The great trans-continental bike journey

Maryland & Virginia

• Day 1.
  Sunny and warm. Annapolis, 0930 EDT. Through suburban Maryland. Greenbelt, Rockville, Poolsville to Whites Ferry where I cross the Potomac river to Virginia. Just before Poolsville I run out of steam! I haven't been hungry, so I neglected to eat. I quickly remedy the problem at a local restaurant. Down to Leesberg, pick up VA 7 to Purcellville for the evening. Only 75 miles, but I got a late start (and it was through built up areas). At least I'm under way. Weather was great, especially considering the heavy rain of the day before!

West Virginia

• Day 2.
  Sunny and Warm. Winchester VA for breakfast (Nice rural town), cross into West Virginia. After the Shenandoah valley I venture into the Allegheny mountains, and for the out of condition body of this cyclist it requires frequent rest stops! My knees are hurting by now, so I'm taking pain killers and rubbing on Bengay. US 50 is for the most part narrow one lane road with little or no shoulder.
  I get a warning about the coming terrain from a local...Mount Storm will be a struggle I'm told, but that will be the worst. Time for lunch, after conquering a hill with an 8% grade. I get a greeting from a fellow restaurant patron, "Hey, we passed you on the way up the hill. Steep wasn't it?". More smaller hills on the way to Romney, where I drop into the public library to find out the name of a campground. There's one about five miles west (thats five miles that I won't have to do tomorrow). Unfortunately, it's on the top of a ridge! So I climb up some VERY steep roads. A very nice chap offers me the use of his house instead of my cold tent (I graciously declined the offer).

• Day 3.
  Sunny and cold in the morning, warming up later. Scary ride down from the ridge (my hat blew off but it was too steep to stop immediately so I had a half mile walk back!). The morning is so cold that I'm forced to put socks on my hands. A nice ride through the valley after Romney. By mid morning I'm climbing up the first of the mountains. A 9 % grade up Allegheny mountain (2850 ft). Two hours at 4-5 mph. At the top, look over to Saddle mountain where Nancy Hanks (Abe Lincoln's mother) was born. The owner of the store that I enter asks where I'm going. "Why San Diego?", she asks. "I was invited to Thanksgiving dinner.", I replied. After a puzzled look I added, "My girlfriend lives there.". "Ah!", she says. (That she understands!). Another customer chimes in, "My boyfriend wouldn't get off the couch and go the the kitchen for me.".
  A few miles more to Storm mountain (3000+ feet). A nice ride down to the Potomac (North Branch). What's this I'm back in Maryland? I now pay for the ride down by going back up, and up to Backbone mountain (the highest point on the Maryland state road system!). Down again, and up another mountain. This one is not so bad, Then down to the Cheat river. What's this? Mountain number 5! This becomes too much and I push up the last half. I'm starting to have trouble with my left achilles tendon, so more ibprofen and Bengay. Five miles of down hill on the other side though. Now the light is going, I'm really tired and I've still got 12 miles to go. It's dark by the time I get to Grafton. Camping at Tygart lake is some miles south, its pitch black and I'm exhausted so I check into the only Motel in town.

• Day 4.
  Foggy and cold early warming to a nice sunny day. Buy some gloves before leaving Grafton. Very nice country with gentle undulating hills. Little traffic here. A climb up then a long run down on a Freeway like road into Clarksburg. I find a bookshop/coffee shop in town. One chap asks me if it was me that he just passed on the road in. He complains about me riding that road, but the only other patron springs to my defense! This chap is a fellow cyclist. He tells me that I'll like the road to Parkersburg. Ah, US 50 is now 2 lanes with a broad shoulder. I keep catching up to a road crew repainting the lane markings. (Thus breathing various noxious gases). Get to West Union for lunch (a mile off the road) where I consume a few gallons of pink lemonade since it's been getting quite warm. From here to Parkersburg the going is like traveling over a huge sheet of corrigated iron! One hill after another, all about the same height. I get to Parkersburg after sunset and 96 miles.

Ohio

• Day 5.
  Crossing over the Ohio River at Parkersburg to Belpre Ohio, I leave behind hilly West Virginia. The contrast in terrain is stark. A great day for cycling as I make my way to Athens. At a small grocery shop at mid morning I call the office, as I have been doing each day. While on the phone, my pager goes off for the first time. (It's been out of range of a transmitter for days). Joe's hailing me from Nth Carolina to find out where I am. After Athens, and lunch, I continue on US50 for 12 miles but then choose to take US32. I think this will be a better road both for the condition of the surface and the scenery. Undulating hills and lightly wooded countryside make a nice change from WV. 20 miles down the road I get my first flat tyre (sic). By late afternoon I'm at Jackson. The forecast calls for cooler conditions and rain tomorrow. I buy a long sleeve flannel shirt and a woolly hat, since I only brought summer clothing with me.

