dviciousbikefemme

[dviciousbikefemme]

[dviciousbikefemme]

March 19th 2020– From Globe Arizona we pedaled 75 miles into the town of Safford. I got us in touch with a sweet man named Jay. He was on Warmshowers and said to head on over. We got in around dinner time. He promptly showed us the space we’d be staying in. It is an incredibly large garage filled with all sorts of objects and machines and trinkets— who knows what you might dig up— his very own archeological site. It provided us with a shower, a toilet, a stove and two small makeshift beds. The stories I began to tell myself about Jay ran wild. Looking around, youda thunk he was a sentimental, jack of all trades. Bicycles, car parts, a wood chipper, books on computers, the environment, enough appliances to live with, which of course, we did for one evening. It was endless! He didn’t stay around long that night to chit-chat so we got to work on dinner and fell right into slumber.

The following morning we were greeted by Jay as his office was a room within that seemingly ancient structure. He offered us some lukewarm coffee and company and Bobby and I gladly accepted. We chowed down on our classic rolled oats breakfast as he constructed the tapestry of his life and mission right before our eyes. He is a father, a husband, an expert on hardware, a beekeeper, an environmental activist, an explorer, a lover, a builder, an inventor— the list goes on and on. It turns out he is quite the kindred spirit as protecting Mother Earth is so very important to him. He co-created an organization that cleans up litter in the Southeastern Arizona region. It even attempts to hold others like the Bureau of Land Management accountable for the maintenance of their land. His passion for Her and and his commitment to Love are quite admirable. Living through love is so important to him— unconditional and committal to himself, his beliefs, and in return- to others and to Earth.

Leaving Jay and Safford behind we continued to Duncan, Arizona where we’d stay with Deborah and Clay at the Simpson Hotel. They used to offer up Warmshowers space but no longer do so. Their hospitality in their bed and breakfast in this tiny town were, nonetheless, enjoyable. Most of the way into Duncan provided our thirsty eyes with snow capped mountains and hills and hills of poppies and desert brush. The air was cool and crisp for the first part of the day, making for pleasant cycling and the welcoming of sunshine. We stopped several times for snacking and bathing on Earth’s tender surface. Once in Duncan proper, the heat came on strong with insects that flew into our mouths and noses and shirt pockets and gasped for air crawling through my calves’ sweat and hair. We arrived at the door of the b&b to find a note saying they’d be back after our arrival— go ahead and make yourselves at home. The entire property is an art experience in and of itself— from paintings filling every wall to sculptures in the garden, plants of many and beautifully displayed objects natural and synthesized— A textural wonderland for the eyes. Bobby and Deborah hit it off quickly talking about their favorite folk musicians. Clay turns out to be prolific artist. The morning after, he took Bobby and I out to his studio after breakfast, humbly sitting past the laundry shelter. His art took me by surprise! It is quite original and quite funny and whimsical— each assemblage taking you into another world. The concept is that only one person is allowed to view one piece at a time in a world where our attention spans have become so short. Thank you, Don Carlos. ‘Twas masterful and colorful and left me feeling like I’d traveled back to see an ancestral time, synchronously, peering into a future reality.

[dviciousbikefemme]

Y’ALL!

Sorry to leave anyone in the dark that doesn’t already know about what is going on with me.

I thought today would be a good day to pick this back up. It’s my 29th birthday and I’m here in quarantine, spending it with my family. I’ve applied for several jobs at grocery and convenient stores but nothing’s stuck. Deep down I’m okay with it. I’ve been taking care of myself, as much as I can. I am giving myself a lot of space. I am in a better place and am able to communicate with my family a little better than before. I am practicing yoga everyday and walking around in nature and drawing and looking through old photo albums and am basking in the sun when she peaks out. I am savoring the moments with my siblings and my mom and I have a niece on the way and I even got to see my grandma yesterday. I haven’t been on my bike much the last two weeks, but am looking ahead for some day rides.

