I put my bike on the train, then loaded it onto the front of a bus. All to get out of Greater Phoenix. The bike racks on the front of buses are a great innovation, I don't know why we don't have them in UK yet.
In the US everything is so spread out having a bike to get onto once you get off the bus makes life a lot easier. It encourages both bus and bike travel by making them both more convenient and less exhausting.
I rode for a few hours to get away from the residential areas. The scenery is quite different of to the west of Phoenix. The mountains are more solid, there are vertical cliffs and light coloured sandstone pinnacles as opposed the the giant piles of earth and loose rock that have made up the ranges until now.
The scenery was nice but the riding was not. Highway 60 is a freeway out of Phoenix with a very thin and poorly maintained shoulder which periodically disappears as the highway crosses bridges.
Overall the Phoenix valley is not a good place to be a cyclist, despite the Arizona canal cycle path, the bike carrying buses, and the really lovely people I met in the hostel, I was looking forward to not being in Phoenix anymore.
Out of town and into ranching country, I wanted to stop riding and camp up for the night, night riding on this road was not a good option.
The recession came through for me again. A vacant lot up for sale provided me with a chance to slip off the road into the Arizona desert for the night. Surrounded by the cacti and the scrub possibly for the last time in this state got me thinking about desert living.
The best way to get out of trouble in the desert is not to get into trouble in the first place. The best way to do that is to be prepared and to know what you're up against.
These once wild and hostile places have to a large extent been tamed in the modern USA, principally by the well used highways. If you know where the road is and you can get to it you can get help. If you are on the road you are onto a winner, someone will come by and the main thing is to be able to survive till they get to you.
This time of year that's easy enough it's not even really hot. Only warm, like a nice day in British summer time. A few litres of water will see you through a whole day. Shade is not essential but will make you a lot more comfortable. You are more likely to get hypothermia at night than overheated or dehydrated in the day.
In the summer it's a different ball game it reaches 50 degrees C or more. Anybody coming into the desert even in a reliable air conditioned car should tell people where they are going, know how to contact help, carry a lot of water and something to make a shade outside the car. Water, shade and wait on the road side that's all you really need these on the roads I've seen in the US.
But it wasn't always like that here. There are plenty of places in the world where people still visit or live in the desert away from well used roads. To do this you need to be self-reliant. You need to know where your water is coming from. If you don't know how and where to get it, you need to carry it with you. You also need to know how to get out or how to get rescued.
Water is life in the desert, but it is heavy. Hence limiting how much you need can help you to move around more easily. This is especially true if you don't have a vehicle. Then you really feel the weight.
Here are some of the desert living tips I've learnt so far:
1.Cover up. Loose fitting long sleeve clothes keep the sun off you and prevent excessive evaporation of sweat.
2.Wash with sand if it's there. Sand is an excellent abrasive cleaner. All your pot, pans, plates etc can be cleaned with just sand alone. Stubborn sticky residues will shift more quickly if a tiny amount of wet sand is used first, followed by a "rinse" with dry sand. You can clean yourself with sand too if you're actually mucky or oily.
3.Move early and rest in the hot part of the day. Stay in the shade when it's hot, sleep if you can. Travelling at night is a good way to conserve water and to keep warm during the cold nights. The Apache would cover vast distances at night in the desert - up to 75 miles in 24 hours day after day.
4.Drink all the water! When in dusty or gravel soil areas use small amounts water to rinse pots immediately after eating and drink the resulting mixture. Also drink the water you boiled you food in.
5.Eat food. Your body need electrolytes to maintain it's water balance and calories to cope with the extreme conditions. Salt and sugars are particularly important.
6.If things have gone wrong far from help don't ration water from the outset. Even a small amount of dehydration severely affects one's performance. Stay hydrated in the early stages when you will be making most of the crucial decisions that will most likely determine your fate.
7.Carry a straw. Dew and condensation are a lot more common than rain. But make sure the plants the dew is resting on are not poisonous. In a survival situation sleep in a tent with the fly sheet at night, if you have one. This will collect the water vapour lost in your breath as condensation on the inside of the fly. In the morning it can be collected with the straw.
8.Birds: Small seed eating birds like finches cannot survive without liquid water. They will roost by it. They drink water in the morning they fly off to look for food. They may go to water during the day but will also return to water in the evening.
9.Animal: Snakes often hibernate in the winter. At other times sleep away from where you ate. Small mammals are attracted to your food waste, then hunting snakes may accidentally stumble upon you.
Ambush predators like vipers lie in wait for their prey in areas of short cover or piles of dried leaves, look where you put your feet where there is short vegetation.
Larger animals shelter under the shade of trees and bushes in the hot part of the day, this is the most likely place to pick up ticks. Sleep away from trees and bushes at night.
Tomorrow I am leaving the true desert lands for a while as I climb up into the mountains to cross the main divide next week. The desert has been varied and interesting however I'm looking forward to a change of scene.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Scary stuff. 7/12/2009
I'm not scared of many things. I'm not scared of snakes, or scorpions or spiders or bugs. I'm not scared of mountain lions or wolves; I'm not scared of heights.
I'm not scared to travel alone nor to be alone in the wilderness in the desert or the jungle.
I'm not scared to use my judgement and trust a stranger anywhere in the world.
There are a few things I am scared of. I have been scared a lot in the last 24 hours.
I am scared of 'Big-Rig' trucks, 16 wheel juggernauts hauling tonnes of freight across the US. If one of those hits me I will die instantly, if the driver didn't see me he might not even notice as he smashed me to pieces and spread them all over the roadside.
