Day 4: Desert View to Bright Angel: The Wife is Calling

May 21, 2015

Note: Here concludes Stone's labored third-person account of the journey to the Grand Canyon.

At their semi-stealth site beyond the edge of the Desert View campground, the boys made it through the night without being trampled by herds of indignant elk. The temperature apparently never dropped to freezing, but they awoke to a chilly, overcast morning.

After quickly and quietly packing up and leaving one of Stone's bicycle cards on the French-Canadian couple's three-wheel Can-Am at the emergency overflow site—no sign of the helpful couple or anyone else so early in the day—the boys made their way to the Desert View center. The snack bar wasn't open yet, so they spent a few minutes siphoning electricity from the handy dual outlets near the door. Soon enough they acquired breakfast and cups of hot caffeine plus bananas and extra grub for later in the day.

"Have a Grand day!" the cheery cashier recommended.

When they pulled out of Desert View around 8:30, hardly a soul was stirring. The campground contained only fifty sites, so any other visitors would need to drive all the way from Cameron or Grand Canyon Village or points more distant. That mean the rim road, without much of a shoulder, was almost free of traffic. Nevertheless, the boys—riding close together—quickly implemented a safety-conscious call-and-response routine for monitoring motorized vehicles approaching from front and rear. This enabled them to take the lane most of the time, but provided plenty of margin for sliding over to the white line whenever necessary.

Despite favorable riding conditions, progress remained slow. Why? Because the rim road ran right along the edge of the canyon, with view after view of the spectacularly layered geology on display, giving the boys front-row saddles for the scenery. Despite the overcast sky and murky lighting conditions, the Grand Canyon lived up to its name. In the rather gloomy morning, the canyon looked like an extraordinarily beautiful woman who needn't bother to apply her makeup so early in the day.

At every spot along the road, both named—Navajo Point, Lipan Point, Moran Point, Grandview Point—and unnamed, the riders paused and raised their cameras in a frenzy of pixel capture. In retrospect, the images would probably have proved more impressive in brighter daylight, but the boys were smitten with the endless beauty of the panorama even in cloudy conditions.

As for the route, the general trend from Desert View remained downward despite an occasional uphill. Sometimes the sun would peek out for a few minutes, then disappear. The boys adjusted riding garb fairly often, hoping to strip down as the day warmed up. Every time Stone contemplated pulling off his utility pants, the riders zoomed a fast, chilly downhill and he changed his mind. Likewise, on multiple occasions jackets came off and went back on.

Several encounters reminded the white beards how heavily loaded rigs serve as ice breakers. While lunching at a dirt parking area along the road, the riders met three hikers from Flagstaff who stopped to chat awhile. Farther along, they spotted a rider on a loaded touring bike approaching from the west. This turned out to be crazyguy Austin Grady, recently returned from riding South America and Cuba, and now pedaling his way toward Colorado. On the side of the road at Pipe Creek Vista, the boys were double-teamed. A mountain biker engaged Whitworth while a young Canadian girl with a bicycle jammed into her compact Toyota ran over to inspect the touring bikes. "My baby's daddy is a bike messenger in Montreal!" she exclaimed.

While conversing at Pipe Creek, Stone mentioned he was from Santa Rosa.

"Where?" asked a middle-aged couple who just happened to be passing by at that moment on rental bikes.

"Santa Rosa, California," Stone clarified.

"No," they explained, "Where in Santa Rosa?"

"Oh, I live in Rincon Valley."

The couple on rental bikes laughed. "We live across town in Roseland."

At Pipe Creek Vista the boys picked up the paved multi-use Greenway trail that parallels the rim road from Yaki Point all the way to Bright Angel Lodge. This allowed the LHT's to remove themselves from thickening motorized traffic and cruise peacefully into the visitor complex near Mather Point.

After a quick stop at Bright Angel Bicycles and Cafe—mostly a bike rental shop—the boys set about the task of finalizing plans for a rendezvous with their senoritas and—just as importantly—their automobiles. As usual, Stone's AT&T network proved to be missing in action, but Whitworth managed to latch onto a Verizon signal. The ladies, who apparently had been having more than enough fun for themselves without the boys around, seemed to be playing hard to get, but in the end the boys and the senoritas established contact at the Bright Angel Lodge where a round of celebratory refreshments was definitely in order for one and all.

The boys had reached journey's end, but memories remained etched with every road, every mile, every up, every down, every breeze, every view, every face, and every moment of the ride.

Conditions

Distance: Approximately 27 miles, 8:30 - 3:00

Up: Approximately 1200 feet

Down: Approximately 1800 feet

Weather: Chilly to cool.

Home for the night: Williams

Here are the motorized vehicles of the French-Canadian couple who agreed to share the "emergency overflow" site with us last night.

RJ dozes and stockpiles electricity from handy outdoor outlets while we wait for the snack bar at Desert View to open.

The LHT's and the canyon under overcast morning sky.

Whitworth is pretty bundled up this chilly morning.

Stone—apparently in stealth mode—is also wearing extra layers, including utility pants over his shorts.

Morning postcard of the canyon and the Colorado River.

The Surly dreams of a dirt-biking trip down to the river and up to the north rim.

RJ gazes across the canyon.

The farther we ride along the rim, the deeper and more spectacular the canyon becomes.

Layers of clothes and layers of geology.

We stopped to snap photos at every pull-out, vista, viewpoint, overlook, side road, and parking area.

Take a million photographs, and at least one or two should come out half decent.

The Surly and the canyon.

The bikes and the canyon.

The LHT's got us here, so they deserve some credit.

The boys have peeled down for the moment.

By now these jerseys might be a bit odoriferous.

(Photo by unsuspecting tourist)

Whitworth wonders if Stone will ever put down the damn camera.

Another stop. Another view. Another photo.

RJ exhibits some exuberance about the spectacular scenery on display.

Or perhaps the caffeine just kicked in.

Realizing he had thus far taken no selfies, Old Grumble-Face determined to rectify that oversight.

Every journal—even one written in third-person—needs at least one selfie.

After personally testing this location in the pines along the road on the south rim, Old Grumble-Face would like to officially place it in nomination as the outdoor restroom with the best view in North America.

Not many picnic tables along the road, so the boys decided to check this out.

RJ seems strangely exhilarated about the prospect of encountering a cougar.

Lunch stop on a log in a dirt parking lot.

I think half of a Clif bar might have been consumed here.

Lunch stump.

Whitworth proves how difficult stealth urination can be while wearing a hi-viz jacket.

Shortly after I snapped this photo, three ladies from Flagstaff sauntered down the trail.

From the east a rider was approaching on another black Surly Long Haul Trucker.

While RJ and I were snapping photos, we met crazyguy Austin Gradyheading from LA to Colorado. For this tour he spent some time riding in South America, then Cuba, before flying back to the US.

Austin rides with his phone connected to a speaker mounted under his handlebars, and rolls along to the accompaniment of music.

See also: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com...

Old Grumble-Face rumbles down the rim road toward Mather Point, the visitor center, and Grand Canyon Village.

There he goes.

Another view of the Surly and the canyon as the afternoon starts to brighten a little.

Frances ("call me Frankie") from Montreal is traveling around the US with a bicycle stuffed in her little Toyota. She rushed over to meet us and excitedly examine our bikes.