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This is a photo from when the Bay Bridge collapsed.

For those of you not in the Bay area, the Bay Bridge is one of wo/mans more successful attempts at mastery over nature.
9 long miles over nature.

Were it not for this bridge, my re route would be 88 miles around the Bay, to arrive at the same point.

Riding high above the Bay and above the East bound traffic is the West bound traffic. It’s a double decker bridge. Oh, did I mention there is a tunnel, too? There is no where to go should an unlucky bloke have an engine problem. Traffic is zipping by at fast speed and the heavy wind from the Bay is often there to greet you.

So basically, that first ride across it, for a scooterist, is no small feat of mastering our own mastery over nature . Last year I rode the Bay Bridge, and before doing so I searched scooter forums for tales of terror or triumph. I found both. Ok, fair enough. Many scooterists in the Bay Area approach it as no big deal.

Today’s crossing was worse than my first time. The weather conditions were great though; sunny, warm, no wind. See, now I know exactly what it’s like. Before, I was slaying the dragon with every rotation of the tires, today I was counting seconds and statistics. Like the first games in a World Series-it’s too early to predict the outcome based on just one victory.
Perhaps lunch right beforehand was a bad idea.

After six days off, it was quite a way to get back in the saddle. I threw a victory fist as I exited and thought to myself that the worst part of the day was done, early. Not so.

Pushing East past Oakland, I entered into beautiful canyons. The curves were fun and tight, tighter than Hwy1. The temperature went up 10 degrees and the smell of Eucalyptus trees filled my helmet. I had been warned about gravel on these roads by Laura, who knew firsthand about wiping out on them. After viewing the first pile I dropped my speed. I was cruising slowly, not worried, thinking I would make up time down the road.

Emerging from the canyons I was shuffled into heavy traffic moving around the burbs and then onto an industrial stretch. Here the roads became horrible. Oh, wait, they were just like the ones in San Francisco. Except that I needed to travel at least 55mph over them. The asphalt was uneven, there were potholes, big gaps outlined the train tracks and large cracks replaced smooth roadway-all pretty hazardous. I won’t travel this road again and I don’t recommend it for anyone on a 125cc scooter with my amount of gear.

The google route steered me onto the Freeway, apparently the only way to navigate through the farmlands, aside from Interstate 5. Freeway translated into 2 lanes on the same dangerous roads, with no shoulder. People were speeding at around 80. I was doing my best to keep a steady 55 while peering ahead for bumps, cracks and potholes. When I could safely pull over on the occasional dirt driveways, I did. Traffic was piled up behind me and people flicked me off and honked hysterically. I missed Shaun. Together, two scooterists command a tad bit of respect. Alone, we can be targets.

And then the bridge near Antioch-which was actually neat, but SO HIGH up that the wind gave me white knuckles. Phew, this had to be the worst of it. Then, two steel grate bridges-longer than any I yet traveled.

But it was hot. And that’s why I’m on this route, to avoid a damp, cold ride up the Coastline.

I was feeling very nervous, there were freeways still ahead for awhile. I was trying to check in with my intuition. My mind was anticipating all kinds of horrible crap and this has never happened. The brain is such a powerful weapon-and mine was running amuck. The lady who found my wallet, Constance, had given me a Gremlin Bell-for protection. The bell had fallen off the bike as soon as I crossed the Bay Bridge. My good friend Jess, of 20 years, texted me out of the blue, saying she was thinking about me. I shifted my thoughts into a positive direction.

Then I realized, stopping for my fourth liter of water- I’m just sick. My glands are so swollen I can barely swallow and I’m lightheaded. I realized the bike is probably handling so horribly because my suspension is off. After 17,000 miles, it’s probably time to have a look at that.  The bike has been harder to control lately and my feet seem closer to the ground now-and I haven’t switched shoes or grown.

To end on a better note-San Francisco was a great visit. The owner at the Hotel Maribelle basically gave me my money back today by donating $200 to the “scooter tour.” I said my goodbyes at the San Francisco Scooter Center. I went by this morning after saying my goodbye to Shaun. I needed a group photo of the lovely SFSC crew. Wonderful, smart, entertaining people over there. If you ever stop by, ask Barry if you can have the tour of his museum upstairs. After seeing so many Lambrettas this past week, I’ve developed a bit of a need for one.

I had a quick lunch at Whole Foods, who donated a $20 gift card. On the way in to the store, I noticed this grafitti. It reminded me of the conversation Barry and I had 10 minutes earlier.

The roads stayed the same until about 25 miles before Chico, where I am hanging my hat tonight. The goal was 311 miles, but with all the treacherous going, I fell short by 100 miles. For now, it’s sleep and Vitamin C for me. And some more of Peter Beagle’s book.

this is the route ahead

My tempo feels a bit off today. I’m leaving early in the morning, bound for Oregon. I’ve been here in San Fran for six days and it’s time to go. The land legs are back and there has been time to rejuvenate. Recognizing that I’ve reached the halfway point is making me a bit introspective. Breaking the tempo is good and bad.

Living out of two saddlebags sometimes creates a sense of claustrophobia. Six days at the Hotel Mirabelle has offered the perfect reprieve for a halfway point. My stuff is now hanging up in a closet in a very normal fashion. My shrine is lit. My toiletries are spread about and even the bedspread is carelessly frumpled. I have, in a sense, a room of my own, a recollection of home. Finally, after 10 days, ahhhh, a laundromat. Daphne gave me a hard time that my clothes reeked of campfire. I don’t think anyone else noticed over the 2 stroke smoke at the scooter rally….

I’ve even just simply sat in here and fallen asleep while reading. On Friday we went to City Lights, the notorious Beat Poet bookstore. It’s a San Fran landmark. They had every single book on my list that Barnes and Nobles never has. So I splurged and bought I see By My Own Outfit, by Peter Beagle. So far it’s a well written, inspiring account of two men traveling cross country by scooter, in the 60’s. When I’m not scootering, I want to read about it.

Once I gear up the scoot and start riding my reality will be normal again. Earlier in the trip I was able to volunteer more. Then my focus became surviving the South West.

Next, it became coordinating the ride for two people. Shaun commented the other day that I never stop “doing.” I was becoming overwhelmed by the amount of logistics that must always be done, yet impressed at how much I can do when I put my mind to it.

Maps, lodging, blogging, driving, eating, friends to see, strangers to meet, volunteer orgs, Peace orgs, raffle tallies, email responses, promoting, video.

I don’t have a lot of gusto for all the planning, it’s just something I do. Sometimes the strapping and shoving and balancing gear feels like a waste of time-as though all day is just spent preparing for the Peace ride. I want to talk about Peace. I want to volunteer. I want to fundraise.

