Day 4. Alaska Ride 2017: Coldfoot, Alaska

I wake to find the rain has moved in over the night, and has increased more than I have seen over the last few days. The surrounding mountains are shrouded in white misty rain laden clouds. Outside my room window,  But, I do have electricity, a toilet and a shower.

I can see my bike surrounded in the muddy parking lot by pools of water. My 10 by 20 foot room is comfortable, but a bit cold. I cannot imagine what the rooms feel like later on in the season when it starts to snow.

Coldfoot is a former mining camp established in 1902. Coldfoot experienced another boom in the 1970s, when it became a construction camp for the Alaska pipeline. Coldfoot camp is where the workers lived during the construction period.  There are essentially three groups of people staying at the hotel. There are the truck drivers, tour groups, and one-offs like me.  

I head back to the Coldfoot restaurant to get some breakfast.  As the night before, the buffet is the center piece.  The food is actually good here. As I inspect the vegetable tarts, I tell the guy delivering some items to the buffet that the choices are interesting. He says “Because we are here for 6 months at a time, the food can get rather boring. So we try to keep things interesting and find new things, and change up the selection frequently. Otherwise, we would all go crazy. “ I Sit with a group of truckers as we watch the news on hurricane Harvey. I ask one Trucker if he was South bound and if he went over Atigun pass, and he replies that he went over the pass last night. I ask him what the conditions were and he says it was snowy and at one point it was 28 degrees. Another trucker says that it would be worse at the pass today, since it is raining here in Coldfoot. The trucker’s comments pretty much dash any window of hope that I could make the pass today, or tomorrow: signed, sealed, delivered and a done deal: not going.  

I think that I am going to hang out in Coldfoot Camp for the day. Not much to do here, other than eat, sleep and drink.  I could use some rest as the road back will be really muddy and dangerous, even more so than the other day.  I see that the Arctic Inter-agency visitor center has a ranger talk at 8:00 PM. I will go to the talk and go through the exhibit very slowly, as I ripped through it yesterday. The center is close enough that I can walk to it. I will get up early and head back to Fairbanks, where I will spend the night before heading out in the direction of  Canada.

I walk over to the visitor center and there is a new ranger talking to some folks that are interested in the conditions on the Atigun Pass.  The ranger says he went over the pass twice over the last two days. He says at first the snow was all the way down the North slope, and then later on down the South slope. He says it was slippery and snowy on the last 200 feet at the top.  I tell him that I decided not to try the pass, and he turns and says to the lady ranger “This guy is one of the smart ones!”.  The ranger then tells me “Winter has arrived early this year”.  The ranger then puts on a 30-minute video on the Dalton, just for me: I have the movie theater all to myself.  Great little movie that covers the area, people and wildlife along the Dalton hwy.  Afterwards, he gives me a map with trails leading from the visitor center. I walk the trails first to the Coldfoot cemetery, which is not much, and then later down the road to the airport. I then take the trail back to the Coldfoot camp restaurant where I order lunch.

As I am eating, my buddy Dustin from Colorado comes in the door dripping from head to foot from heavy rains. Dustin and I have been meeting each other on our bikes all the way up the Dalton. Yesterday, Dustin went to stay at the Wiseman B&B, with the thought of trying to get over the Atigun pass today. Dustin did attempt the pass today, but ran into heavy snow before he got anywhere near the top. He said the road was frozen and slippery, but not sloshy. Dustin said that several Southbound truckers tried to stop him from going over the pass, and that one of the truckers told him a biker went down at the pass yesterday.  Dustin showed me pictures of his bike in the snow and pictures of his helmet with snow frozen at the top of the visor. While we were getting lunch, a Southbound trucker that just arrived told Dustin that all the trucks going over the pass were putting on chains.  Dustin has been on the road for 28 days. He quit his job as a custom car mechanic and hit the road.  When I asked him when he was going home, he said “I do not have any plans at this time. I am thinking about heading down to the Kenai peninsula next”.  He says that he just finished doing the Deming hwy, which is the Canadian equivalent to the Dalton hwy.  Dustin was a fountain of information for those areas I was planning on riding through.  He said that there was bad smoke from fires through Idaho and into the BC.  When I get back to the internet I will check on the fires going on in the West. I might need to alter my ride. It is still raining and is showing no sign of letting up. It will be a cold, rainy and muddy ride back to Fairbanks tomorrow. I am sure I will be seeing Dustin on the road tomorrow. 

