I awoke to a spectacular morning of blue skies, cool temperatures and sunshine. I didn't have a chance to explore Tombstone since it was late when I arrived, and after 2 nine hour days days on the bike I was pooped. Since I hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, my plan had been to hit a restaurant downtown, but instead I spent the evening trying to get internet. GRRRRR. Stupid technology!
About 11pm, instead of a restaurant I dined at the motel’s "Vending Corral". The meal was only $1.50 and came in a plastic bag with "Lay's Potato Chips" emblazoned on the side. I washed it down with a cup full of tap water. Mmmm.
So, with my now disgruntled stomach, I ate a big breakfast to compensate before heading for the boardwalk in the tourist town Tombstone.
The tall Texan cast a long shadow as he walked slowly down the deserted street towards the OK Corral, the the stares of absolutely no one.
Arriving about 8 am, the old ghost town was, a ghost town. Actually, it was fun wandering around with no one there. About 9 a few locals began to arrive and set their tourist traps. I had a few conversations about the bike and generally hung out with my cup of coffee from the OK Restaurant.
I never realized cowboys had trinkets
I think we're both parallel
I didn't want to wait for the OK Corral to open and that was OK. I also decided that Tombstone is the only place in the world where it's ok to wear a full length waxed cotton duster and not look like an idiot. (Besides Australia?) So now all you guys with one in the closet that was bought in a weak moment and are too ashamed to wear it in public, now you know where to vacation.
The only other place I wanted to see was Boot Hill Cemetery, so I headed over where a sweet little old lady strong-armed me out of a $2 donation - which I gladly payed - and for which I received a tour map of all the graves. It was fun reading about all the different folks and how they were all either violently killed or gruesomely died. Actually, it was quite fascinating.
The Clanton gang's all here...
Including Pa...
The border road was calling my name, so I finally saddled up and rode out of town. Well, about 1/2 mile to the Circle K to gas up, and while there saw this:
From Tombstone, I took Charleston road to Sierra Vista, which turned out to be a nice curvy road and fun to ride, that is until I got stuck behind Granpa Cooter driving 35 mph in an old Grand Marquis, belching gas fumes and oil smoke so strong I couldn't breathe. Finally I got past him and zipped on towards Sierra Vista and the mountains beyond.
I stopped to take a shot of the observation balloon overhead:
Meanwhile, Granpa Cooter passed me again and I was stuck behind him all the way into town. Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh.
Sierra Vista was a modern town, replete with Lowe's, Best Buy, yada yada and possibly Prada, so I topped off again for the remote border road down south. Jumped on 92 south to the turn off for Coronado National Memorial and the Coronado National Forest, then wound my way into the foothills. Once again, the crystal skies, cool temps and beautiful scenery could not have been finer.
I stopped at the Visitor Center to ask about the route, carefully checking the parking lot for Coatimundi's first, and the Ranger inside was very helpful. She said the route was rough and only a "dirt bike" could make it. Also said the Border Patrol usage had really roughed up the switchbacks, so to be extra careful on the washboard in the turns. She told me I'd pass the National Monument to “Priest blah-blah-blah”, (sorry, I can't remember his name!), who was the first European to enter the area back in the 1500's. Let's just assume he was hangin' with Coronado since the forest is named after him. She said he was also famous (infamous?) for being the priest who told the King of Spain that there were 7 Golden Cities in America and launched the whole schmear.
She said "I call him Friar Liar." Well, I couldn't remember his real name, but I did remember that one.
But enough of history. Once again, having checked for Coati's, I downed a bottle of water and took the silver foil quilted jacket liner - aka the Disco Sweat Sack - from my jacket as it was beginning to warm up already.
The Duquesne - Lochiel road is remote and follows the border of Mexico, very closely in some areas, for about 60 miles to Nogales. It is an area heavily used by smugglers and illegals. The Ranger told me it would take 2-3 hours minimum to get to Nogales, depending on the road. I was pumped!