If you can help me with these things-please send me an email. Can you coordinate a group ride for Peace if I’m visiting your town? Do you know where I can stay? Do you have a radio show contact? Can you send out an email letting your friends know about the website?

Can you help raise funds? I am a bit shy of reaching the 50% mark.

The odometer hit 17,000 miles the other day. It humors me to say- “Oh, only 5,000 miles left,”-a proper cross country trip in itself. There is still much to look forward to, especially the North Midwest and parts east of Chicago, like Kent State-places I’ve never really explored.

Those who have contributed to this ride are a continual inspiration to me. I miss the many folks I’ve met while arriving at this point. I’ve received a few kind emails letting me know I have family in those parts shall I ever return.

Not only will this be the largest Peace sign created in history, it will be the best, because of the people who helped create it with me.

It’s time to start wrestling with the gear and say goodbye to the charming Hotel Mirabelle.

The latest collection to my riding gear comes from Dainese. Barry convinced a raffle winner at the rally to give me the prize-a pair of cargo pants with knee/shin armor that slips in easily. They are fancy pants and I adore them. All of my possessions right now are mostly functional things.

Today I went by the Dainese shop and spoke with Shelley for a couple of hours. This lady has really put some road miles behind her. She offered a lower back support brace. Oh, on Sunday I won my first rally award, for longest distance scooted-although I would have impeached someone had I not won. But it was a thrill and one of my cool prizes was a new orange safety vest. THIS PHOTO was taken with just a camera flash, all the lights were off.

The road promises an early salutation, so I bid you goodnight.

Covers our test drive up a massive hill and then rally footage from Saturday and Sunday.

San Fran-Scootin from Alix Bryan on Vimeo.

Alright folks, I’m gearing up to offer you some fantastic updates. I’ve taken a four day vacation to attend the Scooter Rage 22 Rally, where they passed out Red Ryder BB Guns to some lucky winners. (Don’t shoot your eye out Ralphie)

And to visit with Daphne, who flew out on Thursday. I have a bunch of great footage from riding around San Fran that I’m editing. This time I had a camerawoman, for all those who write with concerns that I’m filming while driving…..

Today she flew home and I actually slept a bunch. Between me, her and Shaun-we split a hotel. It was miraculously just $240 a week. And it’s not a brothel. Hotel Mirabelle is a secret treasure that Barry Gwyn let me in on. Reminiscent of a European hotel, we share bathrooms and showers with everyone else on the floor. So what! It’s central, clean and quirky.

My original plan was to stay with San Francisco Scooter Girl Lauren Harp. These ladies are impressive, fast and fabulous-visit their site and buy a calendar. I’ll be raffling off a Calendar of their’s next week. Anyhow, when my entourage grew, I made a choice not to crash her pad and overstay our welcome. Now that me and Shaun have the place until Wednesday, I’m taking care of planning the rest of the trip out.

P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER is at the halfway point and I’m humbled by the generosity, enthusiasm and community I’ve experienced so far. I’m missing people from states all around the country and looking forward to meeting more.

I’m enjoying getting my land legs back, aside from some incredible city rides! I couldn’t believe me and Daphne were taking 18% grade hills-downhill and uphill. The weather has been chilly-even the natives say it’s a bit colder than normal. Today I decided not to take the coastline up to Eugene.

No matter how much bread and pasta I eat, I can’t get enough skin on my bones to stay warm. Daphne brought out my heavier Corazzo jacket-now the third jacket I’ve worn on this trip due to temp. changes. The coastline temps are forecasting highs of 60 degrees. Throw in the damp mist for 8 hours of riding and I predict it will feel like 48-50 degrees. Brrrr…. I miss the SouthWest heat.

I’ve seriously contemplated this all day and am now choosing an inland route. My regrets to some fine people I won’t be able to meet, like Kelton, who has supported P.E.A.C.E since June last year! And the Slug Rockets, a scoot group in Arcata. However, I do still need a place to stay in Eugene if you know of anyone….

Now that the decision is made, I’m moving on to some video for ya! Here is a wicked weird one of me and Daphne walking to the Pacific for her first time.

We arrived San Fran at 8pm. And by 9pm Shaun had his first fall. Holy Crow! The sound of your fellow scooterist companion hitting the ground is not cool. Actually, it was the scooter hitting the ground that I heard through my full face helmet. We came up on a stoplight with a patch of uneven, rough asphalt and he had the misfortune of braking while going over it. Despite adrenalin pumping through me all day, I found another reserve of it as I turned to see Shaun lying in the road and traffic coming.

Several cars stopped to see what assistance we needed, but Shaun was already up and apparently ok. It’s important to lay there and do a pain check before jumping up-which he said he did. Sadly, his Buddy took some cosmetic hits-but better the scoot than him. The headset is all damaged but the headlight works just fine. The right mirror stem broke off. The Givi has some battlescars too, but his Listerine remained intact!

I can’t believe he survived the gravel that almost potentially catapalted us over a cliff into the ocean, only to crash as soon as he reached his first goal. The second is getting back home, alone, to Tucson. Hopefully, y’all scooterists can jump in and offer lodging on the mans way back to Tucson, if he is on your path. Quite a feat arriving San Fran for this newbie- he just hit 2,000 miles today!

I’m still looking for a Gatorade pitcher to toss over him, which might just happen at the Scooter Rage 22 Rally that kicks off tomorrow! Finally, my schedule coincides with a rally! And on top of it-Daphne flies in tomorrow as well!

After packing up the campsite today, we rushed along the coast, taking very few pictures.

We did, however, meet Curtis on Hwy 1. You can’t help but notice his bright yellow Peace machine. It’s not getting quite the mileage as mine, but his mission is going the distance. The distance being New Orleans, multiple times, to deliver donated goods.

We face a moral crisis as a country as as people.
I just want to help Our Country, by following what’s in my heart.
I am about people helping people here in the United States.

I don’t know much about his org, but check out the website. http://www.followyourheartactionnetwork.com/Volunteer.htmHis lady friend offered us some water and chocolate and then we were off. Stay tuned for the insightful definition of Peace that Curtis offered. I don’t know anything about his operation-but he was very kind and drives a spectacular yellow truck.

The day has been long, the past 10 days long. I’ve gotten used to seeing Shaun in my rearview mirrors, it will be strange to adjust to his absence. I’m grateful to have shared part of his life experience and glad I could be there as he learned more about riding and about Peace in our country.

I’m here in San Fran until Monday or Tuesday. Come out to the rally and say Hi-it’s gonna be a good ol ruckus by the Bay!

Day8 Shaun
Day 38 Alix

Distance traveled 201 miles

We geared up heavy today for the ride, it was freezing. We waited until noon for the big fog cloud to burn away. Apparently, the sun wasn’t hot enough to do so. And apparently, there is a name for this phenomenon-June Gloom.

