It had been a few days since I had made a nice relaxing camp in the mountains and I was due for some R&R after crossing most of Arizona and California in a couple days. Turning onto Gardner Canyon Rd, I found the numbered sites a few miles up the gravel track and settled on #2 for an overnight stay. The silence of the quiet meadow was broken by gunfire from time to time as hunters in distant valley's attempted to take some meat for winter. I enjoyed a cup of coffee in my tent and some good reading material in Edward Abbey's "The Monkey Wrench Gang". The fictional characters develop through much of the same southwestern country I've explored over the last few days, albeit farther north. |
The draw of the southwest has carried me over mountains and dry river valleys of the desert landscape, steeped in the tans and browns of earth, the azure blue sky. Large expanses of Occotillo, tumbleweed, prickly pear, barrel cactus sporadically dot the earth to the horizon. Departing from San Diego on hwy 94, the route continued climbing higher and higher toward the southwestern hills. Unable to take the interstate across many of the mountain ranges, the only available route, I wound up cruising north up the Colorado River until I finally reached an east-west route passably by my scooter. The small town of Hope, AZ, little more than a gas station and small RV lot, offered a quiet morning to refill and watch the sunrise before continuing on toward Phoenix. Brooding dark rain clouds began to billow on the norther mountains and a crosswind picked up to chill me. By the town of Buckeye, the sky opened up with heavy rain and wind blowing sideways. It only took 15 minutes before I could feel my overpants beginning to leak through a few tears and holes in the seamtape. Crotchleak is the WORST! My GPS sent me through the airport departure lanes, the only viable non highway route into Phoenix. I made a nice lunch visit with Lindsey K at a Thai restaurant in Tempe called Thai Basil. While catching up over a Yellow Curry, the sun cleared and a blue sky shone again. "At least I'll dry out a bit on the ride down to Tucson", I thought. Unfortunately I wound up riding back in to the same storm again on my way SE toward Tucson. There I met up with Erika T, for a memorable night of sharing riding stories of our recent adventures in Mexico. She was kind enough to provide a place to sleep overnight. I departed in the early morning into a foggy world more common to San Francisco than Tucson. Cold and wet, the sky started to clear as I worked my way south toward the Coronado National Forest on Hwy 83. The Santa Rita Mountains were a surprising terrain after so much arid desert. The juniper and live oak stands sporadically cover the grassland meadows that stretch on to the steeper higher peaks. Snow dusted the highest peaks in the distance. On the other side of this barbed wire fence in the picture was a pile of sodden blankets and clothes beside a discarded backpack. Tortilla packets, water bottles and refried bean cans littered the hillside, a reminder that I am close to the border and in a very prominent smuggling area. The emebeded sign confirmed my suspicions as well as the frequent Customs and Border Patrol SUV's.
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Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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