After our 11 hour day yesterday we knew we had a shortish mileage day but a big climb day.  We did not know how our legs would feel after the battling headwinds. The forecast was for increasing wind during the day with strong gusts – not against us but a strong side gust can be very tricky – so we knew if we were going to set off we needed to do it early.  There was very little to keep us in Lordsburg, which was just an extended pit stop from the Interstate, so we had determined to get to Silver City somehow, even if we had to hitch a lift.

So it was that the alarm dragged us out of sleep at 6am.  While I was brewing our morning coffee on our campstove outside our motel room I couldn’t work out why it was still pitch black. It should have been dawn.  I checked my phone again – no, we had the right time.  I checked that we hadn’t crossed another time zone – we hadn’t.  However the clock had changed to summertime and gone forward an hour – 2 weeks before it does in the UK!  We packed up but it meant we had time for a second brew while we waited for it to get light enough to leave!

I had also had a tumble yesterday.  With the strong headwind David was brilliant at leading – I was only a few centimeters from his back wheel so he had to keep a very steady pace and I had to concentrate hard on matching my leg rhythm to his and spent hours looking at his back wheel.  I got so excited when I saw the turn to Lordsburg ahead that my concentration wavered momentarily and I hit his back pannier and tumbled over.  No harm done other than to pride, although I did feel very wobbly for the last few miles to the motel.  When we got there it transpired it wasn’t me who was wobbly but my back pannier, as I had damaged one of the clips and it was hanging on by one clip rather than two. Luckily we have extra straps for just such an eventuality and David had my pannier firmly strapped to the rack before we set off. 

The other thing we have learnt it that the desert is very cold at night in March, even more so at 4000ft.  We set off wrapped up in all our layers, thick gloves, overshoes, buffs under our helmets.  As the bike computer temperature adjusted to the outside air the figures started to tumble, down to 21F   or minus 6C! It felt sharp but as the air is so dry it didn’t feel too bad and as the sun appeared over the mountain it soon started to warm up.  We also started climbing almost immediately which helped stop our hands freezing to the handlebars!

The yellow morning light was gorgeous as we started to gradually climb out of the flat plain we were on the day before.  As we gained height the vegetation began to change – greener, more diverse, even some trees. Our legs felt surprisingly good after our previous long days – we must be getting a lot fitter. 

As with most sports, how you feel is mostly in the head.  We were pushing harder and going slower than when we were in the headwind yesterday but it felt so much easier.  For a start your whole body was not being buffeted by the wind and the scenery was constantly changing.  With a long climb you get a feel of making progress, which really helps you keep going.

We topped out at about 6335 ft at the ‘continental divide’. After that the area was more populated with scattered dwellings – and was mostly down hill.  That’s the other thing that keeps you going on a climb – the prospect of a glorious descent on the other side!  

A few more ups and downs, legs now definitely tiring.  A stiff climb up past the Tyrone Mine (the 3rd largest open cast copper mine in the world) but we rolled into Silver City just after 1pm.  Here we were going to have a rest day – and our early start extended this to a day and a half.

Silver City was badged as a quirky, cultural town and the downtown area was very quaint.  Built on silver mining, this folded by the end of the 19th century and mining now is for copper, as it was at Gobe. We checked out the Palace Hotel – a building dating from about the 1880s so pretty old for the US. The garrulous owner showed us a number of rooms to choose from – we chose the one where the window did not need to be propped open with a block of wood! The whole place had some character, a change after our budget motels. 

It was blissful to rest for the afternoon and then stroll round the town.  Everything was shut (Sunday) but every second shop seemed to be an art gallery of some sort.  We will check them out tomorrow but will have to resist buying!

We were hungry so we checked out the Little Toad Creek Brewery across the road from the hotel.  At 5.30 it was heaving – we forget that they eat so early in the US.  It was a good thing we did go then as soon after they were turning people away as they had been so busy they had run out of food in the kitchen!  We had standard American fare but it was tasty and filled the hole in our stomachs.  We reflected on how far we had come in the last 2 weeks cycling and concluded that we still enjoyed it and could still get fit enough without our bodies falling apart.  A day off tomorrow will be part of that recuperation. 

Today was the day when we should have been at Lucy and James’ wedding in England.  Our children were there, many of our friends were there and we had them in our minds all day.  The pictures sent to us by WhatsApp looked fabulous and it was clear a good time was had by all.  So L & J – congratulations and apologies again to you (and to our great friends Alison and Steve) for missing your big day.  We were there in spirit and wishing you well.

Instead of attending a wedding we really wanted to go to, we had by far our toughest day on this trip instead.  Bad choices you may feel and you may be right.  It rivals the day we had in the UK when we went from Macclesfield to Bradford in the UK – though this was probably a bit tougher.

Places are far apart here and there is lots of wonderful nothingness in-between.  The places we could stay (including camping with water) were separated by many miles – and we knew this was a second 70+ mile day – after 76 miles yesterday – as there was nowhere between Duncan (40 miles) and Lordsberg (75 miles)..  

We had read the forecast the night before and knew that it would be very, very different to yesterday for 3 reasons.  First, and mainly, the wind had inconveniently turned 180 degrees around and instead of pushing us along (as it had yesterday), it would be against us all day with a steady 10mph and gusts of 18mph.  Secondly, yesterday we finished up 1500 feet below where we started.  Today we had a major climb, a descent and then a gradual climb ending up 1500 feet above where we began.  Thirdly, this was a second long day in a row – no recovery time and so some measure of creeping tiredness was inevitable.

The day started really nicely.  We were on the road before 7 and it was calm.  The road out of Safford was quiet, no wind and was flat.  Were the cycling Gods in our favour and the forecast would be proved wrong.  We doubted it but dared to hope – dashed of course.

The road soon left the irrigated fields and went out into the wilderness.  This is not a rich area – not subsistence farming but our impression is that there are very few jobs in farming these days and not a lot of other economic activity to drive a local economy.  Land seems cheap, plots are large and there is not much reason to keep things looking good.  So most yards had abandoned cars, rusting agricultural machinery or a variety of other discarded objects.  It all left the feeling that there were lots of people left behind – many flying “Trump 2020” flags.  That may seem harsh and we did see one Biden flag – but only one all day.

