Trip Report Day 18: Las Vegas, NV to Burbank, CA

Date:  Sunday, September 5, 2010
Start: 1130 (1000 wake-up)

Finish: 1900

Travel Time: 7.5 hrs

Distance: 276 miles

Total Distance Covered: 5215 miles

The last day was upon us.  We woke, some of us foggier than others, and made our way through the typical morning motions of clean up, pack up, eat up, maintenance checks, followed by fuel up, followed by Cowboy up for your last day on the road, all the while Goda and Timmy had the unenviable task of recounting what actually happened only a few short hours ago.

This was a surreal sort of morning.  We left only 18 days ago, but it might as well have been a year ago.  It felt like our lives had become redefined by these morning rituals, and these hours spent on our bikes with the hum of the road, or the crunching dirt and rock sound of the trail beneath us.  Our sole focus: making our miles for the day in one piece.  Some nights were in tents with the cool rocky mountain breezes, or the tapping of rain on our fly.  Others were in road-side motels with air conditioning and rerun sitcoms playing on TVs as we drifted off.  Each day was its own mission, its own purpose, and that purpose was simple, yet entirely involving.  We moved without thinking, and often without words, it was routine at this point. 

That started to change when we fueled up.  The last stretch of road was mere moments away from us and we were a mix of excited, and regretful.  On one hand, we were 276 miles from completing the largest undertaking of our lives, on the other, we'd be back to reality, back to jobs and bills and responsibilities...  back to stresses and problems that pale in comparison to "not riding off a cliff", or "not flipping your bike, breaking a leg, or dying in a fiery crash"  Life was about to happen to us again.  Not necessarily "Living", but life... 

BLEH !!! 

Having been through what we had, though, this last paltry 276 miles was meant to be a breeze.  It was a trip I’ve made a dozen times, and there was no navigation and no uneven trails or hundred foot drops to deal with.  It was a straight shot of highway from here to home.  Simple. 

This was our first mistake of the day.  The road out of Vegas was crowded with the typical Sunday morning traffic.  You had your local folks getting to and from, and you had your Angelino’s retreating back to LA, either entirely defeated by the house, or perhaps up a bit and feeling good…  Either way, they were leaving with a weekend’s worth of memories, and no desire whatsoever to be on the road for 4 – 6 hours.  Overall, they were a lot like us.  Save for one small detail.  They were obliviously plodding along in the aerodynamic, cabin-cooled comfort of a car, and we were being blown in all directions by inexplicable gale-force winds.  Did I mention it was hot as hell again?!

That’s right for the third time this trip we were leaning 30 degrees into crazy strong winds that made high speed navigation a pipe dream.  AND for the second time this trip, we were sitting in the middle of the Mojave desert covered from head to toe in moto armor.  It was meant to be quick, simple and sweet, but it was turning out to be another adventure.  We wouldn’t have it any other way.  We exclaimed over our helmet comms and pushed on, head to wind, for the next hour and half. 

The winds were whipping things in every direction, trying their damnedest to whip us off of our iron horses.  They failed at that, but if you were tracking us on our website, you might think otherwise.  About 40 minutes out of town the wind loosened up the top of Goda’s tank bag, and our spot tracker took a dive at about 60 mph on the freeway.  It disintegrated into pieces, and with it, our progress online abruptly ended.  If you were following our tracking site, you’d see that we made it a few miles out of town and then disappeared from the map completely.  Only a last known position would be displayed…  No updates showing our inchworm like progress across the map.  No more stalker like moments of realizing that we’d gone another 10 miles and were travelling at “x” miles per hour…  The whole trip ended in a dot on the side of the 15West…  ?!  We thought it’d be good to send a quick update to a few loved ones so as not to panic anyone, and we pushed on. 

