Safford to Duncan

The ride into and the stay in Safford was fun; I saw the desert bird icon the roadrunner just outside of town, all speckles and crazy comb over dashing from under some scrub, across the street and back under a cactus on the other side (running from the coyote, maybe?) A ladybug landed on my shorts just as I got into town and decided to hitch a ride all the way to my stop for the night before I finally had to pick her? (how do the hims feel about being ladybugs) off and send her flying away. And I saw Indiana Jones (George Lucas in the name of God why) in an air conditioned theatre; even though air conditioning wasn't really necessary it was reassuring to know parts of the world are livable. I met Sara before the movie - I'm still in the big city habit of buying tickets well before the show just in case, which in the case was prudent because it was packed - everyone has fond memories of what the Jones series used to be I guess, myself included. Sara sold me my ticket and then headed outside for her break as I was deciding where I should eat. I asked Sara and she told me about I place she used to work just across the street. She asked me where I was from and the conversation led to my adventure; Sara said she wished she could do that. I asked her why she couldn't and she told me - she was born with one lung. She said she never even knew she only had one until she was eighteen or nineteen years old; she liked to play sports but got winded fairly easily, but thought she had asthma or something. It wasn't until she went to the hospital for another problem that the doctors discovered her condition. They said it was fairly rare, and that she should be fine as long as she didn't over exert herself or (God love doctors) "get pneumonia." So she could never ride a bike across the country, or climb a mountain, or run very far for that matter; which she's learned to deal with even though occasionally her friends do things together that she can't. It made me thankful I'm even able to take this trip. Thanks Sara.

I have to say, though, that it was a hard ride to my next stop, the last stop in Arizona, the town of Duncan. The little red line on my tiny little schizophrenic thermometer is climbing again, toward the mid to high 90's. Which of course means that on the bike it feels much hotter, as there is no shade, and the heat rising from the road makes me think I need to start getting up at 5:30 in the morning again. Oh for an 85 degree day! And I'm climbing again - Duncan has an elevation of 3600' feet, and looking at my map I know that New Mexico just goes up and up and up for awhile. The climbing really isn't that bad, it's the heat that's the killer.

I was able to pitch my town in town; Duncan has a public picnic area and after checking with the local sheriff I got the okay, and said that no one should bother me there. It's Memorial Day weekend, so lots of firecrackers and beer drinking down by the river; yes, the river. On the way into town I once again passed desert oasis after desert oasis, fields of hay and some corn and cabbage, very disconcerting after passing rocky, brown, barren wastelands with hardly enough water for a cactus not twenty miles before. I passed on checking out the river scene and instead headed for the beat down diner the pronounced itself Joe's in a neon sign half lit and half dark, e's, across the street from the park. I was the only person inside, other than the waitstaff and the cook. I slid into a faded booth and ordered a taco salad and a giant glass of milk (I don't know what it is but I can't drink enough milk these days.) Business started to pick up as I was eating, though it was mostly people picking up take out orders, which I thought was a little strange. Where was everyone going in this little town that they didn't have the time (or the inclination) to eat there? Were they headed for the river too? Was it because Joe's didn't have a television?

I ate my salad and pondered these deep questions as I watched the locals picking up their orders; then I headed back to my campsite to try and write all of this down for you, dear reader. I say try because for the next two hours I became the object of interest for three terminally bored teenage girls who couldn't ask me enough questions - where are you from, where are you going, you're riding a bike, are you married, do you have kids, do you want to be married, do you want kids, you're going to sleep in that tent, did eat at Joe's, what did you have, did you like it, and so on and so forth until I thought my head might explode. They were good kids in a small town trying to pass the time, occasionally shouting at friends walking down the street, or boys driving back and forth in their cars, the local version of cruising, I guess. The road that ran along the front of the park was the main street, and nothing that happened on it escaped their attention. Eventually it got dark, and the girls were rounded up by their big sister. I went to bed and read while listening to the bats flying overhead, hoping for slightly cooler temperatures for the next day.