• Day 6.
  Because of the impending storm and as a chance for my ankle to get some rest, I decide to sit out today in Jackson. The storm, as it turns out doesn't arrive till 11am and the front and bad rain is over in about 90 minutes.

• Day 7.
  The sky is overcast but its time to move on. After an hour is begins to rain. I take cover for a few minutes but the the drizzle is intermittent so I put up with it. I have a goretex coat that keeps me dry enough. I pass an uranium enrichment plant which I don't expect to find in this part of the country. The terrain becomes wooded with light rolling hills. I stopped at a rest stop on US32. I wondered what the motorists thought of this cyclist who looked like a drowned rat! The wind picks up toward noon as I reach Peebles. More moderate head winds as I head east toward East Fork state park. I ask directions at a gas station about 20 miles out. A chap comes up to me. He gives me better instructions than the woman behind the counter and asks, "Are you going for the halloween activities ?". Actually I'd forgotten about halloween. As directed I took a left over Rt 32 at the Ford plant onto "four wheel drive", which eventually led to the park. For $12 I got a site with electricity and a brochure about the corps of engineers project!

• Day 8.
  Just outside the park is a chili place that I get breakfast and write a few postcards. Just 15 miles to Cincinnati. Rt 32 changes from freeway conditions to a two lane road near Newtown, a nice suburban town. I pick up US 50 which winds around Cincinnati by the Ohio river. The section for about 3 miles before the centre is very scenic, being on the side of the hills rising from the river and overlooking the city and Kentucky on the other side. After going through the centre and along the a light industrial section west of the town, I pick up a tail wind and really move along to Elizabethtown where I stop for lunch. It seems I may have been lucky to find a place open here on a Sunday. Just after lunch I cross into Indiana. The terrain is just what I thought it would be like, quite flat. The tail wind has now turned against me and the going is not so fast. After 30 odd miles i get to Versailles state park. I camp here for the night. The campsite is up a large hill about 2 miles into the park. A park ranger drops by for a chat and tells me the terrain around Bedford (famous for Bedford limestone, don't you know!) is quite hilly. I should also watch out for the limestone trucks on the narrow road.

Indiana

• Day 9.
  I see a few deer running through the woods and one right in front of me as I head out at sunrise. A shortcut through the park, into the town of Versailles saves me a big hill and a mile or two. While I stop for refreshments a chap confirms the ranger's story about the road ahead. It's because I'll be riding over glacial moraine, he assures me. Up ahead is Seymore, who's famous son is John Cougar (after the high school's football team) Melloncamp. After two flat tyres in quick succession I decide to replace the whole tyre at the next town. At Seymore a cop gives me directions to a Wal-Mart where I inquire about a bike shop (they don't have the right tyre (27x1)). At the western edge of town I find the shop and are soon on my way with a new tyre. At Brownstown the wind picks up but doesn't seem to slow me down. The terrain is uneven and the trees seem to break up the breeze. The hills are no problem. I guess a hill to an Indiana native is alot smaller than to, say, a West Virginian! I get to Bedford in early afternoon. If I go on further I risk being stranded with nowhere to stay. Before I know it I'm through town and heading into the unknown. Shoals, the next major town is some 20 miles on. It's not till the sun's down that I get there. (Still can't work out what happened to the big hill before Shoals that a woman in Bedford warned me of.) No accommodation here, so in the dark, I go on another 8 miles to Lagootee. I strap my torch to the back of the bike so I can be seen. The only problem is that I can't see the road. Quite relieved, I get to Lagootee after a day traveling 110 miles!

• Day 10.
  The ride to Vincennes should be quick. The road is flat but the head wind is making the going slow. After Maysville I take an alternative to US 50 but find that the bridge across the White river no longer exists, and I have to double back. At around noon I finally get into Vincennes. I cross the Wabash river over the Red Skelton bridge. You can see virtually right across Illinois, it's so flat. I continue on Rt 50 despite the sign prohibiting bicycles. (I didn't realize there was another parallel route just south). This is a problem only till Lawrenceville, some 9 miles into Illinois. Its now overcast but not likely to rain. The open prairie gives no shelter from the wind. At Olney, I decide that it's just not worth fighting any more and stop for the night at a Motel. As I take the road into town, I get a flat tyre which erases any doubt as to when to stop.