The road started climbing (as predicted) and the wind got up and was against us (as predicted).  It made for slow progress but we gradually gained amazing views of the valley were climbing out of.  We started at about 2900ft and topped out this climb at 4,400ft – not steep but we climbed against the wind for 27 miles.  Traffic was light and there was no farming except, strangely, at the very top where there was a cattle farm.  Maybe there is a water source there.

On the way up we stopped to examine a historical monument – put up in 1936 to two settlers who were said to have lost their lives in the 1850s “bringing law, order and stability” to the area.  They were killed by Indians when they pursued the Apache after 45 of their horses had been stolen.  I have no doubt that, if the plaque were erected today, the message would be very different and might reflect that there was order in the valley before the settlers arived – and in fact it was their disruption of the established order that had held sway in the area under the control of indigenous peoples that led to the conflict.  The plaque may just have told us more about attitudes in 1936 than what happened in the 1850s. 

We slogged on to the top with the wind more of a challenge than the slope, and then descended to the little town of Duncan.  Here we had “breakfast” at a very traditional diner – cheese omelette, bacon, hash browns and coffee.  By now it was midday and we took our time as we knew the next section was equally tough because the wind was due to increase.

Eventually we had our fill of coffee (endless refills is a US tradition we strongly support) and went back on the bikes after chatting to a couple of locals who were bemused, impressed and worried for us in equal measures.  Bizarrely, we ended up talking about Shakespeare plays at the RSC because the elder man had taught English in High School but had never been to England or seen English actors in a Shakespeare play who were steeped in the language.  Makes us realise how lucky we are to have Stratford as an accessible evening out at home.

The afternoon passed in a blur.  We crossed into New Mexico and battled the wind every turn of the pedals – with us in an alternative reality as we counted down the miles.  The road was straight and largely flat as far the mountains on all sides, and so the landscape was almost unchanging.  I took most of the lead and Bernie had to concentrate to stay in my wind shadow – a two person peleton across the high altitude plains.  This was real cowboy country – and we even saw cattle – but we were just focused on getting there.  Eventually we arrived – about 6pm and collapsed.  

Today was Lucy and James’ day and we offer them love and support and hope they have a long and happy life together.  For us, it all felt a long way away from them but for us getting there was a minor achievement; but there was no time to celebrate because we were too tired.  

We knew we had a long day ahead of us so we were up with the larks and on the road at 7. We expected the roads to be quiet at that time of day but the US wakes up early and traffic was busy for the first few miles out of town, now on the a new road the 70 which we will be following for a couple of days, but it gradually eased off.  

The first 30 miles or so bumped up and down through hills.  None of it was too strenuous and we were going well – probably because we were doing more descending than climbing and we had a favorable wind. 

We were now in the San Carlos Apache Indian reservation. About 10,000 Apache live on the reservation, which was established in 1872 as they were removed from their homelands and set against other Apache tribes by General George Cook as a deliberate strategy.  The Apache had dominated much of northern Mexico, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas for hundreds of years and they were relatively successful in resisting white invasion compared to other tribes but eventually succumbed. The Apache leadership was passed on through female inheritance, so they were on to something (guess who is writing this!). 

Cycling through the reservation, the land seemed very barren and unproductive, but perhaps there were  better areas. Eventually we came out of the hills and into the valley to the town of Bylas ‘Home of the Apache’.  We passed mostly simple wooden shacks but little else.  There was a central gas station but no store that we could see.  There was a herbal tea shop but nowhere for coffee!  There was one fast food outlet that we were grateful to sit in and have some food after 45 miles. The town seemed bleak with little that could provide employment. I hope we got an unfair impression.

On from Bylas we entered an area of some irrigated fields – cotton we had been told, although the fields were bare at this time of year and looked as if they were being prepared for planting.

At Fort Thomas we passed the Melvyn Jones International Memorial.  Melvyn Jones was born there in 1879 and lived there for 8 years.  He went on to found the Lions Club (when he was living in Chicago), with Lions Clubs now throughout the world.  He died in 1961.

Most of the day we had been able to see Mount Graham, which reaches almost 11,000ft and was topped with snow. The road was flat and the wind behind us so we motored along the flat valley.  After about 70 miles we reached an urban area of increasing traffic and at 77 miles we reached Safford.  Most activity seemed to centre on the extremely busy main road.  Moving one block away was like a different universe of quiet pleasant roads.  

We stopped a a bicycle shop to buy an inner tube after David’s exploded the day before.  The guy running it was retiring so was running down the stock but we were able to get the tube.  It’s sad but it seemed unlikely anyone else would take on the bicycle shop. 

We found ourselves a motel – marginally more upmarket that the day before. However basic suits us as we can take in the bikes and cook outside on our little stove. I walked the less than half a mile to a supermarket and was again struck that no one walks in the US.  We virtually never see people walking on the street, which makes a lot of places appear like ghost towns. An example was the night before – when we cycled through the town to reach the restaurant it seemed dead but the moment we opened the door to the restaurant it was heaving with life.

Although we had broken a distance record for this trip we did not feel too bad – helped by the fact that a lot was flat with the wind behind. I fear this won’t last.

We woke in our tent at about 6.30 after both having had a very long and sound sleep.  The tension and the effort of the day seemed a long way away.  Morning coffee in our sleeping bags and then a relaxed, leisurely breakfast with Tom and Carolyn.  They are such wonderful company – interested in everything and so knowledgeable.  They showed us the cliff dwellings which are high above us.  These were in use by the Apache Tribe who were at the centre of sophisticated trading networks well before they came into conflict with white settlers.  They did not have a written tradition so piecing together history is a case of looking at fragments of pottery, glassware and other clues to work out what was going on.  But it was a lot!

 By 10am we were all packed up and could not think of any more excuses and had drunk too much coffee.  So we said our farewells set off.  T & C were going north to see relatives in Las Vegas and then back up to Eastern Washington.  We hope we will see them again soon.

