June 13, 2018. Eureka, MO to Pocahontas, Illinois

M82.9 miles. I took a butter knife with me to cut through the humidity as I walked out of the Rv at 7:30 a.m. to start what figured to be my last day in the saddle. Pam had a hell of a time trying to find a campground that was in my mileage range that could accept big rigs. More about that later, however.
Not very far into the ride out of Eureka, I turned north onto MO 109, and was met by a very impressive climb to start my day. It was made easier by the fact that I was pretty sure that it would be my last big climb. The only thing that was more harrowing than the climb was the descent. I was in a shoulder, about two feet wide, with a ditch on my right, and rush hour traffic, complete with triaxle trucks, blowing down the road in my left. My Garmin told me that I hit 38 mph myself. That's ok when I have an entire lane or wide shoulder, but there really wasn't much room for error, and a pothole or chunk of debris in that little shoulder, and I was in the ditch. With Buddy's wedding coming, a picture of me in a body cast leaning up against a tree in the Bisking's back yard, flashed through my brain, but all ended well.
Then the next stretch of about ten miles was on multiuse trails with nice asphalt pavement and shading tree canopies. The one trail was  not a rails to trails for sure, because it got downright steep as I made my way up to Old State Road.
The last time I rode through St Louis, I didn't really hit the best parts of town, and  thought St Louis was pretty much a hole. Well, this time, I came in through the nice suburbs. It was more or less a straight shot for about 20 miles once I got on Clayton Road, which was just mile after mile of beautiful homes, nice neighborhoods, carefully designed strip malls, and country club golf courses. Many of the trophy wives were out for a jog on the paseos (jogging trails). I did not see a single fast food place along the entire stretch, because k was getting hungry.
Once I descended into the city of St Louis, the road quality went to hell, but traffic wasn't bad, and it wasn't long before​ I was in more older, but nice neighborhoods with dedicated bike lanes. Then it was into a huge city park with bike lanes, jogging lanes, golf courses, lakes, monuments, playgrounds and lots of green space, with the tall downtown buildings in the distance. I could not see the famous arch though.
That's when things took a turn for the worse, but one I'm getting used to. I heard a POP-HISS! Flat back tire. Damn. It wasn't a slow leak this time though. The belts in the tire had blown out, and I had a major problem. That tire was not repairable. An old trick would have been to fold up a dollar bill and cover the hole on the inside, but instead I googled bike shops, and Mike's Bikes was 1.4 miles away. I walked the distance, and got a new tube and tire, are at a Subway, all very close to downtown. When I got rolling again, I was on the east side of St Louis, and once I passed St Louis University, I got into the bad section of town. Nine out if every ten buildings were in some state of abandonment and disrepair, most caving in or burned out. The streets were deserted, and the roads only got worse. I've never bounced across so many railroad tracks in my life. I had to walk across some of them. There was quite an industrial area, which led to the Mississippi River, where I picked up the McKinley Bridge bike trail, which is one of very few ways a bicycle can cross legally. The RT 66 route takes its course across the Isle of Rocks bridge, which I believe is further north. Speaking of the 66 route, I totally bailed on that trail, and just took the easiest route, which was definitely the Google maps route. It didn't even try to take me on any dirt roads or grown over pipeline trails. Once across the bridge, my route was about exactly what I did previously, except for the very end. The route mostly was on the Madison County Transit Trail System, which is a very impressive rails to trails system, with nice asphalt and a great tree canopy when it wasn't cutting through soy bean, corn, and wheat fields. I was running parallel with some busy roads but I really had no idea where I was. I was making great time, and feeling good, all the while contemplating that this was the last ride of the trip, and that Buddy was getting married. I could push on for another day or two, but I decided against it, because Illinois and Indiana are the easiest, and quite frankly, the most boring part of the trip. If I wasn't going to be able to finish it, it seemed like a good time to pull the plug. While I'm in good shape, I plan on continuing some long biking rides where ever I may be this summer.
When the bike trails ended, and I got back out onto the roads, I was really lost. There were small towns, I crossed I 70, going south when I thought I was riding north, I rode some on US 40, then on Illinois 143. I was way out in the country, in a place where there was farming, but I couldn't fathom how Pam found a campground in this area. It turns out that it was a fishing and hunting type camp with two lakes, and 99% permanent sites. There really weren't any gravel roads leading to our site. Pam had just driven through the grass, to our power pole. And I did the same, and it just seemed weird to end up in a place where I've never been, never will be again, and didn't know where I was at the time. It was sort of sad to put the Surly Ogre on the back of the Jeep, but I was ready to be done in some ways also. We were pretty close to I 70, which is a straight shot home, so we were done. We've never been parents of the groom before, so that is alot to look forward to. Let's do it.

June 12, 2018, Sullivan, MO to Euricka, MO

37.44 miles. I worked overtime yesterday, so we could have an easy day at the KOA, hit the pool, and relax before taking on downtown St Louis tommorow. RT 66 pretty much followed closely to I 44, with some side trips through small towns. It began rolling, as usual, but there was nothing serious to test my beat up legs. I took it easy, and gradually got my wheels back, especially as things leveled out. About half way through the ride, 66 descended into the Borboeuse River valley, which I had never heard of. I crossed the bridge and began a long, gentle climb out of the valley. The shoulder was really wide for 66, and the busy traffic was not an issue. The road peaked out at Gray's Summit, which would be the highest point on the trip. Then the fun started. The long downhill ended with a nice level ride through the town of Pacific. The shoulder of the road in town was not real clean, and you guessed it, flat tire number six. It was a very slow leak, and I just pumped it up and tried to go as far as I could before I needed to do it again. I pumped it up one more time, and the town of Pacific blended into the town of Eureka, after a short ride along some bluffs, similar to the ones I saw on the KATY Trail, which is a bit north of here. As soon as I saw the Eureka city limits sign, the KOA appeared, before the main part of the town. Six Flags amusement park is only a mile or two away, but I didn't even know it. Pam and I hit the pool for a few hours, during the hottest part of the day, with about ten of our closest  juvenile friends and their families.
At about five o'clock, we cleaned up a little and went into town to hit a bike shop to get a tube, and eat at a sports bar, before calling it a night. The bike tech thinks I've been getting flats because the rim trim between the metal rim and the tube was crinkled up. He worked on it, and hopefully got it straightened out.

June 11, 2018 Waynesville, MO to Sullivan, MO

80.0 miles. As I write this, I am exhausted. Today may have been the toughest 80 mile ride of my life. I was gassed at 35 miles, but I kept going. I don't know if it's cumulative fatigue, my age, or the fact that it was the hottest day of the year in this area, or the stifling humidity, but it took all that I had to finish. Pam offered to come and get me, but it was just time to man up, because I don't know if I will ever do this again. The fact that I got through today without cramping up, is testament to the 'Extreme Endurance' pills that I have taken the last couple of times I've ridden long distance. I discovered these pills at Landis bike shop in Phoenix, and they are loaded with the minerals I need to keep from cramping, and they also keep lactic acid from forming, which makes your muscles sore. That's why cumulative fatigue gets my vote as a reason I bonked. There was just no juice in the legs, especially on the hills. And, oh, what hills there were! I only climbed 3200 ft, but there were three hills where I climbed 250-500 ft in a mile, or a little more. It was epic tenderization of my quads.
Now, for the details. I was out the door at my normal 7:30 a.m. or so. I had a sweat going before I got out of the campground. It was near 75 degrees and 75 % humidity. The first six miles were pretty much downhill into Waynesville, but the first of the big climbs from downtown Waynesville to St Robert, took more of a toll than I would know. As I was leaving town, I got the fifth flat tire if the trip. I have no idea what caused my back wheel to go flat, but it set me back about a half an hour.  I was sweating so bad I had a hard time getting things together, and it wasn't yet 9 a.m. US 66 was not in the best of shape for this entire ride. There were some stretches of origional concrete in the early one third of the trip, but they weren't in the greatest shape. It felt like I hit a frost heaves or a crack every twenty feet for 80 miles. That's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. My butt only has so many positions I can sit in, and even my wrists bothered me for the first time in this trip. I stuck with the RT 66 biway signs, and even took stretch of 1926 to 1941 road that was really rough, because I wanted to find out what Devil's Elbow was. It was a bend that went around a hill with a wall holding the road up. It then descended quickly to a nice river, and an old bridge with a new surface. An old, origional stretch of four lane road, provided the second big climb of the day. It didn't look terrible, but it felt terrible. When I got to the top of the hill, old 66 was eaten up by I 44, and the 66 biway signs disappeared for the first time in Missouri. I was baffled at first, but I broke out the Adventure Cycling Assn. map for one of the few times I've had to, and the road veered quite a bit away from I 44, on RT J, to P, to T (Missouri roads often have letters instead of numbers, and they really don't  make much sense to me) RT P took me down, and rode along quite a stretch through what I believe was the Mark Twain National Forest. Huge oak and pine trees kept the road semi shaded. It was mostly flat and quiet, and I even saw a deer cross the road in front of me. It was definitely the coolest part of the ride, in both senses of the word. P took me through the small town of Newburg, and there was a pretty good climb up to the small town of Doolittle. From there I was back on 66, and the biway signs reappeared. I ran parallel with I 44 until another leg smashing climb into Rolla. At this point I stopped for lunch at an Arby's, and tried to cool off and regroup. I was only 35 miles into it, and I was running on fumes. Rolla had a nice college, Missouri S & T, which I had never heard of (Science and Technology), but it had a huge and nice πka house, which is my fraternity, and in the past I have seeked the houses out on the campuses I explored.
The last half of the trip just went on forever. There was zero wind all day, which made it seem hotter. I dreaded every uphill, and took quite a few short breaks in each small town. It really leveled out ( as much as Missouri does), but the damage was done. I limped into the Flying J parking lot, which is where we stayed, in Sullivan, nestled amount the big trucks, after 8 1/2 hours to do a measly 80 miles. What a struggle it was.

