I'm getting behind, so this could be a pretty brief journal entry. The day began with a walk down the street to the High Desert Market and Cafe for a great breakfast of spinach quiche, granola and yogurt. We also picked up a couple of sandwiches for the road because we weren't certain of finding anything along the way today.
Soon after rounding the bend from our motel, we come to the real historical downtown. It's clear that we should have saved some time to explore Bisbee, be cause there's a lot to see. It's the first community we've cycled through since Tuscon that leaves me wishing we had planned another day for.
We have a fairly long ride today, and we're planning a short side trip to Whitewater Draw, a wildlife refuge that claims a wintering population of 20,000 sandhill cranes, something I'd love to see. First though we have to allow some time to gaze across the spectacle of the immense open pit copper mines that begin immediately south of town. It's pretty remarkable how quickly on them - within just a few hundred yards of the last houses and we're wheeling through ochre mine tailings. No matter how you feel about the environmental impact or mining politics of old mines like this, they have certainly left behind a spectacular legacy.
Dropping through the mines, just outside of Bisbee
One of the three vast open pit copper mines south of Bisbee. I like this shot because it shows how close to town the mines were. Downtown is the white patch at the center of the central vee.
From the mines we coast southeast for a few miles, dropping southeast and out of the Mule Mountains on Highway 80. It's a fast, pretty ride, on a surprising road that feels like it was built backwards: the driving lane is chip seal, but the shoulder is smoothly paved. Doesn't seem right somehow - it's like it was accidentally optimized for bicycles.
We're cycling into a mild headwind, which makes us happy - soon we turn off on Double Adobe Road and travel east. We continue dropping until we bottom out at The southern end of Soda Springs Basin on Central Highway, and head due north. For the next 30 miles we follow an arrow line through the basin, upwind and almost imperceptibly gaining elevation.
At McNeal, we pull off onto a dirt road for a mile, and bike to Whitewater Draw. No cranes. Another couple is there and confirmed they're around, but that they all disperse across the huge basin during the day. Back to the highway.
A few more miles, and we come to tiny Elfrida, which has a few small restaurants, a tiny store, and a tiny post office. We grab dinks from the tiny store and sit in the shade on a wall in front of the post office and eat our sandwiches.
Heading southeast on Highway 80, dropping out of the Mule Mountains
Looking west at the Mule Mountains from the Central Highway. This is a huge, flat basin. We followed this road straight north for about 30 miles, with virtually no change in elevation.
After lunch we're still heading north on the Central Highway, which soon merges into Highway 191. We pick up a bit of traffic, but very little; and it's so quiet that we can hear them approaching from a half mile away. Finally we come to the junction with Highway 181 and turn east toward the base of the Chiricahua Range, with still another 13 miles to go until reaching our B&B.
The weather has been deteriorating as the day progressed, and we're starting to see patches of rain coming to ground in the distance. We're on an absolutely barren road so we start becoming anxious about our exposure. If it rains, it's likely to rain hard; and there is no prospect of cover in sight. Sure enough, about halfway to our room the rains hit; but miraculously it's beside a mare house in the middle of nowhere, the only shelter we've seen for miles. We hide out there, watching it pour around us, and soon it passes on.
Still following the Cental Highway, we were surprised to find several vast cotton fields.
Cotton, baled and waiting for shipment. We were later passed on the highway by several large semis with a single bale completely filling the container.
Heading east on Highway 181 toward the base of the Chiracahua Mountains. The clouds have been steadily building all day, and we're seeing patches of rain fall in the distance. With ten miles to go yet and no shelter in sight, we start getting anxious.
Refuge! Five miles from our lodging it starts raining, just as we are passing an old abandoned warehouse - the first shelter we've seen in miles. We gratefully huddle here for about 10 minutes, and then the downpour moves on.
We continue in, happy to be mostly dry, hoping to stay that way. It's all very beautiful though - the sky is dramatic, and the alternating gloom and sunny patches make a wonderful affect. When we arrive at our B&B (of which we'll say more later), it's a true oasis in the wilderness. Within a few minutes of arrival, the rain breaks out in earnest, accompanied by an exciting electrical storm. I know of few more satisfying feelings than arriving dry, just before the deluge.
At sundown, after the rains stop for a bit, we walk out to look at the sunset. We've seen some great sunsets and sunrises on this trip already, but this is really unbelieveable. Wraparound red, different in all directions. It's changing so rapidly that I can't decide where to aim the camera and can't take photos fast enough. Within 10 minutes it's done, and darkness sets in.
Refuge! Five miles from our lodging it starts raining, just as we are passing an old abandoned warehouse - the first shelter we've seen in miles. We gratefully huddle here for about 10 minutes, and then the downpour moves on.
Dos Cabezas looks ghostlike and snow covered in the distance. Must be a lighting trick from the stormy sky - compare this to a photo of the same mountain in tomorrow's entry.
Arriving at Dreamcatcher B&B, an oasis in the wilderness. Just in time, too. Rain arrived within minutes, and we enjoyed a thunder and lightning show into the evening.
I wish this photo was clearer, but it's enough to remind us of the incredible sunset. It was red and wild in all directions, and for a brief moment there was this rainbow dropping vertically from the sky.
