Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 56

Trip Log – Day 209 – Columbus, NM to El Paso, TX

January 23, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 72

Miles to Date: 10,753

States to Date: 28

Everything was easier today. The distance was shorter, the pavement smoother, the wind lighter, the grades shallower, the shoulder wider. I left early and logged forty-five miles before my noon lunch stop, sitting on the sand with my bike propped against a mile marker. I met two approaching cyclists: one traveling from Austin to Phoenix with a 150 pounds of stuff in a trailer, the other an El Paso local on a weekend joy ride. Everyone pedals his own ride. Beyond that, I saw no one. There are no towns or services, or even houses for over fifty miles. Yet, several people told me the Border Road is a great road to cycle because most of the scant traffic is Border Patrol officers, who are helpful with breakdowns.

New Mexico Route 9 runs parallel to the border. A dirt road that runs parallel to Route 9. Beyond, a continuous barbed wire fence runs about fifty feet from the pavement. I wondered why the dirt road existed. Yesterday, I saw a Border Patrol truck driving very slow along the road, pulling two gigantic tires on their sides. The tires smoothed the surface. This morning I witnessed several other Border Patrol vehicles, driving off to the side and just as slow, scanning for footprints. Our pursuit of illegals is a complex, time-consuming and expensive operation.

Along the road there are many cairns. I wonder what they signify?

The first sign of El Paso was sixty miles out, the streams of jets doing maneuvers in the sky over Fort Bliss. I could smell El Paso and Juarez before I saw them. The air, which has been so sweet for the last few days, turned stale. Twenty miles away, the sky over the valley was brown. Somehow, our clean air laws haven’t taught the pollution to stay south of the border. Pale flecks on the distant mountains, which indicated sand in the Chihuahuan Desert earlier in the day, were now buildings climbing the west side of El Paso’s mountains.

I pedaled over the bone dry Rio Grande and under I-10. The transition from wilderness to the Mesa Road commercial strip was abrupt. It took only a few moments to realize that El Paso is not Tucson or Seattle. Bicyclists beware. Trucks cut me off, cars pulled out of driveways ahead of me. I took my time to arrive at my host’s safely.

Trip Log – Day 208 – Portal, AZ to Columbus, NM

January 22, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 98

Miles to Date: 10,681

States to Date: 27

The spirits of New Mexico must be unhappy that I plan to spend only one night in their beautiful state on this leg of my journey. They blew down on me the whole way from Portal to Columbus. Fortunately I planned for delays on this marathon cycling day, and needed every bit of daylight to arrive at my destination.

Despite my desire to leave my host ET’s at 7:00 a.m.; his coffee was too hot, his oatmeal too delicious, and our conversation too rich to sprint out of there. Still, I was on the gravel road pedaling away from his place by 7:30 and reached pavement by 8:00. After ten miles of traveling west, south, east and then north, I could still see ET’s house with his triple flags flying only a mile away as the crow flies before I finally turned east onto NM Route 9.

 

The next 88 miles was terrific bike riding, although not speedy. The grades were gentle, the landscape elegant, the traffic non-existent. Twenty-five miles in I stopped in Animas for the only services on the route. I devoured a burrito and refilled my water. My sixth trek over the Continental Divide was the easiest yet – it is just a rise in the middle of a valley.

My day was just riding, riding riding. I propped my bike against the gate and ate lunch from my pannier in front of McDonald’s ranch outside of Hachita. No free Wi-Fi here.

My desire to reach Columbus before nightfall was thwarted by the wind pushing against me and long, steady climbs. But adverse New Mexico winds are not nearly so damning as their ruthless cousins in the Dakotas. Even as it slowed my progress, this wind was playful, dancing from different directions, creating cool undercurrents, slacking off occasionally so I could savor the Land of Enchantment. I was always behind my target speed, but never enough to give up and sag a ride.

Past Hermanosa, pumping like crazy, the landscape took a fantastic, almost delirious turn. The distant mountains display very different forms. There are ancient, weathered volcanic cones, the rounded shapes of old mountain clusters, and jagged, new ranges. Geologic eons surrounded me. The dry desert I was passing through is but a phase in a landscape that was once a tropical rain forest, once the domain of dinosaurs, once a simmering volcanic cauldron.

