Day Nine: sprawl, AJFD, lost dutchman

When I woke up at 4:30, after four hours of sleep, I realized the trip was over for me. I couldn't keep going. It was an odd sensation of certainty - Phoenix would be as far as I made it on this trip.

While I was having my epiphany, Klaus walked into the room. Klaus Kuras, the guy who has pedaled 8,000 miles across three continents, suggested we go back to sleep for another couple of hours.

I was asleep within thirty seconds.

When I woke up at 6:30 my outlook had changed markedly. I was refreshed and ready to ride. I felt ready to ride, I felt good, I felt...

Wait. Did I just say I felt GODD at six thirty in the morning??? For your information, you will never EVER hear those words come from me again. And maybe I should change it to "better" instead of "good" so I don't ruin my reputation.

At 6:35 Wayne Pinkerton called... just to see how I was doing. Man, what a guy.

We left Dave's at 7:30. For about ten miles we were able to pedal on a bike path with no traffic. It was a nice path, and we were able to talk more easily than if we had been on trafficked roads.

It was there that I learned about some of Klaus' previous traveling companions. One guy, although a nice enough guy, never ONCE during their one thousand miles of traveling together, take the lead in drafting. Klaus pulled him for several weeks. Another guy was wanting the ride to be an "expedition" trip, so he tried to make it as tough on himself as possible. That's fine, but he also never spoke. Even in the evening, camped ten feet away, he never said a word to Klaus.

By 10:00 it was 91 degrees, but we were making pretty good time and had done 25 miles by 10:30.

Even after 25 miles we were still in the suburbs of Phoenix. It seemed to take forever to get past all of the stoplights and traffic. I didn't take many pictures because it was pure suburbia. Anyone want to see pictures of the suburbs?

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Lunch, still in the burbs, consisted of a Subway sandwich. One of their fountain drinks was Powerade so we each filled a water bottle with it. Klaus says it tastes like blue gum, but it does quench your thirst pretty effectively.

From mark on a bike 08

Late that morning I called the only hotel near where we'd be stopping for the day. $105.00. Ouch. Still, I was already feeling the near 100-degree temperature and was past caring.

From mark on a bike 08

Apache Junction is the last outpost of the Phoenix sprawl. We stopped at the grocery store to buy supper and a few provisions.

The last motel for miles is just a few miles up the road.

Klaus doesn't want to stop this early or spend that much money (when you're spending 8 months on the road you CAN'T spend that much) so he'll continue riding and camp somewhere on the side of the road.

On the way out of town we passed the Apache Junction Fire Station. On the spur of the moment, Klaus suggested we ask the firefighters if we could camp near the station. On my very first trip I camped in the yards of fire stations a number of times, and was regularly invited inside.

We were met by Geof, one of the firefighters, and explained our situation, asking if it would be alright to camp there.

He said he'd need to ask the Captain and ushered us into an air conditioned foyer while he checked.

A few minutes later he and the Captain, also named Jeff, invited us inside. We also met Mike and Dan, the other firefighters on duty for the evening.

Geof gave us a tour of the station, which was really quite impressive. It's less than two years old and they've taken good care of it.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

We ended up spending the afternoon and evening with them, out of the heat, which was quite a blessing. That evening Jeff invited us to eat with them. They were grilling and although they didn't have enough steaks, they did have extra sides of baked potatoes, bread and other goodies.

We climbed on the bikes and rode back to the grocery store. There we bought some sirloin steaks and returned to the station. Mike was already seasoning the steaks. I seasoned mine, then took a shower while he grilled them.

From mark on a bike 08

Jeff, who was raised here, told us the story of Jacob Walz and the Lost Dutchman Mine.

Jacob Walz was actually a German, not Dutch. In the late 1870s he wandered out of the Superstition Mountains, which are within sight of the fire station, and into history by bringing with him a team of mules loaded with gold. After a few weeks of frequenting saloons he would disappear into the mountains again. No one was able to track him to his strike, and each time he returned he would bring another load of gold.

On his deathbed in 1891, Walz left a riddle that has frustrated and captivated gold seekers since: "There's a great stone face looking up at my mine. If you pass three red hills, you've gone too far. The rays of the setting sun shine on my gold. Climb above my mine and you can see Weaver's Needle."

For "insurance reasons," we weren't able to stay in the station during the night. If the firemen got called out, we'd be there alone. However, there is an AIR CONDITIONED conference room in the front of the station which is separate from the rest of the building. At bedtime, they could lock off the main building from the conference room. We even had our own restrooms. They weren't really supposed to do that, but I think they realized we're pretty harmless.

Our fire station "campsite":

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

We enjoyed their hospitality and their company.

A quote from Geof: "Everything in the desert either bites, burns, or stings."

47.11 distance
10.9 avg
20.7 max
4:17:17 time
404.1 total miles

Day Eight: rest day

I slept on and off until 9:30, then dragged myself out of bed and pulled out the phone book. After some breakfast Dave had to go to work. So did we.

I started by pulling out the phone book. I counted sixty bike shops in the area. We picked some with the same area code and made a few calls. Klaus has a method of finding the biggest shops in town. He just picks a random one and says, "My friend was telling me about a huge bike shop in town. Is that you?" It works well.

We stopped at three of the bike shops. I bought a jersey to see if it helps with the heat, new toeclips (the cages over the pedals) since my right one broke yesterday, and a new cyclometer. I'd really like to keep accurate records of my mileage so I don't end up in Detroit or someplace, and my wireless one seems to be getting worse.