June 10, 2018 Strafford, MO to Waynesville, MO

73.81 miles. All of the bad wind days that started this trip are turning into a string of good wind days, just like they were supposed to be. The prevailing south west wind is doing its thing. Not so much blowing me across Missouri, as much as keeping me cool on what has been some hot days, and giving me just a little push. Once again , the weather was supposed to be in the middle 90's, with high humidity, and it did not fail. I rolled out at 7:30, with winds at my back and temps in the low 70,s.
The first third of the trip was headed mostly northish, it seemed, and I had plenty of shade from the tall trees on the east side of the road. The scenery was more forested, and less farm land than previous days. Small towns dotted the route every 10-15 miles, and the area was steady with residential homes along old 66. The hills were very apparent, as I climbed about 3000 ft. for the day, but the downhills seemed just a little longer than the ups. If someone rode the route that I rode today going east to west, they would have climbed 700 ft more, into a headwind. Which begs an answer to the question: " Why would anyone want to start the route 66 trip in Chicago, and go west?" When I was still riding with Ben, we came across a young guy who was headed east to west. We met him near the Oklahoma/Kansas/Missouri border, and he went on about how hilly Missouri was. Duh. If you start your trip at the Mississippi River and climb to the Great Plains, it's gonna be tougher than if you come out of the high desert, down to the Great Plains, and on down to the Mississippi, in St Louis. After you do all that climbing, headed west, you are greeted with the desert Southwest of New Mexico and Arizona, where it is 110 now, and getting hotter.  This guy we met was named Graham, and he really didn't think his trip through. Youth is so wasted on the young. But I digress.
Now, back to my trip. 66 finally was void of the damn rumble strips in the shoulder, but that's because there were no shoulders. Nor was there traffic. It was Sunday morning, but even so. As close as 66 parallels I 44, there is no reason to be on meandering 66 unless ur a local. The rumble strips were replaced by frost heaves and cracks, but they weren't terrible.  I made the larger town of Lebanon for my 50 mile marker, but did not stop for lunch, as I packed a couple of sandwiches, which I ate as I rode. I did stop to refill some water bottles and wet down my sweat band, as the heat was starting to crank.
Somewhere near the sleepy town of Sleeper, I came across two curious things at the same time. There was a sign that said "bridge closed ahead.   Three miles. There was also a biker that seemed to be debating what to do, because the 66 biway signs were putting us in to I 44. These two developments caused me to stop and chat with the guy. He was French, with very silver hair, which made him look like he was pushing 70 years old. He had a heavy duty little bike with a single wheeled trailer, and a gas motor on the bike to assist him. His grasp of our language was pretty good, but not great. As we were talking I noticed that he had two, basically flat tires. I guess he had been stopping as often as needed and pumping up his Slime filled tubes, so he didn't have to change them. As we were chatting, a pick up stopped and told us that we could cross the closed bridge on bikes, just not cars. Frenchy was happy about that because he hated the interstate, and I, who love the interstate, couldn't resist the temptation to cross a closed bridge. He insisted that I go ahead, while he pumped up his tubes, so with a fist bump, I was on my way.
Three miles later, after some wicked downhill where I hit nearly 40 mph, I came to the bridge. By the old age of some roadside signs pleading to fix the old bridge, not replace it, because of the historical value, I could tell that the bridge has been closed for a long, long time. I lifted my Surly Ogre (that would be the name of my bike) over the guardrail blocking the bridge, and as I dodged potholes, looked longingly at the clear water of the  Gasconade River flowing below, and entertained the thought of going down to it and basking in it's coolness. It was hot, but I kept my eyes on the prize, and kept moving.  The far end of the bridge was also blocked by guardrail, but the pavement had been torn up to show the same concrete surface, with the little curb, that I described riding on through a large part of Oklahoma. The history of the bridge hit me when I saw the origional pavement, so I hope they refurbish the bridge, not replace it. It will probably cost more to refurbish it than tear it down and start over again. As I was starting up the equally wicked hill on the other side of the bridge, I looked back and saw Frenchy, who had recruited someone from somewhere to help him lift his cumbersome bike and trailer over the guardrail. I figured he would catch me soon, as I muscled up the hill, but I never saw him till my trip was done ( more on that later).
The last 25 miles to my destination of Waynesville was more hills, and much of the same ol, same ol, until I rumbled down a pretty big  ( like two/three mile) hill into Waynesville. I stopped at a convenience store to turn on the GPS and see where the campground was, when Pam called at the same second I was getting my phone out. She told me that I had blown past the campground and went about five miles too far. (She can track me on a special app that we have)   It wasn't much of a decision that I wasn't going to climb back up that hill, so she came and got me (Such a great wife and support person). In the meantime I googled the nearest Dairy Queen, and it was only three miles further down the road, so we decided to get lunch.(as I was loading my bike in the Jeep, ol Frenchy came rolling by, about 20 minutes behind me I would guess. I wonder how many times he stopped to pump up his tires). It was about 2:30, so we were both hungry, but the damn DQ was shut down, as often happens in these small towns, with lots of restaurants that we might have eaten at. Fortunately, there was a Sonic right next door, so that, it was. We backtracked the eight miles to home base. The campgrounds in Missouri basically suck, and I missed ours because it's sign only faced one direction. The other way. And it was down in a hollow off the road. Pam sat outside and tried to figure out next campground, and totally struck out, so tommorow night may be spent at a truck stop. Did I mention that the campgrounds in Missouri are few and far between, and that the ones we can find, suck? Just a word to the wise, who read this blog.

June 9,2018 Carthage, MO to Strafford, MO

74.55 miles. Another early start (for me), around 7:30 a.m.  I grabbed some breakfast, and rode back to RT 66 through town, even though GPS told me that there was a shorter way. ( Yea right.....on some cow path). 66 started out wonderfully, as the first 20 miles I rode was on brand spanking new asphalt. Nice shoulder, not even line painted yet. I rode past a festival of some sort that they were just starting to set up in the town square, near the Courthouse in Carthage, and past a kids fishing tournament at a lake just outside of town. The roads rolled very gently because I climbed over 2000 ft for the day, but smooth surface and a tailwind make the hills seem smaller. I only switched down to the granny gear on the front sprocket twice. The scenery was non descript hay fields, either cut and bailed or not, corn and soybean, cattle, lots of farm houses and ranches, made of the roundish stone that must be plentiful here. There were lots of signs and billboards reminding you to fear God and fear hell. Small towns and ghost towns were the only things I saw. There was exactly one convenience store/gas station from Carthage until I hit the outskirts of Springfield, 60 miles later. Traffic picked up as the day went on, and the road gradually deteriorated as far as bicycling after those first 20 miles of fresh asphalt. The road was fine, but the shoulders got narrowed down to about two feet, and then, the rumble strips in the middle of the shoulder began. I rode out in the road and just did my best as traffic was at it's worst when I had the rumble strips. That seems to be a Missouri thing. Adventure Cycling has been working with States on that very problem, but Missouri hasn't done much. With the old 66 route coming through their state now, at least they hadn't put them in where the new asphalt was.......yet.
Springfield is a town of 160,000 people, and was very easily navigated just by following the blue,  Rt 66 biway signs. Downtown was nice, with a neat square in the middle of town, Missouri State University, and I saw the crowd arriving at the convention center for an indoor football game against the Tulsa Roughnecks. Drury University is here as well as Evangel University. I sorta get the feeling I'm in Bible thumping country. Ten miles east of Springfield, I ran parallel with I 44, past all the trucking companies that weren't working because it was the weekend, I came to the town of Strafford, where Pam was wedged into a very narrow site at the Strafford Rv Park.
Overall, the cloud cover was pretty good today, but there was a big, badass, cloud just ahead of me when I pulled into the Rv Park, but even though Pam had gotten damp a little earlier, I felt exactly two drops. I may complete this entire, shortened trip, without getting wet. Traffic was really light through town, probably because it was a Saturday, but 66 had more truck traffic than I expected on both sides of Springfield.

June 8, 2018 North Miami, OK to Carthage, Missouri

48.06 miles. Campgrounds that can handle our stegasaurus are few and far between in this area. My choices, after consulting with my trip concierge, (Pam) were 50 miles, or 100 miles. I chose 50. The wind was good, the cloud cover was apparent at times, I had the time, just not the desire. Temps were going to be in the high 90's, with heat index near 100, so I decided not to kill myself. With the realization that I'm not going to finish this trip, I've lost motivation to pound day after day. I'm good with where ever I stop, and the reason for stopping is as good as it gets, with our son getting married.
Ben and I rode out at about 8:30 after I grabbed a breakfast sandwich at the casino, and filled up all the water bottles with the type of ice that I like. ( Crushed.....it lasts longer than cubes). We were on the same road, but it seemed to have many different names. 66, 69a, among others. We passed thru the small village of Quapaw, and then it was mildly rolling  through the very Southeast corner of Kansas, and into Joplin, Missouri. Ben and I parted ways on Main Street in Joplin. He was headed north to ride the Katy Trail across the state to St Louis, and I was staying the course on old route 66. Joplin was smaller than I thought it was, but Webb City, and other towns stretched along 66 all the way to Carthage. I got onto a limited access road, for a few miles between Webb City and Carthage, but I soon tired of it, and walked my bike through some grass to get back on 66. Once I got to Carthage, I let Google maps guide me through residential areas until I found the Red Barn campground, where Pam had set up shop, near I 44. It was a short day, so I took advantage of my free time to lay around in the air conditioning and do some down time. We couldn't get the Rv door open to get the water hoses out, so Pam called a mobile Rv mechanic, and we got that operable, though not fixed. Then we ate supper at a little RT 66 diner that wasn't on 66, and Pam did some wash while I faded off to an early finish.

