The next to last day of our 2002 trip started at the campground at Red Rock State Park on Route 66 in Gallup, NM. After hiking for an hour or so on the big old red rocks behind the campground that I remember wanting to climb on when I saw them from the back of my folks’ station wagon on trips between California and Oklahoma when I was a kid, Catherine and I packed up and rode into town for a wonderful breakfast at “My Sister’s Place”. We then headed south on Hwy 602 and east on Hwy 53 through the rough high desert country of the Zuni and Ramah Navajo reservations. After a stop at the Bandera Volcano and Ice Cave we rode into Grants, NM just in time to hit a rainstorm that we had been watching in the sky ahead. Little did we know that we would have an exhilarating encounter with that same storm later in the day.
We rode briefly east on I-40, then took Hwy 6 to Los Lunas, and then dropped down on I-25 till we hit Hwy 60 going east. Since noon the temperatures had been hot, but in the dry desert air on the Harleys it was enjoyable riding. As we began to gain altitude in the small mountains to the east it began to cool a little and as we topped the peak at the little village of Mountainair, the temperature dropped a little more. It was about this time that we began noticing the dark clouds of the rainstorm that we thought we had left behind moving closer to us from the northwest.
We dropped back down to the high desert floor and continued on Hwy 60 into the little town of Willard, where a quaint little bar on the east side of town looked inviting, but because the afternoon was wearing away and the ominous dark clouds to our left were getting closer, we rode past after giving each other looks that told each other we both had the same thoughts about the bar. Just east of Willard there are a lot of dry salt ponds and because of the interesting look of them and a roadside park, we pulled over and read the sign about them. We used this stop to don our leathers, as the temperature was cooling a bit and the clouds looked as if they were going to intercept our path.
We straddled the Harleys again and headed east on Hwy 60. We hadn’t decided where to stop for the night, but I had Fort Sumner in the back of my mind, as I kind of wanted to see Billy the Kid’s grave. The highway east of Willard goes east for about 8 miles, then curves back to the northeast for about 10 miles or so, then angles to the east-southeast another 18 miles into Encino. I had no idea at the time, but those next 30 miles were going to be one of the most memorable rides of my life.
The rainstorm was getting closer and we began to feel the wind from it and hear the thunder. The wind was cold and I could imagine how cold the sheets of water we could see dropping from it would be. At times as the road would curve more to the east it looked like we might outrun the storm, then as we curved more to the north there seemed to be no chance that we weren’t going to be right in the middle of it. Never having been on that road before, we had no clue as to how far we would go before we curved another direction, so we gritted our teeth and kept the throttles turned.
There was no traffic, the air was cool, and the bikes were running good. The two-lane blacktop was in good shape, so Catherine and I increased our speed trying to beat the storm. As the clouds got closer, the wind increased and the temperature dropped. We were riding about 80 mph and the sound of the motors purring along and the anticipation of not knowing if we would stay dry or get drenched had my senses alert in a way I haven’t felt very often. The wind increased more and I felt a few cold rain drops as I looked in my mirror and saw Catherine and her Sportster following me but bent into the wind in order to keep a straight line. We turned again and looked as if we would beat the storm, then a mile or so later turned back toward it. I began laughing because by now I was having the ride of my life and didn’t care if we hit the storm or not.
Finally we turned east into Encino and burst out ahead of the storm into sunshine. I slowed down but Catherine pulled up and shook her head and motioned forward. She was afraid the storm would catch up again and she wanted to put more miles between it and us. As we rode on east toward Fort Sumner I looked at the black clouds in my mirror and waved to them. Somehow in that short 35 miles that seemed more like 135 I came to feel like Mother Nature and I had become a lot closer.