6/6/00
Tucson, AZ
Mileage 104.7 miles
Max. 29 mph
Avg. 12.9 mph

The prospect of riding off the freeway--the first time since day one–pushed me up and out early. The complimentary breakfast at my motel gave me a good start with lots of juice and toast. I managed to smuggle two pieces of toast into my bag for later in the day. At a truck stop, I topped off the air in my tires--my hand pump isn't designed to push the pressure beyond 40 lbs. If I'm careful not to blow the tube, the high pressure air at truck refueling stations is perfect for my 100 psi tires.

US60 south turned out to be a busy four lane. Just before the on ramp, I passed a local motorcycle cop, not a CHP. He said something as I passed so I stopped. He asked a few questions about the bike. I explained the trek and that I was Tucson bound on the freeway. He said bicycles were prohibited. I asked about alternate routes and it turned out that the frontage road along side the freeway ended in a few miles. Wondering what I might do, I asked what would happen if I was to ignore the law and to go on the shoulder at this exit. I figured that since he wasn't CHP he wouldn't have jurisdiction over the freeway. Behind me a truck passed with a hole in its muffler and his gaze followed it as if I wasn't there. He said, "I'm only catching speeders this morning." That remark meant that the freeway was his turf and that he was going to look the other way. I said, "See ya and have a good day," and rode off up the ramp. I heard him call out, "Ride safe!"

I needed that well wish because while the road had a shoulder in places, side railings especially on the bridges forced me onto the roadway. Trucks and cars passed at high speed and US60 felt more dangerous than I10. I was glad to get off at Florence Junction where I had a sandwich at the solitary gas station. US79 south to Tucson turned out to be a much gentler and kinder road.

Florence was the next and last stop before a 42 mile stretch with no water, no facilities. It's a prison town with a welcome comprised of coils of glistening razor wire strung along 20' high chainlink fences and signs warning not to pick up hitch hikers. I felt a little odd being a stranger with no car, as if I might need careful watching.

For the third time so far on the trek, I filled both one quart squeeze bottles and the half gallon bladder. I would need the whole gallon plus a topped off stomach to cover the distance between Forence and Oracle. No facilities showed on my map and the temperature registered 110 degrees in the shade just as it had the days before.

Release from the tyranny of traffic allowed the desert panorama to capture my attention. I was out of phone range too so I turned it off. Every where I looked something was interesting: jack rabbits, Palo Verde trees, an open sky dotted with a few puffy clouds, armies of Seguaro cactus standing like cavalry and yucca like foot soldiers, prickley pear, isolated RV parks plunked down in the middle of nowhere blistered in the heat. What a joy to be in the middle of so much going on!

After 20 miles or so I came upon a roadside rest dedicated to Tom Mix. He was a 1930s cowboy movie star who died on that road in 1940 according to plaque in his honor. Later I saw a sign saying, "Tom Mix Memorial highway".

Over the course of the entire day I was climbing gradually until about 30 miles from Tucson. The ten miles north of Oracle Junction were made up of high rollers with leg burning climbs. The heat and 70 miles on the bike helped convince me to take a long stop at the Las Flores restaurant.

As I leaned my bike against a column supporting a shed roof over the entrance where several tables and chairs stood empty and in disarray, a waitress seemed to jump out and ask if I was coming in. I suppose bikers or some other travelers have sat at their tables without ordering anything.

I went in and ordered a quesidilla and ice tea. The waitress talked to me quietly while she stayed busy. Her husband was the chef. She was spelling the regular waitress. Evidently her boss was not easy to work for because she complained about him several times as he sat nearby.

Another reason I had for stopping was a stiff head wind. At the junction of US79 with US77, the wind piled up against the mountains just north of Tuscon and channeled north against me. Another motive to stop was the hope they would die out.

Instead, the wind seemed stronger when I got back on the road. Hot and tired despite the rest, I prepared for a struggle into Tucson. Several miles down the road though all the climbing of the day unraveled and I enjoyed downhill nearly all of the 27 miles into Tucson.

Wouldn't you know that after a difficult day I would encounter a motel-Nazi manager. Within minutes of my arrival we were into it over the registration form, whether I could take my bike into the room, the fact that I had no car, and other nonsense. I had arranged for a package (restored Palm) to be delivered at the motel, otherwise, I would have hiked next door to another place.

I went to bed knowing I would not ride tomorrow. I was not particularly tired or burned out but since the overall pace was high, I thought it prudent to take some time off.