After about 90 minutes, the winds died down and we could ride like normal human beings again.  We endured more heat, but for better or worse the next 200 miles or so would be largely uneventful.  When we saw the last highway connection coming up we decided to play it safe and stop to fuel up.  We had done this 45-50 times in the last 18 days by my calculations, but this was a stop unlike the others.  It was the last one of the trip.  We ran through the motions of ripping off our gloves, dismounting our tank bags, producing credit cards and pumping gas like a couple of robots.  Before getting back on the road, we stopped for a quick snack and Chris looked at me and said, “ This is it dude…  a few more miles and were done…”  I looked on with not much to say.  What could I say.  He was right, this was our last stop.  In about an hour or so, we’d be right back where we started 18 days and 5,215 miles ago.  It was at once an enormous relief, and an equally enormous let down.  I was excited to see Britt again, to sleep in my own bed, and shower…  regularly…  but the colors were starting to dim a bit.  The tastes were beginning to dull…  we’d been living for these few days in the moment, and that long and wonderful moment was about to die. 

We chatted a bit more, finished our snacks, plugged in the tunes and hit the last stretch of road for the last time on the trip.  In no time we found ourselves in the infamous LA traffic as we tore down the 210 freeway.  It was all ending so fast, we wanted to savor it just a bit more.  I popped on the helmet comms and broke through to Goda's headset interrupting his steady Mp3 stream. 

“Dude…  wanna take a detour?”

“Yeah man, let’s do it.”

We took the exit for the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, and weaved our way through the neighborhoods and to the hills for our last taste of moto-bound scenery.  As we wound up and over the Pasadena/La Canada/Flintridge hills, the sun was just starting to hover over the horizon.  The air was cooling and a mellow light permeated the sky.  We crested to see a gorgeous pre-sun-set view and began our decent into Glendale.  We didn’t say much.  We just leaned into the turns a little too eagerly, and shot down the straights maybe a little too fast.  It was a tiny reprieve from the inevitable, but it was enough. 

Two or three turns later, we pulled into the driveway where it all began.  The door kicked open and Brit was smiling and ready to greet us with hugs and a cold drink.  We laughed and told her about the last day’s adventure.  We snapped one last picture, and sent one last tweet that the trip was officially over.  In a few minutes we’d be sitting in a restaurant recounting our favorite moments, trying to put it all into perspective.  Who knows… Maybe a year from this day we’ll still be doing the same thing. 

Roads to Rockies had officially come to an end. Of course we'd always have the memories of the trip, but this seemed to go a little further than that.  It seems to me that each of us had left some part of ourselves out there in those miles of road and rock.  And so, a part of each of us will always be on that trip.

Here's a final summary of our actual route.

/s/ Yobo

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

Trip Report: Day 16: Rest Day

Date:  Friday, September 3, 2010
Start: 1000 wake-up
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: N/A
Distance: 0 miles
Total Distance:  4631 miles

So if you are continuing the posts from yesterday you're probably anxiously awaiting Timmy was able to make it to work only a few hours after polishing off a good portion of a bottle of Jack.  I awoke first at 1000 and actually wasn't feeling that bad.  I walked out of the room that was the location for last night's scene of the crime and ventured into Timmy's room to see if he made it up.  Not even close.  He was face down in the mattress and dead to the world.  I giggled a little and shut the door.  Yobo started tossing on the couch.

We both recounted last night's events and got a kick of how everything got raised a few notches.  Yobo had made it through the entire spectacle without belting out one single note.  We both woke up Timmy hoping that maybe he had already called in sick.  Unfortunately that wasn't the case, and he let the office know he wouldn't be in.

Yobo and I now had a few missions for our "Rest Day."

1. Cook some grub and get Timmy recovered
2. Fix Timmy's car so he could make the trip to Vegas with us tomorrow
3. Most importantly...relax and not ride our motorcycles

We walked down to his Saab and noticed the leak he had been talking about.  Leak might be an understatement.  Timmy basically had the Mississippi river of radiator fluid flowing from under his hood and the small lake that had formed underneath was a clear sign we might be in over our heads.  We added some radiator sealant we had carried on our trip with the hopes he would be good to go and headed off to Whole Foods.  Yobo made some of his signature omelettes with Feta, basil, spinach, and tomato.  He also cooked up some chicken apple sausage and home-made hash browns while I sliced up the watermelon.  The smells must have awoken our compatriot, because our boy Timmy soon arose from the grave and graced us with his morning glory.  He immediately started chugging some water and we all had a good laugh about last night.