I planned on going to the ranger talk at 8:00 pm, but find that the rain is coming down pretty good.  So, I decide to just hang out and read in the reading room in the hotel. I read for a bit, talk to some people passing through about my trip and then John the ranger comes in. John was the ranger that I talked to earlier in the day. We talked more about the pass and the snow. John says a bus went up earlier and had to return, which is the bus that the couple that I was just talking to said they were on earlier in the day. The couple also said they saw Dustin turn around up on the pass. John says that he loves it here and really wanted the job once it was offered to him. He says it is not about the scenery, but about the people and the stories they have. John goes on to tell me about the many people that are obsessed with crossing the country in cars, bikes and motorcycles.

John leaves and I walk down the hall and run into a party taking up the width of the hallway, some women asks me if I want a drink of bourbon: I decline.  I sit down and start talking to the guy closest to me, who is drinking wine. I ask if they are on a tour and where they are going. The guy says that the group is a state resource group from many industries, such as mining, forestry, etc. that once a year go out to an area of the state and spend some time. The guy is not part of the group, but his wife is.  We talked for about half an hour and I find out that they are based out of Anchorage. Good group that is having some fun.

Day 3. Alaska Ride 2017: Fairbanks, Alaska

I take off and stop for some gas on the outskirts of Fairbanks. I fill the tank and decide to put a little gas in the jerry can as a test to see what happens, as I have never used the can before. Just before I get on the bike I notice a pool of gas forming under my pannier. I am confused as to where the gas is coming from since the fuel tank and jerry can are not close to the pool.  Upon further investigation, I find that there are three little holes in the bottom back of the jerry can causing the gas to squirt out about 2 feet. Horrified, I start to panic because I need this can to get me through the last stretch of road from Coldfoot to Prudhoe Bay, which is 245 miles without gas. I put on some superglue and gorilla tape as these are the only things that I have available to me. The gas stops leaking. I reverse the can on the mount so that the holes are now at the top of the can, and the can is upside down. Off I go.

The Elliot highway is paved and easy to ride. Finally, I arrive at the Dalton highway and the road immediately turns to dirt.  I keep my wits about me as best as I can, because there is something going on around each corner. Eighteen-wheelers, tourist buses, road crews, cutting crews, construction and just plain weird sections of road.  I approach the Yukon river and start down the bridge which is about a quarter mile long angled to the other side of the river. I get about a quarter of the way across and realize that the wet wooden planks of the bridge are super slippery. Hitting the brakes causes the bike to slide, but you must hit the brakes since the bridge is pointing down and the bike left unchecked is picking up speed. Crossing the Yukon is just plain scary, because the river is a long, long way down and the river looks wider than the Mississippi at the Iowa crossing: I just did not know how scary it was until on I was actually on the bridge, which is probably a good thing for now. Unfortunately, I need to go back to cross it again on the return trip.   I make it to the other side without falling into the Yukon and head to the service center for some food and gas.

The Dalton is everything I have read about. It is mostly dirt, with patches of paving. You get going on the pavement, go over the crest of a hill and suddenly it is dirt or gravel. There must have been 25 patches of gravel that were freshly dumped upon the highway, the crews still spreading out the gravel. The gravel patches were concerning, because I was not sure what they were hiding: there must have been a good reason they dumped gravel on the road at that point.

I had a super great lunch, where I was served a delicious salmon soup. The lady serving was very proud of it, saying it had coconut and other interesting ingredients in it: I just loved it.  I continue on the Dalton until I get to the Arctic Circle, where there is the Arctic Circle sign: go figure.  I find that a tour bus is there with 20 people taking their pictures. I wait in line and a BLM volunteer takes my pictures. I ask her how many tour buses she gets, and she says that they get about 10 smaller buses and 3 large buses during the day. Before arriving at the sign, I have visions of me having difficulties taking a picture by myself:  I had no idea the sign was a major tourist trap.   I continue on and reach Coldfoot camp at about 5:00 PM, all the while it continues to rain and coat my bike and myself with mud. 

