Mar 14, 2014

Day 8: March 12, Hope to Wickenburg

sophia Blog Post

This day was going to be a shorter one (by that I mean only 70 miles, who have we become?) so we took our first slow morning. We didn’t wake up to an alarm, we luxuriously lounged in our tent (our perspectives have become skewed) – well actually, Madeleine’s air matress has developed a not-very-slow leak, so she luxuriated on the ground.

The day of riding wasn’t too challenging, except for the noticeable headwind which has become our regrettable and constant companion. The highlight of the day was lunch at a place called Coyote Flats, which is the only place besides a gas station to eat in 50 miles. We figured it would be another exceptional diner experience, which in some ways I guess it was. We walked in and found several tables of men clad in cowboy hats, boots with spurs and mustaches, and got ourselves a booth. I ordered coffee, water and an orange juice, the last of which came in a hilariously portioned cup.

Continuing our discovery of the food desert that exists in this area, we both did our best with menu options but wound up with greasy sandwiches, neither of which were quite what we ordered. Ah well, we were hungry.

We met a few more characters along the route, a group of 4 older guys who had found each other and become a unit. We asked if they were headed to the same RV Park / Campground as we were, and they laughed and said “well we haven’t been doing much camping”. About 70 miles later we found Wickenburg, a town of about 6,500 that was the most built up town we had seen in days. It had a big grocery store, a little historic downtown area, a couple bars and a few restaurants. The options were exciting so we checked into our RV Park, put on real people clothes (i.e. not head-to-toe spandex), and got ourselves a beer and some Mexican food. It was all very exciting.

 

 

 

 

Mar 14, 2014

Day 7: March 11, Palo Verde, CA to Hope, AZ

madeleine Blog Post

We felt less than great when we woke up in Palo Verde partly due to the gnarly two previous days of riding and partly due to our mini mart dinner the night before. Baked beans were a bad choice. We got up early and when we hit the road Frankie was still asleep on a picnic table. Leaving Palo Verde we immediately ran into nasty headwinds (story of our lives at this point) and we trudged along with heavy legs, looking forward to reaching the Arizona border. We stopped for breakfast in Blythe, CA at a place called Steaks and Cakes where we both got the “Pancake Sandwich,” which was the most gigantic breakfast we have ever seen.

Getting back on our bikes after that was basically the worst thing that has ever happened to us. But we climbed back on and crossed the Arizona border after a couple miles. Immediately upon crossing the bridge into Arizona we were greeted by an old Native American woman drinking a 22 oz. Bud Lite who shouted obscenities at us which were too vulgar to repeat here. Welcome to Arizona!

The worst part of the day was still ahead of us as we had to ride on the shoulder of the interstate for about 25 miles. In spite of the relatively wide shoulder, it was much more heavily trafficked by large trucks than we were comfortable with. It was a “don’t tell mom” situation, one we hope never to repeat. We both had a mini-meltdown halfway through (some tears were shed) and we very seriously considered renting a Uhaul and driving our bikes to the next town. (I actually called the local Uhaul rental place — they were, of course, out of trucks).

Mercifully, we finally made it off the highway and onto a nice slow country road. We stopped at a country store (it was literally called, “The Country Store”) after a few miles to pick up some drinks and met a fellow named Warren who was incredibly curious about what we were doing. We talked to him for a good while and he told us that the RV park we were staying at in Hope, AZ was only about 12 miles down the road. Eventually he drove off and we jumped back on our bikes to bust out the last few miles. It turned out to be 16 miles to the park and when we arrived Warren was there waiting for us. He had driven back to make sure we made it because he said he felt so bad that he had given us the wrong mileage. Unbelievable. Then he offered to let us stay in his RV which was parked next to his house in a town a few miles farther along. We politely declined but were very grateful for the offer. Turned out, the RV park that night was amazing. Wireless internet at the community center, a structure to camp underneath to stay out of the wind, and spotlessly clean facilities. There was one other cyclist camping there that evening. His name was Scott, he was 51, from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and he was a total gem. He was biking the route alone while tugging along a trailer that I swear must have had 120 lbs. of stuff in it, including a full-sized cooler. We don’t know why. But he made us coffee in the morning and we sat and compared stories from the road, which are now piling up quickly.

 

Mar 14, 2014

Day 6: March 10, Ocotillo to Palo Verde

sophia Blog Post

We awoke at the Ocotillo Community Center feeling a little lead-legged but replenished, meanwhile we wondered how Frankie was alive after his dinner of a bag of Cheetos and a Frapachino. We got out on the road early because, due to the scarcity of civilization in that area of California, we either had the option of going 40 miles or over 100 miles. So we figured we’d do 40 miles and see how we felt.

