"Frankly Scarlett... they don't give a damn!"

Well... it's been little more than a week.  In that time frame, I've closed up shop in Glendale, packed my meager carry-on possessions along with a few bits I was bringing back for the girls, including a DUCK DYNASTY calendar for my friend Mike (Big Fan), and a couple of used brake light switches for his son, Chris.

I personally have never seen the show because as some of you know... we have Bell Satellite television with 5000 channels, none of which are any good/interesting/useful/entertaining or worth the price of admission to watch.

Bell... minus 1
Net Flix... plus 9.9

My return trip was truly a flyer's nightmare.  Super Shuttle did great, showed up on time, delivered me to Terminal 4 in short order, from there it was pretty much all downhill.  I'd printed boarding passes for my two flights home, and arriving at Air Canada's Phoenix Sky Harbor counters, I was greeted by about two hundred people that seemed somewhat perturbed and maybe irritated waiting in line in a haphazard manner.


A short while later, one of the male AC attendants stands on the luggage platform and hollering through cupped hands informs us their "computers are down!  For those of you without checked baggage and with pre printed boarding passes, proceed directly to the gate."  After a long walk, a bite to eat and spending only a very short delay in security where I removed my laptop, shoes, belt, keys, underwear (just kidding, I wasn't wearing any) and then was lucky enough to be "scanned" like some pork chops at Safeway, I arrive at Gate 26.  To find, the flight is delayed.  I look outside, it's a beautiful day, nary a cloud in sight, and we are already delayed.  I wonder if it has anything to do with the "computers being down?"

I find an empty seat at Gate 24, where AC is scheduled to depart soon to Calgary and wonder if I shouldn't be taking that flight instead.  Names are being called over the loudspeaker system, no standing on a counter here.  Of course you haven't a clue what is being said.  I thought I heard 'Simon' so I made my way over the the counter along with about 20 people before me, and that many more behind, only to find my boarding pass is inadmissible. She wants to send me back to the AC counter downstairs about 3 blocks walk distant.  That would mean having to stand at the counter where the computers are probably still non functional and then having to go through security to be scanned once again!

It takes me awhile to convince the frustrated attendant to just scan my bar code from the printed sheet I am carrying in my hands, and finally, I think because the cue was getting longer with irate customers, she relents.  Lo and behold... it doesn't fry the system, no planes fall from the sky, and we are good to go!

Except the plane is further delayed...

Calgary, which was scheduled to leave a half hour later than my T.O. flight boards and departs, as I sit along with a couple of hundred other passengers, gathering dust. 

No explanation...

Eventually the call for boarding begins but by this time the staff seems oblivious to our plight and they do not indicate who is boarding and when.  Now, it only makes sense that those in the latter rows should board first, doesn't it?  It seemed like a free for all circus to me...

I'm not too worried, unlike some people with connecting flights, mine is scheduled for a 2 1/2 hour stopover before I head east to the Maritimes.

Of course by the time we are descending into Toronto, we are 90 minutes late.  This means I have to walk the long walk, get through Canada customs and complete my half marathon to gate 36B, only to find this plane is delayed by first an hour then an indefinite time as we travelers are to find out.

Given the problem I had with my boring pass in Phx, I patiently wait at the counter with several others and ask the attendant (who's first language and possibly not even her second, was certainly not English.)  Why do these company's place people that don't speak the language of the country they are in is beyond me.  I tried twice to inquire if my boarding pass was acceptable and after the third try, gave up.  She was not able to understand my question.

Boarding pass in hand; "Excuse me, I had difficulty boarding the plane at AC in Phoenix... I want to make sure my preprinted  boarding pass is acceptable?" 

Replies varied from; "yes the plane will be here in only 10 minutes" to "Please have a seat sir..."


After an hour had passed, with virtually no updates, and people crowding the counter in frustration, she was obviously distressed and announced we would now be boarding at Gate 34 rather then 36!

One hundred or so passengers follow her, me right behind in her footsteps, to the new gate which, not surprisingly is locked.  She turns and says; "They will open the gate in only a few minutes"  and then promptly disappears not to resurface until the gate finally does open... two hours later!!!