Klaus needed some things, too. When he was asking the bike shop employees questions it was interesting to see the change in their attitude when I mentioned that he's traveling around the world on his bike and has already done 8,000 miles. He went from being a guy with a foreign accent taking up their time by asking questions to someone with instant credibility. (It's easier if I drop the information. Otherwise, it sounds like he's bragging)

We had lunch at Oregano's then drove to the internet café so I could upload some pictures and post some blogs. It's been difficult keeping up with the postings, not only because at the end of my riding day I sometimes feel like locking myself in a closet, but also because internet access has been so spotty.

After two hours at the internet cafe it was time to get going. We stopped briefly at the grocery store, then drove to the airport to drop off the car. We had planned to meet Dave near the airport where I could gas up the car but Sky Harbor sucked me in to it again, and by the time it regurgitated me fifteen minutes later I was lost. Dave waited about an hour for me to drop off the car.

We ate at the Olive Garden and didn't get back to Dave's until 9:00. I washed clothes and put my new cyclometer and toe clips onto my bike. I also raised the handlebars (in an attempt to help with the numb finger) and did some packing. By the time I went to bed it was 12:30. I set the alarm for 4:30.

My rest day today was productive, but not restful. Reading back over it, it was also a pretty boring day to read about. After Day Three, an occasional boring day is okay with me if it's okay with you.

0 miles

Day Seven: drafting in my living room, surprise, the finger

We woke up at 4:30 (groan!). Klaus noticed his tire was flat so he spent a few minutes repairing it. He's become very fast at repairs over the years.

After stopping at Circle K we left town a few minutes after 6:00.

We had a nice downhill ride for a while but the headwind evened things out.

The sun rose slowly and shone on the red rocks and hills. The harsh, rugged landscape looked simultaneously inhospitable and alluring. It was quite an impressive sight.

From mark on a bike 08

Because of the wind, we took turns drafting, switching after doing one mile each. In addition to being tall (about 6' 2"), Klaus has a big bike (31 pounds) and carries a lot of equipment (90 pounds plus another few pounds of water).

What that means is that drafting behind him is like sitting on a stationary bicycle in your living room. When I say sitting, I mean SITTING - I didn't even have to pedal a lot of the time, and spent my time trying to figure out how to attach a small DVD player to the back of his bike. I don't think he would've noticed the extra weight.

From mark on a bike 08

Oh, and YES, that IS a carton of milk.

Unfortunately for him, drafting behind me is like trying to protect yourself from Hurricane Ike by holding up some dental floss.

We stopped only briefly along the way, to eat an apple, to switch our empty water bottles for our full ones, and to snack on a Clif bar. We made good time.

From mark on a bike 08

Thirty one miles later we arrived in Surprise (which, of course, elicited more jokes), a town on the outskirts of Phoenix, at 8:30.

Klaus LOVES Starbucks, and even has them programmed into his iPhone so he'll know where they are along our route. It was just starting to get hot so we stopped for a cool drink.

Bigger cities can be a real problem when you're used to smaller ones. Normally, when we stop someplace we can see the City Limits signs on both ends of town. Now, having "arrived" in Phoenix, we felt a sense of completion. Unfortunately, we still had thirty five miles to go. And that's CITY riding, which means stopping at every traffic light. Of course, we still had our headwind, only it was a little stronger now.

The heat and wind prevented us from arriving at our destination by noon, our original goal, so we stopped at Wendy's for lunch.

Eventually, after a couple of miscues on the directions, we made it to our stop for the next two nights. A friend of mine, Dave Nutz, lives in Scottsdale, which is a suburb of Phoenix. He was nice enough to offer me his extra bedroom when he found out I was going to be in the area.

Actually, that would be me AND a total stranger.

The three of us, plus another friend, Mike Gruba, went out for Chinese food at Flo's.

From mark on a bike 08

During my training, even before the start of the actual bike trip, one side of my right index finger has been going numb. Over the course of my trip the numbness has been getting worse, and has by now extended up to my knuckle. Because Carpal Tunnel Syndrome is so common in bikers, I assumed that's what was wrong.

Dave is a doctor and, after only minimal whining on my part, he took a look at it. In about fifteen seconds he determined what was REALLY wrong with it. There's a nerve in each finger that splits at about the knuckle and I had been compressing it while riding.

There are a lot of things I need to get done during my day off tomorrow, so I called a few places about renting a car. When I looked in the Yellow Pages I found that the Scottsdale airport (just around the corner) rents cars so I reserved one. I was told they're open until 10:00.

On the way back from supper Dave dropped me off at the airport. When I entered the building I walked into a starkly empty airport. My footsteps echoed on the shiny tile floor. Fortunately, Dave had waited outside. We went back to his place and I started the process over. The only place to rent a car after 5:00 is at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, so Dave drove me all the way to THAT airport, which took an additional forty minutes each way.

Sky Harbor Airport is like a giant black hole. When we were trying to leave, it kept sucking us back in. After several attempts, we finally extricated ourselves and headed back to his place.

Tomorrow is a rest day and I'm looking forward to sleeping late.

66.081 miles
60.2 max
12.0 avg
5:29:20 time

Day Six: car wash, the tradition, massage

I woke up at 4:00 and wasn't able to fall back asleep. (There's just something really wrong about that) My alarm went off at 4:40 and we started getting our gear together. Klaus gave me some of his Mueslix for breakfast and after getting everything loaded onto the bike we were on the road by 5:15.

It was still dark, but there weren't any cars on the road. And, most importantly, it was cool.

Klaus has a headlight powered by a generator (which is INSIDE his hub) and we both have taillights. We pedaled through the dawn and into the rising sun.

After about thirty miles we stopped for a break in Aguila (pop. 600) to refill our water bottles and buy some Gatorade. There were some high school girls on the side of the road holding signs about a car wash. I was wondering how they made any money - Aguila is the largest town around, off the beaten path since everyone uses I-10, and it only has a population of 600. I don't think five cars passed during the time we were there. Still, they were very enthusiastic and having fun.