The pavement ended quickly and the switchbacks started almost immediately. They were heavily washboarded and a little rough and rutted from wheel bounce. The road headed quickly up the side of the mountain. The ride up required concentration on the heavy GS, but the ride, road and views were awesome. I had shut off the ABS on the pig before heading up and a good thing, as there was a lot of loose gravel and the drops were magnificently sudden. Not that it was super tricky, it's just that a 650 lb bike with semi-street tires likes to go its own way in the loose stuff and there was enough of that on the hairpins to keep me awake and doing sphincter exercises.
Border Patrol in waiting
Sorry I don't have more pics on the way up but I was busy
At the top there is a fantastic view both to the east and to the west. I pulled in on the east side and got off the bike, admiring the view back, when I was accosted by a guy wanting to talk about the GS. If I could get a dollar for each time someone wants to talk, I could ride a lot more...
Anyway, he was older and had raced desert in California back in the day... we talked about Husky WR's and such. He eyed the GS again and wished me well on the trip.
Looking eastward
From there I wandered over to the west side and was blown away by the view. There is a vast valley heading down into Mexico, remote and empty. The scale can't be caught in pictures. I was like "Wow", and thought "Man I'm about to cross that!"
It was easy to see why the Border Patrol has their work cut out for them. It is huge and nothing but wilderness.
Also interesting was the radar/optic/hoosamawhatsit rig they were scanning the valley below with. It was pretty cool standing there and looking out over that scene.
Nogales still lay about 60 slow miles away, so I headed down the rocky road following the switchbacks into the valley below. I was on the pegs all the way down, as it was pretty rough with a lot of loose rock, gravel and the ever present washboard and ruts.
I wasn't able to get much in the way of pics until I got lower down the pass
The road down finally tapered into rolling terrain before the flat valley base
I passed a few slow patrolling Border Patrol trucks and was passed by a couple myself. They are very, very active on that road and honestly I was glad to see it. I had begun to notice that the dirt on the sides of the road was smooth as if it had been swept and about the time I realized they were doing it purposely so they could see footprints, I came up behind a BP truck dragging a set of tires.
I followed slowly behind him until he noticed and pulled over a bit for me and I waved as I passed. Having descended the mountain, I rode up and down through the foothills on the narrow dirt road. Again, after a few miles I'd see another BP truck, and at one point I was showered in dust as a truck overtook me and passed at a good clip.
Taking a break to pull off another layer
The ever-present eye in the sky
Eventually the terrain changed into vast rolling grassland and the road smoothed and widened. It was truly inspiring to be riding in the massive valley, with no human activity or presence visible as far as the eye could see.
I was able to open up the big bike’s engine and haul butt in some stretches and it felt so good after the tedious switchback areas.
This ride is one that will forever be in my memory.
The air was cool and crisp, the sun brilliant, the sky as clear and deep blue as I've ever seen it, the wind blowing the golden grass in waves as I glided up and down the rolling road with dust behind me. I asked God to forever burn this moment into my being.
It was interesting, as there were some areas I went through that were exactly like the area of the Hill Country where I live. At one moment, when I was down in a draw, it was so weirdly the same that I would swear I was on an old ranch road near Leakey, Texas.
At some point you enter private ranch land on the road and it was interesting seeing a windmill or two, old cattle stations and the distant ranch house.
Slowly the road became smoother and more manicured and I could tell I was re-entering a region less remote. I came down through the remains of the old town of Lochiel and shortly thereafter hit about a 100' section of asphalt, then immediately was back on dirt. I thought "That was weird! Wonder why?" Right after that, I blasted past the Friar Liar monument and did a quick U-turn.
The monument is a giant concrete cross with sitting area, overgrown and unmaintained, set up as a monument to Fray Marcos de Niza, the first European west of the Rockies who entered what is now Arizona in 1539.
I stripped off my gear and relaxed a while, looking out over the rolling grassland and savoring the sound of the wind.
In a bit, I heard the rumble of a diesel engine and a Border Patrol truck idled up, the window rolling down as he stopped. I walked over to the window and the agent said hello and commented on the bike. He introduced himself as Dirk and we talked a while. He said he knew Kerrville well, as he had been born in San Angelo, and spent a summer or two at Mo Ranch before his parents moved to Alaska. I never cease to be amazed at what a small world it is.