Bobby and I made the decision to pause our bicycle tour about two weeks ago. It was a tough choice to make, and heck we are grieving it, but also know it was the right choice. As we looked forward, nothing was too promising. Both public and private campgrounds were shutting down rapidly. We felt it irresponsible to continue past El Paso. We would mostly be visiting small, remote places and we did not want to be the travelers exposing vulnerable people to who-knows-what. We did not want to continue on a tour where we would be even more isolated on the road. Part of our ride has come to be about people. By prioritizing them, we had to say good bye—for now. So we made the decision to rent a car and drive to Southern Indiana and hunker down, for the time being.

I haven’t been on here much as I, for whatever reason, am pretty insecure about creative endeavors. I have always loved art and writings and music and all of these forms of expression my entire life, but when it comes to sharing, there is a sense of shame of my own work. I am trying to observe that feeling. And I want to thank all of you for reading. Being back here at my mom’s housealways feels like crawling back inside the womb. It feels like love and warmth and even if I don’t want to stay here forever and see the issues in it, I am also comforted by its familiarity —but maybe only for a moment. I’ve always thought of myself as a loyal person, and deep down I want to be and am extremely capable, but it always came before loyalty to self— is that authentic? Or even if I choose myself in certain situations, I feel the need to mask some of the outcome. I am learning about TRUTHFULLY putting myself first and communicating what I want. I’ve made some huge strides this past year, but sometimes, even the smallest setback feels like I’ve completely unraveled. I am slowly becoming okay with these setbacks. Being in Kentuckiana has given me a lot of time to be with myself and in nature. I am appreciating the area’s beauty much more than I ever did growing up. I was not raised to commune with nature, that came with time and, wow, has she become a vital part of my life. I can see Indiana and Kentucky in a much brighter light now. I can’t wait to explore more in the coming months.

That being said, Bobby and I are going to remain in the area until further notice. Likely June. And if everything is clear to travel back via our bikes, then we will begin the northern tier here in the Midwest— our destination being Seattle. Stay tuned though! I plan to begin putting my journal entries in for each day leading up to our departure from El Paso. Hopefully you will be able to connect the pieces. I’ll also post photos and entries about experiences here in quarantine.

PS Just to be clear I MISS ALL MY FRIENDS IN WA I MISS YOU ALL SO MUCH IT HURTS

[dviciousbikefemme]

Globe is an interesting little town, formally mining lots of copper, these days still a trading hub. The industry continues to hover there. It sure is an appropriate backdrop to the book I’m reading about gravel pits and mines and the destruction of sacred, Native spaces. After dropping our stuff, we went out to roam. We accidentally walked into a bar, thinking it was a packaged liquor store. It was, indeed, a beer-only bar. We hung around and listened to Willie Nelson with the bartender and a former mining prospector, Robert.

Globe is a few miles out from San Carlos, where a Western Apache Reservation lies. The locals there seem pretty superstitious, at least the 3 folks we talked to in the bar were. They told cautionary tales of the “Rez” and of the ghost of a cowboy at the local saloon. A few people went missing when going out to the Rez— “their car was found— their body is still missing” “some people go out there trying to make friends with the Apaches and they don’t come back for days, weeks, sometimes not at all!”— alcoholism, violence, hostility! I didn’t know much about the Apaches, the San Carlos or this area, for that matter, until traveling through. Both Bobby and I were a bit skeptical about the stories. They started back-pealing some of what they said as soon as we quieted down during their dramatic tellings. “Oh but you know, there are a lot of nice people out there too”, the bartender said. They failed to mention or acknowledge how Natives got to be where they are in the first place. A lot of HOW they told their stories put me in discomfort. It was difficult to say whether they’d hoped for some sort of camaraderie on our end or were looking to entertain us with the local drama. Maybe a little bit of both. These folks were friendly enough to us, of course. I understand that we all experience and learn about the world around us differently. And I don’t live in Globe but, there were a lot of generalizations being thrown around. I’m sure there is some hostility. And I’d imagine it is rightfully felt.

Shortly after the prospector left, we got up to leave and dropped into the Mexican restaurant next door. Halfway through the meal, I got really sick. It was difficult to walk back to the motel. It was a mile away from the restaurant and I was miserable with sharp pains, acid reflux and menstrual cramps. Bobby held my hand all the way there. When we got back we loafed around, drank ginger tea, watched a couple of movies and fell asleep. The next morning we went to the old downtown— empty shops with promising window art, priceless objects on display and a purchase for another day. We waltzed around the old saloon and a few cafes. And then it began to rain.. and rain.. and rain.. until it rocked us to sleep once again.