On the way out of town a guy was crossing the road. I could tell he wanted to talk so I stopped. His name was Dave and he's interested in starting up a place for bicyclists to stop and camp. We showed him our maps and told him if he wants bikers to come he needs to get on the Adventure Cycling Association's list of services so he can be included. A couple of minutes later we mentioned Adventure Cycling Association again and he said, "Huh? Oh. I should write that down." Then he began talking about his plans again.

Klaus gives him a thirty percent chance of opening his camp.

We went through the town of Love and, like yesterday's town of Hope, we made our corny jokes.... "I'm in Love," "I'm not falling in Love," "I'm no longer in Love." har har

Once we left Aguila there were no other places to stop until Wickenburg. We even looked for small patches of shade on the side of the road. It was heating up fast.

We passed the Vulture Mountains on our right and, a little later, Eagle Eye Peak. I always love seeing the names of places on my trips.

Because we're traveling east, the sun is generally on our right. Interestingly, since Klaus has been going east for the past six months, everything on the right side of the bike is faded. I've been strategically putting more sunscreen on my right side so it's more protected.

Sometime that morning one of Klaus' spokes broke. On a touring bike, unlike on a racing bike (some of which only have four spokes), a broken spoke isn't an emergency so he made a mental note to fix it at the hotel.

Klaus has a tradition. At every 1000th kilometer he drinks a beer. He tries to find an appropriate beer depending or what country he's in.

After consulting his map he realized that he would hit his 12,000th kilometer BEFORE Wickenburg so he started looking for a place to get one.

In this part of the state not only are there very few towns along the road, there are very few houses, so I was surprised when I saw Klaus pulling over to the other side of the road.

He rolled up to a locked gate at the end of a dirt driveway and a dog immediately started barking. A man had emerged from the house, a single-wide mobile home set back from the gate an additional fifty yards, and was walking across the dirt yard to his truck. Klaus called to him and he strolled over to us.

He was in his early twenties, stockily built like a guy who might like to ride bulls for fun. Or perhaps wrestle them. He had short blonde hair and a serpentine tattoo on the right side of his neck.

After he made his way over to us, Klaus explained his situation... That he's from Germany, that he's riding his bike around the world, and that every 1000 kilometers he stops and drinks a beer. Drinking a beer seemed to appear a perfectly normal thing to do at 10:30 in the morning, so the guy walked back toward his house to talk to his wife.

I could hear part of what he said above the dog. "There's a German guy wants a beer.... on a bike."

He returned a few minutes later with three cans of beer, then immediately cracked one open and took a swig. Klaus then had to explain that he couldn't drink it yet - he had to wait until the 1000th kilometer. Then he tried to pay the guy but he wouldn't take any money.

Except for the last fifteen miles, the road to Wickenburg was a slow, gradual climb. We stopped regularly, drank a lot of water, and did a lot of sweating.

The landscape was now looking like scenery from an old western movie, and I kept expecting to see John Wayne ride past us in the distance. Saguaro cacti dotted the desert, and it was quite striking.

From mark on a bike 08

We rolled into Wickenburg (pop. 5082) about noon. Klaus was keeping a close eye on his odometer and when he said, "Here! This is 12,000 kilometers," we were within 100 yards of our hotel.

Having been raised in Texas, where in some counties you have to fail a sobriety test to get a driver's license, I'm ashamed to admit that I don't like beer. It just tastes too.... beer-like. Still, this is a momentous event and I didn't want to diminish the importance of it by saying to my new German friend that I didn't want any beer.

He opened the two cans of HOT beer and we took some pictures of the occasion. After a few swallows he said, "God, this is awful," and we poured the rest out.

A GERMAN guy pouring out beer?!? Wow. Mark you calendars.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

At the hotel we unpacked, showered, then walked across the street to El Ranchero, a Mexican food restaurant. Good Mexican food has been notoriously hard to find since I moved to the Midwest so I've been eating it on a regular basis now that I'm farther south.

Even just walking across the street was painful because of the heat. The food was pretty good, and Klaus ate his first sopapilla there.

Back in our room I laid down. In an attempt to make up for waking up so early I thought I might take a nap. I drifted to that stage just before you fall asleep, but that's as far as I got.

Once I realized I wouldn't be taking a nap, I thought how great it would be to get a massage. When we lived in Rochester our friend Joanne told us about a woman who would come to your house and give you a massage for a really reasonable fee. Although we never took advantage of it, it seemed like a great idea, and I wondered if there might be someone here who would offer the same type of service. So, I looked in the yellow pages and called. Perhaps I should've tried harder to take a nap.

As soon as the words came out, "I was wondering if you would come to my motel room to give me a massage," I realized how it sounded. "Uhhhh.... I... uhhh... don't really... do that," she tactfully replied, and had the kindness not to hang up on me. Or call the police.

A storm blew through, depositing ten or twelve large, gloppy raindrops, and the temperature dropped to pleasantly tolerable, so I sat out by the pool and blogged.

That evening we had pizza and root beer delivered to our room, then Klaus replaced his broken spoke.

I set my alarm for 4:30 and we turned the lights off at 10:15.

From mark on a bike 08

55.259 distance
11.5 avg
4:48:23 time
? ? ? Cumulative

Day Five: Brenda, Klaus, Clean Restrooms

Yes, I REALLY woke up at 4:45. It was still dark when I left at 5:15. I attached my red flasher to the back of my bike and pedaled away into the darkness.

At the convenience store on the edge of town I bought some powdered donuts and energy bars. As I was about to pay I noticed a novelty item and bought it, too... A children's light necklace. It's the kind where you break it, some chemicals mix, then it glows for a few hours. I needed less than one hour.

Once outside, I sat down and ate my breakfast. Shortly after that I put on my new piece of jewelry and left town.

