Raven's Roads
Living an interesting life: the travels and musings
of motorcycling author Linda R. Moore

May 4, 2005

The prettiest roads

Filed in Landmark-Hunting, Motorcycle Road Trips, Raven's Roads 2005

I rode 250 miles on the prettiest roads I’ve seen in a long time. They captured my imagination and attention entirely. I’m exhausted now, though, because twenty of those miles were horrible.

The first road I took was route 70 through Lordsburg, where I stayed last night at an independent motel. I now wish I had got off my bottom and ridden the mile or so into downtown Lordsburg; there wasn’t much to it, but what there was was historic and worth a wander. Oh well.

After a comparison of relative gas prices at the local station (my brother reported spending 91p (about $1.50) a LITRE the other day - I haven’t done the maths but I think that must be at least $12/gallon), I was on my way. Route 70 (*) is a fast two-lane road which stretches out into the most amazing desert. First you get this green layer where there are tall yuccas lining the side of the road; further out it tends to be flatter ’cause it’s been grazed. Then you climb a bit and end up looking at intriguing, knobbly rock formations…the whole day I was rising and falling from as high as 4600′ to as low as about 2000′. I was spellbound and it was beautiful, but I didn’t get any chances to stop.

Before I knew it I was crossing into Arizona with a bit of a pang, sad to be leaving New Mexico. Not long afterwards I descended down to a tiny place called Franklin (*) where I met some very special people and chatted for a long time. It is in these tiny places that one meets the best people and these conversations which makes the whole thing worthwhile.

I was happy as a clam in a clambed. (*)

The scenery changed and I rode alongside giant cacti. At one point there was a hill covered in them and I gawped. (*) Those things were at least 20′ tall - I could never get my bike safely up against one (there were many lay-bys but none with the cacti just there, and I am still very leery of riding much on gravel, especially in the middle of a moderately remote area where I might not be able to get help.)

Historical markers in Arizona are infuriating! They put up these signs “historical marker” on the OPPOSITE side of the road where you’re riding. As the speed limit is 55 mph to 65 mph you’re past the things before you even think about stopping…on the few occasions when they were on my side, the markers were on the OPPOSITE side!

I finally got to one in time and photographed it smugly and copiously. I include the washed out picture to a) show you what a spaceman I look like and b) to ask if anyone has a clue why my self-timer is wiping out the exposure in this way.

I got to a second marker - an official state-shaped one this time - and gingerly rode on dirt to snarf “Geronimo”. It seemed absolutely perfect. (*)

I then rode through the beautiful Apache reservation, letting countless cars and trucks pass me as I gawped at the amazing landscape and cacti.

Route 70 becomes route 60 at Globe, and almost immediately the landscape changes. 60 is more of a challenging ride, taking you up into the canyon
with many curves (but no hairpins). There are great sandstone cliffs, red in hue, and vistas from time to time over the valleys. Nowhere safe to stop. This is where I got my first ten terrible miles, when the entire road seized up and stopped. What they had done was closed a ten mile patch of one lane for resurfacting, and they let people through in huge chunks…each vehicle had to pass and then it was our turn…and then we got stuck behind slow gravel trucks. I think we were laid up for at least twenty minutes but it’s impossible to tell; time is so elastic.

After this there was an area with a high bridge over a deep canyon, the kind of bridge that gets onto postcards, and fantastic stacks of stone. There was a tunnel, and then a steep descent, and nowhere did I feel I could stop, since I thought I was still part of the traffic and had to keep going. (I was wrong, but realised too late.)

At Florence Junction, 60 became freeway, and I went through Mesa, thinking that I would be able to find a place to rest. Everywhere else the placards by the roadside had advertised where lodgings were. Not so here. I was through Mesa, into Tempe, and then suddenly I was in thick, heavy city traffic at the end of a long and tiring ride, when 60 becomes I-10. To make matters worse, there had been a bad accident ahead and the traffic was stop-start. I sat there and overheated. My bike stalled only once, but fortunately decided not to conk out in the middle of the stationary, six-lane freeway. Blesshislittlerubbertyres.

Eventually I figured out where to leave, when 60 breaks off from the freeway. I took the first exit where I could see motels, since Phoenix also assumes you know where you are going to stay that night without help. I pretty much staggered into the motel, feeling exceedingly ill by this point, and yet after copious drinks of water and salty food, I am starting to recover.

Tomorrow I hope to ride about 200 miles to Lake Havasu City, where I will meet some more Very Special People. Hopefully I will get there before the mercury reaches 90. (I left at 8 this morning; will probably do the same tomorrow.)