Driving across the Desert

The Drive

I-10 West. Austin, Texas to Tucson, Arizona. 17 hours of watching the desert go by. Never more glad for my iPod, and that I have developed such a good relationship with the Jamboree that I didn't feel ridiculous at all talking into the steering wheel. In one afternoon, along one small section of the enormous Texas, I listened to an entire 200+ page audiobook. And still the desert stretched on in front of me, all around me on each side, way way behind me. The afternoon sun in my eyes and burning my arms through the windshield. The occasional mountain. Sometimes a few clumped together, as if for companionship along the lonely stretch of dust.

At first it was beautiful. But after so many hours with only gradual changes to the landscape, I suddenly understood why those aliens chose this part of the world to crash into back in the '50s. I didn't make it to Roswell, but I'm sure it looked a lot like what I saw from the highway. A lot of wide open space.

Like oases, El Paso TX and Las Cruces NM, only 45 minutes from one another, offered the welcome reminder of civilzation beyond rusty towns and squeaky villages. I continued through the first city, determined to sleep in a different state that night. And once I reached a campsite in New Mexico and found a spot to park for the night, I couldn't even finish either my dinner or my beer before my eyes were drooping and my body was pulling me mindlessly to bed. Safe to say, I slept like a baby (which isn't unusual in the Jamboree anyway).

Seriously, folks. Do not attempt this drive alone, all in one day, or without stopping to see and do something other than drive in order to maintain your sanity. It comes with a bright, bold, neon warning sign of boring you to tears otherwise.

Encounters with desert wildlife

Just when I was getting lulled into the 8th hour or so, I noticed up on a ridge next to the road a small herd of what looked like deer but with darker brown fur and fat, curly horns on their heads. A cross between an antelope, a deer and a mountain goat. Admiring them, and describing them in excited detail to the Jamboree's dashboard, I realized they were standing there as if waiting. Hmm what could they be waiting for...? I looked quickly to the other side of the road just in time to see the last two of the herd decide it was a good time to join the party. They leaped out onto the road in front of me and, at the sound of the Jamboree wailing along at interstate highway speeds, kicked into a full out run. Right across the jamboree's path. I jammed the brakes, but the Jamboree doesn't exactly stop on a dime. Like slow motion, I watched them gallop across the road, getting closer and closer while feeling the pressure of my feet on the brakes. In reality we slowed down quite quickly, all the while me yelling urgent encouragment for those animals to get their dum asses off the road and away from the front of the Jamboree. Faster, faster! Go go go! Stop Jamboree, stop! Whew. The last animal's bum and hind legs leaped off the road to the safety of the desert about a metre and a half from the Jamboree's nose.

I do not want to hit any animals. Big or small, but especially big as they could make a mess, not only of themselves but of the Jamboree and I as well. That near miss did, however, liven things up a bit. My heart raced for the next few miles and I was certainly on the alert, watching into the corners of the desert, for the rest of the drive that day. Terrified while braking, when I realized I'd missed them, the relief made me laugh.

Another day, as I was leaving Las Cruces, NM, I noticed one of those tacky/wacky oddities that pass for attractions to bored drivers in need of something new or interesting to see. Remember in National Lampoon's Vacation, Chevy Chase was determined to find the world's largest ball of twine? On the hill, proudly overlooking the city, stands a giant roadrunner made of recyled trash. I wasn't quick enough to get a photo of it, sorry. But the sight of it, beyond making me cringe a little bit, reminded me of all those joyous hours spent as a child watching Wily Coyote try, using any means possible, to capture the Roadrunner. I had always figured that a roadrunner was a fictional animal, like a wookie or snuffalupagus. I mean, really, who had ever actually seen a roadrunner in real life?

The next step my brain took was to remember the setting for those Coyote/Roadrunner cartoon scenes. It was desert. Red rock and dust. Small bushes and cactuses. Cliffs and a few mountains. Turns out, it resembles the desert I'd been driving through here in Texas and New Mexico!

The next game I played with the Jamboree was to be on the lookout for a roadrunner. That first day, no luck. Nothing. But the second day, as I was sipping my coffee on a quiet stretch of road, I suddenly noticed a much smaller animal leap out onto the pavement in front of me. It sort of ran and hopped and even almost flew, quite quickly, to the other side of the road. It was fast, so fast that I didn't need to touch the brakes this time. It leaned its head far forward into the run; there was a sharp little beak at the end of its head, the first point to cross the finish line if it had one, and two long scrawny legs twittering underneath it. Feathers and wings, definitely bird-like, but running. Across the road. A real, genuine roadrunner! A-ha! That made my morning that day.

