A Randonneur's Tale.
The jersey says it all, mes amis--
Sleep deprivation
Dog attacks
Headwinds
Pouring sweat
Blazing heat
Sunburn
Brush with the Law!
Spills (I crashed! Find out what happened!)
Flat tires (just one--with 9 miles to go to the end, of course)
let's see, what else? Oh yeah,
Thurst!
Hunger!
Speeding Tickets! (Steve got busted!)
New camera so lots of photos. Click on them to see larger images!
3 a.m., Our Heroes apply sunblock.
Sunrise through the eyes of the new camera--and Heroes with little sleep and no coffee.
Heroes at dawn's early light.
Jeff Middleton meets us at IHOP in Casa Grande, and gives us intelligence about alternative routes for our trek. Jeff and I worked together at AHSL back in the Day, mes amis!
Casa Grande behind us, now the open road.
A sense of adventure--we'll take a short cut...
Sacaton, Arizona, here we come!
Gentle Readers, the young women at Sacaton's only store charged us $ .50 per water bottle for ice out of the soda machines. Steve paid for it and we needed the ice--they said they didn't have any water. I got the feeling they didn't like cyclists. Unfortunately we'll need to stop here again on the way back to chez moi--because its the only place with any services, even if it sucks.
Through the desert, the reservation, and here at this spot the world changes. I did enjoi going thru Sacaton because it seems we're here faster. This marks a turning point and the home stretch, albeit a long 40 miles through the Inferno of Phoenix.
South of South Mountain. If you've been perusing the blog, you know that this is a welcome site and a morale booster for me--we're about in Phoenix... Well, 20 miles south, and soon to be 20 miles north.
Steve on the Maricopa Hwy. Steve will be the first to tell you that there is still a ways to go. We'll ride North to South Mtn, and then East through Gaudalupe--and then into Tempe.
Traffic and the urge to keep rolling means I don't have photos of the last leg. It was very hot, and we were needing to stop and re-supply with ice and water rather than look for photo-ops.
One incident of note is that the cops in Paradise Valley rolled up behind us in steath mode, then the officer got on his PA speaker and commanded us we had to ride single file. Steve ignored him, and I used very unappropriate body language to let Officer Dick Donut know I would not comply. I could have gotten in trouble, but Officer Donut must have had somebody's grandmother to bust because he did a U-Turn and took off. If you happen to be a police officer working in the afflent suburb of Paradise Valley, and you're reading this--you can go fuck off.
Well, that mishap was soon forgotten when we arrived in Scottsdale, Arizona--130 miles and one braying jack ass down the street later!
I was able to take a quick shower, and go hit the sack for a few hours while Kim made us one of her famous dinners. I recall the wine being red, chilled, and tastey! We went to DQ after and I had a dipped chocolate ice cream cone. I fell asleep by 8 p.m.
The Return trip to Marana
2:15 a.m.
Steve already has a pot of coffee going, and fries up some eggs. He puts them between two pieces of bread, like a sandwich. We put them in baggies and stow them on board. I cram one of last night's chicken breasts Kim made for dinner into my face, while gulping down a bottle of Ensure--Steve's new secret weapon.
Phoenix at 3 a.m. is still hot, Gentle Readers. For a few miles Steve and I slip silently through the last bit of Scottsdale, then zip among the sleeping formations of Papago Park, and soon to the Campus of ASU. We decided to skip I HOP in Tempe instead to go to Burger King in Chandler to save time.
Burger King in not open--but a mexican place is -- and we're there! Steve is inside and ordering, but I have noticed something messed up with my saddle. It has slipped down about half and inch and is not straight. My ass has been hurting for the 35 miles or so to breakfast stop--no wonder! The saddle is fixed thank God, and I am happy for the next 100 miles.
All I can say about this breakfast place, and eating breakfast with a bunch of mexicans, is that good food transcends nationalities... I could have done without the gyrating Latinas on the MTV like disco show--blaring on the TV...
Sacaton Revisited
We need water. We must stop in Sacaton. Our shortcut/experimental route was okay, but I have to say we were running out of water and energy because we were fighting a tough headwind now. All that hard riding against the wind drains you quickly, and you have to stay hydrated and keep eating to keep up your energy.
At close to 7 a.m. we got to the only store. It was closed, so we decided to wait a few minutes until it would open. I was looking around and thought for a second that I couldn't find the sign that said the hours. "Hey Steve, where do you see the sign that says the hours?" "Its right there on the left side--by the door." I couldn't see what he was taking about. I figured it was just my fatigue that was confusing me. "I don't see what you're talking about." "Right there. Right there on the--well, I thought it was right there--right..."
There was no sign. And we realized we were in trouble.
"Don't expect that place to open anytime soon." It was a firefighter getting gas for his Jeep. "Do you guys need anything?" He could tell we were pretty beat. "We need water." "The fire station is just down the road. I'll meet you guys there. You can get ice and water--and anything else you need." Our lucky day, mes amis.
This guy was Mike, and we got to the fire station and loaded up with ice and water. All the crew was there, and they said we could always stop for ice and water when we were in town.
Just by the fire house in Sacaton, was this place. After I took the picture of this building above and started off, my front tire sank thru the crust and into sand of the dirt-packed side road. It slammed me to the ground. My main concern was that I might have busted the bladder of my Camelbak--I didn't thank goodness!
After climbing out of Sacaton, and over I-10. We made some speed through Casa Grande and made another stop for water. We were now on one of the familiar brevet routes--on Jimmy Kerr Blvd headed to Eloy.
Eloy, Arizona.
Dream Rock
Last MSM trip we stopped at an old concrete slab, the foundation of an old house or business. Large trees keep the slab cool, and to lay down on the slab makes you're back feel great, and the shade is inviting.
I call this place Dream Rock because when I layed down in the shade to cool off from the concrete, I suddenly found myself tumbling into an eerie deep sleep--like an avalance of REM. Really it was some kind of scary trap and dangerous because it felt like I was melting and falling into a deep void. Steve had the same experience and we got out of there because I believe I would have slept there for hours--who knows what would have happened to us?
Still, the temptation to rest there again was strong. And we did rest there but we were more careful.
Too hot even for the dogs in Picacho. But we keep our eyes open.
Picacho probably has seen better days...
DQ at Picacho Peak is not far--its 107 and we ride against a headwind.
Picacho Peak. You get sight of the Peak heading South just as you're leaving the city limits of Casa Grande, about 30 miles away. We made a quick stop for water and ice (later we find out it was 110 degrees out on the road) and as we make our way down the Frontage Road, the Peak gradually shirnks behind us.
Normally we would keep going, but we plan to make a stop for water at the Marana Circle K. We'll have about 9 more miles to my house, in which the last 6 are a grueling climb. Oh yeah, when we pull into Circle K--I have a flat.
Again we opt for not changing out the tube. Instead we'll put air in the tire and ride until it goes flat again.
This is about the last mile of the six mile climb to my house. That's Mt. Lemon in the back ground. With 120 miles under your legs, and tempatures over 100 degrees, every mile takes all you've got. You really keep hoping you see that traffic signal on Tangerine and Dove Mtn Blvd. You can see it just at the crest of the road.
But, instead of arriving like Hobbits at the entrance of Mt. Doom--with the One Ring--we are at my place! We have done it--Marana to Scottsdale and Back Again.
After 263 miles, I cook up Spam and eggs as our post-ride lunch, mes amis...
Sorry Kim--but that is really all I had in the frig!
Allure Libre, Mes Amis!
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