June Gloom chills to the bone. I navigated us through Santa Barbara, and when we reached the edge of town we stopped to look at traffic on Highway 101. A lady at the gas station said it was the worst time to be on there. We confirmed that it was way to busy to be a pleasant ride. We jumped on San Marcos Pass and the temperature went up about 15 degrees.

The Gloom disappears inland. We crossed some gorgeous mountains, with a bad crosswind and heavy traffic, but not hardcore at all. Our road ran into Highway 101 and we shed a layer before jumping on it. Traffic was steady, but we held our own. The wind had ceased and didn’t restrain us. In fact, both of our scooters performed better than ever before. I was hitting 73 easy. The hills were perfect to slingshot ourselves on the incline. 62 miles later we arrived San Luis Obispo.

Looking at my clock, I saw that we made it in real time, automobile time. We were both joking that 55mph just wouldn’t be the same again. Seriously, I’m doing this on the 125cc to prove a point, that we use big machines when they often aren’t needed. If I can ride this scoot 22,000 miles, you can ride one 20 miles to work, etc. But if I ever do a long trip like this again, ha ha ha, it’s got to be on a 250cc. That blissful moment today, without wind and in the perfect air temperature, rocking hills-getting the full top speed from my scoot-well I want that without hoping.

We picked up the coastal highway and let it rip. I let Shaun take the lead and was impressed how he handled the curves. I think he’s learned a thing or two about riding. I have some of the most gorgeous scenery to upload later. We were stopped by a roadblock outside of San Luis Obispo because a helicopter was filming a scene from a movie.

We are camping tonight in Big Sur and there is no internet. We stopped in this cafe for food and to watch the 4th quarter of the Laker/Celtics game. Although it is beautiful in this area, the locals capitalize on it. I just paid $6 a gallon for gas. Usually I say point two fingers, but this time-I’m pointing, er, one.

And to celebrate that we are uninjured. Highway 1 has numerous curves, runs along the ocean and the road usually meets air-plummets 500 ft or more without guardrail. We were on the mountain side though, with the ocean on the opposite side. There were several Land Slide area warning signs that usually indicated rocks lying like dice thrown.

However, one particular curve was hosting an 8 ft stretch of gravel, about 1 ft deep. The sun in our eyes, we had no time to see it. And it was masquerading as asphalt anyhow, black gravel. I was so pissed and am actually looking for someone to tell about this. They are going to be picking up bones off the highway from that patch. It is miraculous that we both knew not to hit the brakes-and actually fought the impulse. The weight of my bags pushes the scoot around and I just held on while the bike moved back and forth on the patch. All I thought about was which leg might break. Fortunately, all is well and we get an adrenalin rush when we talk about it. 17,000 miles and I’ve never seen an ambush like that!

We are off to stoke the fire and set up tents. Peace! Those of you reading in San Fran-see you soon!

Highway 1 from Alix Bryan on Vimeo.

*clicking on the pictures takes you to my photo account, where they get bigger!*

Tonight finds me in Carpinteria, CA; a little town currently enshrouded by ocean mist. It’s about 274 miles from San Diego. Tonight we are lodged in a Motel 6; definitely enjoying splitting motel costs with Sean. Since last Wednesday we’ve had wonderful hosts each night-and each day has been incredibly action packed.

On Thursday afternoon we rode from National City to the burbs of San Diego. Our visit in National City was rather uneventful. We passed by the Naval Base and stopped to look at the aircraft carrier that dropped bombs in Vietnam. It started raining and we nixed camping. After grabbing a way overpriced hotel room, although probably cheaper than San Diego, we both did some work. Sure, we could have gone off to Tijuana, it was only 4 miles away, but instead we behaved. I was a bit giddy that the Southern part of the Peace sign was completed.

That was a grueling 2,112 mile ride. I really wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. My relief that it was over translated into my first 8 hours slumber in quite awhile. Tensions along the border are very high right now. It was unlikely that something might happen to me but drug smugglers are literally engaged in blood bath duels with the police. Just the other day, a smuggler was wounded in a shoot out and taken to a hospital. His gang stormed the hospital and shot civilians, doctors and nurses, anyone in the way just to get to him and kill him. Innocent bystanders are irrelevant in these wars. If anyplace needs to be included in the Peace sign, it is our border with Mexico.

Thursday:
We packed up and headed over to our hosts in San Diego, Jan and John. They are the regional area coordinators of the Americans for the Department of Peace. He contacted me on March 25 with an invitation for lodging, saying that, “You have many like-minded peace fans in AFDOP.”

Like minded? My god, yes. I’m humbled by the generosity and welcoming that Shaun and I received. We glimpsed a PEACE sign hanging above the entrance and then John opened the door and greeted us warmly. It felt great from the first second. I had told informed Shaun about the Dep’t of Peace the night before. Like many people, he had never heard of it, but seemed very interested. The dynamic between the four of us was great.

John and Shaun were able to geek out on programming chat. We spent three very incredible nights with them. They had a hot tub for the sore muscles and enough food to feed a tribe. Every single need we had was met without hesitation. They were brilliant, charming, and fun. I had no idea what to expect but was blown away by how fantastic they were.

Shaun went exploring while I worked at a coffee shop. We met up later at the Vespa shop in Hillcrest and talked to Jason for awhile. I spoke with the marketing director at Whole Foods about donating a gift card for food-with no luck, sadly.

Then we explored San Diego by taking the trolley around the city, hopping on and off at spots. Shaun wanted to experience some nightlife and so we wound up walking around the 5th street club area. A bouncer, with fangs, at House of Blues, pointed us in the right direction for some local music. We had a long chat with the door lady, who recommended fragmob.com. It’s a cool website where you send in photos from your cellphone and they are updated almost real time. She suggested posting my photos there as a way to reach out to more people.

We walked into the club downstairs, just as the band was playing “Sesame Street.” After an hour we headed back to the metro; talking and people watching.

Friday:
In the afternoon we set out to Motorsports, the local Genuine dealership. I picked up my care package that Daphne mailed and we hung out for about 3 hours. Like every scooter shop across America, they were bustling and had few scoots left. Alex Kohn is a really smart, fun guy. We spent some time talking and he asked if I wanted some money. He came back with a $200 donation. Then he gave us tshirts-some of the best quality I’ve seen yet.

Shaun and I fielded questions about our scoots and the Buddy in general from prospective customers. We met Kristal, who has 46,000 miles on his Piaggio MP3, in just one year, just riding around town! Jan and John had arranged a dinner party, so time with the Motorsports guys was cut short. San Diego is a great town to ride around. There are many hills, Eucalyptus trees, flowers, and amazing panoramas. It is a big sprawling city, but the scenery makes the rides go by quickly. Except on Friday afternoons-good old California gridlock traffic had us running in the door for the dinner party; three guests had already arrived.