“Meep Meep!”

The third animal I encountered was when I was slowly winding my way down a road in the Chiricahua National Monument and, coming around a bend, I was stopped by a policeman standing on the road ahead, holding a gun. His car was parked behind a minivan, both heading in the opposite direction from where I was going, lights flashing.

He wasn't a policeman, actually, but a park ranger, and hiding underneath the minivan was a fox. I watched, fascinated, wondering why the fox was hanging out under what must have been a moving car, and why the ranger was standing on the road beside the van, his gun out and somewhat poised. After a few minutes, the fox spooked out from under the car and ran up the side of the cliff next to the road. It didn't go very far, though; it didn't run away like I would expect any other wild animal that encounters humans and cars and guns would do. It almost seemed ready to leap back out onto the road again. The ranger, continuing to motion to me and the driver of the minivan to stay put, walked up towards the cliff wall and shot his gun. Actually shot it at the fox. He missed, and I saw the fox scurry up over the top of the cliff.

I couldn't believe it. Nor could I figure it out. Aren't rangers supposed to protect wildlife? Seemed to me shooting it just because it got stuck in a roadside misunderstanding was a bit drastic. He motioned for me to carry on driving, so I edged my way slowly forward to where the ranger was beginning to climb the cliff wall in pursuit. He turned to look at me as I inched by so I asked out my window what that was all about.

“Rabid fox”, he said. Ok, then. Keep driving.

And finally, the fun I found to break up the drive and keep me sane

In Texas... Upon landing at Austin airport, I picked up the Jamboree and headed straight back to where I was 5 weeks earlier. Fredericksburg, Texas, my cycling heaven. I woke up feeling healthy and strong, the weather was sunny and calm, and Betty was aching to get out for a spin. We did a 50 mile route, which took 55 miles including getting to the campsite and back again, which, according to my calculations, is about 89 kms.

My legs felt good. The countryside was hilly and Texan-pretty. Lots of ranches, cows, goats and Texas gates as obstacles and scenery. Several really fun parts, undulating hills that Betty and I sailed over. Speed was good and I just wanted to keep on going. All up until about mile 39. That's where my wall hit, slowing me down, making my legs work for it, suddenly head into a slight wind, a-ha, that must be it. I stopped, ate a snack, rested for a few minutes by the side of the road. For the next 5 miles or so, I had to force my body to listen to my head and get going. It listened grudgingly, not overly responsively, but by the time I got to mile 44 or so, the snack had kicked in and I regained enough power to sail the rest of the way home. I finished as I started, albeit bit more tired, but that good tired that you feel after a tough, great ride. Lekker.

No pictures of the ride this time, if you want the visuals click on the album I posted in January.

In New Mexico... I had heard about the Organ mountains, and could see them from my campsite in the morning. Slightly east of the city, so backtracking somewhat, I was debating between mountain biking or hiking. In consultation with the rangers at the Dripping Springs park and the ladies behind the campsite office counter, I was convinced to do the hike.

As it turned out, the hike was short, easy and ok. The springs really were just dripping, and apparently I was lucky to have seen that as I happened to be there during the short period when the snow that dusts the tops of the mountains started to melt. Not overly challenging but enough to get out and stretch my legs a bit before climbing back in behind the Jamboree's wheel. One of the things that makes travelling interesting is the people I meet along the way... if you happen to check out the album below, you'll have to take notice of the couple I met along his hike and chatted with for a while. Classic California hippie. He even offered me a joint.

In Arizona... Now THAT was a hike! And spectacular scenery, very welcome at the almost end of this long stretch of the journey. I'll let the pictures do a lot of the talking for me for this one, I've blathered on long enough in this blog. But briefly I'll say I climbed the mountain and looped around the Chiricahua natural geological wondersite, hiked for about 4 hours, got the heart rate pumping, the muscles working, the sweat seeping. The rocks were formed by a volcanic eruption a very long time ago, and hiking through them confirms for me that Arizona really is a place of cool rock formations.

New Mexico-Arizona