We knew that today was a short day.  We were going into areas with limited accommodation and service options and so today was 35 miles, followed by two 70+ mile days.   But there was one major climb we needed to get over before we could get to the town of Globe.  This was a climb of about 1800ft, and most of it was around 7%.  So it was a slow plod up with great views as we got near the top. 

Then it was a glorious descent – or it was until my rear inner tube decided to explode with a loud bang.  About 7 inches of tube were severed and it was clearly not repairable.  Goodness knows what had caused that!

After the descent, the country flattened out and we saw why Globe has a reputation as one of the largest sites of open cast mining in the USA.  Mining started with silver in 1875 and then moved to copper which is still mined in the area.  The town has a “frontier” feel and its history includes a wide selection of lawlessness including stage coach robberies, murders and lynchings.  It felt pretty peaceful when we saw it – staying at the down at heel but cheap El Ray Motel.  

The town was buzzing in the evening and we were recommended to try Blooms, a Chinese restaurant.  It was excellent – great portions for cyclists and even a glass of rather good wine.  The atmosphere was half the fun – with people dressed up for a Thursday night on the town and others just grabbing a take-out on their way home.  This restaurant – like many in the USA – closes at 8pm as people have done with eating by then.  We left just before it closed and floated effortlessly back to the motel after probably our best meal of the trip so far.

An advance warning: this will be quite a long blog post as it was one of those EPIC days which we get once in a while.  Luckily this was epic and magical rather than epic and disastrous! 34 miles may look an easy day but it took us 8 hours. The photos will hopefully give some idea but could not capture the grandeur of the scenery we were privileged to experience this day.

As David ended yesterday’s post – we started the day with some trepidation as to whether we could get through to Roosevelt Lake on Highway 88.  The golden sun on the campground as we woke up made us feel that it was worthwhile waking up to this gem of a place, even if we ended up turning back and back at the same campsite in the evening.  We were mildly encouraged when we met a Forest ranger volunteer just as we were leaving the campsite.  We asked if we could get through and he was mildly encouraging.  He had hiked down the closed road and thought we could probably get through so we set off with more confidence and all the information we could get. 

The first five miles were up hill on good tarmac through a veritable cactus garden.  It was greener with some flowering plants too displaying pinks and purple flowers.  This is what we call a ‘European climb’ ie not a long long slow 1% climb but a steady 6-7% with views opening up at every turn. 

As it flattened out, we reached the end of the tarmac.  There was a sign warning we faced 22 miles of unpaved road ahead.  The start of the adventure.  We rarely cycle on dirt roads as, with heavy panniers and road tyres, it is quite tricky but we bumped along learning to try and ride with the bumps rather than fight them. After 2 miles we reached Fish Creek Hill overlook with magnificent views into the canyon and surrounding mountains – and the ‘road closed sign’.  It was deserted but there was a huge parking area – and a car parking space designated for disabled only parking.  Great but maybe unnecessary!

There were signs explaining that this was an apache trail and that a crucial part for those driving with carriages and horses was dropping down Fish Creek Hill.  

We had been told not to worry about the barrier.  So we unpacked the bikes to get through the barrier and repacked the bikes to start the road down to Fish Creek Hill.  I say ‘road’ but this was generous. We had to walk the majority of the 2 miles down as the road surface was full of sections of large stones or consisted of large ruts. The canyon walls were on our right and a steep drop on the left so we weren’t taking any chances! However we wanted to stop so many times to take photos that it really didn’t matter.

Half way down we had one of our more unusual encounters.  We met two guys on horseback – real cowboys who were looking for their 74 head of cattle (at that point they had only found 6).  They seemed totally unperturbed to come across two mad heavily laden english cyclist picking their way down the road. ‘Do you have cowboys in England?’ they asked. We explained that our cows are fenced in, although sheep may roam up on the moors. They pointed out 2 sheep precariously balanced high up on the canyon wall – this looked precarious to us but they assured us they never fall off.

The cowboys also assured us that we would get through – in fact their trailer was parked 2 miles down so from there we knew the road was passable from there.  A great relief as it would have been a hell of a push to get the bikes back up the track. There was a huge set of boulders across the road just below the cowboys but a narrow gap by the wall had been created – after all the horses had got through – so we were able to lift the bikes over.  From there we could see the bridge and the creek and we were soon down and having a break under trees, eating the banana loaf that Julie had made for us.  

From here we plodded along the dirt road for the next 18 miles.  At one stage I glanced at my Wahoo and saw we were averaging 5.4 miles an hour!  So it was not fast but was rewarding.  The road broadly followed the Fish Creek river but it had numerous climbs and drops, most of which were pretty steep.  The ups were hard and the downs were harder.  This was not complete remoteness because there were electricity cables throughout the valley – we assumed they were bringing the hydro-electric power from the Roosevelt Dam down to the Phoenix area.  Various trucks of workers were working on the power lines and gave us a wave from their posts high up on the stanchions as we passed.  There was also a helicopter delivering large blocks of something back and forth to a particular stanchion – we wondered at the pilot’s expertise as he or she delivered load after load.

The road snaked its way up and down along the valley and we ambled along trying to find the parts of hard sand and avoiding the soft bits where the types sank into the surface and it came to a complete stop.  That was fine until a minibus came the other way and David was forced into soft sand, came off and grazed his leg.  It looked worse than it was – or so he assured me – and was not too bad after we cleaned the sand out of the graze.  Just a flesh wound!

Eventually we saw the Roosevelt Dam and experienced the joy of tarmac again.  The Dam was built between 1906 and 1911, and was the largest stone dam in the world at the time.  It was rebuilt in the 1990s when they worked out that it might not be tall enough to withstand the highest likely flood – raising the level of 77ft and putting in hydro-electricity.  

Then it was just 6 miles to the Windy Hill campsite (yes it was windy) to meet up with Tom and Carolyn Sullivan who were our first ever warmshowers hosts in Washington State in 2013.  They were on the site with their camper and their welcome was as warm as ever.  It was lovely to see them and we shared an evening of chat, laughter and observations on life, the universe and everything.  They are now in their 70s and an example of living life to the full – getting the most from each year and contributing to the good of others.  