The food gave us all a little extra energy and we decided to head down to the pool.  Yobo and I were both still not sure how to handle this whole situation.  We didn't have to pack a bike to go anywhere, we weren't in a constant state of fear thinking we forgot something, we knew exactly where we were going and how we were going to get there, and we were in bathing suits and not our storm trooper power ranger suits.  Huh.  A few more of these kind of days spread throughout the trip would have done us some good.  We all sat by the pool and caught up on life.  Timmy has a sense of humor like no one else we know, and it was just like being in our high school cafeteria at lunch.  Yobo showed off his water treading prowess, our man is like a fish in water.  Me on the other hand might be just the opposite and felt no more effective in the water than a bookshelf full of cinder blocks.

After a bit we headed back up to the apartment and enjoyed "Old School,"  one of the great cinema classics from our generation.  After our unexpected bender last night and planned debauchery in Vegas tomorrow night, we decided to head down to old town in Scottsdale and enjoy a relaxing dinner at one of the local steak houses.  The one thing that Yobo and I will say about Scottsdale is that...well...if you're a bachelor, there might not be a better place to be.  This was our second time visiting in just over a few months and the scenery was second to none both times.  Hind sight is always 20-20, but if I had to pick another school for a higher learning experience, ASU would be at the top of my list.

We made it home unscathed and talked about Vegas.  Our quick radiator repair attempt didn't appear to be working and Tim didn't have a ride to Vegas.  Our fix was to rent a car and ride up.  With our plans figured out, we rested up and hit sack.

/s/ Goda

Trip Report Day 15: Willcox, AZ to Scottsdale, AZ

Date:  Thursday, September 2, 2010
Start: 1100 (0900 wake-up)
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: 8 hrs
Distance: 220 miles
Total Distance:  4631 miles

It felt like there was a big load off our backs now that the trail was over and the rest of the trip was a vacation in a vacation as we made our way to Vegas to celebrate.  It all started with us sleeping in till 0900 this morning.  0900 you say...I KNOW...0900!!!!! Today was a light day on the road to Scottsdale, AZ where we planned to stay with one of our best friends Timmy Turner.  We've all known each other since 6th grade and have remained the closest of friends since.  We enjoyed the free hotel breakfast and then took advantage of the business center PC for some proper blog updates from the past two days.

We were loaded up and ready to go before noon, but the one thing we noticed was that we were breaking more of a sweat than usual.  This was our first taste of some true AZ heat.  But like everyone says..."it's a dry heat."  Well try on storm trooper power ranger moto gear and see how dry the heat is.  We just wanted to get moving so we could take advantage of the vents in our jackets and pants because it makes a huge difference.  It could be worse though.  If it had been raining we would have had to endure our rain liners which were basically sweat suits.  Not too far into the ride, Yobo noticed that his fairing was making some noise, so we pulled off the highway into a rest station for a quick fix with some zip ties.

As we approached Tucson we were in the peak of the early afternoon sun and temps rose to 110F.  It was the hottest conditions either of us had ever ridden in.  At these temps, 70 mph of hot air blowing on you doesn't really provide a whole lot of relief.  We needed gas, but totally picked the wrong exit.  We passed strip mall after strip mall with no signs of fuel or place for a quick snack.  We weren't too impressed with what Tucson had to offer.  We finally found a Mini-Mart and enjoyed some snacks in the comfort of a shady curb and did some good old fashion people watching.  We reluctantly geared up again and returned to that radiant furnace they called a highway.  Soon after we exited for a gas station.  At the same time, a decked out 1200GS pulled up and we chatted for a bit.  He was headed cross country and on his way to San Diego.

