam State Park meant there were plenty of RV sites too and we took a break at the Lake View R.V. Park General Store at Caballo where we stocked up on food and sat outside on a bench tucking into a lunch of Cheerios and tepid milk (left over from breakfast), plus assorted rolls, coffee and marathon bars.
It appeared to be run by two old ladies who seemed equally amazed and bemused by our journey. It was all very relaxing – and as usual we stayed far too long – but at least we had an excuse – we were trying to put off the long climb up to Hilsboro where we were planning to stop for the night.
When the hills came it was almost like cycling in parts of Scotland, but higher. After a long slow climb and rapid descent we arrived in the former gold mining town in good spirits and found an ideally placed town park, right in the middle of town, with water, a long drop toilet and flat grass to camp on – perfect!
We never got any further that night as a local dogwalker told us the only place in Hillsboro where we could get food was shut and wouldn’t open until 9am in the morning. With a 3,000ft plus climb awaiting us first thing in the morning we couldn’t wait that long so we resigned ourself to thoughts of a breakfast of stale bagels, peanut butter, bananas – all washed down with cold water. Terrific.
The dog walker told us Hillsboro was the perfect place if you were trying to get off grid and escape. There was no internet, a very poor phone signal and just one TV station. He said he was enjoying laying low – not from the authorities but from his ex wife. Taking an interest in our journey he spoke with pride of his old Rayleigh bike, made in Nottingham and boasting Reynolds 531 tubing.
Hillsboro had been founded in the 1870s after gold and silver was discovered in the surrounding Black Range”.
A sign right next to the campsite revealed that Hillsboro had been founded in the 1870s after gold and silver was discovered in the surrounding Black Range. The town developed into an important mining and ranching center and is said to have had the last operating stagecoach line in the U.S, although there was no evidence to support this.
A little later we were joined at camp by two touring cyclists, Greg and Dennis, who were on their way to Houston. The evening was spent mainly discussing Brexit over a paltry dinner of noodles and a tin of refried beans, followed by tinned peach slices.
Surprisingly, most of the people who speak to us are very well informed about the B word and very interested, intrigued and confused by the whole process … but then, who isn’t? The BBC Parly Channel is very popular over here … it turns out the Americans love all the pomp and parliament’s bizarre procedures.
Our conversation was interrupted by loud nosies alerting us to some other locals sharing our patch – about a dozen or so turkey vultures were flapping and arguing as they settled down to roost in the neighbouring trees for the night. We went to bed in all our cycling clothes for the second night running hoping they wouldn’t be fighting over our frozen bones by morning.
But at least they wouldn’t get my hands. My day had been made finding a couple of pairs of cheap woollen gloves at a Dollar General. It’s amazing what can make you blissfully happy when you strip your life down to two wheels and just a few possessions.
Today’s miles: 64.82
Miles since Anastasia State Park: 2,215.96
