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Four Bikers and a Monkey
- Thread starter Squeaky
- Start date
- Joined
- Dec 18, 2005
- Messages
- 560
- Reaction score
- 3
- Location
- San Angelo
- First Name
- Bill
- Last Name
- Richards
That's our idea also. My sister was saying she likes RVing. But in RV someone has to cook, and my SWMBO says I cook or we eat out. So we eat out when traveling.
Cheers
Cheers
Squeaky said:
Oh, that's just wrong...
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2004
- Messages
- 13,333
- Reaction score
- 192
- Location
- Plantersville
- First Name
- Rebecca
- Last Name
- Reed
Day 6
March 30, 2006
Ruidoso, NM to Rock Hound State Park, NM
Our hopes for an early departure were hindered by the late night laundry fiasco involving an uncooperative dryer. While waiting for downy softness, at least Rebecca was able to update the past days accounts.
Fooled by sunny skies, Spank headed out for a romp in the playground only to find that the wind had not died down. It seemed that the same gusts that had failed to push us off the road yesterday were back for another round.
As we wound our way through the mountains, descending in elevation, the chill in the air seemed to fade.
The morning’s debate over thermals and liners was quickly becoming a moot point. As we crested a hill, we were presented with either the beauty of the white sands of New Mexico or a plethora of snow - the group prayed it was the former.
In Alamagordo, we stopped for a quick picture of an odd-looking statue. It’s a roadrunner made entirely out of radiator parts and scrap metal.
Our objective was to find our first out-of-state geocache since our desire to find one earlier in the trip had not panned out. The first search took us to a scenic desert location in Alamogordo.
Surrounded by cacti, we were protected by our riding gear and did not succumb to the perils of the thorns.
We signed the log, traded some goodies, and returned to the bikes on the nearby dead-end street. With temperatures nearing 75 degrees, we now had the arduous task of removing liners and opening vents. We knew this would all be for naught later in the day, but it was necessary to remain comfortable in the mid-morning sun.
Our next search led us to the New Mexico Space Center.
The log-only cache was cleverly hidden in launch rail of the A.J.A.X. missile system displayed on the hill. We looked around and marveled at some of the historic achievements in engineering that were proudly displayed.
Spank was excited to find the gravesite of his distant uncle (and often forgotten American hero) Ham, the first astrochimp. As a tribute, he decided to “Salute to the brothers that couldn’t be here”.
Val, working in the gift shop, suggested Mom’s for lunch. No, not her own mother, but rather a homestyle restaurant in town. We arrived at Mom’s Home Cookin in short order, and received prompt attention by the wait staff. These ladies were the absolute definition of attentive, and were sweet as pie.
Both Rebecca and Erik indulged themselves with the special of the day, consisting of Salisbury steak with potatoes, veggies, and Texas toast. The drinks were bottomless, which quickly quenched our thirst.
On our way out, we met Dan from Las Vegas who had returned home to Alamogordo on his Suzuki 1500 six months ago. He recalled the long days in the saddle and wished us well on our journey. It’s great meeting like-minded riders along the way and turning strangers to friends with only short conversations.
Hitting the straight highway was not the most fun route, but got us to the dam park without much trouble. Leesburg Dam State Park, that is.
We had called ahead to confirm availability, were assigned a campsite at the front desk, and took off in the gravel to find Site #10. After a little confusion, we found it – and its current occupant. He had paperwork for the site, so we headed back to the dam Visitor’s Center to correct the snafu. The ladies waited while the men made arrangements for site #12 to be our home for the night, but after a short recon mission it was determined that dam site was booked as well.
Having no other dam sites available (other than the gravel parking lot they called ‘primitive camping’) and the money stuck in a dam locked box and irretrievable without a dam Park Ranger, we made a call to Rock Hound State Park, and Gloria was able to guarantee accommodations and honor our dam permit for the night. Under no circumstances should anyone stay at that dam park. The dam staff was unorganized and had no idea what dam sites were already booked.
Rock Hound was 45 miles away as the crow flies and sunlight was fading. Little did we know that on the paved roadway, it was almost 80 miles away. Getting there was half the battle – passing through the open range with the free-roaming cattle and getting up the heart-stopping hill in thick, loose pea gravel was to be an entirely different story.
The failure of the last two riders to observe Erik flailing his arms as a warning to stay back and avoid the incline almost cost us dearly. We managed to narrowly avoid two scratched up bikes, but emotions were running high. Picnic tables were quickly moved aside so that tents could be pitched on concrete slabs instead of gravel, since no campsites were available and we had to occupy the day use area.
Now settled, we were afforded the opportunity to see a beautiful sunset. It was one of many on this trip already, but certainly will not be the last.
We were nestled between the glowing city lights in the valley below and the majestic mountain peaks seemingly within arms reach. There was a quiet calm all around, and the twinkling of the stars above had the effect of a mother’s lullaby on an infant child.
March 30, 2006
Ruidoso, NM to Rock Hound State Park, NM
Our hopes for an early departure were hindered by the late night laundry fiasco involving an uncooperative dryer. While waiting for downy softness, at least Rebecca was able to update the past days accounts.
Fooled by sunny skies, Spank headed out for a romp in the playground only to find that the wind had not died down. It seemed that the same gusts that had failed to push us off the road yesterday were back for another round.
As we wound our way through the mountains, descending in elevation, the chill in the air seemed to fade.
The morning’s debate over thermals and liners was quickly becoming a moot point. As we crested a hill, we were presented with either the beauty of the white sands of New Mexico or a plethora of snow - the group prayed it was the former.
In Alamagordo, we stopped for a quick picture of an odd-looking statue. It’s a roadrunner made entirely out of radiator parts and scrap metal.
Our objective was to find our first out-of-state geocache since our desire to find one earlier in the trip had not panned out. The first search took us to a scenic desert location in Alamogordo.
Surrounded by cacti, we were protected by our riding gear and did not succumb to the perils of the thorns.
We signed the log, traded some goodies, and returned to the bikes on the nearby dead-end street. With temperatures nearing 75 degrees, we now had the arduous task of removing liners and opening vents. We knew this would all be for naught later in the day, but it was necessary to remain comfortable in the mid-morning sun.
