SOUTHEASTERN ARIZONIA 2000/2001

Attendees on Marge Cooper's Southeastern Arizona 2001/2002 Christmas to New Year's trip were:  Merle Vogel;  Susan Noblin; Al and Lois Horowitz; Larry and Sandra Zinn; Jeff Gianformaggio;  Bud and P.J. Elbrecht; Dick and Joan Wayman, and their son, Rich Wayman.

Tues.  Dec. 25, 2001 Al and I, along with Jeff Gianformaggio spent the night at Marge Cooper's in Pine Valley on Christmas night so we could get an early start the next morning to begin our week-long bicycle trip in that little corner of Arizona that borders Mexico and New Mexico.

Wed., Dec. 26, 2001 After breakfast, we helped Marge attach the trailer to her van and load it, marveling at her patience at the many times she has had to do this.  It's not quite as easy as throwing a few bikes and bags into the back of your car. (Whine, whine.)  Trust me.  I watched the others work their butts off and I know. The four of us headed out at about eight.  I don't think we will ever tire of the fabulous moonscape along I-8 past Jacumba as you cross into Imperial County.  After clearing the pass, we shot into the flat valley of El Centro.   (IWWTLT.  Which means "I wouldn't want to live there".)  The drive was smooth and uneventful which we have come to appreciate if you have ever been on a tour.   Quiet is good.  The only excitement on the way over was getting date shakes in a place oddly called Dateland, looking for cactus and matching the prices of gasoline from one place to the other.  In general, gas grew progressively cheaper as we headed east with the usual up-ticks near some freeway exits. The total driving distance from Pine Valley was about 425 miles.  The landscape was flat and brown and it was sunny but we were treated to a few miles of giant saguaro cactus dotting the landscape about 70 miles west of Tucson, one of the largest cities in that part of Arizona besides Phoenix and probably, counting Flagstaff, in the entire state. The Best Western in Benson, was our first stop for the night and as Marge and I approached the front desk to check in,, Juanita, the desk clerk would have been awarded the green scarf award for the day had we thought to bring it along.  Juanita said, "I need to speak with Mrs. Cooper." At this, my hair instantly turned gray but Marge, apparently due to long years of touring experience, clutched her confirmation number in her fist and held her ground.  (Meanwhile, a line of people behind us wishing to check in was forming out the door.) The conversation went something like this. Juanita (desk clerk) to Marge:  "I need to know who you spoke with when you made your reservations." Marge (unflinching): I spoke with you.  I have the confirmation number and you have already been paid. Juanita looking befuddled because she had no recollection of this conversation:  "I need to know how you got these rates." Lois (thinking to herself): And I need to know where we're sleeping tonight. We figured that we got a real bargain because Juanita wouldn't have brought this up if we were overpaying. Right?  On the other hand, there was the time Marge tells of a past tour where she called an innkeeper in some small burg where she was hoping to book rooms and asked the lady if she had 12 rooms available for a particular date. "Yes," the woman replied.  "But I can only let you have six." "Why?" "If I rent them all to you, I won't have any left for anyone else." So I figured that logic is not necessarily operative in the sticks and perhaps we really did overpay but Juanita was going to make an issue of it anyway for reasons no one would ever be able to figure out.  The upshot of the conversation was, we resolved nothing but got to check into our rooms. Some of us went to the Family Dollar Store - our big thrill for the evening - and loaded up on such luxuries as socks and scotch tape.  We spread our dinner dollars around the few available restaurants in Benson, turned off our cell phones because there was no service beyond Tucson anyway and went to bed.

