Upon waking however, last night’s secret campsite was now visible from the road. Several Border Patrol vehicles sped past us before one eventually came to quick stop and carefully approached us, his hand never too far from his taser. Once he realized we were just biking through, he congratulated us on being (nearly) finished, then sped off in search of other forms of vagrants.

After breaking camp, we began our ride along the final 21 miles of highway to the border. The first 15 miles flew by, with the mountains of Mexico visible the whole time. With only 5 miles left, our pace was disrupted by an event we thought might end our trip 5 miles too early. Off the side of the ride ahead were two bison, grazing in a fenced pasture, a scene we’ve seen countless times on this trip. These two bison were different however, they appeared to take keen interest in us. As we rode on, the bison ran along the fence in parallel with us. Then it happened, something we never imagined bison were capable of doing - they jumped the fence, leaping onto the road ahead of us. We skidded to a halt with the bison about 100 feet in front of us. As we each started an about-turn, the bison raced across the road, then jumped another fence before running off into the distance.

Startled, yet impressed, by their physical feat, we let out a sigh of relieve and continued on our way toward the border. The next 5 miles flew by without incident and we cruised into the border patrol station of Antelope Wells, NM. Upon reaching the U.S. station we stopped, expecting to have our passports examined. Instead we were greeted with “What are ya stopping for? You’re not there yet!” With that, we pushed our bikes the few remaining feet to Mile 0, crossing the border into Mexico.

Since we were there, we decided to ride into Mexico a little ways, mainly so our GPS would clearly register our position. So we pushed our bikes into the Mexican border station, where two guards couldn’t have cared less about our presence. We understood their lack of acknowledgment as a sign we could continue, so we cruised about 100 yards into Mexico, where we enjoyed a mountain margarita before returning to the U.S.

While south-of-the-border, our chauffeur showed up, so upon returning to the States we quickly packed our bikes, gear and bodies into his car. For Brett, this was the first time in a motorized vehicle since Banff, Alberta, more than 3,000 miles ago. On the way back to Silver City we told our driver, Ryan, about our journey and he shared stories about the other GDR rider and CD hikers he’s picked over the past weeks.

Back in Silver City, we picked up our reserved Uhaul truck, loaded our bikes and gear into the back and started our drive back to Phoenix, where Jeff lives. Along the way we began to notice signs for “The Thing?”. Always accompanied by a Dairy Queen logo, we took guesses at to what this crazy soft-serve creation might be. Much to our disappointment “The Thing?” was just a cheesy, chintzy souvenir shop. The ice cream was worth the stop though. Stuffed on Dairy Queen Blizzards we drove non-stop back to Phoenix and the comfort of Jeff’s house. After 66 days, and more than 3,000 miles of biking, our trip has officially ended.

Riding south from Silver City we cruised up and over the last two major hills of our trip along paved Route 90. Near the small community of White Signal we left the relative ease of the pavement for our final segment of dirt road, the Separ Road. At some point along the road we crossed the Continental Divide for our 31st time. Despite a small headwind, we made good time along the generally downhill-sloping dirt/sand road for the next 25 miles to the I-10 truckstop known as Separ, NM. It was 12:45 and we had already covered 51 miles. Well on the way to accomplishing our goal we thought.

In Separ we stopped to have lunch at one of the “unique” Bowlin Travel Centers. Filled with an assortment of miscellaneous junk; wooden things, sewn objects, items resembling clothing, $600 fireworks packages and some food, Bowlin Travel Centers are difficult to pass up. However, having been exposed to this crap for the past 2,600 miles, we were able to resist and left with only a few extra snacks. From Separ, we paralled Interstate 10 (the 5th transcontinental interstate we’ve crossed - I-90, I-80, I-70 and I-40) along a rough, windy frontage road. The 8 miles took us about an hour to cover, setting us a bit behind schedule to complete our century.

Once on pavement again we said goodbye to the dirt roads for last time. From this point on we’ll be on New Mexico’s Route 81 for the reminder of the trip. The fast pavement also meant we could get back on schedule. Unfortunately, the GDR had plans of its own. Suffering from a flat tire and increasingly strong headwinds on the way into Hatchita, our hopes of completing 100 miles were quickly fading. It was nearly 5:00pm (it gets dark at 6:40) by the time we reached Hatchita, and we still needed to cover almost 25 miles if we wanted to complete our goal. After stopping to resupply our water we decided our 100-miler was out of grasp.