Fortunately, there’s a steady eight-mile descent into Columbus. I kept a steady stroke and arrived at my motel in dusk, though still easily visible to local traffic. When the delightful motel owner handed me my receipt she said, “My goodness, you’re cold.” Only then did I realize my skin was frigid. Racing against the sun descending behind me, I never suited back up in my fleece and gloves.

Trip Log – Day 207 – Portal, AZ

January 21, 2016 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 4

Miles to Date: 10,583

States to Date: 26

Rest day! My warmshowers host Ron is the Director of the Visitor’s Center at Coronado National Forest, the Bryce Canyon of Arizona. He took me on a personal tour of the public areas, which were near empty in January but so beautiful on a perfect clear day.

About five I pedaled the short distance between the dirt road to Ron’s house and the dirt road to ET’s house for an evening with my second Portal, AZ host. ET may be the most literate and well-informed cowboy on earth. Forty years of punching cattle, fighting wildfires and being a medic in a region with a lot of undocumented immigrant emergencies made for a thought-provoking evening of great stories.

   

Trip Log – Day 206 – McNeal, AZ to Portal, AZ

January 20, 2016 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 77

Miles to Date: 10,579

States to Date: 26

Today was a banner day for cycle touring. The weather was perfect for my long ride from McNeal to Portal, via Douglas, but I enjoyed many long, gentle descents and had the wind was at my back most of the day.

 

I explored the town of Douglas, whose declining downtown is anchored by the Gadsen Hotel, named for the Ambassador to Mexico who added this area to the United States as part of the Gadsen Purchase of 1854. Douglas enjoyed a heyday as a smelting town for the nearby Bisbee copper mines, and has many vintage early twentieth century houses to mark that period of prosperity.

  

The climb up Guadalupe Pass is a gentle six to eight miles along Arizona 80, followed by many more miles of gentle descents to the New Mexico border. I met a pari of heavy loaded cyclists heading the other direction and I stopped at the Geronimo Obelisk, commemorating the 1886 end of the Indian Wars. I pedaled over the state line to Rodeo, NM where I took a break at the cafe before veering back into Arizona to stay with my Portal host.

  

With several more long days on the horizon it’s nice to fantasize that every long distance day could be this easy, but that’s unrealistic. Better to savor this one day gift of easy cycling.

Trip Log – Day 205 –Bisbee, AZ to McNeal, AZ

January 19, 2016 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 27

Miles to Date: 10,502

States to Date: 26

Today I was a tourist! Spent the entire morning hanging out at the Copper Queen Hotel then emerged to explore Bisbee. I spent a few hours touring the galleries and great Western storefront architecture. I partcularly enjoyed Jason Kihl’s work at Metalmorphosis Gallery and talking with Vincent Wicks who stirred things up a bit at his new Vincente’s Fine Art Gallery with his show, Men… Nude, Naked and Undressed.

  

 

I left town around three for the mostly downhill ride to McNeal. I stayed with father/son warmshowers hosts who live in a rural Quaker community in the gorgeous Sulpher Spring Valley.

Trip Log – Day 204 – Benson, AZ to Bisbee, AZ

January 18, 2016 – Cloudy, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 51

Miles to Date: 10,475

States to Date: 26

 

I woke to frost after ten hours of solid sleep, climbed out of my cozy motorhome and witnessed a glorious dawn. After a delicious breakfast with my hosts, I hit the road under full sun and a rising thermometer.

Fifteen summers ago I traveled Arizona Route 80 in a motor home with my two grammar school age children and their cousin. We watched the staged gunfights in Tombstone’s OK Corral and toured Bisbee’s Copper Mine. Memories of that trip line my passage now. Tombstone without a ten-year-old boy seems more gimmicky than I recalled. But the landscape, at my much slower speed, seems more majestic.

By noon, the sun gave over to clouds. Beyond Tombstone, the broad plains with distant mountains begin to close in. The road undulates through hills and valleys, and up a gorgeous canyon. The north side of the canyon, which faces south, is red, rocky desert. The south side, in constant shade, is littered with deep green pines and an underlay of snow. At the road’s crest, near 6,000 feet, the road shifts to the shady side, Instantly, I was cold.

