ARIZONA

DAY 10 continued - May 21, 2001
585 miles
Total miles: 2490

I crossed into Arizona (after going back over the Continental Divide) and stopped for lunch at another classic divey dive (Mexican food) in Springerville, AZ. Then I headed north to visit the Petrified Forest.

The Petrified Forest was No Big Deal. Well, it was kind of cool - lots of petrified logs lying around all over the place - but it was nowhere near as beautiful as the canyon country in Utah. I did grab a couple of good pics though:

[The Teepees.]

[The Painted Desert (or part of it anyway).]

I also ran into a carload of Pakistani or East Indian gentlemen. The turbaned driver asked me (in my silver suit, which I have yet to post a picture of) if I just landed from outer space. I said, "Well, as I matter of fact I did. Actually I was aiming for Roswell but I missed by a few hundred miles." They seemed to find this amusing.

From the Petrified Forest to my final resting place was a non-stop 160 mile zoom, in a vain attempt to beat the darkness. Driving in the country after dark is one thing, but on a motorcycle you also have surface conditions (which you can't see) and wildlife (imagine hitting a deer on a bike) to deal with. But the sunset was beautiful. Wispy clouds I hadn't noticed all day lit up like swirls of cotton candy.

Just one thing: Whoever said riding into the sunset was romantic never actually tried it. It gives you a headache.

Rolled into Tuba City about 9:30, with the stars out and just a glimmer of color on the horizon. By the time I'd checked in and unloaded the bike, all the dinner options were closed with the exception of McDonalds, and so it had to be. Then I dropped by a minimart for a beer - and - no beer! That's right, Tuba City is on the Navajo reservation and, to quote the clerk, "there's no beer on the reservation". Bummer.

DAY 11 - May 22, 2001
355 miles
Total miles: 2845

Today was Grand Canyon day, so after breakfast I headed off to the North Rim. I decided to visit this less-traveled area rather than the busier South Rim. It's a very different climate. At almost 9,000 feet it supports a subalpine forest, which stays relatively cool even in the heat of summer.

The run in is about 150 miles and I made great time, thanks to clear weather and light traffic on the glorious 2-lane. To bastardize George Orwell, 4 lanes good, 2 lanes better! They're always less crowded and somehow much closer to the surrounding landscape. Also there aren't many of our esteemed law enforcement officers around to tell me it's not a good idea to be going 25 over the limit (please don't let your impressionable children visit this site.)

On the way I stopped at Navajo Bridge, which crosses the Colorado River. The bridge is actually two bridges - one for vehicles and a neighboring pedestrian bridge. As usual I met 8 or 10 new people and caught a rafting group going by under the bridge. I also spotted four condors perched on the rocks below the bridge. No pics of them though - too small.

[The Colorado River, as seen from Navajo Bridge.]

[A couple of powered rafts coming down the river. They got close to the condors but the damn birds wouldn't fly.]

[The deal is, I'll take your picture with your camera, but then I get to take one with mine. These two are from the Czech Republic. That's about all the English they spoke.]

I headed onward from Navajo Bridge and hit an incredibly straight stretch of road across a piece of high desert. I'm certain I saw a sign saying "Speed Limit: Whatever". No really officer, that's what it said. At the end were a great set of twisty curves climbing up several hundred feet, then forest and more curves leading to the park entrance. I saw plenty of good photo opportunities but since it was shortly after noon I figured I'd shoot them on the way back when the light was better (pics at noon = blah). I also saw a healthy looking coyote, who crossed the road as I was approaching. And then I saw a dead deer. This reinforced my sense of caution about riding in forested country, especially when the forest comes right up to the edge of the road. And I slowed down - a little.

When I finally reached the parking lot I was hungry but decided to take a peek at this canyon thing first. At the first overlook I ran into Eric and Wayne, who had driven down from Washington State. I made the picture deal:

[Eric and his dad Wayne are from Kirkland, Washington - just across the lake from my own shack.]

Oh hell, lunch can wait. I hiked out to a point just east of the visitor's center to get some real photographs. Of course I ran into more folks needing their picture taken:

[These three are from Salt Lake City. Well, she used to live in Everett, WA. And she wants to go back.]

[Looking west.]

[Interesting character. We all thought it was a woman but it was a dude, dude. I think he was really digging it here.]

Finally struggled, half-starved and gasping for air (this is 9,000 feet after all), back to the North Rim lodge and grabbed some cheap eats and the cafeteria there. A bus driver walked passed, smoking, and told his companion "I'm just going to wait in the bus." And I thought about how what we have already experienced colors what we will experience. For most of the passengers on his bus this was probably a first or second trip, and they would be gawking and pointing at everything, lost in wonder. The driver sees the exact same things, probably has an even better view from the front, and he's either bored or thinking ahead to his next smoke. Of course if he's really awake, he's spending his attention on the details that he missed the first, or fifty-first, trip. And so perhaps his experience is just as rich as the first-timers.

