It’s been a couple of fairly quiet days. I’ve been within sight of my last US state, California, since the run-in to Lake Havasu City. But I only crossed the border yesterday.
Here’s a view of California from Arizona, in the slightly bizarre desert drizzle (courtesy of the remnants of Hurricane Simon):
Why so apparently slow? Well, I’m in the middle of a desert. For the last couple of days, I’ve followed the Colorado river south, as there are plenty of towns and small resorts where I could get water and supplies. And there’s a large chunk of barren emptiness between the river and the coastal mountain range before San Diego. I needed to head south to find a manageable route across (i.e. less than 100 straight miles of nowt). I don’t really want to get stuck out there.
Following the Colorado river south gave me plenty of time to inspect California’s little-known ‘East Coast’. The river is quiet (hard to imagine that it’s the same river that cut the Grand Canyon), and is dotted with small RV and trailer resorts, where people go to swim, boat, jet-ski and generally chill out.
The picture above is pretty typical of the ‘coast’. The left bank is Arizona. The right bank is California, complete with small RV resort. The road is where I should have been riding, apart from a small navigational issue. Out of shot to the left is the busy highway I ended up on, complete with stacks of diesel-belching trucks.
I finally left Arizona yesterday, south of Parker. En route to the border, I stopped only when flagged down by a man in a van going the other way, who swerved halfway across the road while waving a tin of spam at me. I’m still not clear if this is a standard Arizona leaving present.
And somewhere just after that, I hit the 4000-mile mark for the trip. Another little milestone, and a nice complement to hitting my final state.
About five miles further on, my left knee began to give me grief. It’s been a little bit dodgy since Kansas (I think as a result of riding on an angle while leaning into cross-winds), but seems to respond well to rest. Just hope I can limp as far as San Diego to give it a few days off to recover properly.
In any case, (yet) another rest day today so that the knee (and the rest of me) is fresh for the 90-ish mile desert run tomorrow. It’s amazing to think that it’s only a week or so since I was sleeping in my down jacket at well over 2000m altitude; tomorrow’s run to Brawley will leave me below sea-level, and the daytime temperature is back into the 90s. And you can tell you’re in California from the sudden appearance of millions of palm trees in every town.
Assuming the desert goes OK, it should only be three or four days from here to the real Californian coast. I’ve nearly knocked off a crossing of North America on a bike, which is an odd thing to contemplate. Anyway, a few more days of sore knees, legs and derriere to go before I get there…