We rose early to breakfast at Bernard’s Cafe. We got eggs and potatoes and biscuits— the whole deal. And coffee— sweet coffee. Robert was there sippin’ on some too. He’d just finished his slice of pumpkin pie. It was nice seeing him again. This time we listened to his stories about mining in Alaska. Another man in the cafe approached us about our bike tour. He snickered and said, “a bunch of homeless folks if you ask me”, with a voice implying we are bums— implying homeless folks are bums.. He wasn’t too kind until Bobby mentioned his daddy was a logger and a Vietnam Vet. He lit up, knowing that. He continued to give me unfriendly glances. I am learning to not take it so personally. After wrapping up the conversation, we packed and rolled out to a long day. 75 miles to Safford!

[dviciousbikefemme]

I’d been having a rough time, even after the save from Andi and Gibby. The next day, Monday the 16th, my mental wellness was pretty down. It was my second day of my first period of the trip and I was struggling. I began getting anxious about thunderstorms in the forecast again. I got all worried about it, thinking we weren’t getting anywhere. I wasn’t very nice to Bobby, as a consequence. I was pretty short-tempered, as I can get that way when I’m annoyed and anxious and frustrated. He didn’t do anything and I apologized. We all project onto each other sometimes, don’t we?

We settled down that evening on the east side of Theodore Roosevelt Lake and all its rocks and hills and lovely flora and fauna. It was a wonderful contrast to my turbulent body signals. I am really glad we stopped there. It was a beautiful campground. We experienced the best sunset of the trip— like splitting open a blood orange and a grapefruit and maybe even a lemon too— all against a hazy purple and blue.

When we woke up I continued to overthink about the weather again. Bobby and I sat down together over a coffee to decide on what we wanted to do. Our next stop was Globe, AZ. Should we stay there for two nights and wait for the rain to roll through? I wanted to stay and avoid it in my condition of bloatedness and grump. An RV, a few sites away, warned us that NM just announced their state parks are closed to camping. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. New Mexico was just a few days away. We pedaled out of the scenic lake area and rode many hills to Globe. UPHILL /HEADWIND/ like REALLY BAD headwind// like while going down the larger descents I still pedaled a bunch HEADWIND. When we finally made it, we decided we’d stay a couple of nights. The next afternoon brought hard rain.

[dviciousbikefemme]

The night at the trailhead, in the Usery Region, turned out to be quite awful. Teenage/college age people came out in their pick-up trucks and ATVs around 9:30 or so to drink. We set up our tent right outside the entrance gate for the vehicles and they went in and out of the gate for hours, blasting bad music and hollering. Bobby and I, honestly, didn’t feel safe going out and asking them to be respectful. I heard one of them ask if the others had weapons, some yelling racial slurs and one of the gals shouted that she was carrying pepper spray. It sounded like there could have been at least a dozen of ‘em. A few were too drunk to drive by the end of it. When I woke up the next morning, I found a car full of these folks, snoozing. Sunday started out a drag. We needed to refill on water and expected to have to camp out unofficially again in the Tonto NF. We went out of our way to a recreation area down by the Salt River. There were restrooms but no faucets. So we slowly filtered water out of the river. Coming out of the river’s beach I noticed Bobby got the first flat tire of the trip. We set-up under a shelter and began to do the necessary maintenance. We went ahead and put a few damp clothing items and our tent fly out in the sun while we patched the tube. It was quite dewy that morning. A couple, out on a day ride, stopped and introduced themselves and asked about our trip. They were very kind and gave us a couple of options on where to get water down the road. One of them even gave me her number in case we had an emergency. Their names are Andi and Gibby. What was supposed to be a quick water refill turned into a frustrating morning. Bobby got a second flat just riding his bike around the parking lot and revealed that he’d been pretty frustrated with his shifting. I’m the one more well-versed on bike mechanics so I took a look at it. After several attempts to correct his shifting, I too, became very frustrated. I looked at the clock. It was a nearing lunchtime and we still hadn’t done but 5 miles so far that day. The shifting problem wasn’t something I wanted to ignore as we were expecting some steep climbs not too far down the road. I thought about backtracking into Apache Junction or Mesa to a bike shop. I thought we might stay in town while we asked a mechanic for advice or service.