In the remaining daylight everyone congregated around our scooters. Shaun let a couple of people test drive his, everyone else signed the P.E.A.C.E. SCOOT and asked a bunch of questions. There was a lot of laughter; we felt comfortable right away with the 16 strangers that showed up to welcome us. Inside the table was stocked with wine and food. With just 24 hour notice, quite a crowd showed. Jan recommended us all gathering in a circle to introduce ourselves and say how we were affiliated with Peace. Then she asked that Shaun and I answer questions about the ride. I hope there are more events ahead like this!

One message echoed throughout the circle was that amid the real challenges of life, they were all working to emanate Peace in their own personal way. No one there thought they had the answer, but they were emphasizing the importance of being deliberate and considering how you can constantly seek and choose peace, if just within in your own life. Every person there was very authentic and open. It was an incredibly real experience and I’m thankful the party happened. They were really curious about the ride and amazed by all the nuances. They taught me a lot and it was inspiring for me to meet so many people working for Peace. Shaun handled it all very smoothly. He seemed captivated by the situation.

He ran off for a little while to hang out with the neighbors and I talked to Jan and John. We counted up the donation basket money-all in all $469 was raised in San Diego-that’s $281 for nonprofits!

Saturday:
Despite a very late night, I was up early to meet Peter, the beachblogger. As I posted, we went out posting Peace signs and he shared his perspective with me in a video I have yet to release. We share many views and it was a great 3 hours with a unique artist, peace maker.

I rushed back to the house and we went out to mow my first lawn into a Peace sign. There is still video from that which will be posted soon. Amy was great to let me mow her lawn and I hope many other follow! It was an grand house overlooking the ocean. The local news contacted me but we were never able to coordinate a date.

We spent the evening with Jan and John, who treated us to dinner. Shaun and I were determined to make our 4pm arrival in LA, so we packed the bags up and placed the scoots in the garage.

Sunday:
We still didn’t arrive on time. The distance was shorter than most rides, but the time was the same. Traffic lights killed our time. Welcome to LA and surrounding counties. The first part of the ride was stunning and we ran into 50 scooterists out on a ride to raise money for Breast Cancer Research.

Mike and Jen were very cool about us showing up an hour late. They bought us tickets for the Dodgers game. Sadly, the only time they scored was during first inning. We laughed and hooted, ate stadium food. Three bats were broken during the game, Vince Vaughn was there and laughably, the Cubs have a player named, Fukudome. Shaun’s friends picked him up after the game and I went home with Mike and Jen. They have the best bungalow in Pasadena, chock full of collectables. It was an early night. Last year they lodged me as well. Their bed has to go down as one of the best.
Monday:
7 hours later I was up, drinking coffee with Mike. We headed to the shop and even though it was closed, we spent the day talking to customers. Just turning on the lights brings them in!

Eric from Modern Buddy came out and we expertly fielded customer questions. The three of us had lunch. Mike is always good to me-he supports me because of the long ride I’m doing-but our personal beliefs are very different. In 2002, he actually rode a scooter up to Alaska from LA. A vintage scooter nonetheless, and in 19 days. Him and Jen always seem to be hosting scooterists-many thanks. Eric gave me some great scooter pins that I had to share with Shaun. 🙂

NBC came by and filmed a piece on alternative transportation and fuel costs. It’s a horrible piece, but you can find it here: http://video.knbc.com/player/?id=261323

Feel free to leave a comment on their website that they should cover more of the Peace ride story!

At 4 pm we were on the road, just trying to carve out some of the ride up to San Francisco. Daphne flies in to join the P.E.A.C.E ride on Thursday, which also coincides with a scooter rally.

I’ll go back and add some photos to this one, but time is short and it’s late-I just wanted to get something up since it’s been awhile!
There are new photos in the flickr account.
Here is a video of today’s landscape:

It’s been awhile since my last update. Right now I’m nodding asleep while writing. The four days here in San Diego have been action packed-lots of exploring, a Peace dinner party, superb hosts, Peace actions, visit to the local scooter shops. We leave early in the morning for LA-bags are packed and ready to go. Mike and his wife Jen will be hosting us, even taking us to a Dodgers game.
Our time there will be brief, arriving tomorrow, leaving Monday. Shaun gets a tour up to the Hollywood sign and we get to meet Eric, who created Modern Buddy.

Today I had the pleasure of meeting BeachBlogger-who I’ve waited months to meet. We went out freeway blogging.

Peter is a interesting character. He’s been on my radar through OMPS, where I discovered his lovely form of Peace art-writing messages in the beaches around San Diego. He welcomed me this morning with fresh squeezed orange juice from tree in his yard and a super cool hand made sign.

After interviewing him (will be posted here) and a Japanese lunch, I zipped on over to North County and FINALLY MOWED MY FIRST YARD. Lots of “blogging” today.

Fortunately, the method that we brainstormed to create the perfect circle worked out really well. We measured out the diameter, folded the rope in half, and staked the rope in the center. John walked in front of me with the rope to the front wheel of the mower. The sign itself was perfect. I admit being a little nervous for the first one-but it’s cake now.

The grass varied in length however and so the sign isn’t that clear. Pat and Ami promised to “cultivate Peace” all summer long by mowing over the spot-hopefully we will get an update on it with pictures.

Will write a catch-up blog….but here is a video of a great hill ride. Riding around San Diego is great fun; dashing up and down hills with panoramic views of the mountains and water.

Day 2 for Shaun, Day 32 for me
Miles covered:150 miles
Starting temp= 100
Ending temp=52

Shaun being appropriately initiated with an almost 300 mile ride, this ride was supposed to be easy-about 211 miles.
We each had a fair amount of gas and planned to gas up on the outskirts of town. But that happened rather quickly. And then suddenly we were also at the Mexico Border. The clue was “Last U-Turn.” Oh, and the massive Corona beer advertisement. The google directions were horrible. We retraced out path, looking for a frontage road. We found it. Here it is:

We should have gone back into Yuma for gas. Feeling brave from the night before, we jumped on I-8. I don’t promote Interstate travel; 6 lanes of traffic and two shoulder separate you from the landscape. The back roads are rich with true culture, not a homogenous American consumer culture. I was itchy though-this last leg was meant a huge portion of the peace sign would be complete- 2,112 miles covered from New Orleans!

