Cycling Across America #74
Valley of the Sun
Part 74 of the Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)
Excerpts of the journal from the handwritten section in Arizona when I was resting with my last contacts before heading on for California and the end of the trip at the coast:
It really isn’t that far. Certainly in relation to what I’ve already cycled. I’m starting to believe that I’ve almost done it or at least am about to complete it. Is that dangerous? Today I spoke with a man who said I could ride on Interstate-8. He said it’s a tough ride - being in the desert and there’s a big climb as you cross the state line into California, but then even he said I’m practically there if I’ve already come from Boston.
I’ve relaxed a lot here. Become part of an American family and just enjoyed sharing their life and their friends. I’ve had a lot of fun and not thought too much of the last 3 and a half months or the road ahead. I haven’t used my time here to tour Phoenix and I’ve been happy not to. Instead I’ve got to meet many people and observe life for an American family in what is essentially a new town in the Southwest.
And the picture becomes clearer. The options fewer. At 8 in the morning a friend of my hosts called Mark arrives on his bike. Going his usual way to work he will escort me the 12 miles into downtown Phoenix and see me onto the Buckeye highway.
A year ago Mark cycled with sag wagon from San Diego to here. It was with a prayer group of businessmen, most of whom carried on across the country to Jacksonville, Florida. Today Mark showed me a short video of the trip to give me an idea of the terrain between here and San Diego and he talked me through the route.
Problem. He was at the beginning of his trip and was able for big mileages as I once was back in the East. Now I’m not. It would be foolhardy to budget for a 115 mile day along Interstate-8. I wouldn’t make it and when it gets dusk I’m on the most dangerous stretch of road you could want.
In the morning if he confirms that there is definitely a hotel 90 miles away then I will consider it and if I go ahead then I will carry on to Gila Bend via Buckeye. If not then it’s on with my plan going north-west on the busy US 60 to Wickenburg. From here I could find out about lodging further down the road. I suspect there’s something in Salome. At the very worst there’s something in Quartzite.
By sticking with my route I just have so many more options and life should be safer that way. He’s concerned about what liquids I can carry but I’m not. He went across the desert in over 100 degrees. Although yesterday was 89 today was lower and the norm for this time of year is 77. I have also already been in the desert for some time so drinks is far from my biggest concern. It’s not even lodging anymore. It’s the muscular pain in my legs.
[The rest of this post, is continued below the fold]
Today I inked in the gap from Apache Junction to here. Only 22 miles of flatness with the wind behind me and no weight to carry but it was agony.
The left leg went after 4 miles. I struggled on for 2, took 2 Tylenol, struggled on but it got worse and eventually had to stop.
I used several excuses to stop: an ATM to get cash on my VISA card but it refused adding to my list of concerns; a telephone cheapo job to ring somebody; and every single red light. I sat at the side of the road and sometimes tried walking slowly. No luck, I was limping badly.
I cycled with one leg but I wasn’t getting very far and it’s cumbersome doing that amongst traffic. I screamed a few times. I gritted my teeth and grimaced a lot. I only had 2 more Tylenol (extra strength) left. To take them is to double the recommended dosage but if they’re not effective then there’s no point in keeping them. I swallowed them, the pain eased and I could make the leg pedal. 2 and a half miles from the door it returned but in familiar surroundings I just gritted and limped in.
My host, Kelly gave me 4 Advil saying that’s the maximum in one go I should take. The pain did not ease until 9pm tonight and I can still feel it a bit (at 2am). Any complacency I might have had about reaching the coast disappeared in what should have been a nothing cycle today. I’m now loaded up with Advil for the days ahead. Kelly recommends taking them with breakfast before any pain arrives. I’m game for that but frightened of it returning. As awful as the pain is it’s the fact that I can’t get very far that worries me. Or get anywhere.
It will be sad leaving here in the morning. They’ve let me become so much a part of their family but it’s time to move on to chase this dream I long since seem to have forgotten why. I haven’t seen Phoenix at all but I never particularly wanted to. Instead I’ve been more than happy to witness so much of everyday American suburban life, to watch to listen, to participate.
