Hello readers! You last left your intrepid travellers arriving in Santa Rosa and bedding down for the night. We shall now greet you with the bright desert sun and blue sky of morning and the hideous case of bedhead that comes with such epic adventures as this!
After getting some shut-eye following our mad dash across the country to Santa Rosa from Waynesville, we awoke slowly and groggily to a bright and beautiful New Mexico morning. As we got cleaned up, dressed and loaded our bikes back up, we conversed about our plans for the day.
The first stop of the day was right there in Santa Rosa at the Blue Hole. From there we would push to Grants to go see the Bandera Caldera and the Ice Cave. the land of Fire and Ice as they call it. From there we would ride to Old Santa Fe following a nice twisty and turny route that Matt had plotted out for us.
Before all that could start, though, we needed breakfast, so off to the motel lobby/office we went. We chatted and wolfed down the provided breakfast foods with yours truly snagging a second helping of the wonderful "Army DFAC style" scrambled eggs. We then talked for a few minutes with the gal at the desk to get directions to the Blue Hole and try and figure out where we'd be able to secure a couple of Santa Rosa post cards to send to folks back home. Once our bill was paid and we had checked out we saddled up and motored on to the Blue Hole!
The Blue Hole is an 81 foot deep spring in Santa Rosa New Mexico that has water so clear that you can almost see the bottom and a color so wonderfully rich and blue (hence the name) that you can't help but marvel at it. If we'd allowed ourselves more time, I more than likely would have jumped in much like several other visitors did.
The blue hole is open to the public for swimming as well as snorkel and scuba diving. You can see some of the floats and other structures in the water that are set up for divers in the photos.
From the Blue Hole, we began our slog to Grants, NM. Our destination there in Grants was the Bandera Caldera and Ice Cave.
Our journey to the Grants area began rather uneventfully. We motored our way down the interstate to the West when all of the sudden we found ourselves sitting in a traffic jam caused by a tractor trailer accident further up the road. Matt and I spent some time trying to assess what was going on and how long things would take but when the folks around us began to shut off engines, we did the same and hopped off our bikes. That is when everyone else started to get out of their vehicles.
Once we saw the extent of things we began to look at our options. We were losing precious time traveling in the direction that we needed to go by being stuck in the traffic and we needed to get moving if we wanted to be able to get into our destination for the night at a respectable time. So out came the google maps and our heads went on a swivel and we came up with a plan of action. You see, our answer, or at least part of it anyhow, was staring us right in the face off to our left. There was a perfectly good, unblocked stretch of highway off to our left! Sure, traffic might be going in the opposite direction but hey, sometimes to go forward you gotta back-track a tad. That is exactly what we decided to do. We scoured the median for a good bit of dirt that was free from debris and ruts and anything else that could hem us up in our crossing and we rolled across it and headed back the way we came.
We had found that there was a route that would rout us around to the overpass and exit system that was literally just past the accident and getting to that would allow us to continue on in the direction we needed to go. So round about we went on our merry way! Once we got to the overpass they had just started letting traffic through and we were able to get a jump on things from where our original position was.
Our next stop was the Bandera Caldera and Ice Cave near Grants, NM. Grants would ultimately prove to be our furthest point traveled west. The Bandera Caldera was an active volcano some hrrrummghhcough years ago that had since gone dormant. It's cone filling in with sediment from weathered rocks and debris and it's various lava tubes collapsing and filling in. The result is a somewhat recognizable form of a crater filled with trees and volcanic sediment and rock.
This results in the image you
see here to the right of this section. It's a neat view from above and rather impressive to think about the fact that where you are standing was once a fiery volcano spewing forth lava, superheated gasses, ash and debris.