Just as we were looking for signal to research the shop hours, Andi and Gibby pulled up in their pick-up truck. These angels brought a gallon of water, fruit and granola bars to gift to us for our journey. Here they were, so I asked — do y’all know anything about working on bikes? They confessed that neither of them do much wrenching but would be happy to take us to a shop or ask their neighbor if he’d mind taking a look. Gary, their neighbor, turned out to be free that afternoon. So we loaded up the truck with ourselves and our possessions and headed into Mesa with these generous strangers. Once we arrived, we took Bobby’s bike over to Gary’s garage, just 2 doors down. He propped the bike onto his stand and got to work. While diagnosing the problem, Andi offered up showers and lunch. Hard to turn any of it down. We took her up on both. Once squeaky clean, Bobby’s bike was in good riding condition. Gary had realigned his rear derailleur and made some necessary cable adjustments. We enjoyed lunch with Gibby and Andi in their backyard, where they offered to take us up the road to look for a camp site that evening. They got us about 25miles further than they’d found us that day. We are eternally grateful for these folks. I’m always prepared to pay it forward.

The campsite we chose is an entrance to an ATV trail that also winds up the hill to the trailhead of Mount Ord. There’s a stream there for water filtering and a few cow pies to look out for as there’s cattle roaming. When we pulled in, we spotted 3 other cycle tourists on the road. It turned out to be the Maine gang. We gave them a wave and they pulled in behind the truck. Timid at first, turn’s out they were low on water. We gladly gave them some of the water and ice we acquired from Andi and Gibby. We all said our farewells after unloading the truck. The 3 women planned on going up the road a little further. Andi and Gibby snapped a photo with us and trucked on.

[dviciousbikefemme]

What a strange time to be on a long term bicycle tour with the COVID-19, at large. It continues to effect economies, places, people’s livelihoods etc. I left my job, as a barista, all in good timing. I’d be out of a job indefinitely, anyway. Of course, I do want to be optimistic. One of my very best friends just bought a space for a coffee shop in Seattle and all I can say is GO SUPPORT HER. Union Coffee in the Central District. She will begin doing take out orders tomorrow on March 19th! I am not afraid of the virus so much as I’m afraid of what kind of hardships a recession will bring. I have enough money to get me through this bicycle tour. What will work look like when I’m finished? I know I have a lot of trauma and anxiety around money and I’m trying my best to let myself enjoy my time off and not worry about my funds until it is over. Over the last week these thoughts have begun to seep into my psyche and I am so, so aware of it and am looking to the sky or the mountains around me —feeling the good aches in my growing muscles to remind me that it is not so bad. I am in one of the best positions during this crisis. Looking for peace of mind.

The time in Phoenix brought me to the reality of the pandemic. Being in small towns and on the outskirts took me away from the panic. Our Warmshowers host in Phoenix brought it to our attention. We’d been staying in the guest house in his back yard, parked close to a cluster of magical cacti and cooing chickens when he asked us to share breakfast with him, his partner and friends. David and Melissa were our hosts’ names. David is a wonderful cook and works at the Trader Joe’s in town. He talked about all the toilet paper and other essentials that flew off the shelves in his store last week. Melissa teaches kids and other folks about outdoor recreation and said all of her organization’s classes were cancelled. David told us about all the cool coffee shops in town. We went to one on our way out Saturday morning and Phoenix brunch scene is still poppin’. Thursday we spent some time downtown looking at public art works. One of my favorite pieces resides in the Phoenix Convention Center titled “Arizona Beach”. We had a lot of down time, having three days off in Phoenix. I watched “Paris, Texas” for the first time and it is a marvelously shot movie full of lush and beautiful colors in contrast with scenes of the desert wastelands in Texas. Whatever its intentions, it gives an interesting observation of toxic masculinity within interpersonal relationships.

