Norskie's Blog

Day 4: California to Arizona

Another days starts at dawn. For some reason I slept very well ... I don't recall waking up during the night at all. When I finally woke, it was light out, and I was afraid I had overslept. No fear, it was 5am, and in short order I had made coffee and a steaming bowl of oatmeal. The whole time the sun was slowly rising over the mountains in the east, gradually lighting the Sierra Nevadas. Shortly I was in the sunlight too, and then in the saddle.

After I left Indpendence I got to Lone Pine and finally got my pancakes. Yippee! From information on the menu the Whitney Restaurant, I gleaned that Lone Pine and it's environs have been used in many western movies - it certainly looks the part. After breakfast, I got gas and extra water. Into Death Valley I go.

What can I say ... the Valley is awesome! While it is known for it's heat and being 200 feet below sea level, it was the ride into the valley that really got my attention. First the road undulates between 4000 and 5000 feet, dropping to 3000 feet in Panamint Springs. The terrain is deserty, a rocky/sandy soil with sparse sagebrushes. From Panamint Springs (which appears to be a resort) the road climbs once again. The views are astounding. The dark treeless mountains tower above on both sides and the long sight lines help underscore just how big they are. They're quite amazing. Every so often there are huge water containers, about the size of locomotives. Signs indicate they're for radiator coolant. There are also Call Boxes every couple miles, which, I presume, contain telephones (I actually see them all over California, it's just that they seem most fitting here). Once I reach the little town of Stovepipe I realize I have no sunblock, and my neck is exposed, so I stop and pick up a tube of it and some additional water. My total was $6.66 - somehow fitting considering the location. There are other tourists about too, and it looks like they're getting ready to hike. The little shop sells T-Shirts emblazoned with "Hike Or Die" and since the temperature is already 84F at 10am I'm thinking it should say "Hike And/Or Die". Continuing on through the valley proper there some sand dunes but most of the valley is that sagebrush kind of desert. Mountains still tower on both sides, and there are a couple more resorts out here. I couldn't imagine the pioneers and the dust-bowl migrations coming through here in their wagons and old jalopies. I stopped at Zibiriskie Point and chatted with a senior citizen who was travelling across the country with her husband, all the way from Virginia. She said they on their way to the Grand Tetons, and making one last swing through the southwest, while they still could.

After leaving the valley I continued south and passed up the chance to pay $3.34/gallon for premium gas and elected the more 'reasonable' price of $2.89 in Shoshone. By now the elevation had climbed back to about 5000 feet and traffic was still at a minimum. The roads are straightening as I head toward Baker but the scenery is no less grand. With the straight roads and no traffic and sight lines measured in tens of miles, I'm able to wick it up to 80 mph, but I'm still careful in the corners because sand blows across them once in a while.

In Baker I am feeling the hunger pangs, and I'm in the southwest, and have to choose: Mexican or Greek? Mexican it is. Yummy. Authentic. From here I continued through the Mojave National Preserve. I don't see any cacti, just Joshua Trees and sage. The Mojave has some very impressive mountains, and once again I increase my speed. Kelso arrives promptly. There is a grand villa here, but stupid me forget to get a photo. It is being restored by the national park service. It used to be a train depot, with it's reliable source of water the trains would fill up before steaming up the 2000-foot grade to Cima. In the process they made this into a stopping place and bar for train passengers and local citizens (of which there is no sign). When coal locomotives took over, Kelso wasn't needed anymore, and in the 1930's passenger service to the station stopped. Now it's just sand.

I exit the Mojave in the south and hit the interstate (I forget which) and see a sign "Joshua Tree National Park: 68 Miles". I'm tempted to check it out, being this close to it. However, according to my GPS and navigation software there's nowhere to get gas, and I have about 75 miles left on my tank. I figured it's 30 miles to the next gas station (away from JTNP) so it will add at least two hours getting there, and it'll put me further south than I planned, so I skip the park. Oh well .. I've already seen Joshua Trees anyway.

Into Arizona I go. And it gets hotter. Instead of stopping for the night in Needles (it's only 3pm) I decided to try to get to the Grand Canyon. I'm ahead of schedule, so why not.

