I arrived yesterday afternoon and spent time talking to some loved ones and zoning out rather than working on a blog post. I'm starting this after a long night's sleep.
The day started cold and rainy in Prescott, Arizona. (Despite my hopes, I did not escape the weather.) Highway 89 south from Prescott winds and climbs out of town, then descends to open plains. It reaches about 6100 feet going over the mountains, and it is a fiendish little road, with many, many tight turns in the first 15 miles signposted for 20 MPH. And, in the wind and rain and with my new low-performance tires, I took those turns at 20. I was a slow, super-conservative rider. Miraculously, no one overtook me during that entire time. Once I got down to the plains, to occasional sun and dry pavement, I picked up the pace. It's really a lovely trip through the cedar-dotted plains and ranchlands. The ranches of Peeples Valley are particularly pretty. I rode through low, rolling hills to the folksy town of Yarnell. That's where an entire team of 19 "hot shot" firefighters from Prescott died when a fire unpredictably turned on them on June 30, 2013.
South of Yarnell, the earth just fell away. The speed limit dropped to 30 MPH and the road seemed to plunge off the level ground of Yarnell into the vast, open view to the south. It was more like being in an airplane than on a highway. That stretch is one of the most dramatic roads I've traveled. The road clings to the steep mountainside and descends almost 2000 feet in several miles to the town of Congress, below.
Once on the flats at Congress, the road stayed flat and straight for many miles, passing ranges of hills but holding to long, long straight stretches through desert and farmland. The wind blew strongly from straight ahead. I twisted the throttle and accepted the lower MPG in my haste to get home.
My eastward route on this trip was entirely separate from my westward route, except for 6 miles of US 60 between Salome and Hope, AZ. As I passed that way I looked for the gorgeous bloom of ocotillos that I had seen on April 9, but it was long gone.
Around Hope I began passing numerous RV parks. I like the desert, but I wouldn't want to be a snowbird parked in some RV ghetto in the middle of nowhere all winter, nowhere near any form of culture or entertainment. However, some people must like it. There were sure a lot of spaces out there, although now, in early May, they were beginning to clear out. A sign on a Mexican restaurant said "Closed - Reopening September 1."
The front that dumped rain (and later snow, I learned!) on Prescott still held isolated showers, sometimes in lacy veils that didn't quite reach the desert floor, sometimes in cloudbursts that did. None of them impacted me, although as I crossed the Colorado River bridge into California on Interstate 10, I did get a minute or two of rain.
I was dressed in more clothes that I had worn on the entire trip, spurred by the rain and cold at my starting point. But I remained dressed that way during the entire ride. It never really warmed up much. Across the California desert the wind gusted strong from the side and ahead. I rode along tilted to the left and wiggling in the gusts, passing slower trucks. In the Coachella Valley the wind eased a little. Snow was falling all around San Jacinto peak and rain was falling into the "Indian Canyons" south of the peak. The summit was buried in clouds, as was Mount San Gorgonio, which was undoubtedly getting a snowfall, too. I barely saw any snow during my entire trip (tiny glimpses in New Mexico) and now, back in my local neighborhood, I was getting the full show.
As Interstate 10 passed between those two mighty peaks, at the town of Banning, an ugly rainstorm began. The crowded freeway, dim light, and heavy rain made for some paranoid riding. I pushed through and 10 miles later the rain stopped and the road gradually dried. Other pockets of showers were visible all around the route ahead, but they didn't cross my path.
To complete my trip, I did a little lane-splitting in slow traffic past Ontario airport. California is the only state in which that's legal. Yeah, the little Ninja was wide-hipped, as shown in the photo at the top of this post, but it still fit those lane holes. Then I used carpool lanes for about 25 miles until the last run up the Glendale Freeway to home.
I was glad to see my son, Casey, who was at the house. We talked for a while and then he left for an appointment. Later my girlfriend Deni came over and I talked about how much I had missed her. I gave her a trinket that I had bought on the Zuni reservation. We'll be getting together again this weekend, when I have recovered a bit from my travels.
At some point I zonked out on the couch, then woke at midnight and went upstairs to bed. Now there are pieces of mail to handle, plenty of cleaning up to do, and plenty of catching up on work emails.
What did I expect on this trip? What did I discover? I will post about that, but not this morning. That will take some time to put into words.
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