I decided to head off to some of the other overlooks. As I was passing through the parking lot (shooting pictures of license plates, for no good reason) I met a couple from Kent, England who run a bed & breakfast there. It's called Pigeonwood, and I promised to look them up when I'm in the area this September. They mentioned they were headed to Santa Fe and I recommended the mountain route I rode with Jesus Mike.

[Sam and Mary Martin, from England.]

25 miles brought me to this view. This is Angels Window, and through the window you can see the Colorado River winding far below.

[Angels Window (no apostrophe). Note the people on top.]

[Another stunning Grand Canyon vista.]

When I headed out toward Angels Window I realized I was getting low on gas, but I didn't realize how low. As I started riding back I found I had about 1/8 tank less, which translates into something in the neighborhood of 20 miles. And it was 25 miles to the closest gas. So I rode the whole way at 30 mph in top gear. The engine didn't love it but it did get me back with a few vapors to spare.

But the road was fun anyway. Pretty much what you'd expect when you see this sign:

[It says "Winding Road" - 'case you can't read it]

On the way I couldn't resist a few pictures of the aspens in the late afternoon light. The leaves glowed the color of new green tennis balls.

[The aspens a-glowing.]

I did some thinking about priorities on a trip like this. Here they are:

1. Bathroom breaks
2. Gas (it was a tough choice between this and water, but I realized I could always find water if I had gas. But not the reverse.
3. Water
4. Food
5. Coffee
6. Sleep

I tried to get some shots of the vast alpine meadows on the way out of the park, but the point-and-shoot digicam wouldn't do them justice. I did find something that was up to the medium though:

[I wonder who "Scary" Larry is?]

One thing I did encounter in great profusion was tiny bugs. The Grand Canyon area was the buggiest part of this entire trip (so far). This headlight shot far exceeds the last one. I also found most of my clothing covered with the poor little guys. Per Annette's recommendation, I offered a brief prayer for their karma, that they might return as something higher on the evolutionary scale.

[A lot of bugs.]

Back down the twisties, with a stop halfway for a few photographs and, okay, a bathroom break.

[Great place for a car commercial. The road appears right above the motorcycle windshield. The plain beyond contains the huge long straight stretch I rode in across. This time I was chasing my shadow the whole way.]

It wasn't quite dark when I got back to Tuba City but I still ended up eating fast food, though this time it was KFC. I couldn't find the "truck stop" (which was supposed to have good food) even though I'd seen it the night before. Weird. Stayed up 'til 2:30 am working on the site - not bad for three days' worth of content.

DAY 12 - May 23, 2001
320 miles
Total miles: 3165

I tried to sleep until 9 this morning but ended up getting up about 8. I've been having some trouble staying asleep in the mornings, which I attribute to excitement about the day ahead. I think that's worth it - I'll give up a little sleep for a good time anytime. "Wheels down" as they say at 10:20, and reached the South Rim of the Grand Canyon about noon. On the way in, a bathroom break by the roadside. When I got back to the bike a busload of tourists had pulled up. I was surprised and a little pleased when they all started pointing cameras at me:

[They must love the silver suit.]

Oh wait, it wasn't me. I turned to the right and there it was: the Grand Canyon sign. Pictures traded as usual.

[Where's that guy going?]

A few slow miles ahead (thanks to plenty of traffic - the south rim is much busier than the north) I came to the first good overlook. The canyon is indeed much more impressive from this side, partly because the Colorado River is so clearly visible at the bottom. Unfortunately today, like every day on this trip, I arrived at the Scenic Spot Of The Day at high noon - probably the worst light for photographing anything. My guess is this place would look best in early morning, before the haze you see here develops.

[Big, ain't it?]

I happened by a bunch of bikers and addressed them but they didn't speak English. In fact they were all French, and all must have rented these bikes somewhere. If there is a Babel of modern-day America, this is it. French, German, Czech, Japanese, various Scandinavian languages and some I couldn't identify at all. Okay, New York is probably more Babelian but it doesn't have the scenery.

[French outlaw bikers. I do not fear you, Frenchpersons.]

My second stop inside the park was at the main visitors' lodge. I was lucky enough to find a shady place to park - the day was getting hot (though my thermometer quit - battery dead). A few more pictures from the lodge (though none better than the one above), plus one of a condor that flew by overhead:

[This is a very large bird - reintroduced to the canyon area through a breeding program.]