As a vehicle passes a bike at speed it generates its own winds. Initially buffeting the cyclist , knocking him off balance then at one point the winds suck you towards the rear wheels of the passing vehicle. The bigger the vehicle, the faster it's going, the closer it is to you the more chance you're going under.
Trucks going fast and close scare the shit out of me.
I'm scared of biking on the interstate freeway.
When I ride on the interstate it feels like playing Russian roulette. Cyclists ride in the (hard) shoulder, it's our designated area. I weave my way along dodging the disintegrated truck tyres and smashed headlight glass as I go.
I am a sitting target. 3 lanes of traffic speed by at 70+ miles an hour 8 feet to my left. All it takes is for one tyre to go, one driver to fall asleep or lose control, or to drift off line whilst texting. If it happens at the wrong moment and BANG it's all over for me. My soft and brittle body spread all over that shoulder.
Biking on the interstate is like living on borrowed time, my fate is out of my hands. However if I want to make my jounrney across the southern US on a bike, at times I have to ride on it.
There are times when the interstate is the only black top road across the desert.Unlike the UK, out here there is not always a parallel road for the use of cyclists, pedestrians, horse riders, tractors and anyone else who chooses not to enjoy the dubious pleasures of motorway travel.
It is noteworthy that in California when an alternative route exists motorcyclists are also often prohibited on the interstate. Is this recognition that these places are not safe for any of us cycle travellers?
I am also scared of car drivers, especially American urban drivers.
It was different in San Diego. But since then urban drivers have a dangerous attitude towards me. Perhaps they just don't know how to deal with me. It's almost like they've never a cyclist before. I'm sure they have, they just don't like to.
In Greater Phoenix there is heavy traffic and often no lane for bikes. I don't ride close to the sidewalk. If I do that cars pretend I'm not there and pass close at high speed putting me in great danger. Instead in I occupy my lane fully. I wear a high vis-vest and ride in the middle of the lane. I block the lane and force cars to change lanes to overtake me. This is called defensive riding, it is how you are supposed to ride incidentally.
Drivers don't like cyclists . Heaven forbid I should delay them for 30 seconds by riding in a way that may just save my life. Some have deliberately and aggressively pulled in within inches of me. Some have yelled abuse at me, and generally behaved in the exact opposite way to what I have come to expect from Americans when they are not in their cars.I still am waiting for one to throw a beer bottle at me, a common occurrence I 'm been told.
It is a widely held belief that roads are for cars, not for people. Drivers have yelled at me to ride on the sidewalk. Sometimes I have done, when I've got too shaken up by the dangerous antics of drivers.
I've even ridden on the side walk past police officers- they don't seem to care. Pedestrians are an endangered species outside town centres so there's no one to hit right? Or maybe being in cars themselves police officers also believe that roads are not for bicycles.
In the USA you can turn right at a red light, so long as no one is coming from the left. As a biker in the right (slow) lane going straight at a cross roads: if you stop at a red light you are blocking the cars who would otherwise turn right. So if the lights start to change to red as you arrive the thing to do is change to the next lane so turning cars can get by. Then when the lights change pull back into the right lane. All the time avoiding all the other cars going straight on in both lanes who have not noticed you.
It pays to remember as you come up to a crossroads on a green light at 20+ mph that the cars to your right may pull out into your lane in front of you even though their light is red. They may well not see you, they are not looking for a bike.
"It's a war out there." it is often said of urban cycling the world over. In the US it's more like being under attack. It's not a war it's self-defence. There's no time to notice saddle sores or aching limbs in this adrenaline-fuelled, totally focused, fight for your life.
I'll be putting my bike on the light rail to miss the next 15 miles of urban riding on my way out of Greater Phoenix tomorrow.
I'll live to fight another day.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Notes from W. Marcopia County, Arizona. 5/12/2009
A guy I used to know was always saying, " Life is pain, and anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you something." It wasn't original thinking, I think he was quoting a film or a book, but there's some truth in it I believe.
Some days are more painful than others.
I had a terrible night's sleep on Friday night. The cold gusty wind woke me up all night long. New winds bring can herald changes in the weather. The ranch was on a flood plain and I was aware it would not be a good place to have a repeat of last week's storms.
Finally saturday morning came, I hadn't rained and I hadn't been trampled by angry cattle. I did not want to get up at all. It is cold in the desert first thing in the morning this time of year. Between freezing and 5 degrees C. Plus it was still windy, cold and windy. Rubbish.
"I hope it's not a head wind" I thought, stretching out my aching legs inside the sleeping bag.
I usually wake up when it gets light and start moving when the sun comes above the horizon about 1/2 an hour later. It's stays cold until the sun is well up in the sky, about 1 1/2 hours after you first see it.
I have a routine: I put on the down jacket I've been using as a pillow; wind up the radio; make tea and porridge; answer the call of nature; pack up the bed and change into my cold weather cycling clothes - thermals, fleece, wind proof, wooly hat under helmet.
Then it's time to load the bike and get moving. At 8am it's still too cold to wear these few clothes.
An hour after setting off the sun has usually done it's job and it's time to shed the thermals, hat and fleece for the day.
However this Saturday the sky a blanket of cloud and the sun was nowhere to be seen. To add insult to injury the icy wind that woke me up all night long was now blowing diagonally into my face, chilling my extermities.
So it continued, as I rode my hands went numb, my feet went numb, my cheeks went numb- painfully numb. The cold ate into my knees through the thin leggings. It was miserable, thouroughly miserable.