We pushed forward on our last stretch to Scottsdale.  About 10 miles away from our destination, my temperature light came on.  It was nearing rush hour and traffic wasn't moving to quickly to help cool the engines.  I ran into a similar problem on my trip to Bonnaroo a few years back and it jacked up my spark plug.  I didn't want to take any chances, so we exited and found a shady spot in a parking lot and chilled for a bit to give the bikes a rest.  By this point we just wanted to get to Tim's place.  We got back on the bikes after about 20 minutes and soon found ourselves at Timmy's.  He wasn't home from work yet, but he left a key and we unloaded our gear.

We cleaned up and headed out for a light and refreshing sushi dinner and followed up at another bar for a night cap.  It quiet, but I guess that's what you get on a Wednesday night.  On the way out we were getting into Tim's car when some high school kids went driving by pretending like they were shooting us.  I reacted immediately and started chasing them in Terminator 2 mode with arms in full stride.  -----I'll set the stage before I go any further.  I am a pretty fit guy, but have been basically been sitting on my bummy for 2 weeks straight...and I had a few drinks in me.-----  I was sprinting as fast as I could and got to the point where I could actually see there facial expressions say "Holy fucking shit. This guy is actually trying to catch us and he's gaining ground."  They were slowed a bit by having to navigate around a sea of strip mall curbs, but eventually got to a straight section and pulled away.  I remained in full stride because I thought I could cut them off when they had to exit the parking lot.  Remember when I set the stage before?  Well, this is where zero exercise for two weeks and alcohol came in to play.  My legs started cramping and I basically tripped over a curb because my coordination at this point in the evening was a few notches lower then normal.  I got up and spun around in circles just like that classic scene at the end of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre with Leatherface .  I had a hole in my jeans and was sad because they got away.

Needless to say we were pretty amped up heading back to Timmy's and for some reason started singing "Heaven" by Warrant in the car.  When we arrived I went straight for his computer and pulled up the video on YouTube.  Tim came in with a bottle of Jack that was basically 2/3 full.  Mike crashed on the couch as Tim and I continued wailing at the top of our lungs  in two-part-harmony for the next three hours.  We covered every major 80's power ballad known to man.  We would open one screen with the lyrics and one screen with the video.  By the end of the night the bottle of Jack and a 2 liter of coke were empty.  The best part about it was that every video was added on my wall in Facebook, so the night will live on forever.  Mike and I had the luxury of sleeping in, but Timmy was supposed to be in work at 0900 the next day, which by this point was only a few hours away.  Would he make it???  Stay tuned tomorrow and find out.

/s/ Goda

Trip Report Day 14: Clifton, AZ to Antelope Wells, NM to Willcox, AZ

Date:  Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Start: 1000 (0600 wake-up)
Finish: 18:00
Travel Time: 8 hrs
Distance: 349 miles
Total Distance:  4411 miles

Day 14.  Two weeks in.  Antelope Wells, New Mexico was so close we can taste it.  In a way this felt like the last day of the trip and in a way it just felt like all of our other days.  The real question was, what kind of emotions would overcome us if and when we hit the border.

The motel we stayed at was a one-stop shop.  We enjoyed the tacos at the bar last night, and this morning we went over to the restaurant for the most important meal of the day.  The restaurant only had one other patron sitting down, but he was enjoying one monster omelette, so we decided to seat ourselves with the hopes we would also get to enjoy.  Service was a little slow, but it gave us some time to befriend our lonely companion.  He actually worked at the Copper Mine and was just getting off 3rd shift from driving one of the dump trucks in Freeport's massive fleet.  These weren't your every day dump trucks, these things were the giant trucks of every little boy's dreams.  The funny thing was that the mine was so massive that they looked like matchbox trucks when viewed from the road.  He had some great stories to tell and filled us in on some crazy numbers from the mine:

