Day 54 - Day 55

Great sleep ... very restful night. Got up early and pushed over the Sitgreave Pass (elevation 3550') and down into Oatman. At the top of the pass I came across a small herd/flock of longhorn sheep including several big rams ... with big curly horns. It's the rutting season and several of the rams bashed headlong into each other ... the noise was like a rifle shot. Amazing ... I feel privileged to have witnessed this. The town of Oatman is an old mining village ... the main street is just like a cowboy film set ... wooden sidewalks, wild burroos roaming the street. There is a shooting at 12:00 so I'll stay to see that. Met up with Dwayne's boys and am up in his home at the moment.


Arrived into Oatman early and the place was empty ... met this wild burroo coming into town and later on in the day many of his friends joined him. The only person on the street was Cheryl, a firefighter and medic who knew Dwayne and made contact with him on my behalf. She also filled me in on what was happening in town.


The locals put on a couple of 'shows' for the public. Plenty of noise!! It's fun.


And this is what happens to the bad guys.


Dwayne Blake and the boys in their back yard.


Main St, Oatman Highway or Route 66 ... you choose the name?! Oatman was founded in 1909 and was a thriving gold mining centre ... still is ... there's an active and prosperous mine outside of town, but it's on an industrial scale. The quartz outcrops was the clue to the old prospectors that there was gold in them thar' hills! Sadly I must push on and have an easy freewheel of about 10 miles down to near a bigger Colorado River ... cycling towards Needles when I spot a laundrette. Right let me see ... powder goes in here, all the clothes pop in here, select regulo mark 5, stick in $1.25 and Bob's your uncle. It takes about 40 minutes and I never lost a single sock! In Needles now, time is about 19:00 and I'm preparing and psyching myself up for the most challenging part of the whole trip. I have to go through the heartland of the Mojave Desert to Barstow, 140 miles away. It's a two day journey and I daren't try it in the daytime ...far too hot for me ... my tactic is to travel along Interstate 40 on the hard shoulder at night. I have lights and it will be cooler but still?... I have a 2500' climb out of Needles and I only hope that the weekend traffic will be light. It's nearly a full Moon, so that will help and I'll wear a reflective vest. Hope to get half way by sunrise. Brother Paul is more worried than I am about this leg of the trip and is leaving LA to come out and meet me with suitable provisions. Great! Looking forward to seeing him. Don't expect any blogging for the next day or so until I reach Barstow ... even then I might be too tired to say much ... wish me luck, I'm nervous about this stretch. Set off in the dark and got onto Interstate 40 ... Oh! the traffic is heavy ... lots of semis ... but at least there is a clean, broad shoulder and I cautiously watch where I'm going. The road is climbing and you can see a string of pearly red lights pointing up into the black silhouette of the mountain ... it's a slog, but I'm in no rush ... 10 miles past and I see a sign for a service point 30 miles ahead. It's the very early hours in the morning and nice and cool. I need a catnap and pull over at the next exit point, lay down a groundsheet and have a sleep for about an hour. Lady Luck has her part to play ... I get a puncture in the darkness of the night on a strange road! I look over to my right and there is a service station sitting in a hollow with easy access for me if I walk down this dirt track! ... Why should that happen? The coincidence makes me think hard and has been a feature of this trip ... Scary!! Fix puncture in comfortable surroundings, get good advice from the attendant about rejoining Historical Route 66 and contact Paul to arrange a rendezvous point 50 miles up along a very remote road passing through a desolate, a scary mean looking Mojave Desert. Meeting Paul ... with him flying the Scottish Saltire was wonderful and I felt emotional. We spent time at the side of the road catching up with family gossip and decided to set up camp somewhere along this road.


Don't usually fix punctures sitting in the middle of the road.


The Sun is now high in the sky and it's very hot ... so much so that I start to feel dizzy and very uncomfortable. Part of the reason is my lack of sleep but I sense the hostile environment is taking it's toll ... and maybe the few beers too! Paul has moved on and is waiting 8 miles up the road but, for me it's time to quit. We're beside a busy Santa Fe railtrack but I don't care ... "Please, let's get the tent up and get some shade!" After sweltering in the heat Paul cooks a meal, we have a glass of wine, talk, then fall asleep ... lovely deep sleep where I don't even hear the long freight trains passing 50m away. It's not until many hours later that I'm able to attend to bicycle chores and think about moving on. I've tried to make this an unsupported cycling trip but to be honest without Paul's timely intervention this could have ended in disaster. The desert is an unforgiving place in August ... you daren't take any chances out here ... you must know what you're up against and cycle within your limits. The final act is to wait until evening and then move expeditiously up the last part of the road to Barstow. I'll be there tomorrow and nothing will stop me reaching the sea ... except maybe to spend a moment wiping away tears of humble delight. I have been a very lucky person.

Location:Oatman, AZ