Bike Tour: This is Kind of Funny!

So, not to discount the climbing and the wind and the heavy load, and my general lack of training, but I found something out today. I took the touring bike out on a ride with Joan today and kept struggling to keep up with her. I mean, struggling. Sure, there are times when she gives me a run for my money, but unless I'm having an asthma attack or some other malady, I usually don't have too much trouble keeping pace with her.

Joan mentioned hearing something rubbing, but I didn't really see anything. She said she could hear it. Nah! I looked around the front end of the bike but didn't see anything. Glanced toward the back, nothing. It's just the wind working around the packs and gear, I figured.

Well, I struggled on home and, as often is the case, I was starting to feel a lot better. Usually after about ten miles or so I get to a point where I could probably just ride forever without too much worry. Our ride today was twelve. However, as I coasted into the driveway where we were sheltered from the wind and other noises, I finally heard the noise Joan was talking about. It was definitely coming from the rear end of the bicycle. I checked it out.

There's a type of spring arm that runs up the sides of the brakes that keeps them pulled away from the rim. When you squeeze the brake lever you actually work against this spring to apply pressure against the rim with the brake pad. The spring on one side had come unclipped and the brake was squeezed shut the whole time. Now, it wasn't both sides and there was no real "clamping" like you get when you squeeze the brake, so I didn't really notice. You still have to compress the brake to really put a stop to things, so to speak. But it was causing a continual drag and had obviously been like that for some time--the brake pad is worn way down!

So, there's one more reason why my legs were so wasted last Friday--on top of all of my other obstacles I was working under a continual load from the rear brake! I at once feel a lot better about my condition last week and also kind of bummed because part of me thinks that made all the difference between finishing my tour and abandoning it. Ah well, what are ya gonna do?

Start planning the next one, I say!

(And buy a new set of brake pads....)

Bike Tour: Critter Count

OK. You do lots of weird things when you're on the road alone and trying to keep your mind off of your suffering. One of things I did this trip was keep track of critters. Mostly dead ones, that is.

On this trip I saw the following roadkill: 1 white tail deer, 4 coyotes, 4 striped skunks, 2 jack hares, 1 cottontail rabbit, 1 javalina, an unknown number of small rodents, 1 gopher snake, and 1 horned lizard.

There were a handful of vultures flying overhead (I think they were scoping me out). There were also several ravens, one of which was sitting on the side of the road and bigger than you'd expect. From a distance I wasn't sure if it was a bird or a medium-sized mammal!

At one point, just to illustrate once again how windy it was, I rode alongside and then passed (yes, I said passed!) a kestrel. In case you don't know, the kestrel (my favorite bird of prey) is America's smallest falcon. Yes, falcon. As slow as I was going the wind was making a falcon struggle even more slowly. Now that's windy!

One other guy I saw was this insect. He was about a half inch long and beautiful. He's a hemiptera of the Coreidae (family of leaf-footed bugs) called Chelinidea vittiger. He stowed away on my front pannier and let me carry him up one of the biggest hills of the day. I was going to take his picture and then eat him, just to teach him a lesson, but while I was putting the camera away he disappeared. Probably a mind reader. An incredibly lazy, opportunistic mind reader. According to Carl Olson, the University of Arizona "Bugman," it is found feeding on pads of prickly pear. If you stop and check pads around, you may notice small white spots which are the result of their feeding. Cool, huh?

Bike Tour Day 2: Pathetic loser! Quitter! Wuss! Pansy! Smart?

First of all, I want to make one thing clear: I made the right decision. You see, last night, one of the calls I made was to my friend Bob. I asked if he wouldn't mind driving my car down to find me today (remember, I left my car at his house). He said sure.

I woke up this morning and it was so cold! Again, Bob had come to the rescue. Before I left his house I mentioned that I had somehow forgotten to pack long pants of any type at all. He loaned me a pair of wind pants that really came in handy this morning. I would have been in even sadder, more shivery shape if it hadn't been for those pants. Anyway, I called Bob at 6:00 a.m. He gets off of work around 5:30. He said he wasn't doing his morning ride and would instead go home and then come down to get me. I started packing up camp, which took about an hour or so, all told. I had some almond milk and an energy bar but it didn't go down too well. I washed up, brushed my teeth, and filled up my water bottles and then mounted my trusty, overweight steed.

My ass hurt. Or my sit bones. Or whatever. You know where I'm talking about. My legs were rubbery and not very cooperative. And, wouldn't you know it, right off you have to climb a steep little incline just to leave the park. Did I mention I camped for free? Didn't feel free right then!