• 1st largest copper mine in the US
• 3rd largest in the world
• on August 31st, 340 thousand tons of ore were extracted
• in the mines prime a few years ago they'd pull 1 million tons a day
• his truck hauls 310 tons in a single load
• there are an expected 100 additional years of mining to be had

He was a down-to-earth guy who put in some hard hours and proud of what he did and we really enjoyed getting to know him.  We packed up the bikes and decided to try and get some close-ups photos of the dump truck graveyard just down the road.  Apparently we got a little too close and a few of Freeport's finest gave us a warning to get off the private property.   On the way out, we giggled a bit as we passed under the "Primary Crusher" and proceeded on our way.  If you looked up mining town in Webster's, Clifton might as well been the one-word definition.  At this time though, it was showing signs of the reduced production.  We said our good-byes and were on our way.

We headed east on Rt. 10 through Lordsburg and pulled off one of the exits to shop for some border souvenirs.  We couldn't resist the never-ending billboards advertising this place.  I walked away with a rattlesnake skin belt buckle and Yobo picked up a little treat for Brit.  We got back on the highway and made that fateful right hand turn that left us with only the Mexican border in front of us.  By this point, the Continental Divide had puttered out into a few small hills rising over the desert planes in the distance.  The prominence was there but it was it didn't seem like the divide we've grown to know.  It was unique and beautiful in its own way.  We stopped in Hachita to fill up our tanks at what had to to be the oldest gas stations in the country.  I actually emptied my spare fuel tanks that I've carried for over 2700 miles rather than fill up at the station.  Our only interaction now was with other people involved the border patrol trucks on patrol.

We headed due south on Rt 81 and soon enough the signs for the border showed up and THEN...the border station was in sight.  They were working on expanding the station so there was some construction going on, but other than that it was like a glorified gas station complete with soda machines and candy machines inside and a bunch of attendants sitting around exchanging war stories.  We approached and told them about our journey and they told us about many just like it.  The one that sticks out though was a couple that did the same thing as your two protagonists...but on unicycles!!!!!  This port entry was pretty benign and they said typical traffic was five cars a day or so.  They let us proceed to the border to snap some photos and revel in the moment.  It was funny because we recorded some videos and we were both kind of at loss for words.

It must be interesting for these border patrolmen to observe different groups of riders both starting and ending their continental divide journey.  They get to observe the excitement and anxiety just like we had in Roosville and the exhaustion and overwhelming sense of accomplishment we exhibited in their backyard.  This moment was a culmination of once-in-a-lifetime experiences.  We ended up with a trail from Canada to Mexico that is unique to us and only us.  Yobo and I could do our best to capture it in prose for the rest of the world, but this won't be something we soon forget.  Now we just have to get back to LA to complete the story.

We hopped on our bikes and headed northbound for the first time in10 days.  And wouldn't ya know it, on our way towards Hachita we saw a bike riding towards us.  It was our buddy Kyle.  I guess it's not that outlandish that we would run into him again, but really???  We exchanged a few more stories and took a couple goofy pics.  We highly recommended he hit up Rt 191 (Devil's Highway) on the way back to Canada.  Kyle was a great guy and we both hoped to ride with him again at some point.

The goal now was to get into AZ.  We stopped in Willcox, AZ and stayed in a Holiday Inn just off the highway.  This was pretty funny because my father had been tracking us on my spot tracker and the satellite images that were available didn't have the Holiday Inn and he thought we were camping just off the highway in a parking lot.  After reassuring him we were safe we asked the front desk for a local place to eat and they recommended El Ranchero.  It was authentic Mexican in a restaurant with a dining area that looked like my parents living room.  We had fun with our waitress, Carmen and she snapped a polaroid to add to the collection on the wall.  We were still on a "Man vs Wild" kick, so we enjoyed a few episodes before falling asleep in some comfy queen-sized beds.  Tomorrow our last phase begins.

/s/ Goda