My biking Haj

Day 43 to 45 - Flagstaff to Moab and back
Approx. 750 miles in the car to do 12 miles on the bike over 4 hours
Apologies for the infrequent blogging but the past three days have been all about me being on a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to go anticlockwise round a lump of sacred rock along with fellow believers. My trip to the holy land of mountain biking that is The Slickrock Trail at Moab, Utah has been completed, and I am a believer.

With my new machine being prepared I picked myself up a hire car and set off northwards (not east) with a long trip ahead but a very definite purpose to reach my destination. However, it wasn't all about arriving though, as I would be travelling through numerous sights along the way including the legendary Monument Valley.

The 170 miles up to the Valley went through a chillingly harsh, hot and desolate desert landscape in which the most notable event was being stopped by the locally sheriff - I honestly didn't see the sign! He either believed me or didn't want the trouble of filling out a ticket for someone from out the country so I proceeded on until I caught my first sight in the distance of the towering monoliths of rock. It really is a weird, weird place. At least with the Grand Canyon it's possible to fathom an explanation for how it formed, but this place just doesn't seem to make sense neither geologically nor gravitationally. Still, as impressive as it was, I must admit that it was one of those sights of which I've probably seen far too many perfect pictures in glossy tourist magazines, and in guides, and on TV for it to really have that much of an impact. So I pressed on, ever so slightly disappointed.

The next 170ish miles to Moab were far from disappointing, though, as the route passed through and around unexpected geological gem after geological gem from the sublime beauty of the Natural Bridges National Park to the wonderfully ridiculous stone that is Mexican Hat to the downright insanity that is the gravel hairpin climb on Highway 261 somehow taking the road up the seemingly sheer cliff to look down on the Valley of the Gods. Now there's a place to be.

I think that having been brought up in Scotland I'm so used to scenery being rounded and smoothed by millenia of wind, rain and ice that, as a result the huge, dry, angular rocks around here are such a contrast to what I'm used to I find them fascinating.

I finally arrived in Moab seeking out a motel located directly across the road from both the bike shop and the microbrewery. An above average motel but absolutely perfect place.

The next morning I set off with hired bike to grace the hallowed ground where I proceeded to get all of 15 yards down the trail before being dumped unceremoniously off the back of the bike on the first sharp climb. Not the graceful beginning I was hoping for. Still, I didn't care, I was grinning like a fool and didn't stop doing so all the way round in the 95F heat with the sun glaring off the pink rocks.

The track itself is a twisting, undulating roller coaster along unfeasibly grippy rock causing the unclimbable not to be so and rendering slopes ridable that would normally send you down sideways straight to the bottom. And in this place the bottom can be several tens of feet below. 'Experienced riders' only it says on the sign, and rightly so. The route is marked out with road-like white dashes on the rock which you might be able to make out on the pic. If there's a bigger high you can get from chasing white lines then I don't know it. So, is it the best mountain bike track I've ever been on? In all honesty probably not, Glentress and the Corrieyairack Pass both beat it in my book, but this place is about so much more than just the quality of the trail. It's about a magazine article I read over 15 years ago announcing this place to the world and knowing then I wanted to ride it someday. After all, is St Andrews the best golf course ever? Or is Monaco the best Grand Prix track? They're probably not but is there anywhere else you'd rather drive or drive.

On the route back I took a rather long detour to stop in at the Four Corners monument, the only place in the US where the borders of four states meet (and yes, I did check on a map cause I didn't believe it either). Then, having been not entirely blown away by Monument Valley on the way up I decided to give it another chance so set off in the hope of seeing it in the sunset. As I approached Mexican Hat I noticed that the cloud low on the horizon to the south was not a type or colour I've seen before. As I drove further towards it I hoped and then realised what it was, it was a duststorm, heading my way. Then just as I realised the near-setting sun emerged from below the low cloud spectacularly illuminating the approaching wall of sand. I practically crashed the car off the side of the road such was my desire to get out and watch the event unfolding and I stood transfixed in my socks and cycling gear. Who knows what the locals must have thought. As the combination of dust and darkness engulfed the Monuments I sped down the road to home for the night which saw me settle down on a campsite in the middle of The Valley to be awoken this morning by the eerie yet enchanting howls and barks of the village dogs echoing endlessly off the towering cliff walls. I left the Valley for a second time, though this time with not a grain of disappointment.