We, the people... stood there blocking the hallway for two hours without so much as seeing another AC employee or hearing any announcements or being told a thing.

When finally admitted, the same attendant who clearly, should not be working in that position fumbles through getting us aboard and we eventually leave Toronto after nearly 3 hours delay.

Not until we are on board the short haul jet, does the captain of the flight, upon hearing of our problems, offer an apology!  Not once, but twice...

Is it any wonder people have no sympathy for our national airline...

XX#!!FG...SoB, #@?!!? WTF!!!

LAST thing, I was on the New River Canyon Trail, stuck on a steep hillside, scarred with mini-canyons, loose rocks and shale, with boulders as large as a foot in diameter.  The bike was at a forty five degree angle across the trail, kinda, sorta, mostly pointed uphill, the front tire in a wash out about 4 inches deep, and the rear perched on some rocks that were not only the size of a five pin ball but none too secure.  I had to kick start the bike with my left foot while dismounted, as I supported the bike leaned over to the uphill side, holding it from rolling any farther downhill with the front brake.

My right brain was having hard time getting my left foot to do the job.

Yup. That'd be the NR canyon up ahead!

You have to understand that in these situations, I am unable to take photographs to illustrate just what a predicament I can get myself into.  I can only stop on ground where I can get the kick stand down and dismount.

The kicker is high up and even on level ground I usually put the kick stand down and perch myself on the left peg, standing, to kick.

Impossible where I now sat.

Getting started here was going to require a contortionist act, and even on my best days, I ain't no Bart Conner.

You have to give the k/s a good firm sharp prod to turn the engine over fast enough to fire.  Good thing the XT has an automatic De-compressor built into the cylinder head.  It took a few tries before I had the "right combination" of balance, throttle and muscle power to get the engine running.

Once back in the saddle again, I sat there balancing with my right foot on the uneven hillside, my left dangling with about a foot of air under it, surveying the route I would take once I got the transmission in gear and I could move forward.

I decided to start in 2nd to minimize wheel-spin on the loose surface.  It would mean slipping the clutch somewhat, but I thought it was better than spitting me off as the clutch engaged the rear tire in low, and abruptly spinning the wheel.

Beautiful scenery, dead silent, not a single decibel of any sound whatsoever.

We had a momentary 'bog' as I got the revs sorted and quickly putting my right foot on the peg, I stood up for balance immediately to lower my center of gravity.  It's a tall bike for a guy that's 150 lbs and 5'4" short!  On pavement, I only have a toe nail on the ground to balance me!

I almost stalled as my momentum built against the force of gravity on the steep incline.  To make things even more interesting, I was only about 20' away from a right hand curve that effectively blinded me as to what lay ahead.  Throttle control is everything here.

As it turned out, once past the corner, the trail straightened and leveled out about 200 yards past my initial stopping point.  It was still very rough and loose but at least I could see well ahead and no immediate hazards confronted me.



The New River Canyon follows the dry riverbed and alternately crosses it in the valleys and affords a great view of it on the hill tops.  I wasn't particularly high up at around 4000' but the trail being so narrow and steep most places, didn't allow me to build up a lot of continual momentum, and momentum is the key.

On anything questionable, I stop and go for a walk-about.

A lot steeper than it looks!

Using engine braking to assist both rear and yes... front brakes downhill and the low rpm torque and very careful throttle control going up.  Don't hesitate, don't look back, don't stop!

Even if it looks impassable, it's astonishing what the bike will climb as long as you are in the right gear and keep moving!

Steep, sandy, rutted with wash-outs and big rocks!

The track began to level out as I came upon an abandoned home stead.  Wasn't much left except for some rusted steel and a concrete foundation.  I parked under some shade, had an apple and washed it down with lukewarm water.  From here on out, the going was mostly easy stuff, just the odd wash out and of course loose terrain to contend with.  The trail criss-crossed the riverbed, the only real difficulty being the rather deep sand and gravel dry bottom. 

Another abandoned dream in the desert....

