Catching up: We've reached the Pacific!

This'll be a long one, folks. So much to update!



As I mentioned previously, R2 was lucky to be taken in and taken care of by Greg at High Velocity Cycles in Albuquerque. He equipped R2 with a new stator, new alternator brushes and a new regulator/rectifier (basically the whole charging system). Better still, he told us that the bike would be ready to roll around noon on Thursday, and at 11:30 Thursday morning, he called to say that the bike was in fact ready!



While the unplanned repair wasn't exactly good news, I am glad to have spent some time in Albuquerque and get to know it.



I visited the main library with fellow traveler and hostel-stayer Bob, then took an epic walk from Old Town, along Route 66 through the University of New Mexico campus (where the ducks, too, are wondering "this is New Mexico?!")...



...and popped into various swilleries, music venues and restaurants.



I ended the evening of our down-day in ABQ by hanging out at the Launchpad with some folks from the local film and video scene and a death metal band called Relentless. As you might expect, they played a very loud, very aggressive set, while another Eric -- a friend of Relentless' lead guitar player, Will (a.k.a. Thrasher, pictured in front) -- circled the crowd, begging people to mosh. He paced the floor like a tiger, and pounced like one, too, whenever someone was sufficiently tempted. But he was built like a bull, and as I didn't feel like having my shoulder dislocated, I just watched and enjoyed the spectacle.

So, after getting the call that R2 was mended on Thursday, we loaded up the bikes, leaving the southeast corner of our motorcycle trip, and headed west. I was curious whether what Paul called the New Mexico bungy cord effect would happen again -- some new breakdown forcing us to retrace our path. (As Stone, staff at the Route 66 Hostel put it, we were experiencing the Land of Entrapment.) But our wheels kept turning, R2 ran like a champ, and we started getting some miles under us, finally crossing the Arizona border. We stopped for a visit through the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest National Park, seeing petroglyphs and lots of preserved indications of the passage of time, and the dramatic geological and biological changes this part of the world (well, every part of the world) has experienced.

 

We weren't sure how far we wanted to push it, but did hope to get as close to northern Arizona's other big attractions on our list: Meteor Crater and the Grand Canyon. We decided to land at a cheap hotel in Winslow ($39 per night while they remodel), easy striking distance from Meteor Crater.



Friday morning, we came face to face with this enormous hole, the cause of which was subject to much scientific debate in its history. Was it the caldera of a volcano? There was little belief that it could be an impact crater, and little remaining evidence of the object that created the crater. Seeing it face-to-face -- none of our photographs, or even really the human eye, can appreciate how wide and deep it is until you have walked it -- was a deeply satisfying culmination of a curiosity that began with a reference to this feature in Carl Sagan's Cosmos, one of the best, most impactful gifts I've every received. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) Having had my cataclysmic catharsis, we headed off to the chasm! The Grand Canyon!

On the way, however, we encountered a couple of set-backs. First, torrential rains! (It's amazing how much rain we had in New Mexico and Arizona!) Second, we took a road that ostensibly led to a diner to escape the rain, devolved into a primitive road and then into a sandy dirt track... where we both managed to drop our bikes. Together. At the same moment. Thankfully, neither bike sustained damage, save some zipper scratches on Julie's tank. (R2's hardening accessories -- hand guards and an engine guard -- have really paid off, as has the enormous pack strapped across the passenger seat that prevents its sides from touching ground.) And, more importantly, we survived the experience with only a few bruises and sore wrists.

We took a rest and had some lunch at a grocery store in Flagstaff, assessing our options, considering the forecast and our lodging options. The forecast made rain seem likely, potentially heavy rains, so we decided to bee-line for a motel in Williams, Arizona, unload the bikes, and both hop on R2, then zip up to the Grand Canyon. We reached Mather Point just as the rain was ending, and were treated to rainbows arcing through the canyon. We spent an hour or so appreciating the majesty of this place, then headed back to our home base in Williams.



Saturday morning, we set off for what was the most arduous day of riding yet: over 500 miles to Kim's in San Diego, through the Mohave Desert, forecast to reach 111°F! I had lots of concerns about our bikes' abilities to handle that heat, the sparseness of service should it be needed, and, for Julie's bike in particular, the large spans of the desert without fuel available. After a day of riding and getting stuck in traffic with temps in the nineties in Nebraska, R2 started idling hot and spitting oil. Another twenty degrees certainly wouldn't help, I thought. And, we ended up beginning our crossing at high noon, hottest part of the day. A gas station attendant told us that often people wouldn't even stop to provide help, since it was so hot. It was the proverbial 100° in the shade.



So, my thoughts were full of trepidation as we began our crossing, looking at the desolate landscape and ominous, barren mountains to the left and right of the road, the scorching wind as though someone left the door to the blast furnace open. But both bikes made the trip admirably, and thankfully without incident. We still had hundreds of miles in the saddle ahead of us to reach San Diego, and the relief from the heat wasn't immediate, but we made it through the toughest bit.

And thankfully, relief did come, and we reached Kim's in time for a delicious spread she laid on for us, and had our own cozy celebration of Independence Day, the sounds of fireworks ricocheting off the adjacent buildings, as we sat on Kim's candle-light patio with a glass of wine and fine, fine company.

Friends, after riding nearly 3,000 miles, through the green plains and fierce storms of the Midwest, over the Rocky Mountains and through deserts, we've reached the Pacific Ocean!