I Hate Why I'm Riding – But I'm Ecstatic I'm Riding

So Ms. FedEx showed up on Wednesday at 3:30 at the Ranger station making it impossible to ascend through Black Jack Canyon and the Blue Lue Mountains in just a few hours. The 14 mile climb to 6,200 feet would be feasible if I was jacked up on performance enhancing drugs like Alberto Contador, But alas, it is I, your humble non-performance enhancing writer.

So I bid farewell to some of the employees I had gotten to know at the Ranger station, advising I would be leaving in the early morning. As I was changing tires on my bicycle, a very tall man rode up on his bicycle looking for someone at the ranger station to guide him where he may camp. I gave him the low down on the arrangements and sent him to the appropriate location at the site. I completed my repairs and went to set up my tent once again near my new friend from Sweden, Bjorn Stürnberg.

Big Bjorn and Little Tim

This is the time when I realized I was a Lilliput.

We discussed our respective adventures. He was traveling from New York City to San Diego, then on to Central America. While we made and ate our dinners, we discussed a variety of topics including transportation in the US and Europe and shared the highlights of our journeys. Like Bjorn, I also despise pollution on roadsides. It is an affront to decency that so many people have the audacity to use roadways as a dumping site.

We bedded down for the night, Bjorn in his one-person tent and I climbed into my two-person tent. Now mind you, the two-person tent is a bit of a misnomer in the case of my tent. For the right person, I may be willing to make it a two-person tent. But, don't get your hopes up there. Two's a crowd in this tent and I think I snore, especially with the feather sleeping bag.

In the middle of the night as I arose to make certain all liquids stayed outside of my tent, I was entertained by the Leonid Meteor Shower – but briefly. I was in a pair of boxer shorts and it was approximately 30 degrees outside.

In the morning as the sun crested the hills in the east, I crept from my tent and immediately went to plug in my laptop and cell phone at the accessible outlets at the Ranger station. I toddled back to the campsite and began breaking down my tent and started packing while making some hot maple oatmeal with raisins, and peanut butter. (If you have never done so, try this recipe and you will thank me, I assure you unless you have a peanut allergy of course, then you can use SunButter, made from sunflower seeds.)

At the campsite, the water fountain I had used the prior night no longer worked. I realized after looking around the area, that the pipes must have been frozen. I looked at the outdoor shower and indeed, there was an icicle hanging from the faucet. I took a photo to remind myself that it gets cold in the desert.

Outside shower! If I wasn't such a wimp of the cold, I would have showered...but I'm a wimp.

After assisting Bjorn with a minor bike repair, he hopped on his steed and headed west. A few minutes later, I started east into the foreboding hills. After a few days rest and some relatively good nutrition, I figured I would be fine. Approximately 10 miles into the climbing ride, I stopped for a lunch of refried beans and salsa followed by a Clif bar and some sport recovery drink. While eating and drinking, I was being stared down by an enormous vertical ascent with several switchbacks. I watched the few cars that traverse the AZ & NM Rt 78 ascend and descend the mountain. It took cars forever to go either direction!

I love the view of the upheaval of the sedimentary rock. I'm a geologist at heart I suppose.

After a few minutes of rest after my culinary masterpiece, I hopped on F.G. Superman and we sped rode up the mountain. On the ascent I remembered why I hated being on this journey. I broke down several times wailing for my children, whom I miss so dearly. I had to come to a complete halt and release the tears more times than I would like to recall. I cried out their pet names I gave them both when they were very little. It felt so good to scream their names, but at the same time was a tragic sense of loss – lost time, lost love, lost souls. I yearn for Gretel and Bauer. I despise the fact that I don't get to see my children, but they are constantly with me every spin of my wheel, every click of my cleats and gears, and every breath that I take. I truly know, one day they will see me for who I really am and not the supposed terroristic person others have portrayed me to be.

As I looked around, I noted some strange differences in the vegetation on either side of the canyon. On the south side, there were numerous tall and what appeared to be pine trees, but on side of the canyon on which I was riding, were scrubby bushes. 

Finally, after hours of the ascent, due to my weeping, photography and exhaustion, I found myself at the crest of the pass which meant a delightful descent. I reached speeds of 40 mph and enjoyed the exhilaration of this for a bit until another few switchback ascents popped their heads up in front of me. On my descent it was an amazing few miles. Just at the crest of the pass there were definitive desert plants, just upon the descent were gorgeous 50 foot pine tree forests. 

New Mexico baby!

Just as I stopped, a large bird of prey departed the tree on the right. It was an amazingly majestic flight!

As I rounded another final ascent, I was greeted by what appeared to be an African savannah with grasses and sparse trees. It was an amazing ecologic and environmental transformation in such as short distance.

As I sped down the mountain, I was greeted in the middle of the road by a peccary. I'm not 100% certain, but I think I said, “Oooh, oooh, oooh!” like Arnold Horseshack on Welcome Back Kotter when I saw the porcine princess. Much to my chagrin, I was unable to unleash my camera in time before the little piggy scurried into the tall grass and out of sight.

Ultimately, I rolled into the “village” of Mule Creek, where I intended to mail a completed book and a few pairs of extra socks to my lovely neighbors who have been in receipt of my junk over the past month. I pulled up to the post office, located just 50 yards from Rt. 78, strode into the federal office and found no one working there. Like many hours of stores, shops, etcetera that I have found, the posted hours for the post office were not to my liking at 4:00 PM.  7 AM to 1 PM – mail received before 10:30 gets today's postmark. Otherwise, it's the next mail day's post mark. Sigh. 

Note, I was hanging my sweaty clothing on the Mule Creek Post office railing.