You might think the action of cycling warms you up? It would do but for the wind chill. Even on a still day a cyclist generates his own air conditioning by travelling unaturally fast through the atmosphere. On the hot days I often notice at my lunch stop that it's far hotter than it seems as I glide along at 15mph. Sometimes I take off a layer when I stop. Trouble is on a cold day you can't turn the air-con off.
It was a 60 mile day from Hope to Wickenburg, gently uphill into the wind all morning and most of the afternoon. From mile 8 to mile 36 the road was straight and empty.
Cold, hard and boring. No turns in the road, no changes in scenery, not even a sign to tell you how many miles you've done. I started to dream of Aguila, the town at mile 36. I had read of a place called Mama's Cafe which proudly proclaimed home cooking and bikers welcome.
The little milestones are what get me through. When my knees are screaming at me to stop or I'm are having to alternate which hand to hold the bars with so the tingling can subside in the other one I tell myself " Just push on to ..... it's only 5 miles, that's only 20 minutes you can have a cereal bar and a 5 minute break there- and from there it's only 20 miles to go that won't be more than 2 hours then."
Somehow it's easier to keep going if you keep succeeding in getting to little goals. The importance of morale cannot be undestimated in these suffering based endeavours.
But there were no goal posts along the road to Agulia. It was long and dull; cold and grey; uphill; painful and frankly it was not fun!
"This is shit!", I told myself , " I hate this place!", and at the time it was true. I like a challenge, even a struggle sometimes, but I don't enjoy pain and suffering- especially in the cold.
I pulled into Aguila at lunchtime. Still no sun, grey skies, 7 degrees C and windy.
I had been promising myself a treat, a meal to warm up from the inside and the outside at the same time, an excuse to sit down for an hour. Mamma's Cafe was on the way out of town. It was closed down- "For Sale by Owner" said the sign.
It reminded me once again that America really is completley bankrupt, the recession has hit here so much harder than it has at home. People are going out of business left right and centre. Houses, land, businesses are up for sale or rent or lease whatever they can get.
It's really obvious how hard the crisis has hit. It is very visible wherever you go once you get away from the oceanside communities. Homes and farms are not being maintained, empty boarded up buildings are all too common along these country backroads.
Millions are out of work.
It's really sad to see. I feel for the people, they are average people who have worked hard all their lives now thy're facing a very uncertain futures: the nouveau poor.
The "American Dream" has taken a severe blow. It is far, far worse than I imagined it would be.
I found food on the way out of town at one of the only establishments still in business. It was incredibly hard to get back out on the bike and inflict the final 25 miles on myself, but a full belly works wonders on me.
After a slog over a pass before Wickenberg the last 10 miles did actually afford some nice views and an easy down hill, going to prove that every cloud has a silver lining.
As I literally rolled into Wickenburg I was standing in the saddle to let the circulation return to my crushed loins. It had been a horrible day so I spared myself camp cooking. It was the right choice, I was rewarded with delicious food and an interesting encounter with the proprietors who gave me many small insights to life rumming a business and life in recession struck Arizona.
After dark it didn't get much colder it was the end of a day that never really came. I for one was glad to see the back of it.
Some days are more painful than others.
I had a terrible night's sleep on Friday night. The cold gusty wind woke me up all night long. New winds bring can herald changes in the weather. The ranch was on a flood plain and I was aware it would not be a good place to have a repeat of last week's storms.
Finally saturday morning came, I hadn't rained and I hadn't been trampled by angry cattle. I did not want to get up at all. It is cold in the desert first thing in the morning this time of year. Between freezing and 5 degrees C. Plus it was still windy, cold and windy. Rubbish.
"I hope it's not a head wind" I thought, stretching out my aching legs inside the sleeping bag.
I usually wake up when it gets light and start moving when the sun comes above the horizon about 1/2 an hour later. It's stays cold until the sun is well up in the sky, about 1 1/2 hours after you first see it.
I have a routine: I put on the down jacket I've been using as a pillow; wind up the radio; make tea and porridge; answer the call of nature; pack up the bed and change into my cold weather cycling clothes - thermals, fleece, wind proof, wooly hat under helmet.
Then it's time to load the bike and get moving. At 8am it's still too cold to wear these few clothes.
An hour after setting off the sun has usually done it's job and it's time to shed the thermals, hat and fleece for the day.
However this Saturday the sky a blanket of cloud and the sun was nowhere to be seen. To add insult to injury the icy wind that woke me up all night long was now blowing diagonally into my face, chilling my extermities.
So it continued, as I rode my hands went numb, my feet went numb, my cheeks went numb- painfully numb. The cold ate into my knees through the thin leggings. It was miserable, thouroughly miserable.
You might think the action of cycling warms you up? It would do but for the wind chill. Even on a still day a cyclist generates his own air conditioning by travelling unaturally fast through the atmosphere. On the hot days I often notice at my lunch stop that it's far hotter than it seems as I glide along at 15mph. Sometimes I take off a layer when I stop. Trouble is on a cold day you can't turn the air-con off.
It was a 60 mile day from Hope to Wickenburg, gently uphill into the wind all morning and most of the afternoon. From mile 8 to mile 36 the road was straight and empty.
Cold, hard and boring. No turns in the road, no changes in scenery, not even a sign to tell you how many miles you've done. I started to dream of Aguila, the town at mile 36. I had read of a place called Mama's Cafe which proudly proclaimed home cooking and bikers welcome.