They call California the Promised Land-maybe the homestretch wasn’t supposed to be easy. The road was busier than the night before. We still felt pretty comfortable, but the wind was hurting our top speed. We kept our emergency signals on and hung together. For miles, the pinkish beige sand was shaped into various, careless piles by the wind. The wind was whipping heavily through the dunes that surrounded both sides of the Interstate. I saw an exit with a state road that I knew would take us north. We took the exit, but stopped to look in all directions and decided there would be NO fuel ahead. So we pushed on.

And there was no fuel ahead that direction either. I mean, REALLY. It’s preposterous to me that these areas are so under developed. One godsend exit appeared, proclaiming no more services for 39 miles after. Not godsend at all really. Unless you stop to speculate that maybe we avoided a worse fate by our delay. The delay that happened because the only fueling station in the middle of the Sahara was closed-closed for three hours.

Nothing left to do but keep scootin. Since it looked doubtful for Shaun, we agreed to just pull over on the shoulder when he ran out. It happened. There is a 30-40 mile difference between our tanks. When he is out, I have yet to hit the red zone on mine, which can get me about 20-30 miles. I considered pushing ahead and picking up gas. This would mean braving the Interstate alone, with a top speed of 55-60. And a 30 mile roundtrip. We decided to see what would happen first.

Being so close to the border means that Border Patrol cruise the area, in abundance. Yet, the only two we saw where on the back of tow trucks. The sun was branding us and water was running low. One guy who stopped had no gas, but gave us 6 bottles of water. Jeremy stopped next and offered us a sweet situation. Godsend. He was delivering equipment and had a lift, moving blankets, tiedowns and space. And was going to the exact exit as us. As a motorcyclist, he sympathized with our lot. 15 minutes later, we were ready to roll.

We lost about 2.5 hours there. We pushed on after lunch, coffee and lively political conversation with the locals in El Centro. I was feeling optimistic that we would make it. Outside of town the wind almost toppled my scooter. It was the closest I have come to wetting my pants-instead I was screaming in the helmet. Not in panic, but in frustration. I stopped to adjust the saddlebags, bringing them up higher. This seemed to help, but the wind was still wicked.

Once we turned onto the road that winds through Anaz-Borrego national park, traffic disappeared, and we could drop to a safer speed-about 45 mph. Shaun seems to have less problems in the wind and I suspect this has to do with all my gear. I couldn’t even stand in place when I stopped to film some of the landscape with the wide angle lens.

The terrain however, was stunning. Although, I do miss the cacti of Western Arizona, which had faded by Ajo. There were mountain chains running beside and ahead of us, with desert pushing up to their base. The sun was low, it was after 5pm. The straight away began to curve through hills; hills made of little boulders. Soon we were taking sharper curves through mountains lush with green trees. Great curves. Really, aside from the wind, you couldn’t ask for better riding. This national park has 500 miles of well developed trails. For some videos of the rides, I’ve created a set through my flickr account.

We passed a road leading to Borrego Springs and I thought about Chris McCandless, Into the Wild, and his odyssey-his grand journey to seek truth and change his life. I wanted to go visit and soak in the springs. I wondered what experience Shaun was having-wondered actually, just who this guy is. We barely know one another. It was quite an honor that he wants to be on the P.E.A.C.E SCOOT. The mountains were pretty steep and as we climbed, the temperatures dropped. It’s been hot since New Orleans. This was cold.

I was zooming along through the curves, lost in the smells and sights of a forest-it’s been awhile since I’ve seen anything but desert. I noticed Shaun wasn’t with me. Julian was 2 miles ahead and I thought he would meet me there. I pulled into the gas station and see it’s closed. We were counting on this petro stop. We hadn’t fueled since El Centro.

Then I get a text from Shaun-out of gas.

I set about asking the locals for some tips. Turns out the closest place was 7 miles. Not bad. Just then a girl says,

“Hey, My Mom will help you-I’ll make her.”

Thus spoke the future Ms. Julian pageant queen, Amanda. I walked over to the scooter and called Shaun to let him know it would take a while, but we would be there with gas. Carrie screeches up. I ask if she is the one helping me. I get in the car and then we get out of the car and I follow her into the store and then we get back in the car and she got back out and went into the store again- I stayed put that time. Then, we were on our way. We were careening down a mountain, rather fast. Amanda was talking about her day at school. Just chit chat, as though I was someone they had known for awhile.

It was a rather entertaining situation and I felt bonded with them right away. This somehow seemed like a perfectly normal thing. I was in town 10 minutes before a total stranger offered to help. Everything in Julian and surrounding Julian shuts down at 9. They tell me this as we are on the way to get Shaun-it was 8:45. We have no food, no lodging. 60 miles of mountains were ahead and the temp was 50 degrees cooler than what we were accustomed to.

Carrie wanted to turn around and take me to the store, but I was pretty fixated on getting Shaun out of the remote area. We found him with an audience, met them and gassed up. I rode his scoot back, he’s not used to night riding and curves. On the way to get him a truck almost killed us. I was on the phone with Daphne, asking her to search hotels/campgrounds for us. Turns out the tourist trap priced hotels at $90 a night. Amanda overheard my conversation and asked her neighbor to house us.

After grabbing my scooter we went over to Blind Dave’s. It’s hard to believe he is blind, he moves remarkably well throughout his house. It was a humble trailer and he offered us everything in it. Including tootsie rolls. We ate tootsie rolls with him and he told us about his ramblin days and career as a singer. Carrie popped over with a pizza. Then came back with provisions, water, Sprite and sweatshirts for Shaun. Shaun hadn’t anticipated colder weather than Tucson and had no long shirt.

Can you believe all this generosity? It was really cool to watch Shaun have a life defining moment. I told him today over breakfast that I first truly realized how to be good to others when I started traveling. To treat those you love with kindness is easy. To trust a stranger and to be compelled to help them, even if it means interrupting your own day,is a profound measure of compassion.

We slept very well and woke early, but couldn’t go anywhere. The fog was so heavy that the trees collected it and showered water on us when the wind blew. It made traveling the mountain impossible. About noon we set off, very content with our unexpected adventure.

The ride was incredible, with many curves winding through a burnt forest. There were no guard rails and the cliffs plummeted down about 500 feet.

We arrived in San Diego around 3 pm. Not sure what to do, we drove along the harbor. It began raining and we coughed up some cash for a hotel room. I have hosts here for the next two nights, and will attend some Peace events. I’m looking for somewhere to volunteer and I might have a lawn to mow into a Peace sign.

My host is with the Department of Peace chapter here in San Diego. It’s exciting to be back on the West Coast. Gas will be easier to get, but not cheaper!