I stop at the Inter-agency center before going to the hotel. The ranger has the latest weather report for Atigun pass, and it is not good news.  The report shows up to 4 inches of snow in the next 24 hours, and temperatures in the low 30s. The storm front that has come in will continue until Tuesday. You must go over Atigun pass to get to Prudhoe Bay. The ranger will not make recommendations and gives only snippets of insight as to what has happened to others in the past. He says a trucker just came over the pass and said that there was “ice on the top of the pass, but it was gone as he descended”.  I am not a big fan of riding a motorcycle on ice: two wheeled vehicles tend to fall over on ice. A lady ranger then says “What you need to watch out for is the eighteen wheelers. They start to slide, and then they can crash right into you.”.   The guy ranger then says “The Atigun pass is something that you do not fool with.  It is better to be cautious”.  That pretty much did it for me, as I was not ready to die in order to get to Prudhoe Bay.  I check into my room, which is really just a cell in a long trailer, and crash for a bit before going to dinner.  The “hotel” room is interesting, as it is about 10 by 20 foot long with 2 single beds, a shower and a sink. The room smells of diesel fumes, but it is dry and for now, and it is home.

 

I decide to go for the all you can eat buffet, as there are no other options at Coldfoot Camp. I fill my plate and wander into the bar area, where there is one seat left at the end of the bar. A few minutes after I sit down the room is packed with people, and I soon realize they are all staring at the TV screen at the front of the bar, which is showing “initializing UFC”: the big fight is tonight.   There is a guy running up to the corner of the room with his iPhone, which is attached to the TV.  He is trying all kinds of things to stream the big fight on the TV, but apparently it is not working. To my right is a guy that says the internet is not going to work, and to not get my hopes up. Apparently, in Coldfoot there is only a satellite internet connection, that is marginal at best. The guy laughs and says “I made the mistake when I started staying here and purchased the week-long internet package. What a mistake, I could not get anything. What a waste of money”.  They try to get the fight on the TV for the next hour and it never happens. People slowly drift out of the bar.  In the meantime, the beers are flying out of the cooler. The bar keep tells us that he arranges the beers on two sides of the cooler. The beers on the left are the beers for the tourists. They are “local craft beers” made by a brewery in Fairbanks. The guy sitting next to me laughs and says “craft beer, ha.  They just charge more.”  The craft beers are $5.25 and the other regular beers or the right side of the cooler are $4.75.  Regular beers, such as Miller are for the workers and truckers.  Two young guys on my left are hanging out drinking beer while waiting for the fight? One of the young guys asks me “Did you actually choose to come to Coldfoot?” In order to avoid a bar full of people pointing and laughing at me, I tell him that “I was just passing through”, which is a kind of stupid thing to say since the road is a dead-end.  I ask him where he is from, and he says “Anchorage, but we travel all over the state doing work”.  Shortly after, he and the other young guy get up, not before he reaches over and shakes my hand and says “good luck”.  I also call it a night and head to my room.

Day 2. Alaska Ride 2017: Anchorage, Alaska

I head off to Fairbanks in the rain. I am still getting used to the new Scout K60 tires and the weight of the bike, and all my gear.  In my mind, I am thinking this will be an easy day, but It just was not so. The day is long, and it continues to rain until about 2:00 PM.  About 3 hours into the ride, I am so cold and wet that I decide to switch to my electric jacket.

I also am getting notifications from my Garmin unit that the tire pressures are low. I decide to check the pressure using the gas station unit and I find that both tires are low. I decide to fill the tires using my portable tire pump as a test.  I try hooking up the rear tire to the pump and find that the threads are not connecting. This is really bad, since I will be dependent upon the pump if I get a flat on the Dalton hwy.  I use the station pump to get the tires filled, and off I go. I roll into my hotel at about 5:00 pm.  The weather is very nice and about 70 degrees when I arrive. People are walking around in their shorts. I am still cold, and using my heated jacket.Time to get Chinese food for dinner.

Day 1. Alaska Ride 2017: Orange County, California

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 

Mary Oliver

When I tell people that I plan to ride my motorcycle from Anchorage to the Arctic Ocean, and then back home, they usually ask three questions. The first question they ask is “How far is that?”.  I tell them it is about 5,000 miles, but depending on which way I go, the mileage may change.  They generally respond with “that is a long way. Does your butt hurt?”.The second question that I get is “Who are you going with”.  I tell them that I am going by myself.  Have you ever asked someone if they want to ride 5,000 miles on a motorcycle to the Arctic Ocean? If you did, you probably did not get many takers, just as I did. A couple of years ago, I joined a Meetup group in San Diego dedicated to going to Alaska as a group. After several meetings, it became apparent that about everyone in the group had a different idea of what it was to ride to Alaska, with many varying opinions on the time of year,