• Day 11.
  Wow, what a difference a day makes! The wind has changed direction and is now coming from the south. I make great time, especially compared with yesterday. I stop for an early lunch in Salem. I'm stopped by a chap in a car who pulls over to talk to me. He wanted to know where I was going etc. and tells me about his trips to Australia. It breaks the monotony to meet people this way. I do some calculations and realize I have a good shot at reaching St. Loius by night! It'll mean 125 miles, but I'll probably have just enough daylight. From Carlyle to Lebanon is 22 miles of new test highway which is nice except for the groves in the shoulder a mile before and after each exit. Things slow down through the suburbs before East St Louis. As I head in I find my maps inadequate to get me across the river. The neighborhoods get poorer as I move closer to the river. I try to get directions at a drive up liquor store but don't have any luck. Just up the road a pickup pulls over in front of me. The guy who gets out asks if I need help. Charlie, it transpires, does some cycling and offers me a lift to the west side of the river. He understands when I tell him that I'd rather do it myself but warns me that I'll be riding through a bad neighborhood. I get to the river after at twilight but can't find a way across. At a rough bar near the riverboat casino I'm told don't go back up the road, it's not safe. My best bet is to climb up the embankment next to the bridge and climb over the Armco. This sounds like good advice, so I take it! There is an incredible sense of achievement in getting across the Mississippi. I walk around the Arch and riverfront that night with the feeling that the trip is really underway!

Missouri

• Day 12.
  I'm so impressed by the size of the Gateway Arch, that I wait till the sun's up and I can take some photographs before heading out. The big news around St. Loius today is that Budwiesser is selling the Cardinals (baseball team) and stadium. I cycle pass the stadium on the way out of town. Getting out of the city seems like it's taking forever. I stop at a bike store on the way out to pick up a spare tyre and a tail light. Trying to follow old 66 at this point looked tricky so I decided to take some state roads instead, at least for a couple of days. Missouri, I expected, would be flat but I found that I was now in the Ozarks. The hills were not too big and many times the road follows the ridge line, thus avoiding many ups and downs. There's a certain pleasure in passing microwave towers. (It means I'm at the high point). The difference from one side of the Mississippi to the other couldn't have been more striking. The clouds gathered around noon as I headed up to Gray Summit on Rt100. By the time I got to Union it was coming down in buckets. To make matters worse, my achilles tendon was really giving me trouble. I pressed on, the rain eased off and by the end of the day I was in Owensville.

• Day 13.
  Rt 28 takes a few twists and turns around the hills, so I zig-zag around as I head south west. The wind is a brisk westerly, which isn't a problem until I hit Rt 63 near Vichy. Here, what should be a nice down hill to the Gasconade river is hard work, and of course its worse coming out of the valley. The next 20 miles to Dixon is slow. The afternoon ride is also a bit of a grind, but it's warm and sunny, and the county is really very picturesque. I follow the railway line, but whereas it has cuttings through the hills and embankments in valleys, Rt 133 goes up and down. Yet another flat just before Richland.

• Day 14.
  It's not easy to find the right road out of town in the morning but after a false start, I'm on road H then JJ. I find out at Sleeper that I can pick up old Rt 66, which is now the frontage road to Interstate 44. I go on through Lebanon and Philipsburg before rolling into Conway at about 1 PM. The wind is once again strong, but I'm now resigned to having it with me. As I head south maybe it will change to a cross wind. The 5 miles before Strafford are hard because the ground is open and unprotected. Every other billboard I pass is for some attraction in Branson Mo. I resist the temptation to throw up! As the sun goes down I get through to the west side of Springfield.

• Day 15.
  I'm loosing interest in Missouri by this, my forth day. It has flattened out now in comparison with the eastern part but there are still enough hills to make it interesting. Neosho, a mining town is a case in point. Everyone seems to have converged on the only restaurant open on a Sunday. By the looks of it they have just come from church. I've opted for US 60 into Oklahoma because it is slightly shorter, and I was advised by a cyclist that was is a good wide road with plenty of shoulder. I camp that night at the Twin Bridges state park in Oklahoma. I put up my tent next to a covered picnic site, since there is rain forecast for the morning and it will give me somewhere to pack up thats dry. The wind is really howling outside the tent, making sleep a problem.