Our next search led us to the New Mexico Space Center.
The log-only cache was cleverly hidden in launch rail of the A.J.A.X. missile system displayed on the hill. We looked around and marveled at some of the historic achievements in engineering that were proudly displayed.
Spank was excited to find the gravesite of his distant uncle (and often forgotten American hero) Ham, the first astrochimp. As a tribute, he decided to “Salute to the brothers that couldn’t be here”.
Val, working in the gift shop, suggested Mom’s for lunch. No, not her own mother, but rather a homestyle restaurant in town. We arrived at Mom’s Home Cookin in short order, and received prompt attention by the wait staff. These ladies were the absolute definition of attentive, and were sweet as pie.
Both Rebecca and Erik indulged themselves with the special of the day, consisting of Salisbury steak with potatoes, veggies, and Texas toast. The drinks were bottomless, which quickly quenched our thirst.
On our way out, we met Dan from Las Vegas who had returned home to Alamogordo on his Suzuki 1500 six months ago. He recalled the long days in the saddle and wished us well on our journey. It’s great meeting like-minded riders along the way and turning strangers to friends with only short conversations.
Hitting the straight highway was not the most fun route, but got us to the dam park without much trouble. Leesburg Dam State Park, that is.
We had called ahead to confirm availability, were assigned a campsite at the front desk, and took off in the gravel to find Site #10. After a little confusion, we found it – and its current occupant. He had paperwork for the site, so we headed back to the dam Visitor’s Center to correct the snafu. The ladies waited while the men made arrangements for site #12 to be our home for the night, but after a short recon mission it was determined that dam site was booked as well.
Having no other dam sites available (other than the gravel parking lot they called ‘primitive camping’) and the money stuck in a dam locked box and irretrievable without a dam Park Ranger, we made a call to Rock Hound State Park, and Gloria was able to guarantee accommodations and honor our dam permit for the night. Under no circumstances should anyone stay at that dam park. The dam staff was unorganized and had no idea what dam sites were already booked.
Rock Hound was 45 miles away as the crow flies and sunlight was fading. Little did we know that on the paved roadway, it was almost 80 miles away. Getting there was half the battle – passing through the open range with the free-roaming cattle and getting up the heart-stopping hill in thick, loose pea gravel was to be an entirely different story.
The failure of the last two riders to observe Erik flailing his arms as a warning to stay back and avoid the incline almost cost us dearly. We managed to narrowly avoid two scratched up bikes, but emotions were running high. Picnic tables were quickly moved aside so that tents could be pitched on concrete slabs instead of gravel, since no campsites were available and we had to occupy the day use area.
Now settled, we were afforded the opportunity to see a beautiful sunset. It was one of many on this trip already, but certainly will not be the last.
We were nestled between the glowing city lights in the valley below and the majestic mountain peaks seemingly within arms reach. There was a quiet calm all around, and the twinkling of the stars above had the effect of a mother’s lullaby on an infant child.
mapmaker
0
Oh we are so envious! Looks as if you guys are seeing some great sights! Keep it coming 
Nothing like a desert sunset, is there?
Nothing like a desert sunset, is there?
I see Alamagordo has not changed. I was stationed at Holloman AFB just outside of there for over 3 years. I took an extension to go to GUAM to get out of there.
Glad to see the people are getting nicer. Could have been me, but you never know.
Glad to see the people are getting nicer. Could have been me, but you never know.
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2004
- Messages
- 13,333
- Reaction score
- 192
- Location
- Plantersville
- First Name
- Rebecca
- Last Name
- Reed
Day 7
March 31, 2006
Rock Hound State Park, NM to Roper Lake State Park, AZ
Rise and shine. Breakfast consisted of granola and pop tarts. We had planned an early start, and were able to get packed, loaded, and moving by eight o’clock local time. Getting back down the hill was seemingly easier than the ascent the night before. The cattle must have still been asleep; they were not roaming near the road this time.
A quick stop for fuel and to adjust Deb’s cargo (it had been loaded while on the side stand and was lopsided) before high-tailing it out of town and towards Arizona. Our route necessitated getting back on I10 for a brief period, but we were able to split off onto Hwy 70 heading northwest. We inadvertently passed the state line and had to circle back for a picture, but it was worth it.
(We may not hit very many states on this trip after all. Anything much farther north than we are now seems to be too cold or has snow flurries forecasted.)
Just a mile into Arizona, we found ourselves pulling over again, but this time it was a mechanical issue. Deb’s speedometer had abruptly decided it was not going to cooperate, however her tachometer and indicators were still fully functional. With a quick roadside check for loose cables or wires (and the addition of an exhaust burn to Erik’s forehead while looking), we determined it was going to be a more intricate endeavor figuring out the problem and coming up with a resolution. Since she was pacing us, we knew she wouldn’t be speeding and could do without it until the next full stop.
Miraculously, after the next gas stop, her speedometer was working again. We will have to keep an eye on it going forward, but we are hoping for the best.
Just a mile or two down Main Street, we found Jerry’s Restaurant (not to be confused with Denny’s) and were very pleased with the standard diner fare. We were afforded the opportunity to sit in a large corner booth with plenty of space for ourselves and our gear, access to an outlet for charging, and a great view of the Comfort Inn next door that offered free wireless internet. Yeah, we sponged some free web.
We also got to meet Bob Clark, a local rider and president of the Easteren Arizona Motorcycle Riders Club.
He says he found us by following the smell of burning rubber, but we think he’s just a jolly man that likes to meet riders that come to his town. We were right – he sat and talked with us for a while offering up stories of rides gone by, details about upcoming rides, and places to go and things to do and see in the area. His riding club is putting on its 14th annual Copper Classic Poker and Observation run in a few weeks. An observation run follows a route of 150-200 miles, then asks questions at the end about things that you were supposed to see along the way. If you don’t pay attention, you can’t win prizes. Either way, the Special Olympics is the real winner and gets the proceeds.