As those three days passed, cabin fever set in and Saturday morning could not come soon enough. We left knowing we wanted out of city limits and back into the mountains. We rode through Phoenix, Tempe and Mesa before arriving in the Usery Mountain region. The park turned us away as it was the end of Spring Break AND a weekend. We settled on a trailhead just a few miles past the park. Officially in Tonto National Forest, camping is allowed most places off the road. We set up the tent and and took a short hike to the top of a hill to watch the sunset. The blue sky turned to stars and things began to quiet down... or so it seemed.

[dviciousbikefemme]

[dviciousbikefemme]

This past week has been full of ups and downs. From long days in the desert to warm and quality company, we’ve been dealt a set of experiences that are unforgettable. Times have been tough. Phoenix wasn’t too inviting at first and I am thankful for the Warmshowers we ended up with last night. We will remain here until the rain is over. For those of you that don’t know what a Warmshowers is, it is a hosting network that puts long distance cyclists up in individuals’ homes for free. It’s essentially couch surfing for cyclists.

Once again, I think posting once or twice a week will be normal for me until I’m at a better cadence. Everyday is a little unpredictable and I never am quite sure where we will end up. But that’s the point and we’ve made it work so far. In so many ways this lifestyle has released a lot of anxiety and is relief from the sort of stories and assumptions I create in my head around daily interactions and subtleties. You know what I’m talking about. Mind chatter. I don’t have my therapist with me on the road but being on the road forces complete presence.

And when I’m typing these little snippets of life out, it always takes longer than I’d ever expect. You kinda rack your brain with “What do I want to share?””I want to be authentic” “Is this boring?”. This is for me as much as it is for y’all so looking back on these memories, I want to be able to connect with every flavor of feeling.

Since Ocotillo, we’ve pedaled through some major stretches. Leaving Ocotillo on the fourth day started out pleasant in the morning sun. We followed SR98 through the Yuha Desert and its interesting terrain. We paralleled the border with open skies and the mountains of Mexico on our south side. The temperature was great and I was feeling hopeful and touched from the night before. Upon exiting the Yuha, the landscape quickly changed as we drew closer to El Centro and Calexico city limits. Miles and miles of solar panels and broccoli that would never touch the small grocery stores in the very region that grows it. Small towns in the deserts are very much food deserts. You typically can find only packaged foods and meat. Vegetables are scarce and when you do run into them, they are brown and slimey. Once we reached Calexico, the traffic became heavy. There we entered SR111 where we did several miles beside semis and big box corporate stores. At the end of this 50 mile day we settled into a Days Inn in Brawley. We treated ourselves as we foresaw another long stretch ahead. Between the town of Brawley and the town of Blythe there’s about 80miles of limited resources. We wanted to be well rested for day five. That evening we stocked up on groceries and water and caught ourselves up on the Democratic campaign and Coronavirus drama.

Leaving Brawley we pushed through more agricultural land and passed by several sad lil CAFOs (concentrated animal feeding operations). This day was one of our hardest as it was roughly 65 miles and through some tough conditions. When we continued east on SR78, the landscape changed dramatically, once again. We entered into the Algodones Dunes of Southern California that would lead to the “town” of Glamis. Glamis is a town that exists seasonally. It’s a giant playground for folks with a lot of money. We saw some seriously fancy off-road vehicles in the Dunes. It’s scattered about with millions of dollars worth of trailers and RVs, dune buggies and generators. You have to see it for yourself. I didn’t quite capture this stretch in any quality photographs as it was a tough climb with a lot of sand on the shoulders, but I certainly never saw anything like it in my life. We had one guy dipped down off the road under the shade of his trailer awning, hollering up at us, wondering if we might like a beer. We politely declined with a peace sign as we thought it might be dangerous to try and slide down there. A couple miles after the friendly stranger, we dropped into the convenience store of this “town” for an ice cold cola and water refill. There I fantasized about riding around in the buggies. Sure would’ve been fun.

