We ride in gathering darkness, into a headwind, uphill, out of Silver City on the highway, covering around twenty miles before turning off onto a gravel road. We make a hasty camp without the comfort of a campfire and dive into our tents. It rains during the night and by morning the precipitation has turned to snow. We huddle in the tents until mid-morning hoping the weather will improve, eventually setting off, still into a stiff headwind, this time on heavy wet sand. We are supposed to be losing elevation but whatever downhill gradients might exist are not discernable in these conditions.

Jeff, rugged up against the icy wind, studying notes from an out-of-date guide at an uncertain intersection.

A piece of wood on the ground provides a missing clue that sets us straight.

Our destination is Hachita, some fifty miles away, a virtual ghost town, which none-the-less has a functioning Post Office where Jeff is expecting a food box. We spend all day battling the icy gale and arrive in Hachita at sunset and set up camp beside an old water tower on the outskirts of town.

Water tower on the outskirts of Hachita.

Camp at dawn. Jeff favours a tarp over a tent.

In the morning the sun rises and the wind has dropped. Jeff sets off to the Post Office to get his parcel and spreads out his goodies on a group of picnic tables to organise. I wander the town, checking out abandoned buildings and the detritus of human settlement.

The cafe and store clearly hasn't been open for some time.

An abandoned house.

Love this old bike.

The Saloon is also closed.

The astute reader might have noted that I mentioned that I was meeting three guys in Pie Town and only two have been introduced so far. Jeff’s brother, Jason, is the missing member of the team. He has spent the last couple of weeks visiting a friend who offered him some temporary work in Albuquerque. Jason is intending to rejoin the ride in Hachita and we are also expecting Cass to meet us here in time to cross the border together the tomorrow.

Some time towards mid-afternoon we are all assembled and organised and set off towards the border which is around fifty miles away.

Everybody is finally assembled and almost ready to go. Cass, in the foreground, Jeff, in red, and Jason, in green.

Housekeeping by the side of the road.

Jeff assisting me tweak my gears.

Eventually we set off to cover the 25 kilometres to Silver City with only a couple of hours light to spare. The ride is beautiful but somewhat hillier than expected and darkness falls, yet again, while we are still on the road. A full moon rises as we speed down the highway, blinded by the high beam headlights of oncoming cars. As soon as the sun goes down the temperature plummets and an icy wind is blowing.

When we arrive in Silver City, we have to track down Cass. The library where we had planned to meet is closed but Jeff and I find an internet connection at a local Christian drop-in centre where we discover that Cass has found a bike-friendly household that is willing to accommodate us.

Our home in Silver City for five nights. This household was very tolerant of us colonising the lounge room.

The house is easily identified by the old bikes adorning it's fence.

The house is home to an eclectic range of people, some chickens, a duck, a cat, a dog, and some off-site goats.

A number of household members share a passion for physical theatre and giant puppets. The top floor of the house is given over to a puppet making workshop.

More giant puppets...

... and giant wings.

The following day I visit the local bike shop to find out where I can get my pannier rack straightened and welded. I am directed to Bike Works, a community bike workshop where Dave is said to be the man I need to talk to. Bike Works doesn’t open until late afternoon so I spend the rest of the day exploring Silver City, checking out local cafés and bakeries and utilising the university wi-fi connection.

Silver City has been around for some time. It has been home to such legendary figures as Billy the Kid.

A detail of a mural on the main street. Silver City has a nice relaxed vibe.

At 5PM I head for Bike Works and discover a fantastic community resource. Dave, it transpires, doesn’t work there on Thursdays but Josh is happy to help me in his stead. We leave fixing the rack until tomorrow as Dave, apparently, is the expert welder and I address myself, instead, to finding a wider set of handles bars from the boxes of spares parts available and replacing the brake housing and noodle that were also damaged in my spill. The wider handle bars should give me greater control of my bike on rough surfaces.

I return to Bike Works on Friday to work on my damaged rack. Turbus steel pannier racks are some of the best available. I easily straighten the bent part out in a vice and close inspection reveals what I had thought was a hairline crack in the metal is actually just the protective coating flaking where the metal was bent. A quick spray of paint and the whole thing is as good as new.

Bike Works: a community bike workshop. People can earn themselves a bike by volunteering labour for the number of hours equal to their age. Those older than 18 volunteer a fixed number of hours.

The workshop is beautifully decorated and very well organised.

Yellow bikes are old bikes that are fixed up at Bike Works, which people can borrow free of charge.

These two boys are earning themselves a bike by helping fix children's bikes for a Christmas programme.

Dave shows the youngsters how to replace a chain.

An older boy, from the local Navajo reservation, is working on his own bike that he has earned here at Bike Works.

Taking the bike for a test ride around the workshop.

