Thirteen miles north of Grants, the paved road turns to dirt and were back in business. It’s around 6 pm, and we decide to start looking for a camp site.
We rode up a rocky forest trail to where the land leveled out just over 9000 ft, and set up camp.
Petty flowers growing way up there.
We eat cheese and crackers for dinner, enjoy the adult beverages we purchased in town, and get a terrific night’s sleep in the crisp mountain air.
The next morning we take our time packing up camp, gearing up, and starting the bikes.
Only mine starts.
The short version of events after that includes much cursing, Clark coasting his GSPD down the rocky trail to the main (gravel) road, my unpacking to get to my tools (and doing some of my own cursing) to remove my skid plate so we can jump his bike. We get his bike started, get my bike all packed up, and his bike stalls and of course won’t re-start. At this point I believe our cursing becomes a chorus.
After TWO trips up the trail with both of us pushing the GSPD, the bike finally catches and as long as we don’t stall it (we don’t), we’re able to ride it back to home base, Albuquerque.
Where we’ve been for several days now troubleshooting, waiting for parts, finding out that said parts don’t fix it, and ordering more spare parts.