Ed the Magic Bus and a Big Climb

This is my first post about why I'm riding and why donating to Water Life Hope will flatten the hills in your path.  If you're a biker, and even if you're not, this is major.  Read on.  

Flowering cactus in Needles

Where on earth have we been?

Arizona, a whole lot of which is off the grid.  No cell, no internet, nada.  And those are the places we have been.   So here's a summary, followed by the trip diary.  This part of the ride is a climb from the Colorado River in Needles, roughly 600 feet above sea level, to Flagstaff at 7900 feet above sea level.  There's just no graceful way to do it, but we're still having fun.  The main thing is to keep eating and pedalling, pedalling and eating.

Tomorrow will be the big climb, from about 5200 feet to 7900 feet.  Most of it will happen in the morning when we head to Williams (6765 feet).  One way or another though, we'll be in Flagstaff tomorrow night -- just the three of us.  Son Matt won't be flying in tomorrow.  He rushed his beloved, elderly cat Gremlin to the after-hours vet, fearing the worst.  The vet gave Matt medication for Gremlin, and he's staying with her.

So that's the summary.  Let me take a second and thank everyone who has donated to Water Life Hope.  Every dollar counts and we really appreciate it.

March 22: 45 miles, Needles to Oatman.  3443 feet of climbing.

There's a shorter way to Oatman, going through Needles on main roads and past the local Walmart.  But it's not on the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) map, so we went around.  The first bit of the ride was reasonably tame.  One close encounter of the recreational vehicle kind, but that happens.  We rolled into Arizona joyously and hit the Family Dollar store in Topock.  We'd had a few hills but nothing worrying.

Wild(ish) donkey in Oatman

Then we left Topock and the road moved skyward.  Not all at once, mind you.  More like the development lab for Six Flags.   There were hairpin turns, signs that warned of mountain grades and we often rose to dance on the pedals.  It went something like this.  Stand up, pedal, grumble, hit the top.  Sit down, coast, chortle.  Repeat.

The desert was gloriously blooming so we really didn't notice how taxing it was until Carol got off her bike to take pictures.  I suddenly realized I had enough in the tank to get into Oatman but that was it.  Not completely bonked yet but I wasn't far off.  I thought through everything that should be in my pannier and my feed bag and checked off each thing I'd already eaten.  Nothing left.  Carol changed batteries on her e-bike to handle the last few miles.  I am the battery for my bike, and chewed myself out relentlessly (carry more food! how old are you?!) as we wobbled upwards the last few miles.

Steve's appearance with Ed the bus was particularly welcome, therefore.  Steve had secured a parking spot with access to a plug for Carol's batteries, and Ed was about to show off shamelessly.  The shower was set up as it was in Ludlow: tent, hot water heater, shower head.  This time, though, everything worked great -- perfect temperature, perfect pressure and no screaming whatsoever.  Ed had a new trick.

Oatman's economy is based on wild donkeys, left behind by departing gold miners in the early 20th century.  Their descendants come into town between about 11 AM and 4 - 6 PM daily.  Tourists know this and schedule arrivals and departures accordingly, both singly and by the busload.  And that dictates what are called "business hours" in Oatman.  When you're staying there in the bus that means the functionality of the portable toilet and heater come into sharp focus.  Edward Bus just shone.

Robbie Balenger's support vehicle

March 23: 50 miles, Oatman to Antares.  2826 feet of climbing.

Having partaken of the comforts of the bus, Carol and I set out for Sitgreaves Pass first thing in the morning, having heard it was a difficult trip for cars.  Can't say for sure, but it was no picnic for bikes.  We made it to a fine overlook and Carol thought we were there.  Steve and Ed came by to inform us otherwise.  We watched balefully as they traced the way upward.

Wasn't as bad as it looked -- we'd already done the tough stuff.  And at the top we ran into the support crew for Robbie Balenger, a vegan running across America to raise awareness of plant-based diets.  Robbie's father-in-law and running buddy were driving a really official-looking setup, including a camping trailer with a little dinette.  The whole assemblage was done up in NadaMoo shrink wrap.  It was impossibly cute, and the crew were really cheery folks.  We hung out and compared vehicles -- ours was much more hand-made, but had more solar features.  Go Ed!

We coasted into the Sacramento Valley, made a pit stop at Crazy Fred's Truck Stop (no, not kidding), and made the slow climb into Kingman.  There must be something nice to say about Kingman, but it escapes me.  Coming out of Kingman, just short of the airport, we hit bicycle paradise: downhill run with stiff tailwinds.  We both rolled at around 21 MPH.  Glorious.

Just short of Antares my eyes went off again, so we stopped there.  There was a cafe with a friendly staff and a potload of nice young Italian from the University of Milan who all wanted bus tours.  We found an inconspicuous place to park for the night and bedded down amidst the desert rabbits.

March 24: 40 miles, Antares to Grand Canyon Caverns.  1214 feet of climbing.

The run to Grand Canyon Caverns just took forever, even though it was only 40 miles.  The desert is changing as we go.  Beginning around Kingman there was enough moisture to support grasses.  Now we're seeing actual bushes and trees.  The scenery is moderating along with the vegetation, mountain peaks changing to mesas.

We stopped on the Hualapai Indian Reservation at Peach Springs and got canned goods for dinner.  Folks vacationing from Winnipeg, Canada and northern Maine stopped to look at the bikes and say hello.  We were tuckered -- couldn't figure out why -- but we only had 10 miles to go.  Steve met us about 9 miles from camp and cheered us all the way in.  And we needed it.  Why were we so flattened?

Checking the altitude when we got in provided the answer.  We'd climbed to 5500 feet.  Desert air is thin to begin with, but at a mile up there's just not too much of it.  Still a comforting "not crazy".  Our sleeping pad had gone from slack to hard.  Physics lives.

We took a tour of the Caverns -- fun tour guide, odd little cave.  It still has a giant mound of supplies so that it can be a bomb shelter.  Lots of them are from 1962, replenished in 2011.  The best part of the Caverns, however, are the ghost stories.  My favorite is about the tour guide who died on premises and apparently insists on continuing to give tours.  Do the customers figure it out on their own or does he have to do something tacky like vanish into thin air?  Ozzy Ozbourne recently visited, quite alive, and appears to have left quite a wake.  The staff really liked him.

March 25: 50 miles, Grand Canyon Caverns to Ash Fork

Today was a pretty simple ride: 50 miles, headwind, plenty of climbing.   We're in landscape that's wetter than it had been, so there's wildlife to see.  We went past a woman with an enormous camera taking pictures of pronghorn antelope as they bounded away across the grasslands.  Steve spotted some sort of large mammal -- maybe an elk?  I urged cows to escape when we came across them, informing them of impending doom.  No result.

We pulled into what I hope is a forgettable motel for the electricity and the shower.  Tomorrow we climb.