Oklahoma

• Day 16.
  Yes there's rain rolling off the roof of the picnic site onto the tent. I pack up and head out in very light rain before dawn. The whole day is overcast and windy. I pickup the Will Rogers highway (Rt 66) again out of Vinita. I'm worried that I won't make Tulsa because of the wind but it abates as the day goes on. A chap at the gas station tries to save my soul, but gives up after a short discussion on the merits of atheism.

  I can see the Tulsa skyline, but it takes a good while to reach it. There are some nice looking buildings here, with the art deco train station standing out especially. To save time in the morning I try to get as far west as I can, reaching the south western outskirts after dark.

• Day 17.
  As I head out in the dark, my wheels get caught in a railway crossing, sending me and the bike over. Luckily, I've just a couple of scrapes. This part of Oklahoma is not as I imagined it at all. It has rolling hills, and I can't see a corn field anywhere. Of course it's probably all been harvested by now. The OK Rt 66 association has its headquarters in Chandler, but its closed when I reach it. I'm heading for Edmond which is 15 miles north of Oklahoma City. Joe has a friend who has graciously offered me a hot meal and warm bed for the night. It's well over 100 miles by the time I find this community that looks as if the builders had just left. Steve and his family are very friendly to this stranger who is, by now, eating like a bear. It's halloween, but fortunately Steve, who's english, doesn't recognize it. (although I bring sweets to rot the teeth of their children) At this point I'm nearly half way, which actually means that I still have a long way to go. Physically I'm very well, but the long lonely days are getting to me somewhat. The last few days I've been in range of NP Radio, which helps gives me some company.

• Day 18.
  It's overcast as I arrive in Oklahoma City. My curiosity get the better of me and I go by the bombed Murrah federal building. All that remains is the lower parking floors. It seems alot closer to the surrounding buildings than I remember from the television coverage. The collateral damage is severe on the post office and other buildings to the north.

  I pick up Rt 66 out of the city but it's slow getting clear of the suburbs. Yukon, is on the western edge of OK city. It seems, from the name of the main street, that Garth Brooks is the hometown boy. At El Reno business 40 ends at the outskirts of town, leaving me no alternative but to take Interstate 40 for 20 miles. This is the first time on the trip that I've had to ride on the interstate, which is illegal in Oklahoma. The highway patrol drive right past, so I presume they turn a blind eye to cyclists on this stretch since there is no other way through. A few other motorists however make their displeasure at my presence known. I'm no more pleased to be there as they are to see me. One more section of interstate before Hydro. I seem to have missed a turn at Hydro, because the road kept heading north. I finally find someone to ask directions. It's dark and cool as I get into Weatherford after my 10 mile detour.

• Day 19.
  A cold mass of Canadian air has blown in and the temperatures have dropped into the 30s. Since I haven't been subject to such weather, I decide to stay in Weatherford and see how I could handle it. I buy a balaclava and heavier gloves. The airport has a museum dedicated to Thomas P. Stafford, an Apollo astronaut. It seems that he now works for a defense contractor and got a few of his buddies to chip in for the museum. The cold doesn't pose any problems, so I decide I can ride on, even near freezing.

• Day 20.
  Another evangelical christian trys to redeem me at Clinton. She even offers to buy breakfast, but I suggest she saves it for someone who really needs it. There's a Rt 66 museum at Elk City, but it's closed when I get there. I find a bike shop though, and pick up some more supplies. I buy some 'toughies', which are Kevlar strips that go between the tube and tyre. I'm hoping that this will reduce the frequency of flat tyres which at the moment is about one ever two days. This part of Oklahoma is getting quite flat, but Sayre seems an interesting town. Erick, a famous old Rt 66 speed trap, I reach at about 3pm. Texola which is on the boarder is virtually abandon now. Old Rt 66 into Shamrock TX is the south frontage road to I 40. I get a few toots of greeting from the on-coming I40 traffic. This makes me think that maybe I mistook, at least some of the toots while I was on the interstate as hostile when they were greetings. Shamrock is a shell of it's former self. Like so much of the life of Rt 66, it's now bypassed. It's no longer necessary for cars and trucks to stop every 100 miles, and why stay in a place like Shamrock, when you're only a four hours from Oklahoma City or Amarillo. The famous art-deco U-Drop-In cafe and gas station looks in good repair, but is no longer in use.