I did see a phone list as of November 2010 for the Mule Creek residents. This list also include other important phone numbers such as for the school in Cliff, AAA towing from Safford and Silver City, the Cattle Inspector, the Forest Fire Dispatch for both AZ and NM.

I stepped outside, took off my sweaty shirts to allow them to air dry and sat down to read a few minutes before taking off to the east. A few P.O. Box users at this desolate location stopped by for their mail. I met Jesse and Judith Watkins, retirees from Texas who returned to Mule Creek, from whence Jesse was reared to raise cattle. We chatted a bit about the simplicity of life in this locale and the natural beauty and my cycling adventure. As we parted company, they insisted they give me $20 toward my fundraising efforts, for which I was unquestionably thankful.

Soon after the Watkins' departed, I met Tasha Allsup as I was cooking my dinner of cream of potato soup. We chatted briefly and I found out her son was the face I saw in the post office earlier. Her 17 year old son, BJ Hayes, is representing the US in arm wrestling championships being held in Mesquite, NV. Needless to say, she was a very proud mother.

Mule Creek's version of Craigslist

By this time, it was nearly dark. I pitched my tent on the south side of the post office, and began thinking and writing...

Frost cascaded into my tent as I unzipped my tent to greet the day with a surly rooster calling reveille. It was approximately 6:30 AM, an especially late start for the avian caller. I crawled out of my tent and assessed the morning sunshine creeping over the horizon while feeling a significant chill in the air. I strode around the corner of the post office that was the size of a really nice lawn and garden shed, to the front door to assess how cold it really was. My instinct was that it was near freezing temperature. Various parts of my body retracted when I noted the temperature was 18 degrees. Out of curiosity, I checked my water supply. Yup. Frozen lines connected to the removable water bladders and the tops of my water bottles.

As I prepared to make my breakfast of oatmeal, a woman pulled into the parking lot. I asked if she was the Postmistress of Mule Creek. She, Debra Wetzel, responded affirmatively. I grabbed my articles to be mailed and we conducted our transaction. I stepped back outside to begin boiling water for my breakfast delight and I returned inside to gain a bit of warmth from the enclosed space where the post office boxes were located to warm up a bit.

Debra and I chatted for a while about life in the very rural area such as Mule Creek with no cell phone service at all, limited internet service, and lots of open space. What a sweet soul. She was very understanding when I began to cry when we discussed our children. I provided her with a synopsis of my love for my children and the difficult circumstances in which I found myself. She advised she was quite familiar with a similar situation and encouraged me to be patient. Her acquaintance had to wait until his children were in their 30s to realize that their father was not the horrible person portrayed by their mother.

With my oatmeal cooked, I returned inside to allow the culinary delight to slither down my throat as I warmed up and completed the rest of my clothing preparations for the chilly morning ride. Debra provided me with full water containers that she contended was THE best water ever. Not being a connoisseur of water, I had to take her for her word. Miles down the road, I did note that the water was in fact very tasty.

Intersection of Rt 78 and 180

Kind of looks like the cowboy is being hanged...yes hanged. Mr. Stoneback would be proud I remembered I'm sure.

The ride was an especially gorgeous one despite the frosty weather. I rode with two long-sleeved shirts and a heavy jacket for 19 miles. I then stopped and had a lunch at the Last Chance Liquor Store in Buckhorn.

After I left this joint, I rode down the road approximately 2 miles to the spot where I was told I could get a cell phone signal - at the saddle shop! I pulled in front of the shop and my cell phone went wild with texts and emails from quite some time. But then I came to find out the signal comes and goes. I was unable to respond to all but one! I found out from the saddle shop's owner that it's best not to move your head if you have a signal. I moved unfortunately.

I pedaled down the road and had yet another tearful blast, thinking of my children. I pedaled on through Cliff and Riverside and found I got a cell phone signal by a road sign for Mangas.

I decided I shouldn't push on further into Silver City, another 18 miles of climbing to the Continental Divide. I pulled my bicycle around a guardrail and down a slight embankment into a small meadow covered by deciduous trees...a rarity I hadn't seen in a while. I made a quick dinner of refried beans and salsa and set up my tent and was serenaded to sleep by a flock of ducks resting on a creek a few hundred yards behind me.

I arose a few times in the middle of the night quite twisted in my sleeping bag and with a very chilly nose. I had to tuck my nose under the cover of the mummy sleeping bag to warm my sniffer.

When I finally arose for good in the morning, I had difficulty opening the tent zipper because of the heavy frost on the cover. When I took the framework apart from the tent, I could not separate the framework because the parts were  frozen together. I had to allow the sun to bear its warmth onto the framework as it stood against a tree to thaw the parts.

White stuff is frost shaken off of tent cover.

I bundled up, packed up and set off on my journey to Silver City that included a 14 mile climb to the Continental Divide. I was eager to get to Silver City because I had made contact through Warmshowers.org for one night and Couchsurfing.org for another to sleep indoors! I like sleeping outside, but hate freezing hands in the morning when I'm firing up my oatmeal!

Just one mile from here was my temporary destination! A shower, I made it hot instead of warm! 

I spent the day wandering around the town of Silver City visiting a few bike shops, grocery stores and a great massage therapist named Michael Cook! I was very thankful to see him because my hips are out of alignment. I needed a massage, a good night's sleep because tomorrow I'm visiting the Gila Cliff Dwellings and the Gila Hot Springs to dunk my butt in a natural hot spring to relieve some buttock issues!

To all my friends and readers, thank you for following my journey. I hope you are getting a bit of a geography lesson as well as I am! Just in case you were unaware, if you want to see any photo larger, simply click on it!

Peace! I'm off to bed!