June 7, 2018 Catoosa (W. Tulsa) OK to North Miami, OK

87.07 miles. I woke up pretty early and went into the Hard Rock to fill my water bottles with ice, went to McDonald's and had egg McMuffin s until Ben got ready and met me to roll for the day. There was a cloud cover, which lasted all day, and a tailwind was a surprise that also lasted all day. We were barely out of town on old 66, when we picked up a local biker named Pete. He rode with us for about 8 miles, chatting up a storm about his love of bicycling, as we rode down a really nice shoulder, until he peeled of to head home. The nice shoulder stayed with us for just about the entire trip. We were making great time, ( I was gabbing to Ben the entire way...don't know what got into me), and rolled into the town of Vinita, at about the fifty mile marker, in about four hours. We stopped at a store to have lunch, and several cowboy/farmer types were checking us out like we were Martians. They wouldn't make eye contact, let alone speak, but you could tell that they felt we were very unusual types. We probably are in this area, Oklahoma is just a little different when it comes to bicyclists. Earlier we had one pick up truck slow down for us, even though we were on the shoulder, he put on his flashers, passed us slowly, turned his flashers off when he got past us, then resumed his regular speed. And we were on an eight foot wide shoulder! Pretty funny. They just don't have much of a clue as to what to do with us!
We had a storm trailing us for most of the day that dumped four inches of rain in OKC, and had cars floating down the streets, but it went south of us, and we got nothing but the welcomed cloud cover. We passed through many little towns that brought back memories of my last ride through the area. We ended up at the Quapaw ( pronounced  O gah Pa) Casino, which was just north of Miami, where we have stayed a couple of times (in town). Pam found it in her casino camping book. FREE pull through sites with 50 amp power and water, for as long as three days. Ben was allowed to set up his tent in the grass right next to us. There are several small casinos in the area, each belonging to a different tribe. At the Buffalo Run casino, three miles back towards town, I noticed the sign advertised that Grand Funk Railroad was playing.... Tonight! I jumped on that right away. Plans changed. Pam had been cooking supper, but we cancelled that until after the show. I don't how how much Ben knew about GFR, but he went with us. It was worth every penny, as thoroughly enjoyed seeing a band that still sounded great, but are probably near the end of the road. Yesterday, at the Hard Rock, we missed the Charlie Daniels band and Marshall Tucker by a day. We considered hanging around, but the show was sold out. After the show, it was still light outside! We came home, had our supper, and called it a night. Life is not worth living if you can't be spontaneous!

June 6, 2018 Chandler, OK to Tulsa, OK

79.88 miles. I walked out the door at 7:30 in the morning, only to be greeted by some heavy humidity. It did not relent all day long. Temps started in the seventies and we're still in the nineties at nine o'clock at night. Historic US 66 ran conjointly with OK 66, but they are not the same. OK 66 was a straightened out, wider version of the old road, with nice wide shoulders in most spots. Therefore, the feel was a little different today than previously. I'm not complaining, but OK 66 is a much busier road than the old 66 I've been on. It is a main thoroughfare for locals, because the interstate that Pam was on today, I 44, is a toll road. Old 66 was apparent in many places, as a residential road, and through the towns. It started and stopped with dead ends in many places, and if I wasn't looking for it, it may have gone unnoticed.
The ride was pretty uneventful for the first half of the trip. About 42 miles into the ride, I came across Ben, who I rode with yesterday some, in a convenience store. I stopped for water, and  saw his bike parked out front. I filled up and rolled out ahead of him, but we discussed routes, and I invited him to meet at the Hard Rock Casino, and set up his teant next to the Rv.
About ten miles later, in the town of Sapulpa, I pulled into I little town park on the corner, with, shade, tables and chairs, and ate a sandwich I had packed. I was about 50 miles into the ride, and just getting into the suburbs of Tulsa.  Somewhere near that town I believe, Ben went in a different direction, where old 66 and OK 66 split. I missed it, and that was ok, because I really didn't want to go out that way. Ben said it was mostly country riding, with not much traffic and decent road.  OK66 was rolling  along just fine, as a frontage road to I 44, then, the toll road portion of 44 ended, and my frontage road merged right onto 44. So, unsuspectingly, I was suddenly on I 44 headed to downtown Tulsa. I was totally good with that, but I knew I better not press my luck. I rode a few miles and got off an exit to turn on my GPS, to see what I needed to do. It turns out that I got off just before the interstate crossed the Arkansas River, which is a really wide river, just not very deep and not navigable. I rode a nice Riverside bike trail system for 5-7 miles to get to a bridge that bikes could cross. It was nice, with shade trees and rest areas. Once crossing the river, I got in more bike trails, heading north towards downtown. At some point I turned to the east, and went right past the University of Tulsa, which I explored by bike last time I rode through. It was too hot to revisit, so I continued my gradual climb from the Arkansas River. About ten miles further east, I finally saw the big guitar and tower with ' Hard Rock' written on it. Pam was in the casino winning money when I pulled in. She came over to the Rv, I took a shower, and we went back to the casino for the buffett, drinks, and Pam won more money. When we got back to the Rv, Ben's tent was set up in the grass behind us, but he wasn't there. We finally hooked up and talked a little about the differences in our route today, and possibilities for tommorow. We ran the generator all night so we had AC in the back bedroom. It was still an oven in the front when we called it a night.

June 5, 2018 western OKC ( Yukon) to Chandler, Oklahoma

63.25 miles. When I got up this morning, my bike was a little wet, bringing back memories of the thunderclap that about gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night. It was accompanied by about a tenth of an inch of rain. But we really didn't get to see or feel it. I was gone at about eight a.m., headed for the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial. It's a terroristic event that is often forgotten. I rode along the Reno Ave, that I started on as a gravel road yesterday, and turned into a major artery right into downtown OKC. I took a few residential streets close to downtown, onto Fourth street, and boom, I was there. I walked up some stairs  to an elevated park first, and didn't see the real memorial, until I looked over a rail on the opposite side of the park. The two huge walls with "9:03", ( the time of the explosion) engraved on it, the reflection pool, and the chairlike monuments with each victim's name engraved, where down below, on street level. As I walked back down and around the bend, I saw the makeshift memorial wall along a fence where many flowers and keepsakes were still apparent. There were a few tours going on, and a museum, but there was no time for that on this day. It was somber, and very quiet, quite memorable.
The side trip kept me from getting back on US66, which is more north of the city. I had to trust my GPS to get me back on track, and that trust has been broken once too many times, but I went with it. Just as that GPS is capable of getting me into some real messy situations, it is also capable of discovering some trophy rides. Today, for the most part, was a trophy ride. The weather was warm but beautiful ( the humidity is building every day), and the ride back to 66 was great.  It was always in the back of my mind that I was going to end up in a cow path somewhere, but that seed of doubt never came to fruition. The ride out of town was on a calm road, to a nice bicycle trail (Katy Trail) along some train tracks, to a frontage road along I 35, and then out into a rolling, green, country side with beautiful homes and a few golf courses. As I left the suburbs, I went through small towns (Spencer, Jones) that weren't on my map at all. Large enough to have a Sonic and a Dollar General, small enough that there wasn't much else. The final five miles or so was a little sketchier than it could have been, but overall a nice trail back to US66. The final twenty or so miles were on a stretch of 66 that did a pretty nice job of running a ridgeline, so there wasn't any crazy climbs, and just enough side breeze to keep a cooling effect going. I pulled into a Phillips 66 station in the small town of Williston, and filled up a couple of water bottles. I noticed another biker that we had noticed off and on in a couple places over the last week or so. We saw him in Elk City on my day that I got the bike fixed, and Pam saw him another day, a few miles ahead of me. We struck up a conversation as we rode my last twelve miles together, and I brought him to the Rv and gave him, a water refill, a bottle of Gatorade, and a can of Chef Boy R See beef ravioli. He was a 22 year old kid named Ben that started in California and was headed to Wisconsin. It was his first tour, and he was on an old (even by my standards) Schwinn that he bought on eBay. He had no Garmin, just an ACA map and his phone. He was working in film production and wanted to be a writer. He said his lease in LA ran out, and with some encouragement from his family, decided to ride off into the sunrise( he is headed east) for a while. He reminded Pam and I of a friend and former student, Andy Ruether. After a short visit, he was on his way to ride off to the next town, Stroud, or maybe further. Our campground was actually wooded, with many oak trees. Another sign that we are getting more east, is that I found poison ivy for the first time. Big ride to Tulsa and beyond tomorrow, over 80 miles or so.

