Please excuse the weird fonts and editing. It's hard to do this on a phone.
My current whereabouts via satellite tracking can be found here:
https://share.delorme.com/RayDixon
Day 1: Sierra Vista - Parker Canyon Lake
Driving into Sierra Vista, I first saw the blimp tethered about a half mile above town. I read later that it contains a radar to detect illicit air traffic coming across the border. Then, at a traffic light, a Predator drone fluttered above me while approaching to land. They are serious about immigration / smuggling enforcement here. But apparently the volume is so high that they can't stop it all. Plus, the migrants/smugglers are ever more sophisticated. They have all the tech -- night vision goggles, etc -- and the information on where law enforcement and sensors are located. They probably have some inside connections as well.
The next morning I pedaled out of town. I went over some rolling hills on pavement until I got to the entrance to Coronado National Monument. The border was a dark line of fence a couple of miles away. But here there were ordinary ranches and American flags and smooth pavement. I cycled into the monument where it was mostly deserted. There was a visitors center where I stocked up my full 8 liter water capacity. The road turned to dirt, and I headed uphill.
The next morning I pedaled out of town. I went over some rolling hills on pavement until I got to the entrance to Coronado National Monument. The border was a dark line of fence a couple of miles away. But here there were ordinary ranches and American flags and smooth pavement. I cycled into the monument where it was mostly deserted. There was a visitors center where I stocked up my full 8 liter water capacity. The road turned to dirt, and I headed uphill.
I should have checked the maps first, although I don't know that I would have done anything differently. The ride started off with a 5000 foot climb to Montezuma Pass. This is ridiculously hard for someone who spent all winter in a sedentary job. Sucking down water, I pedaled and pushed my bike up the switchbacks. The sun beat down more as the day went on. After awhile, I was going from tree to tree and stopping in the meager shade. I was totally crushed from the beginning but pushed on. Finally I made it to the top, where I flopped down at a lookout point with shade. There I spoke with some birdwatchers from Boise about this and that. Mary and Chris were very nice but I don't know much about birds! They shared with me some salami and chips which gave me much-needed salt.
After a spell I continued down the other side of the mountain. Near the bottom was a little dirt side road that led to the border. My GPS said it was a 500 foot elevation drop (and return) but I figured I had to see it since I was so close. So I turned on this little road and headed down.
It is a little eerie, going to the border. The place was utterly deserted, but I felt some unease all the same. With all the hype about transient people in the neighborhood, I was jumpy. I wasn't really worried about migrants, but the smugglers are some pretty bad dudes. I am armed but I don't really want to be put in that situation. So I spent a few minutes and took a picture at the border before heading back. The border was just a barbed wire fence along a dirt two-track. There was an anti-vehicle barrier along the bottom made of old rusty train rails.
On the way back up, there were numerous beeping sounds coming from the surrounding shrubbery. No doubt the motion detectors knew my presence and that I was being examined by some faraway (or nearby) video camera. Apparently the authorities didn't think I was a threat and I passed on without contacting anyone.
This was only half the journey that day. I pedaled along a deserted dirt road for miles. There were no more huge climbs but it was rolling country the whole way. After awhile, all I could do was coast down the hills and walk my bike any uphill. Even the straightaways were now so tough that I had to walk. My butt hurt pretty badly. After several hours and several false summits I spied Parker Canyon Lake down below. As with every road around here, there were uphills even when it looks like it's downhill. I couldn't even pedal the last hill into the campground -- I sat for awhile at the sign and then walked. Eventually I rolled into the campground, which was lovely, and set up camp. That night I was very cold but put on my pants atop my long johns and a down vest inside my sleeping bag and I was OK. That seems to be a common theme for this trip: roasting during the day and freezing at night.
At the border
Distance that day
Total distance so far
Day 2: Parker Canyon Lake to somewhere in the Canelo Hills
This was a day that would live in infamy. I thought for sure it would be an easy cruise to Patagonia, AZ -- a bit of a rest day after the beating I took the day before. I spoke awhile at camp with a friendly birdwatcher, and it was 11am before I struck out. This was a bad start since the sun starts really burning by about 11:30 am, as I probably should have known by now.
The trail started innocuously enough, descending into a canyon. I played some tunes and felt really happy, hopping through rocks with views of faraway peaks. Soon enough the trail became more technical. I dismounted to walk down so I didn't injure myself. The bike handled pretty well with all the gear, but it was still a bit ungainly. The trail was rocky and sandy and not the greatest for loaded biking. On the uphills I found myself pushing again. Soon the uphills became really arduous and with the baking sun, I fould myself running out of energy.
I wasn't that concerned with water since the trail was only 23 miles or something and I figured 4.5 liters would be plenty. But with the trail becoming increasingly more difficult, coupled with the beating sun and almost zero shade, I was sucking down water like crazy. It was so dry in those crispy sun-baked hills that I felt like I was losing a teaspoon of water every time I exhaled. I started to worry a little about water, so I consulted my Arizona Trail guide which indicated several possible seasonal water sources. If they existed, they would be trickling streams or stock tanks -- not the greatest but certainly usable. Everything that the guide indicated might exist was dry as I passed it. Bone dry. I continued on 100 feet at a time, gasping for air and dreaming of shade. After a time I checked my GPS and saw that I had only gone six miles. I wasn't going to turn around, so I pressed on, thinking things would look up.
Nothing got better as the day went on. The searing sun was occasionally broken by the shadow of a soaring raptor. It was completely silent and I was very much alone. I started looking at my GPS to wonder if there was a road I could take to get out of this mess. There were a couple of roads indicated but it's difficult to tell where they go or what shape they are in. Sometimes a road is marked that has been abandoned long ago and only goes up to an old mine or to nowhere at all.
Sitting under a small tree, I took stock of my situation. I was pushing so much weight uphill. I had bought a $200 camera for the trip that was awkward and ungainly but I figured I could mail it back to myself at the next post office. I had 50 rounds of 9mm target ammunition that I thought would be fun to shoot in the desert. I shot one bullet out of boredom and threw the rest in the desert, saving myself a couple of pounds. I considered leaving my bike and walking, then coming back to get the bike after I was in better shape. But I didn't do that either. I ended up pushing my bike to the next indicated road crossing, which was rough and appeared to meander in an undefined direction away from where I wanted to go. So I kept walking/pedaling. I figured if all else failed I could camp out here but it was all thorns and rocks and perhaps also undesirable people.
At the next intersection there were a couple of roads which split off into different directions. With rapidly depleting water and heat exhaustion, I was done with the hills and wanted just to get back down to a paved road that led to civilization. I clicked on my Garmin to figure out where to go, and... nothing. I tried it again and again and was met with a black screen. I smacked it and tapped and changed the batteries, nothing. So my only choice was the trail (indicated by a narrow map on my phone app -- with no outside information) or some road that led... anywhere. I elected to stay on the trail because there was a potential water source ahead. I descended into another canyon and into a clump of dark trees where the alleged water source was. But there was nothing but sand.
Stumbling and pushing my bike, I headed out of the canyon on the other side. At this point, I finally decided to pull out the stops. At the risk of terrifying my mother, I sent her a text on my Delorme Earthmate satellite tracker (a five-star piece of equipment, by the way) and asked her to find me a way out on Google Earth. She soon determined where I was and found a road that would lead me out. After many satellite texts and several wrong turns (it's a 10 minute interval for tracking points), I was on a road that would lead me somewhere. A ghost town, actually, but with the possibility of water. Along the way, I passed a stock tank that has some brownish water covered in algae and flies. Since I was still about 9 miles from the ghost town which may or may not have water (and didn't, in the end), I decided to fill a two liter bag of the stuff, not wanting to look at it. Later I would filter this and add some chemical treatment for good measure. It turned out clear and palatable.
The sun was setting just as I got on the new road. It became apparent that I would be camping out somewhere soon. I eventually found a spot off the road, with a commanding view. It was really nice just to stop. Keeping an eye out for snakes in the gloom, I set about making a camp and then rehydrating some food with my newly acquired water. I slurped my envelope of chicken and rice in the dark and then crawled into bed. I can't say that it was the most restful night, since I was jumping at any noise. The Border Patrol helicopters flying overhead gave me scant relief.
