LIFE is a Freeway!

WELL certainly in the US of A!

AFTER realizing that my vision of the Sonoran Desert National Monument was a letdown made worse by my inability to traverse this huge desert land, I hooked up with OLD US 80 and headed north. 

I could easily have taken the much faster divided mini freeway 85, but since I'd get some of that in due course I rode the old road.  This was our (Deb's and myself) route to Baja in January 1998 when we covered almost 7000 km in 6 weeks of riding, including So Cal and the Hollywood blvd.  Gotta love that lane splitting/filtering!!!

Much of Gila Bend is run down like this not very old motel.

In more recent times while doing the Painted Rock story for Motorcycle MoJo I'd traversed this road a couple of times.  US 80 has little local traffic and except for people like myself, most take the far more modern and fast route just a few miles to my east. 

I passed a couple of solar farms, some industry and of course irrigation assisted mega farming.  The Sun was on it's way to the Pacific, I cruised at 45-50 mph in fifth gear.  I was going so slow I didn't even need to engage sixth for all but the latter part of my trip. 

There is a couple of interesting landmarks on this route the first of which is what looks like an unfinished community.  Entry is barred by a an attractive tall fence and gate, but this looks to me like something begun but never finished.  Unlike some such places, this one is well kept so obviously may yet be completed in the future. I didn't stop for photos this time I'd blogged about this about a year or so ago.  I did however stop once again at the Historic Gillespie Bridge and dam sight.

This impressive structure was once the main route for traffic of all types heading north to south.  Constructed during the early 1920's by one Frank Gillespie primarily to capture water from the intermittent nature of the Gila River, for ranching and farm irrigation use, it became a viable state highway in 1927.



After the huge  winter rainfalls of 1993, a large portion of the dam structure collapsed under pressure of the water but fortunately the bridge survived.  I pulled the 350 off onto the east side parking area in a shaded spot and went for a little walk about.  There was a sole angler beside the water canal above the bridge looking to catch a local catfish or bass.  He hailed from Minnesota, moved out west about 20 years ago.  Never regretted it he says to me. 



I wandered the area for a bit while munching on an energy bar, taking a few photos to add to my previous collection.  The sun was bright I had to shield my eyes even with sunglasses. 

If I had the time, this would be a great place to explore on foot for an hour or two.  The Gila, now only a trickle under the bridge, but home to coyotes, desert hare and other small creatures that live in this green eco subsystem the river provides.  Even in the wilds of Baja you often come across some green in a river valley proving that below the hot surface of the land, there is a channel of water running. 

Bar washed down by s few gulps of H2O and I was ready once again to hit the road.  I was still about 30 miles from my intersection with I-10, the L.A. freeway that I had to use to get me home.



Once back in Buckeye with the airport I reported on a few years back, home to a pretty impressive private collection of vintage aircraft, I saw the gate was closed this trip but in any case I had to step it up a little if I wanted to arrive home before dark.  The temperature was already dropping and the sun was low on the horizon.



I merged into traffic frantic moving east and stepped up my speed to 60 mph.  MY speedometer is 100% accurate several times I have checked against the highway shoulder radar devices.  After about 15 minutes I pulled off in Goodyear for a fill up for bike and body. I topped off the tank at the LOVE's fuel depot.  Gas per gallon on this trip hovers from just under two bucks and on up to around 2.25.

With the 350 in sight I stepped into the air conditioned Burger King and ordered up that cheeseburger, coke and fries!  I rarely eat like this any more but here I was, in southern Arizona after a trek on minor highways and even though my bike said YAMAHA and not BSA, I was still having a gas, no... not having gas, by having a gas...

 

If anything traffic was even heavier as I approached the western outskirts of Phoenix, 5 lanes including an HOV where I could have legally ridden my bike (50% vehicle occupancy required) but I stuck to the right lane as cars, trucks buses and bikes motored by me well in excess of the posted 75 limit, that is until strings of brake lights indicated some slow down or even stop on the freeway.

Eventually I picked up the 101 inner ring road and merged into very heavy traffic moving at a quick clip towards my eventual merge onto city roads.  By this time the sun was just over the horizon, it was definitely cooler, my smoked visor had been up for awhile.  I took Northern avenue all the way to 59th and the last few blocks even my sunglasses came off.  By the time I pulled into my parking spot it was twilight and by the time I got my equipment unloaded, dark. 

I'd covered 175 miles, unfortunately I did NOT get to traverse the Sonoran Desert National Monument but never the less, even a six hour day trip on back roads in southern Arizona was a welcome change to November on PEI.