Saturday September, 27 2008 - Day 13

Saturday September, 27 2008 - Day 13

Flagstaff AZ – We get to Flagstaff late and pull right into a Hampton Inn parking lot. We are tired from the riding both bike and car. We need a real meal, showers and some encouragement. We get one of three. The Hampton Inn is booked but there are 15 hotels nearby. The attendant at the desk informs us that all the hotels in the area are booked. The national women’s high school soccer tournament is here in town with us. She points to a slip of paper with a local concierge’s phone number to call. Joe calls and finds out Amerisuite directly across the street has two double rooms. Another group of travelers comes through the door of the Hampton Inn after us and call the same number. They are told there are no more rooms available – phew that was close. Sometimes the “path of the cow” leads to the slaughter house. We jump in the truck and head over to Amerisuite.

Joe and I get up at 4:20AM. I eat an apple and put on several layers of clothing. It is less than 40 degrees outside and I don’t want the cold morning downhill wind chill to force me to surrender like Bo did coming out of Pagosa Springs, CO several days earlier. Joe adds a minimal amount of clothing to his body to handle the morning’s climate.

The sleeping arrangement changed last night so that Joe and I wouldn’t wake up the other crew members with our pre-dawn departure. We will simply slip our room key under their door and when they wake up and eat breakfast they can load all the baggage into the truck and catch us. Shortly before we depart Joe and I realize we don’t have a tire pump between us and wake Chet up for the truck keys anyway. Chet never get’s back to sleep and throughout the day mentions his most unfortunate start

We turn on our front lights, back lights and blinkers. Joe and I head out into the dark. Our day will cover 200+ miles and most of the state of Arizona. We head down a dark road and the new lights work better than the others we had but there continues to be the unexpected bump or hole making us fearfully aware that our limited ability to see the road. We pedal downhill but not at full speed. We are only traveling at 25 mph but we both know a fall at this speed could be crippling or worse.

The downhill is long and I start to think the day is going to be a breeze. I rationalized that we are coming out of the elevated northern Arizona into the flats. As such, we should be pedaling downhill or on flat roads most of the day. “YO”, Joe chimes. I stop. “Flat tire.” He says. He had been riding on it for the last 5 minutes. We pull over and spend 20 minutes changing the tube. Lucky we woke up Chet for the pump. Well, lucky for us – later come to find out sucks to be Chet.

The morning light in Sedona and the surrounding canyons of Arizona is magical. I don’t know much about energy vortex’s or palm reading but after riding through this area around dawn I sense something mystical and remarkable. We stop for a quick breakfast in Sedona and milk has become one of Joe’s staple foods. He keeps saying that hasn’t craved milk in years but can’t get enough of it on this trip. I grab the container of the local brand we have been drinking and am alarmed of how healthy this Southwestern milk is compared to our’s in the Northeast. Triple the protein, double the Potassium and Calcium. I spin the bottle over and see it is fortified milk. I shake my head and shove down another pancake.

In Clarkdale, 25 miles out of Sedona Chet and Bo catch up to us. We have been climbing hills every since Sedona and the sun is starting to crank up the temperature. Chet decides to start riding with us for the remainder of the day. It turns out to be a near terminal experience and also the best riding he will have for the remainder of the trip. The terminal part comes from a climb he didn’t know we are about to undertake on our way to Jerome. Jerome from Clarkdale may as well be OZ from Kansas.

The switchbacks start and the grade is very steep. The road signs start speaking of steep grades and I say, “get ready to go vertical”. During the whole climb my motivational thoughts are that the other side of Jerome must be downhill. Maybe in Colorado this is the case but in Arizona Jerome is only the half way point of the climb.

We finally arrive in Jerome but don’t stop. It is going to be a 200 mile day. We started in the darkness but don’t want to end in the darkness. Joe has become somewhat skeptical. No matter what time we start or stop riding each day we always end up checking into our hotel after 10PM and very tired. Today will be no different.

We pedal from Jerome to Prescott and are hungry and delusional from the heat. We stop at the voters think is the “Best breakfast place in Prescott”. Before we go in Joe says all he wants is an “Italian Sub sandwich”. I go in and talk to the hostess who somewhat agrees they have such a thing. We start to order and are informed there is no such sandwich here. Furthermore, they don’t make ice cream shakes which Chet wakes up every morning simply for the possibility of crossing paths with one. I eat a big and delicious breakfast, Bo is on a diet, Chet eats and Joe goes from polish sausage to French fries looking for the sub sandwich he doesn’t get.

The wait staff is interested in our attire and we start a conversation about where we are heading. One woman tells us the best route and that it is downhill and flat the remainder of the day. I think this comment alone made up for the missing Italian Sub and milkshake. We ride south on 89 through the remainder of town. A mile outside of town I see the street sign for steep grade again and conclude is must be for the downhill coming. We are about the round a corner and I see a heavy man on a touring bicycle fly past on the other side of the road. My brain goes haywire. I go back to the sign. I look back at the guy. I pedal up to Joe and say that I must be confused. We look at each other worried but both know the real answer. Heavy, seemingly out of shape guys don’t fly along the other side of the road coming off long and treacherous up hill climbs. Joe is still not ready to surrender to our fate and says “maybe he just started his ride on the other side of this bend”. I respond, “Yea”.

The rode climbs out of Prescott for miles. I think of the woman who gave us half a set of good directions and realize maybe people don’t know if the road is going up or down while they are driving. Looking at the guard rails I remind myself that some people can’t even comprehend when a road is turning much rather elevation. I curse the gene pool but mostly I am only cursing the gene pond inside my body for thinking it was going to be anything other than what it is.

We climb for another hour and then descend to the Arizona flats. My left knee is started to hurt on the Jerome climb and I find positions and gears which favor less pain. Finally, I can’t find relief on even the flats and drop my bicycle into the truck and keep Bo company. Chet and Joe continue to eat miles and on a 9 mile downhill into a town called Congress, AZ we come across a skateboarder traveling at 20 mph with no armor or helmet.

He is flying down this winding road and quickly flipping the board sideways to control his speed. I think to myself this is very representative of the current markets. This guy is going to Congress on a very dangerous stretch of road with a high probability of failure and any point of failure could result in a complete loss. When we arrive in Congress, AZ and find it is a ghost town with a single gas station for all conveniences that my analogy is confirmed – you can draw the other parallel lines.

We stop for convenience store food and look onto the Arizona flats. There are several major storm clouds dumping rain on the horizon and the wind has picked up to tropical storm category 3 level. The wind is at their back and they are flying at 30+ mph. The irony is that the 30+ mph winds suck them directly into the crossing dust and rainstorm. It is nasty riding but Chet has the “day I have waited a lifetime for”. They are being dragged along beyond speeds that their gears will allow them to pedal. The dust and rain blend into chocolate and slap them from behind. Cardboard boxes are flying through the air and garbage cans rolling in circles. They cross the remainder of AZ as the early settlers did with the promise of something better in CA. Time doesn’t change fools and fools can’t change time.

And this is how the days go by.

Here is a link to the kids and cause we are riding for - http://www.lisas810.com/cause_AOR.html
With gratitude,
Chris