I'm running late (of course); heading out (as soon as I get packed up) on a summer sojourn.
I turn 70 in a few weeks, and thus feel somewhat obligated to do a "Four Corners Tour" to celebrate(?). On all my previous ones, I've started in San Ysidro, and finished on the east coast; to shake things up a bit, this time the clock will start in Madawaska and I'll finish in San Diego.
29
June 2017
An artifact of running late is poor route planning. I did some, but it mostly consisted of picking several destinations at varying distances along my projected track. Since there is no good (read 'fun') way to escape from San Diego, and I've ridden all the 'interesting' roads many times, freeways make some sense.
It was after 11 by the time everything was packed on the bike-I spent an inordinate amount of time looking for the clipboard with my checklist on it. I was pretty confident I had everything, but Maine is not the place to discover that I'm missing the tripod. (I have a small spare.)
So finally, east on I-8, enjoying the nice weather. I didn't bother to fill up before I left, reasoning that a short shake-down was in order. But East County fuel tends to be dear, definitely the case at the Golden Acorn Casino station--plus, it's a pain to get in and out of. But that was the most reasonable place to stop, particularly since my 'spare' bottle was still empty. I didn't fill it there, either--the vapor recovery boot on California pumps makes it difficult to precisely meter out gas.
And there's road construction on I-8 through the mountains, single lane, moving at the pace of the slowest user. By the time we got to the bottom, though, at least it was nice and hot! I started sucking water... And stopped at the rest stop west of El Centro to wet down my neck towel and headskin for some 'air conditioning,' which helped for a while.
The next opportunity to do that was at the rest stop between the lanes in the middle of the dunes--a miserable place, with dirt parking and chemical toilets that absolutely reek, even with the doors all closed, possibly exacerbated by the fact that there was a pump truck sucking them out, stirring it up. All I did there was wet down my neck towel and stretch my legs on the walk from and to my bike.
Through Yuma, past Wellton and Tacna, looking forward to stopping for a bit of rest and more fuel at Dateland. Fueled up, and moved the bike over to park near the store, but...forgot to put the sidestand down, and over it went. Couldn't pick it up, either, even after taking the Big Green Bag off the back. I know the technique--in gear, turn the handlebar, grab that and under the seat, crouch, and back up. It just wouldn't move. Grabbed a handy Good Samaritan, and with his help, righted it. Saw a knob of something on the ground, picked it up and looked at it, but it didn't look like anything I recognized, so threw it in the trash. Went into the store and refilled my water bladder, wet down the various cloths, and got suited back up. Went to start the bike, and the clutch felt...weird. Yup, the knob at the end had broken off. Still works, though.
I'm miserable enough, and disheartened enough that I considered calling it a day in Gila Bend. But I decided that the lack of decent groceries, the lousy selection of motels (The Space Age Inn notwithstanding), and the fact that it was only four o'clock meant I should push on.
Up 85 into the Phoenix megalopolis, where traffic on I-10 seemed reasonable, eastbound. Until I got to the "go-outa" part, where even the HOV lane was stop-and-go. (There are apparently no defined exit/entrance points; the lane was variously defined by two wide white lines or a single even wider one, and cars crossed them willy-nilly.) And I saw a biker sneak past a couple of cars on that line, although I didn't try it myself--lane splitting isn't legal in AZ.
Eventually traffic got better, just in time for me to get out of it and to the Super 8 I'd identified as my (closest) destination. (The others being in Payson and Show Low.)
Not the finest in the chain--uses key cards, but mine had the room number written on it, creaky floors, and no breakfast. But the A/C works, and there's a refrigerator and a microwave. A half-mile walk to Albertson's took care of provisioning (fresh corn on the cob, 10¢ an ear, had me recalling 'grilled' San Diego Fair corn @ $4--and this was better, even without butter).
Somebody wanted me to report costs, so:
Motel: $68.40
Groceries: $15.66
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