Here is the completed Southern route:

Monday, June 2, 2008. Day 31
291 miles
High Temperature in Yuma: 106 F

Sunday night I fell face first into bed. Not inebriated, just mentally exhausted and my body felt like a noodle from the massage. My insurance guy called, Arizona time made it 6:30 am. Good guy, I use Fernet motorcycle insurance. He was answering my question about Mexico insurance. It was already decided that we wouldn’t go into Mexico, though, as Shaun has no passport and it just seemed too complicated in general.

I went back to sleep for an hour, and then jumped up to make some espresso-loving the machine that the Stirrat’s had! Shelby and Mike went off to work, after a big hug from Mike. Oh, and the photo shoot he requested in front of the Saguaro cactus-not sure why anyone would want a photo of me at 7:30am?!

The kids hung out with me as I packed up; they all signed the scoot. I really adore them and have great hope for our future if there are more great brains like those in the world. And hearts. They were really cool kids. The dog, Petey chased me down the street; he looked like he was having so much fun that I kept him going for a bit. With the neighbors shooting me looks, I corralled him on home, to his dismay.

By 9:30 I was at Scoot Over, waiting on Shaun to show. I think he had run into some last minute packing obstacles and finally showed up an hour late, looking nervous but excited. Shelby, rockstar that she is, had his Givi topcase on in 10 minutes. I forced some liquid electrolyte/vitamin mix on Shaun, as temperatures would reach triple digits that day and we would be riding in full gear. He said he felt fine and pumped from adrenalin but I told him that preventive care was necessary for long rides like this. You don’t wait until the minute that you feel like crap, you try to avoid it altogether.

I was worried about the weight of gear on his front rack. Heavy rack=loss of control. He let me adjust his gear and then we checked our air pressure and oil, took a bon voyage photo-and finally left Tucson. I had mulled for days over this route over to San Diego; particularly the first half to Yuma. I hate the interstate, and in the South West, people drive warp speed.

After checking many options and asking many people their opinion, I picked the above route. The plan was to do frontage road as much as possible along I-8. It’s funny how a situation can become blown out of proportion when mulled over in you head, and when the only thing you have to go on is other people’s perspective. I’ve struck an even balance between crucial and exaggerated advice.

Our jaunt to Ajo was 127 miles. This is where we planned to have lunch. Traffic was fast, but sparse. Wind was high, but nothing compared to what would lie ahead. We talked to a lady about our scooters. Turns out she too was from Virginia. The conversation was great, but hit a low note when she said people in those parts intentionally hit motorcyclists. See above paragraph. Once in Ajo, we leaned into the few curves that make up the town, perusing a selection of shabby storefronts for our lunch choice. Marcel’s was recommended. I ran inside, starved. Once food was ordered I went out to tighten the loose saddlebags and Bob pulled in. Bob Boozer to be exact. He was driving a Yamaha 4×4. Shaun tried to negotiate a trade, but we were only allowed a test drive. Bob then proceeded to rattle off some fancy one liners and cute stories.

Lunch packed away, we set out towards Gila Bend-by way of the Barry Goldwater Airforce Range. It was obvious we were close to the border. Mexican Insurance signs were everywhere (you have to get it to drive in Mexico). We met a fellow at the gas station who was crossing over the border. He claimed to be visiting a gated community an hour over the border. I bet that car was coming back with some extra packages. Nice guy though.

There was a checkpoint going into the range. I had been told I both could and couldn’t drive across the range. Well, you can. The guard only asked me one question; “How many miles per gallon?” I thought about saying something like, “Enough to avoid this war,” but thought that was cheeky. The wind was picking up, as was traffic. It was getting late in the day, and handling the scoot can be weary, but we still had 150 miles to go.

Once we hit Gila Bend, the wind was ridiculous. We were getting our rhythm as riders, and I told him to flash the lights if anything was uncomfortable. Shaun is a hoss, his scoot would hit 1,000 miles that day. Just today he rode his scoot in the rain for the first time and is still getting used to curves. Wind though doesn’t seem to bother him at all. The frontage road ended about 20 miles out. We had evaluated the traffic on the interstate to be pretty sparse, so we jumped on. It was fine, although the wind kept our speed down.

The wind was also eating up our gas, especially his. Shaun has no windscreen and is riding a 150cc to my 125cc, so it is interesting to compare stats. Gas has been consistently sparse in the SouthWest-although cheap in Arizona. We gassed up with the sun beginning its descent. There was really no where to stop before Yuma, so we pushed on. Another new thing for Shaun, driving at night. The frontage road appeared again, as Old 80. It ran through livestock, lettuce and date farms. Canals channel the Colorado River into this dry land. If you look at the satellite view of the area, this oasis is surrounded by a desert stretching in all directions.

The smell of livestock was pungent. At this point in the day we had ridden for 8 hours and were dusty, weary and sunburned. The last thing we wanted was this festering odor. I started thinking about a fact I read the other day. In regards to consumption and water-it takes 1860 gallons to grow a pound of beef. And there in the middle of the desert, a vast amount of this precious little bit of water goes towards fattening up livestock. Livestock that not everyone has enough money to buy, and that we don’t have to eat to be healthy. Of course, I believe in balance, so I’m suggesting cutting the beef out of the diet once, twice, three times a week/month. That’s a good place to start. It takes 19 gallons of water to grow an apple, just in case you were wondering.

Frontage road ended again and the Interstate took us up over some pretty fair mountains. Finally, the lights of a city were twinkling in the distance. Around 9pm we pulled into Yuma, AZ. The hotel clerk gave us a great discount after we told her about P.E.A.C.E SCOOT and then she proudly posed for this picture. Her tattoo says, “Make Love, Not War” I asked her what one does in Yuma when only there for 10 hours.

“Oh, there is nothing to do here except drink, do drugs and get pregnant.”

So I asked Sean to be careful. We unloaded the scoots and walked around Yuma to get our land legs back. Apparently they like to watch a lot of TV in Yuma. The little shop where we got our dinner had a total of 30 TV’s. ALL on!

I had a great rest, thankful that this stretch of the road was behind us. And thinking that the worst of it was over…..

I am behind on updates, but wanted to share this video with you. It was made in a flash. The filming when scooting was shot with my Canon powershots and turned out ok. I am driving with one hand though and filming-quite an accomplishment on the curves and in the wind. The wind was horrible, I was getting blown away when off the scoot.
Anyhow, enjoy, and I will update later!

I had hoped to sleep in late Sunday morning. Good fortune had provided me with a house to myself, espresso machine and dog included. Extreme charley horses woke me up early. I think they’ve been happening so much because of the new leg armor. They were the worst I’ve ever had. I woke up screaming, which in turn woke up the dog. He started barking and running around, in attempt to protect the house from attack. It gave me a much needed laugh.

I had a hard time falling back asleep. Then by 9am I started getting requests that I attend Beer Church. How could I refuse? I decided to hop on downtown to attend the Go Go Rilla Scooters Beer Church, at Che’s Lounge. Afterall, two calls, an email and a text later from Bald John-I would have felt rude to not go.

