Words

In summary, Southeastern Arizona has been a high point of my trip. Topographically, this became true at Onion Pass. The landscape though had been compelling since the first hour South of Tucson. Into the sky islands of SE AZ I rode, across the high desert grass and scrub. The Chiricahua Mountains have been the culmination of this segment. In Portal, AZ, I met a good and varied crowd. Cowboy Lonny warned me first thing about the possibility of getting sucked in to Portal. I found the rocks on this side of the mountain just as awe inspiring as those on the other side of the pass. Liminal spaces have long attracted me. The people made me more inclined to stay. I'll be here through the first week of February, give or take.

Along the way on this trip I've thought about much. Two things in particular keep coming to mind: What is my place in the world? What is valuable to me? There are many answers to those questions. In short though, I believe what I most have to offer others right now is teaching my computer literacy. I can do that anywhere. I've decided that building a healthy sustainable community is important to me. I want to see my friends and family succeed. I want humanity to grow and learn. So, I decided to live it.

I made friends with the folks at the Portal Lodge(and restaurant and general store). I really got a chance to meet them at a dinner party a local, Cliff, invited me to. There Mitch infected me with his enthusiasm about the community he is trying to build. I was excited by it, and after a wonderful home cooked meal, couldn't get to sleep because my wheels were spinning from the new people energy. Also, this place is magical; the mountains move me. I couldn't sleep. The next morning, I saw Loonie Loni, Mitch's wife, doing the books with a hand calculator. I knew that I had computer literacy that I could help out with, and here I am, helping them digitize the business.

It's not what I expected to find, nor what I expected to do along the way. Becoming a bicycle engine is becoming something inhuman. Generous folks have humanized me along the way, readers included. So now I'm practicing a little work/life balance while I do data entry, analysis and training. I ride my bike and learn the area on nice days. I practice karate every day. And I've gone flying, and hope to do more. Flying is something else.

Pictures

Some folks saw me online and asked if I were done with my ride. Far from it! I'm still headed to Austin. I've just stopped in Portal AZ for a week, give or take. I haven't got stuck so much as sucked in. I've gone ahead and put up all of my pics from the trip on a different website. We can now view them many times and in larger resolution. Switching platforms sucked, but I have to prepare myself mentally for a bit of computer work. Looking at, titling, and uploading pictures isn't so bad.

http://picasaweb.google.com/josiah.hagen

I'll update the blog in the coming days. Southeastern Arizona has been a highlight of my trip, right up there with Big Sur. It culminated in the Chiricahuas, and here I am at the edge of the mountains. Words to follow...

Gila Bend into Tucson

I spent the first few days of the new year fighting more wind in the sometimes lovely sometimes gross stretch across the northeast corner of the Sonoran Desert. See here.

12/1
A late start to recover from long empty headwindy stretches on I-8, I rolled out of the Space Age Lodge around noon. Winds were 10-15mph with occasional gusts, quartering me from the NE. I headed mostly East, into the Maricopa Mountains, and was soon in the Sonoran Desert National Monument. Winds increased. Saguaro became more and more prevalent on the slow grade to the pass. I'm back on Anza's route again, along the same rail line. Just after the pass I turn onto a dirt road and ride down a couple of miles, past an old lava butte, to make my camp. This winds hadn't bothered me much; I'd planned a short ride into beautiful country.

Neighbors arrived shortly before dark; I was a little miffed, excited to have the desert to myself. I went over to introduce myself to this pack of 4 men and two teenagers, one camper, several dual sport motorcycles, and a couple of jeeps. Keith offered me their fire, which was going to be much nicer than the one of dry rotten palo verde that I never made. I joined them after mac & cheese and tuna, and met the group. A number of them had met at work, and were out for the post new year eve's camping eat and drink the leftovers trip. Keith and Gary were the experienced offroaders. Gary, like me, has a penchant for endoing. Yeay superman! Keith gave me Leffe to drink, and we all settled into converstation around the fire.

Tony brought the kids, Danielle and Ben, and the three of them had a lot of questions about the trip. It's both fun and wearisome to talk about it. Ken too was inquisitive. Gary helped me out, telling stories of my own, and giving me some time to chill (warm) and drink yummy ale. Ed was mostly quiet.