Jeff and Cass race over the mountain to try to catch the store before it closes at 4.30pm while I follow at a more sedate pace. I arrive just before 5pm to discover the guys deep in conversation with Klara, the manager of the Gila Hot Springs camp site. Jeff had arrived at 4.20pm, ten minutes before the store closed, to find the doors already locked and the store owner not disposed to reopen them despite our dire foodless predicament. Klara, the store owner’s sister-in-law, obviously a far kinder soul has raided her larder to provide us with ground elk meat, pasta and a tin of tomato sauce for Jeff, who is vegetarian. Dinner assured, all that remains is for us to set up camp before submerging cold, tired, aching bodies in natural pools of hot water.

"Here you are!" "You are here!" Read it as you wish. I am pretty glad to be here at Gila Hot Springs.

We ride down to the campsite by the pools and hurriedly put up our tents. I am first in the water and it is only hunger that drives me out a couple of hours later. After a fine elk bolognese with pasta, I am back in the pool until after midnight. The water is warm but the outside temperature is well below freezing. Finally I fall into my tent and sleep but I am up long before the sunlight spills over the rocky bluff to the east and back in the hot water.

Hot water! Pure bliss. Jeff soaking it up.

I could have spent a long long time at the Gila Hot Springs. Photo: Jeff Volk

Lying in the water looking up at the rocky cliffs and rustic wooden structures. Photo: Jeff Volk

Whimsical artworks surround the hot pools at Gila Hot Springs. It was beautiful place in every way.

More art work surrounding the pools. Photo: Jeff Volk

Hot springs.

Warm in the water but still icy out...

...an icy seat waiting for me.

Sadly, I cannot stay soaking in hot water forever. The frosty prospect of packing up an ice encrusted tent lies before me. However, Klara, very kindly, has offered us a lift to the top of the mountain we crossed yesterday and we are all grateful to be spared the prospect of a 2000 foot climb, with severe grades, on our bicycles to get back onto the road to Silver City. We pile our bikes precariously on the back of her husband’s flat bed truck and enjoy the luxury of motorised transport for a short while, feeling that life doesn’t really get much better than this.

The road seems innocuous, certainly no rougher than many of the gravel tracks I have followed since I left the coast, but within an hour of leaving I find myself sprawled on the ground, tangled up with my bike,  panniers strewn untidily about after coming around a corner at speed and hitting a patch of deep sand. It takes me a while to pick myself and the bike up and get back in order. The front pannier rack is seriously bent, the front brakes a mess, my left knee grazed and my right leg is clearly going to be black and blue in a day or so. Cass and Jeff are far ahead and there is nothing much to be done but keep going so that is what I do.

The force of my crash bent my front rack quite seriously but nothing a few zip ties can't fix - at least temporarily.

And the other damage - my bruises after a few days have passed. Photo: Jeff Volk.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully enough. We ride until after dark, trying to cover some ground, before setting up camp beside the road. The next morning we wake to showers of freezing rain.

Leaving Pie Town the clouds are heavy. We pass old ranch buildings.

Cass and Jeff stop for a photo break.

Before too long the predicted snow arrives.

The first flurry of snow. Our friends in Pie Town told us that we would only get a dusting but this looks like it might get serious.

Storm clouds brewing.

It's cold out here...

...and the sky is looking more and more ominous.

The snow is nothing, however – mud is what really slows us down.

Jeff and I have to take our mud guards off and even after this procedure, the only option is to push the bikes on the grass parallel to the road. Photo: Jeff Volk

Jeff's chain snaps under the press and so we take a break for mechanical repairs.

My bike starts to disappear under snow.

My brand new drive chain is already taking a beating.

Snow, overall, is a surface that allows us to make more progress than the mud.

A snowy road is better than a muddy road.

Anna and Cass cycling over the plain. Photo: Jeff Volk.

It is very cold and finding a sheltered place for a lunch break is something of a challenge.

Cass trying to find somewhere a little sheltered to take a lunch break.

Packing up after lunch to set off again.

Cass cycling across the icy plain.

It is slow going, though, and we only make about 30 miles before the sun set and we make camp in a small snowy canyon to the side of the road, building a huge fire to warm us and melt snow to supplement our meagre water supplies. Having company changes the experience of an evening out in the wilderness – there is far more potential for campfire philosophising on topics from the sublime to the banal.

Cold but beautiful. Dawn at camp.

Tents in the snow.

I am still excited by snow and how beautiful it is - despite any discomfort or inconvenience it causes.

Jeff cycling across the snowy field from our canyon campsite.

The next day the road get seriously mountainous. We have three major climbs over mud, snow and ice. Towards the end of the day a man in a pick-up truck passes an hour or two before sunset and warns that a blizzard is heading our way with up to two feet of snow predicted. We try to reach the tarmac but the terrain is difficult and after a few spills in the dark on icy descents with precipitous drops to the side we decide to make camp and leave the matter in the hands of fate. The night is cold but we wake to clear sunny skies. We have a long descent to a tarmac road which leads to the Gila Hot Springs.

Cycling in the forest. Photo: Jeff Volk

Down the hill. Photo: Jeff Volk

An alligator juniper. In between the storms the sun shines and the mountains are a beautiful place to be.

There is no place I'd rather be. Photo: Jeff Volk.