In commenting on the number of BP trucks and activity, he said business was brisk due to two other areas being clamped down on and thus the smuggling had picked up here tremendously. While we talked, I heard the radio chatter of "We've got two runners - they're definitely running..." and other snippets of conversation. Quite interesting to have a moment in his world. He also pointed to the strip of asphalt I'd just wondered about, and said it was there to cover an archaeological site that was found directly in the current road. They simply buried it again and covered it with asphalt to protect it.
Dirk was more than happy to pose for a quick snapshot, and then was on his way.
That was my cue to head on as well. The road continued on through rolling hills until reaching the base of the mountains again, at which point the road climbed steeply into sharp switchbacks and gravel as it cut the mountain edge.
Ahead in the trees I caught a momentary glint and was wondering what it was, when suddenly a pickup came barreling out of a side road and stopped dead in front of me. I locked up and slid to a stop, then rolled back down a ways. The truck had two Marines in it and they maneuvered around until passing me, with a second truck doing the same, but this one being law enforcement. If I hadn't seen that little glint, I'd have been creamed by the truck in the switchback.
Up and over the top, I slowly wound down into a valley again.
At the base, I began to hit grey silty areas on the road. For those of you who ride GS's you know how they like to take a dive when silt or sand comes along. I started to get a little antsy, especially at times when the sun is behind you and the flat light makes it impossible to read the surface.
The silt was getting deeper and sure enough, I rounded a corner to find two BP trucks stopped for a chat in the middle of the road. The only area I could get past was on the side where the deepest soft stuff was and as I went past I did my best imitation of the guy riding the giant sand worms in Dune. I didn't go down, but I'm sure the agents in the trucks were highly entertained watching my arse fishtailing back and forth trying to keep from taking a dive.
The road smoothed out and eventually turned to asphalt again, leading up to Hwy 82 which went south for Nogales. I was getting hungry and Mexican food in Nogales seemed appropriate. It wasn't far into the town but as I got into the congested downtown, I decided I wasn't hungry any longer. I rode through a couple of neighborhoods built on the hillsides, then looped back out of town.
This Friar was not the liar - they have a large memorial to him - Padre Eusebio Francisco Kino. As the plaque says, "Founder of Missions, Man of God, Pioneer, Explorer, Astronomer, Rancher, Teacher, Cartographer, 1645-1711"
I had planned on continuing my ride on west, taking Ruby road across to Arivaca, but the sun was low enough to remind me that the days aren't lasting as long as I think so I decided not to push it.
Instead I headed back northeast on 82 for Patagonia. Sounded like an interesting place and it turned out to be just that. Kind of an artsy community and sleepy little town. They had a great coffee shop and I enjoyed a quick late lunch and downloading pics. It was nice not pushing for a change.
Real men don’t eat quiche
The plan was to check in the hotel early, get a hot shower, relax and do the ride report. I parked in front of the old hotel, got my stuff off, drug it into the lobby and waited for the clerk to return. Twenty minutes later, still no clerk. I went next door and a guy in a black cowboy outfit walked out of a large old bank vault and asked me what I wanted. Told him I was looking to check in to the hotel, but no one was there. He suggested I go down the street a little to the bar and relax until Judy the owner showed up again.
Instead, I wandered the main street a while, enjoying the sunset and air and eventually saw an older woman head into the bar. Sure enough it was the hotel owner/bartender and an hour later I finally got a room
So much for an early day.
Still not sure which roads I will ride tomorrow. I plan to continue the west route of the road I was on today, which is called Ruby Road and goes to Arivaca. However, I have been warned by three folks now that the road to Arivaca is dangerous and I had better "go heavily armed," as there have been "bandits" operating on that road. Gotta check the alternate routes and see...
Today's ride was fantastic. One of the best roads I've ridden, simply by the variety of terrain encountered, the incredible weather and the circumstances surrounding it.
If you're in that area, it's a great ride and perfect for a GS if you have basic skills.
More tomorow amigos!
The route and altitude
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