I engaged these folks about offroading in the park, having seen a number of "No Offroading" signs, and many tire ruts in the desert. I got two answers. The first was the reactionary: "What are people, who've never been and will never been here, trying to tell us to do...". This was quickly moderated by Keith, experienced 'froader, who advocated staying on the designated roads trails. He understood the fragility of the desert. Everyone out there cherished it, and we were doing what we could to enjoy it and preserve it.

1/2
The wind picked up during the night. I hung out with 'froaders a little, and then got going around 930. The wind was fierce. I geared down, and road by new rail construction, kicking up red dirt. Dirt coming at me 30mph or so, pinpricky. Visibility 1/4 to 1 mile. This is not fun. It got worse after I passed the dump. There were more trucks coming and going. The shoulder disappeared. Trash would blow out of the beds of semis' trailers, several articles per truck every several hundreds or thousands of yards. After averaging about 5mph for more than 20 miles, I reached Maricopa.

I was hoping to find a place there, and just stop for the day. There were no places in this strip mall suburb in the desert. From blowing trash to plastic city, blech. So I rode on, knowing I'd be racing darkness against the wind into Casa Grande. Luckily, the wind let up a bit, though the scenery changed for the worse. Replacing the pristine then trashed desert was farmland and feed lots. I had a mediocre dinner burger in Casa Grande - probably locally raised, right? Then, exhausted, averaging 6mph over 50 or so miles, I conked out.

1/3
I planned a short day, and the wind had somewhat abated. I rode out of the farmland past Eloy to the edge of the North Picacho mountains. I got onto minor roads, making my way past orange groves, cotton, and maybe soybeans on my way to Picacho Peak. It's an incredible landmark - visible for many miles in all directions - like a well decayed molar sticking out of the dirt.

I stopped at the Arizona Nut House for some ice cream (never too cold for a cone) on the way into the park. The campground is in the bajada coming down from the west end of the peak, filled with foothills palo verde and saguaro along the washes, and various cholla and scrub everywhere else. The ground is littered with red lava rock, with a small 80' butte right by my campsite. I made camp and got the rangers to deliver me firewood, and set about fixing my stove. Apart, clean, together, light, off, repeat. I couldn't get a steady stream.

Gary Adler showed up, and then took me out to a truckstop for dinner. We spent 2 or so hours trying to catch up 15 or so years. It was great to see him, and clear to me why he was such a good friend to me then - he's bright and wise and very compassionate. Gary is in a doctoral program in sociology at Arizona, and my first example of what that can mean. We talked about our experiences and what our families were up to, and the time flew by far too quickly. He had a long trip planned, leaving the next day. It was nice that he drove out to meet me at my campsite before he left.

1/4
I used my firewood to boil my water, having broken my stove trying to fix it. Got a known problem as well as an unknown one, but it was only one more night until I roll in Tucson, so not worth sweating. After riding the frontage road for a couple of miles, I turned onto Park Link Rd, which quickly turned to a dirt road. I thought of turning back, not knowing what to expect - perhaps dirt road for 18 miles until the next turn. I'm glad I didn't heed these inner voices.

Park Link Rd was quite a lift after the previous days' rides. It cuts NE, up over a low pass and then onto 79. It is pure Arizona Upland terrain of the Sonoran Desert. It's marvelous saguaros and dense dense brush with honey mesquite, palo verde, barrel cactus, teddy bear cholla, pencil cholla, some creosote, and all sorts of other attractions. The road was a gentle grade up about 1% for 18 miles. The sun was out and bright and hot and the wind was low. After maybe 3 miles of dirt road the pavement appeared again, and the whole stretch slowly changed the flora as I climbed higher in the upland.

At the pass, the terrain changed, on the other side were valleys leading up to the Santa Catalinas, enormous and brushed with snow at the top. The saguaros disappeared, and there was much grass and occasional mesquite. I turned South, with occasional rollers ahead, and knowing I'd get to drop all the elevation I'd just picked up. A good days ride indeed!