From Glamis on, the road conditions became worse as we proceeded down the shoulder-less 78 in high sun and head wind with cars traveling at about 65mph. Toward the end of it there were several miles in the desert full of dips in the road, making visibility very difficult for both us and for cars and trucks. I grew tired and hungry and frustrated. And with every little hill that came my way I would audibly groan a mighty groan. At about 5:30pm we reached the BLM Oxbow Campground, resting peacefully on the Colorado River. It had a very clean pit toilet but with no access to potable water. We wouldn’t reach all services again until the next day, 20 miles away in Blythe. Our moods quickly transformed from sour to sweet as we enjoyed the beautiful, cool and clear night sitting in the silence of the moonlight— silently loving, silently relieving pain and silently oozing with pride of the hard day’s work.

On Saturday morning we didn’t have much of an agenda and decided to take it easy. One of the snowbirds at the grounds asked us if we needed anything —we said YES COFFEE PLEASE. So we shared our morning with Don and Judy of British Columbia. We talked about music and the great North American landscape and the other bikers they’ve met through their years of travel. They eventually reminded us of the time and we began to pack up and head to Blythe.

Blythe was only about 20 miles out and once we arrived in Blythe we didn’t leave. We went to the Ace Hardware for some camping fuel. Outside the store we met Robin, a town local who invited us to his drinking hole that doubled as a Warmshowers host. We weren’t quite sure if we wanted to quit for the day. We went out to grab lunch (a delicious huevos rancheros!) and discussed what to do next. We wanted to check this Warmshowers out before completely dismissing it. It is located at the B and B (beer and bait shop) a couple of miles outside the main stretch. Upon arrival, we were greeted with ice cold Coors Lites... and another round... and another round... and another... and then we bought a round... and before we knew it we were setting up our tent behind the shop and getting a car ride to the grocery store. The property holds the shop, a few trailers with residents and a rescue goose named Lucy. We had a wonderful afternoon with a handful of kind folks and colorful stories. One man told us of “transporting bodies”. He’s rotated his work between being a medic and working in the prison system. Scott, on the other side of the table, was witness to a completely different set of experiences. He is a former addict and was incarcerated for several years. This group of sweet people spoke of the man, Wayne, that started the communal property and his love for everyone that came through. Warmshowers has been running there for 10+ years, still thriving, even after he sold the property to take care of his sick wife. I was touched by one of the community members that approached Bobby and I while we were setting up camp saying “Blythe is the armpit of CA. We feel forgotten about, but we do have each other here. We want you to feel comfortable and at home. Whatever is ours is yours and if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. We rely on one another in this town”. We felt grateful to have passed through Blythe and crossed such heart warming folks.

On Sunday morning, we rose early in the dark with the time change. We spent a lot of time going east on the I-10 that day. We met a couple of cyclists at a rest stop. One of them is from the US, the other from Australia. We expected to see them again, and the next day did at a Mexican restaurant whilst stopping for lunch. We did about 50 miles yet again and camped at Ramblin’ Roads RV Park in a place called Hope, AZ. We talked to another cycling group, this one consisting of three women from Maine. Mary chatted us up a bunch. They were not looking to stop quite yet and had a few more miles to do that day. We had a lot of time that evening so we made glorified Ramen and dug into the books we are reading. I caught up with my mama on the phone and encountered some of the cleanest showers I bathed in thus far.

Monday we trekked far into Wickenburg, our final stop before going into Phoenix. We stopped halfway for lunch and ran into both groups of women. The three from Maine goofed off and snacked on Mexican sweets in front of a convenience store. They were also heading to Wickenburg and figured we all might end up camping together. And we did that night at the Aztec Village RV Park. We had a grand time with these fine women. Noreen, the matriarch of the group, is hesitant to introduce herself to people at first and knows how she likes things. She is direct and communicates very well. I really like her— she’s very gentle and nurturing once she gets to know you a little more. She is a former Acadia National Park ranger. Working there is how she got to know Mary. Mary’s got a hankering for finding Gila monster skins and armadillo tails. Auralie (sp?) was the third and youngest of the group. Noreen met her by “shushing” her at a French film viewing. Auralie is French-American and is quite funny. She kept reminding us all that gender and time are both social constructs. Can’t say I disagree. We cooked dinner together and spoke of our adventures and about how much fun we were all having. They are a splendid group that really made me homesick for my SHRIMPS. Shrimps are the gals I bike and bond with back home in WA. Don’t ask as to why we are shrimps. We just are. That night it began to rain, it covered up the loud sound of traffic rushing by. We all woke up to wet tents. Bobby and I got an early start to Phoenix. Before taking off we said “See you later down the road” to our new cycling friends.