June 4, 2018 Weatherford, OK to western Oklahoma City

59.45 miles. I walked out the door this morning to cool temps, cloudy, skies a mild south wind, and just perfect conditions. I hooked up with US66  on Weatherford's East Main Street, and didn't get off it until the last few miles of the ride. The narrow, concrete, traffic free road, carried away from I-40, usually a half mile to a mile and a half, so I could most always see or hear the traffic, but I was away far enough to have some peaceful riding. I saw tons of the Oklahoma State bird, the scissor tailed flycatcher, my first Robin of the season, a roadrunner, two huge hawks, and a normal contingent of rabbits and dead coyotes and armidillos. The topography was pleasingly rolling, even though it rolled and turned way more than I 40, as was also previously true. I could hear the wind rustling in the leaves of the trees (I'm so happy to have trees). There was water in every run, even though the farm ponds seem to be a foot or two low. This area, like every place I've ridden since Phoenix, is in drought condition. It's going to be a rough year in the west and south. RT 66 was lined with flowery weeds in various stages of bloom, and tons of Indian blanket flowers. They are the exact same blanket flowers as you get on the Outer Banks, only they are way more plentiful here, and they added the name ' Indian ' here.  Wheat is the prevalent crop, as amber waves of grain sometimes spread as far as I could see.
The first twenty miles were gently rolling, as I mentioned before, but after a mild descent into the Southern Canadian River valley, I crossed an old RT66 bridge, built in 1932, that was about a half mile long, and then a relatively stunning climb, that I wasn't expecting. I climbed about 175 ft in 3/4 if a mile, which is pretty steep, went down a hill to US 281, which ran conjointly with 66, and had to climb just as much again, even though it wasn't as steep. I had a total of about ten miles in there that had some serious hills. Then, as I got closer to El Reno, things calmed down again. RT66 ran conjointly through town with business 40.
Pam and I never hooked up because I was not that near the interstate, so I ate a sandwich that I had packed, as I rode. The closer I get to OKC, as you might expect, the worse traffic got. 66 became a thoroughfare for oil and gas trucks, replacing the farming implements that had been passing me further out.
I decided that i had better get off of 66 before I had the " grill of an eighteen wheeler" moment of which I have often spoken. Thats when the GPS, which I really no longer trust at all, started to take me pretty far out of the way. I just knew I was going to end up in a dirt road, and I'll be damn if  didn't. I was on the southern edge of town, and when I turned into the dirt road, the GPS said I only had to stay on it for six miles, and I'd be at the campground. I was really cussing, but fortunately, after two miles, pavement appeared. A mile or so later, the pavement improved significantly, and in another mile or so, I was passing beautiful new homes, and soon thereafter I was in the thick of town, and just a 1/4 mile from the campground. So, as it turns out, it wasn't that bad afterall. I had time to hit the campground pool for an hour while Pam was getting her nails done ( yep, it's true), and then we walked a half mile or so to Mama Moe's pizza, and feasted. I was pretty wooped for some reason, so I hit the hay pretty early.

June 3,2018 Sayre, OK to Weatherford, OK

65 miles. They should call the Mother Road (US66), the Meandering Road. I followed 66 for the entire length of today's ride, and even though it very nearly parallels I 40, except where it goes into the main street of towns, it's all over the place, compared to the more modern Interstate. The interstate is mildly rolling through this area, but 66 was way more up and down. I climbed about 2000 ft today, and I bet it would have been half of that if I was riding I 40. One nice thing about 66 however, is that most of it was concrete, not chip seal like in Texas. It made for nice pedaling. The original parts of the road were not only narrow, but each side had a little curb like edge, which I think would keep water from draining off during rain.
Other random observations include: the runs are not washes any more. They actually have water in them. The grass is also green, and the main crop seams to be wheat. Of course, there are lots of cows, but not in the cow pens like in Texas. All these things began to change at the state line. Nothing against Texas or New Mexico, but things have definitely changed for the better. Now, we watch for storms that could include tornadoes.
The wind was supposed to be more of a factor today than it was. I had a headwind all day, and I adjusted my attitude about it, and just dealt with it. It really wasn't bad, but it did slow my pace.
When I left Sayre, it was about 15 miles and I was in Elk City, another 5 and I was in Canute,  20 more and I was in Clinton, 20 more and I was in Weatherton. The towns are becoming closer together and more populous as we get closer to Oklahoma City and then Tulsa. I really think I have the tough part of this trip in the bag. Now I need the cooperation of the wind, the storms, and my bike ( mechanically) .

June 2, 2018 Cancelled due to weather and broken bike!

With the wind forcasted to be 25-45 mph headwind, we decided to batten down and enjoy a day off. I don't think the wind ever reached those 35-45 mph number, but it was still blowing, and it would not have been fun. Plus, have a pretty good sunburn on my arms and lips that I'm trying to keep under control. Windburn wouldn't help.  I think I slept ten hours, and Pam woke me up to call a bike shop in Elk City, 15 miles northeast( into the wind). I got Jeff, at Garage Bicycle Works, named because he literally is working out of the garage of his home while he builds a shop near a bike trail near his home. We drove the bike up to him on the back of the Jeep, and he was very helpful in getting an axle  ( that wasn't bent) for my back wheel, getting the proper shims that were missing from the axle assembly, and straightening the bent brake shoes holder. He had the proper Park tools to straighten things out and seemed more than happy to do so. and, he only wanted five dollars as payment. U gotta be kidding! I gave him a $20 and a handshake. So he gave me two really cool Southwest Oklahoma Bike Club t shirts. It turns out that his day job is in the gas industry, and he has worked in Barnsville, Ohio, and biked in Wheeling. Small world.
While we were in town we visited the Rt66 Museum that was in town, and went shopping at Walmart for groceries and other Walmart things. I really liked the town overall, as it was clean, modern, and friendly.
On another note, I forgot to mention another bike shop I stopped into in Tucumcari, New Mexico. I needed a tire put on a rim, and I couldn't do it because of my wrists. He did it for free, and gave me, once again for free, a valve extender because the valve stem in some tubes aren't long enough for the rim design I have in my front wheel. Just another nice guy that likes helping people, and makes his real money at another job. He owned the B-Digitty bike shop right on RT 66...I definitely wanted to give him a shout-out also. I do meet some really good people on these adventures.

June 1, 2018 Alanreed, TX to Sayre, OK

67.53 miles....I was on the road at 7:15, trying to beat what will be record setting heat in this area. Somewhere around 104-107. There was actually dew on my bike and the Rv. It's been a long time since I've experienced that! The temps where in the low 70's, and the wind was cool for the first hour, and I was making really good time, because the stiff southernly breeze was pushing me in the back, ever so slightly. The shoulders on I 40 continued to be really nice, and US66 was still just to my right. I actually was on 66 for three or four miles through 'downtown' Alanreed. Let's just say it was very rural, with plackard's on the abandoned buildings that were relevant to old 66.
I was twelve miles into a nice ride when the wheels came off. Literally. It started with my fourth flat of the trip, for no obvious reason. I changed that out with relative ease and was on my way. Less than a mile up the road, something broke in my back tire ( either a brake pad or the rear wheel axle. The back wheel popped off, was locked up by a brake arm that stuck between the spokes, and it brought me to a skidding , abrupt halt. Fortunately, I got my right foot unclipped and saved what could have been a real disaster. At that point, I was ready to pronounce this trip as dead. I called Pam, told her to come and get me, and bring some tools. I mean, I WAS DONE. Somehow I composed myself, rigged up my back axle, which is still very loose. I'm not sure if it will stay together till I find a bike shop or not. I took off one brake pad, so I am riding with no back brakes. The arm which holds the pad is totally bent. I decided to try to ride a little longer, and see if the axle would hold. It did. So did the wind, but it remained more of a help than a hinderence.
Pam was fantastic throughout all this. Running to my rescue, and playing leapfrog with me just in case anything failed, for the rest of the ride. It was also nice to have a nice, cold, soaking wet shirt to put on every 15-20 miles. I think the little breaks, and the wet shirts helped me beat the hellatious heat. When I finished I really felt pretty good, leg wise, and heat effect wise. Pam is a lifesaver. I would be up sh$t Creek if I was doing this trip solo, like the last two.
I didn't make it to my goal city, because of the breakdown, but I've still done about 250 miles in three days. Now, tommorow is forcasted for the wind to change to the north, on the day we are making the turn to head more north. And better yet, it's supposed to be steady at 30mph, gusting to 40. I don't want to ride into a headwind like that, and Pam has concerns driving the Rv into that, so it looks like we sit for a day. I've researched bike shops in the area, so I may throw the bike on the back of the Jeep, and see what I can do about patching it up.
After getting a cool shower, we headed through town, and found a Denny's at the Flying J truck stop for a t bone, eggs and hash browns....and a milkshake. Now to sleep, and see if the forcasted rain hits us.

May 31,2018 West Amarillo, TX to Alanreed, TX

77.12 miles. One thing that I didn't mention...up until yesterday, every place I've ridden, I have done before. Last time I left Tucumcari, I took US54. This time, leaving on I 40/US 66, Im on roads that I have driven, but never ridden.
After my century into the wind yesterday, I wasn't sure how much would be in the tank for today. Turns out, that after sleeping in until 8, I felt pretty good. I was in the saddle by nine, enjoying a neutral wind and semi cool temps. In the first couple of minutes, I went right past Amarillo's famous Cadillac ranch, with the seven Cadillacs planted in the middle of a corn field. I sort of roamed through Amarillo, choosing my own path, and ignoring any GPS recommendation, and for some reason, I didn't get on business I 40/US66. I am following old route 66 in theory, but I really spend very little time on the actual road itself. The surface is usually inferior to the interstate, and most of the time, j can just look right over and see 66. That counts, doesn't it? Also, many times 66, in the form of a frontage road just dead ends, so it would be tricky to try to be on it always. Since I've been in Texas, there are no guardrails or fences between the roads, so it is easier to switch if I wanted to. Many times today, I got off and on from one road to the other because I want to be on the best surface. That Texas chip seal is just brutal, unless it is worn down, and there were some places where the I-40 shoulder was new chip seal, and 66 was more worn, therefore less bumpy.
After bouncing around Amarillo, including riding right through the downtown area, I headed back to the I 40 frontage road that headed out of town. Even that got tricky when I 40 decided to do a flyover to the left, and the frontage road followed US 387, I believe, which goes south to Fort Worth. Once out of town, I was again in an area that is flatter than flat, and the wind turbines were my constant companion. Pam and I planned to meet for lunch at a Loves truck stop about 40 miles into the ride, but I was delayed by my third flat tire, five miles before we met. That flat tire stuff is getting old. This time a valve split on a thornproof tube, inside a brand new tire on the back. I had some aggravation getting the wheel back on, so I killed a half an hour under an overpass, so at least I had shade.
After lunch at Subway, it was really getting warm, the wind wasn't doing me any favors, and it was just flat and straight. With about twelve miles to go to get to Alanreed, things started to roll, and the road did alot of turning to work around gullies, and we worked some hills that seemed pretty tough, but as much as anything, I was getting tired. Alanreed is on a hill, higher than any other point I can see, so hopefully tommorow we'll be going downhill some, and hopefully the wind will fully cooperate.
One other thing happened of note. Right as I was pulling into the campground, a big Rv pulled right up behind me and blasted the horn, and wouldn't go around me. I had no shoulder, there was no traffic. The guy is just an asshole, and he just happened to be in the site next to us. He wouldn't come out of his Rv, even though I signalled for him when we made eye contact. Hopefully I'll see him in the morning.

May 30, 2018 Tucumcari, NM to Oasis RV resort, just west of Amarillo, Texas.

101.2 miles. I was so anxious to get going, that I was up at 5:30 a.m., and in the saddle at 6. There were several reasons for the early start. I wanted to ride before the heat of the day, there was going to be a headwind, and I was going to lose an hour at the Texas state line, when we cross into the Central Time zone.
Do you know what is harder than doing 100 miles in seven hours? Doing 100 miles in 10 hours. The wind was blowing the correct direction for the last four days, while I was grounded, but today it shifted and blew out of the east. When I started so early, it was 57 degrees, and the wind was mild, but it was still a headwind. As the day went on, the heat turned up, as did the wind.  After 52 miles, Pam met me at a rest area for lunch and a good soak down. I was still feeling pretty good at that point.  I had just entered Texas, after 550 miles, just in the state of New Mexico. I was worried about the quality of the road in Texas because they are famous for that huge chip seal that rattles my butt and slows me down, but there was no need to worry. I was on interstate 40, for the entire trip, and the shoulder was really good in New Mexico, but it was excellent in Texas. The shoulder was new concrete almost all the way to our destination.
After leaving Pam and my lunch break,  I had my most significant climb, up to a mesa that contains a huge wind farm. The Wildorado wind farm was to my north for almost 40 miles, and contains 161 wind turbines, according to Wikipedia. And the wind was blowing, right in my face. A very gradual descent didn't help much, and that stretch really beat me up. I was pretty happy to pull into the Rv Park, after a full day.

May 26-29 A staycation in Tucumcari

Tucumcari, New Mexico sounds as exotic as Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, doesn't it? Well, it's not. We spent a month there over memorial day weekend. It was high school graduation weekend there, so our diesel mechanic, who came very highly recommended, shut down the shop for three days so he could attend his grandson's ceremony, party, and who knows what else. We tried to make the best of it, and Pam tried to pacify the caged animal ( me), but there is just not much going on in town. I did maintenance that was needed on the bike, we took walks, we ate at some good restaurants, we went to Ute Lake two times, ( one to check it out, once to swim and sunbathe). We even went to a museum. I paced alot.
We took the Rv in first thing Tuesday morning, and they worked on it all day, updating the computer with like 37 updates (since 2009), regenerating a filter ( don't ask), changing out some actuators, changing the air filter, replacing a cap of some sort,etc. Finally, our stay in Tucumcari could come to an end, and it looks more and more like I will not be able to make the entire ride to Pennsylvania, because of time constraints. But, I am ok with that.

May 25, 2018 Santa Rosa NM to Tucumcari, NM

58.95 miles. This was my thirteenth day of riding in a row, and we've gone 768.07 miles. That is an average of 59.08 miles a day, including that day where I only did eleven miles because of a dehydration problem. The heat is cranking up a bit, and it was a warm start out of Santa Rosa. My mileage was determined by the fact that there is really only one town between Santa Rosa and almost Amarillo, Texas, and that is the historical US66 town of Tucumcari.
My ride was once again all on interstate 40. There were several areas of old 66 that I could have ridden on, mostly in the form of frontage roads, that were not my preferred riding surface. Many were chip seal, which is really rough to ride on. I preferred the decent shoulders of the limited access highway, even though it was pretty dirty on this stretch, and I spent way to much time watching for road gators instead of watching the scenery, especially since I've had two flats in recent days. The mountains were beautifully different here, with lots of red rocks and soil mixed with the layers of limestone and sandstone. I saw four more pronghorns as I started out of Santa Rosa, ( Pam and I saw two skunks as we were walking around Tucumcari, also). Pam stopped about halfway through my ride as she passed me so I could grab some lunch, then the trouble started. Everything was fine with me, but the Rv started giving Pam a hard time, losing power as she drove. She limped into Tucumcari ahead of me, found a diesel mechanic, and began the process that is going to keep us stuck in this town for at least four days, maybe five. The Memorial Day weekend is shutting the garage down for three days, then a day or two ( probably more!) for repair work to the engine and associated parts.
The option was for me to go ahead alone, while Pam hangs back, but I'm not going to do that, for a couple of reasons. I don't want to leave the little woman here alone, and to a lesser degree, it's gonna be about 100 degrees around here for a few days, and services are so spread out between here and all through Texas, that I just don't want to do it alone. It has been nice having her around to make sure I get breaks, and carry all my gear. She is doing her best support, and making it possible that this old geezer gets where I'm going. I've crossed the country solo two times, and I'm done with that. I hate making consessions to age, but I enjoy doing this as a team.
After finally getting the Rv parked at the Cactus Rv Park in beautiful downtown Tucumcari, went for a walk and found a great restaurant ( Del's), and walked around town a little looking at the Rt 66 stuff. ( Mostly deteriorated buildings!) Old neon signs, antique dealers, plaques, painted murals, etc.

May 24, 2018 Edgewood, NM to Santa Rosa, NM

90.25 miles. Another milestone for this trip. It was a great day to get some big mileage, because I was coming out of the mountains with a tailwind. I looked at my blog post from April, 2015, the last time I did this ride, and it was very descriptive with lots of pictures. I climbed over 2000 ft, but descended over 4000 ft, so there was a lot of high speed bike travel! I flew downhill out of Edgewood, through Moriarity, a trip of about ten miles, then spent the next 20 miles with rolling climbers, until I got to Cline's Corner, NM. At that point I was surprised to see that I was over 7000 ft, higher even than I was as I peaked the top of the mountains east of Albuquerque yesterday. The entire trip today was on I 40, which was again a smooth ride. I'm really gonna miss New Mexico road when I go into Texas, here, in a couple of days. Pam met me at Cline's Corner for lunch at a Subway. Then it was off for the middle third of my trip, as I had planned to meet Pam at a rest area, 30 some miles down the road. As my good luck would have it, ( I mean that sarcastically, as well as for real) I had my second front tire flat of the trip. There were some sections that were pretty dirty with blowout shrapnel, so I'm not surprised I'm picking up the steel belts that are causing these flats. When I am traveling at higher speeds, it is harder to miss the crap that is lying in the shoulder. Today, I was clocking over 30 mph, at least 6-8 times as I rolled down the downslopes of I 40. The flat was only two miles before the rest area, so I changed out the tube, and proceeded to switch wheels in the rest area, where pam, my SAG wagon was waiting. I had prepared a separate front and rear wheel before I left Mesa, strictly for this reason. I didn't start the trip on new tires, so I knew their day would come, where they would be worn out, pretty early in the trip. Now, I have a new front tire and wheel rolling, but my back tire is looking pretty lean. I'll run it too the threads though, because that's what I do.
The final one third of my trip was an uneventful coast into the town of Santa Rosa. The highlight of my day was seeing eight pronghorn sheep, although not all at once. I would see one or two at a time out on the prairie, as I rode. The scenery has changed, as we are no longer in the desert Southwest. The high prairie offers pinion pines, sort of like juniper in appearance, and a cactus similar to Cholla chain cactus. There were some grazing cattle, and the rare pronghorn spotting, but not much else. As I got into Santa Rosa, I turned sort of South, and got a powerful taste of the wind that had been at my back all day. I crossed the Pecos River in town, which had water in it ( only the second river that was wet since I've started). Then there was a pretty steep climb out of Santa Rosa, to the Santa Rosa campground, where we stayed. We had a meal at the dirty, little restaurant at the campground, and chilled the evening away. I really should have been doing some work on the bike, because my handlebar grips are wearing out ( an easy fix), and I need to permanently repair the tire that isn't permanently fixed yet. Also my biking gloves are going to desentigrate ( I got zero help from my spellcheck on that one!). Ok have a few extra pair, but I'll wear the old ones till they fall off my hands, because that is what I do best.