 

Most people would say I’m frugal. Some might use less accommodating adjectives to describe my relationship to money. I like to think I’m judicious but know when to splurge on something truly dazzling. One glance at Bisbee’s mountainside Historic District convinced me it was worth staying at the Copper Queen Hotel, a nineteenth century eclectic Spanish painted lady where, at one time, true painted ladies plied their trade. The receptionist’s upturned curls and flower in one ear was the perfect period touch: classy, not touristy. The saloon, velvet sofas, pin-stripe wallpaper and creaky floors felt authentic. Apparently three ghosts inhabit the place. I think they have good taste.

  

Trip Log – Day 203 – Tucson, AZ to Benson, AZ

January 17, 2016 – Sunny, 65 degrees

Miles Today: 50

Miles to Date: 10,424

States to Date: 26

In keeping with Tucson’s sociability, my hosts Claire and Bob rode me out of town along The Loop, the city’s elaborate system of cycle paths. Beyond Tucson and Vail, Marsh Station Road proved to be one of the most striking stretches of desert terrain on my journey.

The mountains around Phoenix and Tucson are very different from what I am used to in the East or the Rockies. They pop out of the Sonoran Desert without any directional orientation. Bob explained the area is called ‘Sky Islands’ because each mountain cluster has a discrete ecology and microclimates vary as elevations rise. Certain plant and animal species are unique to one grouping because the plains between are too wide for species to mingle.

When Marsh Station Road joined I-10 for the ten-mile stint into Benson my practice of checking on anyone stopped by the side of the road proved beneficial. I passed an aging pick-up stranded on the shoulder. “Everything good, here/” The woman of the couple explained the truck overheated. “Do you have any water?” Turns out I did, and gave it to them. Nice to know a cyclist can help a motorist in distress.

I got to Benson in time for a few writing hours in the local McDonald’s, which proved to be a friendly place. I chatted with well-tanned winter visitors, an elderly woman helping her much older father sip his fountain drink, and a grandmother struggling between an infant in a high chair and a toddler insistent on sitting at a high-top. A guy with longish hair and maybe three teeth told me that the local St. Vincent de Paul’s Society put up folks who are stranded. I thought about the couple in the pick-up, but then realized he was referring to me. Less than a week back on the road, and I must already be looking scruffy.

I stayed with a quiet man who lives on a spread outside of town and offers his motor home to touring cyclists. The night sky over the San Pedro River was rich in stars.

Trip Log – Day 202 – Tucson, AZ

January 16, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 23

Miles to Date: 10,374

States to Date: 26

 Tucson is a very social place; at least for this itinerant cyclist. My wonderful host Lucia took me on a sunrise hike up Tumamoc Hill where we took in the desert and worked up an appetite for breakfast burritos with her childhood friend Zaida.

After a cycling tour through downtown, The Presdio, the funky Fourth Street District (where Surly discovered her own bar) and the University of Arizona, I made my way to the Northeast part of town for lunch with Carol and Eulee, two friends of my Boston friend Perry whom I can now count as friends of my own.

  

In late afternoon I pedaled to Far Horizons where I stayed with Claire and Bob Rogers, a pair of intrepid cyclists who have logged over 40,000 all around the world, including cycling the Himalayas! Between trips, they home base at this 55+ RV Park. Fortunately, it was Saturday dance night. Over a hundred seniors gathered in the club house for line dances, swing, tango, waltzes and even a couple of polkas. Given the ratio of widows to single men, I had a pretty full dance card all night.

Trip Log – Day 201 – Casa Grande, AZ to Tucson, AZ

January 15, 2016 – Cloudy, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 62

Miles to Date: 10,351

States to Date: 26

A chilly, grey morning lingered into a chilly grey day. Twelve miles on I came to Eloy, a desolate place with a near-empty Main Street. All the action was at Food Town, where bakers and stockers and cashiers all chatted with the customers. Despite having a full breakfast, I tanked up on mango yogurt, a banana and a pair of Mexican Sweetbreads. I could add a bumper sticker to my bike: I stop for Panaderia.

