Santa Fe to Las Vegas

Being well ahead of schedule we were able to spend a few hours sightseeing  around Santa Fe.  Definitely a place to come back to (and skiing in the mountains to boot!). 

We left the mountains behind and cantered towards  Alberquerque on our three steeds.  (I never did understand what Prefab Sprout were singing about  in their song of the same name). There  we find a quaint old town, some miles away from the modern high rise centre, heavily influenced by the Spanish with hacienda type buildings.

Still in New Mexico, we then have the opportunity to visit one of the longest continually inhabited indian settlements, populated since the 12th century.   Aptly named Sky City, the town sits upon a huge, flat, sandstone mesa and has neither electricity nor running water to this day.

With the light fading fast, we drive in the dark (again) towards our overnight destination, Grants - a old uranium mining town.  The town is rough and ready yet you are lured by the neon signs of the motels boasting Paradise Beach, Deluxe Inn, Silver Sands.  The reality hits you once you step inside the rooms.

Into Arizona, the penultimate State on Route 66 and one that we thought would be the hottest.  The weather is deteriorating fast and we dodge the showers and take a detour through the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert.  The scenery is vast and amazing, but we press on to avoid the worst of the thunderstorms and flash floods forecast for that evening.

We spend the night in Wimslow, where the highlight is a bronze statue of a man "standing on the corner in Wimslow, Arizona"   immortalised by the Eagles.  There are huge thunderstorms overnight and it is pouring with rain.  We have no choice but to take the Interstate where the wash from the passing trucks makes  progress very dangerous and very slow.  Chris is suffering as he has an open face helmet and sunglasses (which prove useless in the rain).  I am suffering since I have a visor on my helmet and a screen on the bike (neither of which has wipers on), so am looking through two very wet screens trying to see the road.  Bert is suffering but does not make a fuss - guess he is made of stronger stuff than us younger fairweather bikers. We make Flagstaff, a very nice university town, without mishap and manage to dodge the afternoon storm showers.  Wet through, despite our waterproofs, it has been the worst day on the bikes for all of us.

With the sun shining the following day, we head towards the Grand Canyon West Ranch for the next of our rest days.  Getting there proves quite a challenge as we have to take the Harleys over 7 miles of dirt road.  Now anyone who has ever driven a bike knows that you need a trials bike on such terrain, not a heavy bike that sways massively as you go over each bump.  The road is rutted and stony.  After about five miles, we come upon a steep rutted decline with two sharp bends, one at the start and one at the end.  Bert stumbles at the top but manages to just about save the bike from going over.  On the way down, I hit a huge pothole, the bike sways from side to side, losing its balance and both me and the bike fall headfirst down the road.  No massive injury to me but a few more scratches to the bike, we set the bike upright and start off again.  I manage to take another tumble again at the entrance to the ranch, this time ending up head first in a stream. 

The ranch is a working ranch that raises long horn cattle for the rodeos.  It sits about 10 miles from the west point of the Grand Canyon and is therefore a great stopping point for a bit of R&R and a helicopter flight over the canyon.  We go for a sunset horse ride and then watch the cowboys for a while.  A BBQ supper is followed by a campfire singsong under the stars. We spend the first night in a tepee (all three of us on one tent with Bert on a campbed - very funny) and then move to a slightly more comfortable cabin (with shower and toilet) for the second night. Up early on Monday, we head off in old cowboy Sam's pickup, down a dirt road to shoot some guns.  It has been one of Chris's dreams to shoot a Colt 45 and we spent an ear shattering hour shooting at Joshua trees with pistols and rifles.  Not something that was offered as part of the accommodation, we tip Sam heavily for the use of his guns. Only on the way back do we find out from him that he has spent 19 years in jail for killing a guy with his bare hands.  In hindsight, perhaps not someone you would choose to take you into the desert to shoot guns.

We leave the tranquility of the ranch and head over the Hoover Dam towards Las Vegas.