One of the collapsed lava tubes has managed to develop and maintain a
healthy amount of ice inside of it. The entire back wall of the chamber
used to be covered with ice but due to people chipping pieces off over
the decades that wall has dwindled down to just about nothing. Basically it works like this: Thousands or hundreds of years ago, the volcano went dormant, the lava tube collapsed and then rain water, run off, and water seeping down through the rock worked it's way into the chamber and during a period of extreme cold, the water in the cave opening froze and the floor and the walls were coated in a layer of ice. As things warmed back up the ice inside the cave was shielded from the heat outside thanks to the insulating properties of the volcanic rock around it and due to cold air settling. The temperature in the cave itself stays at a fairly constant 31 degrees year round and ice continues to form in there due to run off, rain, and seepage working it's way in. Apparently it takes about a year for the water that does make it's way in to freeze completely and some of that water is lost to evaporation and some of the ice is lost due to sublimation (which is the same thing that leaves you with an ice tray of weird misshapen ice cubes in the back of your freezer, you know the one that you filled three years ago when Aunt Mable and your mom came by for that surprise visit to see whether or not you were living in complete squalor. Yeah, you know the time I'm talking about...). Due to these factors the amount of ice in the cave stays fairly constant from year to year and thanks to measures taken to prevent visitors from damaging the ice the amount hasn't reduced and in some areas of the cave it would appear that it might be increasing again.
When Matt and I had reached the bottom of the staircase that wound it's way down to the Ice Cave we were greeted by a delightfully pleasant coolness to the air that wrapped us in a shroud of relief from the dry heat that had assaulted us while on the road and climbing to the top of the caldera. It was heavenly. It was soothing. It was welcoming, and it made you want to linger longer and longer even though what you see is what you get with the ice cave and there wasn't any further to explore than the observation platform.
Matt requested that we try to spend a few moments in as much stillness and silence as possible. After getting ourselves situated to where we minimized movement and the creaking of leather jackets and riding gear, the silence settled in.
We listened to the sound of nothing. No cars or planes or chirping birds were to be heard. No jingle and buzz of cell phones or the clacking of keys and shuffle of papers resonated through the air. Not even the sounds of the nature that surrounded the entrance made their way to us. All that was to be heard was the sound of actual silence with the thread of a hum in our ears from the hours of wind rushing by our heads on the highway.
The sound, or rather that absence of sound, was amazing, it was immense and enveloping. It was for brief moments almost uncomfortable. There in that immense lack of auditory nothingness, we both had a very similar thought and Matt spoke, breaking the silence and muttering the idea that had been filling our minds: "I haven't heard this kind of silence in a long time..." I chuckled and agreed. It had been a very long time since I had experienced a silence like that. Not since I was a kid growing up in North Alabama on a scouting trip and was very deep into a cave system that went for possible miles into the mountains and bedrock of the most southern portion of the Appalachian mountains. It was mystifying, beautiful and unsettling all at once. It is during moments like this when you find yourself realizing just how much the world
that we live in is a cacophony of sounds assaulting our senses.
We started back up the wood and steel staircase that had originally led us
down to the cave and headed back down towards our bikes. Matt stopped along the
way to watch a couple of feral kittens wrestle and play in the underbrush
before continuing on to where we had parked.
We scoped out the gift shop where we paid for our tickets and guide map
to check out the caldera and the ice cave to see if we could find anything for
our families and then we saddled back up and rolled onward.
We stopped for gas in Grants before heading on to Santa Fe and we stretched our tanks as far as we could before filling up again just outside of the city and our second overnight stop at a KOA campsite outside the old city. We ran into a spot of worry on the way back when I noticed that my bike was lacking power on uphill grades and I would start dropping speed from 75-80mph to almost 60mph until cresting the top of the grade and starting down the other side, nor could I get the bike to rev over 3000rpms. We pulled off at a rest area and I got off the bike to do a visual inspection looking for leaks or frayed connections. After finding nothing I turned the bike back on and the gas light came on. It appeared that my tank was low enough that on an incline fuel pick up by the pump was impeded by the fact that the fuel was gathering towards the back of the tank. We eased our way at 60mph to the next gas exit in towards Santa Fe and topped off. No more issues after that fuel stop and we continued into the KOA campsite. After a little confusion with paperwork and the office being closed as well as some fumbling with the door to our modest cabin, we settled in and located a place to eat down in Old Town Santa Fe.