Texas

• Day 21.
  Its cool and overcast with the occasional drop of rain as I head out over the plain. The interstate is quite flat but once again the frontage road follows natures path. You can see for many miles in this terrain, and the water tower at Groom/Britten (which was deliberately built tilted over), an icon of Rt 66, seems to take hours to reach. With the noise of the grain elevators in the background, I phone Sybil to tell her that I'm now in her home state. (Syb is quite underwhelmed by this news). The rising ground, head wind and overcast skys make the ride into Amarillo slightly unpleasant. The B40 east of town is brand spanking new and the only car I saw was an elderly couple dumping what looked like a pick-up's liner bed by the side of the road. Amarillo must have the highest concentration of mobile home retailers per mile than any other city!

• Day 22.
  On the west of Amarillo is the Cadillac Ranch (where Stanley Marsh III half buried 10 Caddys in the ground). It's on the other side of the interstate from Rt 66, so I have to cross over the rail line and all of I 40 to get there. The cars are about 300 meters from the road, but since there were no cattle in the field today, I could go right up to the 'art work'.

  It's sunny but the wind slows me down to 8 MPH. The wind generators I see, confirm my belief that this type of weather is not atypical. At Adrian (which a sign in town proclaims is the half way point on Rt 66) I'm down to 6 MPH, so I decide to stop for the day rather than fighting on. It's only 3pm, but fighting the wind is quite unrewarding.

New Mexico

• Day 23.
  Usually the wind is light for the first few hours, but not today. This place is in the middle of nowhere, so I'm not staying a day here! After an hour or so the wind dies down and I make good time to the NM border. I realize, looking at the canyons, that rather than being on a plain, I've really been climbing onto a mesa. An historical marker describes that this road was part of the Santa Fe trail from Arkansas.

  The wind picks up with a vengeance as I enter New Mexico. The road to San Jon is especially tough, the town being in sight for about an hour and a half. I doubt that things will improve any time soon, so I push on in the afternoon to Tucumcari. There is nothing inbetween the towns, so its too late when I realize that I'm low on water. Rt. 66 deviates from I 40 which makes for a more scenic ride.

• Day 24.
  The riding this morning is great. It's sunny, the terrain is interesting and the wind is light! This area west of Tucumcari looks like something out of a hollywood western. The Lone Ranger would not look out of place emerging from over one of the hills. Some of the towns marked on my Rand McNalley map are just a few abandoned buildings. At Santa Rosa, that I reach at noon, I have an excellent lunch at an old Rt 66 diner. It has warmed up enough now for me to change clothes. This is a daily occurrence, since its cold at dawn, requiring long pants and shirts, pullover, jacket and gloves. I shed each piece as the day goes on.

  I decide to follow the pre-1936 alignment of 66 to Las Vegas NM and Santa Fe. The route should be quieter than the I 40, which doesn't have a frontage road here, and the terrain more interesting. I pick up US 84 about 20 miles out of Santa Rosa and head north. I calculate that I won't reach Las Vegas by dusk, so I begin to think about camping in a field. At Dilia, I pick up some snack food at a bar (there's no general store within 30 miles) and camped at an abandoned RV park. When the land owner returned, he was friendly enough and said he didn't mind me spending the night.

• Day 25.
  The full moon gave enough light for me to pack up and be on the road early, although I needed the balaclava to keep my nose from freezing. About 10 miles from Las Vagas I found that I had dropped my torch between the rear rack and tyre, whilst I packed. This caused my rear tyre to wear down, and my early progress to be slowed. I had no reason to take the spur to the town, but I did need breakfast. I stopped at the KOA for directions. The woman there was very friendly and offered coffee and muffins!

  The frontage road to I 25 was very nice and the scenery attractive. The wind, that was concentrated through the valleys only became a problem around noon. The road crossed the Santa Fe national forest and past the Pecos national monument. I stopped to look at the indian and spanish ruins.

  I was not making good time and was worried about making it to Santa Fe, however the last 20 miles flew by. The 6 mile stretch of I 25 before Santa Fe was almost all down hill, and the northern spur to the city was a nice ride. I stayed right at the centre of town, which has a unique spanish architecture.

• Day 26.
  After Santa Fe I had to take I 25 to Bernalillo. There is a fantastic down hill about 10 miles out. Santa Fe is at 7000 feet, and this drops down to about 6000 in only a few miles. I wanted to get as far as I could before the wind picked up, which it did around 10am.