Bob offered up a great route idea up 191 through the Coronado Trail. He had ideas for gas stops along the way, places to eat, and spots to stop at for scenic photo ops. When we asked him if there was a Honda shop where we might replace Erik’s missing fairing bolt, he said that unfortunately there was none, but that he used to be a mechanic and had an assortment of nuts and bolts back in his garage that we were welcome to look through. We told him we’d see how the events of the day unfolded and he gave us his phone number and told us to call if we needed anything while here in Safford.
After finishing up our early afternoon breakfast, we headed for Roper Lake State Park. This time, we sent Erik and Gavin through the park to find our nesting spot before putting any money in any box. This park was beautiful like all the others, was set on a lake with swamplands and high grass to house the ducks and other assorted wildlife.
Gavin and Rebecca walked down to the restroom while Erik and Deb began setting up camp at the chosen site. Returning to see the tent already up, Gavin hesitantly suggested a site closer to the water that was not reserved this weekend. It offered a covered structure over the picnic table, which the original site didn’t. Three out of four campers agreed that the second site was better, even though the original scouts had agreed nixed it.
The definition of “happy camper” would be Erik walking a hundred yards across the camp area with fully-erected tent hovering above his head, murmuring the whole way. Nobody knows quite what he was saying, but it’s probably better that way.
After moving, we realized we had to go back up to the ranger station to let them know about the site move. Erik was somehow nominated for the task, and hopped on the bike to take care of it.
Erik: I need to move my site
When the ranger got the envelope out of the lock box and noticed there was only $12 in it, he informed Erik that since there were four bikes, each bike would have to pay an entrance fee.
Ranger: Please deposit $30 more
Erik: You gotta be kidding me, right? (censored for public viewing) For $40 I can go get a hotel. The manager of the site told me that one was enough since we can fit four bikes into one parking space.
Ranger: It’s in the rule book that a motorcycle is a vehicle and we charge per vehicle, sir. Since you’ve spoken with the manager, and the head ranger will not be in until tomorrow, I guess we’ll make an exception this time.
Erik thanked him, turned and walked away, threw his fist in the air for the other campers waiting in line to see, and shouted “Bikers unite for cheaper camping!”
Arriving back at the new site, Erik was obviously no longer upset about the changing of the site. His new focus had turned to the park ranger and the entire state of Arizona for their inadequate rules regarding vehicle fees in their park system. He was certain that the park rangers here should be over working at the dam park like the other dam rangers.
Once the site was setup for the night, Rebecca was able to hang her hammock (for only the second time so far on the trip) and take a relaxing nap. Little did she know that while asleep, the others would abandon her for a geocache high atop the lookout. They also happened upon this on their way back…
(no snakes were harmed in the making of this story)
Rather than eating Ramen for the fourth night in a row, we decided to head into town for dinner since it was only seven miles from the campsite. We were looking for the Wendy’s we’d passed on our way in to keep it cheap, but when we couldn’t find it (hmm… maybe that was a different town?) we decided to hit up ‘ol trusty – Jerry’s again.
Dinner fare was just as great as breakfast had been earlier in the day, but since Gavin had such a hard time choosing between eggs and pancakes before, he stuck with the breakfast side of the menu again.
We made a quick run over to the local Wal-Mart for a few more essentials (more pancakes, and extension cord, and a head lamp for Deb - her pen light just wasn’t cutting it), then we headed back to camp. As we arrived, we saw exactly what we had hoped not to see.
We forgot the cameras on this little outing, but trust us that the looks on our faces were priceless when we saw that the gate to the park had been shut. It’s an electronic gate with a keypad, but at no time were we given a code. There isn’t supposed to be any vehicle traffic in the park after 10 o’clock, but here it was a quarter after 11 and four bikers were stuck. The monkey was back at the campsite having a good ‘ol time with some of the neighbors he’d cozied up to in our absence.
Erik jumped over the gate to see if the was anyone in the ranger’s station and Gavin was working on unhooking himself from his bike while Deb and Rebecca played with the keypad. They tried all kinds of codes that make patterns (they usually set the codes that way so that people don’t forget them) but nothing was working. 123#, 321#, 426#, 258#. Nothing. Just beeps telling us we’d gotten it wrong.
“What about 1234?” asked Deb, and sure enough – open sesame! We quickly hurried through, afraid that it might be on a timer or that it might have set off an alarm in the station. Riding down towards the campsite, rabbits were running rampant trying to get themselves caught under the wheels of the bikes.
Turning down towards our site, Gavin thought that we’d made a wrong turn and pulled over to turn back around. At the same time, unbeknownst to Gavin or Rebecca on the red bike, Erik had shut off the power to the yellow bike and he and Deb were coasting down the hill without lights in an attempt to remain quiet. We almost collided, Erik and Deb coasting at almost 25 mph and Gavin and Rebecca halfway through a U-turn. Yellow and red make orange, but luckily we avoided that scene by mere inches. Grabbing a handful of front brake, Gavin was now faced with keeping his bike from hitting the pavement as it went over to the left. Instinctively, both he and Rebecca had gotten their left feet down and were holding the bike up with pure adrenalin. Nothing scratched, broken, or bent, but both Gavin and Rebecca would be sore in the morning. I guess we’ll have to stay in this beautiful setting for another night.
March 31, 2006
Rock Hound State Park, NM to Roper Lake State Park, AZ
Rise and shine. Breakfast consisted of granola and pop tarts. We had planned an early start, and were able to get packed, loaded, and moving by eight o’clock local time. Getting back down the hill was seemingly easier than the ascent the night before. The cattle must have still been asleep; they were not roaming near the road this time.
A quick stop for fuel and to adjust Deb’s cargo (it had been loaded while on the side stand and was lopsided) before high-tailing it out of town and towards Arizona. Our route necessitated getting back on I10 for a brief period, but we were able to split off onto Hwy 70 heading northwest. We inadvertently passed the state line and had to circle back for a picture, but it was worth it.
(We may not hit very many states on this trip after all. Anything much farther north than we are now seems to be too cold or has snow flurries forecasted.)
