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Yes, Heart Attack hill was a good humbling way to start the ride. Keep everyone honest for the next few days...or just go ahead and kill em outright. 
Truth is, we had the top in sight but I whimped out.
For anyone who hasn't made the acquaintance of this little piece of real estate...It's a long, steep hill with a "trail" about 2 feet wide. The sides go straight up on the left and drops to the bottom of the world on the right. The "trail" is covered in loose gravel, rocks and baby heads...where it isn't washed out as a gully. It gets steeper as you climb and looks like a series of ski jump ramps, each topped by a few feet of less steep steps. These steps are a real handy place to aim for when you discover the front brake and rear tire won't hold the bike from sliding backwards downhill.
JT had made it up to where I was and hit the same combo of baby heads, gully and incline that downed me. Nothing at all dramatic...just bounce in the wrong direction...choose to live...let up...lose momentum....stall out...lay it over...and pant like Lassy on dexedrine. I had walked up the trail to see what we had above us...more of the same...and steeper. Think I caught a glimpse of Beelzebub up there chuckling on a stump...could have been those green chilies still working on me.
Going down to help him get his bike righted and going again was a challenge on foot. We were pushing and spinning the tire but not moving an inch. I was behind his bike getting a solid dirt shower when I looked down to see his rear tire buried to the sprocket. All this on an incline that made just standing feel like a hard night on cheap tequila and bad tacos. Think greased marbles on an escalator with a @***! motorcycle constantly pushing backwards real hard. Oh, and blinding-choking dust too.
Could we have gutted it out and made it happen? Sure. These three chaps are as fine a riding mates as you'll ever find and we were helping each other with a robotic automation as if there were no other way things should be done. Call it the code of the west or whatever...
I was out of juice. Whipped and winded. JT was determined to keep trying until I threw the "no fun" flag. And, it took some whining on my part to convince him.
Next challenge was how the heck to turn a bike around in this stuff without rolling down this hill like a suicidal pinball tumble weed. We got his bike pointed downhill by holding the back, leaning it uphill and rocking the bars left and right...letting gravity have its way with the front. Just getting back on the bike while exhausted and balancing over the abyss with the thing trying to slide down is a whole nuther story. JT took off toward Mototex and Sam. Once moving downhill, there is no stopping. It's really just a controlled slide most of the way. Lock up the rear and it starts coming around to race with the front. Use the front brake too much and some really awful things can happen. Hit a step...grab some brakes. Down the ramp...try to stay in control while getting away with what little brake you could. Soon as that back starts sliding forward...let up and coast...hope to make it to the next step. And, breath.
Well, that's my take on Heart Attack hill during a New Mexico drought. It kicked my scrawny butt and threw dirt in my face. Would I try it again? Need you ask...
Truth is, we had the top in sight but I whimped out.
For anyone who hasn't made the acquaintance of this little piece of real estate...It's a long, steep hill with a "trail" about 2 feet wide. The sides go straight up on the left and drops to the bottom of the world on the right. The "trail" is covered in loose gravel, rocks and baby heads...where it isn't washed out as a gully. It gets steeper as you climb and looks like a series of ski jump ramps, each topped by a few feet of less steep steps. These steps are a real handy place to aim for when you discover the front brake and rear tire won't hold the bike from sliding backwards downhill.
JT had made it up to where I was and hit the same combo of baby heads, gully and incline that downed me. Nothing at all dramatic...just bounce in the wrong direction...choose to live...let up...lose momentum....stall out...lay it over...and pant like Lassy on dexedrine. I had walked up the trail to see what we had above us...more of the same...and steeper. Think I caught a glimpse of Beelzebub up there chuckling on a stump...could have been those green chilies still working on me.
Going down to help him get his bike righted and going again was a challenge on foot. We were pushing and spinning the tire but not moving an inch. I was behind his bike getting a solid dirt shower when I looked down to see his rear tire buried to the sprocket. All this on an incline that made just standing feel like a hard night on cheap tequila and bad tacos. Think greased marbles on an escalator with a @***! motorcycle constantly pushing backwards real hard. Oh, and blinding-choking dust too.Could we have gutted it out and made it happen? Sure. These three chaps are as fine a riding mates as you'll ever find and we were helping each other with a robotic automation as if there were no other way things should be done. Call it the code of the west or whatever...
I was out of juice. Whipped and winded. JT was determined to keep trying until I threw the "no fun" flag. And, it took some whining on my part to convince him.
Next challenge was how the heck to turn a bike around in this stuff without rolling down this hill like a suicidal pinball tumble weed. We got his bike pointed downhill by holding the back, leaning it uphill and rocking the bars left and right...letting gravity have its way with the front. Just getting back on the bike while exhausted and balancing over the abyss with the thing trying to slide down is a whole nuther story. JT took off toward Mototex and Sam. Once moving downhill, there is no stopping. It's really just a controlled slide most of the way. Lock up the rear and it starts coming around to race with the front. Use the front brake too much and some really awful things can happen. Hit a step...grab some brakes. Down the ramp...try to stay in control while getting away with what little brake you could. Soon as that back starts sliding forward...let up and coast...hope to make it to the next step. And, breath.
Well, that's my take on Heart Attack hill during a New Mexico drought. It kicked my scrawny butt and threw dirt in my face. Would I try it again? Need you ask...
I have been wanting to join some riders at Cloudcroft, but I would need to to provide my company advanced notice. When I go I would be bringing an orange bike, towing my home (including the kitchen sink) and wanting to know the best place to camp. Would that be a problem?
that way, they can't go riding without you. 
Sam
It sounds kind of like one of the ATV trails we attempted when I was out there with Rsquared and Wasabi in May 2010. Had a rock wall on one side and a drop on the other, then turned and went STRAIGHT up the mountainside. Water was running down the tracks and the dirt had mostly been washed away, leaving big loose rocks and ruts. After two drops, I finally made it to the top just through sheer determination and was barely able to get the KLR's kickstand down before flopping off the bike onto the ground to wait for my heart to quit trying to beat its way out of my chest. I think the top was right at 9000 feet. Eventually, Roger came trudging up the hill as I was walking down hoping to see the guys just around the next corner... He told me that there was NO WAY Wasabi was making it to the top. He was already exhausted after a few drops and fighting his KLR. We had to go back down... A nasty storm was moving in on us as well... I made the ride back down with the engine off, coasting from one spot to the next, stopping at each to think out the line to the next. The front tried constantly to wash out and the rear constantly tried to lead the way. We were all REALLY happy when we finally got back to the hotel.