Route 66 Day 2 September 15 2012

Route 66 Day 2

I think we all slept well last night after our almost 90 km-lots-of-uphill riding yesterday.

But yesterday's uphill, Bro Mark, Our Fearless Leader By Declaration, appropriately warns us will feel like the Little League compared to today's ride. We will all learn and confirm that he wasn't joking or exaggerating.

We all confer outside of the Copperstate Motel Room 9 (aka Central Command Headquarters for Commander In Chief Boss Hog Bro Mark Shelley) and decide not to go for the super sized he-man cardio collapsing breakfast at the one and only local diner.

(I believe the younger men in our expedition later evaluated this was a less effective choice, and would respectfully challenge this "eat a light breakfast" philosophy in the days ahead.)

So an alternative breakfast (at least for bro Mark and I) of ice cream sandwiches was secured at the local convenience store. I believe the meal would have been more nutritiously complete had I added a large Dr Pepper to the menu.

So refueled on our breakfast of simple carbs, we strike out west on Route 66.

But not exactly.

We actually have to get on US Interstate 40. But just for a few minutes.

(Most of Route 66 has been replaced by the Interstate System. But once we get off this short stretch of the Interstate, we will be pedaling on the longest remaining uninterrupted stretch of Route 66 -- 192 miles or 350 km.)

We all choose to be law abiding citizens obeying the sign on the Interstate commanding us to restrict our bicycle travel to the shoulder of the Interstate. I, for one, am very grateful for this piece of government insight because I was seriously thinking I would ride my bike in the automobile and truck lanes. I shudder at what a lost soul I would be in life without the profound and loving guidance provided by the Government of the United States of America! "0 Say, Can You See...."

Once we exit the Interstate, the magic of Route 66 begins. Or at least the uphill begins.

But so does the beauty of an Arizona desert after several weeks of frequent rains.

Up until today, my Arizona biking experiences have been in the areas of Prescott, Tucson, and Phoenix. Rather very very desert like.

Still desert here on the outskirts of Ash Fork in more central than southern Arizona. But this desert is alive. More specifically and delightfully alive with hours and hours of roadside Yellow Daises. Some of these flowering bushes are taller than my six foot, two inches. For sure a pleasant presence and contrast to the surrounding vast desert expanse.

But climb we do. Gradual and steep. I am struggling personally to find the fun in cycling at the moment. Part of the problem being I'm still not feeling real good, physically.

But eventually I come around a curve in the road and there Bro Mark stands beside the sign announcing the elevation of 5,700 feet. Recall that yesterday morning we left Prescott at an elevation of 5,300 feet. We've been up and down a lot. But mostly up.

After a brief and refreshing downhill glide, we reach yet another huge valley floor. We can see great distances in three directions. We can also see the road we travel shooting across the big valley as straight as an arrow. The road appears to "end" at the base of yet another mountain or at least hill range way way off in the distance.

And just to make the day more interesting, we are on yet another gradual incline and facing a annoyingly unpleasant headwind. Icing on the cake, so to speak.

All this amounts to what I call the psychological warfare aspect of cycling. If I were feeling better physically, I would embrace the challenge and adventure. But today, this segment of the highway will be remembered as a literal boring pain in the butt.

Enough with the complaining.

Eventually , and thankfully about lunch time, this long piece of straight road becomes Main Street, Seligman, Arizona.

Seligman was once a prosperous community on Route 66. Then came interstate 40. Then Seligman began to die.

Then came American ingenuity and free enterprise. The business persons of Seligman were disappointed that the Interstate made their Main Street a secondary Side Street. But they were still the historic Route 66.

So park a bunch of old and classic cars along the streets and in the parking lots. Use bright lights and colors to emphasize the historic soil on which the town rests. And perk up a few 1930ish food establishments and motels, and what do you have? Something of a scaled down and slightly tired looking version of Main Street, Disneyland.

I am not being critical of Seligman. They have greatly contributed to the preservation and accessibility of this legendary road and all the sorrows and hopes that have travelled it.

But the commercialism of Seligman was heavy.

But I am not complaining because I got to eat two tacos, french fries, and a wonderful home made chocolate milk shake at the very commercialized and very tasty establishment of the Snow Cap Drive-In (That is Drive-In. Which is distinct from a Drive Thru. At a Drive-In, you park your car. In the old days, like at an A&W Root Beer Drive-In, or present day Sonic Drive-In, someone would come out to your car and take your order and bring your food to you. But these days at the Snow Cap Drive-In, you park your car and Walk-In.)

