The smart thing to do would have been to emulate the Lynchs, and travel by the cool of the night across the desert. It's not that I'm not smart, it's more that I'm a creature of habit, and am loathe to change the way I do things without a compelling reason, and heat isn't compelling enough.

So the temperature was already approaching 90 when I pulled away from the motel at 0840, and that was only a harbinger of the day.

I was OK with the low speed limits through the Prescott NF and even the switchbacks down into Congress, I just slowed mentally, and got into the rhythm of it. And when I did catch up to slower traffic a couple of times, they pulled over as soon as possible, and let me by.

That blast across US60 to I-10 was pretty miserable, as was the run into Blythe. When the temperature's above 100, it's a blowtorch, and even gets through the insulated Aerostich. I normally ride with my faceshield open, but it's cooler closed.

I stopped for fuel where SR78 intersects I-10; there was a family convoy blocking three of the four pumps. I don't know what they were doing there, but they didn't seem to be pumping gas, and there didn't seem to be enough of them to fill the three cars. I waited behind one for a while, then moved to the last pump where a local finally finished filling his truck and a five-gallon can. After I filled my tank, took a bathroom break, broke out my neck towel and refilled my water bladder, the same three cars were still blocking the same three pumps, and still not doing much of anything else.

The temperature was marginally cooler adjacent to the river, but it didn't last. Across the dunes to Glamis, where I was held up for a minute by a train--first time for that; then across more dunes to the detour around Brawley and the 'border' checkpoint at the 86/78 intersection. They waved me through this time, perhaps they felt sorry for me in the heat.

Through the Anza-Borrego Desert, where I sucked the last of the water out of the tank bag, and imagined it was a bit cooler. Up Banner Grade, where it actually was cooler, onto Wynola Rd. A little red Kia pulled out in front of me at Farmer Rd, and poked along for a half mile or so with me on his tail; he actually pulled over and let me by as soon as he found a place.

Then some more familiar roads, and home before 1600, where I didn't have to find a motel or a grocery store, but was greeted by Susan and a cat.

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