Our road trip from Deming, New Mexico to Phoenix, AZ can be found HERE.
A late start out of Deming, New Mexico, we stopped briefly [again] at Walmart before jumping on to I-10 for the 330 miles to Phoenix at 80mph. We stopped at the New Mexico/Arizona border for the usual photo-op.
Zipping along I-10 at 80mph, we stopped, as usual at the border crossing.
The railroad was a constant companion throughout the South and Southwest. Both of us continued to develop an appreciation for how rail moved product and merchandise across the country.
US90 and I-10 paralleled the railroad, which were non-stop throughout the day
After biking through scores of miles of nowhere, we continued to travel by car through hundreds of miles of nowhere. The Arizona desert was stark, spare and largely featureless, until we saw a familiar billboard.
I know what you're thinking: "Fresh jerky? Really? Isn't that oxymoronic?"
If you've traveled CA395 between Mojave and Mammoth Lakes - and I have, 50-100 times over 30 years - the "Really Good Fresh Jerky Signs" dot the highway from as far away as 100 miles. You think "Is this a joke?" But, it's not.
We drew ever near...and had to stop.
While the original jerky shack in Olancha was just a shack, this location was upscale.
Gas, jerky and honey...a must-stop in Bowie, AZ.
So, we stepped in and had the pleasure of meeting Dwayne, the co-owner of Dwayne's Fresh Jerky.
Dwayne, the co-owner, talked jerky with us. Even better, he allowed me to ask him the question: "Fresh jerky? Fresh? Really?"
Dwayne explained that what made his jerky "fresh" was the use of only natural ingredients and the rapid turnover on the shelves.
Dwayne's store was attached to a gas station/C-store which carried the usual items, as well as some local bonuses.
Lani bought some jerky and I picked up some more honey. Hot coffee in the mug and with a fresh supply of jerky and honey, we moved on.
Stopping in Benson, AZ for gas, we took what should have been a short detour through town to return to I-10. Lani, however, saw an antique store that also had old/used books, which compelled us to stop. ( Benson, population 4,934 was founded in 1880 when the Southern Pacific Railroad came through, coming overland from California and chose this area to cross the San Pedro River.
My iPhone allowed Lani to detect the presence of book stores in the smallest of towns.
Lani picked up a few books, including an interesting book on Chinese proverbs published in 1946. I spotted a copy of The Communist Manifesto by Engels and Marx for $7.50, published in 1947 which I couldn’t pass up.
The shop had a large array of collectibles, many from the Old West.
My Mom had a collection of Coca Cola collectibles. It covered a couple of walls and was artfully displayed. When I see Coke collectibles, I think of her. She was a member of the Coca Cola Collectors Club
With only clipless cycling shoes and sandals, we stopped at the Sports Authority in Phoenix for some decent running shoes.
We both picked up a pair of Nike Lunarglide 2, currently my preferred running shoe.
Phoenix was the largest city we'd been through in ages and is a legitimate tourist destination, but it was getting late, so we looked for a place to have dinner.
It was Lani who spotted the sticker on the STOP sign with a little Libertarian sentiment.
Using Yelp and TripAdvisor and filtering for "Mexican Food", we had dinner at Esi Es La Vida ("Such is Life"). We almost walked out when we saw the menu; it lacked the usual Mexican food menu items. It turned out that the restaurant reflected the cuisine of Mexico City. It was an excellent and memorable meal as we were exposed to a completely new flavor palette.
We had an outstanding fresh guacamole dip and a Filet Mignon done that introduced us to a new flavor palette.
After dinner, Lani met a friend she has known from 4th grade in Palm Beach Gardens, through UF.Steven Weiner came to Phoenix to teach physics at the Middle School and HS level.
Lani and Steve had known each other since 4th grade.
We sat down at a coffee shop for awhile. A long while. I sat inside, sucking up WiFi bandwidth. Steve and Lani chatted.
Lani and Steve had last each other a little over a year ago.
I had hoped to make it to Sedona, but by the time I could tear Steve and Lani apart, it was late...we headed towards the nearest Motel 6.
[Background: After the crash/fall on 4/13, with additional reflection by Lani on 4/14, we're becoming a road trip until we get to Washington state. Today, I am to take the Greyhound back to El Paso and return in a rented car that we can drive, one-way to the Northwest.]