We scouted out a table and sat down heavily. The fatigue from the day’s ride creeping up on us with a bit more fervor than it had when we got to the KOA cabin. We perused the menus that our server brought us and made our decisions. What arrived at our table and crossed our pallets was nothing short of pure deliciousness. The Chicken enchilada that I ordered was amazing. Nothing was overdone or over seasoned and every bite you could tell that the ingredients were fresh and not some sort of prepackaged hodgepodge of things. Matt savored his dish just as much as I did. It had been a while since food had tasted so good. I guess the road has a way of doing that to things. When you’re hot, tired and hungry like the devil you haven’t eaten since breakfast, flavors, smells and textures have a way of intensifying when you finally get a chance to eat.
The sound was fantastic, mesmerizing even. The four ladies singing and playing enchanted us with their voices and the music they played. A younger woman in her twenties on violin had a voice that was like a clarion bell. Every note, every pitch rang with a perfection that simply amazed and she carried it even when giving a vibrato to her voice. It was simply amazing. The tiniest of the four on the other end played guitar and sang with a power that came from somewhere deep inside and grabbed you by the arm and drug you in to experience the music. You couldn’t help but want to hear more. The silver trumpet of the trumpeter and the deep resonance of the bass guitarist completed the sound and gave the music the ability to be experienced in a way that was almost tactile in nature.
Once the group finished up we began to make our way back to our motorcycles chattering away about the vocals that we both so very much enjoyed and with one of the songs they performed still stuck in our heads. We were almost there when we were approached by a guy asking for money. OK, so I am not one to simply judge panhandlers. For whatever reason, whether you really truly are in need of money due to a situation you’ve been thrust into by events beyond your control, have no job, are a street performer trying to make a little extra scratch or you are making some sort of statement regarding generosity and the lives of excess that many folks lead, you have your reasons. All I ask, is that you be honest, genuine, and if at all possible, professional about it.
This particular individual was… well he wasn't horrible about things, but he certainly wasn't any of the above mentioned things.
His “sly” approach to us as we strolled past his location was one that immediately set the hairs on the back of my neck to trying to stand on end. He pulled into stride with our walk coming in from our left and slightly behind us. He opened up with the usual “excuse me but I was wondering if you might be able to help me out” sort of statement. When I glanced at him from my peripheral I noted that he was shorter in stature than myself or Matt, had a tanned complexion, closely cropped hair on his head and his face and was wearing an over-sized white t-shirt and jean shorts that hung low on his waist and extended below his knees. He matched our gait and began his story. His pitch, if you will.
He said that his daughter was sick and that she had been in the hospital for the past three days because she couldn't swallow. He needed to get a prescription of “rubinol” for her from Walgreen's that cost somewhere in the ball park of $46.00 and he currently only had $38.00 on hand, which he held out for us to see so that it would hopefully lend credibility to his tale. He then began to offer up his name and his ID for proof and stated that he wasn't on anything and he had not been drinking or anything like that and just needed to make up the difference between the $38 bucks he had and the $46 it was going to cost to get the prescription for his kid.
Now, I’m not an insensitive prick and neither is Matt. I have two children of my own and I would gladly be out on the street begging for money or help if that’s what I had to do to ensure that they were taken care of and safe, but sometimes your gut kicks in and things don’t all quite add up when you put them together.
When we reached our motorcycles he continued his pitch. I did not have any actual cash on my person and Matt, as he would later explain it, would have only $20.00 bills on him so sparing a few bucks so this guy could go get his fix, er I mean something to eat, er I mean the rubinol for his kid. So we told the guy that we seriously couldn't help him. He got visibly irritated and then asked us if we had a cigarette at least since he was so stressed out. I told him that I could help him out there and I reached into my jacket and after a brief moment I produced the crumpled and sweat soaked pack of Lucky Strikes that was in my inside coat pocket and handed them to him. He thanked me and then proceeded to tell Matt some spiel about how because I helped him he would gladly help me any day any time, but because Matt didn't give him any money or try to do something to assist or ease his situation that he couldn't say the same about him. Matt and I just looked at each other as he walked off with that shared expression of "WTF was up with that dude?"