The little milestones are what get me through. When my knees are screaming at me to stop or I'm are having to alternate which hand to hold the bars with so the tingling can subside in the other one I tell myself " Just push on to ..... it's only 5 miles, that's only 20 minutes you can have a cereal bar and a 5 minute break there- and from there it's only 20 miles to go that won't be more than 2 hours then."
Somehow it's easier to keep going if you keep succeeding in getting to little goals. The importance of morale cannot be undestimated in these suffering based endeavours.
But there were no goal posts along the road to Agulia. It was long and dull; cold and grey; uphill; painful and frankly it was not fun!
"This is shit!", I told myself , " I hate this place!", and at the time it was true. I like a challenge, even a struggle sometimes, but I don't enjoy pain and suffering- especially in the cold.
I pulled into Aguila at lunchtime. Still no sun, grey skies, 7 degrees C and windy.
I had been promising myself a treat, a meal to warm up from the inside and the outside at the same time, an excuse to sit down for an hour. Mamma's Cafe was on the way out of town. It was closed down- "For Sale by Owner" said the sign.
It reminded me once again that America really is completley bankrupt, the recession has hit here so much harder than it has at home. People are going out of business left right and centre. Houses, land, businesses are up for sale or rent or lease whatever they can get.
It's really obvious how hard the crisis has hit. It is very visible wherever you go once you get away from the oceanside communities. Homes and farms are not being maintained, empty boarded up buildings are all too common along these country backroads.
Millions are out of work.
It's really sad to see. I feel for the people, they are average people who have worked hard all their lives now thy're facing a very uncertain futures: the nouveau poor.
The "American Dream" has taken a severe blow. It is far, far worse than I imagined it would be.
I found food on the way out of town at one of the only establishments still in business. It was incredibly hard to get back out on the bike and inflict the final 25 miles on myself, but a full belly works wonders on me.
After a slog over a pass before Wickenberg the last 10 miles did actually afford some nice views and an easy down hill, going to prove that every cloud has a silver lining.
As I literally rolled into Wickenburg I was standing in the saddle to let the circulation return to my crushed loins. It had been a horrible day so I spared myself camp cooking. It was the right choice, I was rewarded with delicious food and an interesting encounter with the proprietors who gave me many small insights to life rumming a business and life in recession struck Arizona.
After dark it didn't get much colder it was the end of a day that never really came. I for one was glad to see the back of it.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Notes from La Paz County, Arizona. 4/12/2009
It's the end of my first day in Arizona, the start of my second night. The sun is setting, my belly is full and there's just time for a little reflection before
I curl up on the desert floor once again.
Well... what is there in Western Arizona?
Big cacti – that's what. Well over 10 feet tall and 2 foot around in places. If you think of a cactus in the Arizona Desert you're thinking of this one. They look like they are waving at you with one big spiky arm, maybe more.
As soon as you cross the Colorado river these fellows can be seen dotted about the place. It seems they don't get on too well with each other mind you. The full grown ones seldom seem to come within 50 yards of each other! Each one has staked out his claim to a patch of the dusty gravel plains.
Big cacti aside, the overall impression if the place is this is Marlboro Man country. The wide rolling plains, the crumbly far off mountain ridges, the emptiness. It's really rather nice if you have an appreciation the barren side of life.
Western Arizona may well be a desert, but it isn't the slightest bit deserted. Snowbirds flock to these drier climes each year in their thousands.
Snowbirds are migratory humans. Like me they head off to the sun for the winter each year, returning to their nesting grounds in the spring once the harsh winter conditions have passed. Unlike me they seem to be people of a certain age, past retirement age that is.
Yes the Arizona Desert is awash with old American folks. Old folks with RVs: campervans as big as British buses often towing a trailer the size of a large UK caravan behind them, or perhaps a city car for getting around once they've got down here.
The cars parked outside the little grocery stores in these temporary villages all have license plates from up north: Maine, Montana and so on. Some of their occupants maybe a little less warm towards me than the Americans I've met so far. Occasionally I've picked up on an air of suspicion or nervousness from some, never present in California.
Maybe that's just old folks attitude towards the relatively young? Not that I'm a young trouble maker though - I'm 36 for God's sake!
However I am not in a car which is not normal at all, hmm suspicious isn't it? I also have a beard....hmm....You know what they say about men with beards...hmm.....their faces stay warm on colder evenings!
The land off the roadside is fenced off again. Unobtrusive and unsigned fences this time, they do not give off the, “we'll get you if you cross this line.” message of last week. Nonetheless they are a barrier to my my wild camping plans. I am a respectful person and I don't feel comfortable deliberately climbing over peoples fences when I'm a guest in their country.
I have noticed that where there are a lot of people living in RVs for the winter, there are also a lot of fences. Maybe the fences are there to stop the Snowbirds making themselves at home on the land, thus forcing them to pay the rent and stay in the countless RV parks. These no doubt prop up the local economy and protect the rest of the desert environment from the huge influx of people who seem to come here. Fair enough really, it's a good thing.
An RV park is not my idea of a place to stay however. Imagine putting up my coffin-sized 1 man tent in a space big enough to park a double-decker bus surrounded by enormous trailers. Or just lying on a mat, on the ground (as I am now), whilst armies old folks too and fro in their city cars and SUVs. No, it doesn't seem right some how.
Tonight I slipped off the road onto a rare 4WD track signed as a public road, it was gated but you are allowed to go in. 1/2 a mile down this it was easy to walk off into the scrub cover. There's too much tinder dry wood out here to responsibly consider a fire, I can make do with my tiny gas stove.
