Day 1: 370 miles to Santa Barbara
Day 2: 150 miles to Los Angeles
Day 3: 300 miles to Las Vegas
Day 4: 1 mile to the Casinos
Day 5: 270 miles to Williams
Day 6: 230 miles to Page
Day 7: 300 miles to Gallup
Day 8: 330 miles to Santa Fe
Day 9: 350 miles to Amarillo
Day 10: 350 miles to Oklahoma
Day 11: 150 miles to Tulsa
Day 12: 200 miles to Springfield
Day 13: 290 miles to St.Louis
Day 15: 350 miles to Chicago
It is a Canyon and it’s Grand....what else?
Riding a bike is in itself a fun thing to do. But every now and then one is happy to have some sights along the way to get distracted from the long and winding roads. When fatigue was about to set in I stopped at some “scenic pullout” as these spots are called where you’re supposed to see some beautiful sights. Many times it turns out that you just look at some old rocks. This time it was different. I pulled over and stopped. 20 seconds later my eyes were filled with tears. (no joke!) The Grand Canyon is one of the greatest works of nature I’ve ever seen. Posting the picture below is anticlimactic as there will never be any kind of document, neither written, videotaped or narrated to explain what I felt when I was there.
Caught in the rain
English people do it all the time. People on bikes too. Talking about the weather. Since I left San Francisco the weather forecast is my personal horoscope and I take it very serious every day. I became sensitive for every kind of weather information. Reading clouds is one of my favourite activities while riding. Unfortunately one can not always be lucky. I was riding towards Springfield, when I saw some clouds, that just didn’t seem right. Too dark and too big. At this point I hoped that the road will turn left or right, but that was not happening. It led me right into the dark. I stopped to adjust my gloves and to put the rain covers on the backpack and saddlebags. Actually there is no rain cover for my backpack so I took an old white (telering) rain poncho and fixed it half assed on the backpack. As I moved forward, still hoping that the rain might feel mercy for me, I heard the first drops hitting the visor of my helmet. And then it began. Storm and spray hit my face as I ride with an open face helmet – great decision, Mike- everything is grey and I felt water everywhere. My pants and shoes are soaked. When shifting gear upwards I can feel the water in my shoes running backwards to my heel, when shifting down it runs to my toes. I look down and see water coming out of the ventilation holes of my incredibly unsuitable footwear. I grit my teeth and keep on moving. Now it pours down so hard that I can’t see anything. The rain poncho on my backpack is torn to rags as it flapped too close to the exhauster and melted. I ride down the freeway like a shooting star, red bike in front and pulling a white “rain poncho”- tail right after me. Must have been a great look. 10 minutes later the sun came out again. Two hours to Springfield. Awesome!
Sir Peter
In Austria we sometimes have the phenomenon that frogs, hedgehogs and deers come across the roads. Here in the Mid-east of US are other animals to find. I found many armadillos(Gürteltiere), foxes and suricates (Erdmännchen) smashed to pieces. But mostly I see turtles trying to make a run for the other side of the road. Bloody evidences prove that they don’t succeed very often. So being a good Samaritan I stopped and picked up Sir Peter. Sir Peter is a turtle- explorer, who tried to find out what the other side has to offer. After all the grass might be greener over there. By the way don’t ask why his name is Sir Peter! I just made it up. Sir Peter took a little ride with me on the route 66 (to the other side of the road) and really enjoyed it. Keep on exploring the other side, man!
Acoma Village
Many native Americans live in national Reservations, which are self governed and self organised. So do the Apaches, the Comanches and the little tribe of the Acomas. I visited the Acoma village to see what is going on there. The first sign of Acoma village greets you with the words: “Attention visitors- Taking pictures only with picture permit” I was still on the freeway wondering what I should take no picture of. Arriving at the visitor center of Acoma village I found the actual village placed on the top of a mesa ( a plateau). A guided tour that took me up there with a bus taught me that the Acomas are a little Indian tribe, which got molested by the Spanish Inquisitors pretty badly. They had to abandon their native religion and become roman-catholics instead. They found a way to cope with their past- they practice both religions. Why even fight for religion anyway?
Austria is just around the corner
The route 66
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