Up, oatmeal cooked on the butane in the motel bathroom (note to self: look for microwave-safe cook wear), packed and walking to the alleged Greyhound stop at a Chevron about 1.3 miles away (there’s no taxi service in Deming) I was anxious about what the day held.
Armed with the information provided by Greyhound's automated phone service, I moved briskly down Deming's main road in the cool morning sun towards the Greyhound station at a alleged Chevron station. In transit, just to confirm, I called several times the local Greyhound number; no one answered. Wielding my iPhone and summoning the Google, I located the Chevron number at the same address as the alleged Greyhound and called. I was informed that the automated Greyhound number had given me the wrong address for the bus stop. Hey...Greyhound, was this a joke?...how many others had been similarly deceived? The nice lady at the Chevron station gave me the correct address. I diverted.
The 9:30am pick-up was only off by 4 hours, delayed by an overturned semi on I-10. So, instead of being back in Deming by 2pm and leaving for Phoenix that day, I was now looking at another night in Deming. Marvelous.
The bus ride itself to the Greyhound terminal in Deming was unremarkable. And, after a taxi ride, I found myself at the same car rental area at the El Paso airport I had used just 5 days ago.
Before you buy your next steak or package of ground meat, you might want to read up on factory farming. Existing only because of government farm subsidies, it features animals in close quarters and heavy antibiotic use.
The U.S. Government passes a farm bill at 5-year intervals that subsidize industrial farming, distorting our diet and affecting our health. Cheap corn produced here has a negative effect on emerging, 3rd World economies, contributing to poverty.
Your ability to supersize your Whopper comes at the expense of impoverished farmers in emerging economies. It also means that your fast food, as well as anything where the ingredients label say "partially hydrogenated soybean oil" is tax-subsidized.
So, another day, was pretty much wasted.
On the other hand, it gave us another chance to look for some authentic New Mexico cuisine, which we found at Campos Restaurant in Deming. I had a great chimichanga (essentially a deep-fried burrito, the origin of which is steeped in Mexican food lore) with green chile. (Green chiles are those that are picked unripe; they are fire-roasted, then peeled before further use.) Yum.
Tomorrow: the road trip begins...to Phoenix...and beyond.
It sounds quiet outside, but a quick check of www.wunderground.com indicated 14mph headwinds, getting worse throughout the day. Following yesterday's debacle, Lani remained resolute on the current plan: a circuitous road trip to Washington state, then bike East. We'd being in Deming at least long enough for me to procure a rental car that we could drive, one-way to Seattle, or thereabouts. But, for now, we needed something locally...in Deming.
Speaking of Deming (population=14116), it was founded 1881 and, like every other town we've seen since entering Texas, Deming owes its existence to the railroad and the completion of the Second Transcontinental Railroad, named after Mary Ann Deming Crocker, wife of Charles Crocker, one of The Big Four of the railroad industry. The Silver Spike was driven here in 1881 to commemorate the meeting of the Southern Pacific with the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroads. Nothing like Big Business in Local Politics.
Deming has a single car rental location at the airport. Bob, from Desert Car Rental picked me up. I drove off with the only one of his 8 cars, a Ford Focus; $45 for the day with 100 free miles. Lani and I took off for nearby parts unknown.
We stopped first at the City of Rock, a New Mexico state park. The park encouraged RVs and tent camping and, for only $5, you had some pretty modern facilities. We went for a walk.
I love a good cactus garden.
Given space to garden, I go for fruit-bearing trees, preferably sub-tropicals and citrus. If I only have a few square yards, I plant tomatoes, herbs and spices. If I have to plant something inedible, it's either roses or cacti. The park had a small cactus garden with some of the cacti flowering.
This is, clearly, an example of the Kingcup Cactus, featuring large flowers and edible fruit. Yum.
The Chihuahuan Desert has been poorly studied, but may be the most biologically diverse desert in the world, whether measured on species richness, although the region has been heavily degraded over time.
Lani and I went for a walk around the park.
Lani left the cactus garden and stepped into theCity of Rocks.
When Susan and I bought our first Santa Monica home in 1985, the garden areas in the backyard and all around the fence perimeter were planted with a species of Agave that had a wicked serrated edge and a steely-hard spike at each tip.
The heart of the Blue Agaveis removed when it is 12 years old, fermented and then distilled to produce one of the most repellant liquors known to humankind, Tequila.