In an expensive (for me) Italian restaurant I’ve listened to a, mostly quiet man, espouse his conspiracy theories of the FBI killing JFK, Bobby Kennedy, and Martin Luther King. The same man also believes in the current theory of the US navy having downed Flight 800 with one of its own missiles. Apart from this episode this Greek American only became animated when talking about work and enterprise, which unfortunately for me was computing.
His wife was good fun and yet funny. When told of a mutual friend of hers and my hosts who still couldn’t drive and chose not to, to the extent that he was familiar with all the bus routes, she described that as showing classic signs of anxiety. She works in Behavioural Analysis and admitted her 17 and a half year old son (her description of his age) accuses her of always trying to analyze people.
On a deck chair I watched soccer matches with parents listening to their analysis. They have little concept of the fact that it is a team game - unless you count the referees of which they use two simultaneously. Whenever a pass is made - one per game - it’s treated like a goal. No kid can make a mistake. There are no lessons to be learned. You are cheered and rewarded regardless of what happened in the match. Every parent seems afraid to not shower cheers upon their son/daughter - except for one and he is reportedly a former international for a Middle Eastern nation. He walks up and down the sideline shouting “Jesus Christ” (at a YMCA game) in criticism of his son who is clearly the best player on the pitch.
I like the youngest daughter. She’s a tomboy. Last night she made my bed for me and put the big teddy (Michael) and the small teddy (Spike) on it for me. In church on Sunday when the food coupon system was announced that it also included non-grocery stores like JC Penny’s and The Gap, she nudged me and told me her clothes were from The Gap. I nudged her back and told her my purple shorts were from JC Penny’s.
There’s a sameness and a cleanliness about the neighbourhoods in The Valley of the Sun that’s ugly. Today cycling from Apache Junction through Mesa and Tempe I saw no difference. The lack of grass I liked. The cacti in the stones along roadsides and in peoples gardens I liked. But. But that’s all there is. So little variety, so little character. Mobile home parks for senior citizens. More expensive houses for younger families. but it’s like that forever. All 22 miles of it along Broadway today. No difference. It blends into one and nothing is remarkable. From driving around the last few days only downtown Tempe by the University with all its coffee shops was interesting to the eye, and it was tiny.
In amongst all the sameness people have lives. They look for better houses and better cars, sending their children to better schools and they then go to better gyms. It’s a drive-in city populated by rather a lot of Stepford Wives and Husbands. Even the more interesting people aren’t all that varied. It’s like “Thirtysomething” 10 years on.
There is no television during the week at my hosts. Even then some things are banned like The Simpsons because the parents were portrayed as stupid. It’s not something that ever occurred to me but they’re one of the first people I know to have at least thought about a program and then decided against it for reasons they believe in. That’s admirable, even if The Simpsons are very funny.
All meals are eaten as a family and grace is always said communally. Sundays after church and the kids help Dad make his traditional pancake breakfast. Night-time walks with the dogs are taken regularly as a family. The dad is involved in a legal dispute with his employers - the hospital - after 16 years of loyal service. Against dishonesty in the workplace he has fought back and managed to combine time with the family. They have very strong beliefs but they’re very tolerant. They’re refreshingly un-materialistic.
The kids are good and I’ve enjoyed each of their company but then the teen years are ahead of them. In the morning I’ll say good-bye and I will miss them. It’s now time to think of myself again. This trip is so selfish so self-indulgent, but if it were not then I would not have come so far.
Having now booked the Amtrak from San Diego on the 24th to Kansas City and then on to Boston on December 3rd I have a date to chase with or without my bad legs.
Read the Next Entry (#75) in My Bicycle Trip Across America
Read the Previous Entry (#73) in My Bicycle Trip Across America
Read more from my Cycle Across America
The excerpts forming Part 74 were written in Tempe, Arizona on November 11, 1996.
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