Soon after I turned onto 79, I was passed by a roadie, Ryan. I sprinted, much as I can loaded, to catch up with him and asked to grab his wheel. He obliged, dropped me, then slowed down to pull me, understanding how slow I am after riding loaded 30 or so miles. Ryan pulled me all the way to Oro Valley. We shot the shit as we rode, and it was a great diversion. He pushed me really hard at first, over the rollers. Then it was slightly downhill, and I could hide behind him more effectively, often keeping him on one quarter or the other. The winds get swirly near the mountains, but we were going fast enough that much of the wind was ahead. Ryan sped me up to the point that I decided to call Scott about coming in the last 20 miles that night.

I rode into town from the northwest entrance. Tucson is surrounded by mountains, with roads radiating out through passes between ranges. I could see across town from my spot in foothills along Ina Rd over to the University of Arizona and knew I had eight or so miles left. I got the early impression that Tucson is a good cycling town, with clear and frequent signage as well as marked route. Having someone ride me into town and seeing all of the other folks out riding supported this.

I met up with Scott Savage, more a family friend than someone I knew well. We'd each spent much more time in the company of each other's fathers - out hiking or fly fishing - than we had with each other. It was good to meet him and spend some time swapping family stories or insight. Yeah, we talked about you. Hope you're all doing well.

1/5 - 1/10

Ultimately I couldn't spend too much time with Scott, because he is working like mad on grad school, in the same sociology program as Gary. I was lucky to have Scott introduce me to friends of his in the program, and found a good group of folks. It reminded me of the dojo, everyone working on self-improvement, helping those around them, and all sharing in each other's accomplishment. Good stuff. As Scott's roommate returned, and his place was small, I needed somewhere to stay if I was going to stay in Tucson longer.

Seth, one of Scott's friends and mentors in the department offered to put me up. This gave me a chance to relax my way through my to do list. It's been great preparation for what's to come. Seth has given me a ton to think about, which may happen in some middles of the night in the mountains to come. It's been a great time meeting a small circle within the sociology department, going out with Scott and Seth and Jeff. It's the first time this trip I've been with new folks my age, with whom I share many values and goals, for any number of days. I feel like I've grown by lingering here.

Tucson is indeed a good cycling town. There are routes all over, with frequent signs indicating routes - a good reminder for motorists. Roads are comparable to Seattle's, before their recent repairs initiative. BICAS, the local cycling coop, is the best I've been to. It has a huge space, a ton of used parts, and many friendly advisors helping wrench at the stands. They have a work for your parts plan, and are focused on teaching repair and building community. It was a great place to work on Ziggy, patching my sidewall puncture, cleaning, lubing, and tuning. There have been riders of all sorts out, which is good to see.

1/11

Today I rode out around town unloaded, to have some fun getting Ziggy rolling again. I went out to ride by the boneyards on the air force base, and then the ones at Pima County Air Museum. The bike trail leading out was a great break from trafficked riding. The aircraft looked tired, all lined up for disuse. I rode on, making a big sweep south to the Mission, and then back north into town to the UofA. It was a great day for it, and I really enjoyed hammering on the gentle grades.

I'm planning on heading out of town this weekend. I'm not much past my halfway point, but I've got no other planned stops. I've planned a number of options for my route. I'm hoping that I've learned a few things by now, and will be able to enjoy this push. It's going to be a lonely road, but time and again I've been friendly people possessed of a good spirit. It'll be nice to get in range of folks in Austin; maybe they'll join me for some campings along the way.

Primary planned route
or
Scorch across NM
or (
To the Guadalupe Mountains
and (
Through the Davis Mountains
or
Bail to Van Horn
))

Joshua Tree to Gila Bend

I've been out of LA for about two weeks, now in Gila Bend, AZ. I stayed at the Space Age Lodge, which fittingly, has a computer available for my use. The last couple of weeks have proceeded by fits and starts; I seem to have trouble with momentum right now. Luckily, there have been some friendly and generous folks along the way to share my stoppages. My camera was out of juice, so I have no pictures between Joshua Tree and Yuma. Hopefully Karen and Briana will send me some. Here's pics I do have.


