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...