It was slow going but the legs were actually getting me up the hills as long as I was steady and patient. There would be no hammering today. With all of the time it took to pack up and as slow as I was going I had only made it about two miles when Bob called to say he had reached the turn off to the park. I said, "Great! Tell you waht, I'm waiting right here for you!" I was about half way up a long, arduous climb and was just fine with waiting. I got off the bike and started taking off my front packs so that the bike would fit more easily into the old BIKEBOX.

Some of the first words out of Bob's mouth were, "You're insane! I wouldn't want to ride that route on a road bike carrying nothing at all!" Even he couldn't believe how much climbing there was. He said it was exhausting just driving it and couldn't even imagine riding it--especially with all of my gear.

And that was the end of my bike tour. I obviously underestimated the climbing and the wind forecast. And I simply wasn't in any kind of shape to be doing such a ride. I hadn't really done any training to speak of and it was a bit too ambitious to just jump on the bike and expect to do well. If the weather had been good and the winds calm, it might have been a different story--especially if I had scheduled and extra day at Patagonia to rest up before the second leg of the journey.

Sunday in Tucson was dark, rainy, and cold. I had "snow" in my back yard! I am sure the weather was even worse around Tombstone and Benson and would have made for some very unpleasant riding. So, again, I made the right decision. I'll probably take some flak for "quitting," but anyone who gives me crap is more than welcome to climb aboard and have a go at it under the same conditions. Maybe then we'll talk.

Bike Tour Day 1: Brutal Winds and Relentless Climbing

I headed over to Bob's house in my car and it took just over an hour. I think I hit nearly every red light on the way. I got everything ready to travel and headed out from Bob's at 9:00 a.m. (An hour later than I had planned.)

I owe Bob a lot--for a variety of reasons, some of which will be revealed later--because he actually scouted my route from his house to the highway for me. It was a huge help. If he hadn't done that I would have had several major problems within the first five miles or so. It would have really messed me up and sent my head to Wackville.

I had heard it was going to be windy, but it wasn't so bad starting out. When you're traveling with a combined bike and gear weight of nearly a hundred pounds, wind is not your friend and that mantra just doesn't work (I often say to myself when riding "The wind is my friend. The wind is my friend." I know it's a lie, but sometimes it helps.)

The first fifteen miles were relatively uneventful. There was a little bit of climbing and a little breeze, but generally not bad. When I hit the junction of Sahuarita Road and AZ83 I really had to go to the bathroom (Thanks the the Gatorade, Bob!) so I pulled over and snuck into the scrub for some relief. Ahhh!

AZ83 was the real beginning of the trip, I think. If you've ever ridden it, or even driven it, it relentlessly climbs and climbs. Just when you think you can't climb anymore, there's another hill. In the space of about 20 miles you gain almost 3000 feet. That's quite a workout on a good day let alone a windy one. Did I say windy? Holy crap.

The winds were somewhere between 20 and 30 miles an hour. It was brutal. The grass and shrubbery along the road were all blowing sideways and it was all generally against me. When the wind picks up like that it likes to catch your bike, especially with all the packs on, and it gets real twitchy. You really have to concentrate to maintain focus and control. It's very taxing. I started stopping at the crests of the bigger climbs. At the top of one a pickup had pulled over and an older woman was standing there and watching me. She asked if I could stop and talk for a minute. I said sure. A younger man got out of the pickup. Andy and his mom were on their way to Sierra Vista with a stove for Andy's dad's kitchen. They were wondering where I was coming from. I'm sure they had hoped I would say I was coming from Calgary and was on my way to Tierra del Fuego, but what are you going to do?

Andy has friends who tour by bike. One friend did a tour from California up the Coast to Canada. Another friend was chased by a bear while touring in Alaska! Let's see, chased by a bear or heading into 30 mile an hour gusts. I'm actually going to have to think about that one and decide. It's not as easy a choice as you might think.

At the top of another hill there was a semi parked and the driver honked and got out to talk--I had stopped at the guardrail for an energy bar and a drink. He was wondering if in my travels I had seen a Hilton Ranch Road. I didn't hear him right at first (I still had ear buds in) and simply told him I wasn't very familiar with the area. We talked a bit and he told me the winds were supposed to get up to 50 miles an hour! I asked him again what the road was and when he repeated it I realized I had seen it not all that far back the other direction. I told him it was a road that headed to the east and there was a nest of cluster boxes for mail and newspapers and that it was actually signed pretty well. He was glad for the info, wished me luck, and I was on my way again.