Day 3 - Canelo Hills to Sonoita
After the sun rose enough to take away the morning chill, I emerged from my tent in my dusty camp. I made a cup of coffee that was composed of the previous day's cattle water which was also mixed with berry electrolyte powder. It was the worst cup of coffee I have ever had. But I drank most of it anyway.
I pedaled/pushed my bike up the rocky road until I found some pavement. It was a wide and smooth road which allowed me to zoom 26 miles into Sonoita. It couldn't have come sooner because my butt was pretty sore.
At the little general store, I bought a drink and some chips and sat down to nosh. A tall and beautiful woman walked in, wearing western-style bedazzled jeans and a cowboy shirt. She was also wearing a modern full-frame polymer pistol in a hip holster. Open carry is legal in Arizona, and there are some rough characters in these parts. But everyone sees you wearing it, which might bring some other issues.
Across the street was the post office, where I went to mail back some things I no longer wanted to carry. My camera is boxy and awkward and doesn't fit in a backpack well. So they sold me a box for that and also a roll of tape for $3.99 so I could tape the box. The clerk assured me that I would need the tape in my travels. I was there trying to get rid of things, not acquire them! My bike has absolutely no space for anything non-essential. So I left the tape on the counter as I walked out. "Don't you want your tape?!" she cried.
Outside the post office I sat on a bench to think about what to do next. I wanted to make it to Tucson but the trail was very difficult and it was another 40 miles without services on the highway. As I was pondering in the midday heat, I talked to no less than three people who came up and asked me about my travels. Some offered advice and one woman said that what I was doing was impossible and that I should give up. Umm, thanks for that.
I opted to stay in Sonoita because the other options were uncomfortably difficult. So I got a room, scrubbed off my accumulated grime, and slept.
Day 4 - Sonoita to Tucson
This was a long day with varied experiences. I pedaled down the highway out of town. A glace at the rugged mountains which contained the Arizona Trail convinced me to take the road -- I wanted to move on out of the Sonoran Desert. Along the road there was lots of trash and empty water bottles and backpacks, presumably left by migrants who get picked up along the road after hiking along the washes. There were also lots of antennae and towers with cameras that the Border Patrol uses to surveil the area. Apparently the area from Tucson to the border is watched extensively using such electronic means, because once people make it to Tucson they assimilate and disappear.
There was a Border Patrol checkpoint along the highway and the officers (four of them, relaxed and chatting) waved me through with a smile. I pedaled on up to Tucson on the highway which mostly had a good shoulder and went downhill almost 2000 feet. As I reached the Tucson city limits, it got noticeably hotter and less comfortable. I decided to go to the Pima Air Museum since I had some extra time. It was further than I expected and I was suffering as I pulled in. They had a large collection of mostly military aircraft from all eras. I especially liked the Cold War machines.
Since it was now roasting hot and I was exhausted from the 50 mile ride already, I decided to take the city bus to the northern part of the city. At the bus stop I befriended a young man who just got to town from Miami and was living at a shelter. He told me some harrowing stories about getting robbed at homeless shelters and then gave me a day bus pass. He said they handed them out at the shelter all the time. He looked pretty clean-cut, had a job, and was trying to get his life in order.
On the two-hour bus journey I saw all manner of society, mostly down-and-out folks. I helped an old lady push her shopping cart onto the bus. It was loaded to the gills with food and clothes and blankets and whatnot. She had a sack of potatoes on top. She and I made conversation for awhile but it was sort of hard to understand where she was coming from. Worlds collide.
That night I stayed up in retail-land since I needed a couple of things at the REI. All the chain stores one could want.
Day 5 - Tucson to Oracle
I got back on the road out of Tucson into the hinterlands. It was shadeless and hot once more. I sucked down water and didn't feel too badly, but my butt was sore. I might need a new seat or a saddle pad. Along the way I stopped at a housing development named SaddleBrooke where someone had planted a small patch of green grass and some trees. There I took a siesta and pondered the name "SaddleBrooke", with the -e to make it sound more fancy. I suppose one could find a saddle around these parts, but not too many bubbling brooks.
I cruised into Oracle and stopped at the Circle K. As I was walking in, a young tattooed man was yelling at his beat-up looking girlfriend to "get the fuck over here". Another irradiated-looking guy stared at me and spat in the dust. OK, then. I had always wondered where "The Hills Have Eyes" was filmed.