A sign on the dirt track warned, “open ranch. watch out for cattle.” I suspect the wild cattle on a big ranch like this may not be quite like the big eyed docile milkers one might encounter back home. I do hope they don't find me in the night an tale exception to my presence. To be trampled in my sleep would be most unsatisfactory.
I curl up on the desert floor once again.
Well... what is there in Western Arizona?
Big cacti – that's what. Well over 10 feet tall and 2 foot around in places. If you think of a cactus in the Arizona Desert you're thinking of this one. They look like they are waving at you with one big spiky arm, maybe more.
As soon as you cross the Colorado river these fellows can be seen dotted about the place. It seems they don't get on too well with each other mind you. The full grown ones seldom seem to come within 50 yards of each other! Each one has staked out his claim to a patch of the dusty gravel plains.
Big cacti aside, the overall impression if the place is this is Marlboro Man country. The wide rolling plains, the crumbly far off mountain ridges, the emptiness. It's really rather nice if you have an appreciation the barren side of life.
Western Arizona may well be a desert, but it isn't the slightest bit deserted. Snowbirds flock to these drier climes each year in their thousands.
Snowbirds are migratory humans. Like me they head off to the sun for the winter each year, returning to their nesting grounds in the spring once the harsh winter conditions have passed. Unlike me they seem to be people of a certain age, past retirement age that is.
Yes the Arizona Desert is awash with old American folks. Old folks with RVs: campervans as big as British buses often towing a trailer the size of a large UK caravan behind them, or perhaps a city car for getting around once they've got down here.
The cars parked outside the little grocery stores in these temporary villages all have license plates from up north: Maine, Montana and so on. Some of their occupants maybe a little less warm towards me than the Americans I've met so far. Occasionally I've picked up on an air of suspicion or nervousness from some, never present in California.
Maybe that's just old folks attitude towards the relatively young? Not that I'm a young trouble maker though - I'm 36 for God's sake!
However I am not in a car which is not normal at all, hmm suspicious isn't it? I also have a beard....hmm....You know what they say about men with beards...hmm.....their faces stay warm on colder evenings!
The land off the roadside is fenced off again. Unobtrusive and unsigned fences this time, they do not give off the, “we'll get you if you cross this line.” message of last week. Nonetheless they are a barrier to my my wild camping plans. I am a respectful person and I don't feel comfortable deliberately climbing over peoples fences when I'm a guest in their country.
I have noticed that where there are a lot of people living in RVs for the winter, there are also a lot of fences. Maybe the fences are there to stop the Snowbirds making themselves at home on the land, thus forcing them to pay the rent and stay in the countless RV parks. These no doubt prop up the local economy and protect the rest of the desert environment from the huge influx of people who seem to come here. Fair enough really, it's a good thing.
An RV park is not my idea of a place to stay however. Imagine putting up my coffin-sized 1 man tent in a space big enough to park a double-decker bus surrounded by enormous trailers. Or just lying on a mat, on the ground (as I am now), whilst armies old folks too and fro in their city cars and SUVs. No, it doesn't seem right some how.
Tonight I slipped off the road onto a rare 4WD track signed as a public road, it was gated but you are allowed to go in. 1/2 a mile down this it was easy to walk off into the scrub cover. There's too much tinder dry wood out here to responsibly consider a fire, I can make do with my tiny gas stove.
A sign on the dirt track warned, “open ranch. watch out for cattle.” I suspect the wild cattle on a big ranch like this may not be quite like the big eyed docile milkers one might encounter back home. I do hope they don't find me in the night an tale exception to my presence. To be trampled in my sleep would be most unsatisfactory.
The moon, 3/12/2009
What is going on with the moon?
I don't mean right now but in general.
The sun is a stand up guy, dependable and reliable- he gets up in the morning goes to bed in the evening, every day without fail. He makes it all happen. You know where you are with the sun.
The moon is more of a wlld card, he seems to have a free hand to do pretty much whatever he wants. I for one never know what to expect from him.
2 days ago the moon got up as the sun went down, which was very useful as it was a full, bright moon and I could still see very well at camp. Last night I stayed in a hotel and was unable to observe it's behavior. Tonight the moon got up 2 hours after the sun set. What's it going to do tomorrow? Who knows? Not me.
I do know how to navigate using the sun - and my watch, or even with just a vague idea of what time of day it is. I thought it would be good to be able to use the moon in the same way. But so far it's not too easy.
The sun rises approximately in the east. So does the moon- it's because of the way the world spins I think.
The sun sets in the west, so does the moon. Easy enough so far.
At midday in the Northern hemisphere the sun is in the south, in the other hemisphere it's in the North. What about the moon? Halfway through it's visible arc where is it? Is this even a constant?
The solar day is longer in the summer, shorter in the winter. What about the moon? How long is the lunar day (to coin a phrase)? How long is the moon up for?
Watching the moon tonight as I write, it is moving to the south as it rises. Maybe it does go south like the sun. Maybe it's something to do with the tilt of the earth on it's axis.
It's a blue moon this month out here, I guess it is everywhere. "Blue Moon" means there are 2 full moons in one calendar month. Really no big deal it's just a rare event, a side effect of the fact that calendar months are not the same length as lunar months. The moon will not to be appear blue....shame really.
The second full moon this month is on the last night of the year incidentally. This an even more rare occourance but ultimately an irrelevant and human created coincidence. Our New Years Eve is not a significant natural turning point like the winter solstice.
I have been by myself for a while now.
I don't mean right now but in general.
The sun is a stand up guy, dependable and reliable- he gets up in the morning goes to bed in the evening, every day without fail. He makes it all happen. You know where you are with the sun.