It was a tough day – 4,300 feet of climbing – and lots of slow cycling on dirt roads but the scenery was so memorable.  The photos maybe do not do it justice but it will live long in the memory.

We said our goodbyes after a delicious breakfast prepared by Julie. Such a warm and generous host. 

Today was a slightly odd and in parts frustrating day, but which ended with us camping at an amazing location in a desert gorge.

The greater Phoenix metropolitan area is “extensive”.  The first 38 miles today were flat, suburban cycling; partly along canal paths but mainly along fairly busy roads with houses on either side.  Some neighbourhoods were smarter than others, but overall it was our exposure to middle America.  Very little grass here as front yards were mostly stones and cacti but there was green in the occasional park or sports field.  It was low rise, low density often fairly attractive housing that went on for mile after mile.  This area must have been desert a few years ago but the city has expanded to meet demand, although whether there is the water to support such a vast urban area as our climate changes remains to be seen.  

Eventually we approached the foot of the Superstition mountains which marked the end of the plain.  The stones above us were as red as any mountain I have ever seen.  The road then swung left uphill past some “Disney themed” attractions celebrating the time when this was frontier country.  We passed up the chance to visit a ghost town and gold mine;  it looked antiseptically clean and far too organised to have any real ghouls.  By now the road was narrow and the gadient was getting steeper, but the traffic was thinning as we headed up to Canyon Lake.  

We were on the 88 state road towards Roosevelt Lake, the Apache Trail, as it was the trail used by Apache native americans in days gone by.   Sections of this road beyond Canyon Lake were washed away in 2019 when there were monsoon rains, and it has not reopened to traffic as a through road.  It was always a road that had a 20 mile unpaved section but now part of that is impassable for cars but is used to access Canyon Lake which is a well known beauty spot.

The Arizona State Traffic organisation confirms that, whilst the road is closed to vehicles, it remains open to pedestrians and cyclists.  No one seemed to know if it was actually passable for cyclists but we have decided to give it a try.

We wound our way up the road to Canyon Lake, passing a group of locals who were packing their horses back into a trailer after an 8 miles ride into the bush.That looked a great way to explore the terrain – if you had skills on a horse (which we don’t really have).  Can it be that different to a bike?  

Then up and over as we swooped down to Canyon Lake.  Our first attempt to find a campsite was met with a US “jobsworth” who unhelpfully insisted there was a minimum 2 day stay requirement at his campside and that would be $120 if we wanted a pitch.  We demurred and he said we could go 2 miles “along” to Tortilla Flat where there was another campsite where you can stay for a single night – all said as if we should be equated to some form of species of low life for not staying more than one night.  And – he added – there was no water there.  

So we filtered water from the lake and cycled off fully laiden – by now it was nearly 5pm.  Mr “jobsworth” was wrong on just about every point.  First, it was not 2 miles but 4.  Secondly, it was not “along” but a 400 feet climb up and then a 200 feet descent.  Thirdly, it had water when we arrived – plenty of it.  But most of all, Tortilla Flat was in a fantastic valley with spectacular views on all sides.  

We paid our $20 for the night and felt it was better than a 5 star hotel any day as the setting sun lit up the mountain tops.  We spent part of the evening chatting to Terry and Cindy, the hugely welcoming campground hosts and felt really pleased to be here.  But we were the first cyclists to stay at the campground and they could not tell us if any anyone had made it through.  So tomorrow will be a challenge and it remains to be seen if we will make it the Roosevelt Dam along the washed out section of the road.  By the time I am able to post this blog, we’ll know the  answer.

After 9 days on the road it was time to have a full rest day.  Although we had had a couple of short days it’s not the same as just staying in the same place – particularly when this was with Julie, a generous and interesting warmshowers host who opened her house up to us as if it was our own. As well as the bliss of having lovely meals cooked for us and a washing machine for clean clothes, it was great to have interesting conversation beyond ‘where are you from’ and ‘where are you going’. It was also good to have time to to sort out niggles with the stove and start to plan the next section.

We had inadvertently arranged our day off on a Monday when all the museums and galleries were closed – but that did mean we really relaxed without trying to cram too much in and in the end stayed most of the day at home.

I had problems with my Wahoo bike computer and David had managed to persuade them to send us a new one, care of a local bike shop that turned out to be only a mile or so away. When we rang in the morning the parcel still had not arrived but the tracking told us it was due to be delivered that day.  In the end we decided to go to the bike shop anyway to get some new inner tubes.  Luckily the delivery arrived while we were there – in fact 2 parcels as Wahoo had sent us 2 new bike computers!  Better than not having one that did not work but we now have the headache of carrying it until they let us know how to return one of them!

David had brought his wig and bands to show the students in San Diego (although he then forgot to take them on the day), so we amused Julie by showing them to her and trying to explain why such fancy dress was required for British justice!  Photos were sent to her husband and daughter with great amusement at her new profession.

A good recuperation day and looking forward to the next section of the trip.

The night was fine but we could feel the cold moving in as we walked back from town after a memorable evening.  We went to a traditional American/Mexican restaurant.  The food was OK – not great – but the beer was excellent.  

Sitting next to us was a man and his wife – in their forties – and their teenage daughter (all wearing caps).  This was cowboy country and lots of the men were wearing cowboy hats although how much any of them knew one end of a horse from another may well have been open to question.  As we chatted to our neighbors (no cowboy hats) it became clear that they were the “real deal” for this part of the world.  They were understated, funny and great company.  They were here because their son was competing in a cow lassoing competition and had done rather well – how well not specified but “rather well” probably meant spectacularly well.  The man was into hot air ballooning and had come to England (Bristol) to discuss design modifications with a UK balloon manufacturer.  Who knew that some world’s best hot air balloons are designed in Bristol? But Cameron Balloons is the world’s largest manufacturer of hot air balloons and exports them to Phoenix so our friend can fly them here for tourists and anyone who wants to pay him to go skywards.

