Our route, day 14, from Santa Fe to... Albuquerque!

Day 14: From the Santa Fe Hostel to Lagunas, NM, back to Albuquerque for repairs (131 miles)

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Curses, foiled again!

Alas, the best laid plans...

This morning, we picked up R2, loaded up the bikes, and after lingering a bit at the Santa Fe Hostel, set out toward Flagstaff, just as rain clouds were moving in. We made it a few blocks... and noticed my headlight was out. Shit. A quick check showed it was "just a blown fuse." I had a workable spare, popped it into place, my headlight was back in action, and we were on our way again.

Our route to Albuquerque skirted rain clouds dropping some of the sharpest little pellets (along with some gusty winds), but soon, we got out from under the clouds, and a blue sky, good roads, and climbing desert temps lay spread out before us. We were zipping along at 75 mph, the local speed limit on the Interstates, which we were taking in the hopes of reaching San Diego by Friday. As we passed by Albuquerque, me for the second time without stopping, I looked at the downtown to the south of the Interstate and thought, "I'll have to visit you, someday."

Julie's fuel tank is small for this trek -- one hundred miles per tank is a good day -- so we typically just follow her bike's cycles for when we stop for fuel and a welcome stretch of the legs. When we exited about 30 miles west of Albuquerque, there was no gas in sight, Firefly was running on fumes and the sun was HOT, HOT, HOT. We turned the bikes off to discuss, and asked a passing motorist, who directed us a few miles off the Interstate to a gas station. Hopping back on my bike, I hit the starter and... oh, no, not again!

Nothing. Not enough juice to start the bike, but more than we had on Sunday near Chama. I quickly popped off the side panels to inspect the battery. It seemed fine -- levels were in range, and there were no obvious signs of the acid boiling. Shit, shit, shit. Every second sitting still in full riding gear is hot in normal summer temps; these were far warmer than that to which we're accustomed.

But necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. The idea hit me to strip out all but the master fuse out of the bike, effectively shutting down all of the electrical systems except those needed to maintain spark. If the battery had enough juice to start the bike this way, without all those other draws, it might get us to some shade and some help so we could troubleshoot the problem.

To my surprise, it worked! With all of its other electrical systems disabled, R2 fired right up, and I led us a couple of miles -- Julie behind to be our collective tail and brake lights for other vehicles -- to a gas station where we could get Firefly refueled and think through our next steps, hopefully in the shade, but as it turned out, in air conditioning.

When we were stranded en route to Chama, we'd located a Honda motorcycle dealer in Rio Rancho, which is quite close to Albuquerque. Since one of the fuses I pulled out was nearly melted, my thoughts began going to a accidentally grounded wire or a break in the wiring harness, which could mean that having a dealer's access to parts would be helpful. I certainly didn't want to risk riding any further than we had to, but we also didn't think a tow was needed, since R2 was running, if dark.

So, we set off, back toward Albuquerque. The riding was a little harrowing, actually: fierce winds, traffic and road construction that made it difficult for Julie and I to stay together. We pulled off at the western edge of town, and I started making calls. Three times in a row, I struck out: even the Honda dealership wouldn't work on a bike -- even their make of own bike -- that was more than 10 years old. Then someone suggested Greg at High Velocity Cycles, on the east side of town. He said the magic words: "Yep, sure, bring 'er in and I'll have a look."

On the way to Greg, we rode through town on Route 66, and past the Route 66 Hostel, our new home away from home, well, from our plan I guess.



We booked a room, dropped off our stuff, and headed east to Greg's. He spent 10 minutes looking over the bike with his multimeter, and gave the verdict: the stator (which generates the charge) and the regulator/rectifier (which clean and manage the charge) were both shot. About $200 in parts, which won't arrive before Thursday morning. Greg is going to do some more diagnostics in the morning, and call me once he's talked to the parts distributor.

Sigh. While I fret a bit about what this recent experience might foretell for our adventures ahead on the Alaskan Highway, I'm trying to just surrender thoughts about what might be, and enjoy the experience that we are having. I'm lucky that my travel companion is as easy going about the unexpected as she is. In the meantime, we're in a cozy place in a fun town, with people who can help. Surely, there are lots of bright sides to be found there. If anyone has some suggestions for spending time in and around Albuquerque (accessible on our one reliable motorcycle), please let us know!

What's your type, baby?

Move over, Myers Briggs!

I'm just catching up on some of my blog reading as we're chilling at the Santa Fe Hostel, and if you haven't checked it out already, I suggest you take the hilarious Pizza Personality Type Indicator created by my incredibly talented sister-in-law. This Thoughtful Sensualist enjoyed taking the test, as much as I was surprised by the restaurant recommendations that it produced!

http://www.minnesotamonthly.com/media/Minnesota-Monthly/July-2009/The-Minnesota-Monthly-Pizza-Personality-Type-Indicator/

You can also read more of the backstory behind the test.

Enjoy!

CHARGE!

As I posted in a comment on Riding Out the Recession, the news from the shop is that the regulator/rectifier, which I replaced in August, is working, but not kicking out as much voltage as you'd expect. It should still be charging the battery, though. The battery, on the other hand, is toast. Out of acid. Dead-ski. Kaput. It could just have been a bad battery.

But how would a 10-month old battery be shot? Did it get boiled by too much charge from the R/R? It could be a bad R/R, and/or possibly a bad stator powering the R/R, and/or, well, who knows? Anyone want to put money on the wiring harness?