Do they serrated edges and spiked tip look sharp? In reality, they are way sharper than they look...killer sharp.
I can't tell you how many times I'd be gardening in our backyard, trying to clear out the grass that would grow underneath and I would hear the agave whisper "gotcha" as it drew blood. I tolerated them until Lani was born and then ripped them all out for safety reasons.
Pottery, arrowheads, and other artifacts show evidence of prehistoric Indians in the area. Indian wells, or conical holes, are found in the rocks where water would be allowed to collect.
The park provides opportunities for walks, hiking, camping, picnicking, wildlife viewing, and dark night-sky viewing (including a 14-inch telescope).
If you pitched a tent, you were far enough from anyone to feel quite alone. The camp facilities included a shared shower. A great deal for $5.
There were many interesting rock formations.
I'm sure we are the only people to have ever done this. Lani pulled a similar stunt with a much more convincing outcome here.
Almost done with the rocks.
Lani and her dad.
The City of Rocks is appropriately named.
Panorama stiched from 3 images. If you want a 12' wide poster, let me know.
Having seen enough rocks, we took a drive to Silver City, population=10545,once an Apache Campsite and an area that was overrun by American prospectors in the 1860s, becoming a full-fledged city in 1870 after the discovery of silver. Mining (in copper) is still the basis for the local economy, followed by tourism, retirement and trade. Why Silver City? Well, while we were biking on I-10, there were several large billboards imploring me to visit.
Approaching Silver City, there was the usual dusty Western sprawl of increasing congestion approaching the most interesting part of the city, the part near the University. Once there, we parked and walked…and endless array of art galleries and coffee shops.
We looked for a suitable establishment for lunch, preferably something representative of the New Mexico cuisine featuring green chiles that I'd recently heard of. We stumbled into the Jalisco Cafe, which turned out to be a great call. We hadn't known it was mentioned in the seminal article 36 Hours in Silver City, N.M. in the NY Times.
The chips and salsa were excellent but the green chile...a new taste sensation for us. In fact, pretty much every menu item was slathered in either green or red chile. The menu warns you to know what you're ordering before its served. It was a memorable meal.
We walked around the shops on Bullard Street, a home to many quaint stores.
Lani is attracted to stores that involve crafts. Clever name.
Lani was then sucked into this book store which featured a large selection of old and used books.
Books...lots of old books...lordy, this is boring. Where can Bob go to have a cup of coffee and a good chocolate chip cookie?
Coffee shops were everywhere and the Javalina Coffee House was nearby.
Coffee, a chocolate chip cookie, WiFi and Bob is good. The atmosphere was, obviously, informal and the crowd local.
Returning late in the afternoon, Lani confirmed that a new phase of our trip would commence and continue until we reached Washington State. The problem: how to get a car with a one-way rental. In case you’re wondering, the answer lies in renting from a major car rental center, like a major airport. The nearest one was El Paso, Texas, 100 miles back East. (Didn't I already rent a car from the El Paso airport?) So, I’m on a Greyhound tomorrow morning and,if nothing goes wrong like last time, I’ll be back by early afternoon. Lani has a friend in Phoenix and had already arranged for some critical bike parts to be shipped there. We’re planning on camping at a park about an hour outside Phoenix.
You can see our route from Las Cruces, NM to Deming, NM HERE.
Windows open overnight, the temperature quickly dropped in our KOA cabin to the 50s…great for sleeping.
50°F? Of course I'm fully dressed...it's as cold in here as it was outside. Otherwise, it's oatmeal as usual on the butane.
We stepped out our KOA cabin into the brisk air with the dawn just beyond the Mesilla Valley mountains.
I love sunrises and sunsets (who doesn't?), but photographing them is a challenge because the luminance dynamic range is so extreme. I usually carry a 4x graduated neutral density filter, but left mine at home. Without the filter, you have to chose between properly exposing the sky or the foreground. Here, the sky dominates at the expense of detail in the foreground. Oh well.
Leaving the campground, we faced a short, steep climb out of the Mesilla Valley to I-10. This was going to be our first segment on an interstate.
Lani had called the New Mexico Department of Transportation and confirmed that biking on the interstate was legal in remote areas where there was no other option.
Having lived in Santa Monica, CA for 14 years where I-10 is known as the Santa Monica Freeway, I-10 has a special place in my heart. I also know I-10 where it meets the Atlantic Coast in Florida. I was sorta excited to hop on in the middle of the country.
