1 state down, many to go!

We set out from the shores of the Pacific for a 3000plus feet climb. Our sense of excitement had faded now that the daily grind had begun, leaving only the feeling of anxiety. The ride out of San Diego was relatively straightforward but despite this, we decided to take an early turn up one of the steepest hills near the football stadium. From here the only way was up, literally. Construction workers were giving us great support or jip near Alpine. Perhaps it was because they were relieved not to be dragging a heavy trailer up a mountain on Valentine’s Day!

Weather conditions favoured us with a subtle breeze from behind and clear blue skies above. We slugged into a small Pine Valley hotel as dusk was upon us. The sun now gone with the only remnant of its existence now tattooed on our skins as the bike shorts, shirt and helmet lines began to radiate. This was a moment when you think of all of the good advice you have heard or given others, such as – “never get sun burnt on the first day of a trip.” If only we had reminded ourselves of this earlier.

The following day we gained a little more elevation (it must be said that on a bike you feel that there is no such thing as “a little more elevation”) before we began to make our way along the California-Mexico border. There were more border patrol cars than there were cracks on the road. We were even greeted by a helicopter circling in the sky. It was gratifying to know that my last name was not Sanchez. In the heat of the day we descended the mountain pass. Our legs now enjoyed a short rest whilst our hands seized the reigns to ensure that our trailer remained straight in the cross winds and that we did not gain an uncontrollable amount of momentum on the way down. This was reinforced as we passed a truck parked upside down and its load askew on the embankment halfway down.

After refreshing ourselves with some water fresh out of a dirty gas station bathroom, we saddled up for the flat transit across a section of the Yuha Desert (part of the Sonoran Desert). ATV’s prefer to tear up the terrain adjacent the highway for a good reason – the road is terrible. There are potholes that make the moons craters jealous and cracks that do the same to the Grand Canyon. Somehow, we managed to bounce our way along reaching El Centro in daylight minus a few teeth fillings that had rattled out.

In the past, my butt has usually been a conversation breaker but now it was now beginning to be a conversation starter. Everyone, including Alison, relatives, friends, and strangers were actually beginning to be concerned for its safety or wellbeing. The ischial spines were certainly beginning to remind us of their existence. Unfortunately this is something that will have to be endured for the remainder of the trip.

From El Centro we continued through the Imperial Valley crops and in to the Imperial Valley sand dunes (Glamis Beach). The road was smooth but the shoulder room was nonexistent. We took turns sharing the bitumen with the trucks and cars, namely hiding/leaning into the scrub as they passed by. If the Yuha Desert was a playground for ATV’s then this was Disneyland. Too bad their fun, and ours, on this particular day was reduced by a blustering sand storm. On the bright side, it was an easy way to exfoliate. In the centre of all the excitement, we found refuge at a small store filled with food and drinks (just do not expect to be allowed to eat or drink this inside). As soon as the winds and sand settled we pedaled through the desert, past the base of the Chocolate Mountains (yes, they really are brown, but no they are not edible) and onto our campsite near Palo Verde on the banks of the Colorado River. We were exhausted but invigorated by the sights of the moon rising over Arizona and the sun setting over California.

The following day we cycled onward, through various crops, through Blythe and over the Colorado River into Arizona. It must be said, that so far truck drivers have been the most courteous to cyclists. When they can, they will give you a wide berth or slow down if they cannot. They certainly earn their title as being professional drivers. Perhaps another gross generalisation is that the least considerate (to be honest though the difference is not all that great amongst road users) are those who drive huge coach RV motor homes. The same people who not only didn’t forget the kitchen sink, but they brought a spare one just in case. They also decided to pull another vehicle behind, along with a motorcycle and a trailer to maximise their road use. It seems that despite being retired with plenty of time to explore and a comfortable place to rest anytime they stop, they are not happy lose a few seconds time for a poor bugger cycling like crazy to keep on the road.

Reaching Quartzsite we found out where they were headed. These snowbirds/ grey nomads were flying south for the winter. They had left their freezing climates in search of gems or a melanoma, whichever came first. Not satisfied with the grey hairs on their head they were now trying to bleach them white with the sun. We met quite few while filling up on one of our stomach tanks. They were definitely friendlier off the road than on it. Further east we had our first puncture. After the relentless pounding with built up debris on the roadside it was always inevitable. It was not too long until we found Hope, a small, friendly and cozy RV park where we would pitch our tent for the night.

Now that we were in Arizona dawn was an hour later by the clock but to the body it feels like an hour earlier. On this day we continued along the RV trail to begin our descent into Phoenix, but first we had to go up, albeit gradually, to Wickenburg. Our legs were heavy, our backsides battered, the wind was in our face and the road kept teasing us with peaks we were hoping would be the signal for our descent. Only the promise of a night in a hotel kept us powering on. It proved to be our biggest day to date at just over 90 miles when we reached our surprise, or the town of Surprise outside of Phoenix.

Rejuvenated with a sleep in we had a late start on the bike, after all we only had to get to the other side of Phoenix. We thought, “surely, this can’t be too far”. This proved to be a gross misjudgment. Phoenix is huge and coalesces with many surrounding developments. Not only was the distance against us, but so was the weather. For the first part of the ride we were riding sideways in a sand storm, only to be followed shortly by unremitting rain that chilled us. If it were under any other conditions, the ride through the canals and bike friendly streets would certainly have been more enjoyable. We were and still are so grateful to Alison’s cousin Caroline (and Brian) to host us with a warm house, warm shower and friendly place to stay on the east side of Mesa for a few days to rest up before our big climb in New Mexico!