I wished him luck in trying to get things for his kid squared away and he said thanks. We saddled up on the bikes and headed back to the KOA campground and our diminutive cabin there to rest up for our next day's adventures!
Stay tuned for Day 3 as well as more photos from the actual road itself!!!
After getting some shut-eye following our mad dash across the country to Santa Rosa from Waynesville, we awoke slowly and groggily to a bright and beautiful New Mexico morning. As we got cleaned up, dressed and loaded our bikes back up, we conversed about our plans for the day.
The first stop of the day was right there in Santa Rosa at the Blue Hole. From there we would push to Grants to go see the Bandera Caldera and the Ice Cave. the land of Fire and Ice as they call it. From there we would ride to Old Santa Fe following a nice twisty and turny route that Matt had plotted out for us.
Before all that could start, though, we needed breakfast, so off to the motel lobby/office we went. We chatted and wolfed down the provided breakfast foods with yours truly snagging a second helping of the wonderful "Army DFAC style" scrambled eggs. We then talked for a few minutes with the gal at the desk to get directions to the Blue Hole and try and figure out where we'd be able to secure a couple of Santa Rosa post cards to send to folks back home. Once our bill was paid and we had checked out we saddled up and motored on to the Blue Hole!
 |
| Matt and I standing in front of the sign at the Blue Hole. Selfies sort of turned into a kind of a thing for us while on this trip. |
The blue hole is open to the public for swimming as well as snorkel and scuba diving. You can see some of the floats and other structures in the water that are set up for divers in the photos.
 |
| Someone somewhere along the line decided it would be spiffy to introduce Koi to the blue hole... |
From the Blue Hole, we began our slog to Grants, NM. Our destination there in Grants was the Bandera Caldera and Ice Cave.
Our journey to the Grants area began rather uneventfully. We motored our way down the interstate to the West when all of the sudden we found ourselves sitting in a traffic jam caused by a tractor trailer accident further up the road. Matt and I spent some time trying to assess what was going on and how long things would take but when the folks around us began to shut off engines, we did the same and hopped off our bikes. That is when everyone else started to get out of their vehicles. Once we saw the extent of things we began to look at our options. We were losing precious time traveling in the direction that we needed to go by being stuck in the traffic and we needed to get moving if we wanted to be able to get into our destination for the night at a respectable time. So out came the google maps and our heads went on a swivel and we came up with a plan of action. You see, our answer, or at least part of it anyhow, was staring us right in the face off to our left. There was a perfectly good, unblocked stretch of highway off to our left! Sure, traffic might be going in the opposite direction but hey, sometimes to go forward you gotta back-track a tad. That is exactly what we decided to do. We scoured the median for a good bit of dirt that was free from debris and ruts and anything else that could hem us up in our crossing and we rolled across it and headed back the way we came. We had found that there was a route that would rout us around to the overpass and exit system that was literally just past the accident and getting to that would allow us to continue on in the direction we needed to go. So round about we went on our merry way! Once we got to the overpass they had just started letting traffic through and we were able to get a jump on things from where our original position was.
Our next stop was the Bandera Caldera and Ice Cave near Grants, NM. Grants would ultimately prove to be our furthest point traveled west. The Bandera Caldera was an active volcano some hrrrummghhcough years ago that had since gone dormant. It's cone filling in with sediment from weathered rocks and debris and it's various lava tubes collapsing and filling in. The result is a somewhat recognizable form of a crater filled with trees and volcanic sediment and rock.
This results in the image you
see here to the right of this section. It's a neat view from above and rather impressive to think about the fact that where you are standing was once a fiery volcano spewing forth lava, superheated gasses, ash and debris.
