National Monument. Getting there involved a fairly arduous ride up windy,
paved Picture Rocks Road. It handled a fair amount
of cars and most seemed in a desperate hurry so I was glad to turn onto the
gravel road of the park. There I saw two vehicles in a couple of hours.
Incredible numbers and varieties of cactus, especially saguaro covered the
mountain sides in the park. The clouds lifted a little as I pedaled down on my
way out of the park giving me a gorgeous view of the
mountains. The park has little development but a pretty picnic area
had a restroom that looked like something from the
days of the miners. I wasn't allowed on any trails with my bike but the road was
nearly as good.
The next day I had the best breakfast I've had in a long time at Old Times Kafe on Prince Street. When you come up to the front door, you know its going to be good. The service, prices and food provide examples of how it should be done. They've got smoking and nonsmoking sections with the former hermetically sealed from the latter. Old bottles line shelves in the restaurant and antique farm equipment sits in the parking lot among cactus plants. The atmosphere makes you hate to leave. But leave I did and headed over to the area of Tucson Mountain Park though most of what I saw wasn't actually in the park. I pedaled up Anklam Road where I found an abandoned road up the side of a mountain. It was hard riding but a great view of the
city rewarded me for my efforts. A cold front had come and made the day less
inviting for cycling but the clearing skies made for better pictures. I liked
this one of a canyon on Speedway Boulevard. I found a
spot sheltered from the wind to enjoy my bagel and apple. I could see the city
in the distance and cars passing by below but heard only the wind and occasional
bird songs.
The next morning, after breakfast at the Old Times Kafe, I headed south out of Tucson. First I went through South Phoenix which is like being in Mexico almost. Most of the signs were in Spanish or a mix of English and Spanish. I stopped and talked to this man selling peppers. I told him I learned to drive on a truck like that (actually it was a 1950 but that's close.) He proudly told me that the truck was a 57 and didn't cause many problems at all. I passed a big junk yard with an interesting sign
out
front. I went through some wide open spaces with arroyos or dry rivers forming
about the only scenery. It finally got warm enough for me to take off the
leggings and polypropylene. That felt nice. Further along I came upon the
world's largest pecan grove with 5,500 acres. That's quite a thing to see after
20 miles of desert. I saw them harvesting the pecans. I got off my bike and
walked across the railroad tracks to watch this yellow machine
that shakes the trees. I could feel the vibration in my feet. I thought it neat
that each wheel had a brushes on front and back that I assume cleared the pecans
out of the way so they wouldn't get run over. Later up the road I saw tractors
with large rollers picking up the nuts and blowing the leaves out to the side.
I spent the night at the Holiday Inn Express in Green Valley. It was like heaven to check into a place with a grand view of the mountains from my room, free local calls and an Earthlink number and a hot tub! In the afternoon I took a ride up Duval Mine Road. The area has been a copper mining for 40 years or more and also produces molybdenum. IMOA says Molybdenum is a metallic element which is most frequently used as an alloying addition in alloy and stainless steels. Its alloying versatility is unmatched because its addition enhances strength, hardenability, weldability, toughness, elevated temperature strength and corrosion resistance. Molybdenum a lustrous gray metal, somewhat heavier than iron but melting at a much higher temperature (4730 degrees Fahrenheit versus 2795 for iron.) It's mined as a byproduct of copper mining here in Green Valley. The ASARCO Mission mine produced 70,000 tons of copper and 1,562,000 ounces of silver in 2001.
Phelps-Dodge produced copper and molybdenum from adjoining mines. I wasn't able
to see any mining activity as it was all hidden by man-made mountains. Still I
got a nice view of the valley and the Santa Rita Mountains to the east. I
watched the sun rise over those mountains the next day as I pedaled south on a
frigid morning. I was pedaling on the Interstate, a first for me, and legal in
pats of Arizona where there are no other roads available. I was glad for the
opportunity to ride there but much prefer quieter roads. I stopped in Tubac, a
pleasant artist village with a great little coffee shop
and lots of galleries and shops. 
