Day 9 - Part 2 - Quartzsite and on to Brenda

After leaving the library where I chatted online with friends and discussed my journey, I headed to the post office to mail the drivers license and credit cards for the young woman who had them stolen the night before.

When leaving the library, I met a gentleman I believe his name was Bob, who was originally from Canada. He asked about my journey and where I was headed next. I told him about the need to get to the post office. He said, “That's one thing about Americans, they really are good people. You are good people.” We discussed that most folks are inherently good, but of course you do bump into an a$$ here and there along the way, and fortunately, we agreed that we have learned to steer clear of them. They are like ants and burrow by the thousands together and generally, there is a “queen” or a “king” that is their master. We both agreed that money, to many, is their master.

Bob told me of a gentleman he has met a few times over the past few years who 17 years ago decided to effectively leave society's trappings. He got an oversized tricycle with baskets, and recently, a dog. He has pedaled his way around the 48 continental United States. When asked how he supported himself for those years, he advised he recycled cans. He pedaled at a very slow pace, saw every can that was strewn on the roadsides like flotsam, and made a living off of the inconsideration of polluters. Just a few years ago, the tricyclist reached retirement age and began collecting social security benefits. He became one of the richest men alive. Bob and I wished each other a safe life's journey.

Just outside the post office I saw a sign that said, Gary's Produce – OPEN Fresh Fruits and Vegetables. Game on! I could certainly use some good fresh fruit finally from a roadside stand.

In the post office, I mentioned what it was I was sending and I wanted it sent overnight to assure the woman gets her belongings as quickly as possible. I was assured it would be delivered by Thursday at 4:00 PM. I developed a slack jawed appearance. Maybe it was due to the heat. I said to the postman behind the counter, “I want this delivered overnight.”

He said, “Yes.”

I retorted, “But, isn't tomorrow, Wednesday?”

“Yes.”

My jaw drooped again.

“Yes, but we don't have any overnight delivery guaranteed from this post office. It's too remote.”

Now that made sense!

I shuffled out the door with a smile on my face thinking, the world doesn't have to work at my anticipated pace. The world sure as hell ain't gonna change for me. I can adapt to it if it ain't broke.

I saddled up on my bike and made my way behind the post office about 50 yards to what looked like a small one story barn. I rode across the gravel and announced my arrival that I would be riding into the store as I saw the “shop” keeper at Gary's Produce to get out of the sun.

Mike greeted me and offered me a plastic bag to house my produce. I stared longingly at bananas, grapefruits, cantaloupes, oranges, tomatoes, and broccoli. I grabbed all the fruits. I didn't have the desire to make a broccoli souffle – I'd have to chase down a few chickens or ducks. It just wasn't worth the time.

Mike and I chatted as a few customers came in and made their obligatory financial exchange for earth's bounties. Mike was recently married in July, after meeting Judy in Quartzsite just a half year earlier at a Christian mission. He told me of his travels on the Appalachian Trail, various employments, including painting in Alabama, construction in Florida, security guard for a gold mine in Oregon where bears entered his camp. While consuming much of the fruit, Mike's new wife entered the “store.” She had been a teacher in Saudi Arabia and we discussed hedgehogs (one resided in my household, thankfully temporarily – it smelled worse than a dozen ferrets rummaging through a steamy Burger King dumpster). Mike told his wife, about my journey which certainly intrigued, but not necessarily surprised her. It seems everyone in this part of the world has nomadic blood.

Because it was 4:00, it was time for the produce stand to close. I was effectively told to close up the shop so they could go back to the RV park where they reside to have dinner. I read a bit of my book I have been toting on the journey and decided it was time to close up shop and start pedaling toward Brenda – another long ascent. Closing the shop meant going out the open back side of the “store.” No lock, no alarm, no bars, no doors and I headed east.

I stopped at a small grocery store about the size of an oversized stand alone 7-11 called the Road Runner Market. I filled up my water containers with the $0.25 gallon reverse osmosized, double carbon filtered, shaken and baked water. Now, please keep in mind for yourself in the future, if you are ever in the desert and want to fill up your water and you have a choice, use a water dispenser on the east side of a building in the late afternoon and not the south side. That's my advice to you my friend. I learned that slugging down 100 degree water for hydration purposes is NOT enjoyable.

As I sat outside the store, resting in the shade behind an earthen colored column, several patrons stopped to my right and looked at the message board. What I saw on there were motor homes, trailers, plumbing, cleaning and roofing services, and a general handyman. One bright eyed woman of about 70 jokingly accused me of hiding to avoid her and her new posting to the board to which I could only reply, "Well, I am rather stealthy with my fair skin and bicycle that looks pregnant."

I came to note that roughly half of the patrons visited the board before entering the store. This was where business networking was done. This was the Quartzsite version of Craigslist.com. I affectionately termed it, Roadrunner's Wall.

Roadrunner's Wall

Quartzsite's Roadrunner Market

A tedious but not arduous 7 mile ascent awaited. At this time, I must tell my readers that on an ascent, I have learned about the joys of trucks. Each has it's inherent goodness for bicyclists, but some goodness is greater than others. I don't know my trucks very well, but I learned something important on that 7 mile climb. Give me a road full of aerodynamically designed tractors with 53' closed 13.5' high trailers headed in the same direction as I, and most importantly about 10 to 15 feet away from me, and I'll be happy! Those types significantly assisted my climb. Now, as for the hay carrying double trailers that create a veritable dust storm and buffet the air, forced me to grip hard onto my handlebars, but they still offered positive forward and upward progress. I stopped for a photo with the evening sun hitting the mountain I was climbing. I was taken by the orangeish hue that transformed the brown mountain.

Upon reaching the peak, I noted my front tire was a bit soft. On Interstate 10, I pulled over with the intermittent headlights of trucks, vans, cars and motorcycles and my own halogen headlight dismounted from the handle bars and bitten in my mouth for visibility. I added air to my tire and proceeded.

I reached SR 60 at dark. Desolate. I proceeded downhill to Brenda and the RV parks in pitch darkness save for my little headlamps. On my way downhill, my tire went flat again. I hopped off and pumped it and proceeded. One quarter mile later. Flat. As I continued downhill, my tire went flat again. I hopped off and pumped it and proceeded. One quarter mile later. Flat. This happened multiple times and I began to feel like an Indy pit crew tire guy. Finally, not know exactly how much further I had to go, I decided to cut my losses and change the tube in the dark on a desolate road. With all the saddlebags and tied down items on the bike it certainly can become cumbersome, but I accomplished the task and yanked a single staple out of the triple guard puncture proof tires.

And so I proceeded to the Brenda RV Resort – office hours from 9:00 AM until 4:00 PM. So at 7:45 PM, what's a brother to do. I had to put on my dollar store 1.75 magnification glasses and read what to do and not be told. In some cases, like when I'm exhausted, I like to be told what to do. So there's an honor system envelope and directions to the open spaces in the 204 space park. I didn't pay because I had no cash. I'll be mailing them a check from the online banking when I get to wireless service somewhere.) The great big RVS in the park surrounding my little 2 pound tent and bicycle showed me no ill will. I got into my bedding and zonked out.

Below is a view in the morning of the 10th day. Stanley looks way to chipper for 6:15 AM.