  I called the BST office when I got to Bernalillo, where John chastised be for calling in late (There were no payphones on the shoulder of I25! ). For the next 5 hours I had to stop and call back to solve a problem with a camera system we were building for the olympics. It was a nice run into Albuquerque. I was expecting a very steep hill before the city that never materialized. (Later investigations reveal it is on the eastern side of the city on I40). I cross the Rio Grande just south of Albuquerque, and follow the river south to Los Lunas. This is the Rt 66 road which, I can only imagine, takes this meandering path to avoid rough terrain.

  I have the best mexican food of my life at a small restaurant here!

• Day 27.
  The day started well, with Rt 6 being almost completely devoid of vehicles. The railway was an interesting companion though. After a few hours, the wind built up. It had been forecast, but I hadn't really expected it to be so severe. I was slowed to 4 miles per hour. By the time I got to I 40 the westerly was so strong that I had trouble staying on the bike. In my lowest gear I crawled at 3mph at times. When the gusts dropped, I almost veered into the traffic, trying to compensate. All through this area are indian reservations and not much else. If I didn't make Grants, I'd have to sleep outside and the wind precluded the use of a tent. I got to Mesita at lunch time but there were no services there. Laguna, that I reached about an hour later had a store, and by that time the wind had died down to 35 mph. I thought there maybe accommodation at Cubero (where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea), but was told by the bartender that Grants was the closest. I slogged the last twenty miles in, with four of those miles on the freeway in the dark.

  Boy, was I pleased to get into town. It was 85 miles, but it felt like 185. After that day, I knew that nothing could stop me.

• Day 28.
  The road from Grants to Gallup was a cake walk! Mild hills, little wind and plenty of sunshine. I reached the continental divide, west of Thoreau at about 11 am and had to wait around for someone to stop by who could take my picture next to the sign. This was definatley one of the milestones of the trip, and it should be recorded! The divide separates the water sheds of the US. Rain to the east flows into the Atlantic, that to the west the Pacific. This was news to me. I had assumed it had to do with interface of two tectonic plates.

  I rode into Gallup at 1pm, but couldn't make any significant town beyond by sunset, so I had the afternoon off.

Arizona

• Day 29.
  I'm plagued by a slow leak in the front tyre. It's annoying because it's too slow to warrant wasting half an hour to replace, but I have to check it often. I take the high road through the canyon into Arizona. At the welcome centre I noticed that the water in my water bottle has frozen!

  There are many indian shops along the route, but I wonder how much of the stuff is made in Taiwan. I guess it's mostly legitimate but it seems awfully tacky.

  The road is good, and the weather mild and I make very good time. I get to the petrified forest national park around noon. It's about 20 miles north to the painted desert and 20 miles south to the main part of the forest, so I decide to travel on.

  There are some stretches of I 40 that I need to take in Arizona, but here it is legal for cyclists to use interstates outside metropolitan areas. I arrive in Holbrook, and are surprised by how big it is. It looks like a very healthy town, and the old Wig-Wam motel is still in great shape.

• Day 30.
  I take B40 out of Holbrook. When I rejoin I40 I am dismayed at the 100 percent grooving of the shoulder. These horizontal grooves are spaced 20 feet apart to warn motorists that they are on the shoulder, but for a cyclist it is a device to break spokes and bend wheels. I take the old alignment at Joseph city. This part of 66 leads to a dead end, and the only way I can get back to the interstate is to cut a barbed wire fence. (I did this with great reluctance, of course). I stopped for coffee in Winslow. I met a young guy who was hitchhiking south. He says to me, "You look like a regular person!". By this he meant that I wasn't dressed in cycling attire. I told him that I took that as a compliment!

  Half way to Flagstaff from Winslow, I take a 6 mile detour south to the meteor crater. It is 3/4 mile in diameter and over five hundred feet deep. I remember seeing a picture of it as a child in a Time-Life book, so seeing it in person was a must.

  For most of the morning I have been heading towards the San Fransisco mountains. They can be seen for 50 miles. The terrain becomes almost alpine, with many pine trees as I get closer to Flagstaff. I go through Winona and head up some winding roads toward Flagstaff. It has been a gradual rise from 5000 feet at Holbrook to 7000 at Flagstaff.

