It’s been three weeks since I returned from my bike trip, and I’m ready to do it again. That’s the way I come home from most of my trips, anxious for another dose of whatever I’ve been consuming. Just give me the opportunity.
Category: Transcontinental Bike Trip
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Victory Declared
A thousand-plus miles is going to have to do it. We’ve decided to fold our biking tent and drive home to California. For reader’s of the blog a word of explanation.
There we were, in the lobby of the Casa Blanca Hotel, all checked out and ready to head off to Las Vegas.
“John, my @#$%&$ tire’s flat again.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding?”
I’d had heard about Arizona’s Virgin River Gorge even before I knew it was bikeable. In fact I’d driven through it several times and had always been frustrated that driving concentration interfered with my scenery appreciation.
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Spokes
The sun was low in the sky on what had been a brilliantly cool desert day. We were on our second of three straight 60-plus-milers, and a welcome tail wind blew out of the north. We always gladly traded warmth for speed.Â
We were descending from a 6800 foot pass on Interstate 15 headed for Beaver, Utah, where our beds were. We were tired. Traffic sped by at 75 mph, and on the steepest downhill portions I was holding my own at 39 mph. The exhilaration helped offset the fatigue.
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The Longest Day
The morning desert was chilly. The clouds that had brought rain to us, and flash floods to southern Utah, had passed, and we were left with just a partial overcast. A sky full of LPF’s I called it (PG-13 definition: little puffy fellows.)
The day started off poorly. I wasn’t feeling very well, kind of like I might be coming down with something, and my timing was terrible. We had numerous chores before biking, and a 50-mile day, so told myself to “suck it up.” I prayed that would work. After three solid days of driving, I was very much wanted to be back in the saddle.
I left Kansas City almost 50 years ago, and I’ve never looked back. At the time I couldn’t get out fast enough, and fortunately for readers, the space limits of this blog prevent discussing those details.Â
“New Mexico’s not gonna work.”
“Why?” Mike asked.
“Way too far between motels, altitude’s gonna screw up our daily mileage until we get used to it and it’s too far between motels. Like sometimes a hundred miles or more.”
“Okay, then ‘what’s the plan Dan?'”
Well we made our first-stage (eastern) objective, despite two days of threatening skies and intermittent rain. We were greeted by friendly faces, the first home cooked meal in four weeks and my wife Marilyn, who showed up to surprise me. But we didn’t make our seventh-hundredth mile. Oh well. Odometer evidence below.