The Santa Fe Encampment

September 7, 2013. Saturday. Santa Fe.  The expedition has run into its first serious problem before we have ridden our first mile. The port-a-potty that was supposed to supplement our camp site at the Fort Marcy Athletic Complex has gone walk-about. This shocking turn of events became apparent after we returned from dinner. I just hope we don’t get busted for peeing in the park in the wee hours.

About half of our fellow riders have pitched their tents on the soccer field here at the Fort Marcy complex. Earlier in the day, we met Willard, the father of the Santa Fe trail ride. Willard, who must be pushing 80, uses a certain colorful adjective that begins with a “f” to describe events that are not to his liking. The failure of the port-a-potty contractor brought this phraseology to our attending early in our pre-trip meeting. Tomorrow’s ride may be one of the most difficult. It has the biggest elevation change, and we will have to navigate several miles of Interstate 25 before branching off to the small town of Pecos.

 

Russ and Sheri arrived this afternoon with our bikes. I’ve got mine put together and ready for tomorrow. I think both Steve and Russ are ready, too. The bikes are locked up for the night in the gym so we will not be able to retrieve them until 7 am tomorrow.

 

We’ve already meet several of the 30 or so riders, most of whom look to be in early years of retirement. It’s going to take me awhile to remember names. There is a couple that drove down from Alaska. They left home in July. We met Jeff from Albuquerque, who has a tent set-up that resembles something from Out of Africa, complete with cot. He said he would have put a Persian carpet in it if he could have fit it in his car. “I hate camping,” he told us. We meet Doug and his wife from Whistler, B.C., and Ken, from both Bellingham and Hawaii. There is a pair of Swiss, an older fellow and a young guy, both on Bike Fridays. Ken is also riding a Friday. In fact, I think there are five Fridays on the trip.

 

Prior to meeting up with the group, Steve and I spent a nice afternoon wandering the central plaza, listening to music and munching on Navajo Tacos.

For now, I’m sitting out on the grass in the dark tapping out this message. Besides not having a port-a-potty we have no internet. We’re practically cavemen! I bet Kit Carson didn't have these problems. The music from the Fiesta blasts away. I think it's going to be a long night. I’ll post this tomorrow when we got to Las Vegas and camp at New Mexico Highlands College.