From mark on a bike 08

I feel a lot better today. I feel.... saturated, something I haven't felt since I arrived in the Mojave Desert.

I crossed the river east of Blythe and entered Arizona. I always try to take a picture of my bike next to the state signs as I cross them but there wasn't one.

This picture was taken as I crossed the Colorado river bridge into Arizona.

From mark on a bike 08

There was a climb which began at the river dividing the two states, then a short descent into Quartzsite where I refilled my water bottles.

By 6:15 I had pedaled ten miles, one fourth of my goal for the day.

Leaving Quartzsite, I began climbing again and would continue to do so until about six miles before Brenda.

Part of this route put me on Interstate 10, but the shoulder was quite wide and it was actually kind of nice when the 18-wheelers blew past me because the wind they created pushed me that much farther up the mountain.

Here are some pictures from the road.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

The scenery is actually prettier than the pictures make it appear. It's the kind of stark beauty you see in deserts.

By 8:00 I had done twenty miles, and was still feeling pretty good. The cooler (though still warm) temperature really made a difference. Occasionally, I even felt a cool breeze coming off the mountain, but it only lasted about two seconds.

With the temperature in the 90's, I rolled in to Brenda at two minutes before 10:00 - just as my cellphone was ringing. I wasn't able to answer it right then, but the caller left a message:

"This is Jane at the Black Rock Motel in Brenda. We received your message about a motel room. Our motel is not open at this time of year because our air conditioner is not sufficient for this heat, so we're sorry, our motel is not open. Good-bye."

Brenda has a population of zero. It has a grocery store and a restaurant. The restaurant, like the motel, is only open October through May. The only inhabitants are the snowbirds who come to the two RV parks.

I sat down at a table and thought about what to do as I drank a very cold soft drink. Nothing came to mind, so I started another one.

While I was sitting there willing myself to stop sweating, the cashier struck up a conversation. Her question about how far I planned to make it tonight prompted an answer of "I don't have any idea," and an explanation of why.

After giving it some thought, she suggested I try calling Desert Gold, the RV Park. They have a room they rent, and she looked up the number for me.

I learned they charge $53.99 per night, but there's a two-night minimum. The lady at desert Gold suggested I try calling the other RV Park, Brenda's RV Park. I called, but Brenda's charges exactly the same as the Desert Gold. The lady at Brenda's also told me I should try calling Desert Gold. "Perhaps they have a room," she said.

While I was sitting there trying to decide what to do, another bicyclist came in. He got something to drink and asked if he could join me.

His name is Klaus Kuras, a 42-year-old IT Program Manager. His trip began at his home in Frankfurt, Germany, about 7500 miles ago. He traveled across Europe, Russia, Mongolia, and China. He was in Beijing during the Olympics, then flew to Los Angeles, biked to San Diego, and ended up in Brenda, Arizona. His goal is to ride around the world (and you thought I was crazy). Once he reaches Florida he'll fly to France, then ride home during the winter.

From mark on a bike 08

Interestingly, this man who pedaled across the Gobi desert, passing dead camels who weren't able to survive the heat, decided that he was going to start waking up very early and riding until noon because of the temperature.

We talked for half an hour or so while he had a couple of drinks and cooled down as well. Eventually, it was time for him to go - he's trying to do at least 100 kilometers (about 68 miles) a day so he can get to Florida before his visa runs out.

I was really kind of stuck, unsure about what to do, when he suggested we ride to Salome together. Seeing how limited my options were becoming in Brenda I thought what the hell... And said sure.

Stepping outside into the heat was like getting slapped in the face, but we climbed on our bikes and started riding.

The ride to Salome was uphill, but not steep. We stopped frequently, and I drank more than my body weight in Gatorade. I also poured water onto my head, neck and back.

I can't remember... Did I mention it was hot?

We stopped in Kofa (pop. Unknown since it's not even on my map which includes towns with no people) for lunch, a cheeseburger and multiple refills of Dr. Pepper. Klaus didn't know about free refills on soft drinks in America and I'm sure he's going to take full advantage of it during his stay in the States.

An interesting perspective about drinking... Last night Klaus ate at the Sizzler and ordered a meal which comes with a free drink. Understandably, he wasn't very happy when he was told that beer isn't one of the options. It DOES say a free drink, and beer IS a drink... It's one of those cultural things that we just know about and people from other countries don't.

From our waitress/cashier/owner I learned where the name of the "town" comes from... it's an abbreviation of King of Arizona.

I spent a little longer at the cafe than I wanted because the sign in the front said "Clean Restrooms." Fortunately, they weren't very dirty so it didn't take me too long.

From mark on a bike 08

We left at 1:00 with ten miles left to go. We had more climbing, but it was still gradual.

We went through Hope and made jokes about it then saw this sign, misspelled but still funny, at the edge of town.

From mark on a bike 08

It was somewhat easier riding with Klaus. In addition to the conversation making the miles slip by faster, I also drafted most of the way. Drafting is a technique in which one person rides behind another person, staying in the slipstream and avoiding some of the wind resistance.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Even so, I began fading during the last five miles and was really glad to see the Salome (pop. 1690) city limits sign.

After about a fifteen-minute wait the owner, Marjorie, finally showed up - she was picking her daughter up from soccer practice. She also told us what activities there were in town this evening, i.e. watching the high school football game, but I pictured griddle marks burned onto my butt which exactly match the lines on bleacher seats and decided I would prefer to burn myself on my own terms.

We got a room with two beds and I immediately turned on the air conditioner.

From Marjorie, the owner, we also learned that there were three other cyclists at the motel, and that an ambulance had just been here right before our arrival because one of them was sick.