Bald John met me outside Che’s and walked me into a dim bar sanctuary, adorned with fantastic art and local barflies. A cold PBR was placed into my hand and those in the congregation welcomed me. Bald John made me feel comfortable right away, a characteristic the many fine people in Tucson share.

After talking for awhile, he told me that the Go Go Rillas wanted to offer me a massage at the spa where his lady works. After reading the blog, her and John decided this would be a kind thing to do. Indeed. We took a Church group photo and then John led me over to the spa. My masseuse David insisted that I stay to use the steam room and hot tub. He commented that my body was in horrible shape and that he wished our session had lasted longer. Without a doubt.

The Rillas are a great bunch of people. They all seemed interested in the ride and in helping to spread the word. They, like many people, told me they wish they had known in advance of my arrival. I too wish I had more time to reach out to scooterists, peace organizations, and volunteer organizations. They sent me on my way with some pretty styley matches-if you see me on the road, hit me up for some. Visit their website to see more photos of the day and to hear their catchy club song-I’ve had it in my head all day.

The days in Tucson went slowly; the desert seems to have its own time zone. Every time I checked the clock, it seemed to gain an hour. I am mesmerized by the desert landscape. I loved my host’s house, just enough land was scraped to put in a house. Low laying cacti surround the upward stretching Saguaros, while lizard, snakes, scorpions, bunnies and wolf spiders keep the landscape active.

However, the time passed just slowly enough to enjoy all the cool people I met. The Stirrat’s, my hosts, were such an enjoyable, smart, talented family. I really hope we stay in touch. The mechanic Ron who works for them, was so good to my scoot. Very few mechanics will open their shop up, but he wanted me to see everything he did. He made a list of all the work done; fixed some gaskets, changed the oil, tightened the loose valves, installed a new performance pipe and sent me off with two jets for the change in elevation. Very thoughtful guy. i was supposed to do some motocross with him on Sunday, but the unexpected massage kept me from that. Sorry Ron!

Somehow, suddenly it was Sunday night. I went for a brief sunset ride; somewhat dazed from the massage but driven to capture the catci at dusk.

The Stirrats and I spent the night around the kitchen table. They’re very sharp, entertaining folk. I was putting music on the new iPod and double checking my route across the West to Yuma. I had some phone conversations with Shaun, who asked on Friday if he could ride with me to San Fransisco. I had sent him off with a list of stuff to buy for survival purposes. I checked in to make sure he was still game for the big adventure.

And to make sure he could meet me at the shop by 9:30 am. Although he sounded hesitant about that part his excitement to go on the ride was obvious.

Man, this guy has some gusto! He only has 660 riding miles under his belt and wants to put 2,000+ on his new Buddy in just two weeks. That’s round trip included.

I packed up my bags and then sat outside for a bit. I chugged a ton of water while doing so because I just can’t seem to get hydrated in this climate. Despite the impossibility of good sleep this past week, an energy moved through me that I can only attribute to the desert. The saguaro cactus takes 75 years to grow an arm. Perhaps time moves slowly, but deliberately.

Thank you to everyone for the generous welcome into Tucson. Your city has caught my eye-I would consider a move there in the future.

Peace to you Pueblos!

The conundrum, thus far unanswered, is how to create the Peace sign, with pieces of the route rerouting me in such a way that creating Peace is impossible.

To continue the outer circle, I need to make this type of line.

That is the highway route. A highway that more than 5 people have asked me not to take. The non-interstate options yield this route, which cuts into the route I did last year, which would ruin the Peace symbol:

Early today, it seemed like a feasible idea to enter Mexico and head West. There is Highway 2 which runs right along the border. Although, I can’t find any info on it. The Mexico/U.S. Embassy website currently warns that travel in Mexico is dangerous due to narcotic trafficking violence. Apparently, I would need temporary insurance to drive in Mexico. This could be bought though. Then I would have to exchange money for pesos and drive off into what sounds like bandit country. I have conflicting thoughts about this.

1) Although this is meant to put Peace on the U.S. map, the new North America theme would still be fine. Our fates our all intertwined.
2) The Peace ride should be taken to places where there is suffering and violence, including them as a reminder that here, in and around our country, we face immediate problems.
3) That the Peace ride is pointless if I take a risk that could compromise my safety.

Now, for the ultimate irony in this conundrum:
That large grey area you see in the photo, the part blocking me from easy, direct passage, is the Barry Goldwater Air Force Range. Yes. They are testing missiles there.

This Southwest section of the Peace sign has been challenging. Extreme heat and winds. Border tensions. Insane speeds. Lack of fuel.

It has also been extremely rewarding. Incredible panoramic views. Interesting, genuine conversations with strangers. Sense of accomplishment with every hour. Deep meditations.

And to my surprise, an unexpected caravan of scooterists meeting me in Bisbee, to bring me into Tucson. That meant a 250 mile roundtrip for them. This was an extremely moving gesture. No riders have gone this distance and it absolutely made my day. 4 riders would complete the round trip-one scoot blew up, the other choked from fuel overfill.

I told each one of them that when I imagined this ride, it was to create community-and so it was significant to me that they came out in support P.E.A.C.E SCOOT. It was a pleasure to ride with all of them, they were very skilled. We dealt with many jerks and had some tense situations with cars cutting into our pack, narrowly avoiding some of the riders.

Mike and his wife run Scoot Over in Tucson. Every person who works there is top notch, I can’t say enough nice things about them. My scooter is in excellent shape now thanks to their mechanic Ron. The generosity of everyone here is astounding. I’m thankful for the generosity and well wishing coming in from everywhere. I feel an immense relief when offered this support.

I am house sitting for the family tonight; feeding the lizards, gerbil and Petey-the 2nd coolest dog ever. Mine being the first. I miss my home, my dog and my partner-I hope we stay strong through this distance. I have little time at the end of the day and sometimes I feel like a jerk for leaving to do this ride. It is nice to have this shelter right now, complete with an espresso machine and wonderful people.

A highlight of my day was visiting with Philip McCalebs brother, John. I had lunch with him and his wife Judy. Although Genuine is my main sponsor, I have yet to meet Philip. My decision to write only one letter for scooter sponsorship has turned out to be the best hunch ever. John and Judy are very kind and entertaining. We talked and ate lunch outside on their patio. It was an enjoyable two hours, never an awkward moment.

Their home is up in the foothills and overlooks the city. Around here the skyline is interrupted by large cacti extending long fingers upward and out. I have never seen anything like this.