Looking to tomorrow, I've just picked up the new machine and all looks well for now though I'm not entirely convinced the wheels will survive with what I'm about to put them through.

Here's hoping though.

Plan B

Day 42 - I have a cunning plan

With my mother leaving to head up to Monument Valley it was a day of looking round bike shops for me. Everyone I spoke to was more than a touch shocked that I'd managed to break the frame, especially a Cannondale. Alas all were agreed that it's toast so it was a case of new bike which I think I've managed to source from Absolute Bikes here in Flagstaff. Rather than rush the guys to get the bike ready quickly I've decided to hired a car up to Moab to go cycling there, coming back down to Flagstaff to set off on Wednesday.

In the meantime, this break has given me a spare moment to actually get round to replying to all the many messages that I've been very grateful to receive over the past few weeks. They've all been much appreciated.

Angus - thanks again for all your help at the start in Seattle. Was that really only six weeks ago?
Brent - you'd have loved this trip as there's an awful lot of fascinating bird life to be seen on it. All ornithological, of course!
Clarky - get that machine in your hallway dusted off and out on the streets then we can set up a VJ Capital bike racing team once I'm back sponsored by the profits of the various VJC enterprises.
Col - I'm thinking I might consider cycling to the Hearts European matches given third place is secured. Happy days.
Dave H - yeah, Dave, you hear that, European football trips. Still, guess you can console yourself with the fact I'm buying you several kegs of beer given your team's promotion into some lower league.
Dave L - this new bike I'm getting has strange things called drop bars. Am I in danger of turning to the dark side of cycling?
Donna - just on from your comment about the headwind on the way the Everest base camp. Did you hear anything about a guy called Goran Kropp and his Himalayan adventure when you were there by any chance? That guy surely had the best (and toughest) cycling expedition ever having cycled from Sweden to Everest Base camp with, if I remember right, about 100kg of bike+kit. He then proceeded to climb Everest solo. Leaves me feeling like a complete amateur.
Grahame - just one request, please, no more puns.
Grant - real shame you couldn't make it over here. You'll need to head over sometime in the future for some hiking in the Canyon
Inzer - you did ask what I think about on the bike for 8-12 hours a day. Pretty simple really, for the first half it was about 'what's hurting the most? And how do I move to ease the pain?' while lately it's been a mixture of 'how do I stay awake', and 'just how much hotter is it going to get?'. Three simple questions but they've probably kept me occupied for over half the miles.
James - believe me, for a few minutes your 'pack up the bike' suggestion was very tempting.
John & Joan - thanks for the message. It's a shame blogs weren't up and running when Lynn did her mammoth trip.
Kenny - I managed to see the HK sevens pics on Facebook. Congrats, you easily beat Clarky in terms of looking ridiculous.
Lynn - thanks very much for the sponsorship. I took your advice and took a trip to Pier 39 in San Fran - great food and a comical collection of sealions.
Pete - thanks for all the tips and advice in the early weeks. Was great to have a second opinion there to keep me in check. Hope you enjoyed your holiday. Now get yourself training for the Corrie!
Philippa - keep doing those laps on the Isle of Dogs route. Trust me cycling is more fun than working.
Sandra - I hope Grahame isn't causing too much trouble while the rest of us are away
Sloany - is VJ Capital Sports Betting running a book on me finishing this trip? If so what are the odds?
Sara - trust me, Highway 1 is a lot more painful on a bike than it looks to be in a car. I think you had the right idea.
Sarah - was nice to meet you at Treebones as well. Hope you're not rushing to get a job. And the Big Sur pics look great by the way.
Simon - any chance you can tell that lot next door to get a move on and initiate on the mid-caps? I've been long one co. for weeks awaiting them to come out with a buy rating on it.
Sue - hey don't knock it, Victoria Park is a start. By the way, you wouldn't believe how much time I've spent in the saddle wishing I was sitting in the beer garden of the Captain Kidd with a chilled ale.
Wayne & Stacey J - once again just to say I really appreciated you putting me up in Seattle. That easier and less stressful start to the whole trip has probably been the difference to me finishing one or two of the stages on the way here. Oh, and do you do deliveries for your Jack Daniels spaghetti? Please!
Wayne S - hope your coping with being out numbered by the Parkers once again.