To reiterate how windy and how much climbing there was, there were climbs where I was going between three and four miles an hour. On many of them I wasn't do much more than five or six. I saw a handful of roadies coming from Sonoita and exchanged greetings with most of them. At one point a woman on a road bike came by going the same direction as I was. We had a little chat and away she went. A while later I saw her coming back and again waved. When I was only a couple miles outside of Sonoita she came by again, this time with another woman riding with her. I figure she must have gone back to help pull her friend along. They invited me to join them for lunch at the Desert Cafe in Sonoita. I thanked them, but declined. I had already planned on stopping at the mini-mart for a rest and a snack and then I had to get on to Patagonia. The woman at the mini-mart said the wind was not supposed to quit until May (!!!) and that it's supposed to snow on Sunday! I needed the rest, but I also couldn't dilly dally because it was taking me so much longer than expected. I had already been on the road for nearly six hours and still had at least twenty miles to go (further, as it turned out).

AZ82 heads southwest from Sonoita and passes through Patagonia on its way to Nogales. On any other day it would have been a pretty welcome thing because for the first ten miles or so it pretty much goes downhill the whole way. However, after slogging my load through those winds and hills, all I could think about was having to haul my fat ass back up this relentless ten miles the next day (and I really didn't know how far it went down).

Again the wind caused me grief. On a lot of the hills I still only made it up to about ten miles an hour or so. Now, seriously, on a two-wheeled beast weighing almost a hundred pounds I should have been blasting down those hills. But, no. In fact, on the three descents where I did start to gain speed I ended up having to ride the brakes because with the wind blowing at me from every angle the bike got to be too dangerous to handle at about fifteen miles per hour. This sort of thing is not good for your psyche!

I passed through Patagonia and expected the turnoff to the State Park to be just up the road. It wasn't. I had a GPS "go to" set for the campground and I watched as the arrow first moved to point me to my right and then to point behind me. By this time I was climbing again and I was getting worried and exhausted. The sun would go down before too long and I was beginning to fear I wouldn't find the campground before dark.

Patagonia Lake Road was probably about four miles beyond where I had thought it would be. It was a rough four miles, made rougher by finding the sign at the turnoff indicating that the campground was full! It was 5:30 by this point and the sun was starting to slowly sink toward the horizon. The sign also indicated that the actual park was four miles further! At my rate that would be at least an hour of riding, unless it was mostly downhill, which I rightfully doubted.

I tried calling the park office, the number of which I had preprogrammed into my phone, and got a recording--the office closes at 5:00! I had planned on begging and pleading. Instead, my only option was to risk riding back in there to see what I could see. Worst case scenario, I would be sleeping on the side of the road. There was no way I would make it anywhere else before dark.

The road into the park was a series of steep ups and downs. The second to the last climb finished me, I think. I was about half way up it when I went too slowly or something, but whatever it was, I ended up stopped and off the bike. I had to push the bike up the rest of the hill because there was no way I was going to be able to get started on that hill. I pretty much ended up pushing up the next hill, as well.

I rolled into the park and was surprised to see how small the actual camping area is. I wandered about and didn't see any spots that looked open. I eyed a little strip of land between two spots. There was a family with a pop-up on the one spot and an RV on the other. I asked the guy from the family if he cared if I put up a small tent on that spot and he couldn't care less. He was very nice about it. In fact, while I was setting up he came over and offered me the use of an extra inflatable mattress. I have my Therma-rest so I didn't need it, but it was very nice of him.

I set my tent up first because I didn't want to do it in the dark. Every time I put my tent up it goes up a different way. I cut this corner, skip this one, etc. I think this time was the closest to the way it is supposed to be put up. I was quite surprised how well it went up--it looked good. Why didn't I take a picture? Probably because I was delirious. In fact, it turns out I didn't take a single picture at the campground. It's weird. Normally I would have taken all sorts of pictures. I guess I really was out of it.

Once the tent was up I went to the bathroom to clean up a bit and try and call Joan. There was no signal to be found at my campsite and only a questionable roaming signal at the bathrooms. I did manage to make a few phone calls, though.

While I was calling a bunch of boys came bashing their way through the park. The littlest one, about twelve or thirteen years old, had apparently been tormented by the older ones because he was in a blind rage. The older ones blockaded themselves in the bathroom while he hurled himself at the door. Then he picked up rocks and threw them at the door. I yelled at him and told him to knock it off, I was trying to make a call. He grabbed some rocks and kind of hid around the corner. When I got off the phone I got up to go into the bathroom and I said to him, "I'm going into that bathroom and if I get hit by a rock I am going to kick the ever living shit out of you. You hear me?" The next morning I saw him coming from the bathroom with his father. I said hello to the dad and the kid smiled at me like an innocent angel and said good morning.