Just a mile into Arizona, we found ourselves pulling over again, but this time it was a mechanical issue. Deb’s speedometer had abruptly decided it was not going to cooperate, however her tachometer and indicators were still fully functional. With a quick roadside check for loose cables or wires (and the addition of an exhaust burn to Erik’s forehead while looking), we determined it was going to be a more intricate endeavor figuring out the problem and coming up with a resolution. Since she was pacing us, we knew she wouldn’t be speeding and could do without it until the next full stop.
Miraculously, after the next gas stop, her speedometer was working again. We will have to keep an eye on it going forward, but we are hoping for the best.
Just a mile or two down Main Street, we found Jerry’s Restaurant (not to be confused with Denny’s) and were very pleased with the standard diner fare. We were afforded the opportunity to sit in a large corner booth with plenty of space for ourselves and our gear, access to an outlet for charging, and a great view of the Comfort Inn next door that offered free wireless internet. Yeah, we sponged some free web.
We also got to meet Bob Clark, a local rider and president of the Easteren Arizona Motorcycle Riders Club.
He says he found us by following the smell of burning rubber, but we think he’s just a jolly man that likes to meet riders that come to his town. We were right – he sat and talked with us for a while offering up stories of rides gone by, details about upcoming rides, and places to go and things to do and see in the area. His riding club is putting on its 14th annual Copper Classic Poker and Observation run in a few weeks. An observation run follows a route of 150-200 miles, then asks questions at the end about things that you were supposed to see along the way. If you don’t pay attention, you can’t win prizes. Either way, the Special Olympics is the real winner and gets the proceeds.
Bob offered up a great route idea up 191 through the Coronado Trail. He had ideas for gas stops along the way, places to eat, and spots to stop at for scenic photo ops. When we asked him if there was a Honda shop where we might replace Erik’s missing fairing bolt, he said that unfortunately there was none, but that he used to be a mechanic and had an assortment of nuts and bolts back in his garage that we were welcome to look through. We told him we’d see how the events of the day unfolded and he gave us his phone number and told us to call if we needed anything while here in Safford.
After finishing up our early afternoon breakfast, we headed for Roper Lake State Park. This time, we sent Erik and Gavin through the park to find our nesting spot before putting any money in any box. This park was beautiful like all the others, was set on a lake with swamplands and high grass to house the ducks and other assorted wildlife.
Gavin and Rebecca walked down to the restroom while Erik and Deb began setting up camp at the chosen site. Returning to see the tent already up, Gavin hesitantly suggested a site closer to the water that was not reserved this weekend. It offered a covered structure over the picnic table, which the original site didn’t. Three out of four campers agreed that the second site was better, even though the original scouts had agreed nixed it.
The definition of “happy camper” would be Erik walking a hundred yards across the camp area with fully-erected tent hovering above his head, murmuring the whole way. Nobody knows quite what he was saying, but it’s probably better that way.
After moving, we realized we had to go back up to the ranger station to let them know about the site move. Erik was somehow nominated for the task, and hopped on the bike to take care of it.
Erik: I need to move my site
When the ranger got the envelope out of the lock box and noticed there was only $12 in it, he informed Erik that since there were four bikes, each bike would have to pay an entrance fee.
Ranger: Please deposit $30 more
Erik: You gotta be kidding me, right? (censored for public viewing) For $40 I can go get a hotel. The manager of the site told me that one was enough since we can fit four bikes into one parking space.
Ranger: It’s in the rule book that a motorcycle is a vehicle and we charge per vehicle, sir. Since you’ve spoken with the manager, and the head ranger will not be in until tomorrow, I guess we’ll make an exception this time.
Erik thanked him, turned and walked away, threw his fist in the air for the other campers waiting in line to see, and shouted “Bikers unite for cheaper camping!”
Arriving back at the new site, Erik was obviously no longer upset about the changing of the site. His new focus had turned to the park ranger and the entire state of Arizona for their inadequate rules regarding vehicle fees in their park system. He was certain that the park rangers here should be over working at the dam park like the other dam rangers.
Once the site was setup for the night, Rebecca was able to hang her hammock (for only the second time so far on the trip) and take a relaxing nap. Little did she know that while asleep, the others would abandon her for a geocache high atop the lookout. They also happened upon this on their way back…
(no snakes were harmed in the making of this story)
Rather than eating Ramen for the fourth night in a row, we decided to head into town for dinner since it was only seven miles from the campsite. We were looking for the Wendy’s we’d passed on our way in to keep it cheap, but when we couldn’t find it (hmm… maybe that was a different town?) we decided to hit up ‘ol trusty – Jerry’s again.
Dinner fare was just as great as breakfast had been earlier in the day, but since Gavin had such a hard time choosing between eggs and pancakes before, he stuck with the breakfast side of the menu again.
We made a quick run over to the local Wal-Mart for a few more essentials (more pancakes, and extension cord, and a head lamp for Deb - her pen light just wasn’t cutting it), then we headed back to camp. As we arrived, we saw exactly what we had hoped not to see.
We forgot the cameras on this little outing, but trust us that the looks on our faces were priceless when we saw that the gate to the park had been shut. It’s an electronic gate with a keypad, but at no time were we given a code. There isn’t supposed to be any vehicle traffic in the park after 10 o’clock, but here it was a quarter after 11 and four bikers were stuck. The monkey was back at the campsite having a good ‘ol time with some of the neighbors he’d cozied up to in our absence.
Erik jumped over the gate to see if the was anyone in the ranger’s station and Gavin was working on unhooking himself from his bike while Deb and Rebecca played with the keypad. They tried all kinds of codes that make patterns (they usually set the codes that way so that people don’t forget them) but nothing was working. 123#, 321#, 426#, 258#. Nothing. Just beeps telling us we’d gotten it wrong.
“What about 1234?” asked Deb, and sure enough – open sesame! We quickly hurried through, afraid that it might be on a timer or that it might have set off an alarm in the station. Riding down towards the campsite, rabbits were running rampant trying to get themselves caught under the wheels of the bikes.