May 23, 2018 Isleta Casino to Edgewood, NM

43.76 miles. Climbing out of Albuquerque is a challenge, even in a car sometimes. The casino sat at about 5000 ft of elevation, which is as high as we've been, but to get over the mountains to the east, the climb is to over 7000 ft.
I got a late start to the day, rolling out at about 10 o'clock, knowing that I was only going to do a little over 40 miles. Ahh, but what miles they would be. I had to go about 15 miles due north to get into Albuquerque, and that was in residential roads and some nice bike trails. Eventually I hooked up with Central Ave, which is historic RT 66. Basically, once u get east of town, it parallels I 40. The trip from downtown, right by the Rio Grande, started to climb instantly, once I turned east. My legs were having a little hangover from yesterday's antics, but I also remember how heavy they felt last time I had to get acclimated to elevation. So, I'm gonna blame the dead legs on the elevation. Yea, elevation. US 66 is now officially known as NM333 in these parts. It is a beautiful road along I 40, sometimes higher, sometimes lower than the interstate, but it's climbing the same mountains. The shoulder is great, and the bicycle traffic is pretty busy. The crazy thing I noticed was the optical illusion that I was going uphill, when it looked like I was going downhill. It happened several times, but all I had to do was ask my quads, and there was no doubt I was going uphill, no matter what it looked like. The miles went by very slowly going up that 14 mile hill, but my elevation gauge was dancing on my Garmin, so I watched that instead of my speedometer. The total climb for the day was over 2600 ft, but it's not the same climbing to 7000+ ft as it is climbing to 2200 ft in Phoenix. The scenery was so beautiful, and the weather so wonderful ( cool, tailwind), that it was an easy climb, considering that it was so hard. Think about that for a while. My belief that I would rather climb a mountain all day than fight a headwind all day was once again, undeniably confirmed.
I got to the campground in Edgewood, NM, "Where the mountains meet the prairie", before Pam did. We've been having some TV trouble, so she took the Rv to a place to have the satellite dish, and controls looked at. I checked us in, and I am typing this as she is getting ready to fight Albuquerque rush hour, hopefully to get here before the temperature gets down in the forties, where it's going tonight at this elevation. I haven't felt that for a long time!

May22, 2018 Socorro, NM to Isleta Pueblo, NM

72.6 miles. Let me just start by saying that if your not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space. I could be sitting in my nice, comfortable rocking chair, in our retirement resort, but I am not. The kind of crap that happened to me today, can not be made up. It was the kind of problematic, uncomfortable, day that I'm getting to old for. Well, maybe. Pam jokes that some day she will have to send the authorities out to find me, because I will just be out there, wandering, somewhere. Today was almost the day. I was really happy to finally be at the Rv, which I made at  about 7: 30, p.m.  Fortunately,  Pam had a better day, finding the Isleta Casino Rv campground, and visiting the casino, and just wondering where in the hell I was.
The morning started out late because I needed to sleep in, and the origional plan was for an easy, 70 mile day, on nice roads, with a rocking tailwind. I turned on my GPS, and headed out through downtown Socorro, following directions through some neighborhood areas, then out a dirt road along a canal. I know better than to ever go on one of the dirt roads on Google maps, but I did it. The road was a little sandy, but generally not bad. Then, I began to climb. I should have pulled the plug right there, but I didn't. I may be a hardhead, and it really got me into trouble today. The climb turned so steep, and so washboard, that I had to walk the bike. After a few miles of riding/walking a washboard ridge, the road actually got better. I went down a rough hill, then started across a nice plateau, not having any idea where I was going. Now, remember, I've done this trip before, And there was none of this, but i blindly carried on. At some point the GPS told me to take a right, but there was no road to the right. Just, prairie. The GPS must have been following a long gone pipeline road that had grown over. This was the first real indication that I was now screwed. I continued to follow the road that the GPS didn't want me to, it tried to recalculate, but came up empty. Did I say screwed, yet? I followed the road until I came to a gate, (with GPS turned off.) On the other side of the gate was a mine, up in the rock, which looked to be abandoned. There were warning and keep out signs everywhere. So, I lifted my bike over the gate, and kept going, still not having a freaking clue where I was going, but, hey, there was only one road, so why not follow it. Once over the gate, the road conditions deteriorated significantly. It narrowed way down, and got alot sandier, too much so to ride very well. About a mile later, I came to another gate. It said keep out, and that it was some sort of off limits wildlife sanctuary. So, I lifted my bike over the gate, and climbed over myself. I had this great feeling of impending doom, but what the hell. I wasn't turning back now. I began to walk more and more, because of the loose consistency of the soil. I was seeing alot of animal tracks, and big, fresh piles of crap, so I'm thinking elk. Unfortunately, I saw no wildlife besides vultures and lizards. I began to descend, and the road really seemed to be going nowhere. I tried my GPS again, and it actually gave me a route, until it told me to take a right again, where there was no road. So, I shut it off. By now about three hours had passed, I was walking only, pushing my bike through dry quicksand, running out of water, and beginning to think about 911. The road seemed to be heading to a narrow gap between two buttes, or bluffs, or just jagged mountains. There was lush green trees, so I figured that it was the Rio Grande. If i could just get to the river I would be easier to find. I followed the ever disappearing and overgrown track of sandy road, down to the river bed, where it opened into a huge open area like a beach. I looked ahead, and damn if there wasn't a dam, across the river. It's been about four hours now, it's hot, and I need a miracle, or I'm dialing 911. I really felt defeated, with no way out. When I got to the dam and looked on the other side, there were three fishermen. What a huge relief, but I was on the wrong side of the river. There was a track across the dam, and an ore car, so it all made sense now. The road I followed was how the they got the ore out of the mine, and across the river. Unfortunately, on the other side of the dam was a six foot gate with razor wire on top. I called to the fishermen, and two of them got a hold of my bike as I lifted it over my head, and mostly over the razor wire. We had to finesse it a little, as the wire was catching on pedals, brake cables, water bottle holders, etc. But we did it. Now, I had to find a way to get over there. Wasn't going to happen. I walked back across the dam, and down into the riverbed. I had to wade through four separate streams, about four feet deep each, with very muddy bottoms, and debris piled up between
each channel. My biking shoes, with metal bottoms were not the ideal attire. The water actually felt good because I was pretty hot, and tired of pushing a bike through sand for miles. Luck had it that the fishermen told me I was only a mile or two from I 25. Five hours had now passed, and when I got to the interstate, I was only 17 miles from Socorro, where I started. I still had over 50 miles to go and it was three p.m.  I pedaled for about 12 miles before I came to a rest area, where I really bugared up the primitive men's room by washing off my mud caked bike shoes and feet in the sink. I chugged well water and refilled my bottles, and was genuinely happy that I had survived that ordeal without having to be rescued. As I came out of the restroom, a guy started up a conversation about my bike, and offered to ride me up the road about fifteen miles to the next town. I would like to think, that a normal man would have taken that offer. But I'm not normal. I declined his offer, hopped on the bike and started pedaling. The tailwind was still cranking, and I was making really good time, when I saw the exit that I got off of last trip. So my mistake was not getting back on the interstate in Socorro, and riding for a while. But the friggin GPS wouldn't tell me that, and I had failed to read my previous trips' blog so I knew what was going on. That was probably my biggest mistake, before ever walking out the door. Not aborting as soon as I saw a dirt road was my next biggest mistake. Battling through it, all reason be damned, was my third mistake, but hey, that's why I'm not sitting in a rocking chair, isn't it?
I did not get off the interstate when I should have, because I wanted to make up time, and I was rewarded for that by getting my first flat tire of the trip. So I plopped down on the shoulder, and changed out my front tire. I couldn't find the offending thorn, of nail, or whatever, so that was a bit worrisome as I pumped up the tire with a new pump I just bought with this exact predicament in mind. Best $30 I ever spent. I stayed on the interstate until the town of Belen, where I got onto NM 314, A downright beautiful, newly paved four lane, with a wide shoulder. Just like riding the interstate, only right through town. I stopped at a McDonald's and filled three bottles with Powerade, for a buck, and downed a hamburger. I still had 22 miles to go, and it was 5 p.m. The wind was still cranking and it blew me down the road until I came to the Isleta Indian reservation, and I took some tribal roads through the Pueblo, complete with hogans and all. Overall, the tribe seemed very modern and well off, compared to most reservations I've been on. I crossed the Rio Grande (over a bridge this time), as I left the Pueblo, and headed up NM47 for about five miles, and finally completed my journey. Pam had already eaten, and fed the slots, so we walked around a beautiful lake at the campground as I decompressed. Pam thought the whole nerve-wracking adventure was humorous, and showed little sympathy.....but I didn't want any. I just wanted a shower and a beer.