Heading south from Tubac I was able to stay off the Interstate for a while following a frontage road, which led me to a couple of pleasant surprises. First, I found the Tumacacori post office where I could mail the post cards I had been carrying around absent mindedly for a few days. I had been admiring the grad mountain and then saw the perfect little building with an old truck parked out front. I chatted with the driver who proudly told me it was a 1967 Dodge and that he had bought it after the owner died. He said everyone knew who's truck it was. Just down the road I came upon the
Tumacacori
National Historical Park. For three bucks I went inside and toured the remains
of an old mission site. Originally the Jesuits built a church there in 1757
after a fort had been built at Tubac. The Jesuits were run out by the Spanish in
1767 and the Franciscans took over and redecorated the church. Later in
1800 they began construction on a larger church that took over twenty years to
complete and then was abandoned when the Tubac presidio was moved to
Tucson in 1848. In this picture the foundation
of the Jesuit church is in the foreground. 
The ride to Nogales really wore me out. I was mostly aware of a ceaseless head wind but later learned that I also gained elevation from 2,700 feet at Green Valley to 4,000 at Nogales. I ventured into the crowds and rode across the border into Mexico. I saw a Christmas manger scene and a bunch of kids in a park. Mostly it was masses
of large cars from the U. S., many with luggage strapped on, heading home
through narrow streets for Christmas. I stayed over there just long enough to
appreciate the sign welcoming me back into the U.S. The next morning I awoke to 27 degrees in Nogales. It was 41 in Phoenix; what was I thinking? Well, I had a big breakfast and headed out into the cold. This time the wind was behind me so I made a lot better time. The day before 23 miles to Tubac had taken two hours. Today 22 miles to Tubac took one and one half hours. Gorgeous mountains to the east and west made the trip scenic.
I left Green Valley at day beak beginning my ride with a straight, constant but
gentle
climb for six miles. The sun came up as I reached the top where I turned north.
This took me to Mission Road up in the mines and away from any houses or utility
poles. The road curved and dipped with more elevation gain and I ended up on a
wonderful plateau. I felt as if I were riding at the top of the world. It was 39
when I started but the climb warmed me and the tail wind and sun worked to
offset the
cold. In general, the cacti were thicker here though no saguaros grew in this
area. The prickly pear often had a violet or even red shade to them. I looked
down unto a mine but couldn't see much except a few buildings. Way out here was
a share the road sign; and it made one of my favorite pictures
as it says so much about cycling in Arizona: great scenery and wonderful accommodations.
The road then descended for miles before passing by the mission
at San Xavier. As I came into the outskirts of Tucson I began to long for
a shoulder and sure enough: a bike lane materialized. I rode it into 
the
Starr Pass area where I was surprised to see the Santa Cruz River Park, a linear
park beautifully paved that looked like a bicycle boulevard. In the river bottom
I twice saw coyotes and some roadrunners. The park provided nice views of the
Tucson skyline with the Santa Catalina Mountains behind. Before calling it a day
I stopped at Bookman's, amazing used bookstore. It's the size of a small super
market and was busy with people this Sunday about noon. I bought a book and
wished we had this great store in Florence. As forecast, clouds and rain moved in and I
sat cozy in my hotel room looking out at what is supposed to still be there tomorrow
and hoping it won't be.I awoke the next day to rain, cold temperatures and a ride of 50 miles. The forecast made it sound like there might be breaks in the rain so I headed north. For an hour it was only cold but then a light rain fell. My hands and feet got wet and cold. but I felt strong and pedaled hard. After 2 1/2 hours, I made it to the oasis at Picacho Peak and had a cup of coffee and barbecue sandwich, which revived me. I then headed north for another hour, now under heavy clouds but not rain, until I reached the south end of Eloy where I gorged on hot food, soup, coffee and hot deserts. The next morning I got directions to The Casa Grande National monument in Coolidge.