Turning down towards our site, Gavin thought that we’d made a wrong turn and pulled over to turn back around. At the same time, unbeknownst to Gavin or Rebecca on the red bike, Erik had shut off the power to the yellow bike and he and Deb were coasting down the hill without lights in an attempt to remain quiet. We almost collided, Erik and Deb coasting at almost 25 mph and Gavin and Rebecca halfway through a U-turn. Yellow and red make orange, but luckily we avoided that scene by mere inches. Grabbing a handful of front brake, Gavin was now faced with keeping his bike from hitting the pavement as it went over to the left. Instinctively, both he and Rebecca had gotten their left feet down and were holding the bike up with pure adrenalin. Nothing scratched, broken, or bent, but both Gavin and Rebecca would be sore in the morning. I guess we’ll have to stay in this beautiful setting for another night.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2004
- Messages
- 13,333
- Reaction score
- 192
- Location
- Plantersville
- First Name
- Rebecca
- Last Name
- Reed
Day 8
April 1, 2006
Roper Lake State Park, AZ to Wilcox, AZ and Back
After checking the forecast for the Grand Canyon, it was decided that another night here would be optimal. To his dismay, Erik was sent back to the ranger’s station to renew the permit. This time, it was the head ranger on duty.
Erik: Good Morning
Ranger: How are you today?
Erik: If I was doing any better I’d have your job
Ranger: You must be doing pretty good then. How can I help you?
Erik: I need to renew our permit
Ranger: Hold on one second (and went inside to look in the blotter, and with a shake of his head) Bikers Unite?
Erik: Yes (bowing his head in shame)
Ranger: I heard that you’d talked to one of the other rangers yesterday and that y’all came to an agreement that you only had to pay once. (here follows a lecture of the rules of camping in Arizona state parks, but we won’t bore you with the details) If you look hard enough, you can find flaws in any rule. Since we already have an agreement, we’ll make an exception and honor it again. You only need to renew this for one day, right?
Erik: Yeah, we’ll be leaving tomorrow
Ranger: Good.
Erik resisted the urge to proclaim victory for the bikers out loud, and waited until he recounted the story to the group back at the site.
“Chilly” Bob Larson, our neighbor in an RV, was kind enough to give us some ideas for day rides in the area. Originally from Florida, he was now roaming the country with only what he could fit in his home on wheels.
He pointed up the nearby mountain to a set of antennas and told us of a road that went up there. There was no way down the back of the mountain with the road closed due to snow, so if we ventured up we’d have to come back down the same way. Intrigued, we decided it was an invitation to an adventure we couldn’t pass up.
Geared up and heading out two-up yet again we headed for the hills. We knew it would be cold up top since we could see the snowy peak from our campsite, so liners and warm clothes were the order of the day. Spank had complained about his view from the back of the bikes, so we let him have the best seat in the house for this romp (Mad Max style).
The mountain was steep and the ribbons of pavement wound around it ascending through trees, snow, and a few small mountain cottages.
“Wow” was the best description we could come up with when we stopped at the first available pull-off.
Reaching the top, we were over 9,000 feet in the air. The view was spectacular, and was well worth the treacherous hairpin turns. We let Spank play in the snow for a few minutes while we set up for a group photo.
Pictures just don’t do any justice to the views during the descent. Here’s just a sampling, but you really need to get out and see this part of the country for yourself to truly be awed by the beauty.
Back on level ground, we headed towards Wilcox to have a late lunch. We were told that the route would have a five mile stretch of hard-packed, passable dirt. It turned out to be washboard gravel, and was not nearly as bad for the V-Strom as it was for the VFR.
Once in Wilcox, we found the small but cozy Rodney’s. No room to eat inside, but tables out front and what appeared to be a patio area in the back. We figured we’d hit the jackpot upon noticing the personalized autographed pictures on the wall of Willie Nelson, Lorenzo Lamas, and Steve McQueen’s brother.
We placed our orders, sat with our sodas, and were taunted by the mouth-watering aroma while we waited. The food was spectacular and very reasonably priced, and Rodney was one of a kind. Unfortunately, he can’t read this for himself because he said he didn’t even know how to turn on a computer.
The result was empty plates and full bellies.
Well, not full enough that we couldn’t walk a half block over and get some ice cream and baked goods for dessert.
Once safely back in the park (well before the gate-locking curfew this time), we all decided a nap sounded like a great idea.
13 hours later…
April 1, 2006
Roper Lake State Park, AZ to Wilcox, AZ and Back
After checking the forecast for the Grand Canyon, it was decided that another night here would be optimal. To his dismay, Erik was sent back to the ranger’s station to renew the permit. This time, it was the head ranger on duty.
Erik: Good Morning
Ranger: How are you today?
Erik: If I was doing any better I’d have your job
Ranger: You must be doing pretty good then. How can I help you?
Erik: I need to renew our permit
Ranger: Hold on one second (and went inside to look in the blotter, and with a shake of his head) Bikers Unite?
Erik: Yes (bowing his head in shame)
Ranger: I heard that you’d talked to one of the other rangers yesterday and that y’all came to an agreement that you only had to pay once. (here follows a lecture of the rules of camping in Arizona state parks, but we won’t bore you with the details) If you look hard enough, you can find flaws in any rule. Since we already have an agreement, we’ll make an exception and honor it again. You only need to renew this for one day, right?
Erik: Yeah, we’ll be leaving tomorrow
Ranger: Good.
Erik resisted the urge to proclaim victory for the bikers out loud, and waited until he recounted the story to the group back at the site.
“Chilly” Bob Larson, our neighbor in an RV, was kind enough to give us some ideas for day rides in the area. Originally from Florida, he was now roaming the country with only what he could fit in his home on wheels.
He pointed up the nearby mountain to a set of antennas and told us of a road that went up there. There was no way down the back of the mountain with the road closed due to snow, so if we ventured up we’d have to come back down the same way. Intrigued, we decided it was an invitation to an adventure we couldn’t pass up.
Geared up and heading out two-up yet again we headed for the hills. We knew it would be cold up top since we could see the snowy peak from our campsite, so liners and warm clothes were the order of the day. Spank had complained about his view from the back of the bikes, so we let him have the best seat in the house for this romp (Mad Max style).
The mountain was steep and the ribbons of pavement wound around it ascending through trees, snow, and a few small mountain cottages.
“Wow” was the best description we could come up with when we stopped at the first available pull-off.
Reaching the top, we were over 9,000 feet in the air. The view was spectacular, and was well worth the treacherous hairpin turns. We let Spank play in the snow for a few minutes while we set up for a group photo.
Pictures just don’t do any justice to the views during the descent. Here’s just a sampling, but you really need to get out and see this part of the country for yourself to truly be awed by the beauty.
Back on level ground, we headed towards Wilcox to have a late lunch. We were told that the route would have a five mile stretch of hard-packed, passable dirt. It turned out to be washboard gravel, and was not nearly as bad for the V-Strom as it was for the VFR.
Once in Wilcox, we found the small but cozy Rodney’s. No room to eat inside, but tables out front and what appeared to be a patio area in the back. We figured we’d hit the jackpot upon noticing the personalized autographed pictures on the wall of Willie Nelson, Lorenzo Lamas, and Steve McQueen’s brother.
We placed our orders, sat with our sodas, and were taunted by the mouth-watering aroma while we waited. The food was spectacular and very reasonably priced, and Rodney was one of a kind. Unfortunately, he can’t read this for himself because he said he didn’t even know how to turn on a computer.
The result was empty plates and full bellies.
Well, not full enough that we couldn’t walk a half block over and get some ice cream and baked goods for dessert.
Once safely back in the park (well before the gate-locking curfew this time), we all decided a nap sounded like a great idea.
13 hours later…
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You guys will regret it if you don't follow US 191 North of Clifton at least up to Alpine and back... It is easily a top 5 road in the country. It would also be a chance to see the Morenci open pit copper mine, one of the largest in the world. Big doesn't even begin to describe it! Good to see the weather is cooperating and you are having a good time 
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It's too bad I didn't know your itinerary a little sooner. You were just a few miles from my sister (in Benson) when you were in Wilcox. You also missed a fantastic site at Katchner Caverns in Benson. Note the small person near the bottom of the photo.
You're making me very homesick with your AZ photos.
I'll second Scott's comments about Alpine but it's probably too late now.
You're making me very homesick with your AZ photos.
I'll second Scott's comments about Alpine but it's probably too late now.
Man, what beautiful photos. Are you sure some of those aren't painting????
Thanks for posting up - I'm addicted!!!!
Thanks for posting up - I'm addicted!!!!
Gilk51
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I keep looking at that picture and could swear that the image is from Carlsbad Caverns...Texas T said:You also missed a fantastic site at Katchner Caverns in Benson. Note the small person near the bottom of the photo.
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I love that Mt. Graham area. I've ridden that road to the top on a bicycle, back when I used to race. You went by several campgrounds on that climb that are nice to stay in too. Thanks for the pics, they bring back some memories.
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Kept secret since its discovery in 1974, Kartchner Caverns, 12 miles south of Benson, Arizona, was announced to the world in 1988. Still virtually pristine, this massive limestone cave has 13,000 feet of passages and two rooms as long as football fields. Finally opened as a state park November 12, 1999, this underground wilderness will remain protected while offering visitors a rare tour through multi-colored cave formations. The temperature inside the caverns averages 68°F year round, with the humidity at 99%.Gilk51 said:
http://www.desertusa.com/azkartchner/
There are a number of other sites with info about the caverns, but the great thing is how they were able to keep it a secret for such a long time. The original discoverers went to great lengths to ensure that this cave system would be well-protected from a careless and clueless public.
Tom
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Tourmeister said:
+1
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Sorry to have delayed the story for so long. Had some trouble getting internet access until now.
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Day 9
April 2, 2006
Roper Lake State Park, AZ to Lordsburg, NM (via Clifton, AZ)
…we awoke to a leisurely-paced Sunday morning, knowing that we could spend extra time getting packed since we were scheduled to ride up the Coronado Trail and camp in Alpine. “Chilly” Bob had suggested the route before he packed up his RV and headed out.
Most of the RVs rolled out also, and by noon the campsite was quite calm. We had time to sit and relax, get the story updated to the web for the last few days, and decide that today would be the ‘turning point’ on the trip. We’d gone about as far west as we could with the limited vacation time allotted, but we didn’t want to head back the same way we’d come. Instead, we’d head up north and then hook around to the east.
We hit the road by 2pm, just in time to make check-out. North on 191 towards Clifton, the wide open sweepers were amazing. A quick fill-up at the Circle K in town, and we were on our way.
Or so we thought.
Clifton is a mining town. The copper mine stretches for miles, and the only way over the mountain is to wind your way up through a labyrinth of hairpin turns with steep inclines. Trucks over 40 feet long were not permitted due to the tight radius on some of the turns.
And here’s where even well laid plans sometimes fail. Rebecca is afraid of heights. Add to that her fear of hairpin turns, and disaster struck hard. She panicked. Fear overtook her, and she simply could not continue to climb the mountain. She stopped on the side of the road as early as she could and waited to be rescued. For a few minutes, she waited and watched as other riders whizzed past on sport, adventure, and touring bikes. She tried to relax and take in the beauty of the mountain around her, but it was only enough for her to rationalize going back down into town and figuring out a different route.
Eventually, Gavin and Erik came back, asking if she was Ok with the standard thumbs-up. She vigorously shook her head no, and was directed to go up one more curve to a pull-off where Deb was waiting patiently. Once stopped and off the bike, she was able to take some deep breaths and drink some water. Gavin assured her that it would be Ok, and that we would go back down if she wanted to. She did, but only as a passenger.
Willing to help in whatever way necessary, Erik agreed to escort Gavin and Rebecca down the four miles that we’d ascended on his bike and then ride back up as Gavin’s passenger to bring the extra bike back down.
Now past five o’clock, a quick stop at Dairy Queen (the worst one ever) for some refueling and a pow-wow was in order to decide where to stay the evening. Once again, four bikers and a monkey were homeless with sunset only a couple of hours away. We knew another go with the rangers at Roper Lake State Park may be pushing it so we had to move to plan B. According to the web, the Gila National Forestry Park offered $5.00 primitive camping & was only 10 miles away.