Klaus had met the three of them a couple of days earlier. Their names are Hewes and Susan Agnew. Hewes, a retired cardiothoracic surgeon, and his wife have traveled several places around the world on their tandem (a bike for two people). Their friend, Paul (also a doctor and an experienced cyclist), apparently got dehydrated in the heat and stayed in his room so I didn't meet him.

I took a long, cold shower shower, then the four of us met for supper at the town's only café, a Mexican food place across the street. We enjoyed a long meal together, then went back to our rooms. I wrote down my mileage as soon as I got to the motel because my odometer has been acting weird. It's a good thing I did, because when I returned to my room after supper it said 139 miles. By the time I went to bed it said almost 200.

Jeez, no wonder I'm so tired.

I set my alarm for 4:40 and went to bed at 9:00.

63.659 distance
10.6 average
5:59:03 time

Day Four: rest and rehydration day

I woke up with the sunrise. Mornings are really pleasant here. I slept very comfortably on top of my sleeping pad and sleeping bag, using my sleeping bag liner for a sheet. I didn't need a tent because there were no bugs.

I blogged a while, then walked over to the bait shop where Wayne was visiting with a friend of his, Steve.

Steve and Wayne are in the process of starting a recycling business and they discussed some of the hurdles.

I STILL had no cash and needed to go to the bank. When Wayne found out he offered me a ride since he was going to the bank anyway.

One would think a bank would cash a traveler's check. One would be wrong if one thought so.

Even the bank....

When Wayne found out they wouldn't cash my checks he asked the banker if I could sign them over to him, then he could just give me the money. The cashier, a friend of his, glanced very quickly in my direction then said to Wayne in a slightly softer voice, "You know you're liable if something happens."

He hardly missed a beat. "Aw... He's a friend of mine," he replied.

And the $400.00 transaction was completed.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa, and his name is Wayne Pinkerton.

Back in the truck, I insisted on taking him and his girlfriend out for supper. He'd been so helpful, you know, practically saving my life and all, that I really wanted to do SOMETHING for him.

He said that sounds good. Then, after a pause, "Or maybe I'll have you over for some barbecue tonight."

Sigh....

Heather persuaded me to take today off (it wasn't a hard sell) so I pedaled the three miles into town and rented a cheap hotel at about 10:30. It was already in the low 90's, and by the time I got checked in I was dripping with sweat. After turning the AC on high, I took a shower and settled in.

Later, I walked across the street to the Sizzler restaurant for some lunch but there were two full buses of people in front of me so I went back to the room, got my bike and slowy pedaled down the street to a Mexican food place.

After that I went to the library where I needed to do some things for my future employer, then went back to the room and blogged the rest of the afternoon.

At one point during the afternoon I turned on the TV to see what the temperature was (106 degrees).

Wayne called at 6:40 to say he wasn't going to be able to make it to supper because his girlfriend wasn't feeling well, but wished me the best of luck on my trip.

The rest of the evening consisted of washing and drying a load of laundry, walking across the street to eat at Sizzler, and talking to Heather.

Problem solving: It's too freakin' hot to ride after noon, so I decided to start waking up early and riding until 10:00 or 12:00, then check into a hotel. My plan tomorrow is to ride the 42 miles to Brenda, AZ, and stay at the Black Rock Motel.

Just to make sure things went smoothly I called the motel to make a reservation. No one answered so I just left a message with my name and number. A couple of hours later I tried again.

I packed, set the alarm for 4:45 and went to bed.

5.79 distance
21.2 max
12.3 avg
28:13 time

Day Three: my worst day of touring. Ever.

I had the air conditioner on Hi Cool all night and slept really great. Because I wanted to get in some miles before it got too hot, I woke up early and was rolling by 8AM. It was still pleasantly cool when I left.

I stopped at a Circle K on the way out of town and bought three energy bars and 2 liters of Gatorade. That should be enough to get me to Glamis where I'll eat a quick lunch and climb over the hill to Palo Verde.

When I tried to pay for the energy bars and Gatorade with a traveler's check the guy looked at it like it was a precious historic artifact. He held it gingerly between his index fingers and thumbs and said, "Wow. I've never seen one of these before." Then he added, "Sorry. We don't take checks." "But it's a TRAVELER'S CHECK. Everyone takes them," I rebutted as people began stacking up behind me. That was the extent of my debating skills and he countered with, "Sorry," thus ending the discussion. I used my credit card and left with no more cash than I had walked in with.

I shouldn't have been surprised. When I was at the bank the teller told me they only had five sets left and he didn't think they'd be getting any more. I guess people just don't use them.

I rode the fourteen miles to Brawley (pop. 22,052) and refilled my water bottles at a convenience store on the east side of town, my last outpost. While I was there I asked the cashier if they take traveler's checks. He didn't seem to know what they were, either. I should've tried the brilliant debating skills I'd used on the last guy. Maybe it would've worked with this guy - he didn't look as smart as the other guy. But was he dumb enough to give money to a guy dripping with sweat, wearing funny clothes, and trying to spend a type of currency he's never seen before? Probably not.

The temperature rose rapidly on the way to Glamis. As I was riding I began seriously wondering whether I was going to be able to make it to Palo Verde. By 10:30 it was in the mid- to upper 90s. I was already burning up, stopping anywhere I could find even a small patch of shade, even a ditch.

From mark on a bike 08

After a while I stopped wondering about whether it WOULD or WOULDN'T be dangerous and began wondering just HOW dangerous it would be for me to ride the rest of the way. An additional factor to consider is that there would be 1500 feet of climbing. Still, I would think about over a long cool lunch in Glamis and decide at that time.

From mark on a bike 08

When I arrived in Glamis shortly before noon I was very relieved when I walked into the air-conditioned store. I grabbed an ice-cold Coke and asked if they take traveler's checks.

The man behind the counter looked to be around 65. He was obese and sweating in his overalls, even in the cool air. When I interrupted his concentration of Judge Judy on the TV behind me he was visibly unhappy but never glanced my way.

