49.8 miles

Last night’s camp was at about 6000’, and it was cold! I did okay wearing my fleece and my wool socks, and pulling the hood of my sleeping bag close around my face, but my feet never did warm up.

My front tire was a little soft this morning, but I just pumped it up and hoped it would hold. I bundled up in my warm gear and started the day’s ride. After a two-mile climb I entered New Mexico and began a three-mile downhill. I held the bike back, afraid that my tire would lose air. At normal downhill speeds, a flat would most likely ruin both the tire and the rim before I could get stopped, not to mention wiping out and sliding my bare legs down the asphalt. Shortly after reaching the bottom of the hill, I stopped to strip off my warm clothes. The sun was high enough to warm the air, and I was sweating.

I’d ridden out of the tall pines and into an area of brown grassland, shrubs, and trees. It was nice to see real trees again; I think they may have been some kind of aspen or cottonwood. Rocky mountains backed up the rolling grassland, reminding me that I’d be crossing the Continental Divide today.

At 17 miles I took a break at the intersection where I would join Route 180. I pondered what to do. I’m meeting my daughter tomorrow, so I really needed to get at least to Silver City, NM, today. That was 47 miles away. Added to the 17 I’d already done, plus the likelihood of flat tires, and knowing there was a long climb at the end, I didn’t think I could do it. I would need to hitch a ride at some point. I checked my front tire; it was going soft again. I stuck out my thumb.

It was a good place to hitch — near an intersection with a huge gravel pull-off — and the first pickup stopped. Lynn helped me load the bike in the back of her truck and drove me 20 miles to Cliff, NM.

The little store in Cliff didn’t have any inner tubes, but it did have an air hose. I aired up the tire, hoping it would last another 20 miles, but before I could start out it was going soft again. This time I found a tiny hole and pulled a piece of wire out of the tire. I don’t mind fixing flats near as much if I can at least find a reason for it and if I‘m off the road. Another patch, and I was on my way.

The 30 miles to Silver City was a nice ride. I even had a light tail wind for part of it. I remembered to eat and drink often, so when I started the seven-mile climb I felt pretty good. The climb wasn’t bad– certainly easier than yesterday’s climb. The road went up in stages, climbing, then leveling off, climbing, and leveling. Still, by the time I reached the Continental Divide I’d had about all I cared to do. My legs were sore, and my bottom side hurt.

Then, four miles down into Silver City. I stopped at the Super 8, but they were all booked up. It seems I rolled into town on homecoming weekend. Oh, no! I couldn’t ride any further. The girl at the desk called other motels until she found one with an open room. That’s the best service I’ve had in a long, long time.

My daughter, Traci, will be picking me up here tomorrow because I don’t think I can ride for awhile. I have a small rash between my butt cheeks, the side of my crotch where it rubs the edge of the seat is sore, I’m slightly raw in a very tender place, and — here’s a new one — the edge of the padding in my shorts is rubbing abrasions on both butt cheeks. I sure need these next days off!

34.3 miles

I don’t think I slept at all last night. The wind picked up, flapping the tent and blowing the sides in on me. I was tired from the get-go. I got packed and loaded, and when I started pushing the bike away from the campsite, I noticed the front tire was flat. When I fixed it yesterday, I didn’t find anything in the tire; it was just a bad patch, and I replaced it. Now I put a different tube in.

I continued pushing, and by the time I reached the road, the tire was flat again! (Are you counting?) I still found nothing in the tire. I guess all my old patches are drying out and letting loose. I put in yet another tube and started on my way.

Somehow I’d let myself get low on food. I ate a granola bar for breakfast, leaving just two granola bars and an energy bar to last until dinner. I really hoped the store 15 miles ahead was open.

I started the day with a six-mile climb and a light headwind. On the downhill side there was construction. A concrete barrier squeezed me into the traffic lane. After awhile, the cars didn’t even try to pass me, since I was going 35 mph.

I rolled, starving, into the little convenience store and bought food for breakfast and enough for the day. About a mile later I met Eric and Matt, who are bicycle touring from Maryland to San Diego. It was nice to talk to other cyclists again. Shortly after leaving the two boys, my front tire went flat. It was an old patch again. It doesn’t work well to replace patches, but I didn’t have a choice.

Then I started the ten-mile climb. I was hot, tired, and aggravated, and in no mood to climb. I struggled with the hill, but once I gave up my need for speed and accepted that I was going to spend the next three hours pedaling 4 mph — or slower, I relaxed into the groove, and the climb went much better.

