ANOTHER HILL???

Well.

After the luxurious night at the fabulous Zane Grey RV Campground, the best campground on earth, we had our Ops Briefing where we learned that the first 25 miles was supposed to be "quite a climb," and then we would have lunch in the camper.  The second 25 miles into Payson was supposed to be downhill.

Of course, I didn't believe it.  I take the attitude of  "we'll see."  So, I rode up and up and up.  Every so often I would take a picture of the prickly pear cactus in bloom or check out a skeleton at the side of the road.  Then I would call and check on Peter with the walkie-talkie.  He was still walking his bike to save his knees.  Then gradually we had to resort to our system of call- two beeps means "OK," since the signal was going and we lost the "talkie" feature.  Soon by noon there was no more connection.

Lanny drove up and said Peter had gotten in for a power nap and re-filled water bottles and was back to walking his bike.  I re-filled mine and grabbed some more food.  Getting in the shade for a few minutes really helps with the stamina and morale.  So we communicated by drive-iee-Lanny.

We were following General Crook Cavalry Trail from Fort Whipple-Fort Verde to Payson, which was used in the late 1800's to visit deprivations on the Indians.  There were historic markers every so often to remind us of our proud heritage.

I ate in the camper at the half way point and continued on.  I found the downhill portion and the view was fabulous.  Green valley that smelled like vanilla pine, red and yellow buttes and little creeks.  There are lizards running along by the bike every now and then.  Amazingly, the road was recently resurfaced and it's a pleasure to ride on.  The weather couldn't be better.

Then I rounded the corner and saw ANOTHER monster hill.  The kind where semi trucks have to get helicopter assistance to climb.  I said, "shoot."  I got to the top and saw:  ANOTHER hill.  and so on.  I said, "OH."  I finally got to Payson at 7 pm and there were stores and stuff.  I found the Wal Mart and waited for the camper.

I made a Haiku.

       A day of big hills
       now the large WalMart people
      Mosquitos have feast

Lanny came at 8:30 or 9 and announced that he was springing for a night at the Best Western.
I have applied at the Vatican for his canonization.

The Best Western is my new religion.  We went shopping at the continental breakfast.
On to lovely Heber, AZ


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Peter's Post:

At 9pm last night, tired, alone and hungry in the dark, after flying down the all-to-brief hill into Stawberry, AZ, I went into the "Beer-Bar-Eats" biker establishment hoping to get a hot chocolate.

This order proved too difficult for the bartender lady.  I ordered instead a burger and diet Pepsi.  The seven other patrons laughed when I did this.  Once I realized that I wasn't going to get murdered, I told them about our trip.  The entire bar, including someone's puppy, looked up from their drinks and cheered when I announced that my wife had started the trip on her 50th birthday.

I guess I looked pretty bad, because even the drunks asked if I needed help on my ride into Payson.  I politely declined.

I told them about our blog and one of the truck drivers, who was maybe 30, said, "I don't do no computer-geek stuff."

Then I got in the camper with Lanny for the final 16 miles.  He convinced me that it was too unsafe to keep riding in the dark.

The End.

Glorious downhill

After a terrific rest day which we spent in Scottsdale with Peter's sister and mother, we met with my friend, Terry Hoffart to hear about his bicycle travels all over the country.

Then we raced back to Prescott to sleep in the WalMart parking lot and listen to the restful sounds of a giant motor coach running its generator all night long next to us.  We got up at seven, and I was in favor of pounding on their door to ask the time.  Peter settled for honking our horn as we left.

We were leaving Prescott as 1700 cyclists were assembling at the town square for a mountain bike race.  It was crazy!  There was a $30,000 first place prize.  I didn't have time to enter.

Unbelievably, we had a day that was mostly downhill, including a 6% grade that lasted for 10 miles.  The views were gorgeous as we descended from over 6000 feet to about 2000 feet in Camp Verde.  We could see buttes in the distance, caves in the cliffs, and all the colors of the desert.  I had to work to keep my speed under 35 mph.  It was amazing.

Meanwhile, our wonderful driver, Lanny got a new battery for the camper and scouted out the rv campground.  We're at the best campground ever!  It has a jacuzzi and brand new restrooms with showers and they rake the gravel in the campsites.  Of course, we fall asleep at dusk.  Good night.

Fellow Travelers

Well, we knew that lots of people cycle across the country, but it seems like you can't fall off your bike without hitting one.

We are passed by serious cycling folks in expensive, matching jerseys every so often. They carry their gear in saddle bags and are envious of our camper set up. Most of them don't talk much. It seems like they're conserving their energy and they don't have time for our unconventional bikes and our leisurely schedule.

