March 9, 2019
EHRENBERG, ARIZONA: Where I Put Things Into Proper Perspective
I make up cycle touring mottoes as easily as politicians make up lies. I have a bunch of them, but probably my oldest one is this: "Who needs to get an early start, eh? Not me." I think I've adhered to that motto more on this trip than any previous tour. The first few days, the reason I didn't start riding early was the coldness of the mornings. The last few days, the reason I didn't start riding early was that I just didn't WANT to. I guess I'm not going to rack up any long days that way, but I'm OK with that. I want to take my time in the desert. I want to walk it as well as bike it. This is some pretty exotic territory for a mid-westerner like me.
For no particular reason, I didn't start pedaling until about 10:30 today. I stopped at a convenience store three blocks later. Then I stopped at the post office about six blocks after that. For the first time ever, I mailed some stuff home. I feel confident that I won't be needing gloves and an insulated jacket anymore. They came in handy at the beginning of the trip and I'm glad I had them, but now they're just dead weight.
Eventually I got down to some serious bike riding, which might interest the reader more than my personal quirks and minutiae.
Today's entire route was spent within the jurisdiction of the Colorado River Indian Tribes. It was by far the flattest and quietest road I've ridden on this tour. The greenest too.
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The main reason--nay, the ONLY reason--I took Highway 1 south from Parker was to take in a little bit of very sad history. The tiny town of Poston has a neglected monument honoring the 117,000 Japanese-Americans who were rounded up by the U.S. government during World War II and forcibly "relocated" to a number of prison camps, supposedly for reasons of national security.
About 17,000 of them were brought to the internment camp right here in Poston which, at the time, made Poston the second largest city in Arizona. I would imagine that this camp was particularly harsh on the internees with its 100-degree temperatures for months at a time.
It was a shameful time in U.S. history. I can't even imagine, as a U.S. citizen, being taken out of my home and imprisoned by my government just because of my ancestry. I knew this monument would be sad, but I was sad beyond belief after spending some time there and reading all the information posted on and around that awesome tower.
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It was time to go, and no true tough guy would admit to having tears in his eyes, but I will admit to feeling guilty for whining so much about being sick the first few days of my bike tour. On the grand scale of injustices to humanity, the Japanese internment makes my illness seem rather insignificant.
I continued south on The Mojave Highway into an increasingly intense sun. I could feel it burning my skin and I regretted my negligence in applying sunscreen.
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G-2 was right. It was somewhere around 85-degrees and we had been fully exposed all afternoon. In mid-summer I would normally laugh at 85-degrees, but I haven't seen that temperature in Minnesota for at least five months. When I arrived to Arizona, my skin was as white as the 9" of fresh snow my poor wife had to shovel this week. It's not so white now.
On my way to finding a campsite near Ehrenberg, I thought I spotted another bike tourist up ahead. I raced to catch up to him. As I got closer, I noticed he had a unique way of carrying his gear--plastic bags were hanging from his wrists. Turns out he wasn't a bike tourist at all. He was just riding home from the grocery store.
"Hey man, how ya doing?" I said as I passed.
"GREAT!" he replied, "How YOU doin'? You been campin'?"
"Yup, campin' and travellin'," I said.
Today's ride: 45 miles (72 km)
Total: 335 miles (539 km)
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