Thurs., Dec. 27, 2001 Early the next morning, we decided at the continental breakfast in the lobby that we would leave only when we could no longer see our breath.  The overnight temperatures, we were told were averaging out in the twenties.  Jackets and gloves (preferably, the kind with fingers) were required riding equipment and helmets were being worn for warmth. Bud didn't ride due to sore shoulders (yeah, yeah) and for this, he was deserving of the green scarf  which I just decided to give him this very minute.  He expected this situation to persist during the coming week so he drove. The bikers headed east on I-10 with the intention of exiting at Dragoon Rd. for a more scenic detour but Sandra Zinn just could not stay away from those steel belted radial tire bits that litter the road and she got her first flat tire six miles from the start which gave rise to the question, How Many Knickerbikers Does it Take to Change a Flat Tire?   General Vogel and General Zinn repaired it (the rest of us kept our distance) and we were quickly off once again. The Dragoon Rd./Texas Canyon side trip was quite nice. Lunch, for a group of us, took place on a cement whatsis in front of a farm where we proceeded to eat food we normally would reject if we had any class or brains (leftovers from prior meals) or if there were a place to eat.  When we reached Highway 191, we headed north for I-10 again, with a stop for a flat tire repair for Joan Wayman.  Once on I-10, a tail wind blew us the 9 miles into Willcox.  For the day, we managed a total of 50 miles and NO hills. We stayed at the Best Western in Willcox on Rex Allen Blvd.  We learned that Rex Allen was an old cowboy star who was born in Willcox and lucky enough to get out.   No, we did not have a chance to visit the Rex Allen Museum.

Fri., Dec. 28 and Sat., Dec. 29, 2001 By talking to the locals, we found another road out of Willcox other than I-10 that took us past/through Kansas Settlement.  We weren't sure if Kansas Settlement was a town or what, as towns in these parts often resemble six houses and a barn.  Or they are sometimes just six houses and a barn. A Knickerbiker relishes every country store we pass (which averages about one a day) but at about the 16-mile mark, we actually had our choice between a store and a little restaurant.  We chose the restaurant where about 7 of us crammed ourselves into a booth as if the place was crowded or something, and engaged in a long discussion speculating upon the enormous size of a fork a lady sitting near the window was using to eat her lunch.   It looked like a huge serving fork.  As you may already know, there is not a whole lot of intelligent conversation to come by on our tours (and this is just the way we like it, thanyouverymuch.)  We talk about the small stuff because that's all there is. Along the way, we encountered several dips in the road and signs that said "Do Not Enter When Flooded."   Saw lots of birds, a 'street' named Lizard Lane and rode past an 'airport' named LeRoy's Airport which we believed to have direct flights to Columbia. Another flat, no-hills 50 mile day. This evening's accommodations were in Elfrida where we were notified upon arrival that all the water in the town had been turned off.   That took care of our Happy Hour (wine, wine.)  The lack of water was not particularly good news on every possible level since we were planning on spending two nights in Elfrida. My immediate thought was, after holding out for porcelain potties for the past two days ride in a land where a bush is hard to find let alone one with leaves on it, I might actually have to pee in the bushes while staying at a motel.  Or we could do twenty to a flush.   Marge did regale us with previous stories of her initial communications with the town's only --- and our innkeeper --- Jack, when she attempted to book the four rooms in his glorious 'inn'  into which we crammed 13 people, not all of whom were related.  Jack was quite a character.  (He was also a former prison guard in another life. But that's a whole 'nother story.)  He almost joined us for a game of 'Battle of the Sexes', a board game that Jeff brought along with him to wile away the hours when we got tired of watching QVC and the weather channel.  He settled for kibitzing. Back to the water situation.  Needless to say, after Marge and a few helpers drove to a store for gallon bottles of water, the pipes gurgled in our bathrooms rooms and came back on.  (My recommendation to Marge is that with her timing, she should stay out of the stock market.) The only reason I could see for living in Elfrida is if you were in the witness protection program. Apparently, however, the few residents there, actually like living there.  Al met two men who ran an antique 'mall'.  One told him he had been a stunt man in the movies for years (claimed to be the fastest gun in the west and 4th cousin to Billy the Kid -- watch out, Al). The other was a multi-millionaire, having acquired this heady status in exchange for walking with a limp and nearly losing his life in a motorcycle accident. We had two choices for dinner this evening.  The place "across the street next to the Tumbleweed Crossing Minimart" or the place down the 'block' painted lime green but which had a lovely bar.  We got to sample each since we were in Elfrida for two nights. The next day, we all piled into Marge and Bud's vehicles and drove to Chiricahua National park.  We took a four-mile hike and saw, at closer hand, the incredible rock structures the area is known for. This is definitely a 'must-see' if you are ever in the area. On the way to the park, we engaged in more intellectual car talk.  One topic revolved around defending oneself from a mountain lion.  The suggested solution was, 'Get big and stand behind Larry [Zinn].' (I think that was Sandra Zinn's suggestion.)  Larry's solution was to run like hell but just fast enough to stay ahead of the other person.  Why? You don't have to outrun the mountain lion, just the other person. We also talked about restroom accommodations on tours, mooning in bushes, those who don't squat quite far down enough and who turn their backs to the road on the apparent theory that "If I can't see you, you can't see me."   We also named names.  (I can be bribed under the proper circumstances.) Other highlights of our two-day stay in Elfrida was the local advertising throwaway sprinkled liberally with jokes.  My favorite was "If a man talks in the forest and a woman is not there to hear him, is he still wrong?" We also went into a western clothing shop and encountered a fantastic, gorgeous pooch.  Her name? Lois.  Al's comment was that THAT Lois was a lot more friendly and cooperative than another Lois of his acquaintance.  Plus THAT Lois kissed his hand. Something the other Lois just doesn't do.