We talked to a twenty-something couple at a mini-mart outside of Blythe who were decked out and super-fit. They were from Denmark or Sweden- their English was good, but we couldn't quite nail down some of the details- and they had a trailer on the back of one of the bikes. They were very interested to talk to us about our trip and ask us questions. They had flown to Denver and were riding the length of the Colorado River, which they hadn't realized was in the desert. They were astounded at the heat that they had never experienced. Then we found out why they were holed up at the mini-mart. They had an eight-month-old baby with them and it was 102 degrees outside. He was happy to play on his blanket in the A/C. I was happy to be childless. Very Happy. La la la.


The camp host at the Colorado River had his trailer with a screened in porch that held a full-sized refrigerator and a giant flat screen TV. There was a big wooden sign over the door that said "BUCK". We gave him our recycling. He said thanks without looking away from "Hoarders."

We stopped at a diner in the desert one morning and two regulars were there having coffee. They wanted to know all about our trip and how we had planned it. They were sure that we were unprepared and basically nuts. One of them was a retired truck driver who wanted to tell us the dangers of getting sucked under a semi. Which we agreed sounded dangerous. "You don't get it. I'm telling you, I saw a guy get sucked under the dualies one time. Parts was flyin' out. I mean, arms, legs, ears, guts, PARTS of the actual GUY." I was anxious to assure him that we got it. "You just don't know." Okay. But in addition, there was no way to get the message across that at least, now we did know. Even if we had already heard of it. "I'm tellin' you. I saw a foot with no SHOE on it even. And the BLOOD." I get it, I get it. Really. Peter, of course, smirked. "It ain't funny." Anxiety provoking, strange, the stuff psychoanalyst's dreams are made of, yes, but funny, decidedly not.


Peter has the knack that reminds me of Grandpa Ribley's - he can strike up a friendly conversation with any stranger. So, he talked with an older guy who was riding past in the morning heat on our second day. This fellow declared himself a "tramp". He lives in the desert, under a wash overpass near an immigration check point and rides his bike into town 20 miles or so for supplies. He has retirement money from a government job and is quite happy to be free of the troubles of home ownership and things like interacting with people and electronic devices and running water and so forth. He insisted that his proper designation was "tramp". Probably for census purposes.

Another cyclist passed us going the opposite direction near Glamis, CA. He stopped to ask Peter if he was okay as Peter was walking his bike, which he always does on hills. This guy had ridden from Oregon across to Maine, down to Florida and was now making his way to San Diego and would finish after a whole year, in Oregon again. By himself. He was having no trouble with the heat or the terrain. I looked with the binoculars and saw them chatting away on the asphalt in 105 degrees. I was in the shade. Drinking water.

200 miles of Hot Heat

Today is our first rest day! It feels great.
We are camping at the Colorado River. Yesterday we arrived in Blythe, CA in 105 degree heat. We rode early in the morning and slept in the camper from 11:30 till 2:30 and rode again. It was a 60-mile day. The desert was in bloom and that was neat.
We rode our bikes from the beach in San Diego to the Colorado River! It's so hot...Hayden, Peter and I went floating in the river and it felt great.
We had gone two nights without showers and I had slow moving children caught in my hair.
The weirdest things so far are sleeping outside in the Walmart parking lot and also the "town" of Glamis. Glamis is a big sand box full of crazy people who sleep during the day and ride around in dune buggies all night. Hayden found it quite restful. Peter found it horrific.
Meeting lots of interesting people. More about that next time.

Day 1

Top: our mascots blue pupy, weaslie and sharkie wait for Peter to return from the Little Transam Boys Room

Middle: looking back on part of the 7-mile 1000-ft rise to Julian, CA

Bottom: Finally, here he comes!

Finally starting

Torrey Pines State Park at 5:50 am

Leaving with the Camper

We loaded up the 4Runner and drove to Whitter to pick up the camper from our cousins the Huffakers.
We gained a rider, Ella's friend Weaslie.  He'll travel across the country with us.  Ella was clear about getting him back at the end of the trip.

Weaslie is very interested in the trip to San Diego.

Our first driver is our nephew Hayden.  We are driving to San Diego to start pedaling on Wednesday.

Ella and Gavin present their camper for our trip!

The Huffakers with their camper:
Andy, Gavin, Ella, Yvonne, and Weaslie, who is coming along on our trip to see the country.

Everything but the Kitchen Sink

We're off to Southern California to pick up the camper!

Last-Minute Silliness

We have a tent!  The newlyweds can sleep outside and avoid the crowds.

We start driving tomorrow!  We are running around saying things like, "Ok, this is the last time I have to vacuum for three months."  " This is the last load of laundry before we go!"   and "This is the last time I have to yell at the dog."  etc.

Peter is loading up the 4Runner to look like the Beverly Hillbillies' Truck.    We have so much stuff that we can have a yard sale on the road.  We could set up a MASH unit with all the medical supplies he's bringing.  Or create a set for Oklahoma! in a parking lot-  we have enough tools to do it.

My job was loading the ipod with audio books and buying plane tickets for certain RV drivers.  I packed my Dr. Suess bike jersey (thank you, Suzanne) and my spare undies.  I'm Ready!