Upon leaving Seligman, we strike out in yet another "straight ahead and farther than you can see" road. 

On and on and on. 

About 25 km (15.5 mi) from our destination of Peach Springs we pass by a unique and noteworthy dot of civilization on this otherwise de-populated stretch of road.  

A very unique combination of folklore, tourist trap, paranormal, and true science -- the business enterprise associated with the Grand Canyon Caverns. 

There really are caverns.  They were literally discovered by accident by a cowboy names Walter Peck. He nearly stumbled and fell into a hole in the desert floor. This "hole" opened up into a rare "dry cave," of which fewer than 3% if the caves in the world can call themselves. Seeing a natural opportunity here, Peck hung up his spurs and started charging people 25 cents to be lowered down into the caves for a peck at the enormous rooms that could fill three football fields. 

Even though this cave is 60 miles (about 100 km) from the Grand Canyon, it does connect with it. Thus, the name. 

Over the years the Cave has produced a Native American Mummy, a fossilized Prehistoric Sloth (as distinct from many modern lazy people alive today :-), an opportunity for a Depression Era Public Work Project (resulting in a nice, new, and safe entrance to the Cave), a home for a few legendary ghosts, an underground motel room (where you can sleep and/or meet the ghost personally), and a science lab where university professors research the impact of powerful atomic size space particles striking and penetrating the surface of the earth. (And we thought UV rays were dangerous?!)

This sounds like a great place to stop and check out. 

But we didn't. 

I was too pooped to detour the several km/mi required to access this natural wonder. All my strength would be needed to reach Peach Springs. 

The young Hogs had the option of doing the cave explore. But they opted to stick with the old Hogs and proceed to the motel at Peach Springs. 

Passing the tempting allure of the Grand Canyon Caverns, we press on. More ups and downs. But mostly feels like a gradual, steady incline.

And then we find ourselves on the edge of a vast valley. Ahead and down below us is the unique town of Peach Springs. And in order to get there, all we have to do for the final few kilometers/miles is coast and brake, coast and brake.

I have one regret about these last few moments of riding on day two. Coasting down into this valley provided a beautiful view to the north. A vast expanse of mountains and desert valleys. I was awed by the sight. But after 95 km (almost 60 miles) of pedaling, my appreciation and attentiveness for natural art was waning. The thought of the swimming pool at the motel (Which I knew was there because months ago I googled the motel and saw picture of the pool) over-rode my esthetic senses.

I am, of course, at the back of the line. Son Bryan has stayed close by to make sure I didn't get lost or faint or collapse or do whatever old men do when riding bikes ridiculous distances across vast deserts in the heat of the day.

When we get to the motel, Bro Mark has already been to the desk and secured a room key.

Son Bryan is actually riding his bike around and around the motel parking lot. He is not, though he may appear to be, crazy. He is so close to claiming this day's ride as a "100 km Century Ride," he can't stop himself. 

So all five of us check into our motel room. That is room. As in one room. Singular. Two double beds. One roll away cot. Cozy. But given that this is the most expensive place we will be staying, I can understand why we share the one room.

Some Hogs line up for the shower.

Others, such as Bro Mark, Ben, and I, head for the restaurant and order very big glasses (American Size Glasses) of cold drinks like Dr. Pepper and Iced Tea. After a cold drink in the air conditioned restaurant we are feeling better despite the fact we have not had showers to scrub the grime of a whole day of heat, sweat, dirt, and at least three applications of sunscreen off our bodies.

I for one, I am actually starting to feel physically better. I am relieved. The thought of pedaling two more days feeling like I did for the past two days was not conjuring up a vision of the wonderful vacation I had imagined.

Returning to the motel room, I find the line up for the shower still lengthy. But then I remembered the pool. With little difficulty, I found it. A sun heated, salt water pool. And right beside it, a huge, bubbling hot tub.

I would not have logically concluded that lowering oneself into a hot tub while being rather hot after riding across a hot desert would be a refreshing experience. I was wrong. As I lowered myself (wearing my spandex riding shorts because I did not bring a swimsuit -- swimsuits weigh way too  much :-) into the bubbles, it was like a wave of relaxing magic enveloped my body. Every muscle sighed relief. If I was feeling good before I took the plunge, I was feeling great now. I sat there. For 30 minutes. 

After hot tub and swim we put on relatively clean clothes and head to the dining room.

Our motel is the only thriving establishment in Peach Springs. It might be the only establishment in Peach Springs. Somewhere connected with our motel is a casino operated by the Native American population of the area. We never did see the casino. But it is no doubt connected with the vast complex of which our motel is only a small part.