Paul, our local mechanic at Santa Fe Motorsports -- a guy who had plenty of legit reasons to pass this job up, but took it anyway -- suggested that with a new battery and a trickle charger that we'll use when in proximity of an outlet, this little dead battery won't be the reason R2 doesn't make it to Alaska. Not saying anything about the other possible reasons, of course.

In particular, I'll be curious whether a deeper root cause of R2's various electrical anomalies is revealed. (The brake-light switch for my front brake, which had mysteriously had stopped working near Vail, also started working again yesterday morning.)

In any case, thanks to Paul's help, we hope to be back on the road to Flagstaff this morning. It might seem strange to be excited to be back on the road without complete confidence that we've gotten to the bottom of things, but since they don't present safety issues while riding (just inconvenience and expense), I'm inclined to just keep an eye on it for a while. Well, that, and have a map of the nearest motorcycle shops to our path! ;)

Our route, day 12, from Santa Fe... to Santa Fe!

Day 12: Black Canyon Campground, Santa Fe National Forest to Abiquiu, New Mexico... and back to Santa Fe! (~115 miles)

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Busted (redux)!

Due to some posting glitch, most of this post didn't appear the first time. Here's how it was supposed to appear.

Busted!

R2 is, that is.

Julie and I packed up from our lovely, scenic campsite today, and set off to the north (!), riding through some incredible landscapes again recommended by John P., as we made our way to the incredible and initially unpronounceable Abiquiu. (Say "ABBY-cue.") Not far past Abiquiu Lake, R2 started lurching, then losing power. I wasn't able to keep up with Julie up hills. My max speed was dropping... 65... 55... 50...

Julie was leading, saw I was having trouble and pulled off into a turn-out. I pulled up next to her, starting filling her in, and R2 died. That by itself, is very unusual: R2 idles hot, especially after the engine is warm.

Worse still, pressing the starter yielded nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Uh-oh. We're miles from the nearest building, with zero cell reception. And looming dark clouds moving toward us, from the opposite angle of this picture.

I start diagnosing: battery leads, check. Master fuse, check. After giving the battery some time to recover, a sure sign of more serious electrical troubles: the battery was able to kick out more juice (yay, an oil light!), but nowhere near enough to start it. That means, best but unlikely case, a bad battery. More likely, some part of the charging system is toasted, and now possibly the battery, too. Worst case, well, who knows?

This is frustrating, in part because I replaced the regulator / rectifier in August, along with the battery. We do expect more than 10 months of life from our equipment, yes?

More importantly, we're 40 miles from the nearest store that would sell a CAR battery, in Chama, NM, but even if they have a motorcycle battery that fits, they won't be open on a Sunday. So, we're either looking at camping along the highway for the night, or getting towed.

AAA to the rescue!

Equipped with the iPhone and my AAA card, Julie set off on her bike for a place with cell service while I wait with the bike.

I began disconnecting the battery, and since I had my toolkit available, checking the plugs. Then it started raining.

A quick cover of the luggage, and I went back to the battery. Then the rancher, on whose land we were temporarily residing, came up. He left his jumper cables in his other truck, but kindly agreed to let us camp if we couldn't procure a tow.

Julie returned with good news. For a nominal fee to upgrade my current membership, AAA would tow R2 up to 100 miles. But I had to be the one to do it.

So, I hopped on Firefly, rode into cell phone service, made the transaction, requested a tow and scoped out available repair shops. Some in Durango, CO. Farther north that we'd intended, and perhaps out of range of our tow. Some in Santa Fe, plently in Albequerque, and, viola! A Honda motorcycle dealer in Rio Rancho! We had our spot.

I zoomed back to Julie (enjoying the time on Firefly, which I'd only ridden once before) to wait for the tow. We passed the time looking at the scenery, watching birds and observing some large black beetles scurry about, doing their business.

An hour or so later, Vic arrived with his (thank goodness!) flat-bed tow truck. He made short work of loading a securing the bike (cranking the handlebars down in the process), we loaded my gear into the cab, and we were off, with Julie on Firefly close behind.

But, bad news, Rio Rancho was farther than it appeared -- it would add about $100 to the tow. So, back to Santa Fe instead!

We dropped off the bike at Santa Fe Motorsports, and Vic was kind enough to drop us off at the Santa Fe Hostel, just as the sun was setting, where we will be passing the night (at least!).

Vic imparted some important New Mexican wisdom on the drive. He said, here a common way to wish someone well is to say, "may it rain on you."

And indeed it has, and thankfully, we're going to be just fine. Or at least, that's what I really, really hope the repair shop tells me tomorrow. More to come!

Busted!

R2 is, that is.

Julie and I packed up from our lovely, scenic campsite today, and set
off to the north (!), riding through some incredible landscapes again
recommended by John P., as we made our way to the incredible and
initially unpronounceable Abiquiu. (Say "ABBY-cue.") Not far past
Abiquiu Lake, R2 started lurching, then losing power. I wasn't able to
keep up with Julie up hills. My max speed was dropping... 65... 55...
50...

Julie was leading, saw I was having trouble and pulled off into a turn-
out. I pulled up next to her, starting filling her in, and R2 died.
That by itself, is very unusual: R2 idles hot, especially after the
engine is warm.

Worse still, pressing the starter yielded nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Uh-oh. We're miles from the nearest building, with zero cell
reception. And looming dark clouds moving toward us, from the opposite
angle of this picture.