• Day 31.
  At Sybil's suggestion, I have a closer look around flagstaff. It has a very nice 'old west' feel to the town center. Its quite different to my preconception of Arizona towns. I head out of town past the University. A few miles down I40 is the Arizona divide at 7300ft. This is the highest point point on my journey (although all the Rt66 guides say that the continental divide is!). Its downhill now all the way to the coast (well almost). Williams is the next major town I come to. It is in a valley and alot of its commerce is from the grand canyon railway, and skiing during the winter. Now I come down a few thousand feet in a few miles! At the bottom of the mountain is Ash Fork, where flagstone is the town's industry. The flora has reverted to the small shrubs that is more normal for Arizona, now that I've come down from the mountains. The road before Seligman is a very long, moderate up hill. It's deceptive because it keeps decreasing in grade. This means that you can't see the real peak of the road (only a local hill). One gets close to what you think is the crest, only to see another higher one a mile or so down the road. This goes on for a while.

  Seligman turns out to be a fun place. For one thing it's not a dead Rt 66 town. It has survived, probably because of the Grand Canyon tourist trade. It has a number of hotels and general stores despite being in the middle of nowhere. This it turns out was the birthplace of the 'Historic Rt 66' movement. I meet the founder of the Arizona Rt 66 association, Angel Delgadillo, who runs a combination 66 souvenir shop and barber shop. I add my card to his wall, which is filled with thousands of others from earlier 66 travelers. I get alot of good information from Angel. There's a malt shop, done up like a xmas tree in town. The proprietor is full of practical jokes and laughs. (The door to his establishment has a knob on either side!). I have my evening meal at a 50's style diner, thats one of the buildings that gives the town its charm.

• Day 32.
  Route 66 deviates from I 40 here and heads up to Grand Canyon Caverns. It's a fantastic ride because the road is in great shape, very few vehicles use it, the countryside is very pretty and it's almost all down hill (in fact there's a 6% downhill at one point). A little wind causes the tumbleweed into the wheels and gears as I head out of Seligman in the morning. Its a nice run through Peach Springs to Truxton. At a little roadside diner (about the only thing in Truxton!), I get some coffee and apple pie. Also there are a german couple I saw back in Seligman. They are doing a route 66 trip while in the States. It's just a beautiful day as I ride through the mesas and canyons. I pass, then ride back to what's labeled as the route 66 visitors center. The owner offers coffee and biscuits to all the people who drop in, and everyone who passes through Hackburry seemed to be dropping in! I got some good advice on the road ahead, and some history of the 'mother road'. The road into Kingman, which becomes Andy Devine avenue is 20 miles of straight, flat riding. (who was Andy Devine?).

• Day 33.
  Down town Kingman is quite interesting, especially by the railway station. I can imagine steam trains pulling into the center of town in the 19 century. I leave 66 outside of Kingman, and head down I40 to AZ95. At Yucca, a chap at the cafe I stop at guesses I'm english, not from my accent but because of my pullover. He doesn't seemed to put out when I tell him that I'm neither english or in the Navy.

  The 40 miles from Kingman went very fast because I had dropped 3000 feet in the process, but now it was up and down along 95. Lake Havasu City has the air of a construction site (with only a little more charm). Winabago's everywhere. I can't see why anyone would choose to live there. Without irrigation from the Colorado river it would be just a rocky desert. It's pretty much the same thing all the way to Parker. Parker is in an indian reservation, and there are some indian casinos in town.

  The indian owner of the hotel I stay in lends me a copy of his newspaper with stories of the Pakistan/Australia cricket dispute. Yes, he is an east indian, not a native american!

California

• Day 34.
  Over the bridge at Parker and into Earp. At the post office I read that Wayatt Earp, in his latter years spent his winters here. I ride up to the agriculture inspection point at Vidal Junction, but the guard waves me away. I stock up at the cafe, because it's a long ride through the desert and nothing for 80 miles. the only town marked on the map is Rice, which has long since been abandoned. I was a bit wary of this route, but it was significantly shorter than taking 95 to Blythe. It also avoided 40 miles of I 10 which might end up being worse than the desert. A chap at Parker Dam, had assured me that the road was good, and he was spot on.

  I come across a guy trying to get his pickup out of the sand, 5 miles before Rice. He had driven off the road because he thought it would be be interesting to drive along one of the many dry rivers (washes). He'd gotten about 20 ft before being stuck. He was from Baltimore, as it turns out and was on his way to Pasadena. A little help and he was out of trouble.