duration, and ultimately the route.  The group quickly abandoned and people went their own ways.  I learned from my Alaska group experience, that if I want to go to Alaska, then I would need to plan and go on my own. The third question that I get is “Are you not scared to be by yourself?”.  The answer to that question is “absolutely not”.  If you ever wanted not to be lonely, then ride a motorcycle across the country. When you are by yourself, people feel that it is okay to strike up a conversation with you about any topic that automagically pops into their heads. You could be filling up the motocycle’s gas tank in Oklahoma, and someone will come up to you and start asking questions about where you are from and where you are going.  And when people do start talking, they just do not stop. Often, you must jump on your bike and take off, only to look behind you and see that they are still talking.  Well, that last part might be an exaggeration, but most conversations extends well beyond the norm.

 

Today, I am flying out of Orange County into Anchorage, where I will pick up my Suzuki DL650 that I shipped to Anchorage several weeks ago.  I worked with Tyler at “Orange County Craters” to crate my bike, and find a shipper to get my bike from Orange to Anchorage. After the bike was crated, the first part of my bike’s journey was by truck to Seattle.  From there, the bike went via barge to Alaska.  If you want to get something to Alaska, then you need to get it to Seattle, where it will be loaded on to a ship or barge.  

 

After I get my bike, I will stay overnight in Anchorage.  I will then go to Fairbanks the next day and stay the night.  From there I will start North on the Dalton Highway, also known as the “ice road” or the “Haul Highway”.  The plan is to stop in Coldfoot overnight, and then head to Deadhorse the next day, where I will stay the night.  The next morning, I will take the Arctic tour, which is a bus that takes you to the Arctic Ocean, via the oil fields.  You cannot get to the Arctic Ocean at Deadhorse without an official tour, and you cannot take the tour until they do a security check on you.  Once I complete the Arctic Tour, then I will head back South stopping at Coldfoot and Fairbanks along the way. I have not really planned any stops after Fairbanks. I will just wing it as I go through Alaska, Canada and the continental USA.  My plan is to be back home on September 9^th, and back to work on the 11^th.

 

I have been planning this trip for some time. I probably started visualizing the ride sometime after I started riding a motorcycle 6 years ago.  I have taken a number of long distance rides while preparing for this trip.  I have ridden across the USA several times and done motorcycle camping, which I will also do on this trip. I had planned to do the Alaska trip last summer, but family priorities prohibited me from executing the plan.  I chose going over the Labor Day weekend, instead of the 4^th of July and Memorial day holidays. August should still be good for the trip, yet it does tend to rain more as September nears. The jet appears to go down low well in advance of the Anchorage airport. I see the coast line of inlets covered in a grey overcast. The rain is steaking over the windows of the jet. I dread picking up the bike and getting through a new city while it is raining.   The airport in Anchorage looks brand new and has the same feel as the Minneapolis airport. I quickly retrieve my checked bags and grab a taxi to the warehouse that has my bike.

 

The warehouse folk have been expecting me.  I am taken into the warehouse and asked to sign papers. I tell the guy “I have not seen the bike, how do I know it is not in pieces”.  He says he will fix the documentation if that is the case. He then starts to walk away.  I say “Wait, but where is the motorcycle?”.  He says “Oh yea.”  He opens the side door to the warehouse and says “Out there”.  I look out into the warehouse yard, and not seeing the bike I ask “Where?”.  He says “Way out there.  See it?”.  I look to the end of the warehouse yard and there is the bike out in the open in the rain.  I walk to the bike and noticed that the bike is pointed into a rack.  When I get the bike out, then I will not be able to move forward because I will hit the rack Just then a fork lift comes by and I quickly ask the driver to turn the pallet with my bike around so I can get out.   It has been raining and the wood is very wet, which makes removing the 2” screws difficult with my $7 electric screwdriver. I figure out that it will probably take at least an hour to remove all the screws just to get one side of the crate down. The driver runs off and comes back with an electric screwdriver, and he just starts to remove screws at a very rapid rate. In a few minutes, he had removed all the screws. We remove the plastic covering and I find that the left mirror has been removed. I just on the bike and find that the wood wheel chocks, in both the front and rear are massive.  The driver pulls the bike and I push and we get the bike out after much effort. I turn the battery back on and start the engine. I hand the driver my electric screw driver and a $20 bill, which he declines, but I insist he take since I do not want to carry the weight.  He finally accepts the items and I ride off. He does and then comes over to see what I am up to.