I saw throngs of people, but no mules. But I saw a mule sign.

[Evidence of mules.]

I left the park at 1:30. I had a dinner appointment in Phoenix, at the home of Sara and Patrick Dial and their three kids, and I didn't want to be late. Patrick was a client of mine when I was a partner at RMB Vivid (the design firm I co-founded in 1998). He was Garth Brooks' promoter and tour manager for ten years before setting out on his own with an internet entertainment venture, Rock Island Entertainment, that RMB helped design and implement.

One day I called his house, trying to track him down with a question related to the project, and his wife answered. Patrick wasn't in. "Tell him Bob Meador called," I said. "Is this the Bob Meador who went to Lakeside?" she asked. I was. Turns out Sara Dial was Sara Goertzen when we went through high school together. This was a graduating class of 100, so what are the odds of that kind of connection happening? The world is much smaller than we think sometimes.

Sara moved to Phoenix after graduating from Stanford and, after spending time in investment banking, at 29 became Arizona's youngest Secretary of Commerce. Now she continues to run her own consulting and lobbying business, is raising three kids (Tyler, 5-1/2, Wyatt, 3-1/2 and Tatum, 5 months) and is very active in the community there. Sara's sister Kathi Goertzen is a prominent and respected news anchor in Seattle.

So that's where I was going, but first I had to get there. I rode south out of the park to Flagstaff, and the day was getting hotter. The gas station attendant where I stopped said it was in the eighties, but he told me Phoenix was over 100. Hmmm. Well this should be interesting, I thought. I bought a new battery for the thermometer.

South of Flagstaff I branched off to Sedona. The road descended through switchbacks into a beautiful red rock canyon lined with lush green trees hanging over what I think is the Verde river. Traffic was lousy - everyone sightseeing and going under the speed limit. Of course I couldn't really complain - it was a breathtaking stretch of scenery - but I was getting hotter by the minute (in the nineties) and knew that if the traffic continued like this I would certainly be late. So I didn't take any pictures. If you want to see it you'll have to go there yourself (and I highly recommend it).

After Sedona I stayed on the secondary roads to Cottonwood. I thought the traffic would lighten up but it didn't. I called ahead to Sara, anticipating I might be late. She said it was 110 in Phoenix and I was going to die. I believed her. Then I downed a quart bottle of water, saving the last part to pour over my shirt in hopes it would keep me cool and headed over to Interstate 17 to make the best time I could into Phoenix.

The thermometer crept up and up. The sensor was in the shade so I knew it was fairly accurate. It was really, really hot. I started to get nervous about suffering some kind of heatstroke. I was careful to keep breathing. It's easy to start taking very shallow breaths in this kind of heat, but it's important to keep the blood well oxygenated to keep the brain alert, so I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply.

I was doing a good 85-90 mph but when the thermometer hit 110 I backed off to 80. My fear was suffering a blowout from the tires overheating. This would not be a fun experience on a motorcycle. I've never experienced one (or even a flat - knock wood) but the report is, if the front tire goes flat the steering gets heavy but it's not really a crisis. You still have control of the bike. If the rear goes, though, it's much easier to start fishtailing and lose control.

I made it safely to Phoenix and bought another bottle of water for stomach and shirt. The thermometer was reading 116 - this I attribute to the heat coming off the blacktop. I always wonder why they measure the temperature in the shade. It's the sun that kills you. It would have been easy to fry an egg on that road. Easy. 20 minutes later I arrived at the Dial home in Scottsdale.

[The Dial home - what would fit in the frame. It's not much, but they make the best of it.]

I parked the bike in the garage. Most of it was too hot to touch, and three hours later hadn't cooled off much. I stepped into the house and it was glorious - cool, cool, cool. I realized how much electricity a place like this must use to keep it livable. Given the west's rain and snowfall shortage this past winter, I wondered how they would deal with the power shortages summer might bring. It would be very difficult for some people to survive here without air conditioning.

Sara and Patrick were wonderful hosts. We spent the evening drinking beer and talking about everything under the sun. Of course Sara and I went over everyone in class - where they are now, what they're doing, who's changing the world, who retired in their thirties. Patrick was very tolerant. He got his turn though - we talked about the present and future direction of his company, where technology is headed, motorcycles (his dad has a Harley and both his brothers have BMWs like mine) and what's really important in life.

[Sara with King Wyatt and bug-cute Tatum.]

[Wyatt Dial, king by day, Power Ranger by night.]

Off to bed at 11 in air-conditioned comfort and the softest sheets you've ever felt. I set my alarm for 6 to get an early start on things.