Eventually I came across an upturned rusted relic of a Cadillac, no idea how it came to be there, but certainly had for some decades.  It was shot full of holes!  I wasn't sure if that happened after it was left... or before.  Could have been some Mafia thing, with a dead body inside!  I wasn't stopping to find out.

Only relics left now.

Soon I came to a T intersection where FSR 41 met FSR 37.  For the next couple of miles, I climbed over a mountain range and had a great view in the distance of where I had left the New River Canyon behind.  The trail became a road that pretty much any high clearance vehicle (certainly on dry days) could have negotiated.  As I rode farther to the SE, I even began seeing some civilization.  Road signs, a 4X4 pick up truck with an old couple in the front seat, and pretty soon, arrived at FSR 24 (N. Seven Springs Rd).  From here it would be easy going...

Beats me... ?!  I didn't check for bones.

Just after I entered Cave Creek campground, I met a couple of guys that were around my age (we ain't getting any younger) and has a visit.  They were on KTM's and had just done a short trip up FSR 24.  They were loading their bikes on a pick-up truck and learning, I had just come across the Table Mesa (FSR 41) trail, were very interested in how that was, was it difficult, suitable for their bikes, etc.  I assured them that with those bikes, if they were experienced, they would have no problem in doing the route I'd just completed.

FSR 37, meet...

With a farewell, I was off and riding.  The route out was a piece of cake, I was able to ride at 50 mph for the first time since leaving the Black Canyon freeway 3 hours before.  Only trouble now was darkness coming up on me very quickly.  I knew I would be riding the last hour under the glow of my rather anemic headlight!

FSR 41.

Before long I was in the outskirts of the city and once across I-17, back on familiar turf.  A short stint on the Carefree highway and on into Peoria, by this time the light was gone.

Almost a superhighway compared to where I had come from!

Heavy traffic made me tense, I always feel a little vulnerable after riding all day in country where no Mercedes treads.

Down there...

It had been a long two days.  I had re-visited Crown King, made it to Prescott and having done at least part of the Senator highway, some of it in freezing temps and snow, and to top it off, the challenge of the New River Canyon, I was beaming from ear to ear.  I'd even met a fellow Hungarian!

In days I would be prepping the digs for another long shut-down and packing my carry on bags for home.

My daily rant...

OKAY, so I haven't 'ranted' in awhile.  I try to keep off my soapbox as much as possible.  Everybody is entitled to their own opinion, right? 

WRONG... you have to earn that right, and you do it by action, not simply muttering words.

We live in such a 'me me' age, especially in the Western World.  People that expect something for nothing, that dictate to their parents/kids, their employer, the girl at the grocery check-out, in the restaurant...  case in point, what's up with this selfie thing, posting your private (or not so) photos on social media, screwing the pooch in Acapulco when you told your boss you were visiting your dying mother.  Screwing around In Acapulco when you told your dying Mom, you had to work!

What's up with that stuff... I mean here's another CinP.  We've had to evict two set of renters that we inherited when we bought our building.  Shady characters staying over, damages done, cops there regularly, rent not paid on time or not at all, yet these same people are the first to complain when they think they have a problem.  You hire people to do a job and they provide lots of excuses but can't seem to get things they were hired for, done!

You know how you can tell the quality of people?  Check if they are pet owners.  Typically those people that care for our furry friends are kind, thoughtful, reliable, good natures/humored, helpful, caring and a hundred more positive things.  You meet a pet owner that is not kind to his/her pet and you can be sure you wouldn't want to entrust your house keys to that person.

So, for all the people I know who provide a loving home to your dog/cat/rabbit/turtle/ferret or other... to quote a famous 20th Century icon, "may you live long and prosper"

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL  AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

The ballots are cast, the votes are in, the polls are closed!

My fall 2013 trip to Phoenix is almost in the books, so to speak.  I've been coming down to my little oasis in the Sun for 5 years now and I wanted to summarize this trip:

All scores are in percentages fyi.

Ease of easing in: 75%
After all I really haven't been here for 2 years previous with the move and all.

Bike and scooter service:  85%
Sure both batteries were dead but both machines have kick starters.

Freshly serviced and ready to Rock.

Fence: 98%
New too bad the gate was cut too long.  It took nearly 2 months to have it shortened.

