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Wednesday, April-16
After a fairly average Motel-6 night in Silver City I head-off towards the hills and the northern wilderness within the heart of Gila National Forest. Unmarked, twisty roads ahead 'tis then ..
.. which are virtually deserted, apart from the odd deer I spot here and there.
After an hour or so to cover the requisite 45 miles [72 km] I arrive at the Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument and park-up the STeed and take a chance on leaving some of my luggage and helmet exposed to potential theft - although the voluntary car lot attendant assures me it will all be 'safe-as-houses'Then I get a really good [uncalled for .. and unwanted!] workout meandering through the Gorge along a steep winding pathway leading up ..
.. to the ancient caves above.
Luckily I arrive at 12-noon, just as the official tour is about to start
People of the Mogollon (pronounced 'Mo-go-yone' or 'Muggy-own') lived in these cliff dwellings from the 1280s through the early 1300s.
Our guide, Jim, has put-in over 10,000 hours of his time into discovering more and teaching visitors about this special place. Jim's yer typical geeky 'anorak', with the stereotype thick glasses. I have no doubt that he often wears green khakis; probably has an obsession with Star Trek, and is blessed with the ordinary social skills akin to a sack of King Edward potatoes. BUT, my word, does he know his subject? .. you bet he does. And explains and answers each topic and question with David Bellamy-type enthusiastic passion. It was good to watch.
Listening to Jimbo's oratory suddenly made me realise that America is not the 'New World' as we often like to think of it. In addition to and despite the Native American Indians (them 'Injun' fellers), this continent, of course, had its very own well-organised civilised culture - and anthropology - long before it was discovered by us Europeans at the very start of the 16th Century. It's sometimes easy to forget this. I slip away from the rest of the group and climb up into Cave No. Three
.. and ponder over the remains and other artifacts of ceremony within.
A great place to visit. Truly mystifying ancient history.
After a fascinating couple of hours, I leave the the other spectators, still transfixed and hanging onto every one of James' words-with-gusto, and wander on down back to the parking lot, as I must be on my way ... (All my unattended gear was indeed as safe as the proverbial houses after all .. :o)
.. across the eastern-bound Highways numbered 35 & 152 
And what great roads these are too
.. which reminds me, somewhat, of Deals Gap - Tail of the Dragon (US-129), back along the Tennessee/North Carolina state line .. but without the madding crowds of bikers.
Through absolutely beautiful ... 
.. and very remote mountainous countryside.----------------------------------------------
Thursday, April-17
I spent last night in the hispanic-dominated and windswept township of Las Cruces. Not much to remember there apart from my great little stopover at the Americas Best Value Inn motel. American owned and operated - well, an Australian boss + far-east Asian wife, actually - where the staff, including the owner-managers, all go the extra mile for you. Very clean with all the touches of home. Every room is on the ground floor too, so there’s no need to cart yer gear up that concrete stairway. Indeed, the Pan was parked right outside my bedroom entrance.. :o)
And all at the very competitive price of GBP £24.58 [inc the tax liability]
Would I recommend this hotel to my best friend? .. absolutely!
The ride out of town, over the eastern ridge, opens-up a spectacular view of the arid Tularosa Basin below.
55 miles [88 km] later I pull off the plains road and turn left into White Sands National Monument.My now well-used National Parks & Federal Recreational Lands Pass gets me in for free AGAIN .. of course .. :o)
As I enter, I see what appears to be, the spitting image of the road goin' down Perran Sands back 'ome .. the major difference is the 'sand' here is whiter-than-white can be .... because it isn't sand at all, instead, it's almost pure gypsum
.. then the asphalt runs out .. and I utter the eff-word into my helmet.
.. but carry on regardless. In any case, the packed hard gypsum ahead is almost as good as a proper tar-sealed surface, albeit you need to be aware of, and dodge the odd pothole hear and there. 
What a very odd place indeed it is for a Cornish registered Pan-European motorcycle to be. 
Time for some kid-like fun, I fancy. So I bung my little 'point-and-shoot' Canon to a Chinese [or possibly Japanese ..?] feller and ask him to snap away as I run-up a 40 ft-high dune, just like a fourteen year-old child.Daren't stop see .. not once you get goin' .. not at my age!
Gawd .. I wish I hadn't done that! The eff-word, premised with 'absolutely', and **** 'ed' at the end, is uttered one more time!
Fun [not] over, I ride back towards the entrance and stop along the way at the designated picnic area, which is quite deserted.
With a nice coating of the white stuff around my Avon Storms, I inspect their continuing roadworthiness.Verdict: the front is still good for another few thousand miles; but the rear is squaring-off badly, which must be the result of travelling across all the long and oh-so-bloody boring interstate and southwest American straight-as-an-arrow roads. There's not much leaning involved with these types of highway, so the centre of the tyres, and the rear in particular - cuz of the weight load - takes the brunt of the wear. Ho-hum!
Quite a picture .. the embodiment of a lonely motorcycle .. don't you think? I then leave the Park and head further northeast for another 20 miles or so into the township of Alamogordo.
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Turning right after Alamogordo brings me onto US-82, and I head almost due east over the dramatic escarpment leading up to the high ground of the Sacramento Mountains. Dunno quite what the elevation here is, but my guess would be that it's considerable - maybe 9,000+ feet [2,750+ metres)? - as the temperature plummets, quite dramatically, by the time I reached to top; indeed, all the way down to 3ºC [37ºF]. Definitely THE coldest I've experienced anywhere throughout North America so far.
From the escarpment's crest the Sacromentos, and my ride thereafter, slopes gently down eastwards, merging gradually with the plains to the west of Artesia. This is a desolate and very windy place to be, on this day in particular – during the mid-afternoon of Thursday, April-17. Take it from me .. cuz I was there.
But I stop and take a pic, anyway. [above is to my right - looking south]
Another 100 miles [160 km] to go from desolation before I reach my overnight destination of Carlsbad. And it was from hereon that I noticed a slight wobble in the steering head, which, as I pressed onwards, grew progressively worse and worse, until a serious 'weave' developed.Methinks: "uh-oh, must check my tyre pressures; and maybe adjust either the spring preload and/or damping adjuster - Or maybe the bike just doesn't like all the blustery wind [unlikely, of course]"
.. and by the time I arrived at my Carlsbad-based motel, 2½ hours later, I discovered the reason for it ... and guess what I said next .. '****! I gotta puncture in my rear'. Not my rear, of course .. but my rapidly squareing-off back end tyre. It's now 5:31pm ..
.. I'll deal with it all tomorrow.
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Friday, April-18
First thing this morning - for the first time, I try a new (to me) plugging widget called a 'gummy worm', which I drizzle with a good coating of rubber cement. I then bung it in the nicely cleaned-out and rounded puncture hole - and hope for the best.
A while later, I cut away the surplus sticking-out bits of plug, and pump-in some air.[thanks again Don for your kind gift of the compressor - as you can see, it's been put to work already]
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The rest of the day is spent trying to hunt down a new Avon AV56 170/60R-17 from Carlsbad, in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert - an exercise not for the fainthearted, as Avon Storms are not a ‘mainstream’ stock item and therefore not widely available from the majority of garages or other direct-line suppliers. Instead they’re generally considered to be more of a ‘boutique’ performance-type tyre. This just makes the whole hunting-down process even more frustrating.
And it’s a Friday - the start of the weekend!
After a lot of internet surfing, research and phone calls to several tyre suppliers located all over south-western of America; a couple of credit card rejections [cuz my CCs don’t match-up with a USA-based address]; AND a great deal of help, advice and patience from my on-line www.my-mc.com friend, ‘CB’ Shahan - plus some useful words of encouragement from his wife, Wilma - I finally decide to temporarily abandon my plans to head-on down to the more remoter southern regions of Texas - the Big Bend National Park area in particular. Instead I'll ride eastwards straight across Interstate-10 for nearly 500 miles [800 km], which is the most direct route to the City of San Antonio, where I know I can acquire a new replacement tyre and get it professionally mounted, all at a sensible price.
The blue line on the above map at the top of this page indicates my preferred touring route; almost due south down to The Rio Grande, the river that separates America from Mexico, and then follow the River along The Ranch Road-170 all the way east into the heart of Big Bend, before arriving at San Antonio. But alas, this grand idea, originally conceived back during the winter months in Cornwall, must now remain but a mere line on the map. Maybe I’ll come back one day and turn it all into reality.
So its gonna be a second night for me in Carlsbad. Well, I needed to catch-up on my laundry in any case! – as all my underwear is starting to get a little, shall we say, ‘sticky’ just lately .. :o(
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Saturday, April-19
The plugged tyre is holding its pressure of 40 psi. [The Pan’s manual states 42 psi, but Avon recommends slightly less for its high performance Storms].
So I cautiously get under way again, with crossed fingers .. and a bag full of clean undies .. :o) ..