After inquiring about camping or a market, I left buying nothing. I went down the road and saw a pizza place that was open, so I went in and got some pizza. I shared the restaurant with a group of overweight and balding Harley riders with chain wallets and t-shirts with airbrushed skulls that proclaimed "Live to Ride" and "True Honor". As silly as they look, I'll say that motorcycle riders are always really courteous to me on the roads.
That night I pedaled on down the road to a campground at the foot of Mt Lemmon, which is an enormous climb. I didn't know whether I would do it yet. My confidence is usually much higher in the morning, so I figured I would wait until then to make a decision.
When I rolled into the campground, a drunk guy chased after me to ask about what I was doing and if I wanted to join their party. He said I could pitch a tent with them. I thanked him and demurred. At about 10pm, a pickup truck slowly drove around the campground with its brights on and death metal blasting out the windows. That must have been the welcoming committee. But I managed to sleep eventually.
Day 6 - Mt Lemmon
This was an all-day, arduous climb. Mt Lemmon rises about 5000 feet above Tucson, and road bikers use the paved road to train for races. There is a bumpy dirt road that goes up the backside, which is the one I took. I started strong, and then flagged at the end, conserving my energy by taking frequent breaks. At the top was a pine forest of piñon and juniper, and winds howled. It was significantly colder than the valley and getting colder as the sun went down. I pedaled to a store where a tourist-weary clerk told me generally where the campground was. Turns out it was a fairly difficult, sore butt ride to get there. It was getting really cold by now but luckily I had a jacket that I hadn't worn yet. I stopped to dig it out of my things and couldn't find it. I looked everywhere, but it wasn't there. Cursing and demoralized, I pedaled on into the cold headwind which was tearing through my lightweight cycling gear.
Hoping that the campground would offer something good, I turned into the entrance. It was in a canyon filled with widely-spaced trees. There was barely any shelter from the wind. I knew it was going to be a cold one, so I looked for any sort of shelter. After a search, I found a boulder in a depression that looked like it would block the wind. So I set up my tent there and got on to the process of making some food. I dug out a packet of some dehydrated chicken and rice and some energy bars. Shivering, I waited in the dark awhile for it to be ready. Then I spooned it into my mouth, but I hadn't waited long enough for it to get soft, so I was crunching down the rice. It wasn't very good anyway, so I folded the package and put it into the nearby bear box so I wouldn't attract visitors. Then I retreated to my tent, wearing all the clothes I had. It actually wasn't so bad, but I felt pretty forlorn.
Day 7 - Mt Lemmon to Mammoth
In the morning I was happy to leave that campground behind. It was beautiful and calm after the sun rose, and I pedaled with good energy back the way I came. At the top of the dirt "back road" off the mountain, I met two touring cyclists named Slav and Yana who were from Bulgaria. Their bikes were fully decked out with panniers and memorabilia. They had traveled 10,000 miles so far, on a meandering tour from Alaska to Argentina. We talked a bit before I went on ahead. I bounced down the road with aplomb on my mountain bike, feeling sorry for them behind me on touring bikes. Turns out I would see them again a few days later.
The road back down the mountain was about 30 miles of bumps before I hit pavement again. By that time, the afternoon winds had picked up. Soon I was pushing into a stiff gusty headwind. My eyeballs were coated with grit as I pedaled back into Oracle. Looking for any sort of temporary respite, I stopped into a roadside steakhouse that seemed empty. The proprietor was very cheerful and happy to see me. I had a slice of strawberry pie with ice cream and some coffee and cheered right up. As we talked, he said the road to Mammoth was a sustained downhill, only about 12 miles away. I thanked him and paid and left with renewed confidence.
He turned out to be right; the road was indeed flat and downhill all the way into the town of Mammoth, where I stopped at a mom and pop motel. I walked down the street to get a burrito at a tiny shop and ate it outside on the porch. As the sun set, I munched away until a guy with a big pickup truck parked directly in front of me. He left his headlights on and his motor running as he left his vehicle and walked away. Feeling a little weird with the bright lights trained on me in the dark as I sat at a table eating, I finished up and left. Slept decently enough in my dusty room with a 15" television, which I briefly turned to a FOX news debate about which people are allowed to use which bathroom. Weighty stuff.