Right before leaving, John told me he had been instructed by Philip to take me to buy an ipod! Yes, an iPod. I suppose Philip noticed my complaining these past few days. Mine broke the day I set out and I’ve somehow survived almost 4,000 miles, but have recently begun to crack without one.

Mike and his wife also gave me a gift today-a mesh riding jacket. I first refused, saying it felt selfish to accept it, because my hope is to raise money for others. They told me that I have to take care of myself in order to make this ride, and that I would need a mesh jacket in the conditions ahead. Thank you, thank you all who have made this first 24 hours in Tucson very amazing.

Tomorrow I have plans to attend a Peace meditation ceremony and then to ride motocross bikes with Ron. He’s a motocross competitor, but me-I’m riding on the slow track to get the hang of it.

I should have a definite route planned out West by tomorrow. Shaun has expressed an interest in riding with me to San Fransisco. He is a new rider, but very willing to take the adventure. I believe he is ready for what lies ahead, I’ve been completely honest about it. It is going to be so cool to have company for those 1,500 miles. I’m very excited to welcome a new rider to P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER! He has agreed to blog about his experience on this blog, so stay tuned for that!

I woke up in a rather nice hotel and went over to the lobby for breakfast. Having been offered a military discount, the place was affordable. Yes, there is some irony in this situation.

There were many perks. They grilled up a bunch of food for us for dinner, offered beverages and chips. Breakfast was a nice assortment of good coffee, eggs, oatmeal, fresh fruit and hashbrowns. I tucked aside some extra packets of oatmeal and grabbed some bananas. The charley horses have begun to set in again-this happens with long riding.

At the end of today’s ride I will have gone 1,000 miles in 4 days. This is more than I usually do, but more of a feat with the speeds I’ve been driving. The severe wind out here and high elevation has compromised my speed-50 is about all I can do.

Eating my breakfast yesterday, with the many service men/women, I realized there is a whole industry based on us not having Peace. That many of those I was having breakfast would not have a job if we had Peace in the world. This concept doesn’t just apply to Peace, think about logging, for example. There are paid loggers who could care less about the rate we destroy forests-because they feed their families with the money earned by destroying them.

I was contemplating this and reading the El Paso front page news and came across a blurb from a politician who echoed these thoughts. He was discussing the drug trafficking violence occurring around the border, near Juarez. He had spoken with some college graduates who had blown a lot of coke the night of their graduation. The example seemed a bit farfetched, I don’t know why these girls would divulge info about their escapades.

Nonetheless-he was pointing out that drug trafficking exists because of a need-there is a symbiotic relationship. Had those girls said, you know, I don’t want to do this coke because I realize how many people are dying around getting it here, well, that’s how you put a stop to the cycle. Being conscious of how your wants contribute to greater problems.

And this violence is occuring 5 minutes away from El Paso. I rode out of town and saw the sign for the pedestrian crossing into Juarez. I looked over to my left and actually saw the gates. This is the riding I’ve been nervous about, mainly because people contact me and say I should be nervous.When that happens enough, I question my own intuition-never a good thing.

But I’m a little psyched out. And it’s hot. And windy. God, so windy. I actually ran into a dust devil yesterday. The wind was 15 mph, SW, with some gusts about 30mph. But this dust devil shook my front tires, shook ’em, and I almost lost control. It was only about a 10 ft patch- really strange.

I was now in New Mexico and cruised down NM 9, a desolate road. Except for border patrol. Everywhere. Which actually made me feel safer. I was on an empty stretch when I spotted a van in my mirrors. He had on his right turn signal. That can be a sign to switch lanes sometimes, so the faster vehicle can pass. Or to pull over. Neither of which I can do, because it’s a one laner with no shoulder.

He goes to pass me and I think ok, he’s just flaky, doesn’t know left from right. Then he slows down in front of me. A little alarmed, I speed up to pass him, to avoid some situation of him slamming on the brakes. He starts waving to me and says to pull over. Ya right Buddy.

Sorry. My conscious really had to grapple with that. I want to help people in need, but I’m not stopping on this road. I’m in front of him for about half a mile, still debating whether or not I should go against my rule and stop to help him. Then I see a border patrol car, so I point to the van behind me. I turn to the van and point at the border patrol. I saw him pull over, and that was the last I saw of him.

I was on two roads most of the way yesterday. NM9 and AZ 80. The terrain on both was completely different, but they shared windy conditions, isolated stretches, absence of fueling stations. However, I didn’t run out of gas. They were positioned just close enough. Every 80 miles I filled up, whether or not on empty. The wind was killing my fuel economy and speed. I literally banged my helmet on the headset.

I drove 9 hours yesterday, top speed, 50. No ipod. It died the day the trip started. I was cranky, really cranky. Contemplating, for the first time ever, stopping. Just a fleeting thought. The desert was dry and harsh. I finally surrendered and began to focus on positive thoughts. It’s so funny how 30 minutes can seem like an eternity.

I spotted some strange rock sculptures. I’ve seen these before. The first time was the Blair Witch Project. The second time at the Omega Institute. Nothing in common there, folks. I only saw these along the border, on both sides. I have no idea if these are monuments to people who have crossed, or died crossing. Or just a hobby of someone who lives in the area.

A good hour after I had shifted my attitude, I saw a monument for Geronimo. The monument to his surrender. This made me think of how differently people interpret the word surrender. Some view it as a form of success derived from another persons failure; meanwhile psychologists and new agers encourage it as a way to master the ego.

The landscape had changed drastically. I could just imagine Native American tribes galloping through the hills on horseback. I could see where they would hide when in battle. There were flash flood warning signs everywhere and gullies. Stuff I’ve only read about in books before or seen in movies. Me and Audre felt pretty little within the scene. I wanted to be in the hills, galloping along on horseback.

I scooted past roads named “Ruff Ride” “Sock and Shoe” and “Windy.” I went through about 2 gallons of water, it was so dry and dusty. The elevation change was also dehydrating.

I rode into the West, the blazing sun beginning to set and burn my retinas. When I reached the border town of Douglas I rang up my couchsurfing hosts. 45 minutes later, the signs for Bisbee welcomed me.

Driving up, up, up and around the mountains, I see a huge hole in the ground. This was a copper mine. I will go visit in just a minute. It was getting to dark to take photos. The town reminds me of a European village. Bisbee has to be one of the neatest places I’ve visited in America. My hosts, Mo and Paxton are great. They too are self confessed food, beer and music snobs. We talked for hours and played vinyl records.

They just moved in together this week and I’m their first guest. They cooked falafel from scratch and served it with pita bread that they had also made. Amazing. I was exhausted, crossing my 2nd time zone in a day. I’m off to explore just a little before Mike and Ron meet me here in town. They are driving in from Tucson to ride back with me. I will be there for the weekend.

Peace!