Vidal Junction to Needles: wind in my face


Sagebrush, Saguaro, and Sweat
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Statistics for today
Distance 80.00 kms 49.71 miles
Climbed 410 meters 1,345 feet
Ride time (hours) 5.34 -
Avg speed 15 kph -
Statistics for trip to date
Distance 504.74 kms 313.79 miles
Climbed 3,054 meters 10,020 feet
Ride time (hours) 37.90 -
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Sunday, October 22nd, 2017

The wind isn't taking the morning off like it did yesterday. In fact, it's so gusty that when I remove the rocks holding down the tent it flies off into the buses. It's blowing from the north, the direction I'll be riding in all day, so I've got my work cut out for me.

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The morning view looking west.

There is barely a shoulder on this road, just 4 inches in spots. A few times I get brushed by 18-wheelers and RVs. In one spot a guy pulls out to pass coming in the other direction, he sees me but goes ahead anyways, shaving me close in my lane. I give him a long look at my middle finger.

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Mordor
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The Mojave has many of these interminable straight-line roads across valleys. Brutal when the wind is not in your favor.
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It sucks when they put a rumble strip right on the white line when there is no shoulder. It forces me farther out into the road.

The road climbs ever so slowly up a pass between valleys, then descends for almost 10 miles into Needles. I spend most of the day on this seemingly never-ending climb into the wind, the monotony broken only by the occasional near-death experience when a truck gets too close.

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Needles is a major stop on the railroad. These endless freight trains fill the yards.
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Needles is on 66... everyone gets in on the marketing action.

I get a motel in Needles so I can take a shower and watch tonight's Patriots game. My first bed of the trip. The motels are cheap in this town -- I get one for $40 -- and I could have gotten cheaper if I wanted to go downmarket. The place I chose is run by an Indian guy who asks about where I've come and where I'm going. I tell him a few snake stories. I hop in the shower, drink a bunch of icewater, and turn on the TV for a long dose of football.

After the game (guess who won? yeah you right bro) I go for dinner at a restaurant a block away, run by an Indian guy (why so many Indians in the Mojave?). They have lamb curry on the menu -- I order it figuring it will be authentic -- and I'm not disapointed. I said I wanted it hot, the guy asks: "like Indian hot?". Yes. And it was all of that and more. I know it's good when my head sweats.

I chat in German with a couple of Swiss travelers at the bar. They are doing a portion of route 66 then heading north to fly out of Salt Lake City. Europeans just love Route 66.

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