The moon is more of a wlld card, he seems to have a free hand to do pretty much whatever he wants. I for one never know what to expect from him.
2 days ago the moon got up as the sun went down, which was very useful as it was a full, bright moon and I could still see very well at camp. Last night I stayed in a hotel and was unable to observe it's behavior. Tonight the moon got up 2 hours after the sun set. What's it going to do tomorrow? Who knows? Not me.
I do know how to navigate using the sun - and my watch, or even with just a vague idea of what time of day it is. I thought it would be good to be able to use the moon in the same way. But so far it's not too easy.
The sun rises approximately in the east. So does the moon- it's because of the way the world spins I think.
The sun sets in the west, so does the moon. Easy enough so far.
At midday in the Northern hemisphere the sun is in the south, in the other hemisphere it's in the North. What about the moon? Halfway through it's visible arc where is it? Is this even a constant?
The solar day is longer in the summer, shorter in the winter. What about the moon? How long is the lunar day (to coin a phrase)? How long is the moon up for?
Watching the moon tonight as I write, it is moving to the south as it rises. Maybe it does go south like the sun. Maybe it's something to do with the tilt of the earth on it's axis.
It's a blue moon this month out here, I guess it is everywhere. "Blue Moon" means there are 2 full moons in one calendar month. Really no big deal it's just a rare event, a side effect of the fact that calendar months are not the same length as lunar months. The moon will not to be appear blue....shame really.
The second full moon this month is on the last night of the year incidentally. This an even more rare occourance but ultimately an irrelevant and human created coincidence. Our New Years Eve is not a significant natural turning point like the winter solstice.
I have been by myself for a while now.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Life is good, 1/12/2009
Some days are great. Sometimes all the hurdles and hassels seem so worth it. Today is one of those days. I'm lying a little wooded thicket in the Senora desert with the full moon shining down on me. Looking past the bushes I can seee the mountains of Arizona across the plain where the Colorado river runs, marking the border between California and Arizona. The stars and the clouds are playing out an endlessly varied dance for me to watch. Country music is playing from my clockwork radio as I snuggle up in my down sleeping bag, down jacket and wooly hat.
I am happy.
I have sucessfully cycled across California, from the Pacific Ocean to the Colorado River.
It the perfect end to a great day's cycling. 12 hours ago I woke up on the edge of this desert, just beyond the irrigated lands of the Imperial Valley. As the sun rose over the scrub and sand I set off into the day with, fresh legs, 10 litres of water, a couple of days food and only a vague idea of what lay ahead .
What followed was the most beautiful and contrasting desert land scape I've seen so far on this continent. Those of you who don't really know the desert might not be aware that it takes a great many forms. The classic sandy dunes and ridges ae only one it's many guieses. I have been to quite a few of the worlds deserts now and they are seldom alike, each has its own distinctiveness- this is how I have come to love them so.
My day began with sandy soil dried up bushes dotted here and there with the mountain ridge I crossed 2 days ago framing the horizon 60 miles behind me. Over the first hour the slight roll of the land revealed pure white sand off to the left and right beyond the vegetation and beyond that to the north dark brown mountains, to the south rocky mountains standing like distant islands in the plains.
I was really chuffed: this was what I'd been waiting for, the antidote to the semi-inhabited, fenced off scrubland of San Diego County and the sacrificial playground desert between Ocotillo and the Imperial Valley. A proper inspirational expansive wilderness vista. I could tell straight away I was going to enjoy cycling through it.
10 miles went by and soon enough highway 78 was clinbing up the Imerial Sand Dunes which had domintated my view as I pressed on into a slight headwind.
These big yellow, rolling sand dunes are slowly advancing westwards with the prevailing winds. They provide a playground for petrol heads south of the road. The northern side being reserved for the sensitive desert wildlife. The difference is noticable, the delicate sand dune vegetation has dissappeared from the ATV side completely.
It was quite a climb to get over them but I didn't mind too much I was just soaking it all up. Then a great reward to roll down the other side.Weeeee, free miles! Happy Days.
Next up was stony desert. There's an awful lot of this stuff in the deserts of the world, sandy soil with small rocks in it. Climbing up to 1000ft+ I crossed the Chocolate Mountains which close up looked lke they were made of crumbly sandstone and dried up mud. This part if the desert is lacking in scrubby vegetation but dotted with 6 inch- foot tall cactuses. Little spiky ones with arms sticking out to the side.
The road started to descend but undulated as it went . Like a rollercoaster ride I raced down the little slopes as fast as I could hoping the momentum would take me up the the other side without having to resort to "granny" gears. Fun, fun ,fun!
Through a border patrol check point at mile 35, the guys seemed bewildered as to why I would want to bike across this and incredulous when I told then it was the most beautiful part of the US i'd seen so far! Not everyone loves empty desert and distant mountains apparently.
A couple of miles further on it was getting a bit hot, time for lunch and a cup of tea. The desert had gone all dusty and plantless just when shade was called for, then sure enough I found a lonley tree in a dried up river bed. Some days everything is going your way.
Off again, new mountains to look at, grey ones this time mixed in with the dark brown ones. More rollercoaster dips to ride.
Chipmonks live out here it would seem, they ran across the road in front of me from time to time. No more cactuses anymore and dried up brown mud seemed to be soil type of the hour. As the road turns to the north I came puffing up from a particularly deep dip to see the Colorado Valley stretch out to the East, a wide valley with a flat floor covered in lush green and yellow bushes.