 

 The “in theory” ten minute ride to the hotel is pure hell.  I go down the street and immediately run into a mile long train. I turn around and start ignoring the GPS.  I quickly find that many streets are one way and I must go the wrong way and then make a u-turn.  This all becomes very difficult because I do not have a left rear view mirror. I make big left turn hand signals because with the heavy 4:00 PM traffic, I am not sure If anyone is really in my left lane.  I finally get down to the main highway, only to find that the turn has been shut down due to construction. I must once again go the wrong way and do a reverse turn.  I finally make it to the hotel.  The good news is they let me park the bike under the canopy of the hotel.  The other good news is there is a restaurant and bar on my floor.

US-89. Return Trip Day 8. "Returning Home"

Friday, July 29th 2016.  The goal for the day was to leave Prescott and arrive home without doing any fancy routes, which was about 375 miles. 

I got off at a decent hour and was able to get down to the base of the mountain in about 15 minutes. This same route on the way up took about 2 hours due to slow moving traffic. But, today there were really no cars.

I took the 89 to US-60 and grunted out the miles to the I-10.  The temperature was already at 90 degrees by 8:00 AM. Soon it went over 100 degrees and would stay there until I crossed the top of the Ortega highway 6 hours later.    

I-10 was as I expected, hot and windy.  The heat peaked at 112 degrees around the Morongo casino in Palm Springs. 

I took the I-215 and went from Perris to Lake Elsinore on the I-74.  Over the Ortega highway and I was home at 3:00 PM.  

Altogether, the round trip between California and Illinois took 7,213 miles and 18 days. 

US-89. Return Trip Day 7. "On to Prescott"

Thursday, July 28th 2016. The goal for today is to ride from Bandalier, New Mexico to a camp spot on the other side of Prescott Arizona, which is about 525 miles away. 

I leave the campground in good time around 7:00 AM after seeing Sue and her chihuahua out on their morning walk. 

I turned left at the park gate on the road toward Los Alamos.  The road almost immediately turned into a very tight and twisty mountain road, with the very first turn at 10 MPH.  Coming toward me continuously were Los Alamos employees in their small commuter cars.  I had no traffic on my side of the road.  The temperature takes a dip to 49 degrees as I clime in elevation. I pass through Jamez Springs, which looked most interesting and rustic. 

I eventually connect up with the I-25 South and then connect with I-40 West, where I just hunker down for several hours of driving. 

Just before the town of Grant I turn South on US-117.  I then enter El Malpais National Conservation Area.  I had not heard of Malpais, so I take the opportunity to stop at the visitors center where I review the indian and lava flow pictures. I continue on the 117 and encountered some really great views and road. I am glad I selected the 117.  

I eventually hook up with US-60 going West. Once again it was simply a case of hunkering down and doing some miles. I get past Show Low, then things start to happen.  I encounter a fairly substantial rain storm. I decide not to put on my rain gear since I was already getting hot. I eventually got almost too cold from the storm.  

From Show Low to Prescott the temperature, elevation and air quality changed many times. First it was cold, then it would get to 101 degrees, then back to cold. I sew many storms and I also encounter three fires. I am having a hard time differentiating between the smoke and the rain falling from storms. I think sometimes it is both smoke and rain that I was seeing. 

My plan B is to camp before Prescott, but the camp sites to be way too hot. So 11 hours into the ride I decide to push on and get past Prescott. After I  grind my way through the “Prescott Valley” and the millions of nu-syncronized stop lights I finally get past Prescott. Right after Prescott the National Forest starts on I-8, and about 1 mile after the forest service sign is the While Spar Campground. I am very relieved to get a decent site at the campground. 

Betsy, the campground host wants to let me know that a bear had been spotted about 50 miles away some 3 weeks ago. I told her that I was not concerned after just coming from Yellowstone, Glacier and Rocky mountain national parks.  Betsy was very nice and very glad to see more people coming to her campground.  The campgrounds were in excellent shape and I let her know. 

I setup camp, head back to Safeway which was only 5 miles away and grab some groceries for that night and next morning. The campground was nice and quiet that night.

