Sunday March 26th
 |
| Less we forget - the Picacho Road and Picacho his self looming over |
Up with the sun. Still a few mosies but manageable. Classic fried bread and egg breakfast bracketed by a ride out the lonely road to the overlook attempted the night before which failed and a swim in the river which was cold but, you know, stimulating. Fish jumping. Chat with host about this and that including his observation that the culture of the Seattle are was “different”. I did not point out that climate is culture; it wasn’t that kind of conversation.
Pack and drive, drive, drive. Tacos Mi Rancho in Yuma for lunch, good and cheap - a well oiled food machine in Spanish. Couple of border patrol inspection stations not at all interested in us or other southbounders. Hit the Ace hardware in charming Ajo - S got some lounge pants and I, well I got some bike oil, a brush and rags for bike dry cleaning and some ice. Forgot peanut butter but did get limes but that was actually at the fabulous Del Sol market in Yuma which continues to refuse to carry pico de gallo or any fresh salsa (S said everyone in those parts makes their own which i doubt). Shot on down 78 off I-8 and rolled into Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument Campground around 5:30ish. No spots left with ramadas but that won’t matter until maybe 11 am tomorrow by which time we may be able to sidle into something - at least a rebozo. Really cleaned the Picacho moon dust off the bikes and lubed the drive train. No happy ranger greetings at the gate like last time and S speculates it is the Trump effect; I hope she is wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment