Date: Sun, 2 Feb 1997 23:18:14 -0500 From: Charlie Ford Subject: Taos Life Pt. II On Thursday I woke to a beautiful sunrise and my first thought was to find a bathroom in which to enjoy the constitutional time of day. I hate to talk about such a crass subject matter but please indulge me to speak about bodily functions while trekking America. First things first. You need to have a fairly balanced diet and try and not fill up on anything that is not good for or to you. Since the beginning I have had some trail mix with me in my bus and have tried to cut my eating down to twice a day, with a snack for lunch (usually trail-mix). I try and eat at least two good meals per week and fill the others with as healthy as I can find or make myself. It is often said that a good morning bowel movement is one of the finer times of daily life. To be honest it is one of the few times we are alone, and it makes for a feel-good day. To sum it up: eat right while trekking, your body will enjoy the ride much better. Also drink lots of water. : ) After making me a cup of coffee I packed up my gear and swept out the Mothership. Cleaned her up nice so nothing would rattle or roll around as I drove. That is another thing, keep your gear organized, if for no other reason than if a cop does stop you he will be reasonably impressed with your cleanliness and may indeed forget what he stopped you for. Hey, first impressions are lasting impressions. As I was cleaning Arron drove by and told me point blank where Steve Harris lived complete with directions and hand signs pointing the way. The cuss knew all along just as I had suspected. Said something right off for this little village. it was not only a village but it was a clan. I drove out headed in the direction he told me to go, at least that is what i thought I was doing, but as I later realized I was headed for the "Lower Floor of Heaven". At least that is what I called it. I drove west about 7 miles on Hwy 570. Finally I came to what I thought was "the bridge" explained to me in the directions Arron had given me. I crossed to the other side and before me was a paved road bed that turned to dirt. I assessed the situation. The climb was steep, the sides had no guardrails, and if you ran off one it was sure death and plenty of time to think about it. This was a switchback road that climbed the wall of the Rio Grande Gorge. And I mean Gorge in the most literal sense of the word. This folks was walking the bleeding edge of driving pleasure. I eased the Mothership into first and up we went. She performed like a champ with no skips, jumps, or squeels. I rose up that precipice like it was nothing more than a sunday afternoon drive in the countryside of south Georgia. I drove along the edge just to view safely. It was a 400 ft straight drop in one place. I eased back to the inside wall for obvious reasons. When I arrived at the top I saw the most stupensous view thusfar on my trip. I could look into the distant north and see the snowcapped Rockies in all their majesty. The tops were covered in a thick blanket of snow and with the reflection of the sun it made the look like jagged rocks topped with silver mercury that rolled off the sides with the impression of white chocolate being poured over a chocolate ice cream. I could look to the west and see foothills, and one large lone standing mountain surrounded by vast plains. I looked to the south and from where I stood all the way to the horizon it appeared to be as flat as a pool table. I looked to the east and saw the Sangre de Cristo's, the mountains I had crossed to get to Taos. I stood and viewed in awsome wander. This 40 year old southern man had never seen such beauty as lay in this west land. I yelled and my voice felt as if it died ten inches from my face. In the vally I had yealled and got a great echo, but here there was nothing for my voice to bounce off, so on it went into the air and there it disintergrated, or maybe it didn't. Maybe some person in California felt they heard someone do a war hoop behind them. Who knows? I figured out quickly that this was the wrong route, so I got in the pilots seat, turned around and headed down the mountain. I once again faced this ominous ridge, only this time from the top. I thought about my brakes and once again thanked Chris Chubb for giving me new rotors, and I thought of Jimmy Ryles Service Center for installing them. These people may have saved my life, one is in DC, the other is in Hazlehurst Georgia, both a long way from Pilar. I slipped the Mothership into first and headed down. The decent wasn't as bad as I thought it might be and after all was said and done I was again inside the Rio Grande River Gorge. However just as I arrived at the bottom the engine started running eratically. Skipping a bit and running very rich. I eased her on back toward Pilar where I found a phone and called Steve to get perfect slow directions. I went to his house and we had a good meeting although he was quite busy booking rafting trips for his upcoming season. I asked where I could find a VW mechanic in either Taos or Pilar if possible. He explained there was a guy up the hill named Brian, that could probably fix it up. So off I went to meet Brian, the guy that fixed VW's. This time I followed the directions given me to the tee. I went back up the road to the first left, turned left and started up the little road before me, where Brian lived. Steve had told me that he lived in a horsetrailor at the top of the hill. For some reason while I was with Steve and he was telling me the way I didn't question the horsetrailor thing. But I must admit after I started going there I found myself thinking all sorts of thoughts like; How the hell do you live in a horsetrailor?, and What kind of guy would live there anyway. I pulled up to the place I thought belonged to Brian. A woman came out and ask if she could help me. I asked her where I might find Brain's house. She kept walking toward me and as she walked she said "who's asking?". I explained that Steve and Melissa had sent me. She said "oh!, he lives right up there at the top of the hill. So on I drove thinking "damn, people are suspicious here". I pulled up to the top and there were two guys standing over by a burned out motorhome. I pulled up to where they were and announced that I was lookin for Brian. This one guy who looked much like Charlie Manson came around the bus and walked up to the window. He said I am Brian. I got out and explained that Steve had sent me up with the the idea that he might fix my bus. he said he would be gald to take a look at her. Now folks, Brian looks rough as a cob, but in all truthfulness he is one great guy. Come to find out he is a vietnam vet that had been living here for many years. He is a mountain man with many amazing talents. First I found out that he had flown a Huey Helicopter186 missions while in "the nam" as he called it. The lifespan for these guys was usually only nine or ten missions. I had to ask him if he had ever come under strong fire. He explained that one night he had seen his whole fire base go up in rocket and mortar fire, and then overrun by cong. He spoke of this somewhat jokingly, b ut I am sure at the time he didn't feel that way. He said he sat in the top of a tree and watched the whole episode, he and his entire squad. Brian was a recluse, he had moved here a few years ago. I found myself wandering what horror he might be trying to rid himself of. The house he lived in was a horsetrailor, actually an army surplus horsetrailor that was built to last. With all of the innovative modifications he had made it was more like a motorhome. He was proud of it and spoke of it as I speak of the Mothership, like the important piece of his life that it is. Brian opened up the bonnet and started his assesment. He found out rather quickly that the plug wires were bad, then we found out the plugs were bad, then we found out the distributor cap was not in that great a shape either. He pulled the plugs, gapped them replaced them, and it still wouldn't fire like it should. He started to examine the vaccum system, all seemed to be fine. He finally resolved ourselves to knowing that it was getting late and tomorrow, Friday would be the day to approach it more fully at least I could get the parts I needed because Brian was going to make his weekly trip into Taos for supplies. I headed back down to Steve's place where I could bed down for free. I am sure Arron would not like this but he would have to live with it. I slept easy but could not fathom why the bus was acting out. The guy in Austin had set the mixture right and the points were brand new, so what else coule be wrong? I settled into my bag and went to sleep with a goodnight prayer and a hope for a good Saturday. It appears as if this trip has been nothing more than shop-hopping so far. I am spending more money on repairs than originally planned am honestly getting frustrated that each time I reach a new place, I have problems. Once again I find myself in the jaws of doubt and a need for home, regular work, and a steady paycheck. I hope these feeling's go away. I am loving the travel. "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"