.. down US-62 for 27 miles to Carlsbad Caverns National Park. Again free to enter IF you have the right credentials, e.g. a National Parks Land Pass 
1,000 feet [305 m] deep underneath the Guadalupe Mountains, beyond the somewhat more familiar surface surroundings, is another world.
Away from the glare of sunlight, lies the incomparable realm of gigantic subterranean chambers, fantastic cave formations ...
.. and other incredible features all decorated with ageless stalactites and stalagmites. 
.. quite extraordinarily breathtaking .. so it is.Carlsbad Caverns - a ‘World Heritage Site’ insofar as these Caverns, in theory at least, belong to everyone around the world.
2½-hours later, after a truly wonderful underground self-guided tour, I re-emerge, from a catapult elevator ride, back into the warm daylight; the cactus, and to the songs of desert birds.I re-call saying to one of the queuing incomers during my stroll back to the bike, “bloody awesome, mate”
He answers, “Gee thanks mister .. say .. are you from Australia?”
On the way out of the Park, and right at the entrance with US-62, I pass by the very tacky White’s City Resort; the self-proclaimed commercial centre of Carlsbad Caverns. And what a DUMP it is! .. glad I didn’t decide to stopover here, for what turned-out to be two nights .. in the middle of ‘No-Where’
Sixteen miles later, I cross the Stateline into Texas - the Proud Home of Pres George Dubya. I plan to remain here, in this the biggest-of-all US states, for at least the next 5-6 days.Tonight’s stopover is the Township of Fort Stockton; located 133 miles southeast from the Stateline that I’ve just crossed.
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5:15pm - halfway to my destination - just around about at the ‘point-of-no-return’ - everything appears to be going swimmingly; the plugged Storm is clearly holding its pressure, and the temperature, even at this time of day, is still well up into the 90ºs F [low 30ºsC] ..
.. then my heart sinks, as does my arse - about 5 inches to be precise (BTW, not a “man’s” 5 inches neither, Mr Jones .. ;o) in as many seconds. Because at 65 mph [105 km/h], the steering head starts to shake violently from side-to-side, as I gut-wrenchingly realise that the gummy worm plug has just blown-out. What a BUMMER!I mean, this really IS in the middle of No-Where .. there’s just nothing to be seen ahead ...
.. and bugger-all behind me neither .. for bleedin’ miles and miles.Well in a situation like this you .. DON’T PANIC!!
I said you just DON’T PANIC!!
Luckily for me there’s a little more than two hours of daylight remaining - more than sufficient enough time to remedy the situation, even though I’m still 20 miles from the nearest town of Pecos (ahead), let alone the 70 miles still to go before I could get to Fort Stockton.
Gummy worms? Y’all can stick ‘em up where the sun don’t shine .. I’m reverting to my tried-and-tested (remember the San Francisco puncture, before my tour had even started?) Stop & Go rubber mushroom-type Tire Plugger repair kit. With the rubber mushroom soon ‘blasted’ into the hole with the air-pressured gun, I then use my only four CO² cartridges to pump the rapidly shredding Storm up to around 22 psi. Not enough, but nevertheless still sufficient to get me into a Pecos garage .. and an air dispenser.
Then something inspiring occurs:Firstly, Mike (the Harley rider) and Josh (the BMW 1150 GS-Adv rider) pass by .. and immediately stop to help. I reassured them both that everything is in hand .. and wish them well for their journey ahead.
Then, no more than after another 10 minute, a second group of Harley riders pass by and stop around 200-300 yards back up the road from whence I came.Scott-the-Texan, my newest and bestest friend, breaks away from the group, turns around and enquires, “How ya doin’ buddy, dja’ll need anythang to git yerself goin’ a'gin?”
[Me]: “Well, actually, I could do with a little more tyre pressure”
[Scott]: “So how many more gas cartridges dja’ll need?”
[Me]: “I reckon another two, ideally three, should be enough”
And with that Scott digs-out three of his own CO² cartridges from his puncture repair kit; tosses them on the ground in front of me and says, with a warm grin, “Heck, y’all just got ‘em bro” Less than five minutes later - with pressure back up to 35+ psi - I’m on my way again .. and get through all of the last 70 miles to Fort Stockton, safe and sound, just before dusk.
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What a marvellous day, in a variety of very peculiar ways it’s been today.
I have finally come to realise, now beyond doubt, that if you ride a motorcycle, then you got a whole wide world of good friends all around you.