  The area I was going through was a desert training ground for the WW2 troops before they went to north africa. The army had put in the roads initially to support the maneuvers. According to a historical marker sign there was a giant relief map of the area built that was still visible. However, from my vantage point I couldn't make it out. It was getting slightly tough to ride along because I was rising up from the low desert towards Twentynine Palms. I stopped to take a photograph of the Danby dry lake . When I turned around I saw another cyclist coming toward me. This canadian had been kicked out of Joshua Tree national park because of the government shutdown. The road just keep going toward the mountains with seemingly no way through. Although as I got closer I saw there was a pass through the Iron mountains on the right and the Granite mountains on the left.

  I stopped for lunch at the junction of 177 and 62. As I looked up 62, I was thankful that I'd decided not to take the road up to Palm Springs. 177 was a great downhill run for 15 miles. It was getting quite hot now, and I was getting very thirsty. The hot water I was carrying didn't seem to quench my thirst. When I got into Desert Center I drank litres and litres of soft drink! Unfortunately there was no accommodation at Desert Centre, so I moved on to Chirocco Summit, where I'd heard rumors of motel like cabins. A sign at the on-ramp to I10 warned that pedestrians were not permitted but said nothing about cyclists. I cycled past a highway patrol car that didn't give me a second look, so I guess its OK to take the freeway if there is no other way through. Chirocco Summit is nothing more than a truck stop (and General Patton museum), but they did have accommodation.

• Day 35.
  After a few short miles up I10, I was alone in the early morning on a cool but interesting ride through Box Canyon. It's a very rocky environment with steep sided hills all around. After negotiating my way through the hills, I come across green and fertile agricultural land north of the Salton sea. Fruit orchards abound in this irrigated area. I had presumed the inland sea was brackish, but it couldn't be if it's used for irrigation. It felt like I was in Mexico as I negotiated the vending of food at a convenience store in Mecca, when the clerk informed me of the cost of my purchases in spanish. Migrant workers must make up most of the inhabitants of this town.

  I had to head around the Salton Sea, before resuming my westerly path. The road into the Anza Borrego state park, S22, was steep, and very, very barren. Unlike the desert, this landscape was totally devoid of vegetation. It was more of a moonscape than almost any other area that I'd been in. I had flown over this area many times and had wondered what was down there. Well, now I know - very little! Upon entering the park, I had also crossed into San Diego county. I felt that the end of the journey was indeed close. Borrego Springs is in a valley within the park, and a popular tourist location. After consuming much lemonade at the airport resurant, I continued on to the resort that I had arranged to meet Marcie and Jim. These friends had decided to drive down from Santa Monica to meet me. I arrived at about 1pm, but the drive for Jim took longer than expected. We had a very pleasant evening. These were the first familiar faces I had seen in 5 weeks.

• Day 36.
  Jim and I had met when we both decided to cycle from San Franscisco to L.A. contemporaneously in 1985. Jim brought his bike with him to Borrego Springs, and decided to cycle with me for the first few hours. We climbed out of the valley to Yaqui pass, then down to CA78. I said farewell to Jim and started the big climb to Julian. On the county map that Jim had, it showed the road through Banner at 3000 ft. Fortunately, the road at about 1000ft went to the side of the Banner mountain. I called Sybil, to let her know my E.T.A. in San Diego of 4pm. Unfortunately she will have left for work by the that time. The celebrations may be delayed!

  From Banner, it was a slow but scenic 7 mile climb up to 4000 ft.
  Jullian, an old mining town, was full of tourists on this Sunday. I wasn't going to wait 30 minutes for a seat in the coffee shop, so I moved on. From that point, about 40 miles from San Diego, it was pretty much down hill all the way. I got some good directions at a bike shop in Romona, for the rest of the journey into Mission Valley. There was one incredible downhill before Lakeside. I couldn't have stopped on the way down without doing some serious damage!

  A woman at Santee told me that it was a long way into Mission Valley. I replied that after 3000 miles, 10 more miles didn't seem too arduous! I was unfamiliar with this area of San Diego, but as I got closer Mission Gorge Rd. became Fryers Road which I knew well. As I went passed the Stadium and crossed under the road, I heard what I thought was someone with a megawatt car stereo. Instead, it was a drummer, practicing in the road tunnel!

  My last obstacle, was a cruel hill - Texas street. I had been thinking about this for days, but there was no way to avoid it. Texas street from Mission Valley to North Park was a 15% grade, the steepest of the entire journey! By now I was in peak condition, and even this trial turned out to be no problem.

  I replaced the water bottle on my bike with french champagne and rode the last block to Sybil's house. To my utter delight Sybil had not left for work, so we spent the rest of the night celebrating! (she never did get to work!)

  Well that's all folks....what next, Africa??

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