Wind Rider 23/12/2009

It had not been a good night. I'd been up and down like a yo-yo, filling a hole with toxic waste. Those pesky Mexicans had poisoned me with their yummy, spicy food.

I didn't feel good but I had to get on. The border patrol were cruising up and down the road in convoy again and it turned out that my camp was only 10 feet from the road. I was amazed that they still failed to notice me in broad daylight. Not that I was complaining mind you. I could do without the hassle of producing documents and explaining why I was sleeping behind a bush first thing in the morning.

There was another reason to get going. The wind was getting up. It was blowing from the south west and today I was travelling north east.

It was a tail wind, a total result.

In a long distance cycling when the wind blows from behind you ride no matter what. You get up early and you ride all day long. It's payback time for all those days you've pushed on into the wind gritting your teeth and fighting for every yard.

On a tailwind day you can go a long way, like going down hill all day long.

I used the last of my water to make porridge but I wasn't worried. It was only a mile to a service station and restaurant according to my map.

Relieved that breakfast hadn't triggered another explosive episode, I was on my way by 7.30.

When I got to the service-station it was 'Closed for refurbishments'. This was not an ideal situation to say the least. The next water stop was 22miles away in Sierra Blanca and I was already dehydrated.

22 miles it was then, I had better get on with it. At least the sun wasn't out. In fact it was cloudy and grey.

My initial excitement about the tailwind was wearing off. I felt ill; it was dismally cloudy; today's route was on the interstate all day and it was uphill with no water for the first 22 miles.

Grunting my way up a steep section in the hard shoulder, using the lowest gears I was not exceeding 7mph. Meanwhile cars were zooming past at 80. Occasional pit stops were required.

The tail wind didn't seem to be helping. It was all beginning to get me down.

Then one of those things amazing things happened. I found a full bottle of mineral water on the roadside. The seal was intact, a whole litre. What are the chances? My spirits lifted a little.

I made it to Sierra Blanca by 10am, it was practically a ghost town. I found the only store in town, ate and drank all I could and filled up my water.

I went to the gas station for a coffee. They gave it to me for free. Nice.

People were running from their warm cars to into the station building apparently traumatised by the cold winds. To be fair it did seem a lot colder and windier than I had realised, things were blowing about on the forecourt.

Feeling better for eating and gassed up on coffee my drive had returned. The wind was getting stronger, about 30mph, and blowing straight down the highway. Days like this don't come along very often. It was 'Big Wednesday' for cross-country cyclists. I was gonna ride that sucker for all it was worth.

I got back on the freeway and went for it. The road had flattened out now and I was flying. The odometer read 35mph sometimes, even going up little slopes it read 25mph.

Only in the highest gears could I actually make any difference. The bike wanted to go north-east and I was along for the ride. I was was loving it.

The cars and trucks were still rushing past but I was racing too. For the first time it felt right that I should be on the freeway. The miles were flying by.

I entered the central time zone, my third time zone of the trip, but there was no time to stop and photograph the sign. It stared to rain. I didn't care. I wanted to just keep on eating up those miles.

I worked out I was averaging 20-25 mph twice my normal average. I arrived in Van Horn (mile 54) at 11.30, except now it was 12.30 central time.

I had achieved my normal day's mileage before lunch but I didn't want to stop there.

Quickly I refilled the water. I ate 3 burgers and 2 bananas then finished up with another big cup of coffee. I wanted to get back out and ride the wind.

The next stop was Kent, Texas nearly 40 miles down the road, at that point my planned route left the interstate and turned to the south-east. Tomorrow the wind was forecast to blow out of the north- west.

If I got to Kent today I'd be set for another tail-wind day when I crossed the 6,000ft + Davis Mountains. Conversely if I didn't get there I'd have a hard time riding in horrible cross winds.

I figured I could make it. It might only take 2 or 3 hours and I was psyched.

Out on the forecourt things had taken a turn. Strong winds often herald an incoming front and so it was today. It had started to hail, horizontally. The skies were dark and threatening, it was windy and cold. Cars began to turn on their lights, pedestrians ran for cover.

I put on my vest and lights and grinned to myself as I hurried out into it.

"Got to get a move on if I want to cover 40 miles. Got to get back on the wind while it lasts."

I was reminded of the days spent white-water kayaking in Wales. The heavy rainstorms and high winds drive most sensible people to take cover indoors. But crazy river paddlers delight, this is what they've been waiting for, this their time.

Today was my time. Charged up on coffee, I was up for it.

The shoulder was full of puddles. Water sprayed up all over my feet and lower legs.

Not a problem-it doesn't matter if you are wet. So long as you are moving you can keep warm, the wind doesn't chill you if you are riding along with it.

10 miles into it the rain returned, cold hard rain. Then it turned to sleet.

The trucks sprayed me all over as they sped by.

Ahead a pick-up had pulled over onto the shoulder. I was going to have to go around on the grass. I wasn't going near those speeding juggernauts in this. I doubt they could see me at all.

As I passed a lady stuck her head out.
"Do you want a ride?" she asked " This isn't good weather for bicycling."

It threw me initially, I was actually enjoying it. Then I instantly knew the right thing to do.
"Yes, please." I said ," That's so kind of you." It blew my whole day's game plan out of the water.

Once settled in the cab I was slightly confused for a while, all hyped up with no where to go. There was no doubt in my mind however that only an idiot would to turn down this offer of safe passage off the interstate. I do like a challenge, even if I have suffer a little. It makes me feel alive but I like to stay alive too.

As we drove the 30 odd miles to Kent the weather got really bad, heavy snow fell and it began to settle. I was actually a bit scared even in the car. I wondered if we were going to skid on the compacted slush that built up.

As Jess kept the car in the tracks the other vehicles had left I imagined myself cycling through this. A big lorry pulled over onto the shoulder to stop. I could have been on that shoulder, I was so glad I wasn't.

Kent turned out to be a gas station with corner shop between the freeway and the railroad.

The monosyllabic guy working there let me put my tent up on his lawn.

It was a miserable place to camp. The lights of the forecourt stayed on throughout the night. Cross country trains passed hourly all night long, sounding their horns as they went. The roar of the freeway 50 yards away never hushed as people hurried home for Christmas Eve.

Worst of all however, the customers seemed to have been using the lawn as a toilet for both their dogs and themselves. I tried my best to avoid the paper and other offerings as I put up my tent. Then very thoroughly sanitised my hands.

Often on this trip I have wished there was somebody with me to share in it all, a plucky young lady perhaps. Tonight I was glad no one else had to sleep here but me.

It had been a fun day. I had had more than my share of good fortune.

Still as I lay in the rain; in my tent; on my own; surrounded by human and animal waste it was hard to feel glad I had made it this far.