One of the collapsed lava tubes has managed to develop and maintain a
healthy amount of ice inside of it. The entire back wall of the chamber
used to be covered with ice but due to people chipping pieces off over
the decades that wall has dwindled down to just about nothing. Basically it works like this: Thousands or hundreds of years ago, the volcano went dormant, the lava tube collapsed and then rain water, run off, and water seeping down through the rock worked it's way into the chamber and during a period of extreme cold, the water in the cave opening froze and the floor and the walls were coated in a layer of ice. As things warmed back up the ice inside the cave was shielded from the heat outside thanks to the insulating properties of the volcanic rock around it and due to cold air settling. The temperature in the cave itself stays at a fairly constant 31 degrees year round and ice continues to form in there due to run off, rain, and seepage working it's way in. Apparently it takes about a year for the water that does make it's way in to freeze completely and some of that water is lost to evaporation and some of the ice is lost due to sublimation (which is the same thing that leaves you with an ice tray of weird misshapen ice cubes in the back of your freezer, you know the one that you filled three years ago when Aunt Mable and your mom came by for that surprise visit to see whether or not you were living in complete squalor. Yeah, you know the time I'm talking about...). Due to these factors the amount of ice in the cave stays fairly constant from year to year and thanks to measures taken to prevent visitors from damaging the ice the amount hasn't reduced and in some areas of the cave it would appear that it might be increasing again. When Matt and I had reached the bottom of the staircase that wound it's way down to the Ice Cave we were greeted by a delightfully pleasant coolness to the air that wrapped us in a shroud of relief from the dry heat that had assaulted us while on the road and climbing to the top of the caldera. It was heavenly. It was soothing. It was welcoming, and it made you want to linger longer and longer even though what you see is what you get with the ice cave and there wasn't any further to explore than the observation platform.Matt requested that we try to spend a few moments in as much stillness and silence as possible. After getting ourselves situated to where we minimized movement and the creaking of leather jackets and riding gear, the silence settled in.
We listened to the sound of nothing. No cars or planes or chirping birds were to be heard. No jingle and buzz of cell phones or the clacking of keys and shuffle of papers resonated through the air. Not even the sounds of the nature that surrounded the entrance made their way to us. All that was to be heard was the sound of actual silence with the thread of a hum in our ears from the hours of wind rushing by our heads on the highway.
The sound, or rather that absence of sound, was amazing, it was immense and enveloping. It was for brief moments almost uncomfortable. There in that immense lack of auditory nothingness, we both had a very similar thought and Matt spoke, breaking the silence and muttering the idea that had been filling our minds: "I haven't heard this kind of silence in a long time..." I chuckled and agreed. It had been a very long time since I had experienced a silence like that. Not since I was a kid growing up in North Alabama on a scouting trip and was very deep into a cave system that went for possible miles into the mountains and bedrock of the most southern portion of the Appalachian mountains. It was mystifying, beautiful and unsettling all at once. It is during moments like this when you find yourself realizing just how much the world
that we live in is a cacophony of sounds assaulting our senses.
We stopped for gas in Grants before heading on to Santa Fe and we stretched our tanks as far as we could before filling up again just outside of the city and our second overnight stop at a KOA campsite outside the old city. We ran into a spot of worry on the way back when I noticed that my bike was lacking power on uphill grades and I would start dropping speed from 75-80mph to almost 60mph until cresting the top of the grade and starting down the other side, nor could I get the bike to rev over 3000rpms. We pulled off at a rest area and I got off the bike to do a visual inspection looking for leaks or frayed connections. After finding nothing I turned the bike back on and the gas light came on. It appeared that my tank was low enough that on an incline fuel pick up by the pump was impeded by the fact that the fuel was gathering towards the back of the tank. We eased our way at 60mph to the next gas exit in towards Santa Fe and topped off. No more issues after that fuel stop and we continued into the KOA campsite. After a little confusion with paperwork and the office being closed as well as some fumbling with the door to our modest cabin, we settled in and located a place to eat down in Old Town Santa Fe.