Day 8 - Mammoth to Superior
This was a road ride through the Copper Valley, where I passed several vast copper mines. The largest one was at Ray, AZ. You could see it from many miles away. As I approached I realized that it was a series of mountains that had been shaved away. I stopped at an overlook and stared down into the pit which was miles across. Huge dump trucks and bulldozers looked like ants far below. It was impressive. After that I had to cross a small but steep mountain range along a narrow road. Most drivers were courteous but I got buzzed pretty close by a PT Cruiser. Once I was rear-ended in my car by a PT Cruiser, so I am now convinced that PT Cruiser drivers are the worst in all the lands. Apologies to anyone reading this who drives one. But let's just admit that you're a terrible driver too.
The town of Superior sits at the foot of Apache Leap, a large rock palisade where the Apaches allegedly lept from rather than getting captured by US forces. It is also the site of a proposed copper mine that will alter the area significantly. More on that later.
I got a room at a little motel that offers a discount for Arizona Trail users. It had all the basics and was clean, but the neighbors were a little iffy. Shirtless guy walking around with full body tats, yelling obscenities and driving in and out in his truck with stereo blasting. But my butt was developing a sore and I needed to get off the bike for a day. So I figured I'd stay and walk around town a bit while giving my butt a chance to heal.
Stumbling and pushing my bike, I headed out of the canyon on the other side. At this point, I finally decided to pull out the stops. At the risk of terrifying my mother, I sent her a text on my Delorme Earthmate satellite tracker (a five-star piece of equipment, by the way) and asked her to find me a way out on Google Earth. She soon determined where I was and found a road that would lead me out. After many satellite texts and several wrong turns (it's a 10 minute interval for tracking points), I was on a road that would lead me somewhere. A ghost town, actually, but with the possibility of water. Along the way, I passed a stock tank that has some brownish water covered in algae and flies. Since I was still about 9 miles from the ghost town which may or may not have water (and didn't, in the end), I decided to fill a two liter bag of the stuff, not wanting to look at it. Later I would filter this and add some chemical treatment for good measure. It turned out clear and palatable.
The sun was setting just as I got on the new road. It became apparent that I would be camping out somewhere soon. I eventually found a spot off the road, with a commanding view. It was really nice just to stop. Keeping an eye out for snakes in the gloom, I set about making a camp and then rehydrating some food with my newly acquired water. I slurped my envelope of chicken and rice in the dark and then crawled into bed. I can't say that it was the most restful night, since I was jumping at any noise. The Border Patrol helicopters flying overhead gave me scant relief.
Yeah, I had to drink this
Day 3 - Canelo Hills to Sonoita
After the sun rose enough to take away the morning chill, I emerged from my tent in my dusty camp. I made a cup of coffee that was composed of the previous day's cattle water which was also mixed with berry electrolyte powder. It was the worst cup of coffee I have ever had. But I drank most of it anyway.
I pedaled/pushed my bike up the rocky road until I found some pavement. It was a wide and smooth road which allowed me to zoom 26 miles into Sonoita. It couldn't have come sooner because my butt was pretty sore.
At the little general store, I bought a drink and some chips and sat down to nosh. A tall and beautiful woman walked in, wearing western-style bedazzled jeans and a cowboy shirt. She was also wearing a modern full-frame polymer pistol in a hip holster. Open carry is legal in Arizona, and there are some rough characters in these parts. But everyone sees you wearing it, which might bring some other issues.
Across the street was the post office, where I went to mail back some things I no longer wanted to carry. My camera is boxy and awkward and doesn't fit in a backpack well. So they sold me a box for that and also a roll of tape for $3.99 so I could tape the box. The clerk assured me that I would need the tape in my travels. I was there trying to get rid of things, not acquire them! My bike has absolutely no space for anything non-essential. So I left the tape on the counter as I walked out. "Don't you want your tape?!" she cried.
Outside the post office I sat on a bench to think about what to do next. I wanted to make it to Tucson but the trail was very difficult and it was another 40 miles without services on the highway. As I was pondering in the midday heat, I talked to no less than three people who came up and asked me about my travels. Some offered advice and one woman said that what I was doing was impossible and that I should give up. Umm, thanks for that.