I climbed that mountain, creeping around the switchbacks. I was almost there. Four miles to go. I was just starting the steepest part … No! The front tire was flat again. I could have cried. There was no place flat to work, and the bike fought me; it wouldn’t stand on the hill. I put in another tube — one with an old patch — and hoped it would hold. There’s nothing else to do. I don’t have any new tubes, and no chance to get any for 60 miles.

The last portion of the climb was along a beautiful canyon. Rock formations stood tall, decorated with small pine trees. I was thrilled to reach the top of the climb — I did it! The other side of the mountain was like an entirely different world. I’d climbed out of a hot, dry desert, and descended in the coolness of tall evergreens. I breathed in deeply the piney scent.

I’m behind schedule. I don’t have much water. I needed to ride another 20 miles. But today was brutal. I’d just about made up my mind to quit this adventure. I’ve had enough of the desert, the headwinds, the climbing, and the flat tires. When I came across a National Forest campground, I decided to stop and camp among the trees. Perhaps it will have a restorative effect.

48.0 miles

It was a quiet night. The air was absolutely still, making me wish I could ride at night. I fell asleep to the songs of crickets and coyotes, and woke only once to the lumbering sounds of a slow train.

I kept the sleeping bag pulled up over my nose until the sun began to warm the air, then rode two chilly miles to Ft. Thomas, AZ, for breakfast. The requisite group of old guys was there having coffee. I headed straight to the bathroom, and when I came out, only one of the men remained. “Old Joe” invited me to sit and talk. He was so impressed with my ride he paid for my breakfast.

By the time I resumed riding, the wind was picking up, and I had a slight headwind as I began a barely perceptible climb. I will be climbing for a couple of days as I approach the Continental Divide. Thinking of the Divide made me wonder if elevation caused my weakness and shakiness the other day. I’d gone from sea level to 4500’ in two days. I’m at 4000’ tonight, and tomorrow I will climb to 6000’.

It was a tough afternoon, and I didn’t ride as far as I’d planned. The sun was hot, the wind gently held me back, and the road continued to climb. I’ve developed a couple of sore spots on my bottom area, and had to keep stopping to remove pressure. Just before the real climb of the day, I had to fix a flat tire.

The climb wasn’t really that bad; it’s just that I was worn out. I started looking for a place to camp, but both sides of the road were fenced. I wondered if I’d have to just keep riding all night. I’d wanted to do more miles, but when I found a dirt road going through a break in the fence, I jumped on the opportunity. I rolled out of sight of the main road, then off to the side where the creosote bushes would hide the tent. It’s a pretty camp site, with hills and buttes to the north and east.

58.0 miles

The wind seemed calm this morning, and I packed up and headed out. But as I climbed the hill out of town, I realized it was almost as windy as yesterday. No matter — I had to ride. All day I fought the wind, pedaling both uphill and down. There was no coasting, and my legs hurt. I dodged rumble strips, overhanging brush, and traffic.

The traffic felt different today. Even though no one crowded me, the vehicles seemed to have an aggressive attitude. It felt as if drivers would just as soon run me over as not, if only doing so wouldn’t ruin the rest of their own lives.

There were no campgrounds or motels at the end of my day, and I was glad when I finally left the reservation so I could look for a stealth camp. I passed some handy-looking abandoned buildings, but they were behind fences. On the other side of the road, mesquite trees made a nice screen to hide behind, but it was just 20 feet from the railroad tracks.

Finally a dirt drive cut off to the right, up and over the tracks. The wire gate was down, and had been for some time. It looked as if there had once been livestock. I found a patch of bare ground for the tent. I’m not visible from the road — though I can sure hear it — and I’m not too close to the tracks. I felt like a real hobo cooking dinner on the ground within sight of the railroad.

2.5 miles

Even though I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, it was a mistake to take the day off. The next stretch of the ride crosses an Indian reservation. A permit is required to camp there, and I’ve been advised not to stop there anyway. That means a 50-mile day with no bail-out options. I should have ridden across yesterday when it was calm. When I peeked out the window this morning, my heart sank to see the flag flying straight out. If I had tried to ride in that wind, it would have been a 6-mph day. I couldn’t make it across the reservation at that rate. The TV news reported dust storms. That was the deciding factor.

I moved down the street to a nice motel, cheaper than last night, but not as grungy as the first. I unloaded the bike and rode into town for groceries. Even without the bags it was hard to ride into the wind. I’m meeting my daughter November 1 in New Mexico, so I’ll have to ride tomorrow, no matter what. I hope the wind stops.

I’m concerned about this inertia. If eight days off leaves me this unmotivated, how will I ever start riding again in the spring after taking several months off for winter?