May 21, 2018 Lake Caballo, NM to Socorro, NM

87.33 miles..... TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES..... More about that later....I rolled out of our little $20 campground at 8 a.m. sharp, headed north towards Truth or Consequences, NM, on NM 187. It hasn't changed since last time I rolled through here, plenty of rolling hills. It took me about 16 miles to get through town, with beautiful weather, and a gentle tailwind. I grabbed a quick breakfast at McDonald's on the north end of town, and jumped on NM 181, which would take me about another eleven miles, past the airport, on a nice, traffic free road with more of the same rolling hills. Nice riding, actually.
TRUTH: I was concerned about this ride, because I rode as far as I have on any given day in two years, yesterday, and I was going to have to go farther today. The tailwind, and the 'cool' weather, in the 80"s, was really sweet, and my legs felt pretty good. I'm starting to get my confidence back, but today will tell me alot. Just north of the airport, I got on to interstate 25, because a bridge has been out on NM 181, since the last time I was here. It's never gonna be fixed, so I 25 it is. I got on at mile marker 89, where it is legal for bikes to enter . Besides the normal interstate fare, there are some major hills on this stretch, dipping down into the huge washes headed for the Rio Grande, and climbing back out the other side. Traffic is pretty sparse, compared to I 10. Constants for the trip, are the Rio Grande meandering down in the valley to my east, and huge mountains to the west, which for the second time in two trips, harbored some great thunderstorms that I could watch, way off in the distance. There is little to no civilization on this stretch, so Pam waited for me in a rest area at the 114 mile marker, 50 miles into the ride, so I could get some lunch. That rest area, and a small truck stop off the exit, are the only signs of human habitation, all the way to Socorro, which is why I knew that this was going to be a long one.
CONSEQUENCES:  Everything was going fine, up until this point, and even for another 15 miles or so. There were endless stretches of road, where I could see to the horizon, and there were long, gradual climbs and decents, and I was doing fine, with expected fatigue starting to set in. With 18 miles left to Socorro, I climbed to over 5000 ft, and suddenly the tailwind was gone. The sun, which had been peeking in and out of the cloudy skies, was gone. I had caught up to the storm which I had been watching all day. The wind switched to a headwind, the temps started to drop from 88 degrees. They would eventually reach 60.  I was in and out of rain for the last two hours of riding. It actually wasn't bad, being cool, and wet for the first time in years, it seemed. The final stretch into town was becoming drudgery, because I was over 80 miles riding, and I had climbed nearly 3000 ft. Easy back in the day, but I'm just trying to round into shape for this adventure. Pam got into town ahead of me, of course, and she got to see rivers of water running down the streets, as she just missed a deluge. I never got too wet, just wet enough to remember to pack a jacket next time rain is in the forecast. This is something I have forgotten about, practically.
To end the day, we Jeeped into town and had a couple of nice steak salads and microbrews. Two beers just about did me in after today's mileage. As we rode into town, I remembered being here before, and where I stayed, as well as other landmarks. US 60 comes out of the mountains here, which was another option (although much more mountainous), because it runs through Mesa, to this point, and Eastward.

May 20, 2018 Deming, NM to Lake Caballo, NM

74.75 miles.  The wind has been my friend since I got on I  10, but today it was a fickle mistress, just like my last trip through here. I started the day by hitting the McDonald's in Deming for breakfast, and in the two miles it took me to get there, I knew things were gonna just suck today. The wind did a 180, and was blowing out of the east, just the way I was headed. I felt like I was on a stationary bike, pedaling my ass off, but going nowhere. And it wasn't a gentle, morning, breeze....it was BLOWING. I  jumped off I 10, today, onto New Mexico 26, and headed in a general northeasterly fashion, beginning the northern track towards Albuquerque. The first hour on 26 was due east, and I think I made it about six miles! 26 is a beautiful road, nice shoulder, but it is more desolate than anywhere on I 10. I had a 50 mile ride ahead of me to Hatch, which is the chili pepper capital of the world. Fortunately, after those initial six miles, the road started bending ever so slightly to the north, and the wind got just a little South to it, and things weren't as terrible as I thought they might be. It was still pretty flat and desolate, until I went over a small pass, and into some beautiful agriculture, and cattle country.  Before that I passed a wind farm, with 28 turbines ( imagine that), and noticed how dusty the air was. No haboob, mind you, but there were plenty of coarse particulates in the air. Pam passed me about half way to Hatch, but didn't stop until we had discussed....in Hatch. By the time I rolled into town, after five hours, averaging 10 mph, she had been there fore a while. The place I wanted to eat, Sparky's, had a line way out the door, so we decided not to wait it out. It was Sunday afternoon, and all the joy riders were out from Albuquerque, I guess. I had a sandwich in the Rv, emptied the ice trays into my warm drinks, and was on my way in a half hour or so. And no, we didn't by any chili peppers.
Pam went one direction, and caught I 25 north to our campground, and I went another, on NM187,  for my last 25 miles, with a well deserved tailwind. The air was hot, and the WeatherBug said the humidity may have been as low as 3%. I don't think I've ever been in that ' feel', before. My ride took me through the fertile Rio Grande Valley, where I saw the chilies growing, ( they look like onions), as well as cotton, corn, alfalfa, possibly wheat, and lots of fallow fields. I crossed the Rio Grande twice, and actually saw water in a river for the first time since Tucson. I also saw two dust devil's that had tumbleweed and debris up 30-40 ft in the air. Neither one of them got me this time. I say that because this is where I got rocked by one last time I  came through. I got to our site at about 4:30. It overlooks Lake Caballo, which is a man made lake on the Rio Grande. Tomorrow's adventure has some unknowns that we have yet to figure out, so I'm not even gonna talk about it.

May19, 2018 Lordsburg NM to Deming NM

60.73 miles.  I've done this trip four times now. Once east to west (that was crazy), and this is the third time west to east. I always thought that it was a desolate piece of travel, but it really isn't. Their is a rest area 20 miles into the ride (all done on I 10, just like every mile since Tucson), I had lunch 37 miles into the ride at a Dairy Queen (with my bride) at Butterfield Station ( a tourist trap, rest area type of place), five miles down the road their was another truck stop (Petro), and a few miles after that I was in Deming. Even though I climbed over the Continental divide today ( and there was a mild  20 mile ascent,) it was barely noticeable. The wind was my friend, and I was going 20 mph at times. The shoulder was excellent except for a few spots near the towns on each end of the ride. There was a constant accompanyment of trains....I think I counted over ten, including one Amtrak. I counted 143 cars on one train, which breaks my record of 124  cars set a few days ago. I don't count cars in every passing train, but the temptation is always there. I 10 and the tracks have pretty much been parallel since Tucson.  There was always something to look at, unlike the way I felt in my previous posts about this ride, when I was just a plebe. Now I have the perspective of a grizzled veteran, but enough about that.
I am looking forward to getting off the interstate, and doing some other roads, but I may be sorry I said that, when I lose my tailwind, my slipstreams, my wide shoulders, and pick up hills, dogs, narrow curves, local drivers who don't know what I am, rough roads,  and all he other stuff that makes this an adventure. I'll get back to ya on that.

May 18, 2018 Bowie, AZ to Lordsburg, New Mexico

53.34 miles.... Riding the interstate is supposed to be boring, today's ride was very sterile....no excitement, no surprises, nice tailwind, no major climbs, even though I did go over a decent pass. More than half my ride was on the Arizona side of the pass, and I had not known of the tremendous agriculture along the San Pedro basin, which was to my right. Previous trips were earlier in April, when nothing was growing. There were mountains on both sides of me, even though I was riding a valley, except for the passes. The area seems to be known for pecans and pistachios, but I also saw some grape vines. There were dust storm warning signs on the Arizona side, but there would be no dust in the air today. It was beautiful, starting out in the 60's and topping out in the 80's, with a tame 10 mph tailwind. There was no place to stop for food or water, even though there was a nice rest area before leaving Arizona. The town of San Simon, which I remember as nothing more than a ghost town, had a Loves truck stop with a Subway, which may not have been there before, according to my previous blogs of the area.
Once over the pass, descending into New Mexico, is where the serious dust storm capabilities really amped up. The ground was as flat as flat could be, and nothing existed besides dried up prairie grass and dirt. There were actually a few cows out there, somehow surviving. I think they  really need to know that there are better places in the world to be a cow, and they were really being "bull"ied. Nevermind, it wasn't funny.
Once again, Pam stopped  along the side of the road to feed me lunch when I was getting pretty hungry, about 13 miles from our destination. She pulled over onto a wide, specially paved area where  vehicles could pull  way off the road during dust storms. Many pictures exist in previous posts of mine through the area, so I didn't do many pictures. We rolled into Lordsburg, after losing an hour from Pacific to Mountain time. We had to run an errand to the Family Dollar, because I was craving Chef Boy R Dee ravioli, our control box to our satellite dish died, and we needed to get cable so we could plug into the campground cable until we can replace it. After dealing with those priorities, we lounged at the pool, which had just opened, and the water was really really cold. I love being out of the Phoenix desert heat!

May17, 2018 Benson, AZ to Bowie, AZ

60 miles today.....got up at 5:30 a.m. to beat the heat, but I wasn't expecting 53 degree temps to greet me. I'm loving this 'high' desert stuff! It really didn't take long for the temps to heat up. I'm glad I got my 16 mile climb from the San Pedro River to the Texas Canyon rest area, on top of the Dragoon Mountains, at the beginning of the day. The entire trip today was on I -10, and the previously mentioned benefits of interstate biking held true today. I took my time on the climb.  Sometimes it was worse than others, but the climb never totally relented. Fortunately, it was followed by a 10 miles descent, which was also wind aided. A few more flat miles got me into Wilcox,  Arizona, where I stopped for lunch at a Burger King, before they were even done with the breakfast menu. I've gotta get used to this getting up early thing. After lunch, a nice half hour, break, I only had 22 miles to go to our next stop, which was the middle of nowhere town of Bowie. It was a flat, wind aided cruise into town, but my legs still are getting in shape, so they were a little beat up.
Pam and I spent our afternoon hiking and touring the Fort Bowie national monument. It is the remnants of an 1860's fort that was built in the mountains for the purpose of securing Apache Pass, and the Apache spring that provided much needed water for travelers. It's most famous for the Union soldiers battles and eventual victories over Cochise, and Geronimo, famous Apache warriors. There is a very interesting story behind it all, so our 'university of retirement' that we began in 2012, is still broadening our horizons. After a 1.5+ mile hike up the mountain to the fort, about a mile touring the perimeter, and a 1.5+ mile hike that entailed another mountain climb, I was pretty bushed. ( You've heard of walking uphill both ways to school? We actually did it today). The return trail took us up to a knoll above the Fort, then we switchbacked our way down to the wash we started out in, before the original climb to the Fort. Make sense? Oh well.
After a sandwich and a beer in a nice, local establishment in Bowie, I was once again under covers by 7:30, hoping for a nice, tailwind for tommorow.