12/15 - 12/18
Joshua Tree to the Salton Sea

Joshua Tree (I keep typing "Josiah Tree") is much like my favorite camping spot outside of Austin, Enchanted Rock. Granite has been exposed as softer rocks have weathered away around it. The granite too is eroded and split and rounded and totally funky. I love it. I spent three days in Joshua Tree, the first two with camping with Nathan. Kali was out there too during the day, and we all wandered around the desert, checking out the crazy terrain. Kali made a run out to town and picked up wood and steaks and sausages and we had a great time bbqing. It was like being back in Austin, hanging outdoors in wild country eating meat over fire.

Actually, I need to back up a bit. Alex drove out too, to drop me off in the desert. He joined us at the Integratron, something Kali recommended we do. It has some wild acoustics, and we listened to some pure crystal tones for a while. This helped remove some of LA from the mind, and prepare us for the desert.

After Nathan and Kali took off, I camped again in the same spot, this time alone. I ate too much, my body not used to its road ration after lazing around LA. Feeling ill most of the night and morning, I rode out from Jumbo Rocks without eating. It was good to learn that a days ride without food is much easier than a day without water.

The Joshua Tree portion of Mojave Desert was full of yuccas, including the eponymous joshua tree. I rode out of the southern sliver of this desert, into the Colorado Desert portion of the Sonoran desert. The yuccas gave way to creosote. In one transition zone, the landscape was full of chollas. Shortly thereafter, full of ocotillos. I'd see a lot of these over the next two weeks. The granite went away from time to time, showing only the mountains of gneiss, disolving into alluvial flats full of creosote.

Out of Joshua Tree, I rode on Box Canyon Road. Both this and the park road were excellent for cycling, largely devoid of cagers. Box Canyon Road wasn't a box canyon itself, but presented hundreds of such along its sides. These were carved of dirt, it seemed, rippled walls 20-200' high, wending their way away from the road. It too was crazy stuff, but of a wholly different character to that of the park. Too soon, I turned a corner and was at the northern reaches of the Salton Sea, amidst grapefruit and red peppers.

The Salton Sea stinks. The ground around it is encrusted in sulphuric salts, white and yellow covering brown dirt. I moteled a night at Desert Shores, the low point of my trip at 180' below sea level. I had to decide whether to press on South, or head West (West, why would I head West to Austin?!) into the mountains.

12/19 - 12/26
Anza-Borrego

I went West into Anza Borrego Desert State Park. The northeastern portion of the park is carved dirt badlands, not unlike those North of the Salton Sea. It was a hot day, uphill, and I found all sorts of excuses to stop and look at the terrain. By late afternoon, I made it to Borrego Springs, nestled between the mountains. Here I spent several days, drinking beer by the pool and reading The Bear and The Dragon. I guess I needed some vacation time from my trip.

I rode on to Tamarisk Grove on 12/23, and there met one of the other two camping groups. This was Rebecca and Robin's Christmas camping trip, with their families and friends. They took me in and gave me fire and friendship. Larry showed me where to find the potable water. Randy really took me into the group and made me feel welcome; others followed suit. The family invited me to stay for Xmas dinner the 24th, and so I had turkey and ham and all the fixings. Zack and Parker took me offroading in Randy's truck, my first recreational use of a motor vehicle in some years. I got to play some backgammon with Robin, playing to 2-2, though with no cube involved. Ray, the Tampa Cowboy, was a trip, putting Nathan's Sling Blade imitation to shame by mixing it up singing Wild Thing. Briana and Big Zack hosted a trivia game, which all played. For my first Xmas away from my own family, I was with family nonetheless. They sent me away with a card all signed, again more than I'd expected to find for the holiday. I'm glad I found the loud crowd at the campsite, as we had a great time building a monster fire and drinking rum into the wee hours.

I rode on, on Xmas day, fighting wind all the way to Agua Caliente. The road I took was the Southern Overland Route of 1849. The mountain terrain was amazing, again with old granite mountains weathered into flats of creosote, cholla and ocotillo. I took in some spa action, and then had an early night. Again in the morning, I hit the hot pool, and spent a bit of time talking with Laurie and Jeff. They're cycle tourists who'd been van camping down in Mexico. We told tales of rides past, and it was good to connect with folks who knew what I was up to. They also knew Oberlin, with a groan, which was a rare treat. After a slow chatty morning, I didn't get rolling for a while. I figured I'd motel it in Ocotillo, but there was no inn at the inn. So at 3pm I started pushing hard to Calexico, racing the sunset. I got in about 30min after dark, the worst planning I've done so far. Again, the desert helped me go on, presenting a blanket of purple flowers hidden among the creosote. The mountains petered out, with only Signal Mountain to ride around. I made it, and decided not to ride in the dark again. No shoulder on farm roads with weaving drivers is not so much fun.

