For the first time on the trip, we were woken to coyotes in the middle of the night, which Jeff had warned us was a possibility. While it was annoying to be woken, I guess not many people that live in Scotland can make that claim, so we put it down to experience.
We woke an hour later than we had planned. As Golden Shores is close to California my phone decided to switch to California time in the middle of the night, so rather than going off at 6 am Arizona time it went off at 6 am California time (7 am Arizona time. Breakfast was an apple for Deborah and a banana for me, making the worst free breakfast seem yummy.
We had a final chat with Jeff while packing then headed to Needles, taking the Adventure Cycle Association’s suggested route, confirmed by Jeff as the Route he would take, taking a northerly route along country roads rather than the southerly route which would have us on the interstate.
The cycle to Needles was as interesting as cycling along a road in the desert gets, with the main focus throughout the 12 miles being a factory on the outskirts of the town. It didn’t seem long before we were in the shadow of the factory, although we couldn’t make out what it produced, apart from plumes of smoke. It was only a few more minutes after that we found ourselves in the shadow of the Dollar General supermarket to buy second breakfast, which today was a gallon of milk and a bag of crisps (chips to our US friends).
Cycling through Needles we came to a sign saying the town was the ‘Gateway to California’. We had crossed into our final state without realising it so stopped to have a celebratory swig of slowly warming milk.
We would soon be forced onto the I-40 as there is no alternative road, but the first on-ramp we came to had a sign stating cycles were not allowed. As we cycled to the next on-ramp, with fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be a similar sign on that one too, we came to a sign that announced the road ahead was closed. With no alternative that wouldn’t require a significant detour, we pedalled on, only to find it was a different road to ours that was closed. One possible obstacle down, one more still to go.
As we cycled toward the on-ramp, which we could see just a mile up the road we passed a number of roadside monuments constructed of sand and stones in honour of the US armed forces. It seemed a random thing to come across in an odd location, but I guess someone thought it a good idea as hours of work must have gone into each one… and there were a few!
We finally reached the on-ramp and with no sign visible found ourselves pedalling uphill on the hard shoulder of the I-40. While we had only knowingly been in California for less than an hour, the state had already won the ‘Cleanest Hard Shoulder Award’ of the trip.
Six miles later we took a right turn at the top of the interstate off-ramp, cycled a further 100m, then pulled off the road on to a gravel parking area for third breakfast. Third breakfast consisting of lemon biscuits and warm milk.
Just as we were about to head off a white car pulled over with both passenger side windows down, one with a German Shepherd hanging out and the other with a young guy offering us a bottle of water. We didn’t get his name since as soon as we took the water he shouted ‘be safe’ and sped off in a cloud of dust. We have been the recipients of so much kindness like this on our journey if there is one thing that we will change when our journey has ended is to be more thoughtful when we see folk at the side of the road on their journey.
The next thirty miles was an uphill slog through a desert plain, cycling along original Route 66, now labelled the National Trails Highway. Never too steep, just a relentless turning of the pedals without any respite. To give us something to look at other than the desert, we had a passing train on a very regular basis, so freight carriage counting became today’s diversion. The record of the day being five locomotives pulling 124 freight carriages, with two shipping containers loaded on each carriage.
About 2 miles from our final destination of the service station at Fenner the single stop for cyclists to camp on this stretch of the Route, Daughter #2 called. When I stopped to answer the phone Wifey #1 flew by, so with the phone in hand, I chatted to Feni while trying to catch up to Deborah. I finally catch up to Deborah, handing the phone over for her to have a chat with Feni too. It seemed like the two of them were in for a long session and as Deborah can’t cycle one-handed I decided to leave her to it and head to the service station myself.
It didn’t take long to get there and Deborah followed shortly afterwards… okay, about 20 minutes afterwards! It had been a hot day, with the cycle computer reporting 35oC most of the afternoon, so first priority was a cold drink. The brain freeze machine was not working so we made do with a soft drink. While paying, the chap behind the counter invited us to set up camp for the night, which is what I was just about to ask. I guess with no other options for 50 miles around, it was clear we would been needing to stay here.
While putting up the tent a young guy came over to say hello. Joseph, or Texan Jo to his friends, was interested in what we were up to. He has travelled extensively around the US with work and I could see a would-be traveller in there somewhere just bursting to get out. When he heard we were here from Scotland too, having Scottish bloody in his veins, he said he would pass our details on to his auntie who would likely be in touch.
We finished setting up camp then headed over to the shop to see what delights were on offer. There wasn’t a great selection, but you don’t need a great selection when there is something on the menu you want. Veggie burger… perfect.
Upon ordering two veggie burgers we were informed the chef hadn’t turned up for work this evening. We must have looked quite pitiful as the manager then offered to go and make us a burger each herself.
While Deborah waited for the burgers I went out to take photos of an amazing sunset, only to be accosted by a lady strutting around the car park shouting at the sky. Lena informed me that she is from New Mexico. Her brother had apparently towed her car here three days ago, with her in it, and left her. Her car has no battery and no fuel and is now waiting for her brother to come back, which I’m guessing is unlikely if she behaves like she is tonight at home, if indeed she has one.
As I sit typing and Deborah is reading her Kindle, the silence of the night has been drowned out by this lady’s shouting for the past couple of hours.
It’s now just after 7pm and we are considering an early night and an early start, but it could turn out to be a restless one if this noise continues. Clearly she needs help, but from whom I really don’t know as the folk in the service station seem to be just ignoring it.
UPDATE: I have spoken to the guy working the night shift. Apparently it was the police that dropped her off earlier today, not her brother, which he informs me happens frequently. There is nothing they can do unless the lady is threatening, which she is not. I, therefore, went over to speak to her myself, asking if there is anyone I can call for her. Apart from her brother, the nearest person that might be able to help is her step-father who lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She gave me his name and number, which I then called. Unfortunately, it went through to voicemail. I left a message, detailing everything I could about the situation and am going to have to leave it at that. I’m just back from speaking to Lena again, letting her know I have left a voicemail with the step-father and suggested she wraps up warm and tries to get some sleep. All has now gone quiet… apart from the sodding trains passing a couple of hundred metres away from our tent!