They live on a ranch outside Phoenix and have “lots” of horses.  He proudly told us that his wife is the horse expert, being passed horses that are found abandoned (often ex-race horses let out into the desert because they cannot be sold and are too costly to feed).  She also buys, rears, trains and sells horses.  The daughter told us she really loves “barrel racing” – riding a horse around a three barrel set up.  Check it out on Youtube videos – it involves amazing horsemanship.  All the family go riding off in the desert – not on roads like we do but on horses for days at a time.  They spoke of the serenity of the landscape, oneness with nature and the peace of the experience.  It was great to meet them – and I suspect they have more connection to this part of the country than lots of others strutting around in cowboy hats.

We thought about their experiences as we ambled back in the cold.  The desert can be really cold at night and it was due to fall to near zero overnight, and did not disappoint.  There was frost on the grass this morning and the stove decided to break down today of all days – partly I suspect because the cold froze the rubber cups seal.  I managed to mend it and we eventually got coffee – but not in our sleeping bags as we hoped.

The first few miles were flat, slightly downhill and fast.  We had full cold weather gear on including full gloves and overshoes.  Gradually feeling returned to our fingers and toes.  After 9 miles we turned off the main highway 60 onto a smaller road going East, and with far less traffic.  This was part of the Sonaran desert, and was greener than the deserts in California.  It is also the only place we could see Saguaro Cacti – the tall distinctive Cacti with arms going out like a person standing to attention.  

We stopped for a brew and some trailmix as the sun gained some strength, and took photos of the stunning surroundings.

Then we pressed on and did a great descent down to the neck of the Pleasant Lake Dam which keeps in the supply water for Phoenix.  This is mainly from the Central Arizona Project – or CAP – which is a canal to divert water from the Colorado River to a variety of places, but most notably the 40 sq mile lake held in by the dam we were passing underneath.  The CAP is 336 miles long and provides billions of galleons of water to those living in desert areas.  It is an amazing feat of engineering (one for Lucy Taylor to better fo course).

After that we pressed along and then went onto quieter roads as we entered  suburban towns north of Phoenix.  After 40 miles we stopped for something to eat at Peroria.  Then it was a final 24 miles to our warmshowers host for the evening. That was mainly along a bike track which followed a series of vast dry river beds across northern Phoenix and then along the canal.  When it rains here, the heavens must open because these are vast spaces for water – albeit bone dry at the moment.  

Then the route took us along a canal with a series of underpasses as the trail runs under the main roads.  These underpasses are home to a thriving community of the homeless.  There is room for their tents and belongings and for us to pass by.  None were threatening at all to us as passing cyclists – in fact they were all totally polite as we slowed down and inched past their homes.  Homelessness is a feature of cities all over the world, and it was on show here.

We finally reached our wonderful Warmshowers host, Julie – tired but refreshed after a lovely hot shower.

Our rather run down motel was great for our purposes.  A large room, hot water, and clean.  It had seen better days – but then the last 2 years have been disastrous for the tourist economy so no surprise that things have got run down.  We met a nice Canadian biker who was down motorbiking round the desert in the the sun to escape minus 20C in Winnipeg.  Who could blame him.

Our body clocks have finally adjusted and for the first time we weren’t up with the dawn.  The weather has also changed again – cold and windy- so no pressing need to set off early to avoid the heat.  So a 9am start felt positively late.

The day was spent going down the middle of a wide valley – straight, straight, straight.  We went 40 miles before any significant bend in the road!  It was blowy – mostly a side wind but a bit behind so not too bad, but it was jackets and gloves first thing.  The desert can be cold – and not just at night!

It was scrubby desert with occasional irrigated fields and at one point some fruit trees (unidentified) in blossom). 

Mountains either side; sometimes close but sometimes in the distance. With so little change in scenery, the brain had to focus on other things to stop getting numbingly bored. The ticking over of the miles on the bike computers, focussing on a lump in the mountains that got gradually nearer, was reached and eventually passed (but only after about 20 miles), getting in tune with our bodies,  the turning of the pedals and just absorbing the experience of cycling through the desert that was so different to cycling in the UK. 

About half way we passed through the tiny town of Aguila where we could at least sit down out of the wind at the one cafe over a very indifferent cup of coffee. Then more of the same. Often going imperceptibly upwards at about half a percent gradient – which also plays tricks with the brain – as it looks flat but you are pedalling harder than the brain tells you you should. 

Finally we entered some hills, wiggled up a bit on a more proper uphill then had a glorious 8 mile descent down into the town of Wickenberg.  This town started in about 1860 and there are some houses around the railway station from that time.  They look like a Western Film set.  We had followed the railtrack all day but did not see a single moving train.  I wonder if it still used?  The town is busy in the winter with those escaping the cold of northern states, but has more to it than most of the places we have passed through.  It is the “horse lassoing” capital of this area – and there are lots of parade grounds where competitions take place to see who can demonstrate teh best horsemanship (or horsewomanship).  

We found an RV park near the centre which actually allowed tent camping – it even had a bit of grass to pitch our tent – and only charged us $10 including hot showers and wifi. Result!  It even came with a picnic table to spread ourselves out on.  We pitched our tent slightly tucked out of the wind (although can still feel it) and then had lovely hot showers.  We are walking distance into the quaint old town and plan to eat out there this evening to gear ourselves up for a longer day into Phoenix tomorrow. 

We woke to hear a strong wind whirling around our little cabin – causing instant concern.  Then we looked at our phones and realised that – to our total astonishment – the strong Southwesterly wind would favour us.  Cyclists know wind is 90% against them so this was a pleasant surprise.

We packed up – a now familiar routine – and were off by about 7.15am.  We had now left Pacific Standard Time and entered Mountain Standard Time by crossing the Colorado River into Arizona.  But all our terribly clever devices still thought we were in PST!  They will correct in coming days (we hope).

The route took us onto the hard shoulder of the motorway, I10, which runs from Los Angeles to Phoenix.  So the first part was like cycling on the hard shoulder of the M62 except the trucks here are much bigger and the RVs seem even larger.  The problem is that there were no other roads over the pass and so it was the I10 or nothing.  Not romantic, idyllic cycling (woosh another truck passes by with its draught pulling us all over the place) but needs must.  The desert scenery was spectacular but it was difficult to concentrate on the subtle changes in rock colours when trying to stay as far to the far side of the shoulder as possible (but not falling into the briars waiting to cut legs and arms to pieces.  The gradient was slight – another feature of US roads.  It was between 0% and 2% for a climb of 1000 feet – so long and a bit tedious.