I think and hope that's everyone but I'm really, really sorry if I missed you out (and there have been a few anonymous comments as well).

Thanks again
Fraser

Grand Canyon traffic jam

Day 41 - Automobile day
After yesterday's dash down and up the Canyon it's payback time today as my legs feel more painful today than they have anytime all trip. As a result I was grateful to be sitting in the passenger seat as my mother drove through various state parks on the way to Flagstaff where I hope to be able to rectify the lack of ridable bike situation.

In the meantime, here's a less scenic pic from yesterday's hike.

A river runs through it

All the posters, signs and guide leaflets are quite specific round here - "Do not attempt to hike down to the Colorado River and back in one day"

Err, oops!

With no bike to ride tomorrow, today didn't need to be a rest day. So, on the way back from having watched the sunrise over the Canyon I spotted a sign pointing to the start of the Bright Angel Trail - one of the infamous mule trails down from the rim. Now that looks like fun, I thought (well minus the mule). So I packed up some kit and set off for a long and hot reverse climb (descent first then climb out). The signs and posters were absolutely everywhere warning just how tough it can be down these trails, and to be fair, I can't really blame them as some of the shapes and sizes of folk I saw down there I'm certain wouldn't dream of climbing a hill the same elevation as they were descending (3,000ft) obviously only to then have to climb out in the afternoon heat. Rather than give myself a target place to get to I just decided to use the mountaineering favourite of setting a time at which I would turn back, wherever I was. In this case, having set out at 8am I chose 11.30. I set of at pace down the seemingly impossible trail zipping past the crowds until I hit traffic, Grand Canyon traffic, as I found myself staring at a mule's @rse, indeed nine of them for the next half hour on a track not wide enough to get past. Now this was not really the stunning views which I'd planned for the day! A hairy short cut at one of the hairpins got me (closely accompanied by a football-sized boulder) ahead of the train and I bound on down the remainder of the path, into the growing heat, continually marvelling at both the scenery (obviously) but also the trail as it snaked it's way down, around, under and even through the rock before it finally brought me down to the mighty Colorado at 11.10. A quick bit of lunch and bathing later and I set out bang on 11.30 on the 8 mile, 5,000+ft climb out. I knew it would be longer to get back up than the 3hrs 10mins it took me to get down (when I hadn't been hanging about, with the exception of the mules) and had assumed that, perhaps, five and a half hours would be reasonable. Well, It did take me longer than the descent, all of 5 mins longer. I really don't know how I did it. Maybe I have gotten quite fit.

As for the much more important bigger picture issue of not actually having a bike to ride on my Ride Across America, the plan is to head to either Flagstaff or Moab tomorrow to investigate the bike shop options in one of those towns and make a new plan from there.

Today, though, it was all about this astonishing place.

Nothing could prepare me for this...

Day 39, Stage 27 - Seligman to the Grand Canyon
109 miles in 10hrs 10 mins (incl. 2 punctures, three food stops and
ONE OTHER VERY NOTABLE DELAY, more of which below)
Total distance - 2,255 miles
The alarm got reset a number of times as I woke feeling even more exhausted than I had yesterday morning (and I'd felt pretty awful then). So, the prospect of 100+ miles with another 5,000ft of climbing up to around 7,000ft was pretty far from appealing. Still, the bike would be mercifully light today with my mum taking most of the kit and I had the not-inconsiderable carrot of a rest day at the Grand Canyon ahead. This was also likely to be a bit of an emotional destination for me as I remember my dad once saying to me many many years ago when I was a kid that it was the one place over all others that he really wanted to go to. I'd always remembered that and had said to myself that if I ever had the money I would treat him and my mum to a trip here. I now have the means, but all too late.