The 54 miles from Las Cruces to Deming would be along the I-10 shoulder. In spite of the traffic zipping by at 70+ miles per hour, I felt pretty safe; the shoulder was wide and most of the vehicles shifted to the inside lane as they passed us. The quality of the shoulder, unfortunately, sucked and slowed us down. What was really cool was when a big rig passed us at high speed right along the shoulder and you could draft.
Even though the adjacent traffic was zipping along the wide shoulder gave us a nice safety margin. Unfortunately, the quality of the shoulder sucked. Drafting in the slipstream of passing trucks helped.
Exits on this segment of I-10 were far and few, but they would announce themselves with a marketing vengeance.
Hillbilly figurines? Are you joking me? And you "gots bears, & elephants too", as well as the inability to punctuate? Was I missing a hot collectible? If it does not have its own Wikipedia entry, you know it's esoteric.
The marketing onslaught intensified as the exit neared.
In many areas, there was a feeder road paralleling the interstate. They were often in a great shape, turn to gravel, or disappear at which point you'd have to return to the interstate. So, we just stayed on the interstate.
Biking through the miles of nowhere I would often think "this would be a great place for a maximum security prison." The state of New Mexico thought likewise.
There were these guys in orange jump suits trying to hitch a ride and I was going to stop and let one sit on each of my panniers..good thing I saw this sign.
The winds were light and even though the shoulder was in poor shape, it should have been a completely uneventful 54 miles to Deming. Should have.
I had been biking behind Lani for nearly 1600 miles and had observed that she biked with her head down, like she was fixated on a spot just feet in front of her. I'd occasionally shout out "Hey...look around...check out the scenery." That would last for a few seconds, then she'd look down again.
We approached a Border InspectionStation with some construction along the way. During the approach, large barrels were situated in our path to mark some construction. Lani, biking with her head down, did not appear to see them; I called out to her “Heads up!” She said “thanks” and we biked around them until we took our place in the traffic line at the inspection station. No big deal. We were waved through the inspection station.
Leaving the inspection station, we returned to the shoulder where more of the orange barrels were situated in our path. Lani deliberately moved right and biked around the first few and then, head down, she aimed dead on into a barrel. She collided with the barrel and went down pretty hard. I barely avoided her before I went down, but not as hard. Her left arm was bloodied and she was shaken. My flag pole snapped.
The collision re-set the tone for the day.
I can't recall the last time I really raised my voice at Lani, let alone swear at her...maybe never (I'm not much of a swearer), but this could have been horrendous and it was totally stupid and avoidable.
Eventually, we got back on our bikes, but this set the tone for the rest of the day. The winds worsened and Lani’s progress (and, therefore, mine) dropped to a relative crawl. To make matters even worse, she had another near mishap where the shoulder meets the dirt…we had our first all-out shouting match with each other as tempers flared.
I apologized to Lani for shouting at her (as well as for the profanity) and we returned to our usual daughter-father relationship. I took a look at her arm.
It could have been a lot worse. This is why I always travel with Ibuprofen in the industrially-sized 800mg size.
I never appreciated how the railroads were such a part of the Southern corridor. Watching the parallel rails meet at infinite, I thought of the summer job my Mom had landed me in 1975, taking apart railroad track with a long crowbar, pulling out the spikes. I made $5/hr, netting $161 and change for the week.
The passing loops on each track allows for one train to "park" and another to pass.
Finally arriving in Deming, picking up some fresh produce at the Walmart and sandwiches at Subway, we reverted to normal in the motel room. The windy conditions had clearly changed the experience for Lani and what was once fun was no longer…she was prepared to change the nature of this portion of our sojourn from a bike trip to a road trip, resuming the biking from Washington State.
I’m not sure how I feel about that…actually, I do…I’m disinclined. It changes the nature of my self-proclaimed unequivocal experience, it makes the title Doctor Bob’s Bike Blog inaccurate and it feels a bit like cheating. Actually, a lot like cheating.
And, what about the exercise? I needed the exercise...badly. I had been counting on the 6-8 hours of daily biking to help me with the sucky weight gain that had accompanied the past year of androgen deprivation therapy. What now?
Anyway...
I had proposed a day off, renting a car to head to Silver City and the cliff dwellings as the wind forecast for tomorrow were even worse than today…
