Alamosa, CO, to Espanola, NM

We departed Alamosa and rode the flat and rather featureless 28 miles to Antonito, CO, where we had lunch in a non-descript park. Well, some freshly-laid grass and kids playground equipment, along with a few hard plastic seats and tables. Everything around this was dust and dirt.

We then headed west along highway 17 towards Chama, New Mexico. We were planning to get to a campground just inside Rio Grande National Forest, although after reaching the small town of Mogote, seven miles later, we found a very well-run private campground (Mogote Meadows). After 35 miles we had had enough, and the stop allowed Alia to do some work (they had WiFi) and have her regular Monday meeting. And, yes, I got to watch the NFL prime time game.

Highway 17 (pictured, left) is part of the Caminos Los Antiguos, which as you may recall we had been travelling along earlier in the San Luis Valley. From our guide we understood this particular section of the trail was one of the most spectacular bits of pavement in the entire southwest U.S. It didn't disappoint. From the featureless environs just east of Mogote we gradually twisted and turned our way into another stunning valley framed by sheer rock ledges and filled with the heavy yellows of numerous aspen groves. We rejoined the Great Divide Trail at the small town of Horca (we had been off the official trail for six days), at which point the road headed for the heavens - from around 8800ft just west of Horca to 10230ft in 5.5 miles at La Manga Pass, all at 5 per cent grade (or more at times). Throw in a short but sharp thunderstorm along the way (we jumped into a glade of pine trees and pulled the tarp over our head for this) and it was a challenge. The view over the Conejos (Rabbit) Valley, home to various peoples for 8000 years, was surreal. It reminded me of the Megalong Valley in the Blue Mountains near Sydney.

We camped for the night just off the highway, deep in amongst the pine trees at just under 10000ft in altitude. The night was brisk. Four cows in the next grove of trees kept us company, their eyes reflecting back at us each time we pointed our torches in their direction. For some reason we got a real kick out of this. Cows. They make us laugh, whether they're fleeing from us as we approach them on a remote dirt road (for no apparent reason, and usually at the very last moment so you're never sure of which direction they'll head), or just galloping up towards us in order to simply stare at the people on the bikes. Maybe their blank stares aren't symbolic of their lowly stature in the food chain but instead of a genuine concern for our mental health, the weird people on the bikes. Moo.

We had originally planned to head to Chama, in the U.S. state of New Mexico, entirely along pavement. That would mean leaving the Great Divide Trail again, and this time for quite a while. At the turnoff though we changed our minds. The day looked grand, and the offroad trail invited us into yet another aspen-filled valley. So, we left Highway 17 and turned south on Co. Road 117 (CO) and 87 (NM). We knew the dirt/gravel roads in New Mexico were tougher than anyway we had been but we still didn't quite fathom how bad they would get. We entered New Mexico a few miles after leaving the highway and the road surface rapidly deteriorated, from just a rough gravel road to nothing more than a rock-strewn path. And all up some sheer grades; at one point we had to push our bikes for over a mile up to the top of Brazos Ridge, not a pleasant task over rocks you could build a house with.

I do wonder at times why the trail takes us on roads that would otherwise be best left alone. Yes, these very roads more often than not take us to remote places with wonderful vistas. Yet I just can't imagine some of the people I've seen on the trail enjoying these stretches, none least than myself. Back to that fine line between pleasure and pain. You feel weak for seeking to avoid some of these stretches although you simply don't enjoy trudging up yet another bloody goat track - the Great Divide does have a few pavement-based alternative routes within New Mexico, largely due to how bad rain can affect these sections, and I would suggest they should do another one around this part. At least travelling along these alternates you feel like you're not cheating, that you're still part of the 'official' trail.

Rant over, on with the journey.

I feel like I'm getting a tad monotonous describing each new view we encounter. It's difficult describing some of them, they are just that big and grand, so far beyond the human scale. This particular vista was even more special as we could see as far as the section of the Sangre de Christo mountains that backed the Great Sand Dunes National Park, what I would estimate was 60-70 miles away, along with much of the San Luis Valley. Immediately in front of us though was the Cruces Basin Wilderness, a relatively compact valley again generously blessed with the sublime colours of Fall.

After topping out at 11000ft, we spent the afternoon making up time on better surfaces, gliding through think stands of aspen and open fields. Our goal was to get as close to Highway 285 as we expected rain the next day. And rain means impassable roads in these parts, even for high-clearance 4WDs. We ended up rough camping near the Rio San Antonio that evening, a night graced with a cloudless sky and an almost full moon lighting the landscape. The next morning we were greeted with the ominous sight of deep grey crowds moving in from the southwest, not a good sign. We again left the official route and made for Highway 285, which links Antonito (yes, we had almost completed a full circle through the mountains) with Tres Piedres, NM, a 'town' 25 miles away that had the usual collection of depressingly empty and boarded-up shops and gas station. We arrived just before a torrent of water descended from above; we ended up eating our lunch inside the local Post Office. Yet if we thought we had beaten the weather, we were severely wrong. We still had to ride another 31 miles to Ojo Caliente in the south, and we really had no choice - that was our only option for somewhere to stay for the night.

Three miles out from town, and down came the water. Well, not just down, but horizontally...in it came, a fire hose directed straight at us, the people on the bikes. It was hard at times to simply look up, the rain stinging our eyes and faces. On we went, luckily at a good pace due to the relatively flat mesa terrain we were on. Certainly not a preferred experience, instead just another unique set of circumstances we found ourselves in again, one we strangely accepted with a smile on our face for most of the way. We eventually descended into Ojo Caliente at around 4pm, although while the rain eased it was soon back to its soaking best just at the time we went to set up our tent at the excuse of an RV Park at Ojo Caliente Hot Springs Resort. Mud everywhere, a restroom complex that was actually just a couple of toilet-paper deprived and dirty Portaloos, and no shelter whatsoever. This for $23 a night. And all next to the decadent five-star resort that owned the place. Shame Ojo Caliente, shame! I did eventually get some money back after complaining but even then I had to push the manager - he kept agreeing with everything I said but would then just go silent...meaning I had to say I don't just want his words but something more tangible for the poor facilities. Like, MONEY YOU FOOL.

Our Macpac tent held up well considering, with just a bit water seeping in at the time we put it up. Condensation was our worst enemy, a light layer of water coating most things we owned. The next morning's sunshine certainly made us feel a lot better, allowing us to dry out all our wet weather gear and the tent, amongst other items. We spread our gear over three empty sites in an attempt to get as much sun as possible on our gear; three hours later and we were relatively dry again - until we hopped into the very hot pools we had sought out in the first place. Set against a small cliff face were a series of hotpools; two had arsenic in them, another iron, and another soda. All incredibly relaxing, and all welcomed after the previous day's exertions.

That afternoon we descended yet further through another valley to the town of Espanola, 25 miles south. There really isn't much to say about this town, except that it has a few characters that you wouldn't want to meet in a floodlit alley let along a dark one. As one resident we met described the town, it's ghetto man, ghetto. But it serves our purposes well. We're well and truly off the Great Divide trail now - it heads west through the towns of El Rito, Abiquiu and Cuba, and onto Grants. We plan instead to head south to Bandalier National Monument tomorrow (Monday Sept 27), and then travel along what is meant to be another spectacular roadway, that of highway 4 to Albuquerque via San Ysidro and Bernalillo. I expect we'll meet up with the Great Divide trail again in El Malpais National Monument, to the west of Albuquerque. That's after a McMullen becomes a Parker.

Until then, take care, and thanks for all of your best wishes on our impending nuptials.