Taos Ski Valley is the highest spot on Wheeler Peak that's reachable by motorcycle and has a sign suitable for submission in the AMA Grand Tour.

Up, Down and All Around New Mexico

By Kit Kemsley

Some people will use any excuse to go for a motorcycle ride, or at least that’s what the American Motorcyclist Association must think. Why else would they propose a Grand Tour called “Up, Down and All Around,” taking you to all four corners of a state, along with hitting its highest and lowest points? Talk about a waste of gas. Talk about a pointless quest. Talk about a lame pretext for a trip.

Well it may have been lame, but the idea of touching all four corners of our home state appealed to us. For me, it would be a good chance to try out the new sidecar rig just attached to my beloved Honda Nighthawk. For Dina the dog, it would be new smells and new terrain to explore. For Brian… well, he doesn’t need any excuse to go riding. He’s already on the rig and down the driveway before he asks where we’re going.

We headed northwest first, taking a “shortcut” on a dirt road which bumped over 50 miles of washboard. My windshield shook loose, the lock broke on one of my new Givi bags, and Brian had to be pushed out of some deep sand. Finally emerging onto the highway near the Very Large Array, we camped nearby and fortified ourselves with breakfast burritos and Pietown pie the next morning. Then it was north, a hundred miles north on a road devoid of even one shade tree. By the time we reached Shiprock, the state’s northwest corner, the temperature was 102 and I would have sold my front tire for a glass of ice water.

After a sweaty stop to snap pictures in front of the Shiprock Chapter House, we pointed the rigs east and headed for the mountains. I followed Brian up the curves on the High Road to Taos, dividing my attention between the breathtaking vistas and drop-offs to the right, and the need to shift my butt to the left as I negotiated the sidecar rig around yet another decreasing radius turn. Slowly but steadily I gained confidence in my ability to handle the rig. Brian shot ahead of me, but he and Dina waited for me at an overlook with a couple of folks riding two-up on a Harley. The aspen leaves shimmered in the July sun, and the view went on forever.

We rode up to Taos Ski Valley, a picturesque hamlet nestled on the slopes of the state’s highest point, Wheeler Peak. Unfortunately, the road itself did not go very high up the mountain. Shrugging, we took pictures of the ski runs and hoped that would be good enough for the AMA. A brief afternoon rain shower cooled us on the way down the mountain, and Mexican food that night at my brother-in-law’s favorite restaurant completed a satisfying stay in Taos.

Touching the next corner entailed riding part of the Enchanted Loop east of Taos, then heading out along a portion of the Santa Fe Trail into some empty country. I think I saw more snakes on the road than I saw vehicles. Moses (right), the northeasternmost point in the state, was nothing more than an abandoned farm — the road didn’t even widen on the approach. We gathered photographic proof of our visit to Moses, then followed the Santa Fe Trail back toward home.

Due to some inconveniences such as work, chores, and cash flow, we did not resume the Up, Down and All Around Tour until October. Fortunately, the temperatures along the southern border of the state had become downright pleasant by the time we set out to touch the southern two corners.

Here’s some advice for anyone curious about checking out the remote Mexican border at Antelope Wells (left): bring extra gas cans. We traveled to Hachita and found two gas pumps — both out of order. A check with the Border Patrol, more plentiful than yucca in that part of the country, confirmed my suspicion that there was no gas to be had at the border, either. The sidecar rigs being the gas hogs that they are, we chose the better part of valor and turned around. As close as we lived to this corner, we decided to skip it; a week later, we were able to return with a couple of full gas cans to finish the ride.

The last corner was the most difficult to find. Reaching Jal was easy enough, just 60 miles or so past the state’s low point at Red Bluff Lake. But Bennett appeared to be a ghost town, not marked on any map. A local gave Brian directions to go three miles south and “you can’t miss it,” which turned out to be local-speak for “you’ll never find it, stranger.” After wandering around for awhile, we finally followed a dirt road into a small settlement consisting of a half dozen houses. Yards overflowed with goats, donkeys and chickens, but not one human being was in evidence. I thought I heard the theme from “Twilight Zone” playing in the background.

No signs announced Bennett, so we photographed a sign indicating Bennett Street (left), again hoping this would please AMA. On the way out of the settlement we were halted by another creature on the road: a real live rattlesnake. Brian jumped off his rig to snap a quick picture. The flash of the camera angered the snake; it shook its tail ominously while it retreated into someone’s yard. Dine wisely stayed in her sidecar.

There was to be one more “wildlife encounter” on the way home from Jal. At a turnout near the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant site, Dina and I went to water the weeds while Brian shut his eyes for a few minutes. Suddenly, an eerie humming sound approached. “Duck!” I shouted to Brian, as several hundred Africanized bees headed toward us from the direction of the buried nuclear waste. Dina dove under the sidecar. Michael Crichton’s science fiction book, Prey, flashed through my mind. Its plot involves a swarm of nanoparticles that develops intelligence and attacks human beings. But in this case, the bees made, well, a beeline for something south of us and swarmed past harmlessly.

Once finished going Up, Down and All Around New Mexico, I studied the list the AMA had sent us for the tour. Apparently you can tour the corners of as many states as you want. They listed exotic-sounding places like: Teec Nos Pos, Arizona; Yaak, Montana; and Shivwits, Utah. Hey, who said this tour was a dumb idea and a waste of gas? I started thinking that maybe we could touch some of those corners next year.

Dina wagged her tail agreeably. And Brian was already on the rig and down the driveway.