Outside of town I connected with the I-10 frontage road. Despite traffic whizzing past 100 yards away, the road was my solitary space, a straight and steady rise with the wind in my face for 32 miles. This situation connects me with the Zen, the yoga of cycling. For the first few miles I push against the reality that for the next few hours I have nothing to do but pedal. I shift in my saddle and check my odometer’s every click. My mind calculates and recalculates. How far have I gone? When will I get to the Exit 244? I invent games to pass the time.

 

At some point the mental gymnastics dissipate. I resign myself to pedaling. Nothing changes. The mountain in the distance remains fixed and unattainable. The landscape is too big to register my slow progress. The wind is too steady for me to feel its variation. The grade is too slight to discern any rise or fall.

Finally, out of that space where nothing changes, I stop thinking about time or progress. Everything becomes hyper alive; the smallest wind shift, the shallowest pavement dip. The immovable distance I must cross vanishes. The struggle of time passing evaporates. I simply breathe where I am.

Long stretches are perfect for singing. My repertoire is triggered by whatever passes; a car, a sign, a bird. I come to Red Rock, which is nothing more than a stretch of railroad and rudimentary interchange. Immediately I recall Song for Martin by Judy Collins. It begins, “In Red Rock Arizona he lived for many years alone…” It’s been twenty years or more since I sang the fragile poem of a not-quite friend’s suicide. But lyrics stick to memory like oatmeal to our gut; I remembered every line. The song resonates even more haunting rolling across this blank expanse where so many years ago someone Judy wished she knew better took his final breath.

The wind, the slope, the landscape, and my mood all turn around in Marana, Tucson’s northwestern exurb. My steady climb becomes a gentle decline. The wind shifts from my head to my tail. The frontage road is littered with offbeat stores and construction yards. My spirits lighten as I approach my destination. At Twin Peaks Road I shift to the The Loop, Tucson’s extensive bicycle ring path. I’m released from the Interstate’s throb. I ride a wide paved path lined with Ironweed and Mesquite, scrub cactus and sharp rock until I reach my destination.

Trip Log – Day 199 – Goodyear, AZ to Tempe, AZ

January 13, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 38

Miles to Date: 10,218

States to Date: 26

Today was the ultimate demonstration of my route’s inefficiency. I spun a complete U-turn and ended up exactly where I began yesterday. Fourth graders west of Phoenix wanted to talk with me on Tuesday. College professors at Arizona State invited me on Wednesday. I pedal where my question takes me.

Arizonans do not reset their clocks. The state is on Pacific Standard Time in the summer and Mountain Standard Time in the winter. That means January mornings are dark. Given the desert, they’re also cold. I headed out of Goodyear at first light, which is not until 7:00 a.m. Frost glistened on car windshields. I coffeed up at Circle K; they are ubiquitous here. I rolled toward the sun, warmer with every breath.

The affluent cities surrounding Phoenix have wide, straight roads lined with eight foot high masonry walls that hide tawny stucco houses with red tile roofs spun along curlicue streets. The main arteries are monotonous. I prefer Phoenix proper, which includes most of the distance from Goodyear to Tempe. Poorer neighborhoods are more interesting. Houses are less precious, tchotchke’s hang all over them. More dogs chase me in barrios, but most are small. Little Napoleons run after me for half a block, though they can’t even reach my heel.

I travelled through the city’s bowels. On Lower Buckeye Road, the county prison is across from the dump, which is next to the wastewater treatment plant, an industrial area, scrap yards, and the bus terminus, where the striking drivers were picketing in force. A pungent no-man’s land.

I knew Arizona State University as the nation’s foremost online college educator. Along my journey, several people suggested it’s in the forefront of other educational innovations, so I was pleased when several ASU faculty and staff agreed to talk with me about tomorrow. A university with a School of Sustainability, a School of Public Service and Community Solutions, and a School of the Future of Innovation in Society has got tomorrow on its mind.

I had fascinating discussions with a variety of folks there (profiles to come!) but was so dazed after my last interview, I camped out in the Student Union to organize my notes. Luck led me the Changemaker Central, a student run lounge dedicated to service opportunities: Teach for America, Peace Corps, and the like; a welcome complement to the Armed Services Recruitment Centers on many campuses.

I stayed with a cool group of undergraduates in a splashy student apartment: four-bedrooms, two baths, sunset views and a pool. No matter that I was three times their age, we did what college students everywhere do: stayed up too late talking about everything.