Pulled out of our delightful little cowboy town to a cool, 59°, no wind morning.  The charming town of Wickenburg would be worth a longer visit, but definitely off season.  Saloons and restaurants had a warm local feel; but during the high/winter season it is filled with cowboys (three roping arenas) and RV’s.  In fact the last three days we’ve ridden by ghost towns that come alive in the winter, as the RV-driving snow birds flock in.

Crossed the very dry Hassayampa River into the uninhabited Arizona countryside.  The word desert does not seem applicable to such pretty surroundings;flowers were blooming and even the roads wore a smile.  White fluffy clouds obscured the sun from heating the morning and a breeze had begun to kiss our shoulder, so our slight downhill ride remained cool and comfortable.   It was two hours before we saw civilization, as we entered Surprise (yes, that is a town name) and another hour later before our course became a busier roadway.  Shortly thereafter, our map directed us through quiet neighborhoods where golf carts were the preferred mode of transportation; it was a delightful ride.  By 11:00 with 40 miles under our belt, we took a rest stop at a local park and enjoyed an orange.  This was the beginning of our Greenway Channel Trail, a paved path along the overflow canal and Phoenix water supply canal.  The canal wound through the backyards of neighborhoods and parks avoiding busy roads.  With the day still cool, we enjoyed the quiet and scenery this path provided.  The downfall of neighborhoods was no places to eat and we were getting low on energy.  After five hours of biking and 56 miles, we finally found the perfect place; a bike store and cafe.  The hour rest was not only delicious, but informative.  Suggestions abound for the perfect route to get us to the end of the day.  Instead of traversing roads as our map directed, we were told of more canal routes; we were in!  This new route was filled with a variety not seen from a car.  We biked past the front door of the Arizona Biltmore and Country Club, and the backdoor of Scottsdale neighborhoods.  Our ride through Papago Park took us through the Desert Botanical Garden and past the Red Mountain and Phoenix Zoo. The scenery was stellar. By 3:30, we crossed the Gila River into Tempe and our hotel on the edge of the Arizona State University campus.  It had been a cool, downhill, Gorgeous ride; we actually felt pretty good having polished off 70 miles.  But we had promised ourselves a day off and we knew the following week was going to be grueling, so rest was in order, but so was dinner.Now we are ready for bed.

San Diego, California to Tempe, Arizona

420 miles

Seemed strange to wake and not put bike clothes on, but that didn’t mean we were skipping breakfast.  We headed down the street to a delicious breakfast shop and apparently the locals place to eat.  The people watching was as fascinating (sorry no photos) as the food was amazing (fried eggs on Ciabatta with bacon, tomato and Gorgonzola cheese).

Later, we strolled the quiet streets and were surprised to see very few people and even less cars; but bike lanes were everywhere.

The last couple of days, we have been struck by how clean the entire Phoenix area is, not to mention creative,quirky and fun.

On our way to dinner we learned that next week is ASU’s finals week, so the students were obviously locked down and studying note the cases of beer.

The rest of the students were letting off steam at this locals bar equipped with Jinga, Cornhole, Baseball and Beer.

 Inspired, we stopped for a Margarita on the way to dinner.  Knowing we could not hang without food and Ummm hydration, we found the perfect remedy……yes, we are eating as if we biked 100 miles today.  The icing on the cake, homemade ice cream.  Tomorrow we leave civilization and any evidence of good food, so we were stocking up……that is our story and we are sticking to it!

Our early morning departure was cool, 61° and breezy, this time in our face.  Thankfully, it was only about 10 mph out of the southeast; we were due, but that didn’t mean we liked it.

The campus was still sleeping as we pedaled out of town on a long straight road.  One housing development followed another as suburbia spread from the city.

 Stopped for breakfast with only 12 miles completed, yet almost an hour and a half of biking; it was a slow go on our gradual climb. An awesome Crunchy French Toast with ample butter and bacon was just the remedy for our slow progress (or anything other ailment, for that matter).

It was still in the 60’s as we returned to our straight road; for twenty miles we saw nothing but homes and mobile parks.  One cannot imagine how many mobile homes there are here, it’s tough to imagine this many exist in the world!

It was not until Apache Junction that the homes gave way to desert and a better view of Superstition Mountain.

