In the fall of 2001 Rachael and I took a bicycle tour from Firenze to Dubrovnik. One of our overnight stays was in Orvieto, which astonished us when we first viewed it rising above the valley as we approached it from the northwest; andonce more when we visite its extraordinary cathedral. For years we thought it was the most magnificent cathedral we'd ever seen (that distinction now lies with the Monreale cathedral in Sicily).
Our memory of Orvieto has always been colored though by world events - we were in the city on 9/11, when the twin towers of the World Trade Center came down. That evening we were eating dinner, puzzling over a party of American cycle tourists across the room who looked agitated and traumatized. Imagining perhaps a tragic event within their group and not wanting to intrude, we only speculated. The following morning we looked at the front page photographs and headlines of the Italian newspapers in disbelief. Now, whenever I think of Orvieto, 9/11 is always the first thing that comes to mind.
I suspect our ride to Silver City will live in our memories in a similar way. It is the town where we sat in a brewpub, watching election returns with the dawning realization that we are not living in the country we had thought were in. I imagine I'll always have to process that memory first before remembering the ride itself.
A few words about the ride though. It was an arduous one, primarily because of the wind. After several still, sunny days in a row the winds returned. The blew constantly from the east-southeast, at about 20mph. As we were traveling east-northeast, this meant that for most of the day we were riding against a strong wind that at its least unfavorable was a direct sidewind. Hard going, but we felt very fortunate. If conditions had been like this yesterday, we would have faced over twenty miles of direct, strong headwinds.
The ride began as yesterday's ended, with a long, straight stretch of highway through the nearly barren Sonoran Desert. For over an hour we pedaled gradually uphill, against the wind and across the plain, hoping that we'd find some relief when we reached the distant hills. We did. some.
The climb finally summited at the Continental Divide, after which we rolled along at about 6,000' against a cold sidewind before we finally began the drop to Silver City. By the time we reached Silver City I was well knackered, the most tired I've been since the first day of the tour.
Silver City is a transition point. It's the end of our 11 day ride from Tucson. Once we arrived in town we headed to the rental car agency to collect the rental we had on reservation. For the rest of this short tour we'll take a series of day rides as we work our way back west to Tucson and our flight back to Portland.
Leaving Lordsburg on Highway 90, biking northeast to Silver City. There is a strong crosswind this morning that makes riding difficult. If we can just make it into those hills, maybe we'll get some shelter from it.
Stopping for a few minutes to celebrate our accomplishments thus far. Still wrestling with the wind, not yet in the hills, but at the quarter-done point of the ride.
This appears to be winterfat, thanks to William's identification assistance again. I don't recall seeing this plant before, and it was completely isolated here. Maybe now that I'm aware of it I'll start seeing it elsewhere. Its strange name comes from the fact that it is an evergreen and a foraging source for grazing animals in the winter.
Now, we're cooking! Almost at the halfway point, in the hills, and at what we thought at first was the summit. Not true though - it's just the first of three or four false summits. Still windy, but at least a bit variable now. Well, not cooking exactly - it's starting to feel a bit cool up here near 6000'.
Lunch stop under the shade of a juniper, trying to get a break from the cold wind. Thought I'd take a picture of just the bikes today, rather than another lunch shot of Rachael hidden in the shadows.
Watching the world as we knew it come to an end at the Little Toad Creek Brewery. At the moment a different outcome still seems probable, but the room is starting to feel somber.