We passed an enormous cattle feed lot, which was slightly disconcerting, and very little else. 40 miles later we rolled into Brawley, which somehow had a population of over 24,000 people but no more than 8 of them were visible at any one time. The town is sprawling. We found an amazing little cafe, where all the waitresses had Bible quotes on the back of their t-shirts, where we ingested vegetables for the first time in days and stored up on lots of healthy calories. We would have considered staying there, with the next 65 miles seeming a little daunting with the sun beating down, but there was literally nothing to do so we decided to keep on trucking.

There was nothing but long, straight, flat or slightly uphill roads ahead of us, not a gas station or or rest stop, but ahead in the distance I saw what looked like a big pile of sand.

By 50 miles, the sand piles appeared closer but it was hot as hell and we started to need more water. By 60 miles, we were in the middle of the sand dunes and had found a string of trailers about 100 yards into the sand, which sold us water for $8. By 70 miles, we were feeling motivated. By 80 miles, we were proud that we had already biked further than we ever had before. By 85 miles we wolfed down some more calories in the shade a some desert tree (the only one we’d seen in a while). By 90 miles we were very sick of being on our bikes, and finishing the last uphill portion of the day. By 100 miles, we were squinting trying to see ahead to where our destination would soon appear. By 105 miles, we found the RV Park where we were headed, fell off our bikes, realized the only convenience store in town (which consisted of the RV Park and the one convenience store) had closed two minutes earlier, went and sweet talked the lady into letting us buy some things, made the inexplicable decision to make two cans of baked beans and pretzels for dinner, got chased by geese, watched Frankie eat Ramen with measuring half-cup, and passed out hard for the night.

 

 

 

 

Mar 12, 2014

Day 5: March 9, Alpine to Ocotillo

madeleine Blog Post

I don’t even know where to start with this. We woke up from an awesome night’s sleep in our hotel in Alpine ready to do some serious climbing. We knew we were in for a crazy day, topographically speaking — the route had up climbing nearly 5,000 feet over 62 miles. What we were not expecting were the unrelenting, soul-crushing headwinds. Being forced to stand up out of the saddle and climb in your granny gear is never a thing that should happen. But oh did it ever happen. Even on the descents were were peddling against resistance. It was cruel. Over the course of the day I shouted my fair share of obscenities into the wind. Luckily, our spirits were kept up by a group of 46 cyclists we met early in the day. They were a group of retirees who were riding with an organized, supported tour from San Diego to Florida. They were generally awesome and hilarious and provided a great deal of entertainment and perspective throughout the toughest parts of the day. We left them with about 25 miles to go and eventually descended into the Imperial Valley and camped in a town called Ocotillo where the only source of food is the mini mart attached to the gas station (if there’s one thing I’ve learned on this trip thus far, it’s that “food deserts” are a very real thing). We stayed in the empty lot between the community center and the fire house with our new friend Frankie. Frankie is an 18 year-old British guy riding solo across the Southern Tier while on a “gap year” (for those not familiar with gap years, please see the following: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU). We all compared stories about how our moms didn’t want us to go biking across the country. Sophie and I have called our mothers every single night to report that we are still alive and well. Frankie told us he hadn’t spoken to his mother once since he’s been here. Then he corrected himself and said, “Well actually, I Facebooked her once.” You’re welcome, momses.

 

 

Mar 9, 2014

Day 4: March 8, San Elijio to Alpine

madeleine Blog Post

Today was a beast. Riding through the rolling hills of San Diego county down the coast from Cardiff to Mission Beach was strenuous enough but once we headed east to encountered a whole different kind of terrain. We said goodbye to the Pacific Ocean and very shortly thereafter entered the desert. It was about 85 degrees today once we rode east and we climbed like we have never climbed before. Initially we had planned on riding up to Lakeside (elevation: 500 feet) but, having ridden farther than planned yesterday, we decided to ride all the way to Alpine (elevation: 2000 feet). We were slowed through the early part of the day by constantly having to check directions and make sure we weren’t lost (which we were at one point and it led to hiking on dirt trails with our 85 lb bikes… seriously). We were slowed in the later part of the day by the unrelenting climbs into the mountains and a stiff headwind. Sophie wanted to push on to a campsite several miles up the road. I vetoed that plan for fear of running into darkness and for need of some luxuriating. Turns out, the only hotel in Alpine is awesome. Pool and jacuzzi, which worked wonders on our sore muscles and free chocolate chip cookies, which worked wonders on our blood sugar levels and general morale. Plus, there’s wifi so not only can we post this blog but we can also watch “House of Cards.” Boom. Until next time.