I opted to stay in Sonoita because the other options were uncomfortably difficult. So I got a room, scrubbed off my accumulated grime, and slept.
Day 4 - Sonoita to Tucson
This was a long day with varied experiences. I pedaled down the highway out of town. A glace at the rugged mountains which contained the Arizona Trail convinced me to take the road -- I wanted to move on out of the Sonoran Desert. Along the road there was lots of trash and empty water bottles and backpacks, presumably left by migrants who get picked up along the road after hiking along the washes. There were also lots of antennae and towers with cameras that the Border Patrol uses to surveil the area. Apparently the area from Tucson to the border is watched extensively using such electronic means, because once people make it to Tucson they assimilate and disappear.
There was a Border Patrol checkpoint along the highway and the officers (four of them, relaxed and chatting) waved me through with a smile. I pedaled on up to Tucson on the highway which mostly had a good shoulder and went downhill almost 2000 feet. As I reached the Tucson city limits, it got noticeably hotter and less comfortable. I decided to go to the Pima Air Museum since I had some extra time. It was further than I expected and I was suffering as I pulled in. They had a large collection of mostly military aircraft from all eras. I especially liked the Cold War machines.
Since it was now roasting hot and I was exhausted from the 50 mile ride already, I decided to take the city bus to the northern part of the city. At the bus stop I befriended a young man who just got to town from Miami and was living at a shelter. He told me some harrowing stories about getting robbed at homeless shelters and then gave me a day bus pass. He said they handed them out at the shelter all the time. He looked pretty clean-cut, had a job, and was trying to get his life in order.
On the two-hour bus journey I saw all manner of society, mostly down-and-out folks. I helped an old lady push her shopping cart onto the bus. It was loaded to the gills with food and clothes and blankets and whatnot. She had a sack of potatoes on top. She and I made conversation for awhile but it was sort of hard to understand where she was coming from. Worlds collide.
That night I stayed up in retail-land since I needed a couple of things at the REI. All the chain stores one could want.
Day 5 - Tucson to Oracle
I got back on the road out of Tucson into the hinterlands. It was shadeless and hot once more. I sucked down water and didn't feel too badly, but my butt was sore. I might need a new seat or a saddle pad. Along the way I stopped at a housing development named SaddleBrooke where someone had planted a small patch of green grass and some trees. There I took a siesta and pondered the name "SaddleBrooke", with the -e to make it sound more fancy. I suppose one could find a saddle around these parts, but not too many bubbling brooks.
I cruised into Oracle and stopped at the Circle K. As I was walking in, a young tattooed man was yelling at his beat-up looking girlfriend to "get the fuck over here". Another irradiated-looking guy stared at me and spat in the dust. OK, then. I had always wondered where "The Hills Have Eyes" was filmed.
After inquiring about camping or a market, I left buying nothing. I went down the road and saw a pizza place that was open, so I went in and got some pizza. I shared the restaurant with a group of overweight and balding Harley riders with chain wallets and t-shirts with airbrushed skulls that proclaimed "Live to Ride" and "True Honor". As silly as they look, I'll say that motorcycle riders are always really courteous to me on the roads.
That night I pedaled on down the road to a campground at the foot of Mt Lemmon, which is an enormous climb. I didn't know whether I would do it yet. My confidence is usually much higher in the morning, so I figured I would wait until then to make a decision.
When I rolled into the campground, a drunk guy chased after me to ask about what I was doing and if I wanted to join their party. He said I could pitch a tent with them. I thanked him and demurred. At about 10pm, a pickup truck slowly drove around the campground with its brights on and death metal blasting out the windows. That must have been the welcoming committee. But I managed to sleep eventually.
Day 6 - Mt Lemmon
This was an all-day, arduous climb. Mt Lemmon rises about 5000 feet above Tucson, and road bikers use the paved road to train for races. There is a bumpy dirt road that goes up the backside, which is the one I took. I started strong, and then flagged at the end, conserving my energy by taking frequent breaks. At the top was a pine forest of piñon and juniper, and winds howled. It was significantly colder than the valley and getting colder as the sun went down. I pedaled to a store where a tourist-weary clerk told me generally where the campground was. Turns out it was a fairly difficult, sore butt ride to get there. It was getting really cold by now but luckily I had a jacket that I hadn't worn yet. I stopped to dig it out of my things and couldn't find it. I looked everywhere, but it wasn't there. Cursing and demoralized, I pedaled on into the cold headwind which was tearing through my lightweight cycling gear.
