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Adventures … but strange things are happening

There’s always another adventure just around the corner, and this trip, to date, has been no exception.

I arrived in Phoenix, Arizona, Thursday morning, July 17.    Joe was picking me up at the airport and he’d said if I didn’t have too much luggage he could do it on the bike.  I made sure I brought only camera gear, my computer, my phone, medications and make up.  It did not take up much room. 

As I wandered to baggage claim, I was texting Joe to find out where he was.  I was just finishing up and I looked out the window and there he was parked next to the curb, the big silver and copper-toned Ultra Limited motorcycle, my ride and my chauffer awaiting my arrival.  Too cool.

It's nice to be picked up in style.

We loaded my stuff, then I loaded my butt onto the bike and off we went.  What a glorious day to ride, even on the back.  We headed home to drop my things off, pick up my bike and go do some shopping, including getting Systane eye drops.  Later I found out I didn’t really need them as I already had two bottles in my belongings at their house.  Oh well, I can always use them.  (Of course, I lost that bottle for a while, too.)

Later at the house we awaited Verlie’s arrival (from work).  Their plan was to leave in their motor coach the following evening after she got off work as they were going to Colorado to visit her mom, then to a family reunion in Oregon.  Part of the reason to leave at night was so the bus wouldn’t have to work so hard to go up the hills like it would during the heat of the day.  That evening we loaded some, did a bit of cleaning up and readied ourselves as best we could for the following day.  My plan was to follow them to Payson, or wherever they chose to spend the night, stay the night in the coach with them, and then head to Sun City on Saturday to visit with the Peeps for the weekend.

We be loading and getting ready to rock and roll.

On Friday Joe was busy loading things into the motor coach, I helped him wash it, and when Verlie got home we did some last minute loading.  We were quite the caravan … the 45-foot-long, 45,000-pound coach (loaded) pulling a loaded 4,500-pound pickup truck and me following on the bike. 

Washy, washy.

If I don't look while I'm rinsing then if I get Joe he can't complain to me, right?  Sorry, didn't see you  Ha ha.

 

The pickup adds something to the caravan effect.

I'm loaded up and ready to get on the road.

Out of town we went, leaving maybe 8 p.m. or so.  I followed behind, sometimes close, sometimes not so.  Once we hit Highway 87, it was pretty nice, no stoplights.  But when we hit the hills, I finally reached my point of having to pass them.  They were running about 30 mph, so naturally, with it being a good road with nice easy sweeping turns, I needed to get by and ride, even if it was night time.  There wasn’t much traffic so it was great, and I kind of wasn’t fearing animals too much, but I was very aware that I needed to be watchful. 

At one point I pulled over to wait for them to come up the hill.  They didn’t come, they didn’t come, they didn’t come.  It was dark with no traffic and I could see a long ways, but there weren’t many lights.  A vehicle passed me and pulled over to the side of the road in front of me, maybe 10 car lengths away.  No one got out, no one backed it up, no one hollered out of it.  Time for my left turn signal and an entrance back onto the road.  I didn’t like that. 

I ran slow, and when cars came up behind me I’d use my flashers to make sure they saw me.  Still no motor coach or Joe and Verlie.  Wow, that honking big thing is sure slow.

A car was pulled over to the side of the road with a guy out by it … and he hollered “broke down” as I went by.  Hey, sorry, I don’t know you and I’m not stopping.  I’m not mechanical so it’s not like I could help anyway … and I’m highly suspicious of things like that.  I kept on going as I’d decided to get into Payson and call them to find out where they were.  A car went by (the same one broke down by the side of the road).  A guy was hanging out of the window and he said, “Your friends in the RV are broke down back there.”  Oh.

I stopped and they stopped.  They told me Joe and Verlie were broken down about Mile 217.  I was at about 230 or so.  I went down the road looking for a place I felt safe so I could pull over and call them.  I found it … some buildings, businesses.  So I pulled into the parking lot and pulled around facing out.

Verlie answered the phone and told me what had happened.  The bus overheated, and went black.  Nothing was on, no lights, no flashers, no power steering.  Joe was able to get the coach pulled over toward the side of the road but the back end of the pickup was in the other lane … no flashers and people whizzing by narrowly missing the vehicles and hollering at them horrible things and telling them to get the vehicle off the road, like they’d intended to park in the middle of the highway?  Good grief!!!

