Apache Junction, AZ to Oak Flats Campground-just outside Superior, AZ

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Shawne says...
Day 13
Mileage Today: 34.0
Total Mileage: 547.1
Flats Today: 1
Total Flats: 16
Tubes used today: 1
Total tubes used: 3
Tires used today: 1

Packing up camp went quickly; we wanted to get out before any homeowners spotted us. We were concerned about being spotted if anyone went out on their decks to drink their morning coffee. A Chevron station was just a block away, so we stopped in for another meal of microwaved burritos. Employees and customers asked all sorts of questions as we sat at a table inside. I updated my journal as Jo scoured over the maps, refilled our water bottles with ice, and checked our tire pressure. The local police showed up and spoke to a female employee. Later we learned that a woman in her early 20's was discovered outside the station in the early hours this morning. She was crying and looked a mess. She said that she had been raped just a block away in an empty field by several men (if you can call them men). She had been partying with them the night before at a bar in Mesa, AZ. Jo and I had been camping in an empty field just one block away. We were so close to that horrific scene, yet too far away to hear and help. (Jo interrupts...Shawne spent most of the day figuring out exactly what he would have done to those guys if we'd been able to help. After planning their grisly beatings, we mused over how much damage we could have inflicted and still be protected under the Good Samaritan Law.)
It seems that the stretch of asphalt that Hwy 60 once was on the west side of Phoenix has now turned into a multi-lane freeqay. We cautiously entered and rode toward the sun. (Jo interrupts again...There was a sign that said "Bicycles Stay On Shoulder" but nearly the entire shoulder was a rumble strip. Where, exactly, were we expected to ride?) We passed a group of cars that were parked in a dirt lot off the shoulder. About six people were standing around their vehicles and waved at us. "Going to Florida?", one woman yelled. "Yes", I replied. When we were almost out of earshot, a man yelled to us, "You're gonna need some coffee and doughnuts!", and motioned us back with his hands.
"Did you hear that, Jo?", I asked as I slowed down. I told her of the man's offer, and she said, "Really? Let's go!". We dismounted our bikes and waited for traffic to clear before we flipped a U-Turn and walked our bikes back toward the group. A woman introduced the bunch as the Dons of Arizona and said they were there to perform their semi-annual volunteer roadside litter cleanup. The group had already eaten and there were plenty of pastries, coffe, juce, and ice water left over. We happily indulged in the sugary snacks (Jo says...YUMMY in my TUMMY!). We answered the same general questions about the trip. The queries turned more technical as they asked specifics about our gear. It was refreshing to give answers to some different topics. A car-load of volunteers pulled up, fresh from the roadside efforts. A young teenage girl told was holding a hand to her head and said a passing vehicle had launched a soda can at her and hit her square in the head. I thought, "I can't believe some people in this world!" This girl was selflessly picking up other people's garbage from the shoulder of the road, and that's what she gets. Some people are so mean and inconsiderate...I just don't understand. We said our 'thank-you and goodbye's and rode off. A large group of Harley-Davidson motorcycles roared past us heading East. The roadside crew had explained to us that it was visitation day at the prison in Florence. Large groups of Harley riders gather there and park along the outer perimeter of the prison yard, proudly displaying their biker gang colors so those on the inside can see their "brothers" and shout out to them. The prison brings extra law enforcement to outnumber the bikers and keep order.
Slowly the highway began to change back into a two lane road as the uphill grade increased. The wide shoulder shrank as well, causing us to rely heavily on our rearview mirrors and our ears to warn us to hug the edge of the pavement when cars approached. We dropped into first gear as we began climbing a steep grade, heading toward Boyce Thompson Arboretum State Park. The shoulder now became non-existant as the fog line reached the edge of the pavement and guardrails pushed us into the road. Our trailers were threatening to grind against the steel railings. Tight 'S' curves created blind corners that made us invisible to passing traffic. It was nerve-wracking at best, but we made it up safely.
A good downhill took us closer to Superior, AZ. Once there we spied a pizzaria and took a break. We ordered our pie, and sat down with a local newspaper. Other customers arrived a few minutes later, and to my disapproval, lit up cigarettes. I grumbled as they puffed away, but that's right...we are in Arizona. Most of the time I can put up with cigarette smoke, but I cannot stand it while I am eating. We read through the paper and a real estate guide. I looked up to see that all the customers who arrived after us were already eating. Jo went up to the counter and the young man told her our pizza was on it's way. Jo talked with a group of people about our trip as I thumbed through a magazine. Fifteen minutes later, we still didn't have our food. I went to the counter and the kid told me that he accidentally gave our pizza to the wrong table. I sat down and finished the magazine. Jo joined the table and said, "Where's our food?" I told her the story and she marched up to the counter demanding a half-dozen chocolate chip cookies for free for our trouble. She brought them back and kindly shared them with me! (Jo interrupts...Ain't I just the sweetest thang?)
We finally ate and packed up some leftovers for later. Both of us had stuffed ourselves and had to take some time to digest. Back on our bikes, we found our legs did not want to cooperate. I figures our stomachs were taking up too much energy in digestion-mode. yet another, steeper grade was ahead. (Jo interrupts...We figured we'd make it as far as we could up the hill and just stealth-camp somewhere along the way.) We made it about a quarter of a mile before I hit a rock in the road. It severed the sidewall of my rear tire and cut the tube open. We thanked our lucky stars that we had purchased a spare tire in Peoria. Had we not, the last bike shop was about 60 miles behind us, making things very difficult. (Jo interrupts again...We would have had to hitchhike, and who in the world would have wanted to, or been able to, pick us up? We have way too much gear. Even someone in a pickup would have laughed at the prospect!) I changed my tube and tire and we started climbing once again.
The road became dangerous once again with little to no shoulder. A bridge in the distance showed us no mercy, with no room at all between the road and the concrete wall of the bridge. We waited for a break in traffic and pulled into the lane. There was no "hauling butt" across this bridge to avoid traffic. The grade was so steep it forced us into first gear as big rigs on the downhill side flew past with billowing smoke rushing from the trailer brakes. Even cars would pass with the smell of their brakes poisoning our air. Halfway across the bridge, cars approached from the rear. There was still traffic on the opposite side of the bridge. We were riding single file, but apparently, these cars could not wait to pass us. The squeezed between us and the double yellow line. They were so close , I could feel the hot exhaust rushing out of their tailpipes onto my legs. I wondered why they couldn't wait one more minute for us to safely get across. (Jo interrupts...I'm sure they were upset that WE were inconveniencing THEM for a whole minute. Instead, they chose to risk our lives, and their own.) On the other side of the bridge, we pulled into a dirt pullout. This road was getting to us. Our legs burned-we could only pedal at about 40 rpm. We've been wondering if we chose the best bicycles for this trip. The gears don't seem to be low enough for the grades we are climbing, and the loads we are pulling.
Making it around another blind corner, we came upon a tunnel. Again there was no shoulder, even inside the tunnel. There was only a 12" high cement curb against the side wall that was not really wide enough to even stand on. Big rigs and cars flew past us just inches away. Even when there was room to go around us in the other lane, people didn't seem to care. We decided to try to walk our bikes through the tunnel rather than risk being so close to the wall with our handlebars. We were afraid we may collide with the curb or the wall and fall into traffic.
A driver got behind us and turned on his emergency flashers. I looked back at him and he motioned for us to proceed. "JO! JO!! This guy is holding up traffic for us!", I yelled over the deafening roar of the traffic in the tunnel. By this time, there were two lanes heading uphill and one down. We climbed back on and pedalled, ever so slowly, toward the light at the other end. Cars whizzed past us in the other lane. We were concerned that a vehicle would either pass the car behind us and cut immediately into our lane, hitting us...or that a car would rear-end this car and send him into us. After an eternity, we exited the tunnel and sought refuge on a gravel pullout. The man in the car pulled alongside us and got out. He introduced himself as Jim and gave us a ton of very useful advice about the road ahead. He even offered to go home and get his trailer, come back, and pick us up. He wanted to drive us the 16 miles out of this dangerous pass and back to a safer area. We thanked him for his offer but had to refuse. We must bicycle the entire route, although it would have been nice to cheat on this stretch. Jim gave us directions to a campground 1.5 miles ahead and wished us luck. It was nice to have a total stranger help us through that difficult time. Thank you, Jim.
(Jo interrupts...We are more than a little irritated at Adventure Cycling for sending us on this route. I have never been so frightened while biking. This was, by far, the most dangerous road I've ever been on. I believe Adventure Cycling can expect a letter expressing my... disappointment. There must be a better route through Arizona to avoid a road like this. Shame on them.)
The weather turned sour as the temperature plummeted and lighting lit up the darkening sky. The sun was disappearing early as rain began to fall. Our legs burned as we pushed over the last part of this mountain and reached the campground. (Jo says...There was a pullout every .25 miles. The road was so steep, we had to rest at each pullout.) Rain-soaked brakes could barely slow us down as we rode downhill into the area. Yet another argument for disc brakes, Jo noted.
This was a free campsite, which was very nice. As we scanned the area for an empty site, we noticed two large but separate groups of campers. They had large symbols on banners at each site. The symbols seemed Celtic or Pagan, and the people were all dressed in Renaissance garb. It was almost completely dark when, in our headlights, we located an empty site and set up camp. Lightning in the distance lit up the night sky as we unloaded gear and pitched our tent. A hunt for firewood came up very fruitful, though. I found half a tree that had fallen and was lying in a wash just 200 feet from camp. I dragged it to our site, but bicycle shoes do not make for excellent hiking (especially in the rain). A roaring fire was a small bit of warmth and comfort as raindrops fell after this long day.
As the storm's strength grew, we took shelter inside our tent. We like that all we can fit the two of us, and all of our gear, comfortably inside. The lightning jumped across the sky just overhead with thunder clapping directly on it's heels. Quickly, we discovered that our rainfly needs some waterproofing! Drops of water scattered across our sleeping bags. (Jo interrupts...We put our towels in the mesh netting across the top of our tent to catch the water, and that kept us pretty dry throughout the night.) As the violence of the storm waned, we drifted to sleep.

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Photos

The Tunnel
No room for bikes? Oh well.

Our tunnel guide Jim
Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times!

Lightning dances across the night sky.
Our campfire tried to stay burning through the rain.

Shawne playing with the camera.
A 2 second exposure and the campfire gave us a cool effect.

Comments

[Denise / Steve & Boys]

YEAH TO MY HEROS
I am so proud of you guys. I want to let you know you both are in my thoughts and prayers. BE SAFE. The baby is old enough for me to once again enjoy a drink with you guys at TOADS. I missed you at Harley. I was a temp there for about a week before I found a higher paying position. (just a few weeks after you left I might add) I have to tell you that Katie Davis was so very kind to me and has been forwarding your blogs to me. Keep on biking you guys. Love you, Denise