Being on a rogue campsite I had no picnic table or anything else. I ended up taking my camp stove over to the curb by the closed visitor center in order to boil water for my lovely dehydrated dinner. I got a few odd looks, but what the hey, right? I took my food down to the boat launch because there was a light there. It was still a little on the dehydrated side when I ate it, but it wasn't all that bad. It was definitely filling and apparently what I needed. I felt a little better having eaten.

I slipped into my tent about 9:00 p.m. and did a pretty good job of slipping off to sleep despite all of the raucous groups of campers all around me. A few people almost stumbled over my tent in the dark--I'm glad they didn't! I woke up several times in the night and just rolled over or turned the other way and went back to sleep. I could tell it was really cold outside, but I was actually quite comfortable in my bag.

It was a brutally difficult day of riding but, I suppose, in the end it worked out OK. I didn't die and I camped for free. What more could you ask for?

St. Patty

Happy Saint Patrick's Day. The day Catholics, the Irish, and lovers of green beer and corned beef and cabbage recognize and honor a marginal castaway monk credited with driving snakes from Ireland--when there were never any there to start with. Cheers!

Bike Tour 2008 #01

Tomorrow morning I head out on my first bike tour of the year. I have my bike (mostly) loaded up and it's going to be like hauling a tank around southern Arizona. It's supposed to be windy tomorrow and I'm a bit concerned about that. It's bad enough that my first day is almost all uphill, but to be grinding uphill with a fully loaded touring bike against a heavy wind? That's going to take some of the fun out of the whole thing. Here's my proposed itinerary:

Day 1: I'm driving to my friend Bob's house and leaving my car there. That cuts about 35 miles off my first and last days, which is good, because otherwise those days would be over a hundred miles! As it is, the first day will be about 65 miles. I will head south on Houghton Road, turn left on Mary Ann Cleveland Way, and take that out to Colossal Cave Road. Heading south, Colossal Cave turns into Wentworth south of the I-10 Freeway. I'll take that down to Sahuarita Rd, turn east, and hook up to AZ-83. I'll take 83 south to Sonoit where 83 meets 82. Taking 82 to the southwest, I'll head toward Patagonia and to the Patagonia State Park where I will camp for the first night.

Day 2: I'll more or less reverse directions back to Sonoita, continuing on 82 to the east so that I can visit the historic ghost town of Fairbank, AZ. There is also a Presidio in the area that I am playing by ear--if the road is gravel, etc., I will probably pass on that side trip and stick with visiting Fairbank. From Fairbank I continue on to Tombstone with a night at the Stampede RV park.

Day 3: I plan on kicking around Tombstone a bit in the morning. Once I'm back on the road it is up highway 80 to the thriving metropolis of Benson, AZ. Dinner at Ruiz Mexican Restaurant and a night at the Benson KOA.

Day 4: The upside is I only have about 30 miles to ride today. The downside is that most of it is going to be along I-10! I'm not looking forward to that. I should be able to get onto the frontage road at the junction of 83, but until then I know of no route but the highway. Cross your fingers! Back to Bob's and loading it all back into the car and heading home.

Look for an update with some photos when I get home!

My Square Foot Garden

Square Foot Gardening was first developed in 1976 by Mel Bartholomew. He turned this simple concept, first into a very successful retirement and, unwittingly, an extremely successful second career with many social projects thrown in. He developed a television program that became the longest running gardening show on television and one of the longest running shows on PBS period.

After many mediocre attempts at gardening here in Tucson, I have decided to give Mel's method a try. What makes it different is that everything is arranged in one foot squares (hence the name) of six inches of a special soil mixture. It was fun piecing the box together and coming up with my "greenhouse" topper, too.

So, in a four foot square, six inch high, weed-free space I am (hopefully) going to grow and harvest tomatoes, beans, chiles, herbs, greens, mesclun, and even nasturtiums (Did you know they're good in salads?). I'll keep you posted on the progress of my experiment.

For my crop choices I tried to pick a lot of heritage plants from the southwest. I went down to The Native Seed Search (they're slogan is "Ancient Seeds for Modern Needs") to see what I could find. I found exactly what I was looking for! I picked some native herbs, a regional low-moisture tomato, and two varieties of chile. I also picked their favorite lemon basil. I'm looking forward to growing these out. The tomatoes sound especially good and are supposed to yield "hundreds" of fruits. Yum!