Old Town Santa Fe. Wow, what can I say? This place is fantastic! The juxtaposition of modern lighting and
sounds mixed with the image and feel of old adobe and mud brick buildings made
for a feast to the eyes. The sounds of
people talking and the smell of food cooking and music being played by street
entertainers filled the other senses. We
parked our motorcycles a couple of blocks away from where the place that Matt
had managed to get ahold of was situated in the town’s central plaza and we
made our way there.
I’m sure the two of us made for quite the visual oddity, I in my very post World War 2 era styled clothing and motorcycle cap reminiscent of the one Marlon Brando wore in the Wild One in 1954 and Matt in his modern nylon cordura woven armored riding suit, scruffy beard and pony tail. What a sight we must have made, indeed!
The restaurant we were to dine at was called the Plaza Café. They have been in operation since at least the 1940’s and the styling cues on the interior reflected that fact quite well. They offered a variety of types f food from classic American to Greek to Mexican and an assortment of coffee and desserts. When Matt had called them it was just shy of 9PM and they closed at 930PM but the man on the phone said that if we got there by 930 exactly, they would still serve us. When we arrived at the door it was just shy of 930PM and they had already hung a handwritten “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign in the door even though there were still a fair number of parties still seated at their tables. I told Matt to go ahead and try the door anyhow. It was unlocked and we walked in. We were greeted by the friendly smile of a waitress on the other side of the counter but the “sorry, we’re closed” message that was posted on the door. We explained the situation to her and how we had called and spoken to someone that said if we got here by 930 we’d still be served. She told us to wait a moment and disappeared in the back and returned a short time later telling us to sit wherever we pleased.
I’m sure the two of us made for quite the visual oddity, I in my very post World War 2 era styled clothing and motorcycle cap reminiscent of the one Marlon Brando wore in the Wild One in 1954 and Matt in his modern nylon cordura woven armored riding suit, scruffy beard and pony tail. What a sight we must have made, indeed!
The restaurant we were to dine at was called the Plaza Café. They have been in operation since at least the 1940’s and the styling cues on the interior reflected that fact quite well. They offered a variety of types f food from classic American to Greek to Mexican and an assortment of coffee and desserts. When Matt had called them it was just shy of 9PM and they closed at 930PM but the man on the phone said that if we got there by 930 exactly, they would still serve us. When we arrived at the door it was just shy of 930PM and they had already hung a handwritten “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign in the door even though there were still a fair number of parties still seated at their tables. I told Matt to go ahead and try the door anyhow. It was unlocked and we walked in. We were greeted by the friendly smile of a waitress on the other side of the counter but the “sorry, we’re closed” message that was posted on the door. We explained the situation to her and how we had called and spoken to someone that said if we got here by 930 we’d still be served. She told us to wait a moment and disappeared in the back and returned a short time later telling us to sit wherever we pleased.
 |
| Photo courtesy of tripadvisor.com |
 |
| Photo courtesy of theactorsdiet.com |
We scouted out a table and sat down heavily. The fatigue from the day’s ride creeping up on us with a bit more fervor than it had when we got to the KOA cabin. We perused the menus that our server brought us and made our decisions. What arrived at our table and crossed our pallets was nothing short of pure deliciousness. The Chicken enchilada that I ordered was amazing. Nothing was overdone or over seasoned and every bite you could tell that the ingredients were fresh and not some sort of prepackaged hodgepodge of things. Matt savored his dish just as much as I did. It had been a while since food had tasted so good. I guess the road has a way of doing that to things. When you’re hot, tired and hungry like the devil you haven’t eaten since breakfast, flavors, smells and textures have a way of intensifying when you finally get a chance to eat.
 |
| Here are my enchiladas! Nom Nom Nom Nom! If you are ever in the Old Town Santa Fe area, please stop in and check these guys out, their website is http://santafeplazacafe.com/ |
Finishing my supper I stepped outside to smoke a Lucky Strike and take in the
fresh air. That’s when the sounds of a
mariachi band made their way across the plaza to my ears. I crushed out my cigarette and walked back
inside to settle up my bill and I found that Matt had already snagged the
bill. We met with the manager who had
taken our phone call and shook his hand, thanking him profusely for staying
open long enough for us to get a meal in.