At around the 50 mile mark I realised that what I was looking at to my right beyond the valley was in fact Arizona. I decided to camp where I could wake up to savour a new day and gaze at the new state I'll be camping in that night.
As if by magic the rollercoaster dropped again and a little bushy area about ½ mile wide came into view. Firewood, cover and the views I fancied,with 50 miles under my belt and 2 1/12 hours to chillout before sunset. Perfect.
Days like this make all the hotel bills; broken bikes; sore body parts and dodging juggernaughts worth while. Ironically my camera ran out of battery yesterday. Nevermind that though: Brawley California to Paulo Verde California was the best stretch so far, bring on Arizona.
On the road, Life is good.
I am happy.
I have sucessfully cycled across California, from the Pacific Ocean to the Colorado River.
It the perfect end to a great day's cycling. 12 hours ago I woke up on the edge of this desert, just beyond the irrigated lands of the Imperial Valley. As the sun rose over the scrub and sand I set off into the day with, fresh legs, 10 litres of water, a couple of days food and only a vague idea of what lay ahead .
What followed was the most beautiful and contrasting desert land scape I've seen so far on this continent. Those of you who don't really know the desert might not be aware that it takes a great many forms. The classic sandy dunes and ridges ae only one it's many guieses. I have been to quite a few of the worlds deserts now and they are seldom alike, each has its own distinctiveness- this is how I have come to love them so.
My day began with sandy soil dried up bushes dotted here and there with the mountain ridge I crossed 2 days ago framing the horizon 60 miles behind me. Over the first hour the slight roll of the land revealed pure white sand off to the left and right beyond the vegetation and beyond that to the north dark brown mountains, to the south rocky mountains standing like distant islands in the plains.
I was really chuffed: this was what I'd been waiting for, the antidote to the semi-inhabited, fenced off scrubland of San Diego County and the sacrificial playground desert between Ocotillo and the Imperial Valley. A proper inspirational expansive wilderness vista. I could tell straight away I was going to enjoy cycling through it.
10 miles went by and soon enough highway 78 was clinbing up the Imerial Sand Dunes which had domintated my view as I pressed on into a slight headwind.
These big yellow, rolling sand dunes are slowly advancing westwards with the prevailing winds. They provide a playground for petrol heads south of the road. The northern side being reserved for the sensitive desert wildlife. The difference is noticable, the delicate sand dune vegetation has dissappeared from the ATV side completely.
It was quite a climb to get over them but I didn't mind too much I was just soaking it all up. Then a great reward to roll down the other side.Weeeee, free miles! Happy Days.
Next up was stony desert. There's an awful lot of this stuff in the deserts of the world, sandy soil with small rocks in it. Climbing up to 1000ft+ I crossed the Chocolate Mountains which close up looked lke they were made of crumbly sandstone and dried up mud. This part if the desert is lacking in scrubby vegetation but dotted with 6 inch- foot tall cactuses. Little spiky ones with arms sticking out to the side.
The road started to descend but undulated as it went . Like a rollercoaster ride I raced down the little slopes as fast as I could hoping the momentum would take me up the the other side without having to resort to "granny" gears. Fun, fun ,fun!
Through a border patrol check point at mile 35, the guys seemed bewildered as to why I would want to bike across this and incredulous when I told then it was the most beautiful part of the US i'd seen so far! Not everyone loves empty desert and distant mountains apparently.
A couple of miles further on it was getting a bit hot, time for lunch and a cup of tea. The desert had gone all dusty and plantless just when shade was called for, then sure enough I found a lonley tree in a dried up river bed. Some days everything is going your way.
Off again, new mountains to look at, grey ones this time mixed in with the dark brown ones. More rollercoaster dips to ride.
Chipmonks live out here it would seem, they ran across the road in front of me from time to time. No more cactuses anymore and dried up brown mud seemed to be soil type of the hour. As the road turns to the north I came puffing up from a particularly deep dip to see the Colorado Valley stretch out to the East, a wide valley with a flat floor covered in lush green and yellow bushes.
At around the 50 mile mark I realised that what I was looking at to my right beyond the valley was in fact Arizona. I decided to camp where I could wake up to savour a new day and gaze at the new state I'll be camping in that night.
As if by magic the rollercoaster dropped again and a little bushy area about ½ mile wide came into view. Firewood, cover and the views I fancied,with 50 miles under my belt and 2 1/12 hours to chillout before sunset. Perfect.
Days like this make all the hotel bills; broken bikes; sore body parts and dodging juggernaughts worth while. Ironically my camera ran out of battery yesterday. Nevermind that though: Brawley California to Paulo Verde California was the best stretch so far, bring on Arizona.
On the road, Life is good.
Notes from Imperial County, California 31/11/2009
Well rested and very well fed I resumed my journey. I flew down the In Ko Pah Pass, hurling through the boulder filled wastelands racing down towards the Yuma Desert below. I broke the 35mph speed limit at times without even pedaling. What a thrill to lose all that height. It took me 2 hard days to get up there and now it was payback time. Oh yeah! I took less than half an hour of pure pleasure to get back down to sea level, including photo stops.
Whilst descending I had crossed the county line into Imperial County, California, a welcome change of scene. In the rain shadow of the range I've just crossed, this county is really dry. It didn't even rain there in the recent storms. Mostly it's made up of sand,cactus and dried up plants that look like they must be dead, but they are not.
It certainly wasn't empty though. It seems a lot of Californians come out into the desert for the weekend. All along the minor road from Ocotillo to El Centro were clusters of SUVs, RVs and giant trailers parked up off the highway. Meanwhile their occupants played with their toys in the sand!
