Today was a day of contrasts. Like the two-faced god Janus, there was one type of day before the 2nd snack stop and a completely different day after it. We left Gallup and the El Rancho Motel via the famous Route 66 just as the sun beamed over low mountains, and rode past sandstone formations that looked like giant blobs of brown and red silly putty. The wind was mostly at our backs and some of the roads were the best we'd seen. The road was such a smooth delight that one of our riders joked that he was going to call his wife and tell her to load up up the wagon because he'd found the promised land. We crossed the Continental Divide once amid sandy hills and scruffy pines while effortlessly making 20+ mph.
But shortly before the 2nd stop, we turned north and our tail wind became a blustery side wind that claimed our attention just to stay on the small, smooth strip of tarmac and out of harm's way. We had to be on guard every second with the wind hitting 35 mph in some places. But the view was still quintinssential New Mexico: low sandy bluffs, land that stretched out in every direction for many miles, dry washes that you knew could fill with flash floods in minutes, and hardly any settlements, houses, or cars.
Our lunch was at a Conoco gas station where Susan cooked up bow-tie pasta with basil, and many lucky ones got grilled chicken as well. After lunch, though, we had more than 50 miles of windy riding--never a straight headwind, but always a challenging blast from our left. Windy rides are always mental, as well as physical, challenges. It seems like the wind whips away positive attitudes as easily as it takes away drips of sweat. When we topped the last hill to Farmington, we had a 4-mile descent into town, which should have been a highlight. Instead, a stiff headwind forced us to pedal to maintain any speed at all.
When we got to the hotel, though, we learned of a new PAC Tour member. Just before lunch, Lon found a small puppy by the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. He carried it in his jacket to lunch and Viola! Rebecca (Susan and Lon's daughter) had a puppy and we added Bisti to the roster.
A "rest day" in the middle of PAC Tour is almost unheard of, but this was today. It was only 60 miles and mostly downhill. Much of the day was a side wind, but not anything like yesterday.
We started today with small American flags for everyone, courtesy of Janet Finfrock; after all, this was Flag Day. We looked like the strangest Fourth of July parade I'd ever seen. And we got to sing happy birthday to one of our German rider, Michael Wiegand (probably a first for him as well). A while after the start, Michael rode up to our group. He is a strong, gregarious rider with an equal measure of politeness and consideration. He struck up a conversation to ask about the significance of the flags--after all the day was his birthday as well. I told him about Flag Day being a minor holiday--not anything like the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, etc. He then told me a story of why he remembers this day as a special cycling day. I learned that today is also the day that he went on a ride across France with an international group of 300 a few years ago. It was a 10th anniversary ride called Vive Patton to remember the arrival of German troops into Paris, which happened on June 14. Michael said a French friend called and invited him, but he was hesitant and commented it might not be a good idea, him being German. His friend said it would be ok because those were not Germans, those were Nazis. Michael said he went and it was one of his best experiences. Everywhere, he said, the townspeople turned out, cheering and shouting encouragement. Townspeople put up the riders in gymnasiums, local restaurants catered food and drink, and there was a police escort the entire trip. All the way across France, he was part of a group of cyclists and French who were celebrating the building of international relationships.
At our second rest stop, Lon took individual photos and some of us chose a somewhat shorter, alternate route. This route wound through green countryside and narrow canyons with swooping descents. Others on the regular route also were rewarded with a big downhill, with some riders topping 50 mph. Before we knew it, we were cruising through the town of Durango. Our lunch was at the hotel parking lot and was topped off by German chocolate cake and ice cream. We arrived before the rooms were ready, so we ate and kibitzed and took exploratory rides through town. The evening would be for more exploring or resting for tomorrow, which is only 115 miles, but has the most climbing of any day.