We are sitting down to eat our first really real meal together. And everyone is hungry. Lots of protein ordered for our table. While I am starting to feel a lot better, I am still not really hungry. But the chef salad and side order of cottage cheese (a good protein source for us active seniors :-) really hit the spot.

Back at our room, I finally get my turn in the shower. (The hot tub and pool had made me presentable enough for supper.)

I am assigned to one half of a big bed. Bro Mark gets the other side of the bed. Ben opts for the folding cot, but after 5 seconds on it decides the floor will be more comfortable. (Bro Mark mentioned this to the management the next morning and they did not charge him for it.)

I can hardly remember my head hitting the pillow. I am deaf in my left ear. This has a logistical advantage when it comes to sleeping. I sleep with my good ear against my pillow. My bad ear can just faintly detect the whistle blast and rumble of the train passing through town, quite close to our motel. It will be the first of many trains, conveniently scheduled every 15 minutes throughout the night. The motel provides free ear plugs. No joke. 

Ash Fork claims to be the "Flagstone Capital of the World." They probably are. Chances are that if you live in the Southwest and have a flagstone patio, the rock came from Ash Fork.

Boss Hog Bro Mark replenishing his simple and complex carbs and proteins at the very famous "Snow Cap" in Seligman.

I am very glad to be at the top of this climb at the top of the morning on our second day of cycling. Technically speaking, the remainder of our trip is all downhill from here. But only in a technical sense. We are going to do a lot of uping and downing before we pedal across the Colorado River two and a half days from now at an elevation of 500 ft.

An example, in my opinion, of slightly over the top commericalism in Seligman. The "people" are not real.

Locals say that the menu is always more extensive if there is not a full moon the night before.

That's my exhausted look of accomplishment after a very long day of riding about 100 km (62 mi).

Bryan all rested up and ready to roll for Day 2 of Ride,

One of dozens of old, abandoned buildings along Route 66. I can hear and see a story in each such structure.

I believe this is an unsuccessful attempt to capitalize on Route 66 nostalgia.

Ben eating yet another of his beloved hamburgers at the Snow Cap in Seligman.

I believe these are either squash or watermelon. They grow in huge natural "gardens" along Route 66. Someone said they are the great great grand-plants of produce that fell of trucks traveling this major highway many years ago.

We meet a true celebrity in Seligman. This town planted the story idea in the mind of a movie creator which later became the Pixar movie, "Cars."

Captain Arizona

Route 66, Ash Fork.

James ready to ride Day 2.

Very old sections of Route 66 are occasionally seen and not to be traveled.

This sign in our Peach Springs motel was accurate. Every 15 minutes, 24 hours a day.

Originally, the Santa Fe railway ran right through Ash Fork. But the line was moved south of the town at a later date. Some say that the relocation of the rail line was actually the beginning of the end of Ash Fork's glory days; even more so than Route 66 being trumped by the Interstate Highway 40. The old railway once crossed over this creek.

American/Canadian James chatting with a Scot from Australia. Route 66 attracts many from around the world.

World Famous Snow Cap Drive In. Built from scrap lumber in 1953. Still operated by Juan Delgadillo's family. My business card is now one of thousands which decorate the interior walls.

Bro Mark at a high point.

Came across this decommissioned bridge between Seligman and Peach Springs. I had a moment of "ah" when I realized that an Aunt and Uncle of mine crossed this very bridge in the 1930's as they headed from Texas to California to create a new life out west. Bro Mark says he and I probably crossed this bridge as children on some of our many trips to Texas as kids.

A big beautifulness all around us.

Ben getting ready to roll on Day 2.

It's a long long road, with hardly a winding turn.

At lunch at the Snow Cap, Bryan explains to Mark that if we are pedaling uphill, then Mark should not keep saying to us, "It's all downhill from here."

Snow Cap Drive In Patio, Seligman, Arizona

In Seligman, Arizona

Our brief stretch of Interstate Riding on Saturday Morning, Day 2, Just West of Ash Fork.

Definitely not the End!

The majority of Route 66 parallels the Train Tracks. Many trains a day roar and roll past us. Most carrying shipping containers and transport truck trailers. The railway seems well and alive in this part of America.

James and Mark resting as they await my arrival at our Peach Spring Casino & Motel. I would have never thought a hot tub would be a good thing after such a long hot ride. But the motel's hot tub was a moment of great delight.

Look carefully at the Old Route 66. Every once in awhile we see an even older segment of the highway nearby.