23 to 25 June Kms
travelled – 23,799
I was really starting
to get confused with the changes in time zones.
We´d already been across a few zones getting to the US, but to date
the time changes had been resigned to international border crossings. Having to change zones within a single
country, somehow was causing more confusion to my electronic gear and my body
clock. Well, that was my excuse for the later
than planned departure from El Paso!
It was still pretty
early, however. But as we left the city
on the interstate I was already sweating and being buffeted by the swirly
breeze that sought to squeeze through the city´s surrounding hills. And it was still 5:00am! Then it was onto the
plains and calmer skies as we made some progress across New Mexico´s desert
landscape. I recorded a number of
warning signs dotted along Interstate 10 highlighting the poor visibility in
the area due to dust storms, and prayed that the wind would stay down until we
had passed through the area. Despite
Idris and my somewhat grubby state, I had no wish to be sand blasted clean by
the increasingly hot desert.
I made a decision at
Lordsburg... well, that is not entirely
true... I made a decision about 10 kms
after Lordsburg when the Interstate took a 90 degree left turn and exposed our
side to the increasing wind. But it
wasn´t so much the side buffeting that caused me to pause (as we had been
through worse), but rather the sight of a car and trailer around 300 meters ahead of me being flipped over
twice by a gust that was channelled through a gap in
the small hills that accompanied the road.
Luckily the driver was OK and once that was settled and emergency
services on their way, I decided to retreat to Lordsburg and take the more
scenic, older, and somewhat slower western highway (70) through the Apache
reservation. An inspired choice as while
it added a couple of hours to my travels that day, it took me through some
lovely green valleys, rolling hillsides and out of the way country towns that would have been missed in the midst of head down interstate driving.
As noted, the road also took us through the San Carlos Indian Reservation (a bizarre
name for the home of a people that were traditionally neither Spanish speaking
or Christian). And this was pretty
rough country. It wasn´t rough
on either Idris or I – we had good roads to travel after all. But I couldn´t help thinking back to how this
land would have been in the days when the reservations were imposed on the Apache. The landscape was undulating,
but seemingly without water or means of irrigation. Consequently, plant or animal life was not immediately
apparent. No doubt the Apache were able
to scratch out a life here, they did after all, but it must have been hard
without access to modern technology and resources. I couldn´t help thinking that they really did
get the rough end of the stick, and perhaps this was justified motivation for
some of the disquiet we have read about in US history. That aside, it was nice to see them still
here and I had an interesting chat with a couple of locals at a drinks stop
just before exiting their lands (near a first nation owned casino complex which
now provides much needed income and employment for the area).
The road (60) took us
onwards through Globe and some nice riding into the Tonto National Forest. Now I couldn´t help giggle at the
name. Sorry, I know it is an Indian name as you will recall from the Lone Ranger
TV series of years gone by. But tonto
also means stupid in Spanish – and I couldn´t help wondering if Hollywood knew
that fact when naming the masked stranger´s sidekick? hmmm. The main reasons for my giggles on entering
the Tonto National Forest were, however, the apparent lack of any meaningful
tree coverage! There was an interesting
display of medium sized shrubs and some nice rock formations – in fact the
whole area was very pretty in a stark sort of way – but where were the trees? A stupid forest indeed! (I later discovered that most of the trees
are further to the north).
The road down to the
desert plains was great, and if anyone is in the area and seeking a good place
for a road ride you could do a lot worse.
In fact, given the volume of bikes that passed it seemed to me that this was a favourite run for Phoenix based bike riders. Because it was towards that big
city we were now heading as the true heat of the Phoenix desert hit home. I have never ridden in anything like it.
Perhaps the city is well named as some sort
of animal rising from the furnace-like desert in which it is placed. I have previously described riding in hot countries as something
like riding with a hairdryer blowing in your face – at least the Spanish lowlands
in mid-summer can seem that way. The
only way I can describe that last hours´ ride into the Phoenix city suburbs was like
riding with my entire body inside a fan oven!
I had to stop twice to take on fluids as I felt myself dehydrating by
the minute, and it was only with relief that the GPS led me straight to my cousins’ home.
Catching up with
family is always a pleasure, but particularly so when they are family members
you haven´t seen for over 20 years. It was also great to meet Maggie, Delany and Gracie for the first time (the latter having just celebrated her birthday – and who´s party I had crashed on my arrival). They were cool enough to let me crash at their place for a few days much needed
rest and recuperation. Needless to say I
had a great time chilling by the pool and enjoying the benefits of lovely air-conditioning.
Access to a washing machine was also a blessing, as my whole set of gear
was starting to repel even my own somewhat numbed senses.
Many long chats and talk of days gone by
ensued, as I was treated to some fine hospitality. And even Idris made a couple of new friends! I was in much need of a rest day, not having
had one since Guatemala, and I couldn´t have asked for a better place to
recharge.
I very much hope that Mrs Pat
and I will have the opportunity to return the kindness shown in the not too
distant future. Thanks all.
Thought for the day
I was about to post
this entry a few days ago with a very different thought for the day about our roots, family and how they always
provide a much needed tie to who we really are... when I was struck into inaction by some
horrific and shocking news. A friend
fell while riding on his holidays in Texas, and died. This larger than life character was hugely
supportive of my journey and my cause. I
valued his friendship. His intelligence,
humour and genuine kindness will be truly missed. It is hard to find any meaning in such
events.
Not surprisingly, this
tragic loss made me pause for thought.
It made me think more carefully about those ABRs who I had heard had lost
their lives during the course of this trip.
The couple who went down on Patagonia´s tricky Ruta 40 early in the year,
and the very experienced overlander hit by a wayward truck near the Bolivian
capital. Plus the rider who´s time only recently
ticked out on the Dawson Highway in Alaska.
You hear of these losses while on the road, but almost subconsciously put
the deaths to the back of your mind. My friend´s
death, however, reminded me that we could be called at any time, and that we
should seek to live each day in the best way we can. He did.
He was one of the best. He was
one of the good guys. He was not an
overlanding ABR tackling extreme conditions, but a loving father and husband on
holiday with his family. My heart goes
out to his wife and daughters. Rhinestone I salute you.
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