Hoping that the campground would offer something good, I turned into the entrance. It was in a canyon filled with widely-spaced trees. There was barely any shelter from the wind. I knew it was going to be a cold one, so I looked for any sort of shelter. After a search, I found a boulder in a depression that looked like it would block the wind. So I set up my tent there and got on to the process of making some food. I dug out a packet of some dehydrated chicken and rice and some energy bars. Shivering, I waited in the dark awhile for it to be ready. Then I spooned it into my mouth, but I hadn't waited long enough for it to get soft, so I was crunching down the rice. It wasn't very good anyway, so I folded the package and put it into the nearby bear box so I wouldn't attract visitors. Then I retreated to my tent, wearing all the clothes I had. It actually wasn't so bad, but I felt pretty forlorn.
Day 7 - Mt Lemmon to Mammoth
In the morning I was happy to leave that campground behind. It was beautiful and calm after the sun rose, and I pedaled with good energy back the way I came. At the top of the dirt "back road" off the mountain, I met two touring cyclists named Slav and Yana who were from Bulgaria. Their bikes were fully decked out with panniers and memorabilia. They had traveled 10,000 miles so far, on a meandering tour from Alaska to Argentina. We talked a bit before I went on ahead. I bounced down the road with aplomb on my mountain bike, feeling sorry for them behind me on touring bikes. Turns out I would see them again a few days later.
The road back down the mountain was about 30 miles of bumps before I hit pavement again. By that time, the afternoon winds had picked up. Soon I was pushing into a stiff gusty headwind. My eyeballs were coated with grit as I pedaled back into Oracle. Looking for any sort of temporary respite, I stopped into a roadside steakhouse that seemed empty. The proprietor was very cheerful and happy to see me. I had a slice of strawberry pie with ice cream and some coffee and cheered right up. As we talked, he said the road to Mammoth was a sustained downhill, only about 12 miles away. I thanked him and paid and left with renewed confidence.
He turned out to be right; the road was indeed flat and downhill all the way into the town of Mammoth, where I stopped at a mom and pop motel. I walked down the street to get a burrito at a tiny shop and ate it outside on the porch. As the sun set, I munched away until a guy with a big pickup truck parked directly in front of me. He left his headlights on and his motor running as he left his vehicle and walked away. Feeling a little weird with the bright lights trained on me in the dark as I sat at a table eating, I finished up and left. Slept decently enough in my dusty room with a 15" television, which I briefly turned to a FOX news debate about which people are allowed to use which bathroom. Weighty stuff.
Day 8 - Mammoth to Superior
This was a road ride through the Copper Valley, where I passed several vast copper mines. The largest one was at Ray, AZ. You could see it from many miles away. As I approached I realized that it was a series of mountains that had been shaved away. I stopped at an overlook and stared down into the pit which was miles across. Huge dump trucks and bulldozers looked like ants far below. It was impressive. After that I had to cross a small but steep mountain range along a narrow road. Most drivers were courteous but I got buzzed pretty close by a PT Cruiser. Once I was rear-ended in my car by a PT Cruiser, so I am now convinced that PT Cruiser drivers are the worst in all the lands. Apologies to anyone reading this who drives one. But let's just admit that you're a terrible driver too.
The town of Superior sits at the foot of Apache Leap, a large rock palisade where the Apaches allegedly lept from rather than getting captured by US forces. It is also the site of a proposed copper mine that will alter the area significantly. More on that later.
I got a room at a little motel that offers a discount for Arizona Trail users. It had all the basics and was clean, but the neighbors were a little iffy. Shirtless guy walking around with full body tats, yelling obscenities and driving in and out in his truck with stereo blasting. But my butt was developing a sore and I needed to get off the bike for a day. So I figured I'd stay and walk around town a bit while giving my butt a chance to heal.
Abandoned rails near Hayden mine
Several townspeople said not to drink the water, so I didnt.
AZ 177
Winkleman, AZ