We stepped back outside into the square and we made our way to the group
gathered around the mariachi band.
 |
| Yay! The video finally uploaded to the page! Enjoy the music and the showmanship! I only wish my camera would have been able to record things with a higher level of quality so that y'all could really hear and appreciate it. |
The sound was fantastic, mesmerizing even. The four ladies singing and playing enchanted us with their voices and the music they played. A younger woman in her twenties on violin had a voice that was like a clarion bell. Every note, every pitch rang with a perfection that simply amazed and she carried it even when giving a vibrato to her voice. It was simply amazing. The tiniest of the four on the other end played guitar and sang with a power that came from somewhere deep inside and grabbed you by the arm and drug you in to experience the music. You couldn’t help but want to hear more. The silver trumpet of the trumpeter and the deep resonance of the bass guitarist completed the sound and gave the music the ability to be experienced in a way that was almost tactile in nature.
Once the group finished up we began to make our way back to our motorcycles chattering away about the vocals that we both so very much enjoyed and with one of the songs they performed still stuck in our heads. We were almost there when we were approached by a guy asking for money. OK, so I am not one to simply judge panhandlers. For whatever reason, whether you really truly are in need of money due to a situation you’ve been thrust into by events beyond your control, have no job, are a street performer trying to make a little extra scratch or you are making some sort of statement regarding generosity and the lives of excess that many folks lead, you have your reasons. All I ask, is that you be honest, genuine, and if at all possible, professional about it.
This particular individual was… well he wasn't horrible about things, but he certainly wasn't any of the above mentioned things.
His “sly” approach to us as we strolled past his location was one that immediately set the hairs on the back of my neck to trying to stand on end. He pulled into stride with our walk coming in from our left and slightly behind us. He opened up with the usual “excuse me but I was wondering if you might be able to help me out” sort of statement. When I glanced at him from my peripheral I noted that he was shorter in stature than myself or Matt, had a tanned complexion, closely cropped hair on his head and his face and was wearing an over-sized white t-shirt and jean shorts that hung low on his waist and extended below his knees. He matched our gait and began his story. His pitch, if you will.
He said that his daughter was sick and that she had been in the hospital for the past three days because she couldn't swallow. He needed to get a prescription of “rubinol” for her from Walgreen's that cost somewhere in the ball park of $46.00 and he currently only had $38.00 on hand, which he held out for us to see so that it would hopefully lend credibility to his tale. He then began to offer up his name and his ID for proof and stated that he wasn't on anything and he had not been drinking or anything like that and just needed to make up the difference between the $38 bucks he had and the $46 it was going to cost to get the prescription for his kid.
Now, I’m not an insensitive prick and neither is Matt. I have two children of my own and I would gladly be out on the street begging for money or help if that’s what I had to do to ensure that they were taken care of and safe, but sometimes your gut kicks in and things don’t all quite add up when you put them together.
When we reached our motorcycles he continued his pitch. I did not have any actual cash on my person and Matt, as he would later explain it, would have only $20.00 bills on him so sparing a few bucks so this guy could go get his fix, er I mean something to eat, er I mean the rubinol for his kid. So we told the guy that we seriously couldn't help him. He got visibly irritated and then asked us if we had a cigarette at least since he was so stressed out. I told him that I could help him out there and I reached into my jacket and after a brief moment I produced the crumpled and sweat soaked pack of Lucky Strikes that was in my inside coat pocket and handed them to him. He thanked me and then proceeded to tell Matt some spiel about how because I helped him he would gladly help me any day any time, but because Matt didn't give him any money or try to do something to assist or ease his situation that he couldn't say the same about him. Matt and I just looked at each other as he walked off with that shared expression of "WTF was up with that dude?"
I wished him luck in trying to get things for his kid squared away and he said thanks. We saddled up on the bikes and headed back to the KOA campground and our diminutive cabin there to rest up for our next day's adventures!
Stay tuned for Day 3 as well as more photos from the actual road itself!!!
