Onward and Upward, then the Tailwind Express

This is my first post about why I'm riding.  Here's where to donate to Water Life Hope.

The couch at Charlie & Joe's place in Flagstaf

It's been another few days without wifi.  There was something like wifi in Flagstaff, but it dropped enough packets to keep me from posting.  The campground in Winslow was hopeless and my phone was unhappy.  By the time we'd reached the Petrified forest my phone was happier but the wind was so strong any wireless transmissions were hopeless.

So here's a dump of the last few days.  We've been feasting on tailwinds.  It can't last, but it's great right now.  And my eyes have ceased to be a problem.  Steve gave me his big sunglasses that wrap around my regular glasses.  With side pieces that protect me from the wind, it's sort of like having goggles.  Perfect.

Ed the bus continues to be an invaluable asset, lent by our son Matt.  Many, many thanks.

March 26: 19 miles, Ash Fork to Williams (and onward).  2667 feet of climbing.

Steve at the Grand Canyon

The route moved to I-40 soon after we rolled out of Ash Fork.  Before this trip I'd never ridden on a freeway.  Our friend Josef was incredibly fond of them, something I didn't understand at the time.  Now I'm with Josef.  On a western freeway bicycles use the very wide shoulder as a huge bicycle lane.  That leaves the rider free to look around, as vehicles approaching from the rear are unlikely to mow one down.  

In this case the scenery was spectacular -- the San Francisco Peaks still draped in snow.  The slope was long and relentless and the air was getting ever thinner.  So we would climb, pause with feet on the ground, then grind forward.  I felt a bit silly after a while but then we reached the top of the climb.  There were a convocation of trucks and cars parked, resting their overheated engines after making the ascent.  Since I am the engine I felt a bit vindicated.

We left to freeway to roll gratefully downhill into Williams and met Steve.  The closest restaurant had a loaded touring bicycle leaning by the door, piloted by a guy known as Crazy Casey.   Casey, a full-time touring cyclist, exchanged emails with Carol a couple of years ago and accumulated roughly 30,000 miles on his bike in the intervening time.  He had great stories, preferred a cowboy hat to a helmet, and rolled out without a backward glance when we parted.

The Grand Canyon was 60 miles north.  With Ed the bus at our disposal it was the obvious choice for the afternoon, winning out over a few more miles and a little more climbing.  We took in the South Rim then headed for our Warm Showers host in Flagstaff.

The Lowell Observatory is where Pluto was discovered

Our casually gracious Warm Showers host Charlie and his roommate Joe are both avid climbers and Joe owns the house.  So it's been customized.  The couch is suspended several feet from the floor. Handholds trace a path along the ceiling in the den, through the living area and into the upstairs hall. Marcus, a fellow Warm Showers guest from Sweden, had witnessed Joe traversing the entire course in a gravity-defying 10 minutes.  Steve and I got to sleep in the equipment room with more climbing stuff than a well-stocked REI.

March 27: Rest day

Marcus, another full-time touring cyclist, loaded up his bike and headed out after long conversations about Swedish immigration, the nature of capitalism and socialism and Marcus' amazingly positive experience with American drivers.  We mended stuff, bought supplies, worked out the details of the upcoming week, and did laundry.  Our big tourist opportunity was at the Lowell Observatory, a must-see given the geek quotient of the trip.

March 28: 68 miles, Flagstaff to Winslow.  Almost no climbing.

Spiderman hallway at Charlie & Joe's.  

Almost no climbing didn't cover it.  The run from Flagstaff to Winslow is almost entirely downhill, with the mountains as a backdrop.  And there was a stiff tailwind to boot.  If we'd been on a sailing trip it would have been one long reach.

Remember the song about Route 66, where you're told to not forget Winona?  Winona, it turns out, is almost not there.  Either there's no sign at its western edge or we didn't notice it.  There are some mobile homes, a roofing company and a modest "Winona" sign that greets people going west from the freeway.  Imminently forgettable, actually.

Winslow, made famous in an entirely different song, actually has statues to commemorate "standin' on the corner".  Eagles tunes play relentlessly and stores sell whatever related merchandise they can imagine.  The biggest store featured some fairly offensive political slogans on bumper stickers, so crossed the street to the smaller store to buy a t-shirt.

Overnight was at the Homolovi State Park, anticipating the Petrified Forest.

Carol and me on the famous corner

March 29: 57 miles, Winslow to the Petrified Forest

We started the day chatting with a really nice guy from the Netherlands. He and his family had rented an RV and bought bikes at Walmart to tour the US.  They were planning to give the bikes away at the end of their stay.  He looked at my bicycle lock and observed that it cost more than the bike he's riding.

Under way we were quickly on the freeway again for a few miles, but the nature of things around us was changing.  Wild horses appeared on the endless plain.  When we left the freeway there was Joseph City, sort of a jumping off place, and then we voyaged across a landscape reminiscent of Geronimo's travels.  Occasionally there would be a horse or a cow or even a car but it was a largely unaltered place.  There was a one-lane bridge in a place that looked very much like the ones I'd crossed in southern Mexico.  And there was a tailwind.  A blessed, fierce, wonderful tailwind.

We got to the Crystal Forest Gift Shop and Campground at the gates of the Petrified Forest and found once again how useful it was to have the bus.  The proprietor was on the phone, "We don't allow tent camping..."  But she was happy to have us, and didn't charge a dime.  Another campground inhabitant asked Steve about the blog, noting the signs along Ed's flanks.  He promised to donate.