22 September 2011

I wasn't in much of a hurry to leave the Sacketts' hospitality; I was going to take two days to return home, on a pretty direct route. (By this point in a journey, 'wandering' gives way 'getting home.') So we had a leisurely breakfast of bacon & eggs, and toast, and juice, and (still relatively fresh, because I roasted at Xavier's) coffee.

But eventually I started hauling all my 'stuff' out into a gorgeous morning and packing the bike. Once everything was secured, I waved goodbye to Dick and Louise, and picked my way down the gravel road to 180, where there was a parked BMW with trailer attached, a couple aboard. "Bet you know Dick..." "Yup." (Conversations are minimal with earplugs in.) Said 'so long' and headed west.

The air was crisp, and the low sun created textures on the scenery missing later in the day when it's directly overhead. Northwest on 180 to SR78, play along those curves through Mule Creek down to US191; approaching that intersection, the huge Morenci mine is visible to the north.

I didn't really need fuel yet at Safford, but the San Carlos Indian Reservation takes up much of the landscape past there, and services are pretty much non-existent. I'm thinking I'll need another stop before the day's over, but what are you going to do?

After negotiating the hell that is Globe, there's signs of recent road construction, and once into Superior, they're working on US60 and there's a detour though less-traveled city streets; and just as I get back to 60, I catch the tail-end of a pilot car-led procession through the one-lane portion. Good thing, because the day has heated up to the upper 90s and I'm loathe to stop.

A few more miles of twisties, and I'm on the straight approach to the Phoenix megalopolis. There's no good way through here; fortunately it's just after noon, and traffic is about as light as it ever is. I take the loop roads north, then west, to hook up again with US60.

Northwest into Wickenburg, my planned stop for the day. I'm on 'reserve' and the RTE is showing 27; might as well fill up so I don't have to in the morning. As I pull out of the Chevron station, right there is the Super 8 I was heading for. Schmoozing with the receptionist garners me a price a couple of bucks lower than the AAA one (she'd never heard of a 'walk-away' rate), so I'm satisfied.

After I cool down a bit, I walk ~half mile to the nearest grocery store for dinner fixings, and spend the rest of the day re-hydrating and reading.

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