This morning's plan was to join Route 66 for the first 25 miles into Ash Fork but what I'd thought was a junction turned out to be an underpass so it was back onto the interstate for that stint (after yet another Subway stop, this one after only one mile). During this first few miles I pulled over for a drink on the climb out of Seligman and listened to drone of the endless stream of trucks passing by. Then as I stood there suddenly there was an almighty 'bang' as one of the big rigs had a F1-style engine blow up of spectacular proportions leaving a trail of smoke billowing across the highway through the early morning sky. I got back on my bike, rode past the stricken giant, looked down and my legs dancing on the pedals. 'Go on', I thought to myself, 'the 20 tons and 1000-or-so horsepower beast can't make it up here but I can'. My ego was suitably boosted and I felt awake for the day.

Stripped down to just the absolute minimum of kit the bike felt remarkably lively compared to the tank-like handling when fully laden. It was like jumping into a sports car having been driving a wallowing 4x4 for hundreds of miles. As such, I decided this would be known as my 'Lotus Day', given that company's reputation for making minimalist speed machines. It did cross my mind that perhaps this was tempting fate given the reputation of said brand - Lots Of Trouble Usually Serious. Still, I stuck with it.

The 800ft I'd climbed were then quickly given up (and a bit) in the run down to Ash Fork where I stopped in a garage to refuel ahead of the 2,000ft climb I knew was just ahead. Fed and watered I jumped back on the bike only to realise I had got my seemingly obligatory morning puncture (three in three days). Once fixed the climb beckoned and I set out on it knowing there was a slow 12-15 miles ahead. I switched the gps off at the bottom with it showing around 5,000ft as I really didn't want to know how much I still had to go and expected the 'Elevation 6,000ft' road sign to let me know I was halfway up. But after 12 miles of not particularly taxing climbing I hadn't seen it. I stopped and nervously switched the gps back on as I really feared what sort of a monster last few miles of climbing remained, but to my surprise and relief it showed I was only 100ft from the summit. And for once, it wasn't lying.

The signs then took me off the interstate pointing in the direction of the long, almost dead straight road to the canyon. Now you know that strange feeling you can get at the edge of a cliff or on the top of a hill where you're drawn towards it to look just that little bit further over. Well, as I looked up the road towards the horizon, despite being 60 miles away, I got that feeling. A feeling that there was something unbelievably vast up there, and it was pulling me in to look into it.

I resisted it's pull for a brief few minutes for another snack stop after 55 miles. Cue puncture number two. Yup, maybe 'Lotus Day' was a bad idea, I thought to myself. Still, two punctures is only inconvenient, not exactly 'Serious', I told myself.

The road continued straight on for a further 45 miles, about halfway through which I had made the mistake of mentally telling myself the stage was done for the day about two hours before I would likely finish. I switched into wind-down mode a bit too much and once stopped, it's extremely hard to get going again.

The cyclocomputer ticked on to show the fifth century in eight stages on the slope up to the entrance to the Canyon Park and I happily chatted to the ranger at the gate about my ride. And then, as I pulled away for the final short five mile stint towards the canyon, for the very first time all trip the enormity of what I'd done hit me. I'd actually ridden my bike here all the way from Seattle. Yeah, I know it's patently obvious to anyone following this blog that that's what I've done but, I've spent the past month in the saddle thinking only day-to-day, even just mile-by-mile at times. It always just been a plan on a bit of paper to me, a collection of stages, one adventure followed by another the next day. But it was only now that I could finally grasp it in it's entirety. It had been a long day at the end of the toughest leg of the trip by far. I was exhausted, emotional, and, for a brief moment, not ashamed to admit I was pleased to be wearing shades.

These final few miles went through smouldering forest during which time I happily saw my mum drive past en route to meet me at one of the lodges nearby.