Trail bikes, quad bikes, dune buggies, you name it: they were all there having a happy holiday weekend driving silly vehicles around as fast as they can. It reminded me of the United Arab Emirates actually.
After some hard days climbing I was pleased to be on the flat. No fences, no hills, expansive vistas not much traffic- fantastic.
Shortly however, along came a new challenge for the budding long distance cyclist: a strong head wind. Cycling into the wind is like riding up a hill you will never summit. It is a little bit demoralizing, especially when you still have 40 miles to go that day and you're averaging 6 miles an hour for full effort..
Still, you gotta do what you gotta do and 20 miles later I rolled into the Imperial Valley. The scenery changes from sand and scrub to fields of crops just like that. This valley is irrigated by a canal which diverts water from the Colorado river, irrigating the very fertile soil that exists in this corner of the desert. Just add water to create some of the best salad growing conditions in the whole country.
I nearly fell off my bike with surprise when I rode over the first canal full of blue/green water flowing slowly by.
The tractors are big, the fields are enormous and to be honest it a pretty boring place to ride. Cycling really gives you a sense of perspective though. In the US everything is done on a massive scale. If I'm in farmland, I'm in farmland for a long time, heck it even takes a long time to get to the next giant field at 10-15 mph.
It can be a pain or a pleasure, but where ever I am I'm fully immersed in it's atmosphere with plenty of time to take it all in or drift away into my thoughts, or both usually.
Eventually I arrived at the town of El Centro, mile 54 of the day. Ironically the towns in the incredibly fertile and productive Imperial valley are home to some of the poorest communities in California. Many of the inhabitants are Mexicans.
No sneaky campsite for me in this farming community though so I pressed on , exhausted and looking for a corner of the desert I could call home.
Unfortunately it was not to be. 7 miles up the road the pannier rack sheared off the bike. Metal fatigue was to blame I think, I have lots of stuff and the flimsy aluminium rack was pushed way beyond it's intended use.
This is one of those things I can't fix myself, although a gaffer tape bodge took me the 7 miles back to El Centro riding as if nothing was wrong. I pondered my options for a while but decided a 2 day crossing of the Colorado Desert with a bodged rack was on.
I begrudgingly spent another night in a hotel and bought a new rack the following morning.
A half day's ride took me through Brawley, another farming town, and back out onto the edge of the Sonoran Desert to camp in the wilds again.
So far I'm 1 ½ days behind schedule and $150 over budget, but who cares it's not everyday I get to ride across the Colorado Desert as I will tomorrow and the next day.
Whilst descending I had crossed the county line into Imperial County, California, a welcome change of scene. In the rain shadow of the range I've just crossed, this county is really dry. It didn't even rain there in the recent storms. Mostly it's made up of sand,cactus and dried up plants that look like they must be dead, but they are not.
It certainly wasn't empty though. It seems a lot of Californians come out into the desert for the weekend. All along the minor road from Ocotillo to El Centro were clusters of SUVs, RVs and giant trailers parked up off the highway. Meanwhile their occupants played with their toys in the sand!
Trail bikes, quad bikes, dune buggies, you name it: they were all there having a happy holiday weekend driving silly vehicles around as fast as they can. It reminded me of the United Arab Emirates actually.
After some hard days climbing I was pleased to be on the flat. No fences, no hills, expansive vistas not much traffic- fantastic.
Shortly however, along came a new challenge for the budding long distance cyclist: a strong head wind. Cycling into the wind is like riding up a hill you will never summit. It is a little bit demoralizing, especially when you still have 40 miles to go that day and you're averaging 6 miles an hour for full effort..
Still, you gotta do what you gotta do and 20 miles later I rolled into the Imperial Valley. The scenery changes from sand and scrub to fields of crops just like that. This valley is irrigated by a canal which diverts water from the Colorado river, irrigating the very fertile soil that exists in this corner of the desert. Just add water to create some of the best salad growing conditions in the whole country.
I nearly fell off my bike with surprise when I rode over the first canal full of blue/green water flowing slowly by.
The tractors are big, the fields are enormous and to be honest it a pretty boring place to ride. Cycling really gives you a sense of perspective though. In the US everything is done on a massive scale. If I'm in farmland, I'm in farmland for a long time, heck it even takes a long time to get to the next giant field at 10-15 mph.
It can be a pain or a pleasure, but where ever I am I'm fully immersed in it's atmosphere with plenty of time to take it all in or drift away into my thoughts, or both usually.
Eventually I arrived at the town of El Centro, mile 54 of the day. Ironically the towns in the incredibly fertile and productive Imperial valley are home to some of the poorest communities in California. Many of the inhabitants are Mexicans.
No sneaky campsite for me in this farming community though so I pressed on , exhausted and looking for a corner of the desert I could call home.
Unfortunately it was not to be. 7 miles up the road the pannier rack sheared off the bike. Metal fatigue was to blame I think, I have lots of stuff and the flimsy aluminium rack was pushed way beyond it's intended use.
This is one of those things I can't fix myself, although a gaffer tape bodge took me the 7 miles back to El Centro riding as if nothing was wrong. I pondered my options for a while but decided a 2 day crossing of the Colorado Desert with a bodged rack was on.
I begrudgingly spent another night in a hotel and bought a new rack the following morning.
A half day's ride took me through Brawley, another farming town, and back out onto the edge of the Sonoran Desert to camp in the wilds again.
So far I'm 1 ½ days behind schedule and $150 over budget, but who cares it's not everyday I get to ride across the Colorado Desert as I will tomorrow and the next day.
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