three-way, grasshoppers, one cheek to blackjack

October 3, 2008

Day Twelve

"When a grasshopper tries to fight a lawnmower, we may admire his courage but not his judgement."
- Robert A. Heinlein -

"You're off to great places, today is your day. Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way."
- Dr. Seuss -

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When we left Safford at 6:30 we immediately began climbing, first over a smaller pass of 4,750 feet, then over a higher one of 6,295 feet.

At the top of the first pass we met a group of bikers on a week-long sag-supported trip with Timberline Tours out of Denver. (Sag-supported means there's a vehicle, a "sag wagon," which carries all of the gear so you don't have to) They had just climbed up from the opposite direction and were about to coast down toward Safford.

Between the two peaks our maps showed a town at about 3700 feet named Three Way. Three Way?!? Our imaginations lit up, anxious to hear about the town's salacious origins.

We pulled into town and found a single building, a lonely convenience store as old and faded as the dusty earth around it, and were disappointed upon learning that the origin of the town's name comes from the "three ways" in and out of it.

We bought lunch but ate it in front of the store, opting to forego the air conditioning because the cashier, a wiry, middle-aged woman, was smoking. She wasn't even the "I'm trying to hide my cigarette because it's illegal to smoke indoors," but the "I'm staring you straight in the eye while I take a drag on my cigarette, then blow smoke to the ceiling as I challenge you to say a single word" kind of smoker.

Since we'd be dry camping in the mountains tonight we bought enough provisions for the evening.

We finished our lunch and, just as we were getting ready to leave, Erin rolled up. We had already been there an hour and the temperature was over 90 so we continued on, leaving Three Way at noon to begin the ascent.

Klaus commented on something that I'd never realized: there are fences everywhere. It's true.... every single piece of isolated, parched, treeless, shrubless, hard, cracked, desolate, God-forsaken hardscrabble had a barbed wire fence protecting it. Why? he wondered aloud. Even the hellhole some people call Glamis had fences.

Today is grasshopper day. They've been increasing in number since we left Safford. Now, on the way up the mountain, their numbers blossomed. Never have I seen so many grasshoppers.... thousands of them.

They were landing on everything... bikes, bodies, bags

I wish I had taken some pictures when they were at their thickest. At that point there was never more than 4-6 inches at most between each individual insect. Unfortunately, I waited a few hours and didn't get a picture until later.

their exoskeleton is beautiful, and looks like gilded armor

And I learned something new about them today: they're cannibals!

The road was covered with their shattered carcasses. There were so many that if you closed your eyes and walked from one side of the road to the other you would touch an ex-grasshopper with every single step. Any grasshopper courageous enough to hop into the road to help a crushed friend (or help himself to a crushed friend) would inevitably be the next victim. Here's a picture of a grasshopper having a friend over for dinner.

There were SO many, I wondered: "How do they multiply so fast?"

After about three miles of climbing we met another biker going down.

His name is Rick Brindell, from Cape Girardeau, Missouri. He's one of those people who is really excited about life, his exuberance infectious. Manic and bouncing, Rick told how he started from his home and traveled south, following the Mississippi river until it crossed the Southern Tier ACA route. We talked on the side of the road for about half an hour until we had to get going... we still have eleven more miles of steep uphill climbing through Black Jack Canyon (which is next to Buzzard Roost Canyon, which is next to Rattlesnake Canyon - I love the names)

Erin passed us with a little less than a thousand feet of altitude left. He's a strong rider and is only carrying half of what Klaus is carrying and twice what I'm carrying so he was able to breeze by us.

Klaus taught me a German phrase used to describe something easy: "I could fart that with one cheek." It's become a common expression now.

As we climbed, one turn of the crank after another, one yard after another, one half mile after another, one mile after another, the valley began to spread out below us. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen getting to my brain, but I was ecstatic. What we saw was some of the most spectacular scenery I'd seen. It was a panorama of colors and textures, all of it barren, lonely, beautiful, and unable to be captured on film... although, of course, I tried.

Periodically, I’d stop on the side of the road, sweat dripping off my nose and my shirt clinging to me like I was in a losing wet T-shirt contest, then look up at the seemingly neverending 8% grade. A glance at Klaus, then a wheezy gasp:

"One cheek!"

And his reply:

"One cheek!"

Then off we'd go....

Our campsite, Black Jack Campground, was just beyond the summit. For supper I had some soup which Klaus cooked for me.

We quickly set up our tents and promptly climbed inside because the mosquitoes were as hungry as we were.

At the very Eastern edge of this weird Arizona time zone it got dark at 6:30.

I blogged until 7:30 and fell asleep while writing.

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distance: 43 miles
average speed: 8.1 mph
maximum speed: 38.6 mph
riding time: 5:39:00
cumulative: 581 miles
feet climbed: 3407

Today's ride: 43 miles (69 km)
Total: 580 miles (933 km)

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