Think I need a mower?

Scooter use:  99%
Great for trips around a 20 km radius.  Will haul 4 bags of groceries and whatever fits on the floorboard between my legs.  Only problem was a gang plug that came loose on the rectifier and I blew nearly every bulb on the machine.  New battery made things easier too.  One cross city trip that put me in the saddle for 5 hours was a highlight.

Adventure scooter in Apache Junction.

Bike use: 85%
Still plagued with low rpm probs and the odd mis-fire.  Had the right hand carb manifold separate and put the XT out of commission for a week prior to leaving.  New parts including tires and gearing should make things more pleasant next year.

Malfunction at the junction.

Weather: 85%
One week with 2 days of rain followed by several days of coolish (for here) temps brought the score down.

Rides:  97%
The scooter day trip highlight and the many loop trips including some very challenging riding on the XT were highs.  I finally closed several routes loops that I have wondered about for years.

On the trail.

Just another abandoned homestead, fixr upper anyone!

Taking care of business:  90%
I got my legal work done, paid taxes, bought some Christmas presents and got a "new" old bike, one that I will be able to ride longer distances on and besides, its funky, quirky and rare... like me!

1982 Ascot 500

New experiences: 99%
From Frank Lloyd Wright, to the Outlet Mall, to riding new trails.

B-25 Mitchell bomber

Roosevelt lake from Tonto National Monument.

Companionship:  110%
Spent quality time with buddy Dave on several occasions, lots of time with neighbor Judy and her son Nathan, a couple of visits with friend Heather, and had the company of little Boo boo from the first night until the last, she having made my place her second home.  Daughter Holly surprised me with a 5 day visit, her first. I never felt lonely this time around.

Holly at FLW.

Boo Boo Licious, my loaner kitty.

                                                

                                            Overall: Most Xcellent!

New River Canyon

SHORTLY after passing through the ranch gate, I came across a Honda Element, which oddly, seemed way out of its element.  It was parked off the trail just short of a well muddied section that disappeared over the knoll I was climbing.  I didn't see anyone in the vehicle but assumed it could be a hiker or maybe lovers, who knows.

Mud pies anyone?

The next 1/4 mile was rough and very muddy.  To say I slithered down the hill would not be overstating my case.  The track rounded a corner and I came to a narrow trail that wandered down amongst some rocks with high peaks on either side.  Here I came across a middle aged man with a camera around his neck and an automatic complete with spare clips, on his belt.  I didn't particularly want to stop but he stood on the right tire track and I was trying not to fall.

For all I knew, he could have been a whacko or worse, an Obama supporter!

You take the shade when you can get it.

Turns it he was neither, just a guy out for a walk and looking for a photo op.  He told me he came across three rattlesnakes up the wash he'd just descended, and that he was the owner of the van.  I asked what the gun was for and he answered that you could never be too sure when you're out here alone.  I'm certain a smile crossed my lips.  Here I was, back in the hills on a road too rough and muddy for vehicles to transit and I come across a guy wearing shorts and a pistol!


We actually had a nice little chat.  He told me two guys on dirt bikes had gone through about an hour before me.  He knew something about bikes because he mentioned that they were 'real' dirt bikes not like what I was riding.  He asked about my bike and then said he would like to get one sometime, so he could go farther back without having to walk so much.

After farewells were exchanged I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't just the wee bit apprehensive as I made my way very slowly down into the gulley.  It wasn't until I had gone about a half mile that I came to a shaded spot and decided I needed to have a drink (of water) and strip some clothes, it was getting hotter and in these tight confined spaces, heat could build up quickly amongst the rocks with no shade.  Since leaving I-17, I'd been riding mostly in first or second gear at low speeds, not much chance to cool off.



I didn't know this route at all, only from what my guidebook told me ans as I had found out many times this trip, a book written 2 years ago may not be accurate much less one written n 1999!

Tremendous tough uphill climb, got way steeper right after this!

Around the base of this mountain and another 1/2 mile of loose steep trail!

Having ridden the Crown King Trail, one of my top three hardest off road rides ever, my trek over the mountains of the New River Canyon, would ultimately prove to be very nearly the same if not harder.