We headed out of Clifton in search of the turn off only to find a 27 mile scenic byway with a treacherous hill for an entrance, rutted corners, washboard gravel and no signs of civilization or mention of any campsites. Erik was elected to scout ahead to check the conditions of the road. Misled by a pullover, Erik waved the group down only to find out that this was not the campsite and the road ahead was not paved & went on (seemingly) forever.
Now heading back from whence we came, daylight had faded. Safford was where we had started, but was not where we wanted to end the day. While making some phone calls to motels in the area, we spoke with some locals and discovered that not camping in Gila was a smart move. It seems a local girl was pulled out of her truck and buried by the side of the road under a pile of rocks. Creepy.
We decided to push on to the east to make some progress before calling it quits, and decided on Lordsburg only 75 miles away. Once there, we grabbed the quickest, cheapest, easiest motel room we could find.
It wasn’t much, but it was a warm bed and a roof over our heads without having to set up camp and worry about taking it all back down in the morning.
April 2, 2006
Roper Lake State Park, AZ to Lordsburg, NM (via Clifton, AZ)
…we awoke to a leisurely-paced Sunday morning, knowing that we could spend extra time getting packed since we were scheduled to ride up the Coronado Trail and camp in Alpine. “Chilly” Bob had suggested the route before he packed up his RV and headed out.
Most of the RVs rolled out also, and by noon the campsite was quite calm. We had time to sit and relax, get the story updated to the web for the last few days, and decide that today would be the ‘turning point’ on the trip. We’d gone about as far west as we could with the limited vacation time allotted, but we didn’t want to head back the same way we’d come. Instead, we’d head up north and then hook around to the east.
We hit the road by 2pm, just in time to make check-out. North on 191 towards Clifton, the wide open sweepers were amazing. A quick fill-up at the Circle K in town, and we were on our way.
Or so we thought.
Clifton is a mining town. The copper mine stretches for miles, and the only way over the mountain is to wind your way up through a labyrinth of hairpin turns with steep inclines. Trucks over 40 feet long were not permitted due to the tight radius on some of the turns.
And here’s where even well laid plans sometimes fail. Rebecca is afraid of heights. Add to that her fear of hairpin turns, and disaster struck hard. She panicked. Fear overtook her, and she simply could not continue to climb the mountain. She stopped on the side of the road as early as she could and waited to be rescued. For a few minutes, she waited and watched as other riders whizzed past on sport, adventure, and touring bikes. She tried to relax and take in the beauty of the mountain around her, but it was only enough for her to rationalize going back down into town and figuring out a different route.
Eventually, Gavin and Erik came back, asking if she was Ok with the standard thumbs-up. She vigorously shook her head no, and was directed to go up one more curve to a pull-off where Deb was waiting patiently. Once stopped and off the bike, she was able to take some deep breaths and drink some water. Gavin assured her that it would be Ok, and that we would go back down if she wanted to. She did, but only as a passenger.
Willing to help in whatever way necessary, Erik agreed to escort Gavin and Rebecca down the four miles that we’d ascended on his bike and then ride back up as Gavin’s passenger to bring the extra bike back down.
Now past five o’clock, a quick stop at Dairy Queen (the worst one ever) for some refueling and a pow-wow was in order to decide where to stay the evening. Once again, four bikers and a monkey were homeless with sunset only a couple of hours away. We knew another go with the rangers at Roper Lake State Park may be pushing it so we had to move to plan B. According to the web, the Gila National Forestry Park offered $5.00 primitive camping & was only 10 miles away.
We headed out of Clifton in search of the turn off only to find a 27 mile scenic byway with a treacherous hill for an entrance, rutted corners, washboard gravel and no signs of civilization or mention of any campsites. Erik was elected to scout ahead to check the conditions of the road. Misled by a pullover, Erik waved the group down only to find out that this was not the campsite and the road ahead was not paved & went on (seemingly) forever.
Now heading back from whence we came, daylight had faded. Safford was where we had started, but was not where we wanted to end the day. While making some phone calls to motels in the area, we spoke with some locals and discovered that not camping in Gila was a smart move. It seems a local girl was pulled out of her truck and buried by the side of the road under a pile of rocks. Creepy.
We decided to push on to the east to make some progress before calling it quits, and decided on Lordsburg only 75 miles away. Once there, we grabbed the quickest, cheapest, easiest motel room we could find.
It wasn’t much, but it was a warm bed and a roof over our heads without having to set up camp and worry about taking it all back down in the morning.
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That's too bad. We all have our own phobias and I know from experience what it's like to have to overcome something that strikes at the heart of your being. Acknowledging it is certainly the first step, and then starting to whittle away at the fear is the next step. I wouldn't consider that ride to be a "whittle" so you probably did well to stop where you did. Anyhow, I've continued to read all your posts with interest, so keep them coming.Squeaky said:
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Day 10
April 3, 2006
Lordsburg, NM to Santa Rosa, NM
Without the sun peering through the tents to wake us up, we slept in the motel room until someone finally stirred and asked “what time is it?” There had been much confusion over time zones, and it was only compounded by the clocks jumping ahead for Daylight Savings one of these last few nights. Thing is, Arizona doesn’t believe in Daylight Savings, so we jumped an hour just crossing the state line back into New Mexico. We’ve learned that our phones are the most accurate resource, since they get the time directly from the towers that know where we are better than we do.
A quick shower or two, then we loaded up the bikes lickety-split. We’re continuing to pack the bikes more efficiently as the trip progresses, and it has helped save time in the morning. Breakfast was scrounged from what we had with us to save on time (a muffin, some pop tarts, and assorted beverages) and we were on the road heading east again.
As we hit yet another scenic byway, it was clear that things were about to get twisty. Gavin pulled over to make sure everyone would be Ok with the route and got three thumbs up. He double-checked with Rebecca to make sure she was doing Ok with the tight turns, and she said that she’d be slow, but that she could do it.
Well, slow she was. Deb was patient and stayed in the back so that Rebecca would not feel alone, but gave her enough space to keep from feeling crowded when she slowed for the turns. Gavin and Erik were up ahead, having lots of fun evening out the wear on the sides of their tires. They stopped every few miles to make sure the girls were still on the road and making progress, then continued on their way once they saw the familiar Suzuki headlights closing in.
Atop a pass, there was a pullout and the guys figured it was as good a place as any to stop for a break and make sure everyone was still Ok.
Extra attention was being paid to Rebecca’s agreement to ride through here, since she had not done as well the day before. She agreed that it was a nail biter, but that the trees helped block the view and masked the height of the cliffs they were on. She was taking it extra slow (so slow, in fact, that she had to pull over to let a station wagon by) but was trying to keep her focus on the road and not her fear of it. Deep breathing, a mellow music mix on the MP3 player, and the knowledge that Deb was behind her all attributed to her ability to redeem herself from the embarrassing experience just 24 hours earlier. Somehow, confidence was starting to set in.
Noticing the road showing even tighter turns to come on the GPS screen, Gavin recommended a cut-off for the girls to take to get off the mountain. On the map, it showed a left turn just ahead that would meet back up with the guys four miles later. Unfortunately, the turn-off was not there. The guys waited for the girls to catch up to let them know what was ahead, and that we’d meet back up at the bottom.
Once down the mountain safe and sound, we eventually ended up in Williamsburg, NM for fuel and lunch. We found Café Rio, with a pleasant waitress and books at the table if you felt like getting some reading in with your meal.
We had a chance to work on the story some more, but Spank was itching to get back on the road and out of this one-horse town.
We were heading east while the sun was setting in the west. The GPS had us in a dead heat with the sunset, but we were determined to make it to the campsite in Santa Rosa before darkness fell across the land. As the shadows grew longer, our throttles gained momentum.
We were close, but failed to achieve tent pitching without the need for headlamps.
Once the campsite was made cozy for the evening, Deb and Erik settled in for a few heated games of Scrabble. Gavin and Rebecca called it a night and let sleep take over.
April 3, 2006
Lordsburg, NM to Santa Rosa, NM
Without the sun peering through the tents to wake us up, we slept in the motel room until someone finally stirred and asked “what time is it?” There had been much confusion over time zones, and it was only compounded by the clocks jumping ahead for Daylight Savings one of these last few nights. Thing is, Arizona doesn’t believe in Daylight Savings, so we jumped an hour just crossing the state line back into New Mexico. We’ve learned that our phones are the most accurate resource, since they get the time directly from the towers that know where we are better than we do.
A quick shower or two, then we loaded up the bikes lickety-split. We’re continuing to pack the bikes more efficiently as the trip progresses, and it has helped save time in the morning. Breakfast was scrounged from what we had with us to save on time (a muffin, some pop tarts, and assorted beverages) and we were on the road heading east again.
As we hit yet another scenic byway, it was clear that things were about to get twisty. Gavin pulled over to make sure everyone would be Ok with the route and got three thumbs up. He double-checked with Rebecca to make sure she was doing Ok with the tight turns, and she said that she’d be slow, but that she could do it.
Well, slow she was. Deb was patient and stayed in the back so that Rebecca would not feel alone, but gave her enough space to keep from feeling crowded when she slowed for the turns. Gavin and Erik were up ahead, having lots of fun evening out the wear on the sides of their tires. They stopped every few miles to make sure the girls were still on the road and making progress, then continued on their way once they saw the familiar Suzuki headlights closing in.
Atop a pass, there was a pullout and the guys figured it was as good a place as any to stop for a break and make sure everyone was still Ok.
Extra attention was being paid to Rebecca’s agreement to ride through here, since she had not done as well the day before. She agreed that it was a nail biter, but that the trees helped block the view and masked the height of the cliffs they were on. She was taking it extra slow (so slow, in fact, that she had to pull over to let a station wagon by) but was trying to keep her focus on the road and not her fear of it. Deep breathing, a mellow music mix on the MP3 player, and the knowledge that Deb was behind her all attributed to her ability to redeem herself from the embarrassing experience just 24 hours earlier. Somehow, confidence was starting to set in.
Noticing the road showing even tighter turns to come on the GPS screen, Gavin recommended a cut-off for the girls to take to get off the mountain. On the map, it showed a left turn just ahead that would meet back up with the guys four miles later. Unfortunately, the turn-off was not there. The guys waited for the girls to catch up to let them know what was ahead, and that we’d meet back up at the bottom.
Once down the mountain safe and sound, we eventually ended up in Williamsburg, NM for fuel and lunch. We found Café Rio, with a pleasant waitress and books at the table if you felt like getting some reading in with your meal.
We had a chance to work on the story some more, but Spank was itching to get back on the road and out of this one-horse town.
We were heading east while the sun was setting in the west. The GPS had us in a dead heat with the sunset, but we were determined to make it to the campsite in Santa Rosa before darkness fell across the land. As the shadows grew longer, our throttles gained momentum.
We were close, but failed to achieve tent pitching without the need for headlamps.
Once the campsite was made cozy for the evening, Deb and Erik settled in for a few heated games of Scrabble. Gavin and Rebecca called it a night and let sleep take over.
Last edited:
Gilk51
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on the reports - very well done & fun reading.I'm with Brian on the phobia stuff - sounds like you were able to get through it. More power to ya, Bec!
Are ya'll planning to be home by this weekend?
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Yae is not a word.
bobcat
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I'm wondering if the campground that you were unable to find was the "Blackjack Campground"? If so, that's the one where I dumped my bike in the gravel on my trip last August. 
Eh, you didn't need to go there anyway.
I can relate to your fear of heights, the roads in the southwest can really present a challenge for us acrophobics. Good for you that you were able to overcome it enough to go over Emory Pass the next day.
Eh, you didn't need to go there anyway. I can relate to your fear of heights, the roads in the southwest can really present a challenge for us acrophobics. Good for you that you were able to overcome it enough to go over Emory Pass the next day.
buck000
0
Hey, Rebecca,
Hang in there, and thanks for honestly sharing your fears.
I drove a rental on 550 between Ouray and Durango, CO, and got some serious tinglies in the car.
Great ride reports, keep 'em coming...
Hang in there, and thanks for honestly sharing your fears.
I drove a rental on 550 between Ouray and Durango, CO, and got some serious tinglies in the car.
Great ride reports, keep 'em coming...