Albuquerque

I don't know if it was all those Bugs Bunny cartoons, but I always thought this would be a great place to see. 

I caught a ride from Monticello to Albuquerque, it was a windfall. The Colorado southern mountains were snowy and breathtaking in the moonlight. New Mexico was a whole new world. I could bicycle around without gloves on! I broke a sweat easily. It was a lot like Southern California. The high rolling hills right before the base of the mountain had a Camarillo feel to it. Life was sweet. A few moments later, I was caught in a warm (emotionaly and weather-wise) scene, at 6500 feet. Cactus, saw palmetto and shrubbery held the orange hue of the painted sunset, while the filaments on knee-high grass danced and swayed. The mountainside to the northeast was touched with light, and I was too. Life was grand! 

I would spend three days in the Sandia foothills. Monday was nothing but beautiful rest. Sunshine hot on my face. Sweating in the sleeping bag. Cozy sweat smells and nylon and polyester feel. A modest though steady wind throughout. And of course sunsets are always bright. My last NM sunset brought thin pinkish clouds whisping across the full moon. The sight was short, a final farewell. I spent some of my last daylight digging my hands in the grasses where the road met the dirt, and powder would flick out as I removed my hands. Goodness it was dry. The ride to the Greyhound was anything but enjoyable. What should have been a little over an hour took almost three. The angst began as I descended into a wash that, after half-an-hour of dragging through loose riverbed gravel, ended in a dam that I had to drag my 60-pound loaded bicycle up and over. Next came goatheads. And I was lost, I couldn't believe it. Slowly my front tire would lose air and from time to time I'd have to fight the bicycle from tipping sideways to take it off and pump I up. The bicycle paths were intermittently bumpy and caused air loss with each pavement crack. Eventually, a mere mile and a half from the station, our brave front tire could hold no air. I didn't realize how quickly I could change a tire! I had to make that bus!

I had no difficulty parting with that bicycle. A gift from the wind, just as easily returned. By time I got to the greyhound station, it had given me such and aching body and mind that I was happy to part with it. Time to save up for a new one. My new life has begun. Morning walks to mother's, sleeping in the thick grass under the warm Charleton stars, redoing all those lonesome downtown things, now all again, but alongside a new friend.