"He wants to know if we take traveler's checks," he announced to the room, then emitted a wheezy laugh. Then, just to make sure I didn't misunderstand him, he firmly added, "No." He did, fortunately, take credit cards, so I asked him if I could wait and pay for everything I wanted at once. The only other person in the building was also behind the counter and gave me a nod.

The cafe is only open from October to May, so I was limited to the grocery store items. The MAIN thing I wanted was to cool off so I found the only chair in the store and plopped down onto it. Now that I was in the cool air I REALLY began sweating. I was just starting to feel a difference when the owner/cashier saw me and said, "This ain't no cafe where you come in and sit down. You buy something.... Then LEAVE." This time he was looking directly at me.

I was dumbfounded. I honestly didn't have a response so I gathered up my stuff and walked over to pay for my drink.

When I tried to use my debit card so I could get some cash it said "system error," even after two tries so I gave the assistant my credit card to pay for my Coke. He told me there was a $10.00 minimum, but by that time I just wanted to leave. I said I didn't care. I also added that I just wanted to leave because that other guy is being a real bastard. I was pretty unhappy.

Great. Now I'm outside at a picnic table, thinking. And sweating. Boy, did I show him.

Bicycle touring, like everything else in life, is about problem solving. Of course, this is a completely different set of problems than the ones you encounter at work or sailing a boat or choosing where to get a haircut.

My current problem: I'm at a picnic table outside the only building in Glamis. I haven't eaten anything but a couple of energy bars this morning. I don't have any food, nor do I have any money to buy food. It's at least 105 degrees, and I have over 30 miles of riding, most of which is uphill.

Broken down, it's: Do I stay here, or Do I keep going. That seems pretty simple. I CAN'T stay here with no food or water.

So, I need to leave. Do I ride or get to Palo Verde some other way. I have no illusions about what I can and can't do. If I ride, I'll end up in the ER. That means I need to find another way to get there.

I decide to hitchhike, so I rolled my bike to the road and stick out my thumb. Hitchhiking isn't something I really want to do, and was embarassed that I'm having to "cheat." In all my years of bicycle touring I've only hitchhiked one other time, during my 1982 trip, and it was only about 400 yeards over a dangerous bridge, and only so I could say I hitchhiked. This is different - it feels more like failure. Still, if not wise enough, I'm at least old and experienced enough to know when I should NOT be riding.

A guy with a loaded touring bike is somewhat of a curiosity so I didn't think I'd have much trouble catching a ride, especially since about three fourths of the passing vehicles were trucks.

Apparently, I wasn't that much of a curiosity because three hours later I was still standing there.

Oh, and did I mention it was hot?

During that time I asked a couple of Border Patrol if they knew anyone I could pay to take me to Palo Verde. (Since I had no money my plan was to have them drop me off at the bank) They didn't know of anyone and they themselves were going in the opposite direction.

My Adventure Cycling maps have emergency numbers for the sheriff. I decided that this was at least semi-urgent. After I explained my situation to the dispatcher, that is, that if I keep riding I'll be going to to the hospital, she let me know that "We're not a transportation service. You might try calling a taxi service." She was kind enough, however, to provide me with the number to a taxi service which, when called, connected me with a five-and-dime store in Blythe.

After some initial confusion on both our parts, the lady there gave me the correct number for the only local cab company: Reliable Transportation.

Reliable Transportation may be reliable, but at $300.00 I would have to think about it.

Problem solving.... I was running out of ideas.

At that point, I decided to go back into the store and buy a bunch of food in spite of the jerk who was running it. Just suck it up and go get some stuff.

When I walked back to the door it was locked. They closed at 3:30, fifteen minutes ago.

I went back out to the road and stuck my thumb out.

By now I was starting to feel despondent.

I ate my last energy bar, a melted confusion of chocolate, nuts, and caramel, and started thinking.

Back to problem solving. Do I keep riding or do I stay there. I can't stay. I have no food, and I drank most of my water while trying to hitchhike.

That means I start riding. By now it was nearing 5:00. I'll eventually be riding in the dark, but at least I'll be moving.

It's hard to convey how hot it is using words. People say, "It's like an oven." But, what you don't understand is that IT'S LIKE AN OVEN. Preheat your oven to 120 degrees and stick your hand in. Or your head. There is no breeze. There is no shade anywhere in sight. Glamis is where the Star Wars desert scenes were filmed. No matter how much water or Gatorade I drank it just wasn't cooling me down. My heart rate, even after I'd stopped riding for a while, continued to hover around 100 beats per minute (borderline too high). And, underlying it all, was a mild nausea which had begun in the morning and remained with me all day.

Before I left Glamis I called Heather. While talking to her I did think of one other possibility. If you read last year's blog you know about warmshowers.org. It's an organization where you can sign up to let people pitch a tent in your back yard while they bicycle across the country. Many people also offer a shower.

While I was riding, Heather looked up the closest guy on the list, called him, and explained my situation. Three long, searing, dizzying miles from Glamis I got a call from a guy named Wayne Pinkerton. He talked to me and quickly realized I was in no shape to ride so he closed his store 45 minutes early and drove AN HOUR to pick me up.

This is where I waited for Wayne.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Wayne doesn't bicycle; he just heard about warmshowers and thought it sounded like a fun way to meet some interesting people so he signed up a couple of months ago.

"Interesting." Huh. I guess that's supposed to be me. The dumb, sweaty guy.

He picked me up on the side of the road at dusk with a cooler full of soft drinks, Gatorade, and beer. I guzzled a couple of the Gatorades right away, then started on the water.

On the ride back I saw the terrain over which I would've been riding. Rolling hills with no shoulder. Invisible in the troughs until the last second. Not the best place to be riding after dark.