We left Hatchita and continued heading south along Route 81 toward the border-town of Antelope Wells, about 45 miles away. Without the pressure of reaching 100 miles, we rode for fun. The road being mostly vacant of automobiles, we used up both lanes, riding next to each other while reminiscing over our adventures from the past weeks - the places we stayed, people we met and general oddities we’ve encountered.

At some point we realized the winds had shifted direction, and had been pushing us along at a respectable rate for the past few miles. A quick check of our odometers showed we had just crossed 90 miles on the day. It was getting pretty dark but we decided to push on. As we crossed the hundred mile mark the sun dropped below the horizon and a mile later we pulled off of the road and set up our test behind some bushes to hide from border patrol and drug trafficers crossing the border illegally. We were tired but excited to be only 22 miles from Mexico!

After a huge mexican lunch at the Mimbres Valley Cafe, we realized it was getting late. Our destination was Silver City, NM, the launching point for the final stretch to the border. We had mailed our support box there and it was important that we pick it up before 5 PM so we could get an early start tomorrow since we have a big 100 mile ride planned. At 3:00, Jeff decided to take off alone up over the 1,000 foot pass in the hopes of racing the 23 miles into Silver City before the post office closed. Even after summiting and hitting the paved highway, the 100 foot rolling hills and the massive burritos in his stomach threated to doom the mission. However, he rolled up to the post office just as the door was being locked and was able to pick up the box. Kelly and Brett arrived a short time later.

On our way into Silver City our initial impression was comparable to that of Butte, MT (see our post titled “The Armpit of America”). A forgotten mining city catering to the thru-town highway. Thankfully we discovered the historic section of town, filled with trendy coffee shops and unique restaurants and stores. We checked into the Palace Hotel, a cool 100 year old hotel right in the heart of downtown, then headed straight to Diane’s Restaurant for a hearty Italian dinner. Afterwards we hit up a bar for some drinks before heading back to our room and gearing up for the big day tomorrow.

Water is scarce in this section of New Mexico so we had planned to fill up at the Beaverhead Work Center. Unfortunately, they had closed for the season a few weeks earlier and the water had been shut off. We continued along the Geronimo Trail Scenic Byway and dropped down to Wall Lake. Here, we were able to refill our water thanks to the hospitality of the Geronimo Trail Guest Ranch, preventing us from being forced to filter water alongside cattle herds from the somewhat stagnant lake.

With darkness approaching, we had a rapid 800 foot descent to the Black Canyon Campground.

We had hoped for a mid-day break and some cold drinks at a convenience store marked on the map, but arrived at the junction of Highway 12 to find nothing. We’re not quite sure where the info on the map came from as we were informed by a local that nothing had ever been at this particular corner.

We continued across the flat grasslands of the Plains of San Agustin, which some people believe were visited by a UFO at the same time as the Roswell sighting. Our route took us very close to the VLA (Very Large Array), the largest radio telescope array in the world, although it was not visible from the trail.

Just before dark, we entered the Gila National Forest and camped for the night, on the lookout for interplanetary visitors.

By daybreak the rain had mostly stopped however, and we crawled out of our bags and over to the Daily Pie for breakfast.  As you might guess, Pie Town prides itself on it’s namesake.  Back in the 1920s, before Pie Town was Pie Town, a man by the name of Clyde Norman began making and selling pies at this little blip along the coast-to-coast US 60.   Eventually, word spread of “Pie Town” and the city was born.  So after our usual breakfast, we indulged in a few pieces of pie - cherry, banana cream and apple crumb.  While talking to the owner of the restaurant, we were informed we unnecessarily slummed it up last night.  Just down the road from where we slept there’s a Continental Divide Trail house, free to use for all CD thru-hikers and GDR riders.  With the bad weather settling in we decided to check it out and evaluate our options.

