Wild, Wild West: Guest Blogger Shane Pasley Part 1

Mr. Cuter than James Franco himself asked me to add an entry to his blog. I don’t know if I should be honored, or if he's getting lazy and decided to follow the business model of The Huffington Post. I might just be the first step towards an ever decreasing quality of content that ends with clickbait created by child labor in a third world sweatshop. It does however give me full privileges to pinch Fatmarc’s cheeks whenever I want, although he didn’t specify which ones.

For the last several years I’ve been doing winter road trips to warmer parts of the country. It’s been a therapeutic escape from some unusually brutal winters. This year I managed to hit the 3-day Chihuahuan Desert Bike Fest in Texas before meeting Bob, Dave, and Joe in Phoenix for a week of riding there.

If you’ve never heard of The Chihuahuan Desert Bike Fest, that’s because it’s way down here. The closest big city is 5 hours away and the closest hospital is 3. Even people in Texas don't know there's topography down here.

The first day at the bike festival was a little disappointing. It had rained all night and temperatures were in the low 40s. I made it to the Lost Mine Trail for the 10am ride. When no one else showed up, I decided to ride anyway.

Delaware: 1, Texas: 0

It was pretty sweet to be out on the trail alone. I had plenty of time stop and take photos. The rain had really brought out some of the unique colors in the rocks, which was amplified by the gray skies and low-hanging clouds.

It’s not everyday you get to ride your bike inside a national park.

Alone in a wide open expanse

It was only a jeep trail, but it was technical enough to be fun.

I made it about 15 miles out before deciding it was time to head back. Shortly thereafter I ran into the official ride. They had delayed for an hour because it was still raining at 10. Most people were smart enough to pre-arrange someone to drive their car and rendezvous at the end of the 30 mile trail. The promoters had volunteers that would do this for you. Too bad I had turned my car into a storage locker to keep everyone's bikes safe.

Perfect.

Instead of a 30 mile downhill trail with a strong tailwind, I got to climb my way back against the wind. I guess it’s only fair, after all this was a training-oriented vacation.

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So damn windy

The second day I decided to check out the Lajitas trail system. Many of the “locals” (people from San Antonio, 450 miles away) talked about racing here back in the day, and how the trail system and the town of Lajitas itself were completely different back then. Some of the land under the trail system got sold around 2003 and the finish line for the Chihuahuan Desert Challenge got replaced with a soccer field and an expansion of the Lajitas Resort.

At least the mayor remained the same. Well, more or less.

The day started overcast, but by late morning it was sunny and temperatures were in the 70s. These trails were mostly flat but flowy.

They went all around and over this stuff.

A few of us went back for more after the official ride ended.

Probably wasn’t a good idea to follow the guy with drops.

The third day was the main reason I came down for the festival: the 60 mile epic ride to the other side of nowhere. When I was down this way 2 years ago I bought the t-shirt, now it was time to earn it. The state park ranger finished his instructions with the advice “make good decisions” to which someone quickly retorted “too late.”

Beautiful day for a leg ripping.

The rain from the first night had made the trails perfect. The washes filled with “soul sucking sand” were as firm as sidewalks. The A-pace group sold as a 7 hour ride only took 5.

Lajitas was having an unusually wet winter, which was also making the desert bloom.

The epic went great. The people were fantastic, and it’s an event I’m hoping to attend again.

Sunday it was time to leave, but there was one more thing I had to do before leaving. People kept talking about Singing Victor who operates a row boat and donkey service to visit the town of Boquillas in Mexico. This border crossing was recently reopened after being closed in 2001. I couldn’t find anyone interested in going, but after talking with several people including a group of rangers camping nearby it sounded safe enough. It was a free weekend for the national park so the border crossing was busy. I grabbed my passport and headed over.

I was only in town for lunch and a souvenir. On my way out I stopped in the store, which apparently wasn’t for tourists. The shelves were pretty sparse. The owner was friendly enough and started asking me questions “where are you from?” “did you enjoy lunch?” But the last question was “are you here alone?” to which I answered yes. The owner got quiet for a few seconds and gave me a weird look. It might’ve been obvious that I had just realized I was in a small room by myself in a foreign country where none of the other tourists could see me. He was probably trying to figure out why the strung-out, sunburned gringo was in Mexico alone. I quickly paid for my stuff and left.

Getting back into the US was easy enough. I have to say that the agents in charge of protecting the southern border are infinitely more friendly than the ones we use for Canada.

With that out of the way it was time to head to Phoenix; I’ve got some friends to meet.

coming soon part 2