Snowstorms and Hunger Pains

I love to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. It’s much easier to do when you are dining by yourself because there isn’t someone distracting you from the interesting chatter happening nearby. In this case, my guilty pleasure likely saved me a great deal of discomfort. I overheard a couple of cow farmers discussing the oncoming blizzard in a few days. I perked up because this was the first time I heard of it. Cell service had been spotty for a while and there aren’t exactly any big signs that give a 7-day weather forecast on the side of the road in New Mexico. I’m glad I heard about this when I did because I had just begun my ascent over the Continental Divide. For the next few days, I’d be riding almost exclusively uphill with only a few small towns that I’d be passing through. Had I not known about the oncoming snowstorm, I could have ended up being trapped in the middle of nowhere with white-out conditions.

I checked the downloaded maps that I had on my phone and saw that there was a small town called Hillsboro about a half-day ride from me. I figured I could make it into town and hunker down for a few days to wait out the storm. According to Google, there was a small county store, a bed and breakfast, and a motel in town. I got back on the road after paying for my meal and began riding in that direction, eager to make it before sundown. Along the way, there were beautiful views of the mountains I would soon have to ride over. The picturesque scenery almost made me forget about my battle with the wind. Almost.

Hillsboro was hardly a town. I came blasting around the corner after an exhilarating descent through the pass that I had been riding and was greeted by a few rundown houses that marked the outer limit of the town. Pressing forward down the road, I expected to see some development into something a bit more built-up. However, that didn’t happen. The motel was in shambles and looked as if it had been vacant for years. The county store was locked and the bed and breakfast had no answer when I knocked on the door. Since the day was nearing its end, I began weighing my options. I was sitting on the steps of the rundown motel expecting to have to spend a very cold and uncomfortable night in the tent. Suddenly, a car pulled up in front of me.

“Are you looking for a place to stay?” came a voice from the vehicle. I glanced at my bike, and then at the woman behind the wheel.

“What gave it away?” I asked with a smile.

“There is a room open in the motel, you can book it on Air BNB!” Suddenly it made sense. The lobby looked as if it hadn’t been used in years because it really hadn’t. The entire motel was being run off of Air BnB. I wish there was some signage to notify me. Had the kind woman not stopped, I would have never known.

“Great, I’ll do that!” I called back. The car began to creep forward and the window started rolling back up.

“One more thing,” the woman yelled after abruptly stopping her car, “there is no food in Hillsboro until Friday! Good luck!”

I’m glad she said that, because I didn’t read the sign dangling from the doorhandle in the county store that clearly read “Operating hours: Friday and Saturday 4-6 PM”. The town was so small that everyone could do their shopping for the week in those 4 hours. Unfortunately for me, it was a Tuesday night and I only had one can of chili and half a dozen gas station oatmeal cookies in my food sack. That wasn’t going to get me to Friday, no way.

There was only one reasonable plan that I was able to come up with. I would spend the night in Hillsboro, down my can of Chili, and save the oatmeal cookies for the morning. I was going to have to ride 60 miles to Silver City the following day. The distance wasn’t all that alarming. I had been averaging close to 90 miles per day at that point. What was nerve-racking was the fact that I would be fighting a headwind, climbing 5,000 more feet over the Continental Divide through Emory Pass, and trying to make it into town before the oncoming blizzard that was forecasted in the afternoon. Plus, I needed to find some food somewhere along the way because those six oatmeal cookies were not going to be enough.

I made it into Silver City just as the first flurries began to fall. The day was spent riding through one of the most scenic roads I had ever traversed. It was hard, but the views made it worth it. After checking into my Motel 6 for the next two days, I crossed the street and spent nearly 35 dollars at McDonald’s on a meal that could have easily fed three people, only it was just for me. Time to lay low and wait out the storm.