My 'big picture' thoughts were, however, being distracted by an uneasy sense that all was not well with the bike. Surely not puncture number three, I thought. Or is it the spokes on the new (not LA new but Vegas new) real wheel coming loose? Gear cable stretched, perhaps? I just couldn't figure it out despite a number of stops to have a prod around; spokes? Check. Tyre pressure? Check. Gear cable? Check. Quick release, hub, gear mech, sprockets? All checked out ok. But every time I got back on the gears kept jumping and the wheel looked like it had a strange inconsistent wobble in it. I was totally foxed so I stopped yet again, a mile from the canyon edge and took the rear wheel out the frame...

...now I had said a few days ago that I got the feeling the bike was struggling, well I now discovered what that distinctive spoke-breaking-like twang of metal fatigue had been on Monday morning, and again twice this afternoon. At the exact moment I had been having a mini 'breakdown' myself the bike had decided to have a major, and I'm almost certain terminal one. The frame was snapped clean through the right lower chainstay.

Bummer, was my immediate thought. But within a matter of seconds, I surprised myself with how upbeat I was, considering. 'Could have happened at a much worse time and place'. 'Another challenge to overcome'. 'Could have hurt. Lots!' Though they weren't all positive - "Effing 'Lotus Day'". Still, I wasn't even close to despondent.

I still couldn't see the canyon from where I was so hung my helmet on the handlebars and pushed the bike along the final few hundred yards to the edge and just stood there utterly speechless.

Nothing can prepare you for the enormity of this place. Nothing. And I'm not even going to try to put it into any more words because they are just too crude a tool for here.

It was a further three miles of pushing through inquisitive groups of people, a number of whom wanted my picture - and how much of an ego boost do you think that is folk wanting a picture of you given the alternative thing to be snapped nearby! I finally found the lodge with my somewhat relieved poor mother standing outside.

Obviously plans are completely up in the air at the moment (beyond waking in three hours to watch the sunrise) but I've a number of options and I definitely intend to figure out some way to complete the quest. Still, it's been a memorable day in many ways, not least because today I've outlasted both a truck and my bike.

I'll show you a place, high on the desert plain...

Day 38, Stage 26 - Kingman to Seligman
78 miles in 7hrs 40mins (incl. 1 full tub of Pringles stop and yet another puncture
Total distance - 2,166 miles
I thought that yesterday had probably taken a lot out of me and, as I climbed the ramp onto the interstate at Kingman to set out this morning I realised I was wrong. It had taken more than a lot out of me. I felt empty; weak and exhausted. I stayed that way for the first hour-or-so, during which I felt my eyes closing with tiredness more than once. Which is really not a good thing while pedalling alongside passing trucks. I was seriously worried and even more so when, 18 miles in the road sign proudly advertised 56 miles to the next services. 56 miles I knew included a 1800ft climb. Having stuffed as much food into me as I could (including a whole tub of Pringles) I rolled, still half asleep, down the valley to the bottom of the climb.

And then came yet another puncture. I knew then that there was no chance I'd be able to make it the 70 miles further I'd planned for the day and wasn't even sure I could make it another 7 miles. To make it worse it was warming up again with the temperature already at 30C. Having fixed the puncture I got back on the bike and suddenly felt awake for the first time today and felt even better the more I climbed. The altitude also brought with it a drop in temperature down to a still-hot-but-survivable 27C. What was most striking though was the change in vegetation. It's a pretty basic rule of nature is it not that things are green and lush in the valleys and then as you go up, the plants and trees become smaller and more sparse? Not here it's not as the climb brought me from a land of small shrubs and dry orange soil onto the desert plains at 5,000ft, a place of trees and almost green fields. I even saw the first bit of naturally running water since leaving LA 500 miles ago. I suppose it makes sense given the temperature round here but it was just a bit of a (very pleasant) surprise just how much life there appears to be up here. However, one thing I couldn't make sense of on the climb were these rock/earth strata in the pic. and I found myself standing at the side of the side of the interstate for a good while trying to figure out a sequence of events to explain them. No idea though.