May 16, 2018 Tucson to Benson, Arizona

43.73 miles....Now that was more like it!!!! I'm not losing it!!!! I got up at pre six a.m., and headed out the door while it was still relatively cool. It was in the sixties for a little bit, and it rose into the 90's by 9:30 am. I was 2/3 rds the the way to Benson, by then, instead of just starting out. My climb out of the Valley of the Sun continued into a third day, but I'm finally out of there. Ended the day in the 'high' desert. The Julian Wash trail led me out of Tucson, with it's gradual climb, about 60 ft a mile. After about ten miles, the trail ended, but I picked up Interstate 10 for the rest of the day. It was the perfect medicine. Even though I continued to climb to over 4200 ft, (from1300 ft in Mesa), I finally got into some rolling mountains after peaking the pass, and rolled about five miles down hill into the San Pedro River valley, and Benson. Riding on the interstate is so easy on the legs, because of the slipstream created by the 18 wheelers. I also had a tailwind, which I haven't experienced yet, on this trip.  The 8-10 ft shoulders were smooth and relatively clean of road Gators.( That's bike talk for steel belts from all the retread and tire blowouts) I love riding  on the interstate!, And there is more tommorow, because there are no other roads in this desolate area.
I beat Pam to the new campground, which was basically a field with water and electric. I sat there for about 15 minutes and Pam came rolling in about noon. If I was in shape, I would have gone on to the next town, but with this heat and the cramping issues, I am happy to get this far in good shape. We took the Jeep off the towbar and went to Karchner Cavern State Park. We toured the Cavern, which was 72 degrees and very humid, not exactly what you expect in a cave. It was an interesting tour, we learned a lot and saw beautiful formations, but weren't aloud to take pictures. We killed the afternoon doing that, hit a Denny's for supper, and I was under the covers before seven o'clock.

May 15, 2018 Hanging out in Tucson

11.0 miles.... Yes, you read it right! The last two days have ended so badly that I decided to take the day off, get this supplement out of my system, and start over the next day.  Pam took me back to the place eleven miles from the campground, and I finished my ride from yesterday, from the point of contact with the pavement to the KOA. I followed the Loop trail for the entire distance, including the beginning of the Julian Wash trail, sometimes riding in the concrete wash basin itself. I had an interesting conversation with a biker who was stopped with a flat tire. His name was Gerard, and he was a recumbent hand biker who had lost a leg. He was trying to put on a tire with a really tight bead, and had broken his tire lever. After breaking  two of mine, we realized it wasn't going to work, so he decided to call his wife. He was sitting in the middle of the trail, with the wheel off his bike, but there were no bike shops in the area, and I felt bad about leaving him stuck there. He did tell me that he was getting ready to ride from Anacortes, Washington, to Bar Harbor, Maine, which is the longest route that the adventure cyclist organization outs out maps for.( The Northern Tier route) He was going with three friends, and his wife was the SAG (support and gear) vehicle, like Pam is for me. ( But Pam is WAY more than that!!! Isn't she?) I gave him some advise, and some websites to look at, like Crazyguyonabike. We had a nice conversation, before I headed on my way.
I was relieved that I could ride eleven miles and not cramp up, but I did it. The rest of the day was spent lounging at the very nice pool, drinking a ton of fluid, and having dinner at the little BBQ restaurant at the KOA, and going to bed before 8 o'clock.

May14,2018 Picacho Peak to Tucson

, 43.06 miles.... Well, the bike ride was actually supposed to be 55 miles or so, to the Tuscon KOA, which is the nicest, most well thought out KOA that Pam can remember that we've been to. But......things didn't go so well for the second day in a row.
Started out the ride by doubling back and picking up the 1.3 miles that I bonked on yesterday. The next sixteen miles were frontage road right along Interstate 10. It wasn't bad riding, boring, but not terrible. The wind was behaving itself, and the high was only going to be 94 or so. The problem came with the consequences of yesterday's leg melting ride. The old wheels did not have any juice, and never felt quite up to par.
After the frontage road, I hit an outer suburb of Tucson, Maraña. It was all a repeat of the last time I rode through here a few years ago. I remembered the McDonald's that I stopped at, and remembered the roads like I was here yesterday. A few miles into town begins one of the most extensive paved bike trails I've ever heard of. With just a few exceptions, I was going to ride paved trails for the next 30 or 35 miles, right to the campground. It was exactly the same as it was a few years ago, with the exception of some closures for road construction. Much of the Diamond Trail that I rode on was part of this mega trail, simply called the Loop. Mostly it follows the Santa Clara River, upstream I might add, which is mostly a dry wash, but there was some nice flowing stream in one or two areas. The lower half f the trail was called the Julian Wash trail.
This should have been a breeze to ride, but I had been riding uphill, almost (99%) since I left Mesa, even though the grade was discernable only to my legs, not my eyes. Well, things deteriorated quickly with the hangover my legs were suffering from yesterday. Weakness caused me to have a really difficult time pedaling up the smallest of grades, like when I would go under a crossing road. There were many of those, but there was no traffic to negotiate. About 35 measly miles into my ride, cramping symptoms began to appear, and I really slowed it down. Experience has taught me that when u start to cramp, take my shoes out of the bike clips. That way if I get severe leg cramps, I'll be able to stop easier. ( See entry from North rim of the grand canyon a few years ago when I cramped, couldn't unclip, and just tipped over on the side of the road.) That was a learning experience I will never forget. That experience paid off, as both my legs went into cramps with about eleven miles to go on the ride. I delicately laid my bike down, and fell into the asphalt trail, to work out two major leg cramps. Before I got off the ground, I texted Pam and told her to come get me, AGAIN!
I walked the bike about a half mile to a little park, sat in the shade under a picnic area, and talked to a homeless guy till Pam got there. He was having some problems with his bike, so gave him a zip tie to fix something, and we became best friends. Tucson is swarming with homeless people, along the bike trails, and in every community park.
  I rode home in the Jeep for the second day in a row, wondering what the hell is going on. I have been taking a GNC supplement for the two days we've been traveling, trying to gain an advantage, but hopefully if I stop taking it, things will get back to normal. I know not to try new things without experimenting first, but hopefully I've learned a lesson, and that is my problem. If not, it's going to be a long trip across the country!

2018 Bicycle trip across America

68.57 miles today.....Mesa, AZ to Picacho Peak, AZ.  Wow! It was a rough start, or should I say finish, to the days ride, but more about that later. After climbing the walls for a week while we waited to get the Rv out of the shop, we finally got on the road. Training hasn't been going so well because the entire week before leaving was in the mid100's.  Some days were record setting heat, even by the desert standards. I chose not to ride in that kind of conditions, and the week before that was spent in Hawaii, where I did manage to rent a bike for a couple of confidence building rides. It obviously wasn't enough, but more about that later.                         The day started off with a decent headwind, and 8:00 am temperatures in the 80's. The first 20 miles felt pretty good, throughout Queen Creek and San Tan Valley, which are basically suburbs of the Phoenix metro area. I stopped and had a burger and a Coke, before I really wanted it, but I had a feeling things might get pretty desolate between San Tan and our final destination. Good thing I did, because there was not one, single place to get a drink for hours. As the day went on, the temps kept inching up, but the killer was the headwind. It was beating up my legs pretty good, as the heat also topped out at about 97. There was a road construction detour at the edge of San Tan, that took me about four miles out of my way. Then, my GPS girl took me on a sketchy looking road, Chin Road to be exact, that turned into a damn dirt road. There were 'no trespassing'  signs, and 'open pit' signs, but I figured 'what the hell,' and kept on going. Turns out I was on  Indian reservation land, the Gila tribe to be exact, and they don't believe in pavement because it scars their sacred land. The road bounced between big gravel, deep sand, and being totally unidentifiable. It was my first 'adventure' of the trip. I saw a coyote and a road runner, and kept my eye out for the feral dogs that reservations are known for.( I do have my bear spray and a Bear Gryllis knife with me). That road went on for about five miles of very slow progress, sometimes walking through deep sand. I even walked through the bed of the Gila River, which of course is just a dry wash.  It was taking way longer than I wanted this ride to take, so I didn't stop in the town of Coolidge, home of the Casa Grande ruins.  That would be my last sign of civilization until Picacho Peak. The damn wind was howling into my face at this point, as I got on a frontage road along I 10, which I would follow to the campground where Pam was already set up and enjoying some downtime at the pool.  About 5 pm, when I should have been in the pool, I was still struggling along, waterless, into a side wind. I started getting crampy, and I knew that wasn't good. I only had about five miles to go when I texted Pam and warned her that I might cramp up and need a ride. I muscled it through some minor leg lock, until I got hit with the big one. I called for Pam to bail me out, so she had to detach the Jeep from the Rv and come and get me. I tried riding while I waited, but that didn't go too well. By the time she came, which was pretty quickly, I was 1.35 miles from the campground, but couldn't finish. Boy, did that piss me off.  I lost seven pounds as I pounded into that damn wind, and turned into a salt pillar with the seven percent humidity of the day. But that's what I signed up for. Pam made spaghetti and meat sauce, fed me, hydrated me, and didn't laugh to much when those occasional cramps would bite into my leg.
On another note,  the sight of our campground just happened to be in the sight of the western most battle of the War between the States. I guess Arizona toyed with being a member of the Confederacy, and a small group of blue coats and gray coats had a little gunfire, therefore making it the western most battle of the War.