Biking Bruce County & Beyond: Day 4 (Part 4) Route 66: Oatman to Pirate's Cove

We pedal out of Oatman after lunch, for the final stretch of our four day cycling adventure along Route 66 across Central Arizona to the Colorado River.The last few hours of our trip remain.

But things are getting toasty. We are face very high temperatures in a lunar-like landscape. I heard someone say the temp is about 118 F (48 C). That might be a fraction high. But only a fraction. Try riding a bike in an oven set on high to simulate the experience. And even though we are going downhill 80% of the time, the heat is penetrating and non-cooling.

Based on a last minute instinct, in addition to the huge volume of sport drink I carry with me, before leaving Oatman, I also refilled several empty sport bottles with water. These, I plan, would be my evaporative cooling system. I am so glad I did this. The heat is so intense it is making my head hurt.

So I squeeze a shot of this water right on my head between the vents on my bike helmet. Then I squirt some water all down my neck and chest. My head and clothes are soaked and dripping, and cool. But only for about 5 minutes. In less than 6 minutes I am completely dry and starting to roast again. I repeat this procedure frequently every ten minutes or so over the next few hours.

Looking around, however, helps take the edge off these last 40 kilometers or so. We pedal through a mostly barren landscape. Only very small and dead-like vegetation. The lunar-like terrain gives me the impression that I am visiting an alien planet. (I also feel that way when I visit Los Angeles, but in a very different sort of way :-)

The riding is challenging, but we are excited about moving forward. The Colorado River continues moving closer to us. We can see the green living off its life blood of water. We approach the community of Golden Shores. A retirement type place for seniors who want less expensive housing and no social life.

But Golden Shores makes a memorable impression on me in another way -- My Sister-In-Law Carolyn (Having, for this event, been nominated for Sainthood) appears, with her able assistant, and my youngest son, Luke, with two huge boxes of extra large iced teas!!! (Carolyn and Luke have driven here from Prescott for the purpose of transporting us and our bikes back home to Prescott tonight.)

I drink my tea. I will always remember how good and cool that tea felt in that "118 F" environment. I take my second ice tea and fill one of my bike bottles with it. Then I take the ice left over from my first tea and fill another bike bottle. All this ice will be gone in about 15 minutes. But I enjoyed it while it lasts.

So the end is metaphorically in sight. Carolyn and Luke take the cars ahead of us to our finish line just across the Colorado River, California side.

We pedal again. Another memory moment occurs. As we approach the River, I drive into an invisible wall of "moisture." That is, humid air. That might not sound very exciting. But it was profound. I had not sensed or perceived moisture in the air for the past four days. And when I drove into this heavy vapoured air system which lives around and above the River, it was like feeling the key to life.

We have been visitors in someone elses' ecosystem for four days. A system that requires minimal water. (James made the observation during the last four days that, "Civilization seems such an imposition to this region." Well said.) Moisture in the air will always remind me of where I belong in the environmental geography of this planet.

And smell. With the moisture comes smells.Wet things. Growing things. Dying things. Drying things. We are on the river bank.

But our road takes us up an on ramp and onto the Interstate 40 Highway Bridge across the Colorado River. We stop and take pictures of ourselves on the bridge at the California state line in the middle of the bridge as the tractor-trailer rigs rumble by shaking the pavement.

This is not the bridge of the Route 66 travellers. They crossed on a bridge just upstream from here. Originally, it was train bridge. And the cars took turns crossing the bridge when the trains weren't coming. (You didn't want to mess up your timing in that matter.)

At some point, the railroad built a new bridge and the old bridge became a one lane, take turns, auto crossing. Some time later, the bridge discontinued auto traffic and became a pipe line bridge, which it remains today.

Pedalling a couple of more miles, we come to our first opportunity to exit the Interstate and we take it. We glide down the off ramp and into a rather nifty tourist park called "Pirate's Cove." It is a Monday night and past supper time and the park is rather quiet. We dismount our mechanical horses. Smile. Take pictures. Drink more cool drinks as we strap our bikes onto the vehicles for the four hour drive back to Prescott.

A final day of about 90 km (55 miles). Nine hours ago we left Kingman, Arizona. We spent about 5.5 of those hours on the bike seats. The day sure felt longer than that to me.

Four days and 358 km (221.5 miles) and we have travelled and experienced the heartbeat of Route 66 and the longest remaining uninterrupted stretch of this amazing highway of American and human history.

And now, a four hour air conditioned car ride back to Prescott sounds heavenly.

Powerful forces of humanity have altered this historic highway. Like the wind altering the sandstone bluffs that surround it, the passage of time has eroded the Highway. Parts of it have been obliterated, deserted. Parts of it designated as insignificant service roads along the Interstates. I wonder if Route 66 might even be facing extinction. It does, in the bigger scheme of history, appear to be dying a slow death.

But no. Route 66 is a magical highway. It will remain forever, in the minds and hearts of those who, like the members of our expedition, have experienced it.

I pause at the journey's end with a beautiful California sunset naturally tinting my photo.

Topock is our last "town" on Arizona Route 66. But I never saw the town, nor the bar, nor the RV park.
It might be a seasonal town. We are here in the still-kind-of-hot season. I suspect Topock will come to life in the "winter."
Probably mostly Canadians from Alberta :-)
Notice the "lush" vegetation. A gift made possible by the Colorado River.

With the sunset in the west, we get a lousy photo of the California State Line on the Interstate 40 Bridge.

Our pedaling through town was probably the most exciting thing to happen in Golden Shores in a long.
By the way, no one really noticed, except the guy who prepared the unusual order of 12 extra large iced teas.

Overlooking our Lunar Landscape from Route 66 towards the Colorado River.
This would have been a great place to fake the NASA moon landing.

Here we are: Luke (my son who lives in Prescott), James, Me, Mark, Bryan, and Ben.
Apparently, according to the sign, we have been pedaling backwards :-)