Four hours of steady climbing and still only 37 miles down.  And the serious climbing was only now about to begin, but the breeze had turned and was now to our back.  The dark clouds that had threatened rain earlier had obviously hit before we got to our major climb; wet roads and white fluffy clouds remained.  Whether the new rain or cooler than average temperatures, the desert was awash with color.

By 1:30 we made it over Gonzales Pass and were looking forward to the downhill into town.  As we turned the corner we were struck by the beauty of The Picket Post Mountain.  The sun lit sections, while clouds shaded the top, it was an awesome sight (as evidenced by all our photos of it).  The mountain temporarily distracted us from the fact that our downhill was short-lived.  Though the road looked downhill, we struggled to pedal the last eight miles into town.  It took us an hour to maneuver through traffic construction and the continuous uphill grade.  We were spent after our 55 mile constant uphill ride and hoped our Stromboli refueling would bring us back to life for tomorrow’s ride.

It was a most spectacular morning, sunny 61° a cooling breeze blowing; perfect day to sit on the veranda sipping coffee and watch the sun dance on the mountain.  But our motel didn’t have a veranda, or a view and we were destined to bike; so this is our version.

A fierce wind was blowing down the canyon wall and the road construction we’d experienced on our way in to town yesterday, followed up the course we were to take.  We had not been looking forward to this climb and the 15 mph wind and construction was an unhelpful one-two punch to add to the day.The white dots close to the top right are trucks.

A mile in, we had a tunnel to navigate.  Our map had warned that traffic was heavy and the sidewalk was minimal.  Oddly enough, the road construction worked to our advantage; an entire lane was blocked off for workers, who were more than willing to allow us to use it.  The climbing was slow and we took short breaks when we had an extra inch of road.  The wind was relentless and determined to beat us down, gusting from 20 to 30 mph.  But it was as gorgeous as it was grueling; majestic rocks of the Queen Creek Canyon offered diverse albeit temporary distractions.  At one of the rougher areas of construction, Jim pulled beside us and suggested going behind the barriers for safety.  He met us at the next opening and detailed for us the next couple miles; down the Devils Canyon and then the climb back up.  Jim then drove ahead and if we were forced to be on the road, he would pull in behind us and keep the traffic from bearing down; over and above and very appreciated. It had been one of our most interesting sections of any course.

Finally, after over two hours of biking and ten miles we reached the Top of The World 4600 foot pass.  A small section of tall trees, then more rock to start our descent.  We only had two miles of true down hill (had to pedal down the 6% grade just to manage over 10 mph) then back to up and down riding, wind always in our face.  One last gift from construction workers was an invitation to bike down the closed road, while traffic was being held.  We just had to be respectful of one tight spot on the way down.

By the time we reached Miami (Copper Center of the World), we had dropped 1200 feet.  It was a quiet ride through Miami that joined the outskirts of Globe with a lot of ups and downs in between.  After being on the road for four hours, we had only managed just over 21 miles, but needed a lunch and rest break.  It was a nice hour break and one of the best lunches I’ve ever had.  On the road again, it took 45 minutes for us to pedal our last four more miles to our stop, the wind slowing us to the last minute.

We were looking forward to a large Margarita and some good Mexican food at the restaurant two doors down. We should have known the food was not going to be great, when they didn’t serve Margaritas…..how does that happen?  Can’t eat great every night.

Today was a scheduled short 26 miles in order to rest for the next few long days ahead.  But it took us six hours (4 hours of riding) to get here, hoping the wind will favor us on the next few days.

A gradual mile climb up and six miles down with not a bit of wind; it was a glorious start to the morning.  The climbs and drops were gradual and enjoyable, we were really enjoying the quiet, cool morning.  The majesty of the hills and the land is impossible to describe or convey in photographs.  Ten minutes down the road, we entered the San Carlos Apache Tribe Reservation.  We were enjoying the morning (and no wind), rolling up and down the hills in the cool morning.  We’d pumped out 20 miles by our first stop, only an hour and half in.  We chatted with an Apache and discussed our different modes of transportation.

The landscape continued to engage us, from the towering mountains to the smallest of flowers; the layers of hills and mountains framing our horizon.  But nothing was so dramatic in it’s beauty as this blooming cactus.