DAY 13 - May 24, 2001
227 miles
Total miles: 3392

I snoozed 'til 6:30 then hopped in the shower. And I realized one more great thing about staying at someone's home - the towels. Nice, thick, luxurious towels. And big too, big as Texas.

Except it wasn't 6:30 when I got up - it was 5:30. Arizona is on Mountain Standard Time, not Mountain Daylight Time. I didn't know this and so I'd been running an hour early for a while. This was great - it meant one more hour of cooler morning riding before the heat got too bad.

Sara, the consummate hostess, made us some eggs and toast (I have eaten an entire chicken coop of eggs on this trip - they make such a good, lasting breakfast - and my cholesterol is probably off the scale) and Patrick proved what a great dad he is:

[Doesn't that just melt your heart?]

I took the opportunity for a couple more photos around the Dial estate...

[The pool with TWO waterfalls.]

[Chairs for big kids and small. They'll have to get another one pretty soon.]

...then departed for Lake Havasu. Of course it took about an hour to get out of Phoenix. I chose the road less traveled (as usual) and this time it made all the difference time-wise. Lots of lights. But eventually the highway opened up and I dove in.

Once again it was hot. It was probably 9 o'clock and already the thermometer was reading in the low nineties. Of course the sun was shining on it this time (the designers, in their wisdom, made the sensor black), but perhaps that's a more realistic assessment considering I was wearing a black helmet.

Fortunately today my mileage would be much less. My plan was to make it to Lake Havasu City by about 1 pm, which I did. But what a broil! The thermometer peaked out about 128 while I was on the road. I kept it down to 80, and when the gauge passed 110 I backed off to 75 mph. I stopped four times to down bottles of water and, at the last stop in Parker, I asked the clerk if I could park my helmet in the cooler for a few minutes. While I was waiting I asked about accommodations at Havasu City. She suggested it would be pretty booked up - their busiest weekend of the year. I started getting nervous. What if I couldn't find a place to stay in this heat?

But as luck would have it, the first place I tried (Ramada) had space and I got a 10% Triple-A discount to boot. And so I holed up with a book and this website through the heat of the day. As I was unloading the bike I looked at the thermometer and it was reading 138. The next time out the LCD display had quit altogether. I popped into the Ramada restaurant for a bite to eat but they were minutes from closing. I begged and pleaded and Jo, the hostess, was kind enough to let me order a burger to go. She and her husband had just bought a new Kawasaki Vulcan (cruiser) a month ago and already it was in the shop with transmission problems. To add insult to injury, while I was waiting she called her husband and her new Dodge truck had just broken down while he was driving to check on the bike! I suggested the bike was cursed - maybe she'll go for a BMW next time...

I'd finally recovered enough by 6:30 to step out for a swim. At the pool I met a couple from Kentucky, on their way to visit his relatives outside LA. They were putting in long days driving the van, sleeping in the back at rest stops. But she had to stay in a hotel just one night - time on the road can be pretty wearing (as well I know).

After the swim - deeply rejuvenating - I headed out to find some food. I quickly found Lake Havasu City's claim to international fame - London Bridge. Apparently some developer bought London Bridge from London, dismantled it, moved it here and set it up. I don't know if that's cool or cheesy. Or both. It is Arizona's second biggest tourist attraction, after the Grand Canyon.

Across the bridge I found a great brewery/restaurant and managed to get a little salmon in me (a relief after all the road food), then popped into the bar for a martini before I turned in. There I met Levi, 21, a lifelong resident of Havasu City. Levi was outspoken about the merits of this place - great weather, the lake, basically like living in a Jimmy Buffett song. He's headed for the army (Airborne is his hope), following in the footsteps of his dad.

Incidentally, his dad has "the coolest backyard in the hottest place in the country" - pool, palm trees with a hammock slung over the pool, stone archway, big steps with coins set in them. He promised to give me tour if I'm ever back this way. Levi's sister, Anitra, tends bar here. She was running pretty ragged (with worse to come this weekend - the town's busiest of the year) but she stopped long enough for a picture:

And now back in the cool cool room, and early to bed. My plan is to get up at 4 tomorrow, be on the road at 5 and through the Mojave Desert before the real heat hits. G'night.

DAY 14 - May 25, 2001
400 miles
Total miles: 3792

Okay, I didn't make it on the road 'til 5:45 - close enough. The as I started out from Lake Havasu City the sun was just beginning to creep over the mountains - the first time I've ridden at sunrise and very inspirational. Despite not sleeping too soundly last night I felt great - I was excited about getting to the coast, about seeing my cousins and about beating the heat along the way. My plan was to make it to Barstow before breakfast (well, unless you count hotel coffee and a Balance Bar as breakfast). I crossed over into California at Needles, about 30 minutes after I started.