Ouray is to Colorado as Sedona is to Arizona. Sedona above.
We have four days at the Sheraton in Tucson. The BMWs will take that long to be serviced
Ok, but Chef Ann serves the best homemade pies in Strawberry, AZJacob Lake, AZ to Tucson, AZ – 492 miles
Today’s ride was our longest. It’s from nearly the top of Arizona to nearly the bottom. Kevin (the tour organizer and Guinness Record Holder) asked us to ride as a group because he scheduled all the BMWs to be serviced in Tucson. He wanted to drop them all off before the shop closed at 6 PM. I always avoid riding in large motorcycle groups. It is inherently dangerous, especially if some of the group feel a need to prove their masculinity or are in a hurry to get somewhere.
This 492 mile ride was the most reckless one I’ve ever been on. About halfway Kevin figured out we would only arrive by 6 PM if he hurried. The ride to Strawberry (half way and our lunch stop) was fast and through twisty mountain roads. After Strawberry the riding became insane. When the posted speed limit was 55 mph, Kevin had us going 80 mph by my speedometer. With 17 motorcycles somebody was always too close, or passing you in your lane. At one point we had to urn left onto Route 188. We were coming off a mountain on a piece of straight road going 80mph. Instead of passing the exit he missed our leader broke hard and took the turn. Those behind had to check their rear view for cars, brake really hard and try to make the turn. The last four in the line didn’t make it. I had been in the right lane and when I checked my rear view there was an old, beat-up Caddy in the adjacent lane. I opted to try to stop on the shoulder and wait until traffic cleared. I grabbed the front brake and mashed down on the rear brake pedal. Thankfully I have ABS brakes, in the old days I would have slid down the mountain. When the four of us who fell behind re-joined the group they were going even faster.
Ordinarily I would have told them to bugger off and ride with Mac, but as the only Suzuki I wanted to stay with them for one crazy day. From now on they can go as recklessly as they please. I won’t be with them. I’ve been travelling since I was a teen, and I’ve spent enough time in he third world to know that if they keep this pace up they won’t all make it to Ushuaia.
I speak Spanish better than any of the others and will fare much better at reasonable pace. For me this is journey of exploration as well as an adventure. When Mac and I ride we stop often and talk with the locals to see what’s going on. This week we learned about Uranium sickness from the women in the mining town, we stopped at an outdoor market in a Navajo reservation town and discussed the various rug designs with a weaving woman. The style I like the most called ‘Ye’ depicts elongated, and stylized humanoid figures. They stretch from one side of the rug to the other. The Navajo say they reach from this world to the next and you can appeal to them and they can pass your message up. Mostly they just look nice.
Also this week we stopped at a yard sale in a very poor community on the outskirts of an Indian reservation. It was broiling hot and the houses were all small concrete block structures painted the same drab color as the local dirt. It looked like a horrid place to exist. We arrived as they were setting up and I spied a tiny compass on a lanyard that would be useful. There were six of them. Mac could use one too so I asked the price. The son said he didn’t know but would bring his Mom out. This middle aged Indian lady (Cherokee I think) came out and we chatted. I was prepared to pay no more than four dollars each. She looked me over and said they cost 25 cents. I was shocked. She was living here in poverty and should have charged couple of dollars a least. Mac stepped up and asked for two and gave her all of his U.S. change. He explained that we would be in Mexico soon and he didn’t want to carry the worthless coins for four months. She was pleased, as it wasn’t charity and we got our compasses. Later in the day we discovered that they each point to a different North. Oh well, the lanyards are nice.
Today’s ride was our longest. It’s from nearly the top of Arizona to nearly the bottom. Kevin (the tour organizer and Guinness Record Holder) asked us to ride as a group because he scheduled all the BMWs to be serviced in Tucson. He wanted to drop them all off before the shop closed at 6 PM. I always avoid riding in large motorcycle groups. It is inherently dangerous, especially if some of the group feel a need to prove their masculinity or are in a hurry to get somewhere.
This 492 mile ride was the most reckless one I’ve ever been on. About halfway Kevin figured out we would only arrive by 6 PM if he hurried. The ride to Strawberry (half way and our lunch stop) was fast and through twisty mountain roads. After Strawberry the riding became insane. When the posted speed limit was 55 mph, Kevin had us going 80 mph by my speedometer. With 17 motorcycles somebody was always too close, or passing you in your lane. At one point we had to urn left onto Route 188. We were coming off a mountain on a piece of straight road going 80mph. Instead of passing the exit he missed our leader broke hard and took the turn. Those behind had to check their rear view for cars, brake really hard and try to make the turn. The last four in the line didn’t make it. I had been in the right lane and when I checked my rear view there was an old, beat-up Caddy in the adjacent lane. I opted to try to stop on the shoulder and wait until traffic cleared. I grabbed the front brake and mashed down on the rear brake pedal. Thankfully I have ABS brakes, in the old days I would have slid down the mountain. When the four of us who fell behind re-joined the group they were going even faster.
Ordinarily I would have told them to bugger off and ride with Mac, but as the only Suzuki I wanted to stay with them for one crazy day. From now on they can go as recklessly as they please. I won’t be with them. I’ve been travelling since I was a teen, and I’ve spent enough time in he third world to know that if they keep this pace up they won’t all make it to Ushuaia.
I speak Spanish better than any of the others and will fare much better at reasonable pace. For me this is journey of exploration as well as an adventure. When Mac and I ride we stop often and talk with the locals to see what’s going on. This week we learned about Uranium sickness from the women in the mining town, we stopped at an outdoor market in a Navajo reservation town and discussed the various rug designs with a weaving woman. The style I like the most called ‘Ye’ depicts elongated, and stylized humanoid figures. They stretch from one side of the rug to the other. The Navajo say they reach from this world to the next and you can appeal to them and they can pass your message up. Mostly they just look nice.
Also this week we stopped at a yard sale in a very poor community on the outskirts of an Indian reservation. It was broiling hot and the houses were all small concrete block structures painted the same drab color as the local dirt. It looked like a horrid place to exist. We arrived as they were setting up and I spied a tiny compass on a lanyard that would be useful. There were six of them. Mac could use one too so I asked the price. The son said he didn’t know but would bring his Mom out. This middle aged Indian lady (Cherokee I think) came out and we chatted. I was prepared to pay no more than four dollars each. She looked me over and said they cost 25 cents. I was shocked. She was living here in poverty and should have charged couple of dollars a least. Mac stepped up and asked for two and gave her all of his U.S. change. He explained that we would be in Mexico soon and he didn’t want to carry the worthless coins for four months. She was pleased, as it wasn’t charity and we got our compasses. Later in the day we discovered that they each point to a different North. Oh well, the lanyards are nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment