Well, I didn't see the Grand Canyon after all. There was a large wildfire that jumped the road going to the North Rim. They told me the road would be closed for "at least an hour, maybe a lot more". Oh well. I didn't try the South rim, because the park radio said there were huge crowds and utterly insufficient parking. I suspected they gave no preference to Bikers (as they of course should!), so I didn't bother. I headed south.

Spent a day in Flagstaff. Real nice area. Podunk town. I don't say that to be mean, but it is podunk city. Maybe I just missed the good parts. The weather at this time of year is about perfect - 85 high and 65 low and very dry nearly every day. But it's at a high enough altitude that they get a real winter. I went for a fine bike ride up into the mountains. The next day I headed south again. Phoenix was HOT. Searing, blistering, scorching, mind-numbingly hot. I heard the official temperature was 112, but I think where I was it had to be 5 degrees hotter. The thermometer on my camper (in the direct sunlight) said 137!

On Friday I went for a classic desert ride. Fantastic! Started where I was staying just east of Tucson. This is the essence of riding in the desert. Absolutely gorgeous. And no traffic to speak of. Headed down to Tombstone through the rolling hills and fragrant sagebrush. Saw the OK Corral, but didn't stay for the gunfight show they put on.

Then a real nice ride down to Bisbee, and old mining town up in the mountains near the Mexican border. There's a great tunnel you go through as you leave Bisbee on a somewhat steep grade. So the noise of the bike REALLY resounded inside it. I stopped for coffee a few miles down the road and a car stopped and the folks came up to me and chattered excitedly about how they were in the tunnel while I was going through, and they couldn't believe the noise. I told them I was happy to be able to provide them with a vivid memory of the area!

Then I headed west to Nogales. The county road meandered through small canyons and cactus-laden fields. By this time was above 100 degrees. Not a problem when I'm moving on the bike, but I had to stop for a Border Patrol check point, it was pretty durn hot! Felt like someone had left a WHOLE bunch of oven doors open.

By the time I headed north towards Tucson, the thunderheads were starting to build, as they do most afternoons this time of year. A huge one formed over the area I had just come through.

Another was forming right in my path. It's hard to tell how far away they are sometimes. I consulted the map and decided to alter my route. Turns out I was right. The highway I was headed for got a good dose of rain and hail, enough to warrant mention on the local news that evening. Then as I headed down the homestretch towards the campsite, another big one was forming in front of me. I guess my timing was just lucky. I arrived and got the hog in the sty just as the rain and wind started.

So I'm sitting there watching the storm pass by and realize that my ears were numb. What the heck? They felt sort of tingly and weird. Didn't figure it out until the next day. See, Arizona doesn't have a helmet law (unless you're under 18). So I had done that long ride Friday without a helmet (You're a bad, bad boy, Jonathin!).

On Saturday I went for a morning ride (it was 74 degrees at 6:30 AM!) before packing up and hitting the road. I glanced in the rearview mirror and figured it out. You know (or can imagine) how loose clothing snaps and flaps in the wind, like when you're traveling 60 or 70 miles and hour? Well, due to the distinct lack of hair on my head, and in the absense of a helmet, my bloody ears were flapping and snapping in the wind! It looked hilarious! And explained why they were numb after riding for 7 hours.

There was one other outcome from the previous day's seemingly eventful ride. I had been wearing a long sleeved shirt (a Harley shirt, big surprise) and my summer gloves. Now I didn't think about it at the time (though I should have since it's happened before), but there's a small gap that forms when my arms are outstretched on the handlebars. A perfect place for the sun to sneak through. And it did. And I got a nice 1/2 inch wide ring of sunburn on my wrists. Every other exposed area of flesh had been slathered with sun block due to the intense desert sun.

So that evening I'm sitting outside on the beach chair enjoying the departure of the thunderstorm and the approaching sunset. A couple stopped by to chat. After a while they ask about the strange marks on my wrists. I explain. Then guy says, "You know, I'm a retired policeman. And those markings on your wrists look EXACTLY like what happens after someone wears a set of HANDCUFFS for a while that are a smidgen tight." He smiled at me and finished, "You sure you didn't have a little run-in with the local law?"

It should comfort you to know that there is some consistency in the balance of the world that even doing something as innocent as riding my bike for a fantastic desert ride I somehow find a way to uphold my status as an Honorary Dirt Bag.

I arrived this morning in Texas Hill Country, just west of Austin. They do take some liberty with the term "hill". The Black Hills of South Dakota are HILLS! These are little bumps in the terrain in comparison. But after only one bike ride I can say it is really pretty countryside. And fantastic biking! Nicely paved roads winding through terrain that is quite green with live oaks and other small trees and shrubs.

Speaking of hills, I took a quick ride up to the top of Mount Bonnell. This (I believe) is the highest point in all of Hill Country. The summit is at a staggering and breathtaking 775 feet. Some of the folks up there looked like they might be suffering from oxygen starvation. Nice view of Austin, though.

Austin at first glance is bigger than I'd thought. I haven't discovered what the population is yet, but it's certainly no small town. And I quickly spotted the surest sign that Austin is a civilized place: A number of Starbucks locations! I'll be exploring more in the next few days...

The weather is pretty darn nice. For me, anyway. A little humid. Low to mid 90's by noon. After sunset it slowly "cools" down to the low 70's by morning. I'm told this is how it is most days in the summer. Not everyone would like this, but I find it wonderful. Another thing I experienced last night was lightning bugs. It took me back to see them flying around in the darkness. I remember as a kid we'd catch as many as we could in a jar to see of they would give off enough light to read by. The answer is NO. But kids will keep trying, despite evidence to the contrary.

They sure have interesting ways of pronouncing things here. In one short day I've discovered that if you need assistance, you do not ask for "help". Just go ahead and throw away that "L" because you ain't going to need it around here. And if you don't lose the "L", they look at you strange. Best advice is to keep it simple and just ask for "hep".

The place I'm staying at is on the Pederales river. Don't go thinking that you pronounce it as it looks (it's a Spanish word). The proper local pronunciation is "PRED-railz". The next county north is Burnet County. Should you be foolish enough to attempt to say it without being forewarned, you will be firmly but politely corrected that the right way to say it is "BURN-it". The locals have a saying: "It's BURN-it, durn it! Learn it!".

I made one attempt to show the couple who were teaching me the above phonetics lesson that they are not alone in these quaint localisms. this. I wrote "Puyallup" on a napkin and asked them to pronounce it. Gotcha! Then I tried to see if I could pull their leg with the name of that Central Washington State Park "Potholes". I corrected them saying it as if it were a Spanish word: "Pa-TOLL-ez". They looked at me like I was a bug. No offence meant to any particular Bug...