The
lady at the truck stop told me to take Eleven mile road and that if I got the
the Circle K I had gone to far. I left at daybreak and watched the sunrise of
Picacho Peak and then turned left on Eleven Mile Corner Road, an absolutely
straight, flat road that seemed to head to nowhere. Eventually I passed the post
office for Eleven Mile Corner, Arizona. A few miles later I made my way into
Coolidge eager to see the ruins I had read about on the web the night before.
According to the National Park Service web site
the ruins, built by the Hohokaw Indians in the 1300's consisted of many outbuildings
and the Casa Grande or big house. Built of caliche it was once four
stories high and had a window that sighted the sun at the winter solstice. The
Hohokam built canals and lived near the Gila River from AS 300 until 1450. The
name Hohokam comes from the Pima word for "those who have gone."
Father Kino, a Spanish priest, was probably the first European to see the ruins
in 1694, but stories abound of later adventurers visiting the ruins. They became
relatively easy to get to when a railroad was built through the area. A local
stop was named Casa Grande in honor of the ruins and later became a city by that
name. So I was pretty excited about following the footsteps of great adventurers,
but its not the same. I stopped towards the end of Coolidge for coffee at
McDonald's and asked the woman who waited on me where the ruins were. She
hesitated for a moment and said "Oh that, its right up here across from
Wal-Mart." Nevertheless, its a wonderful
monument and very well done by the park service. They have a lot of information
about the Indians and how they lived and the native plants. I was pleased to be
able to identify one of the plants I'd been hiding behind for bathroom stops as
a paloverde tree. It has green bark and can engage in photosynthesis even
without leaves. I also looked at examples of ironwood, creosote bush, salt bush,
acacia, mesquite, ocotillo, saguaro, cholla, fish hook cactus and other plants I
can't remember because I didn't write it down. I toured the grounds
and watched a video on the archeology work done in the area. Then I headed north
for a total ride of 72 miles. I had a picnic lunch on Gila River, which is
nothing but a big dry channel but was once the source of water for the canals of
the Hohokam. After lunch, I was dragging a little at the end when a road biker
named Stan, I think, came by. We chatted as we rode the last 20 miles into
Chandler. He made me ride faster and the conversation distracted me from a
fairly dull stretch of road I had seen before. 
The next day, Christmas, I had breakfast and headed for the Desert Classic Trail in South Mountain Park. A lot of development has occurred on that side of South Mountain and I couldn't get through the rows of tidy houses to the trail. I rode until the paved roads gave out and then followed gravel track that led me west and south of the park. I pedaled through to a new development of large homes that signs said began at $200,000. There were probably 50 of them: half finished and half nearly so. Many appeared furnished and some had lamps on inside. However, the place spooked me a bit as I did not see one person or one car anywhere. I left on the paved road and my map showed Pecos going through to Beltline which would allow me to ride around South Mountain park. However, Pecos ended at a road-closed barrier and nothing but a rough dirt track continued. On a mountain bike "road closed" means the fun has just begun so I pushed on through the bump and grind of unmaintained double track. I didn't see any no trespassing signs but thought I might be on Indian land and worried a bit that someone might scold me. Thus, I was happy when I hit the paved road on the other end and road ten miles north to
downtown
Phoenix. I passed the state capital and lots of war
memorials as well as a mining museum that wasn't open on Christmas day.
That wasn't the only thing closed on Christmas day. Restaurants, even McDonald's,
were dark and somber. Finally I came across an IHOP on Central at Virginia and
got a good meal. I'd ridden 36 cold miles by then so figure my Christmas dinner probably
tasted better than anyone else's. I checked into the Airport Days Inn and
relaxed in the hot tub under the palm trees. The next day I made a dry run to
the airport and road all around Phoenix and Tempe without going very far from my
hotel but covering 50 miles. The last part of my last ride 
took me through
Papago park where I could see the Phoenix skyline and South Mountain park in the
distance. The next morning I pedaled in a pitch dark, cold morning to the
airport, disassembled my bike and flew home with 801 miles or Arizona
roads, dozens of pictures and rich memories of my Christmas vacation. Arizona
was a superb choice for a mountain bike vacation.