Cycling up the last hill, mid-afternoon, I see three figures with bikes silhouetted at the top. I pull up and the guys check out my bike thoroughly before bothering with any social pleasantries but I presume it passes muster because before long I discover that not only is Thanksgiving totally sorted but we also have a place to stay in Pie Town.

The Toaster House is a free hostel of sorts, a stopping point for hikers and bikers on the Great Divide route, provided by Nita, a ‘trail angel.’ Nita is away but we are welcome to stay, none-the-less. Once the wood burning stove is stoked up the Toaster House is certainly far, far cosier than than camping in the sub-zero temperatures that I have been experiencing out in the forest en route from Flagstaff. Things are looking good.

The next morning Cass, Jeff and I set off on a ride, unburdened by luggage, to a lookout at over 9000 feet on the Great Divide.

A serious climb on a rough track but at least the bicycle is unburdened for once. Photo: Jeff Volk.

Cass admiring the view from the Davenport Lookout.

Cass and Jeff cycling down a canyon.

After a while we manage to lose the road completely.

The sun is going down and Thanksgiving dinner is waiting back in Pie Town.

After a fine adventure we finally get back to Pie Town in time for Thanksgiving dinner at the Pie-o-neer, one of the two cafes that help Pie Town live up to its name. We eat more than seems humanly possible from a largely vegetarian spread – a more or less impromptu feast put on by the management and staff to which we are very warmly welcomed. Desert is pies, of course.

Thanksgiving entertainment.

Jeff and Jason are waiting for the arrival of a box of food at the Post Office and, since it doesn’t arrive the following day, we stay in Pie Town, hanging out at the Pie-o-neer eating pie..

Peeling apples - I am roped into the business of pie production.

Cathy, the force behind Pie-o-neer, showing off a pie, hot from the oven.

Cherry pie.

Pecan oat pie.

In two and a half days in Pie Town, I manage to sample apple pecan pie, pecan oat pie, triple berry pie, peach pie, cherry pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie*. There are quite possibly some that I have already forgotten and I certainly had more than one slice of each. It’s a good thing I’m on cycle tour.

There are no grocery shops in Pie Town and Jeff and Jason’s food box doesn’t turn up. Cass and I don’t have a lot of food either. Things look grim until George, a late season hiker turns up at the Toaster House at 9pm the night before we are due to set off into the wilderness. He has some left over provisions and a food box which does arrive at the Post Office in the morning which he is happy to hand over to our expedition.

Cass and George at the entrance of the Toaster House.

*Cathy was kind enough to give me some of her pie recipes.

PIE-O-NEER PIE CRUST

This recipe is for a cafe and makes 5 crusts. As changing proportions in a recipe is an unpredicatable business, the best option might be to make the full amount and freeze some portions for future use.

• Sift together 5 cups flour, 2 tsps. salt, & 1/2 tsp. baking powder.
• Cut in 1 cup cold butter and 1 cup lard.
• When you have the dry ingredients sufficiently blended w/the butter and lard, slowly incorporate the following:
• (Mixed together) 1 cup cold water, 1 egg (slightly beaten) & 1 TBS. apple cider vinegar.  Usually requires a little more water, added a little at a time.
• With as light a touch as possible, make 5 patties, dust with flour, securely wrap and chill or freeze for use later.

OATS ‘N PECANS (Makes 2 pies)

• Cream together 1 stick of butter (1/2 cup) and 1 cup of sugar.  Add 1 tsp. cinnamon, 1/2 tsp. ground clove, & 1/2 tsp. salt.  Mix well.
• Add 1 cup dark Karo syrup and 1 cup light Karo syrup (Karo syrup is corn syrup – I imagine other sweeteners can be substituted.).  Mix well.
Gently add 6 eggs, 1 at a time, mixing as little as possible to incorporate.

Add 1 cup oats, preferably old-fashioned.

Sprinkle 1 cup toasted pecan pieces on bottom of unbaked pie shell.  Fill with mixture and decorate top w/ pecan halves.

Bake at 180 C or 350 F (slow oven) for 1 hour or until brown and no longer jiggling in middle.

This pie is wonderful with anything you like, substituting for pecans; try walnuts and apples, chocolate chips, coconut, etc.

The most important ingredient in a pie is LOVE :)

Cass and I have been following each others blogs sporadically since we both started cycling in Alaska at around the same time and ever since I heard of the existence of the Great Divide Ride through his blog I wished I’d known about it when I was planning this trip. So when Cass suggests I meet up with him and his friends to try cycling a bit of the Great Dive Ride I can’t say no. I find myself striking out east from Flagstaff across a chilly plateau into New Mexico instead of descending into the warmer southern Arizonan desert.

The journey to Pie Town, largely on tarmac, confirms for me that my heart just isn’t in highway touring. Gravel backroads and remote wilderness areas are what make me happy. Since I’m on a tight schedule I only deviate onto forestry roads for sixty miles of the trip to Pie Town, guessing that once I get there following the Great Divide Ride with three confirmed off-road tourers will probably provide me with all the off-road adventure that I need.