US-89. Return Trip Day 6. "Bandelier National Monument"

Wednesday, July 27th, 2016. The goal today is to ride from Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado to Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico via Taos, which is about 325 miles. 

I wake at 6:00 AM and hear a guy screaming happily. I heard him last night and really thought nothing of it because I was sure it was just someone having a good time. But, now I can hear that his yelling and screaming is in pure gibberish. Is he doing some Colorado drug?  I then see an older man come out of the rest room after brushing his teeth go into the same camp. He quietly walks into the camp behind the trees where the screaming is coming from. Then I see two teen girls come out of the camp, stop and start talking about shopping. They all can hear this man screaming, but none of them appear to take any notice. They all appear to be used to his screaming. 

Then Ann comes by in a jacket, as I am now in my Tee-shirt. Ann tells me to have a great time. She says Tom keeps asking if I have left already. Not sure why anyone really cares. 

I then decide to recover from the dumpster my top-roman meal from the previous night. I used my extended selfie stick to hook onto the garbage bag at the bottom of the bear dumpster.  I pull the bag up and grab my unused meal. I am a happy camper. 

At this same time another man has left his coffee machine from his RV outside the rest room.  A deer has come up and is staring at the coffee machine, sometimes approaching it and then backing off. I am about to take a picture of the deer when a lady came out of the rest room and scares the deer away.

I pack up my gear and go over the park café where I have a huge stack of pancakes and eggs. I am stuffed.

I head off to Durango, where once again a small town and the traffic is terrifying me. I finally got out of town and headed towards Taos.

The road to Taos is probably the best stretch of road on the trip. There are hardly any cars, the weather is just perfect around 70 degrees, the actual road is in good shape and the speed limit lets you move at a decent pace. I continue past chimney rock and over a mountain range until I hit the bleak high desert about 30 minutes outside of Taos. 

Just before entering Taos, I am casually cruising and come over a very small hill. All of a sudden you think the circus had come to town. Lining both sides of the highway are booths of goods, and all kinds of strange people selling them. There are also people stopped on both sides of the road, for this is the Rio Grande Gorge. I pass over the gorge and it is a fine site to see earth dropping hundreds of feet down.  All of this suddenly in the middle of a desert. 

I enter town and quickly find a café to get a New Mexican lunch. I have a vegan blue corn tortilla disk with green chili.  It is wonderful.

I leave café and as normal the GPS sends me in the wrong direction. I go 5 miles back in the direction I came through with horrible summer traffic. I find another route back around the city and I am soon following the rio grande to Bandelier National Monument. The temperature along the river eventually gets to 98 degrees. 

I get to Bandelier and there was no one working the ranger both at the gate, but there is a sign that says to go to the visitor center if you have a pass and show it to the ranger. So, I drive 5 miles to the visitor center, go in and hand my pass to the ranger. He looks at it and says “looks good, now go back to the entrance and check yourself in for camping”.  I cannot believe it.  I could have just gone to the campsite in the first place. I found a site and then go to the automated machine to get my $12 ticket. This is quite a deal as compared to Mesa Verde at $32 dollars. Really, the only difference is Mesa Verde has showers , a store and a laundry. Both parks have flush toilets, which Tom and Ann hold as something most dear. 

It is nice going to these lesser national parks and monuments. They are about 10% full, if that. I had lots of options at Bandalier and got a great site near the rest rooms, water and bear box. I just hope tonight I do not have any crazy person screaming. 

At Bandelier, unless you are camping you must take a bus to visit the park. There are ruins to visit, but since I finished getting setup up around 5:00 PM, the visit was out of the picture. You also must walk to the ruins, which also adds more time, unlike Mesa Verde where you can drive right up to most ruins. 

I am sitting writing this blog and Dan and Wanda come by with there little Chihuahua dog. Dan comes up to my table and tells me he is from San Angelo in Texas. They have the RV at the bottom of the hill, and used to be camp hosts in a neighboring campground for 4 years. Dan knows quite a bit about the population of New Mexico and gave me tips on how to visit an Indian pueblo.

He once had a friend that was a chief's son. He said he sat out with them on one trip and then they started drinking a week brew that they had collected.  Dan then decided it was time to leave once they starting getting a little looped. I talked to Dan about a half hour about the cultures of New Mexico and how they do, and do not get along. Really interesting guy to talk to.