DiViDe RiDE PaRT FiVe RoCkY CaNyOn to BeAvErHeAd WoRkCenTer

In the Middle of the night I had to get up to get my sleeping bag.

The Canyon was warm the first part of the night, but suddenly in the middle of the night the temps dropped dramatically.

Another point during the night through my eyelids I saw a bright light, only to peak out of my bivy and see the moon was bright in the night sky.

I would sleep on my one side till I felt sore, and then move to the other when I got tired.

The pillow riddle continued to elude me and swore if I ever spent that much time sleeping on the ground again I would bring an inflatable.

Eventually I opened my eyes and noticed that daylight had finally come.

I got up and it was freezing cold. Immediately changed into warm clothes finally putting on my knicker bibs that I had brought.

As I packed up I was impressed by how efficient I had become with the process and choked down more food. I took inventory of my water count knowing full well that I would have to pray and hope that Black Canyon creek was flowing cause that is as far as I would be able to make it with the water I currently had.

I completed my morning ritual and rolled out. Once again the trail kicked up. I thought to myself, why didn't I camp on top of a climb, but then remembered how cold the canyon had become over the night and it would have been way colder at the top of a peak. Before long I was in my granny gear churning along wondering if it was going to be 8 miles or 4 miles to black canyon.

I could see fresh bear tracks all over the road. That's funny I thought, they were going uphill coming from the canyon I had been sleeping in. Interesting. The next thought that crossed my mind was that I didn't think there were bears in New Mexico, guess I was mistaken.

Onward and upward, till I was forced to walk. The going was slow and my feelings of illness returned. Nausea, exhaustion. I took breaks and did my best to keep moving.

I was trying to eat, trying to keep my motivation up, but all that had happened up to this point had put a harsh crack in my resolve. I could feel my desire for wanting to be out there all alone in the middle of now where feeling ill, slipping fast.

I'm hunched over my top tube after spending what seemed like another straight hour going uphill. I think finally all my ill feelings have reached a peak and I am about to expel a symphonic technicolor yawn.

Just the I notice a truck ascending up the road. A man who is clearly a Fellow Native mature and seasoned stops and ask me if I was OK.

I had to tell the truth of course.

He offered to shuttle me ahead as far as he could, told me he had work to do in the Gila and that was how he could help me out. So I accepted.

My race was finished the instant I started moving forward on the route under powered assistance.

There was nothing I could say. I was not feeling well and mentally the ordeal had hurt me. I was in a different event but got caught in circumstance. I had spent what felt like almost two entire days averaging 3 miles per hour. Mentally I disqualified myself for moving too freaking slow.

And Jorge, eventually turned off the main road to take care of his business and I was back on my own. I felt better. I don't know why. But I did. I changed my clothes, Put on regular shorts put away arm warmers and such, and started rolling again. Started the sacred Gila mountain dance that had me hiking and biking up mountains and down when the downs did come.

I saw signs talking about this being part of the Geronimo trail. I remember when I was a sales coach in one of my past careers I would talk about how much of a bad ass Geronimo was. I didn't think it was any coincidence that I was on the same path of a warrior that I had spoke of so highly so many times.

I passed a resort, counting down the remaining miles to Beaverhead work center.

I finally arrive tired, walking. I see a soda machine and an Old school pay phone in the front of the place. I also see an out of order sign. Ya, a soda would have been too much of a reward...pfft..

There are your typical compose bathrooms with a fresh water pump. Behind the main building was the garages that housed all the equipment these gentleman would use to fight the fires.

I am naive I freely admit, and It seems after spending some time observing the Firefighters that there are two types. The firefighters we know off rush into homes and use hoses to fight urban death traps in an effort to save life. These firefighters were more like Fire Horticulturist experts in chocking a fire to death by digging, using heavy machinery cutting, whatever it took.

The firefighter in charge responsible for caring for all the extra fighters that had come down to assist with the wildfire crisis, fed me, gave me drink and let me make several calls.

Lloyd said he would come get me. Told me things would have been different had I had not such a rough start. And that he would be there in the morning, would I be alright.

I told him of course.

So I cleaned my clothes, ate my food, observed my surroundings and the people around. Spend the day reading Jill Homer books on my kindle. Almost wishing I had started reading the book sooner than that day feeling that reading about her adverse moments made me feel a lot stronger than when I had arrived in my weak mental state.

The night was beautiful. Comfortable. The sky, full of stars. I even saw what I would call a slow burning shooting star. It was a moment of beauty after all the suffering.

Before I drifted off to sleep I even figured out the pillow riddle, stuffing my spare clothes in the stuff sack of my Bivy. Worked perfect.

More soon....

The NaKeD InDiaN