Motorcycle tires have a round profile to them, and if the rider doesn't corner much they often develop a flat spot. In the midwest it is very common to see rear tires with near-new tread depth at the edges and completely bald in the middle. Eventually the tire manufacturers starting making dual-compound tires, where the center tread is harder while the edges are softer. The tradeoff is that harder rubber has less grip. Tourers (like Gold Wings) and Cruisers (Harley Davidson) don't demand as much grip from their tires as sportbikes do, nor are tourers and cruisers physically able to lean far enough to actually use the edges of the tires, so their tire profiles are not as round and the whole tire is made of a harder, less grippy, compound. A week prior to this trip I had new tires put on which were supposed to resist squaring off yet still offer great mileage and grip in both dry and wet conditions. After leaving the Mojave desert the sidewind was so strong that I was riding at a consistent 10% angle leaning into it. Instead of squaring off this tire, it's clear that I would be 'angling' it instead!

A few miles down the Interstate I see signs for Route 66. Hm. I have time, and this headwind is beating me up. Following the old route sounds like a good idea. I start along a slow road with lots of flash-flood signs and notice that the road dips correspond with the washes, and some of the washes have names, like the Sacramento Wash. Interesting. It appears that the road was designed to be submerged, and impassable, when it rains. I bet the main roads have bridges.

As I continue through a little town called Oatman I see a Silver Dollar bar. Hm, I wonder if that's the bar my brother, who used to live in Vegas, suggested that I get a steak at. I'm still satisfied from my chimichanga a few hours ago, so I keep riding. Here Route 66 passes through BLM land and it's one of the worst roads I've been on. Sure, it's twisty and windy, but it's also very bumpy, rough, and has more tar snakes on it than any other road I've ever seen. At least it's scenic, is better than the interstate, and has some historic value.

As 66 meanders along, it passes old homes and trailers that remind me of the movie 'Kalifornia' starring Brad Pitt and Juliette Lewis. In other words, it's kind of dumpy. I've since seen that much of Arizona and New Mexico, especially the outskirts of towns, are like this. Large lots (10+ acres) with some very bad looking trailers. And I don't mean mobile homes (although there are some) but camping trailers that are now too dilapidated to roll. Maybe they float in a flash flood.

Route 66 passes through a tourist trap similar to Keystone and Custer, South Dakota. Lots of cafe's, little shops, bars, etc. with a western theme. And there are wild burro's walking around. Quite interesting.

Leaving town I get into the mountains. This would be a glorious sportbike road if it wasn't in such bad shape (and apparently Arizona decided that the statutory speed be the same as the recommended speed). No matter, it's only 41 miles long and the scenery is still outstanding. No trees, but lots of interesting rock formations. There's even an operating gold mine and non-operating gas station.

Eventually I pass through Kingman and the Route 66 roadside attractions continue, this time in the form of cheap hotels, with residents hanging on balconies. It's still too early to stop riding so I keep going. Leaving town 66 becomes a nice two-lane road that's well-kept and smooth, and with it's 65mph limit must not be on BLM land. I twist the throttle and fly down it at 90mph. Oh yeah, have I told you that I've not seen many police in Arizona?

My GPS doesn't show 66 continuing anywhere, but signs indicate "168 Miles to Grand Canyon". Since I only have about 100 miles left on my tank I need to get gas soon or turn back and get some. At 40 miles I have passed a couple small towns without gas, and reached Truxton, which has gas, but it's the old-school pump without a credit card reader and they're closed on Sunday's. Dang. Well, it's getting about time to stop and there's a small hotel across the road ..."Closed". Dang. Nothing to do but turn around and go. 40 miles later I arrive at a gas station and get myself gas. They have an RV park with tent sites, but the manager said they've killed a couple green-somethinged rattlesnakes there so they won't dare let tent campers stay. "By the way, where does 66 go?" I ask. "Oh, it goes to Seligman on I-40, about 65 miles long". Hm. That tells me I should have followed it. Well, I take it again, this time colder and darker and faster. It passes through an Indian reservation after Truxton so I slow down there, not wanting to learn about tribal justice. I pass the Grand Canyon Caverns too, and now it's dark. When I finally arrive in Seligman I see signs for a KOA ....whew.... But it's cold (about 48F), as is typical for the high desert, and the local hotel looks inviting. Hm, $30 for KOA or $50 for motel? I chose the motel, and punished myself by eating a vegetarian MRE (a military ration, Meal Ready To Eat). I tastes pretty good ... I enjoy MRE's so it's not much of a punishment. This one had vegetarian pasta in tomato sauce, and I saved the rest (pineapple, crackers, peanut butter) for later. Shower and sleep.