Desolate, tremendous rocky climbs and descents, switchbacks so tight a Jeep would have been hard pressed to make it around corners that dropped hundreds of feet into the canyons below, and... far more rugged than the CK.  Although CKT was a long climb, this trail I was now on would prove to be steeper by far and would tax not only my physical strength but also my resolve.

This was more open country, no trees at all, but the trail was hot, tight and demanding.

I spent much of my time climbing such inclines with loose rocks, major wash-outs, going around corners, that with each success, I would stop and take a break to catch my breath.  Drinking water, I'd sit on the ground next to the bike for some shade.

 


Huge boulders dotted the scene, rocky cliffs, with blind exits, and totally unpredictable terrain under the tires, made for a thrilling ride.  On one terrific uphill, with a sheer cliff face only feet to my right and another just feet to my left with a drop off that would have swallowed my XT whole, I was dodging rocks, trying to keep the tire from spinning out and riding over and through two foot deep gulleys.  About what proved to be half way up, I lost traction, squirted over a ditch and nearly went over the bank, only coming to a stop as the engine stalled!

Most definitely, an easy part.

I came within a quarter inch of tipping over to the left on this boulder strewn mountainside and had to bail off to the right as I laid the bike over.  No damage was done, I was able to gently let it down, but I found myself now in a major predicament.  Here I am trapped on an incline that you would have found difficult to hike, with terrible footing, deep cuts zigzagging up and down, No where to turn the bike around and with a dead engine.

Steep and rocky with very tight switchbacks.

Struggling to drag the bike a couple of feet on such loose terrain, I managed to re mount and holding myself with the front brake, which kept the bike from sliding right off the cliff, I had to fold out the high mount kick-starter and try and restart.  Honestly, it was all I could do do keep the XT upright and before I managed to start the engine, I slid a couple more feet, closer to the abyss!  My heart was pounding in my chest, I thought for a moment that this, would not be a good time to repeat my heart event from 2005!

Cliffs both up and down.

The bike with gear weighs about 300 pounds or so, probably more so, even on level ground I can't flat foot even one leg, much less two.  I'm cross ways on an incline on a trail about 6 feet wide at best, with deep washouts crossing everywhere, on loose rocks many the size of bowling balls, on maybe a 25 degree incline and a dead engine.  Only having it in low gear and with a brake on, kept me from sliding off the face.

Again take your shade where you find it.

Panting hard, my breath coming in spurts, I tried to calm myself down enough to catch my breath.  No way I could turn around and go back, it had been hard going for more than a quarter mile just on this climb alone.  My prime objective was to figure a way I could start the engine and maintain control.  Then of course, there was the problem of getting myself pointed uphill again and trying to gain traction in a place there was little.

Oh how I wished at this moment for an electric leg!  A push of a button would have been a hell ova lot simpler than balancing like a stork in this hell hole I'd found myself in. 

Brrrrr....

Private residence in Mayer

I was up early after a 10 hour day before, I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible.  Checked the temp on TV and it was only 28F in Prescott.  For those of you that don't remember anything before Celsius, that's below freezing!  I was up around 5500 feet and once on the road I would be heading down to lower altitudes.  The forecast high for the Phoenix area was mid 60's for the day, but I didn't plan a quick (?) ride down the Interstate to get there.



By the time I had packed the bike and donned every piece of clothing I had, it had warmed considerably, yup my bike thermometer showed a balmy 30!

Just before I left, as often happens, a stranger came over to chat.  Tomas was from Alaska and was looking for a place to buy in the area.  He had a big BMW GS up there and like myself was looking at extending his riding season.  No kidding I thought, wouldn't be much riding up there.

As we spoke about bikes and homes and general stuff I asked what his Nationality was.  I detected a slight accent and when he told me he was Hungarian, I switched and surprised the hell out of him I'm sure.  I mean really... the chances of running into another Magyar thousands of miles from each of our respective homes in the North country, here in a high desert community at a little roadside motel were about the same as you or I winning a lottery... twice.  On the same day!