Finally we topped out and left I10, coming round the corner so see the hugely imposing Dome Rock.  Here we saw our first collection of “boondockers”.  This was not a word that I knew before today but “RV boondocking” is a “thing” here (with credit to Mayo and Kermode on the definition of a “thing”).  It fact, RV boondocking is a major thing and we were entering the capital of RV boondocking.  It means camping out in the boondocks with you RV – without power, water or any facilities.  Power is provided by solar panels (or gasoline), water is purchased by the multiple galleons and people (usually pensioners) come here for the winter months to escape the snow in more northerly states.  Hence those doing the boondocking are called “snowbirds”.   A whole industry has grown up to service the needs of the RV boondockers and the major attraction of this area appears sand buggying.

One up from boondocking is to over-winter at an RV park in this part of Arizona.  We must have passed 40 parks today – all with their plots laid out carefully.  Being March, the parks are beginning to empty as people go home, only to return from about early November.  

We even met one English couple from Cornwall who had their own RV here and overwintered in an RV park in order to be able to escape the rain in Cornwall and experience the delights of driving sand buggies around the desert.  

It is not something that appeals to us to be honest.  The people we met were lovely, relaxed and had made their own choices based on their own circumstances which we don’t know of course.  Choosing to sit out the winter in the Arizona desert off-grid in an expensive RV is a mindset that we struggled to understand.  However, they probably looked at us and struggled to understand why anyone would want to put themselves through the effort (and pain) of cycling day after day when you can see the same scenery from the comfort of the RV cab.  Come to think of it, they have a point.

After the first pass we dropped down to the town of Quartzsite – the centre of boondocking support.  It had been suggested to us by the camp host in Ehrenberg that we should check out the breakfasts at the Laundromat.  We found a building that had “Laundromat” on the roof and also appeared to have a cafe.  It turned out to be the largest laundromat we had ever seen – maybe 40 washing machines or more – and with a cafe attached so customers could have coffee and breakfast whilst the washing was being done.  We had omelets which were adequate but did not quite live up to the billing.

The town was fascinating for a series of reasons.  First, almost everyone was aged 50 to 80.  This town serviced those living in their RVs who were, of course, of a certain age.  Secondly, the market had the best spread of fresh fruit and vegetables we had seen since the supermarkets of San Diego.  Seniors know what they like – and they like it fresh.  Thirdly, there were gemstone shops a plenty.  This was a market for rare stones recovered from the desert and the trade was thriving. Maybe that is one of the activities for the boondocking Seniors.  Lastly, we were told, 75% of the people would be gone by the end of March and it would be a ghost town until November, just serving the occasional passing motorist off the I10.  All gave us pause for thought as we ambled amongst the winter-time residents.

After Quartzsite, we rejoined the I10 and did another flatish climb up to 1400ft, and then flew down the other side until we thankfully left the I10 and joined state road 60.  The road carried on descending and we sped along, with wind assistance.  After a few miles we reached at town called Brenda, where we stopped for lunch at some picnic tables outside the post office.  More RV parks here and temporary residents can sign up for a PO box to get their mail.  So we had a series of conversations with people as they came to check for post – mostly friendly but gentle incredulity at cycling here at all, and with some conviction that the roads were too narrow for it to be safe. The roads are really wide by European standards but there is this feeling here that it is not safe (or proper) for bikes and cars to share the same tarmac.  We have seen that when we have been unable to ride on the shoulder (because it is either non-existent or so broken up it is unrideable, and someone in a Jeep blasts his (and I suspect it is always a “him”) horn for us to get off his road.  98% of vehicles are great, including virtually all commercial drivers, but there are a few others!  We reassured the worried grandmas that the roads were as safe as anywhere and far safer than cycling in London (true but not saying much to be honest).

Having left one female named town, we set out for the final leg to another female named town, Salome.  For those who cannot recall their bible stories, Salome danced and persuaded an entranced ruler to reward her with John the Baptist’s head on a plate (duly severed).  Not a great role model for decision making by either men or women to be honest but there you go – that is what the town is called – subtitled “the place she danced”!  

It was another climb, this time up to 1900ft and we finally made it.  An indifferent but friendly motel – only marginally more than an overpriced tent space at an RV park – and Bernie cooked up a lovely supper.  

More stunning desert scenery all today but our abiding memories of today are about trying to understand the transient snowbird population that come to this desert wilderness to escape the snow.

We have just spent a glorious hour watching birds on the River Colarado, with the setting sun lighting up the Eastern bank and desert mountains in the distance.  The Colarado River marks the boundary between California and Arizona, so we will leave CA tomorrow and venture into AZ.  The “campsite” is by the river but it is sort of abandoned, and hence free.  The “Rest Rooms” (as they are called here despite the fact that no one goes for a rest there) are closed and there is even a padlock on the external fosset to stop any campers from helping themselves to water.  We did not need to be concerned as we still carry our wonderful Platyplus which allows us to filter our own water – so river water in one end and drinking water out the lower end – gravity fed through the filtration system.  Worth its weight in gold this evening as the nearest place to buy water is miles away – and it tasted delicious.

So we are all set up for our first night camping.  Bernie is cooking supper as I type this – knowing we will not able to post until some point tomorrow as the phone signal here is weak to non-existent.

So we are feeling pretty pleased with ourselves at the moment, but this was a day of mixed emotions.  We left Brawley (a non-pretentious agricultural town which we liked very much, and where everyone drives a vehicle with very big wheels) at about 6.15am.  It was just light but was 40 degrees – about 3 degrees C (please check and correct me).  Our fingers were cold and the light was straight in our eyes as we pedalled Eastwards.  Brawley is irrigated desert – mega arable fields growing a variety of crops.  It felt like the breadbasket of Southern California.  We started below sea level  at -138ft and gradually (i.e. less than 0.5%) climbed out of the valley.  The gradient was enough to make the water gush along the irrigation ditches, making googling sounds as it went under bridges to the fields.