A man in a vehicle stopped behind Joe and Verlie’s vehicles and put on his flashers.  From what I heard he was wanting people hollering at them to come back so he could kick their a$$es.  That’s kind of funny.  NOW!!

Verlie and I decided I’d go on to the Walmart in Payson and wait in the parking lot as that was where they would try to get.  I wandered in to Walmart and got a few things, and sat on my bike outside.  It’s quite friendly with a community of motor homes gathered there.  I got to meet a Harlequin Great Dane named Hercules who had ears nearly as soft as a Beagle’s and a man and his son who ride.  So it was not bad and actually entertaining, and the bus pulled in probably an hour after I’d gotten there. 

I got on my bike and over to the coach and we hugged and were glad everyone had made it safely although they’d had to stop several times coming up the hills to add water and let the engine cool off.  Joe said he was glad I’d not been there when the bus broke down as they’d both thought someone would hit their vehicles and they’d be killed.  What a night.  We finally got to bed, but it had been quite an adventure with a lot of excitement … and it wasn’t a good kind, only the kind that stresses you out.

Joe is a mere fraction of himself.  He's been bicycling 30 miles a day.  Wow.

Their Yorkie, Jazzy.  She's a sweet baby.

 

Perked coffee, yum.

The motor coach kitchen, one side, complete with decorative flowers.

On Saturday morning we got up and I eventually headed back down Highway 87 to go to the Peeps (Judi and Ken) in Sun City. 

Packing up ... goodbye Walmart parking lot.

It was a great ride going down through the big curves in the day time.  But I had to stop at Joe and Verlie’s because I’d gotten up and remembered I’d forgotten to bring a jacket and I’d probably need it going to Minnesota.  Crap.  I picked it up, and then remembered I hadn’t put on any sunscreen.  Too late.  Burned.  And I’d forgotten my Spot Tracker that is in the house.  I can’t get to it.  Guess I’ll just have to post on Facebook.

I got to the Peeps about 2 p.m. and spent a couple of nice and relaxing days.  We had some wonderful meals (including at the Cheesecake Factory, wish we had one), and had Auntie Lavon with us.  We played cards, a game that Ken beats us at every time, and I slept in. 

Mama and baby quail ... they're so cute.

Hummingbirds are always around sipping from the fountain.

We watched hummingbirds and quail and their babies and other birds.  And Judi and I talked for hours on Sunday, never getting dressed until late-afternoon.  Yahoo.  But then it was time to get on the road again.

Catching up before starting the next great adventure

There were a few more days left on the March/April trip.  It’s hard to finish one when you know you’re embarking on another but it’s time.

Any day is a good day to see Snoopy and Spike.  Wikieup, Arizona.

On Wednesday (March 26) Jaz and I rode up to Kingman, Arizona, meet Dewey, Chuck and Jaz’s friend Karl.  We encountered some big rolling tumbleweeds, and ended up packing a bit more on the bikes than we’d expected. 

Tumbleweeds 'r' us.

We met up and had to hit the local Harley shop, of course.  But when on a Harley, you have a tendency to stop at the shops.  I know there’s always a clean bathroom and a shirt waiting with my name on it.  We made our visit and headed to Karl’s to spend the night.  What a great day as usual; it’s always a good one when you meet up with old friends, and make new.  And the weather is perfect riding at this time of year.

On Thursday morning (March 27), after coffee of course, Karl played tour guide and we rode around Lake Havasu to see the London Bridge. 

Perfect weather for a visit to London Bridge.

And we're always ready to pose for a photo.

The day’s ride continued to Oatman to take a look around the little tourist town and see all the donkeys.  They run free, and there’s a great gimmick for feeding them … let the tourists buy alfalfa cubes and feed them.  Of course, I was right on that. 

And Karl is falling in line, buying cubes.  Hey dude, a donkey could starve here.  Hurry up.

What about me?

Psssst.  Buy us food.  Buy us food.  Hey, you listening?

And someone will ... Karl, Karl, feed me.

 

Hey, buddy.  You got anymore in there? 

Haha, ya'll are goofy.  We're so cute you just have to feed us.  But thank, you.

The donkeys are loads of fun to feed, and they follow you, and sometimes get a little pushy.  I didn’t have my hand just right and one, in his eagerness, nipped me. 