Sun., Dec. 30, 2001 After Elfrida, we started hitting the big time.  The first of the Big Time was Bisbee, a lovely reasonably 'big' town nestled in some mountains or the other where the year round temperature range is 40-75 degrees.   We rode more flat miles with our only climbing the last 4 miles into Bisbee through a mountain pass.  Bisbee has a very touristy downtown and it was also in Bisbee where we had our best overnight accommodation, the 6 room Calumet and Arizona Guest House.  It was actually a cross between a B & B and a big B & B.  The rooms were straight out of Victoria Magazine and it was very lovely.  No TVs, but they didn't have TV's in the 1890's and authenticity is key, after all.

Mon., Dec. 31, 2001 Breakfast the next morning was a home cooked, to-order meal (eggs benedict, etc.) at a beautifully set table for 14.  The proprietress was still crocheting the tablecloth and left the crochet hook and ball of cord at one of the place settings.  We just ate around it. Nothing deters a Knickerbiker from a meal. After breakfast, we headed north to Tombstone.  The ride out of Bisbee was a climb and we actually found ourselves craving a hill to give some variety to the flat straight landscape we had seen thus far. Tombstone has one of those 'for tourist' western-style 'downtowns' where the locals never go but which was very cute.  Dinner that night was at one of the restaurants where we proceeded to gorge ourselves with more food than anyone is allowed to eat at one sitting (which is why I never had to buy lunch on any of the riding days.) Big-Nose Kate's Saloon was the setting of New Year's Eve festivities for those who managed to drag their stomachs down the street.  The rest of us went to bed (another Best Western) early as it seems an oxymoron to celebrate anything, let alone New Year's Eve in a place called Tombstone.

Tues., Jan. 1, 2002 We proceeded north to Benson where we hoped to visit Karschner Cavern that day provided we were able to get Tickets. At a gas station at an intersection, Jeff, P.J. and I asked a car driver how far the Caverns were from where we were so we could decide when and where to have our lunch.  The driver said it was about  3-5 miles.  It was actually 10 miles.  We figured he meant 3-5 MINUTES BY CAR.  Rule # 76.  Take anything a driver says regarding mileage with a huge grain of salt.  But then, you already knew that. Marge and Al, having arrived earlier at the Caverns in the van, procured tickets for the rest of us and Bud drove back and distributed them to the cyclists who were whining the ten miles up the road.  Karschner Caverns was newly discovered in the mid 1970s and opened to the public in 1999. The State of Arizona invested something like 32 million dollars into developing it for tourism and in their infinite wisdom, limits the tours to a few hundred people per day.  Which means that getting tickets for tours is more difficult than getting a ticket a year in advance to an Elton John concert.  A little math will tell you that it will take the State about 1,032 years to break even. In the meantime, Jeff, P.J. and I continued north to the Caverns.   Instead of staring at the scenery, Jeff taught P.J. and I how to search for gutter gifts. Jeff, who could spot a cigarette butt at 20 miles an hour from half a mile, actually found a Stetson which is slightly larger than a cigarette butt.  Inspired by the story of the time Marge found a one hundred dollar bill in northern California, the three of us decided that if one of us found a bag of  drug money, we would split it three ways (or risk the wrath of the other two.)  We never did find any.  Darn. A good time was had by all.  No injuries, 3 flats altogether although 2 of them (Sandra's & Susan's) persisted in slowly leaking for a few days until sterner measures could be taken.  We weren't gone long enough to gain any weight and we had more flat riding on this trip than anyone has ever had in a week's ride. And we all got along!