Prescott, AZ to Salome AZ
And let the beatings continue…….
The wind has become sick and tired of the light and fluffy daily reports we have been posting lately. The wind no longer wants to hear about nature’s scenic beauty, perfect weather or the good bike spirits being with us. The cycling fantasy world we have rode for the past few days came to an end today.
Our morning started with the sun shining and pleasantly cool temperatures. Prescott is in the higher elevations of Arizona around 6000 feet. We left the Hampton Inn at 7:15 and started a relatively easy climb over the mountain.
Once we cleared the mountaintop a winding road of switchbacks appeared below us. This turned out to be one of the better downhills of the tour. Fast turning and with only one-way traffic made this decent fun and fast.
But the fun and games ended abruptly at the valley floor when the wind handed down its sentence……20 to 25 mile per hour head winds without the possibility of parole.
The beautiful and colorful rock formations of the last few days were replaced with a bland flat landscape of low-lying brush and occasional cactus.... But at least you still had the surrounding mountains to look at in the distance through the clear sky. The wind was a steady 20 to 25 mph blowing in our face.
The wind robs you of one of you important cycling senses. That sense is hearing. All cyclists use their ears as well as their eyes and mirror to detect approaching traffic. When you have the wind screaming in your ears you loose the “eyes in the back of your head” so to speak.
About 15 miles outside the town of Congress we spotted another cyclist with panniers. He was flying from the opposite direction with the wind at his back.
The rider an economics teacher on his way to Chicago from San Diego. He was no cyclo-touring amateur either. Harley (the cyclist) was on his 9th tour from the west coast to Chicago! He was using part of the RAAM route as were we on this trip. Just before we departed he spotted one of Ken’s custom made mirrors and asked about it. “Email me when you get back home and I will make you one” Ken told him. We exchanged information and parted ways.
I think the wind was upset with our momentary socializing with Harley. It did not like the smiles on our faces as we chatted. It only likes to see pain and suffering.
Our little wagon train was now in for even more punishment. Our new sentence would be 25 to 30 mile per hour winds heated like a blast furnace to 90+ degrees. And the clincher, this would be high winds of blowing dust off the baron landscape. The huge mountains we once could see in the distance became nearly invisible now by the blowing dust.
Just what a cyclist needs to make for a perfect day. Heat, headwinds and air filled with fine dust to breathe. Gosh what else could anyone want? Air to ground lightning?
The availability of water to replenish supplies on the bikes in this part of Arizona are few and far between. And as far as motels go…. well forget it. We knew there were only two choices about 100 miles down the road. The “International Inn” …sounds impressive right? And another real sweetheart, the infamous Sheffler’s Motel. We could see the “International” was a real low life dump directly connected to the local bar. We went with Sheffler’s.
We knew this was a nice town when we stopped at the town’s only grocery store. The outside of the establishment was completely surrounded by a six-foot tall steel bar fence with razor wire garnishing the top. The windows and doors also had bars covering them. After we passed through the open gate I was not sure if this was a store or the entrance to San Quentin.
When we arrived at Sheffler’s we knew this was a 5-Star motel. The glowing red neon tubes surrounding the building was a dead give away. We asked the 150 year old women running the place where we could get some dinner locally. Well in the town of Salome AZ there are no restaurants. Just a gas station that will fix a flat change your oil and whip you up the most disgusting pizza you could ever want.
This would be our reward for a day of pain and suffering. Undercooked gas station pizza and a sleaze bag motel. Got to love it….
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