Bad donkey. 

I tried to parcel it out evenly, but they don't believe in that.

 

Hey, lady.  You got something for me?

There was a baby who is still feeding from mom, so we weren’t to feed it.  It was a cutie, and had a sign on its head saying don’t feed.

Yep, I got the sign.  Don't feed me.  But I'm so cute. 

An ya'll come back now, ya hear???

Nuff said.

One of Dewey’s “must see’s” was the Hoover Dam, so off we went, over the bridge and down to parking.  We walked across the dam, and as always, it’s a photo opportunity waiting to happen.

It's always a wonder to see huge, man-made things 

Bigger, better.  Hoover Dam rocks.  I've seen it multiple times but it always amazes.

I love this bridge.

It's a long way down.

I think Dewey likes visiting the U.S. 

There's a lot of water there.

 

As long as we were so close, Dewey said he’d kick himself if he didn’t get to Las Vegas.  So we separated from Karl as he had to get home, got rooms in Boulder City (where Jaz and I’d stayed before), dropped our gear and headed to Vegas. 

Fremont Street is always rocking.

And the shows are always fascinating to watch.

And there's always something interesting to see.

Yep, we're in the West.

We just came into the Strip at dusk so the lights were brilliant, twinkling, lighting up the sky.  Dewey’s head was like something out of the movie, “The Exorist.”  His head was spinning round and round trying to take in everything he was seeing.  It was worth fighting Las Vegas traffic just to see Dewey’s reaction and to see him find his “angels.”

Dewey's Angels.

Or maybe they should change to little devil outfits?

Then it was time for more separation.  On Friday, Jaz headed back to the San Francisco area and I rode with the boys back toward Phoenix, and north of there for them.  It was a great ride and I found my way back to Joe and Verlie’s.  It was going to be the end of my trip now, and I was saddened yet excited to be heading home.

My plans were to go home on Monday as I like to spend a weekend with Verlie.  We gathered and squeezed oranges for juice and I was drinking it until I thought my eyes would turn orange.  It was just so good and we don’t get that at home.  I couldn’t seem to get enough and was drinking huge pitchers of it each day.

Orange juice ... yum.

Then Monday arrived and off to the airport we went.  It was not a good day to be flying out if you were riding passes.  I spoke with Hobbs and he said Wednesday would be better.  A reprieve.  Verlie came and got me, and I got hold of my riding buddies.  Hey, Dewey, wanna go ride Tuesday?  I’ve got an extra day.  Woo hoo. 

And look who we hooked up with ... the Hoka Hey Cowboy.  Yahoo.  It's always a pleasure to see and ride with Mac.  And that's all I can say about that.

And ride we did, towards Globe and the mountains which is one of my favorite rides.  But all too soon it was over and on Wednesday I really did head home, and made my final approach into Anchorage.  But now, it was April and riding time at home … Home … where the Beagles roam … all is good in my world. 

Stay tuned for my next adventure.

It's all in the ruins ... at Casa Grande

Arizona is full of things to see, but I don’t usually linger when I’m here because it’s always in July or August, the hottest time of the year.  I melt and want to get out and back in to Phoenix as quickly as possible. 

This year has been way different.  Jaz and I were riding in March, which is mostly perfect T-shirt-riding weather, although we had times we had to wear jackets, too, and thought that 70-degree weather was freezing.  How quickly we become accustomed to the warmer weather.  I’ve been loving it.  I digress.

Anyway, there’s a place called Casa Grande Ruins, which I found on Arizona Roadside Attractions.  It’s amazing what you can find to go see on that site … coon hound grave yards, world’s biggest barbecue, to name a couple, and much of it is free. 

We were headed there, but also passed another piece of history … the Tom Mix Memorial, a black iron silhouette of a riderless bronco (Tony the Wonder Horse) that marks the site of his death.  The metal art was made by inmates at the Florence State Penitentiary and has had to be replaced at least three times as folks keep stealing it.  Tom Mix, and his wonder horse, Tony, were legends of that old western era that I love to read about and see. 

Words on the memorial.

Four-legged steed, iron steed.

