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Published: August 7th 2014
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Did man really land on the moon? Who really assassinated JFK? Is the overabundance of border patrol really necessary?
Random questions you may think? During our ride from Yuma to Tucson along routes 8, 85 and 86, I put a considerable amount of energy into trying to sort out the answer to the last question mostly, and the issues surrounding the complexities of border control and patrol in this area. I wondered:
Why is it we routinely passed white border control pickup trucks, decaled with identifiable green markings smothered with an overabundance of radio antennae, every four to five minutes with alarmingly precise regularity?
Why have we passed through two dog-sniffing inspection stations east bound in a stretch of less than 50 miles on the same highway?
Why were we detoured around two westbound border checks which boasted no less than 40 cameras recording our every move and sound?
What are all the white huts scattered in and among the desert?
What are the white barrier-type structures strewn ad hoc beside the road?
How far does the 10 foot solid fence run along the Mexican border?
I couldn’t help but ponder the scale
of the issue of illegal entry and drug smuggling into the US from Mexico. Enough so that it prompted me to research it tonight via the internet. I won’t go into the details, you can look for yourselves. But it definitely affected my attitude earlier that, I will admit, was a little flippant at times, because it’s not like you see hoards of illegals running through the desert fearful that a white truck or dog might pounce on them. Ignorant maybe, but what then are all the trucks looking for? The facts, if you believe what you read on the internet, are staggering, and truly, how can you believe that white trucks driving back and forth are effective in getting the problem under control? It’s a heavy debate, certainly not one for further discussion in a lighthearted blog like ours. If I am to be honest, I will admit to having some trepidation about riding south from Palm Springs towards Calexico, and thereafter riding along the border and through all the checkpoints. The patrol presence would set anyone on edge. However, that eased up considerably when we entered our first dog sniffer checkpoint on route 8. All vehicles were being
stopped for sufficient time to allow questions by an officer and a good sniff by a well trained, excitable Alsation who voluntarily jumped up the sides and trunks of the vehicle, tail wagging, clearly loving his job. Crap, it’s my turn, and my first preparatory thought was plant both feet when you stop so that the dog doesn’t bowl you over! Surprisingly, the officer waved us both straight through without stopping and the dog stayed well clear. OK so let’s imagine the scenario from a dog’s two foot high perspective: what canine in its right mind would approach two overclad, hot, sweaty, smelly helmeted human beings riding odd contraptions in 41 degree heat? Oh, silly me, it probably had us on its olfactory radar a mile ago. Pass through, miss.
Lightening up then, the ride to Tucson while long was also pleasant some of the time! One highlight was screeching to a stop along highway 8 upon reading an in-your-face billboard that shouted ”It’s a great place to get off”. Easy tiger, we’re merely talking about Dateland, Arizona. Here you can get everything date related, and I refer to the edible kind. Date icecream, date cake, date cookies, date
sandwiches, date face cream, and predominantly the World Famous Date Shake. Well then, we must share one for the road. HOLY HANNAH POP A WHEELIE SUGAR HIGH! Let’s go let’s go let’s go! Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh baby! I don’t know if the next hour of vibration came from the bike or my innards. No, we need not explore that any further…. Maybe this is what they feed the sniffer Alsations?
We took a short reprieve from the bikes in Ajo, Arizona, a tiny tidy little town on route 85, which boasted more “Get your Mexican travel and auto insurance here” outlets than Sidney boasts coffee shops. Turning left shortly past town onto route 86, we’re again heading east towards Tucson, riding through the Tohono O’Odham Indian Reservation. This is also Organ Pipe Cacti central. It’s a pretty barren landscape otherwise. With the exception of patrol vehicles, traffic was non-existent along the meandering route, a welcome treat.
And so we are finally into Tucson. From the small area we’ve seen of this city, we really love it. We are staying a lame hotel called ALoft. False advertising fiasco? If anyone has been to Schiphol, Amsterdam and seen
the Citizen M hotel (Emma, are you reading this?!), this hotel is a poor attempt at cloning the Citizen M’s successful European model. At first glance, you see a boldly lit and furnished lobby, accompanied by acoustic techno music and a well stocked ultra nouveau glass bar beckoning you in the background. The elevator subdues you with dim coloured mood lighting and seductive music, the rainbow cloth lined hallways further entices you to your room, where sadly the foreplay ends and the anti-climax leaves you unfulfilled. It’s a think-outside-of-the-box design attempt that falls short: Toilet and glass shower separated from the sink and room by a sliding opaque glass door, the keyword being opaque. Close the slider and it hits the light switch and leaves you in semi darkness. One ply toilet paper. Seriously? A separate sink below which is the fridge that you stub your toes on each time you brush your teeth. Where’s the hand towel? It’s in a logical place of course – on the metal rack hanging over the toilet (very distasteful in itself). Retrieve hand towel but then there’s no place to hang it by the sink. Groan. Coffee sachets wrapped in burlap sacks, which
you then brew in the cheapest smallest coffeepot that spits all over the floor when it brews and spills when it pours. Curtain-cloaked closet just large enough for two jackets. Fake cork headboards (yes, they’re plastic). Retro clock that is yellowing with age, and whose hands you can’t see in the middle of the night when it’s dark. Unfinished taped drywall ceiling. The pool was closed yesterday, and the “Re:Fuel Early-Edition” breakfast – well, we’d have been better off with an Egg McMuffin. The only great thing about this place is its location next to the University of Arizona, and the view of the foothills from our window on the 7
th floor.
Three blocks away is a brand new trolley that takes you into downtown, 6 km away, on a day pass costing $4. It’s a great service with trolleys coming every 20 minutes. It’s more like a slo-mo commuter train that winds it’s way through the university district into downtown. What a happening place. We went downtown both nights for dinner, and it reminded us of Soho New York. The area is alive, energetic and safe. Maybe that’s due to the prevalence of police officers walking around, hopping
on and off the train. Boutiques are intermingled with pubs, eateries, theatres, and coffee shops. There is no shortage. Walking home late at night was never an issue, and we are glad to have stopped in here.
The other highlight of Tucson is the Pima Aviation Museum – in reality, it’s a military aviation museum. We spent most of the day there, walking around several hangars looking at aircraft, and also taking two narrated tours: a tram tour around the museum grounds where you can see all kinds of different flying machines, and then a narrated bus tour across the street to the Boneyard, where 4,000 aircraft are stored either for repair for future flying, or parts and then scrapping. It’s a massive field and the scale of the operation blows your mind. I’ve never seen so many fighter jets, bombers and support aircraft in one place. Anyway, it was a great day and we were on overload by the time we left.
To wrap up today’s eclectic ramblings, this highway billboard sign grabbed my attention this morning and rang true for us in this moment in time:
“Algun Dia es Hoy” Simply translated, it means:
“Someday is Today”
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Arizona
We enjoy reading about your trips.