Then 7 miles outside Seligman the phone rang and it turned out that, by chance, my mum had just sat down for food in a cafe there. So I sped down the final few miles to meet her and I think she now realizes just why the topic of food is such a regular topic in my blog having seen how much I ate.

Another 100 mile day ahead tomorrow up to another geological (or should that be geographical?) wonder - the Grand Canyon. Can't wait. And to make it even better I've been able to put ninety percent of my kit in my mum's rental car as I'll be meeting her there at the end of the day. Not quite in the true spirit of touring cycling, I know, but makes for a pleasant, and hopefully fast, change.

Pretty, Dam, Big

Day 37, Stage 25 - Las Vegas to Kingman 108 miles in 12hrs 35 mins (incl 1 puncture and one very long lunch)
Total distance - 2,088 miles
The toughest day in the saddle so far. If the distance & time stats aren't bad enough then here's a few more; total climbing ~4,500ft, temp above 95 for most of the day, and worst of all a 20mph near direct headwind for about 60 miles.

I'd set my alarm for 5.30 with the plan to get as far down the road before it really warmed up and ahead of the headwind that was forecast to strengthen through the day. So at 7am I pushed the bike out the front doors of the New York New York hotel I'd been staying at and found it was already warm. This was going to be a tough day. Still, if all went well then I figured I could be finished just after 3pm. However, things didn't start well though as the front tyre was flat before I'd got out of Vegas (a city I'd definitely go back to). Having fixed this I continued on through Boulder City where I stocked up on another 4 inner tubes and the cyclocomputer went through 2,000 miles without me realizing. The road then wound down to the site of today's pic., the Hoover Dam. As impressive and iconic a structure it is, it was actually the incomplete new freeway bridge with it's vast unconnected arch suspended in mid air that blew me away (sorry, pics didn't turn out).

The climb out from the dam was a nervous, shoulder-less slog but once up I got my first taste of the views of the endless desert ridges and canyons in this part of the world. While the forests of giant redwoods made me feel like a three year old, this place made me fell like an insignificant ant, and one that was being scorched under a magnifying glass as it was near 35C by then.

50 miles in the road dropped into a sprawling plateau, heading straight into the strengthening, warming wind and my long, hot, painfully-slow grind of an afternoon-going-on-evening began and continued til just after sunset when I gratefully coasted down from Coyote Pass into Kingman.

Lots more I'd like to say about today but, sorry, I really must sleep, I'm afraid. Planning another century for tomorrow, but should hopefully have a tailwind to push me up the further 4,000ft of climbing.

Totally Exhausted.

Mother's Day pic

Mother's Day

Day 36 - another rest day in Vegas
Does a picture need to say a thousand words when a handful will do? And for those of you who don't know, that actually is my mum in today's pic :)

Setting out for a four day, or hopefully three day, leg down to the Grand Canyon a very early start tomorrow in an attempt to get out the city and as far down route to the Grand Canyon before it hits 100F again.

Oops, IT issue so pic to follow

There's no right angles in nature...

...nor are there any in a Vegas casino it would seem.

Day 35 - ...another rest day, but just done the 10 mile trip back from
the bike shop
Total distance - 1,981 miles

Today was another day with the thermometers into three figures leading the crowds, including myself, into the depths of the immense air conditioned warrens of the casino complexes. As vastly impressive as these places are, while strolling through them I have been asking myself just how many people are actually there cause they want to be and how many are looking for a way out? I had heard that these places are deliberately designed to keep you in them and I've got to say I'm massively impressed by the effort and design that has been put into keeping you in them as I thought I had a fairly reasonable sense of direction, but not in these places I don't it would seem. My theory is it's all about having no right angles in the floor plans, everything is either sweeping curves or 120-135 degree turns. As enormously effective as it is, though, I'm certain there's a thing or two (or more like two million), that the casino guys could learn from the chaps at the Garmin GPS.

Anyway, off out for dinner and this place is fairly near the top of the list of options. You've just gotta love the honesty of this town - it may not be good for you but boy is it fun.