[dviciousbikefemme]

[dviciousbikefemme]

I suppose a some of you are wondering when this blog is going to start rolling. Well, let me tell you, this trip’s already rolling. It turns out that writing a blog while bicycle touring through small towns in the So Cal mountains is pretty tough. There is a lot of business to take care of before blogging, art making and tarot card reading.

I am learning time management and keeping-track-of-your-stuff management.

Going back to the weekend, our flight got cancelled and we had to rebook for Saturday morning. My sweet friends, Rachel and Geetu, were on standby for taking us to the airport. The flight change didn’t seem to bother them too much. I am so thankful for this care. We had a great send-off.

Because of the rebook, I decided we should stay an extra day in San Diego so as not to rush around getting our bikes built and repacking everything. I was getting over a cold and rain was expected in both San Diego and Alpine on Sunday. We decided to begin pedaling on Monday, March 2nd. My wonderful mother, whose shown nothing but support with this bike trip thing, lent us a place to stay in San Diego both nights with credit card and time share points. It made for a smooth beginning.

We did get about a half day of riding around and exploring the city on Sunday. San Diego felt really quiet with the weather being “bad” at 65 degrees and some drizzle.

On Monday we began riding to Alpine, CA. It was a very challenging first day— challenging physically and challenging emotionally. There were not a lot of friendly folks around on this first day. A lot of oversized trucks and snazzy cars loudly zooming by. A lot of weird glares from folks outside of the markets. I am probably just projecting here but I felt a lot of aggression and a lot of folks performing, what they call, patriotism. What does it mean to be patriotic? “A Trump conservative” is a campaign slogan I saw pretty frequently in San Diego county.

Through all of the climbing and all of the glares we did talk to one nice guy at the food co-op who gave us directions out of Alpine and into a campsite. He warned us of strong winds and spooky canyons ahead and even some forecasted rain in Arizona. Not to worry though, since then we’ve only had rays of sunshine.

That night we stayed at an RV park nestled away in the Viejas Reservation at the Ma-tar-awa Park. It was a treat. RV parks are great to stay in as they typically have places to charge electronics up, do laundry and take showers.

We took our time the next morning and left the Reservation around 10am. I wanted the second day to be short as most of it and the next would be a continuation of gaining elevation. On our second and shortest day thus far, we stopped for soda and conversation, learned that it is not so easy to find our camp fuel canisters just anywhere, rode about 25 miles and landed in a sage brushed campsite just east of Pine Valley. Boulder Oaks crosses with the Pacific Crest Trail so we did see a couple of hikers pass through. We enjoyed a wonderful sunset, watching the hills as they blushed with the sun’s good night kiss and retired into the tent. We woke up several times through the night with cold feet and cold noses.

Wednesday morning we woke up to frost. The temperature really dropped in this mountain valley. We were up early, struggling to pack as our hands were in pain from that cold bite. As soon as we started biking uphill, yet again, we pulled to the side of the road to change and put on sunscreen. We reached the Golden Acorn Casino right out side of our highest point of elevation at about 10:30am. Here we got a meal and talked to a few folks passing through. We then continued to climb and climb and then dipped back down again into a place on the border called Jacumba. Here we saw the wall. It gave us both an eerie feeling. We had lots of border patrol racing up and down the Old Hwy 80 as we continued out of the mountain pass. Soon we reached the I-8. Ahead would be 10 miles of strong winds and a 3000ft+ descent into the desert. It was both amazing and terrifying.