We stopped at a fast food place and Wayne bought me some food, then took me out to his bait shop where I set up camp on a pier. It was too warm for a tent so I just used my sleeping bag. I took a shower and felt a lot better.

These pictures were taken the next morning.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

At the end of my day Heather frequently asks, "Are you having fun?" Today could only be described as "fun" if I were the sort of person who enjoyed sticking a fork deep into my thigh, snipping off my fingers with a set of pruning shears, or giving myself multiple papercuts on my eyes.

No. Today was NOT a fun day.

However, it wasn't necessarily a BAD day. I'm not so naive or inexperienced to believe that all days are going to be fun. However, I'm not dead or in a hospital, I have a new friend, and today WAS an adventure. Not one I'd care to repeat, but an adventure.

45.22 miles
12.3 average
3:41:19 time
The cumulative odometer somehow reset itself

Day Two: salsa, quick calculations, safety first!!!

I woke up early (for me) and, after a breakfast of coffee cake and chocolate milk, left the campsite at 8:00.

This sign is on the door of the campground's grocery store.

From mark on a bike 08

Here are a few other pictures taken along the road.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

I climbed all morning, a steady and not necessarily unpleasant grinding up the mountain, passing through Pine Valley, over the Tecate Divide, and through Live Oak Springs. I had a headwind the whole way, but it wasn't too bad. Even though the temperature this morning was only in the low- to mid-80's I still drank three water bottles.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

In Boulevard (pop. 415) I stopped at the Salsa Lynda Cafe and ordered huevos rancheros. At the opposite end of the spectrum from Ramona's, these huevos rancheros were ranked as second best (and possibly the best) I've ever eaten.

The owner/cook, Armando, noticed the empty water bottles on my table and offered to fill them for me with "the best well water in the area. It's still got all the minerals in it," he proudly announced. "Very sweet."

The sign in the bathroom read:

From mark on a bike 08

I haven't figured out the meaning yet, and I'm sort of afraid to.

Armando and I chatted a while longer and I learned that he makes 18 different kinds of salsa. The salsa for the huevos rancheros, for example, is different from the salsa for the dip. Not bad for a guy who used to be a construction worker, a cement worker, a roofer, and a few other things before opening a cafe. And the water WAS sweet.

From mark on a bike 08

Leaving Boulevard I had a brief climb, then coasted into Jacumba (pop. 400). Jacumba is less than half a mile from the Mexican border. Out of the first ten vehicles that passed only one wasn't Border Patrol. Off to my right you could see a huge fence going up. Even without the huge barricade I don't see how something even as small as a chihuahua could get past.

From mark on a bike 08

I kept hearing noises that sounded like gunshots but it was probably just noise from the construction and my overactive imagination. Probably.

From Jacumba I had another brief climb, then plummeted almost 3000 feet into the valley below. For this section, because there IS no other way, bicyclists travel on Interstate-8 along with 18-wheelers and RVs. The shoulder is very wide, though there is a lot of debris. As long as I didn't see any debris from bicycles or bicyclists I didn't get too worried.

The temperature began to rise dramatically during the descent.

Ocotillo is my "point of no return." If I keep going, I need to make it all the way to El Centro - there's nothing in between but twenty miles of heat. When I arrived it was a few minutes before 5:00.

I did some quick calculations... 20 miles to El Centro at a pace of 10 mph (slow enough to ensure I don't overheat)... that would put me there right around 7:00 when it's dark. That's doable.

I stopped at the bar/grocery store in Ocotillo just long enough to refill my water bottles and answer a few Frequently Asked Questions. On my way out I asked the cashier how far it was to El Centro.

The problem with quick calculations is that you sometimes leave out an important element - like accuracy. Three minutes later it registered, "Did he say THIRTY miles? I think he did."

Okay, so I'm a little slow. According to my quick calculations, now I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike.

My ACA map said this section of the road is rough. When it's bad enough for them to warn you, it's going to be REALLY bad.

From mark on a bike 08

So I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer.

The heat is oppressive. That sounds so trite, but it it was horrifically hot and I could feel my core temperature rising.

So I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer. In the heat.

Oh, and factual tidbit from the slow guy on a bike: as darkness was descending, I realized that being on the EAST side of a mountain range causes it to get darker earlier.

Which means... I was having to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer. In the heat. In the dark.

Could it get worse? Yes, but I'll stop adding to the list.

I went through Plaster City, which isn't really a city. It's just a giant manufacturing plant... of plastic, I presume.

About a third of the way between Ocotillo and El Centro, tooling along at a pace which would hopefully balance my time constraints and my rising core temperature, I realized that the scale was tipping.... I was overheating. Even at a pace well below 15mph I was still getting too hot. After thinking about it for a minute, I considered taking off my helmet. I read that a person loses 40% of their body heat from the head and neck areas so I wondered whether, in spite of my helmet's advertising claim of having "SIXTEEN MASSIVE AIR SUCKING VENTS," I might be cooler if I rode without it. What would be safer? Riding with it or riding without it?

Okay kids, remember: SAFETY FIRST! Don't wear your helmet!

Looking back, I'm kind of glad that statistic said "head and neck" instead of "groin and butt."

Just past Plaster City the elevation dropped below sea level. I'm now in the Mojave Desert, and it's over a hundred degrees even at dusk. I drank three liters of water before lunch and four liters of water after lunch, plus one liter of Gatorade. Even so, I didn't urinate a single time all day. Not that you want to hear about my urinary habits - it's just to say I was pretty dehydrated.

I have a small battery-powered red flashing light which I clipped onto the back of my bike as dusk descended.

I arrived in El Centro after dark and checked into a motel. It was much too hot to camp, and besides, the nearest campground is five miles off my route.

I was EXUDING heat, and even a cold shower only helped a little.

