Today I finally defeated an old enemy I feared would come to haunt me on the Southern Tier. When we rode the TransAm through Oregon five years ago I began to suffer heat exhaustion in the scorching weather we were experiencing. It was so hot the state was on fire – quite literally. At one point I laid down by the side of the road, unable to bring my temperature down. In the end we had to ride very early the morning, rest in a bar or cafe for the afternoon and then continue cycling in the cool of the evening.
The problem with the Southern Tier is there is often nowhere to sit out the middle of the day and out in the desert there is very little, or no, shade. Today temperatures were up in the high 90s hitting 98 degrees at one point and we were climbing as soon as we left Jakes Corner. It was such a long slow climb that at times gave the optical illusion it was going downhill. “Just stop pedalling – you’ll soon realise we are going up,” wise old Terry explained.
Fortunately we weren’t still carrying the tins of beans left over from the night before. Terry had offered them to Abraham, who came out with his four dogs to say goodbye, but with no meat content he wasn’t interested – or maybe that was Patch talking, still smarting that he hadn’t got a taste ‘thigh de Englishman’ before we left. Fortunately the store assistant took the beans instead, in exchange for a couple of coffees.
The next 50 miles or so were absolutely stunning, with Arizona pulling out all the stops for us. The scenary was dramatic, the road breathtakingly steep – and did I mention that it was heart-stoppingly hot?
That first climb seemed to go on forever, but it wasn’t the last. We did three really big climbs today, one right over a pass and so terrifying uphill I gasped when I first saw it. “Really? Are you absolutely sure this is the right road?” I asked Terry, while looking skywards, already knowing what the answer would be.
“We refuelled on bagels and peanut butter and rewarded ourselves with a spectacular descent through forests of saguaro”.
So we ploughed on, with me meeting Terry at the top before we refuelled on bagels and peanut butter and rewarded ourselves with a spectacular descent through forests of saguaro.
There were peaks all around us: Pine Butte, 6,408ft, Boulder Mountain 6,293, Mine Mountain 5,168. Spectacular, but scary. By the afternoon the temperatures were rising steadily and we were rapidly running out of water.
At one point I squeezed my helmet against my head and a waterfall of sweat poured out. We were at serious risk of becoming dehydrated but there was no-where to fill up our bottles.
Terry approached an old RV parked by the roadside and the woman inside, who had a face which would sink a thousand ships, begrudgingly handed over two small bottles with not the hint of a smile.
A few miles down the road they drove past us without even an acknowledgement. But in those conditions the ice-cold water was a life-saver, although it was gone far too quickly.
There was one final climb to go and I could already feel the heat beginning to get to me. We took shelter in the only shade around – under a road sign – and cooled a few degrees.
“Apart from suggesting there might be some water at the top he was no help at all”.
Judging by the severity of the previous climbs I was very worried I’d run out of water too soon. I spoke to a sherif standing by his 4×4 but apart from suggesting there might be some water at the top of the climb he was no help at all.
Eventually we had no choice but to set off, with the mercury rising with every passing minute. I worked out how much water I could drink on the way up and set about rationing it as we began to climb up the Usery Pass, the scenic route across the Usery Mountain Regional Park to Apache Junction.
“I noticed my hands were shaking as I tried to put on the lid of my water bottle”.
It wasn’t particularly high, at 2,115ft, but the gradient and temperature made it a major obstacle. For the first time on the road I was concerned that the heat may be getting the better of me. I felt exhausted from breathing in hot air and I noticed my hands were shaking as I tried to put on the lid of my water bottle.
Concerned I was keeping Terry in the heat for longer than necessary I told him to go ahead. I decided my best course of action was to try and keep my breathing as regular as possible, cycle at a pace which reduced the sweating and stop to drink water in the very little shade that was available.
That often meant standing in the tall pencil like shadow of a sagauro, making sure to keep my arms well in. It wasn’t quick and it wasn’t pretty, but, much sooner than expected, I got to the top and found Terry.
The descent took us out of the natural desert and through an area of densely planted, but beautiful, cacti of every shape and form, many in flower. We then began to ride through a much more affluent area with the centre aisle of the road and verges immaculately planted with yet more cacti.
When we got to the first garage we stopped, desperate for a drink, and bought 24oz cartons of cherry coke and drank and drank until we could drink no more. We you need sugar you just can’t beat fizz.
Liquid levels restored and as our heads stopped thumping, we ventured back out into the 30°+ heat and headed for Apache Junction (we’d been warned that it is the crystal meth capital of Arizona, but hey, we’ve almost given up reading reviews. They’ll be saying Kabul is dodgy next).
“They were undertaking a similar journey to us, albeit propelled by a big engine rather than skinny legs”.
Our campsite for the night was a KOA (Kamp of America) Apache Junction, about 30 miles from downtown Phoenix which meant us going off route for around six miles to get there.
So I punched it into google maps and we dashed through the flat suburban roads, checked in and headed to the tent zone for a plot between a young family and two motorcyclists, one on a KTM and the other on an Harley. They were undertaking a similar journey to us, albeit propelled by a big engine rather than skinny legs.
The loan of a mallet by the camp host ensured we could get our pegs into the gravel base, then we cooked up ramen, showered and sat by the pool writing up our diaries.
There were so many views today that took our breath away:
It had been an incredibly hard day, possibly said Terry his hardest 50 miles on a bike ever. At times it seemed the bike computers were barely clicking over, despite all the effort and energy we were expending. We’d ridden 64.72 miles and climbed 4,393ft in temperatures which averaged 95.1F. All in all, as Terry so aptly put it: “a bit of a day!”
Total miles: 64.72
Total miles since Anastasia State Park: 2,603.40