Shortly before ten, the forecasted SE winds announced their arrival and intention to blow strictly west, directly in our face.  Though only 10 mph, not nearly the force of yesterday, it quickly drained any reserve our legs had.  Our pace slowed dramatically, eight miles in an hour.  Just before noon, we took another rest and advantage of an Apache market for an early lunch.  With  a lot of miles to cover, we only stopped for 30 minutes.  Though it had been 83° in the shade of our stop, our thermometers quickly rose to the triple digits after a few minutes in full sun. The rolling hills soon became a struggle in the wind.We again passed dried river beds and one that actually had water.  In the distance at the base of the mountain, green abound near the Gila River.  Five hours and 40 miles since entering the reservation, we finally found the end.  Nothing changed much, other than the roadside became cleaner.  Continuous trash and glass is something we have sadly noticed in any reservation in which we have biked.

We had been watching this mountain top for hours, not believing we could actually see snow while struggling in the 100° sun.  Mt. Graham stands at 10,720 feet, so yes, it is snow.After over 500 miles in the “Old West”, we see our first horses. Our last stop was cool, refreshing and an unexpected treat.  Taylor Freeze in Pima has been a welcome and friendly respite for bicyclists doing the coast to coast ride.  We could use them at the end of every day’s ride.  We had ten more miles and thankfully our last stop had given us the much needed energy to make it.  After seven and a half hours of sitting on the bike, willing it to go forward, we finally rolled into our room for the night.  It was a long hard 76 miles and we were spent.

We would like to thank Everyone that has commented thus far.  Rest assured, though we may not respond, we read each one…..Thank You!

Days ago, we spent hours trying to find an alternative route to the one our map wanted us to take from Duncan.  The problem was the mapped route would require at least one night of camping in the desert with no campground or Water.  We were excited with our new route, as it would provide a hot shower and soft pillow, plus it would be a short ride after our grueling ride from yesterday.  But the wind Gods saw it differently; the road could not be any more directly into the wind.

 Our half mile out of town was straight east and the buildings blocked the brunt of the wind.  However, once we turned southeast, the 20-30 mph wind stood us straight up.  We struggled to go 5 mph on our slight uphill, not that we could tell if there was an uphill, the wind was so strong.  We pushed to go a mile before stopping; our only opportunity to take a picture.  Ten miles out, we came to the intersection that would put us on course and the wind at our shoulder. Tempting as it was to not face the wind any longer, it was not strong enough to pull us away from a motel room at the end of the day.  Based on our photos, it was a pretty ride, but every nerve, thread and ounce of our body was focused on staying upright and moving forward. After two hours of biking we had climbed 500 feet and only gone 13 miles; it was arduous, no, it was Brutal!  Another hour of biking only yielded an additional three miles; we were getting beat up.  We had really underestimated how much the wind was going to take out of us and by mile 20 were were starting to ration water.  The climbing and desert wind was sucking everything out of us and we questioned our finishing.  We rounded a corner at one point and saw a car pulled over on the side of the road.  Our spirits lifted slightly, thinking it may be a police car that we could beg a bottle of water from.  As we pulled into the turnoff, we realized it was someone having a roadside lunch; we asked nonetheless, but obviously no one drives around with a cooler of water.  We pushed on.  About a half an hour later, a car approaching from the other direction starts waving us down.  Our desert Angel, Diane, had stopped her lunch and driven over 30 miles to buy water for us, over a Gallon of it.  Diane, if you are watching THANK YOU, as we were pretty close to done.

 The wind was still blowing hard in our face, but fully loaded with water, we knew we could make the last 12 miles, albeit slowly.  By our fifth hour of pedaling, we had only come 31 miles.

A few miles short of town, we were gifted a downhill we could actually coast down.  The wind fought hard to push us back up, but this time, for two miles we enjoyed not pedaling.  On the outskirts of town, we stopped at the first place we saw that offered refreshments.  The sign was not promising, but it was 2:30 and other than breakfast, we had only had an apple and orange.  Lunch was unexpectedly good, plus we got a tip on a good place to stay for the night.

Don’t judge a book by it’s cover our room was huge, brand new and comfortable; apparently a far cry from what we had reserved.

Six hours biking, eight hours out and only 40 miles completed.  It had been a very tough day.