Too tired to go out for supper, I ordered a pizza delivered to my room. They didn't accept traveler's checks so I used my last bit of cash. I'll need to get some more cash tomorrow.

Just like during last year's trip, my right index fingertip has gone numb.

Shortly before going to bed I looked at the map and my heart sank. Brawley is fourteen miles down the road. There's a small note on the map, which I should've seen earlier, that says, "SERVICES ARE EXTREMELY LIMITED BETWEEN BRAWLEY AND PALO VERDE. PLAN ACCORDINGLY AND CARRY FOOD AND WATER."

Palo Verde is 84 miles from here. That means, unless I camp on the side of the road in the heat, I'll need to ride either 14 or 84 miles. Today's ride, half of which was through temperatures below 90 degrees, just about wiped me out. I really don't know if I can make it.

88.177 distance
34 max speed
11.4 average
7:43:00 time
120.68 cumulative

Day One: the first day of Autumn, Jack, and the World's Worst Burrito

This morning I said good-bye to Cathy and Greg and pedaled down the street away from their house.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Now, riding down the street, one mile into my 3,100-mile trip, the thought floats to the surface of my consciousness: WHAT WAS I THINKING????????

It happens at the beginning of every trip. The Voice of Reason: "You're xxxx miles from home... On a BICYCLE??? You can't do this!!!!!!" Then, after a few more turns of the crank, another voice speaks up, this one sounding more like a little boy: "You're xxxx miles from home... On a BICYCLE!!! YEEEHAAAAW!!!!" So much for the Voice of Reason.

The map at the top of the page isn't just for decoration. It shows the topography of my route from San Diego to Phoenix. As you can see, there's a steep ascent starting on Day One. Last year, if you remember, I was so excited on my first day that I pushed harder then I should have and only ended up making it up the first set of mountains with the help of the manufacturer of ibuprofen, some excellent music, and by traveling at a tortoise's pace. This year I'm determined not to make the same mistake.

Five minutes into my trip a guy on a bike pulled up beside me. He looked about 70 and was wearing a brace on his left knee. I thought, "Old? Near death? Bad knee? Now HERE'S a guy I can keep up with!" Of course, I was wrong. He passed me but with my riding skills I eventually caught up with him - as he was coming out of a Porta-Potty along the bike trail.

From mark on a bike 08

He was kind enough to ride a little slower and we traveled together for 22 miles. I learned that his name is Jack, a native San Diegan who retired ten years ago from working in the UCSD lab.

As we were talking he suggested I turn onto the Father Junipero Trail (pictured below), which is where I was supposed to have turned had I been paying attention. So, when he later suggested an alternate route which had less traffic, I thought it would be a good idea. "It's a little rougher, but there won't be any cars." When we got there, I understood why - there were only PIECES of cars that had fallen off.

From mark on a bike 08

We missed a turn because he was talking, then missed another one shortly after that for the same reason. I didn't mind, though. It's the first day of Autumn, the weather is a perfect 70 degrees, and it's going to be a short day anyway. Besides, I was intrigued by the tour guide information: "A man was shot and killed right here at this corner a few months ago," "An 8-year-old boy was hit by a car and killed last year.... riiiiiight about here," and "My sister lives just down that road." Eventually, he turned south and I continued east. All in all, he made the 22 miles fly by, and I'm glad our paths crossed.

I stopped in Alpine to eat lunch at The Bread Basket. While there, I called the public library. I'm not exactly sure how it happens, but almost every time I'm in a town and want to go to the libray, I'm there on a day they happen to be closed. If I'm in town on a Wednesday, the library will be closed Sundays and Wednesdays. Today is Monday. The Alpine library isclosed on Sundays and Mondays. I also called the campground (to make sure they're open), and the hotel in Pine Village, just in case I'm feeling ambitious later in the day. After finding out a room was more than I wanted to spend, I decided I would NOT be ambitious. (Pine Village is farther up the road, and it doesn't have a campground, so I would HAVE to rent a hotel)

After eating and resting a while I started riding again but only made it a half mile before being drawn to an old-fashioned diner, Fred's, which had homemade chocolate shakes for half off on Mondays. That'll make up for a closed library anytime. Twenty minutes later I was on the road again.

This is a picture os an unusual-looking house along the way.

From mark on a bike 08

I stopped for the day at Ma-Tar-Awa RV Park for the night. It's on the Viejas Indian Reservation, a couple of miles off the route. The campsite was nice and the manager even gave me a site with electricity for no extra charge.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

There's no cafe there, only a small store with a few microwaveable items. In this unlikely place I discovered.... the World's Worst Burrito. I've eaten bad food before. After all, I AM a guy. ("Huh? A house shoe? Not a waffle? Oh.") I've even eaten the famous "Gut Bomb" from the Mexican food place in Mill Valley, and I've intentionally done it more than once. But a Ramoana's (I may have accidentally spelled it with an extra "A") bean and cheese burrito exceeded all expectations.

I carefully followed the directions, wrapping it in a paper towel, heating it, turning it over and heating it some more. When I unwrapped it the paper towel was stuck to the burrito, which was actually a good thing, considering the taste and texture of the tortilla. You have to give it to them for truth in advertising, though... It doesn't say "beans and cheese burrito," just "bean and cheese burrito."

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

The people who work there are really nice, and if Betty is reading this I hope she realizes that it's no reflection on her. I was happy to be able to get anything to eat, and what should a person expect to find in an RV park?

It's kind of weird taking a trip this late in the year because it gets dark so early. Last year I remember still seeing light in the sky at 10:00. Now, it's dark by 7:00.

32.503 distance
54.9 max speed (obviously, this is incorrect - some type of errant electronic wave is causing it)
8.9 average speed
3:38.12 time (on the bike)
32.503 cumulative odometer