2.9 miles

I slept hard last night and woke up late with a headache. I dressed to ride, and stocked up on extra water for the next long stretch at a convenience store. Then I rode to the other end of town and got a motel room. Things just didn’t feel right; I was too tired and weak to ride. I crawled into bed and took a nap for a couple hours. I’ll try again tomorrow.

40.6 miles

This morning Tim dropped me off at my route and we both went east; he went a lot faster than I did. It felt odd to be on the bike after eight days off. The bike weighed a ton, and I couldn’t ride straight; I wobbled all day. I felt weak, and my whole body hurt. How quickly one can lose fitness! I had a slight headwind, just enough to make the bike feel sluggish. The road started gradually climbing almost immediately.

After six miles I got a short downhill into Superior, AZ, where I stopped to visit the World’s Smallest Museum. It was a tiny building with one aisle and walls lined with glass-fronted shelves. The displays were varied, with items from about the 40s through the 80s. It included presidential campaign materials, memorabilia from TV shows and concerts, old cameras, quill pens, and a mimeograph machine. There was even an early HP pc with 10mb hard drive! It was an interesting collection.

Leaving Superior, I began a ten-mile climb. I was having a hard time. Sweat ran down my face, and I struggled to ride in a straight line. The Queen Creek Tunnel made me nervous. It was dim and narrow, the edge was littered with glass and gravel, and traffic was constant. The bike started wavering, and I had to stop partway through to get a grip on myself. Back in the sunshine at the other end, I pulled off to rest. I felt weak and shaken. Maybe it was exhaustion. I didn’t get enough sleep on my little vacation. I mixed up a sports drink, ate a snack, and rested until I felt stronger.

For the next few miles, the road wound upward through jumbles of red rock formations. It was pretty, but I couldn’t look at it without stopping. I had to concentrate on the road. The shoulder was negligible, and roadside shrubs reached in to swipe at my hands as I passed. Since most Arizona bushes have thorns, I avoided them by swerving into the road when I could. Often, though, the traffic was too dense, and I just had to take the scratches. Finally I reached the pass and started a nice, long downhill. The shoulder wasn’t good enough to let go and fly, but my legs were just happy to not be going uphill anynore.

As worn out as I was, I knew I’d be getting a motel room; I really needed some good sleep. I found a dirt cheap motel in Globe, AZ. You get what you pay for — enough said.

0.0 miles

Tim got to Tonopah early enough to soak with me, then next morning we took off for San Diego. On the way we stopped to soak at High Line hot springs, a free hot spring on BLM land right beside I-8 near Holtville, CA. It was nice, with a large and a small concrete tub, but the water was too hot to stay in very long.

We spent the night in the truck lot at a casino. I’d never been in a casino before, so Tim took me in to play the slot machines. How boring! It’s all electronic these days. Instead of hearing the satisfying plunk of a quarter in the slot, the clunk of the lever being pulled, and the ratchet-clicking of the fruit pictures spinning, we just fed in a dollar bill and pushed a button until the dollar was used up. I’d like to say I won enough money to finish my bike trip, but I didn’t. I coudn’t stand to be there long enough to play more than a couple dollars. I had to get away from the noise, the flashing lights, and all the stone-faced zombies staring at the machines and pushing buttons as if it were a job.

After we delivered the load Tim had on the truck, we had some free time. We left the empty trailer at a truck stop and drove to Imperial Beach. We spent a relaxing afternoon walking on the beach and watching surfers.

In the morning we picked up the next load and headed east.

0.0 miles

I ended up staying at the hot spring a third night, waiting for Tim to make his way back through. I will join him in the truck again for a trip to San Diego, a place I’ve never been. It seems I’m dragging my feet these days, not making much progress at all. But I want to spend as much time as I can with Tim, because once I start up the east coast it will again be difficult for him to reach me.

There’s no better place for me to be stalled this time of year than the hot springs in Tonopah. Even with the constantly humming interstate just a quarter-mile away, it feels quiet and peaceful. It’s sunny and hot, with cool nights. I like to do my soaking in the cool parts of the day. The fresh, clean scent of the water and the sound of it trickling over the edges of the tubs relax me. My tent is tucked away in the far corner. Bamboo-like reeds bend over the tent and the bike, creating a private little alcove that is shaded all through the day. Overflow from the tubs runs in a small ditch behind the tent, and I’m serenaded morning and evening by resident frogs. Light pollution and humidity are minimal, so there are so many stars visible at night that it’s hard to pick out the constellations. I even see the Milky Way, something I haven’t been able to see at home for years. This is a place where I feel at peace, and it’s always hard to leave.