The house was easy to find, it had toasters strung up around the entrance, giving it the name of The Toaster House.  Originally the home of Nita, Don and their family, the Toaster House was opened to travelers after their family moved into a new home.  Full of knickknacks, old family photos, and notes and cards from past travelers, the house is a treasure trove for a set of starved minds like ours.  The discovery of a small TV (its Saturday after all, so we’re sure there’s some college football) made our decision a lot easier.  We opted to wait out the weather in the comfort of the Toaster House.

The TV was a bittersweet find however.  The house unfortunately didn’t have cable, and all our attempts to fashion an antenna failed to pick up any signals.  That is, until Jeff discovered this particular house sported an external FM tower antenna.  We traced the coaxial cable into the house and connected the TV to the massive tower, allowing us to wait out the storms while enjoying a few college games.

For lunch we headed to the other restaurant in town, the Pie-o-Neer, run by one of the kindest persons we’ve encountered so far, Kathy.  As expected, lunch consisted of more pie, and we even got a pie to go.

Back at the house we did some basic bike maintenance, mainly relating to our recent spout of flat tires.  Jeff and Kelly filled their tires with Slime, which we were able to buy at the only grocery/gas station in town, and Brett did some additional patching on his tubes.

Later in the day we pleasantly surprised by the arrival of fellow GDR riders, Simon and Lucy.  After seeing them last in Salida, they’ve been playing catch-up for the past 10 days.  We shared horror stories about the wind before calling it a night.

To compensate for the excess in wind this land is devoid of any natural water source.  Several farmers have granted cyclists access to their water tanks, which are used solely to provide water to their cattle.  But we have yet to see a cow with an appreciation for clean water, so we’ve decided to steer clear of these legally drinkable, yet non-potable cesspools.  Thankfully, a farmer by the name of John has the right idea, and provides clean, clear well water to passing cyclists for free.  He also stocks dysentary medicine for those who couldn’t resist trying the other water.  After topping off our bottles and talking with John for a bit, we continued into the wind towards Pie Town.  By the time the day was over, we had begun to feel a little bit like Adam Sandler in the Wedding Singer.

Unfortunately, by the time we arrived in Pie Town, the only two restaurants in town were closed and there was no pie to be had. Since there were no hotels in town, we camped under the picnic shelter at the city park, probably our most homeless-type experience to date. We’ve found that throughout the trip, people don’t quite know what to think about us. Occasionally when we pull up to town dirty with our bikes bulging with possessions and ask a local for recommendations on where to stay, we can see them struggling to figure out whether to recommend a hotel or a homeles shelter. In fact, some fellow riders were actually referred to a soup kitchen for a bite to eat. Perhaps the best story we heard was from Ben and Daniel. They overheard a child asking someone why they were carrying all of their stuff on their bikes. The response was classic: “Because they’re poor!”

After yesterday’s arrangement-making session, it seems the Great Divide is punishing us for our hubris. Today, after already having handed us wind and mud, the trail presented us with a new challenge. The road was filled with countless tiny thorns and we were brought to a stop by literally dozens of tiny tire punctures. By the time we finished repairing the leaks, and had all of our tires filled with air it was almost dark. We decided to keep riding until our next flat, at which point we’d stop for the night and set up camp wherever we were. We camped about 100 yards down the road.

We spent the evening patching up tires and tubes, almost to the point of exhausting our tire repair supplies.  Jeff’s tires (tubeless) appear to be almost empty of Stan’s, the fluid meant to seal holes in situations like this.  And Brett is down to just a few spare patches after applying six to his front tire alone.  With only a small number of patches and about two virgin tubes between the three of us we’ll have to especially careful tomorrow to avoid more flats.

One of our first experiences in Grants was being solicited for money by two vagabonds. Being on bikes, and looking the way we do at this point in journey, we found this quite amusing. While there must still be a remnant of discernment between us and them, we’re guessing that line is becoming increasing murky.

Having been on the road for almost two months now and with less than 400 miles to the border, we are all starting to think about the end of the trip. It is bittersweet. On one hand, it will be nice to wake up in a warm bed and not have to bike 50 miles before a convenience store dinner. On the other hand, we have almost complete freedom out here in some amazing country. Our only real worries are pretty basic - food, water, shelter. Despite our anxiousness to get to the border, we have decided to take tomorrow off as our final rest day. We have a pretty remote 260 mile stretch and need to put in some long days to conserve supplies.