We chatted for a bit longer but I did have to leave, and saying farewell I fired up the somewhat reluctant engine and let it warm for 10 minutes before I was ready to depart.

Crown King is a wayyyyy over them mountains!

My motel was right on route 69 and I followed it out of town filling up along the way.  Droning along the freeway until Mayer I crossed back onto gravel, retracing my route from the day before.  After my encounter with the tarantula, yesterday... I didn't realize until Cleator that I had left the lens on Macro and ruined about 2 dozen photos.

Cordes Junction was closed, I suspect Cathy has a real job somewhere, and I blew by with a wave, before heading down to the CK turnoff.  Scenery always looks different going in the opposite direction.  Feeling more comfortable I rode at a much higher pace even seeing 50 mph on the gravel road at rare times.



This time instead of taking the Maggie Mine road into Black Canyon City, I had another thought from the guide books and scooted down I-17 for another boring stretch, ever watchful of someone running up my rear with the sedan on cruise control set to 85!

Just south of Rock Springs I exited the freeway and took a map break.  I was at the entrance to Table Mesa road and this would lead me to the New River Canyon, if I wanted to take it.  By this time, the sun was out and I had dropped a couple of thousand feet in elevation and it was after all... early afternoon.  Did I have time to do this 50 mile stretch?

Like usual, my alter ego Dr. N. convinced me that "hey... you're here, ya got water and food and its warm out, and you have a guide book, go for it dude!  What are you waiting for?"  

The book told me this was a moderate to difficult route, there would be a section of about 23 miles that was more trail than 'road'.



Map put away, tires checked once more and I crossed over I-17 and within a mile came to a gate that I remembered from the guide book.  This bypassed the ranch and from here it would be trail.

Piece of cake...

I hadn't seen the Sun in nearly an hour.  Sunglasses were stowed long ago, my clear lenses taking their place providing some eye protection beyond the shield.  The temperature was dropping quicker than I was progressing.  I was climbing steadily and with each tight corner, the road got a little wetter, then muddier and then... 

Yup, here I was, shades of Switzerland, barely 10 miles from my destination and riding uphill in low or 2nd gear with snow covering first, short stretches then as long as 1/2 mile.  It was 6-8" deep in places and slick.  I suspected ice underneath where the sun does not get at this time of year.

Mud, slick as goose poop!

It ain't pretty but I rode with both feet skimming the surface, the bike dancing like a sixties teenage girl doing the twist.  I nearly tossed several times, only an outstretched leg getting me by.

and... we were still going up on the north side of the mountain.  




I took a few photos in the fading twilight, but of course as often happens on these off road excursions I favor, you cannot stop and take pictures in the worst places.  There simply is no way to park the bike for a photo shoot.

There was no choice at this point, I knew I was very close to going downhill, in a positive sense.

There are times you have to grit your teeth and grind it out.  This was one of them.  I hadn't seen another vehicle for two hours, not since Goodwin.

That's ice my friends!

From the gathering gloom, I saw a light, then a little ways on, another... then another.  Pretty soon I came across a group of beer drinking ATV riders and I knew than I had made it through.  They were well bundled up in winter gear, drinking beer on the trail-side.  Told me they had a cabin a short distance down the hill, I said I'd have the fire ready for them when they got there!  They were some surprised when I told them I was actually riding today from Phoenix and had come up the Senator!

The snow stopped and the road began to level out with less switchbacks and more open stretches where I could get the transmission into higher gears.  I came down from the mountains into Prescott, shivering, feet soaking wet, and in the dark.



The first motel I came to was full but the next one, The Heritage House was not.

There was a lady checking in in front of me and she asked if I was coming from the moon I was so heavily attired!

Prescott at last, twice defeated by the Wagoner road cut-off which the guide books had said was impassable, and nearly by the Senator, but I was here.  In a warm room soaking my tired bones in a hot shower.

I think I could have made it through from Crown King in early afternoon, that 19 miles.  Instead I'd ridden 80 more to do an end round.

Ice cold beer... ice cold day!

Next year I will close the gap that four miles to Wagoner and I will do the 19 that I missed this day.














Now... if only I can find a Pizza joint...