12/27 - 12/29
Dunering on to Yuma

These were days of most varied riding: "City" riding in Calexico. No shoulder then large shoulder on 98. Headwinds, crosswinds, tailwinds. A frontage road along I-8 that was akin to speed bumps every 3-5'. Onto the highway through the dunes, sand blowing hard into my eyes and mouth. Then onto a country road into a fierce wind, RVs passing thick in both directions. A dirt road then sand road out to the dunes. With my 4L water front panniered, this last bit was like handling a snow mobile.

Near the edge of the dunes, but before the official campground, I ran into a group of a dozen or so RVs. Around a fire stood a group of men, and one beckoned me over. Keith and I introduced ourselves, and he welcomed me to their fire. I set up camp 50 yards from their circled wagons, and then wandered around a bit. The area between the Algodones Dunes and the Chocolate Mountains is a large alluvial plain. Nearer the dunes, where we were camped, is a mile wide wash, little watered. Camped there, in one of the higher spots, there was the usual creosote and ocotillo. Also dotting the wash were palo verde and honey mesquite trees. I made my mashed potato dinner to a wild sunset, and then joined the fire of the RVers.

These folks were like a small town, camped out to enjoy offroad fun in the dunes. This was an outskirts camp, about 10 RVs among a couple dozen. A mile away, closer to the dunes were several hundred RVs. And yet, this was still remote, as on the east side of the dunes were tens of thousands of RVs, with over 100,000 people out for the holiday weekend.

In this small town, we had a wonderful set of characters. Bob was the elder statesman, coming out to the dunes for the last 27 years, full of wisdom and intelligence. John was like the sheriff, managing relations with other camps and their strays, gruff and friendly and reasonable. Keith, aka "the Mayor", aka "Woody", was friendly and funny and something of a wheeler dealer. The ladies, Karen, Laura, and Cindy, all provided balance - schoolteachers and trail blazer - moderating conversation and providing all sorts of tasty food.

I decided to stay a day, and Bob took me out in his buggy. We were a group of 5 buggies, and I managed to get in the one with a Hayabusa engine. I wouldn't have gotten out into the dunes without 'em, and it was one helluva ride. My first pucker moment was going up Patton Hill. We shot straight up the side of this 200' dune avalanche. At the apex of the parabola, the weightless feeling and floating turn to face down - straight down - gave me quite a rush. We noodled around other dunes, watching out for folks on collision course. The dunes are an incredible creation, sometimes rolling, sometimes pushed up in a heap with a vertical face. It was a large sandbox playground, which we enjoyed until John's buggy busted a shock. Heading back, Bob picked a flat stretch to gun the engine. This was the only time I grabbed the oh-shit handle, as I was pressed deep into the back of the seat. Maybe I've had more straight line acceleration once, in a 'vette. We made it back to camp, and there I spent the afternoon. I hit it off with Cindy, in large part because we were the outsiders there, preferring non-motorized forms of entertainment. Still, these were good folks, and they gave me a novel experience and warm company, both of which I cherish.

12/30-12/31
Highway doldrums

I've been on the highway now for about 130 miles over the last two and a half days. It sucks to be riding my so many cars and trucks, whiz whir grrring by. Coming through the Gila Mountains east of Yuma, I got my first flat. This was a dangerous stretch of road, 6% down grade and bendy. It was a doozy to repair, as the nail went half in the tire and then bent in half. I used a wrench to lever it apart after much frustration. I've motelled it three nights in a row now, and I'm tired of that too. Yesterday I was ready to hang it up, and quit the trip. Writing about the good times here helps some. So too do thoughts of desert to come. Tonight, I'm camping out in the Sonoran Desert National Monument. I'm ready again for back roads, fresh air, and stars above.