WICKENBERG, ARIZONA: Where A Long Day Has Mercifully Ended

March 12, 2018

Alas, there were no wildlife sightings. It was my first "loss" on my high stakes bike tour, but at least the loss was offset by the beauty and peacefulness this desert setting. However, don't think for a minute that I've given up hope on seeing wildlife at some point on this trip.

As soon as I got back to civilization, I saw there was a message on my phone from my wife, The Feeshko. There was an urgent family medical crisis and she wanted me home as soon as possible. I told her I was still three days away from the nearest airport (Phoenix) and she told me to make it in one day. We compromised on two days.

At some point I may write about the crisis on these pages, but I'm not ready to do that yet.

All I knew was that I had to start racking up some miles. Adreneline from the bad news carried me the next 50 miles with relative ease. I waved at three other bike tourists along the way, but I was not in the mood for chatting. So much for the human interaction I referred to yesterday.

My goal for the day was Wickenberg. It would be a ride longer than anything I've done in quite a few years, but I do possess a determined mind. I pedaled like crazy under the hot sun to reach my goal. Twenty-five miles before Wickenberg, fatigue set in. Then I got a f---ing flat tire. I just didn't need a flat at that time. Add frustration to the fatigue. I performed the tire repair and got going again.

Before I get into what happened next, I should probably display a few pictures.

This was one of the nicest sections of Highway 60. It was a climb of about two miles to a pass that was actually named. (Granite Pass)

Most of the landscape today looked more like this. These plants extended as far as I could see.

Everything has thorns around here. Be careful when you venture into the desert to urinate.

A couple of yuccas mixed in with the sea of bushes.

A very large conglomeration of prickly pears.

Thank goodness the last nine miles into Wickenberg were all downhill. I got a little cocky taking this shadow picture at high speed.

Fatigue is one thing. Frustration and cockiness are a couple more things. They can all be overcome. Bodily injury is another thing altogether. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I made it all the way to Wickenberg. Now all I had to do was find a motel. I really NEEDED a motel. A bike trail on the north side of Highway 60 brought me almost downtown, but then it ended abruptly. I moved back onto the busy highway. This is where the fatigue started effecting my normally half-way decent cycling judgement.

To escape the heavy four-lane traffic, still flying downhill, I hopped up onto the sidewalk. The next second, seemingly out of nowhere, a streetlight pole was right in front of me. I didn't have time to brake, so I tried to squeeze through the narrow space between the pole and the curb, hoping to prevent a fall into traffic. I also instinctively leaned my body into the pole--and my bike away from it--to protect my panniers from getting ripped off the rack.

The bad part of my maneuver was that the back of my shoulder hit something on the pole dead on. I was momentarily stunned and, despite my efforts, I flew off the curb and into the traffic. Yet, somehow I managed to maintain control. A big THANK YOU goes out to The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong for his role in preventing a truly life threatening crash.

It turns out that the sleepy desert town I expected was an old west town with quite a history. Wickenberg has lots of tourism and the first two motels I came to had no vacancy. I probably would have gone into a major depression if I couldn't find a place to stay after a day like this. Fortunately I got a room at the Super 8. (A very nice Super 8, by the way.)

I got to my room and prepared for a shower. In the mirror I noticed a big, blood-stained hole on the shoulder of my shirt. I was afraid to look at what was underneath. Even though there was no pain or spurting blood, it only took one look and I knew it was Emergency Room time. Luckily for me, the Super 8 was only a few blocks from a hospital. I got on my bike once again.

The nurses seemed to think I was a little dehydrated, so they hooked me up to a bag of fluids.

Here's the deal: The gash in my shoulder ripped into muscle and almost to the bone. X-rays revealed no skeletal damage. They injected me with novocaine, spread the wound wide, and throughly cleaned and disinfected it. It took four stitches to put the muscle tissue back together, then ten regular stitches. I did not look at any of those procedures. Sure, I'm a tough guy, but I didn't want to be a passed-out tough guy.

I'm not relating this story and posting these pictures as some kind of sensationalistic reporting. Nor am I trying to elicit any sympathy. I don't need sympathy, nor do I want sympathy. (If you really want to have sympathy for me, go back to the first three or four pages. The sickness I had was worse than this.) And believe me, this shoulder thing wouldn't stop me from continuing my journey. I'm a tough guy. I just have other things to deal with right now.

I didn't get out of the emergency room until 8:00. I rode my bike to the motel in the dark and started writing that which your are now reading.

Today's ride: 98 miles (158 km)
Total: 477 miles (768 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	5
Comment on this entry	Comment	0