Once we exited off the freeway, we settled early into our new home away from home in Ocotillo, CA population just over 200. We biked into Jackson’s Hideaway RV Park where we were greeted by Miguel, and his promise for a meal later that afternoon. The woman who owns the park showed us the recreation room, where we ended up crashing on the couches. After dropping our stuff off, Miguel offered to drive us to the Chevron where we picked up some snacks and a few beers. He refused to let us pay. We went back and showered off, unloaded and talked to another park resident, Pal, a retired art teacher from Kansas City, Missouri. After some time passed, Miguel came knocking on our door and asked us to join him for dinner. Miguel is temporarily residing in Ocotillo as his work moves him around the Southwest. His job, you may ask? He is working to build the border wall- a man from Mexico. A man who drives into El Centro, CA once a week to send money to his wife and stepchildren has been contracted to build the wall. He says it pays really well. I didn’t have to ask too many questions as he was happy to share a love for this life, even through the suffering. He boasted of his good meals and family longevity. He shared with us grilled chicken breasts, his grandmother’s bean recipe, his wife’s homemade salsa as well as her tortillas (he keeps a pack of frozen ones for every time he goes to visit). He gifted us a pineapple for when we are thirsty. This man’s generosity and kindness overwhelmed the both of us. At departure, we laughed, exchanged contact information and hugs. I hope to talk with Miguel again and share with him our journey.

And here I am at 7:42am on March 5th telling y’all about it. We will begin our fourth day after a cup of coffee and some bike maintenance.

[dviciousbikefemme]

TOP ~ on a tour around the Olympic Peninsula, Washington BOTTOM ~ my pals and I during our Painted Hills, Oregon weekend get-away 

[dviciousbikefemme]

reflecting on what the heck I’m about to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon

Hi, I’m Danielle. Or you can call me D. Originally from Louisville, KY metropolitan area I became a bicycle commuter when the last car I owned broke down in 2014. A year after graduating college, in August 2016, I moved to Seattle, WA for a fresh start and new perspective. It is there where I found my love for bicycle touring. 

So many paths and choices I have made brought me here today. I am now less than 2 weeks out from embarking on a 3.5 month long bicycle tour across the United States. I will begin in San Diego, CA and end in Holden Beach, NC. In mid-June, my mom, siblings and other family members will be in NC, vacationing. That’s determined the final destination. This was originally planned as a solo trip. Since the idea sparked, friends have toyed with plans of riding small stretches with me along the way. My 19 year old brother even considered meeting up with me and riding. I don’t know who will be making it out at this point, but I do know that my sweet, tender-loving partner has decided to join me on this adventure. He is fairly new to cycling, but rarely a complainer. I’m so enthralled with this idea of leading him across the country in a way that makes me feel empowered and free. I can only hope he is overcome by the same amount of joy and wander that cycling brings to me.  

There are countless amounts of people that have come and gone and remained in my life-- who’ve influenced and supported me along the way. My gratitude is immeasurable. It brings me to tears to think about the last few years here in WA-- highs and lows, alike. Washington has become home. Washington blossomed the love affairs that are with the Earth and with myself. I’ve been stirred in ways I’ve never felt before. Moving away from my home of origin, for the first time in my life at age 25, was incredibly crucial for self-discovery, conscious growth and healing. The flood of emotions I get when reflecting on even the last 5 years of my life are complicated and messy and full of a whole lotta not knowing what the heck I’m doing. I’m only better for it. This process is a lifetime and I am actively seeking more self-worth, love and empowerment. I have the privilege to move about in this world with a mobile, white and cis-gendered body. I acknowledge and I am thankful for the economic privilege I have to do this trip. As a service industry worker, it is truly great that my job allowed me to pay on my student loans, pay rent and save for this tour. Riding a bicycle has been vital to all of the things I am learning about myself. The challenges that come with touring have boosted my confidence exponentially! Bikes hold a special space where I’ve allowed both failure and resilience to take place. I hope you enjoy this roller coaster (or bike ride) of EMOTIONS..

I just wanna say~~~I am using this blog as a diary of sorts AS WELL AS a fun way for you to follow me across the country.  I am practicing vulnerability, as it’s never been my strong suite. It is something I am consciously working on and I am taking baby steps. You will certainly be reading information and viewing photos of art and the landscape I encounter BUT you’ll also have the option to witness a lot of feelings.  I don’t think I have the most organized brain. I want to thank you ahead of time for sitting through the scattered thoughts and streams of consciousness. Maybe by the end of this trip I will learn to make my posts a lil neater. <3