And long may this unwritten code of genuine camaraderie continue .. :o)
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Sunday, April-20
Nothing much to report. I needed to make progress down Intestate-10 (East), which is the direct route to San Antonio.
If you've seen one interstate or motorway or autobahn, well .. then you've seen 'em all! So there's no need for any pics.
After 267 miles of I-10(E), at mostly around 60 mph - because I now know following a blow-out I can safely bring the bike to a stop from 65 mph .. er just - and with everything passing me (inc 18 wheelers), well, I'd had enough. So I threw-in the towel and booked a motel room in the Township of Kerrville for the night - roughly 70 miles short of San Antonio City.
In any case I needed to pull-in somewhere and fill-up with gas again - so it all made sense to call it a day and quit while the going was good.
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Monday, April-21
Still in Kerrville
Let's talk 'Breakfast'
There’s a popular chain of "Old Country Stores" whose outlets can be found throughout most US States called Cracker Barrel. They retail traditional Southern ‘comfort food’. Breakfast is served 'All Day. Every Day'. I like 'em, as their grub is usually of a higher standard - and the staff are always friendly too. BUT ... 
.. IF ONLY I could understand their menus a little better. 
Let's take a closer look. I mean .. 'Sawmill Gravy' [huh?] .. at breakfast time?? AND when I first saw it, I just HAD to ask what exactly 'Grits' are? Well, apparently it's a type of corn (maize)-based porridge .. only without the class [.. just said for the patronising benefit of our Scottish cousins].
But with some considerable natural charm - and a subtle semi-promise [wink wink!] of a larger-than-usual tip - I persuade my waitress to bring on, as near as possible, a full English breakfast, with grilled tomatoes.
Some say, 'tomatoes' - and some 'round here, well they have a hankerin' fer say 'teh-maiters' ..
.. I say 'bollocks'
.. cuz a couple of raw slices of tomato, just wasn't what I asked for!BTW, those are sausage 'patties' covering-up the ham - 'links' you see, are harder to come by for some reason. And those are 'hashbrowns' - American style - up there on the separate tea-plate [at 11 o'clock].
It's a funny ol' world!
[.. and right now I could really do with a nice cuppa tea]
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An hour and a half after breakfast and I've checked in at my San Antonio motel. I've also located the exact whereabouts of the motorcycle shop that'll be fitting my new tyre tomorrow morning, Tuesday April-22So I ride into downtown San Antonio and make a beeline for the Alamo Mission - where the Battle (and siege) of the Alamo took place during February and March 1836.
I've had a bidofa fascination with The Alamo ever since I re-saw the 1960 movie, of the same name, during the very early hours of Christmas morning, about 14 or 15 years ago (say circa 1993-94]. Some might say that it's just a grand, over-blown Hollywood historical epic - but it struck me, during those small hours of December-25, as a stonkingly good film .. a hell of a fun ride, starring: John Wayne as Col. Davy Crockett; Richard Widmark as Jim Bowie; and ..
Laurence Harvey as Col. William B Travis. And here's the only known portrait-drawing of William Travis, looking remarkably similar to Laurence Harvey. A fine piece of casting IMHO.
I take the time to learn some of the history surrounding the 1836 event(s), from a lecture by one of the curators. Very interesting stuff.
Here’s the Alamo's 18-lb cannon, probably the largest weapon in the whole of Texas at the time, which Travis ordered to be fired at the surrounding Mexican army in response to its Commander-in-Chief’s - Santa Anna’s - raising of the blood-red flag signifying "No Quarter" [no mercy].
Great history.
And it's a 1/365-shot pure chance, or luck, that I should be here today, April-21. For it was on April-21 [1836], at the Battle of San Jacinto, that Santa Anna's army was finally and very quickly defeated, in just 18 minutes, by Sam Houston's and his men .. who used the now-famous battle cry, "Remember the Alamo!"Effectively, therefore, April-21 is the celebrated date on which Texas overthrew the marauding Mexicans - and became an autonomous republic in its own right, before joining the U.S. as a constituent state almost 10 years later [in 1845] ...
.. which is the reason for all the celebrations going on in the City right now, especially around the site of The Alamo Mission 
Plenty of security around too .. but on Goldwings .. well, why not?
And finally, here's a fine fellow, with whom I struck-up a conversation just before leaving to return to my motel room. Officer Shane [his forename], who just happened to have parked his motorsickle next to mine in an adjacent parking lot. Shane, come see us over in Europe one day, eh mate? .. ;o)
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Tomorrow I'll be getting my hitherto elusive new rear tyre fitted .. :o)
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