Wyoming, Great Divide Basin

Wyoming, Great Divide Basin
Wyoming, Great Divide Basin

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Trip Report: Day 17: Scottsdale, AZ to Vegas

Date:  Saturday, September 4, 2010
Start: 1030
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: N/A
Distance: 308 miles
Total Distance:  4939 miles

So we woke up after a quiet evening feeling anxious to hit the road once more. Having hit the border just two days ago we were already in the throes of our extended ride home. We quietly recognized that there were only a two days left in our adventure and began with our ritual of morning preparations, which at this point was already starting to feel a bit nostalgic.  Timmy got set up with the rental car, plenty of music and snacks for the ride, and we set off.

It was mid morning and nothing close to the typical early and cool start that we were used to.  Temperatures were already fairly warm as we made our way through traffic and out of town.  The now second-nature act of organizing our two motos as we navigated to and from our destinations was made more complicated with a third member following in a car.  Where we might have split lanes and passed through long lines of traffic, we were anchored to our car-bound follower which made getting out of traffic a slower affair...  and slower means hotter. 

Whether your in a car, or on a bike, its one thing to be stuck in traffic in the hot Arizona summer.  In a car you may or may not have air conditioning, but at least you don't have the sun beating directly on you.  On a bike, if your prepared for warm weather moto sports, you have light jackets, and breathable protective gear.  This was not the case with us.  We were lucky enough to be stuck in trafic wearing head to toe heavy moto armor. We knew we could expect hotter conditions though, and were prepped with several liters of cold water in our hydration packs.  We took measured sips of water, whether or not we were thirsty, at regular intervals to help keep cool.  Along with that I had a soaking wet chamois around my neck to assist my body's natural liquid cooling process.  So far so good, but we were more than ready for the open road and the 70mph breeze that came with it.  One of the most memorable experiences of that trip was having to open up the visor on our helmets with 70 mph hot air blowing.  If you're interested in a simulation, head to your bathroom, plug the hair dryer in, and stick it in your mouth.  Seriously.  It wasn't only hot, but tough to breath.  Lesson learned...visor stays closed.

The open road did come.  Not too long after we hit the road we were out of town and hooking up with our road to vegas.  We continued to sip water and keep our neck wraps cool, but it was all for not.  The American southwest is largely a dessert. AND it was late august.  AND some would argue that the only thing worse than dry air wicking away your precious moisture is 70 mile per hour of dry air coursing across your entire body.  The whole thing added up to a miserable experience...  Imagine sitting in an oven for about 6 hours and you'll be getting close.  To anyone else who's been through it, you have our sympathies, and I hope we have yours.  Symapthy or no, we chose to be here, and we knew this would happen, and we did it anyway.  It goes to show how stupid we can be for a couple of smart guys. 

I remember Mr. Pagoda saying to me before we left for this trip that I would learn something about myself, and possibly even change.  I thought that was a bunch of nonsense, but it was true.  I had learned, and grown from the experience so far.  I like to think I was made better by the whole experience.  BUT, the trip had another personal lesson to throw my way.  I don't do particularly well with high-heat situations.  I have always been one for cooler conditions.  I would be perfectly comfortable in high 60 to low 70 degree weather, year round.  This 110 degree / 70mph desert oven was about as close to pure torture as I've come.  We had been through alot on this trip.  We'd seen our share of adversity, changing plans, routes, thrills, spills and danger.  This was the first time I wanted to get off the bike and walk away from the whole thing....  I wanted to, but didn't.  I kept thinking, "just hold it together and get through the next few hours and you're gonna be in Vegas, and all of its air-conditioned comfort."  We stopped for gas, and I guzzled one and a half gatorades, with a bunch of beef jerky, and a grab bag of salty potato chips and I was much better off.  The day started to cool off as we made our way futher north.  (and by cooling off I mean going from 110 to 100-105 F)  Despite the small quantitative value, the felt difference was welcome.  My spirits began to rise, and I felt for the first time that day that I might make it out of this thing in one peice.  phew.

Mileage signs to the Hoover dam began to show up.  My spirits lifted even more.  I could finally guage how much longer i'd have to play the role of a human heat sink!  Next thing we knew, we found ourselves proceeding through security check points and then onto the damn in a long slow procession of gaping mouthed tourists in cars.  We were no different... except for the car part that is.  We pulled off to snap a few pics.  The Hoover Dam basin was large and impressive, but not nearly as grandiose as the Freeport Copper Mine.

/Goda here/
And that brings us to Las Vegas, NV.  Yobo had made the trek several times prior since he lived in such close proximity.  I, however, have never been.  So imagine the excitement of living on bikes for 2 1/2 weeks and then rolling onto the strip for the first time ever looking like you had just come back from a moon mission.  This was a moment that I was anticipating ever since we finalized the route and it didn't disappoint.  I think the only thing that would have made it better would have been to roll in at night with all of the lights in their full glory.

We had booked a room at the Hard Rock which was just off the main strip and had tried to rally some troops for one last celebratory party, but most everyone was busy.  Key word here is most.  Yobo had a hunch that Brit might surprise him.  We unpacked our bikes and made our way down the hallway past the waiting line for the pool.  I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty dope rolling through there like two grizzled motorcycle veterans.  We made our way to the check-in and sure enough...Ms. Brit was there anxiously awaiting her knight in moto armor.  I was pretty happy she was able to make the trip.  AND apparently, she would have to leave around 0400 in the morning to get back home for another work commitment.  I think that means Yobo found someone pretty special.  We all exchanged hugs and headed up to the room.  Yobo had booked this thing a while back and apparently he must have known the mayor of Vegas, because we scored the dopest hotel room we had ever stayed in.  It was only a few floors up with a view of the pool area.  We had a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge living room, master bedroom, and bar.  It was literally straight out of the movie "Hangover."  Timmy got us all started with Bacardi and Coke for the pre-grame.  We showered up, got Gagafied, and headed down for some grub at the Pink Taco.  Seriously, you could probably never leave the Hard Rock and still have the time of your life.

Dinner was a blast and the night followed suit.  We all hit up the newly constructed City Center and I managed to take a poor innocent kid hostage on the escalators with my imaginary pistol.  We relaxed outside of the Bellagio and enjoyed the classic fountain show and hit up a few more bars for some fancee adult beverages.  By about midnight Yobo and Brit were "tired", so they split back to the room.  This is where the paths of your two heroes makes an abrupt split, because Timmy and I were just getting our second wind.  We wandered around town and enjoyed a few more establishments before heading back to the hotel room.  Our return trip, however, was not to lay our tired heads to rest, but rather to finish off the Bacardi we had left up in the room like we were on a mission from God.  We were totally the opposite of quiet and Yobo and Brit had a few laughs at our expense.  Somehow we headed back down to the streets of sin city and enjoyed a few more drinks.  We danced our jibs off until the hotel bars started closing.  And this is the point where I get to say "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."  I know it sounds cliche, but guess what...it's sooooo true.

And with that, we wish you a good night.  For tomorrow, the trip comes to an end.

/s/ Yobo & Goda

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