Mix was a cowboy, the good guy, of course, mostly before movies became talkies.  He appeared in 300-370 movies, mostly westerns between 1909 and 1935 (all but nine were silent movies) and made as much as $10,000-15,000 a week, a lot of money for those days.  Mix may have worked as a cowboy, served as a soldier and been a Texas Ranger, so he could have been the real McCoy.  (There are opposing views on whether all of that is true, but it sounds good so I’ll use it.) However, once the talkies started being made he really didn’t do much after that. 

This was the auto that led to his death

A news account of what happened is posted on the memorial.

On Oct. 12, 1940, Mix was driving his custom-built, single-seat 812-supercharged Cord Phaeton roadster along a straight desert road, about 17 miles south of Florence, Arizona, where he had a ranch.  The bridge was out in a shallow gully, and under construction, when he apparently ignored or didn’t see and ran through construction signs and crashed.  Supposedly he walked away from the wreck but a heavy, unsecured suitcase on the rear shelf in the car fell and hit him, breaking his neck.  It’s a sad story.  He was a legend, and it’s always hard to lose someone to a tragedy like that. 

Tom Mix was a man of legends and many movies.

This photo of Mix and Tony is also attached to the memorial.

The memorial has photos of him and Tony and copies of the final news story about the crash.  The “suitcase of death” is preserved at the Tom Mix Museum in Dewey, Oklahoma, along with a life-size replica of Tony the Wonder Horse.  Mix was born Jan. 6, 1880, in Pennsylvania, and died Oct. 12, 1940, at the age of 60.  His horse, Tony, lived two years to the day past Mix’s death, when he had to be put down at the old age of 37 or 42, depending on whose account you read.  Either way, Tony lived a long life and a good one as a star, and a retiree. 

The Casa Grande Ruins were a find, though, unknown to me and a national park to boot so I got to use my Senior Park Pass again.  Even better, they weren’t too far from our final destination for the day, Sun City and the Peeps, other dear friends that I’ve known for more than 30 years.

I couldn't pass up a shot of another saguaro.

Casa Grande means “great house,” which is the name given to the ruins by early Spanish explorers.  By modern standards these ruins may not seem large, but at the time they were great.  The Great House is four stories high and 60 feet long.  This is the largest known structure of the Ancestral People of the Sonoran Desert. 

An old photo prior to the canopy.

The house is built of caliche, a concrete-like mix of sand, clay and calcium carbonate (limestone).  It took 3,000 tons to build the Great House and it has four-foot-thick walls at the base that taper toward the top.  Trees that were carried or floated 60 miles down the Gila River are anchored in the wall and timbers formed ceiling or floor supports.
 

The walls face the four cardinal points of the compass and a circular hole in the upper west wall aligns with the setting sun at the summer solstice.  Other openings align with the sun and moon at specific times. 

You can see one of the openings to the top left.

In 1932 a steel and concrete canopy was built to protect the Great House.  There are also other remains of an ancient Hohokam-era farming village.  Hohokam is a name incorrectly translated from the ancestors called Huhugham.  But today Hohokam is a term used by archeologists to define a cultural period.

The canopy costs more to maintain now per year than the original $28,000 cost of construction.

The origins of these people lay with hunter-gatherers who lived in Arizona for several thousand years.  The people also grew food and developed an irrigation canal system diverting water from the Salt and Gila rivers.  Like the Panama Canal system, the hydro system developed for Scotty’s Castle in Death Valley and this irrigation system, it’s incredible how smart people were and how they developed things to make their living easier, or just living in general.  It’s been a great trip, seeing, experiencing, learning.

Then we were hightailing it to the Peeps, Ken and Judi, where we spent a couple of nights.  We went to a spring training baseball game between the White Sox and the Mariners.  The final score was 7-6, Sox.

A few days relaxing, and me getting the compensator (and a whole lot of other parts) replaced (and thank you, extended warranty), and we were back on the road, heading to Kingman, Arizona, to meet Karl, Jaz’s friend from Lake Havasu, and Chuck from Alaska and Dewey from Yukon.

The nice thing about no real schedule is just that … you can do what you want.  We met up with the boys and decided to spend the night with Karl.  Dining in was just the thing with pizza and ice cream, two of my favorite foods.  We had such a nice, comfortable visit sitting out in Karl’s Arizona room, or patio, or whatever you call it.  I got cold, and he handed me a blanket.  It must have gotten down into the 70s.  Brrrrrr.