We passed the canal and it was like a switch had been flicked – no more irrigation and so total desert with hardly anything growing apart from the odd hardy bush.  Then, the dunes started and we saw lots of places to the south of the road for sand buggys which race across the dunes for sport. It looked great fun but that is for another day.  To the North was the Algones Dunes Wilderness.  No sand buggys here – nothing to interrupt the stunning dune scenery.

We stopped for a drink at Glamis – mainly because it had shade and may have been the last shade for the next 40 miles or so.  No one here is shy about flying flags in support of Donald Trump.  Precisely how this urban shyster who never seems to venture out into the fresh air unless it is to hit balls on a manicured golf course has become the darling of those who still have an “outback” mentality is a complete mystery.  However, he is plainly hitting the right buttons amongst those who spend their time on sand buggys.  We also met a couple of really friendly blokes whose T-Shirts adopted the same approach.  I merely observe!

By now it was about 9.30am and we had covered about 23 miles.  We knew it would get hotter, there were no services on the road for the next 40 miles and there was a big hill to climb.  What we did not take into account was that the wind would be against us – so much for doing this route with the prevailing winds.  When we did Lands End to John O’Groats in the UK in 1991 we picked a month when the wind reverted from a normal South Westerly to a near constant northerly breeze – so we battled the wind nearly all the way despite following the direction which should be assisted by prevailing winds.  This feels a bit of deja vu!

On the plus side, the traffic was light (mainly huge trucks which gave us a wide berth and a friendly tonk of the horn), the slopes were not steep and the top was lower than we expected.  The desert scenery was amazing – at one point we watched a desert fox look carefully at us to decide if he was dinner for us, we were dinner for him or whether we could live in mutual harmony.  This fox clearly had not had lessons from Putin as the last option prevailed.  We also saw a huge rapter, circuling in the thermals but could not identify it, but it looked stunningly beautiful.

We pressed on up againt the wind and eventually got to the lunar landscape at the top – rock outcrops with scattered stunted cacti. We huddled under some vegetation in a dry culvert to get some shade while we ate some sandwiches (regular eating today after yesterday’s lesson).  We then passed a trigpoint – but not there to note the height but the fact that this was the route for native Americans to follow in pre-Columbus times to move from one fertile valley to another (The Colorado river valley to the Imperial valley).  This is a land with a huge history before any European stepped foot on the continent.

After that the road went up and down a series of “dips” – 50 feet down and up again.  These are far more exhausting than a steady climb of course but if that is the geography, that is where the road goes.

Finally we arrived in Palo Verde by the Colorado River, where irrigation started again and the desert blooms.  67 miles was a long day but it was necessary as there was nowhere to stop between here and where we started.  The light is just fading now, we have had supper and it will be soon time to turn in for the night to read or play cards.

Another day on the bikes – physical and mental ups and down but series of new experiences. 

There are not many days when we only do about 100m climbing over 55 miles but this was one so you can guess the day was flat.  We also reached the low point of the trip – literally and not emotionally as we ended the day about 130ft below sea level. Still 55 miles at this stage of the trip was still quite a big deal for us – especially as we did not pace it properly or eat properly.  How long have we been doing this?  You would think we would know by now, but there is always a day near the beginning when we think we don’t need to eat as much as we do. Our son Anthony, who is a very experienced cyclist, has told us many a time that we should eat hourly.  He was able to admonish us gently when we spoke later in the day on Whatsapp (another fantastic invention for travellers). Lesson learnt again!

So the pacing – I think we got a bit over excited being out in the desert and on the flat. We knew it was 30 miles to anywhere so we pushed it on, glorying in the new desert landscape in the early morning light. Mexico was still just a few miles to our right and the border patrol was one of the few vehicles out first thing. I read the novel American Dirt earlier this year (highly recommended) about a woman fleeing Mexico to the US.  The section about crossing the border felt very evocative in this landscape.

After about 20 miles we saw some trees – it must mean water.  It was as if a switch had been flipped as suddenly there were green irrigated fields and bird song. There was also a massive solar farm spreading mile after mile into the distance. Seems a very sensible way to harness renewable energy but indicates massive investment. We thought we did well at Hitterhill with 30 panels – here there are thousands upon thousands, stretching for at least 10 miles.

We did feel we were fading when we reached Calexico, a border town with a crossing to the much larger city, Mexicali, on the other side of the border. Options were limited and we had to settle on Starbucks, which we try to avoid (compensation – good coffee).

From Calexico we turned north. The route had us on a busy dual carriageway but we realised after a few miles that it allowed us a cross under the freeway (I8 again).   After that we turned onto a very quiet parallel road. This area was still irrigated with green fields – although where it wasn’t the sand of the desert was evident. We passed a derelict industrial site – a cattle manure recycling centre.  Clearly not enough cattle manure to keep it going.  

As we were ‘nearly there’ we didn’t stop for lunch so the last 10 miles ground by slowly. At last we turned left into Brawley and to our motel, where we finally wolfed down a late lunch. Brawley is a desert town ‘home of the cattle cry’ – whatever that is.  We didn’t see any cattle or any cowboys.  It still had enormously wide roads and any amount of fast food joints but it felt pleasant.  Probably not so pleasant in the summer when average temperatures are in excess of 40 degrees C.

We rested, did our washing, stocked up on supplies and still being only 25 miles from the border had a good Mexican meal with even better Mexican beer!  They eat early in the US – the restaurant closes at 8 (imagine that in Spain) so we were eating our evening meal only a few hours after our lunch!

As we left our room, we bumped into a young German couple who were cycling from Florida to San Diego – so they were slightly more ahead with their trip than us. They have been on the road for 7 months and are heading into Mexico and then to South America. We chatted, had a great deal in common of course and left for our meal thinking we were not the only mad fools on two wheels self-propelling acoss this contient.

Back at the motel we watched the analysis of Biden’s State of the Union address on CNN. We have been impressed with their coverage of the Russian invasion of Ukraine with some powerful reports yesterday.  It is always odd when major world events happen while we are away, as often seems to happen.  Important to still keep in touch with events, even as we also feel detached from ‘real life’. 

My head cold has still not settled so I was asleep at 7pm, and then woke at 3.30am; so the jet lag was not getting any better.  But, on the plus side, I managed to get to read for 3 hours and finished the book I foolishly picked up at the airport.  That meant that I could leave the book at the motel (along with my shaving cream) and thus reduce the weight I was carrying to a very small degree.  I hope the next occupant enjoys the book as much as I did.

We left about 7am and started to climb.  Pine Valley was at 3750ft and the first climb topped out at about 4100ft.  The morning mist hung in the air as we got higher and it was a lovely morning, but there was also a stiff breeze.  It is sometimes hard to work out which way a wind is blowing in the mountains, but it was soon clear that it was fairly strong and almost entirely against us.  The next few miles became really tough as we sailed downhill but then had to battle the wind uphill.  Climbing an 8% hill with a 25mph wind against us sapped the little energy we had.  Eventually we topped out after 16 miles – back at 4100ft – and sailed down to a tiny breakfast stop.  Today there was no question of one breakfast between two – we each had eggs, bacon hash browns and toast, with endless coffee to make it all go down well.  

Half an hour later we were human again and were back on the bikes.  Fuelled by breakfast (or more accurately second breakfast) we made it over the next few hills and dropped down to near Jacuma Springs.  Here we encountered a massive structure weaving ominously through the landscape.  This was “THE WALL” of Trump fame – although the history of walls goes back much further and Trump was not particularly effective in getting it extended – either in length or height.  

The academic consensus based on research is that constructing walls is not an effective way to constrain immigration, but they are popular with some voters.  So billions of dollars have been spent building this wall and even more is spent patrolling the wall, and meanwhile those who are determined to come into the USA from Mexico appear to find other ways to enter.  The wall seems to me (and I accept my bias) to be an unfortunate symbol of a country’s value.  But I can see that the politics are difficult and politics is not always logical or evidence based – as those who know me well can hear me saying.

Jacumba Springs got a great write up a few years ago but the resort is closed and there did not appear to be anything to detain us.  Sadly, this town has seen better days.

We crossed the high, dry plane out of the town and got used to the idea of being able to see scrub land for miles in front of us.  Then, we began to climb again, reaching the Freeway (I8) at about 4100ft (our third time of climbing up to that level today).  Cyclists are normally banned from the hard shoulders of freeways, but they make an exception if there is no other route.  This was such an exception and we raced down at about 6% for about 10 miles – passing the 4,000ft, 3,000ft, 2,000ft and finally the 1,000ft signs.  It got hotter as we descended and thankfully it was a head wind and not a cross wind.  

Finally we left the freeway in the desert at about 400ft!  What a descent – 25mph all the way on pristine tarmaced hard shoulder.  Only a few trucks blew their horns at us – but I cannot say if they were friendly or irritated that they were sharing the road with such low life as cyclists.

We pulled into Ocotillo – a friendly but run down desert town which had echoes of  “Nomandland”, but a nice feel to it.  I am now in our motel – cheapest by far to date but perfectly functional.  Tomorrow we experience the desert all day but 47miles and another 3,000ft of climbing is plenty for today.

Although yesterday was a shortish day, nearly 900m climbing on the first outing was tough and as a result we were asleep very early. This, combined with David still suffering from a cold he had picked up on the plane (and no it was not Covid) scuppered our recovery from jet lag.  So it was another 4am wake up for David and 5am for me. Luckily breakfast was from 6am and we were on the road soon after 7 in crisp morning air just above freezing. 

We decided to deviate from American Adventure Cycling route which ran alongside the freeway I8 for a lot of the time.  We had a lot of climbing to do and its not pleasant with the roar of the freeway in your ears. Our route was a little longer and had more climbing but that was more than made up for the fact it followed a quiet side road. The first 5 miles in the early morning sun were glorious as we dipped down into the Jopatul valley.  The landscape was rocky but still green at this time of year. Then we had to pay for that descent, as the climbing began.  It only finished just before we got to our destination. Pretty tough for day 2, especially when we were both not as fit before starting as we would have wanted.  But the cycling was fine and soon we were back into the climbing mentality – low gears and plod, plod, plod. There was enough of interest to keep us occupied and we felt pretty good for the first section, passing ranches and small dwellings.  It felt a world away from San Diego.

As the road swung north and eventually crossed over I8 we were beginning to tire. At last we reached Descanso and the wonderful Descanso Junction restaurant.  We were sorely in need of a break and this more than fit the bill.  The ‘saloon’ style restaurant was buzzing with people in for Sunday morning breakfast. Second breakfast is always our favorite meal when we are on the road, but we have learnt about the portion sizes in the US.  So we shared a ‘gourmet omelette’ which was more than enough sustenance for 2. We also remembered the great US tradition of perpetually filling your coffee mug and got a good caffeine hit. 

Although only 7 miles to go, most of it was more uphill.  The landscape on this side of the mountain was greener with snow lining the side of the road.  Yes folks, not a misprint, there were still pockets of snow left from the storm that had passed through Southern California the day before we arrived, bringing very cold weather. We had heard it had been snowing in the mountains and we were now at 3000ft. We were told that a nearby mountain which was 6,00 feet had two feet of snow.  It seemed unbelievable that this was the first and probably only snow we would see this year!

At last we topped out at over 4000ft in the one horse town of Guatay before a final swoop down into the much more pleasant little town of Pine Valley. The little petrol station and store were helpful in filling our camping fuel bottle (which takes a quarter of a gallon – impossible at most large petrol stations) and we had a nice chat with the friendly store owner who assured us that we had done the most difficult part of the road from San Diego.  It was only midday but we had been plodding up hill most of the time since 7am so we were jolly glad to find the Pine Valley motel, who let us check in 2 hours early.

We could hardly move for a couple of hours but gradually revived enough to take a little stroll round the town and buy some provisions to cook a meal in the evening, now the camping stove was up and running.