There’s no good way to admit that statement. No matter what you use as an excuse, no matter what time of year it was, what time of day or night it may have been, getting too high during a motorcycle ride is no good. But wait, you have no idea what I’m talking about… Oh God, that must have sounded horrible!
Let’s go back to the beginning. I find that as I get a little older, my need for the chaos has been curbed a bit, so the antics of Arizona Bike Week started to have an effect on me by day two. I wasn’t into the Moto-WalMart at Westie and decided to look at the map and just take off on my own… with Heather. Now, this part of the country has some legendary riding available within a day’s clip, historic spots you would be lucky to visit in a lifetime, so we were more than happy to set off on an adventure. Brian Klock had hooked us up with an Indian Roadmaster that was fully loaded, so we stuffed it full of camera goodies and picked a road that reminded us of 129, the Dragons Tail. The route number is 89a, and It looked every bit as menacing on the map with tight keyhole turns and switchbacks. We were excited even after realizing it would take us about two and a half hours to reach the beginning of it.
Nevertheless, we started with a good breakfast in the company of great friends. Adam Sandoval, Jason and Charlie Mook, and Doc with his wife. Doc is a trauma surgeon who is also part of the Throwdown, and whether it’s riding or taking meals, I would much prefer to do either in his company. That morning was a chilly 50 degrees, but by the time we finished our hearty meal, we had felt the warming effects of the sun approaching high noon. Did I mention that we were at 1,086 feet above sea level at this point, a factor we hadn’t included in our route planning.
We happily headed out of town and had a nice brisk stretch of highway to our first stop at Black Canyon City at 2,000 feet, only about halfway to 89a. The temperature was dropping fast, and I could see a fog bank rolling in alongside us. I felt that something hot from a convenience store in our bellies wouldn’t be a bad idea. This was also when I realized I should have worn a better jacket and that Heather didn’t have gloves. I mean, who needs gloves in Arizona? The store only had thin garden-type cloth gloves, which were triple x, so she passed. Oh, I should also say that not being from the desert region of the United States has its disadvantages. Neither of us realized we would have to go through the high desert to get to this road, which, my friends, has a very different climate than the desert floor. It is always best to wait out anything that looks like a storm. After a short break, we saw the clouds drifting further south, so we headed out. Now, I’ve been around my brother Jack, who lives in Apache Junction, enough to hear him talk about the great Saguaro Cactus. He spits out facts about this area like he wrote a book on it. If I had just listened, I would have remembered that he told me that as you start to rise up in elevation, you can tell by watching the king of cactuses. They will grow only on the south-facing slopes to stay warmer. Eh, I thought it was something about how they stopped growing at a particular elevation, which I remembered, and we pushed on.
About an hour later, we pulled over again near Prescot Valley, elevation 5,000 feet. No longer were we in the company of ANY Saguaros. Not north or south, they stop growing at 4,000 feet, which is why I suddenly remembered Jack telling me as clearly as day. At this point, I was thinking of anything I could to take my mind off how cold it was. Nevertheless, we had made it. The start of 89A was right in front of us. We started to sway back and forth on this incredible road. Then, I swear to all things holy, we began to climb the side of what must be a giant mountain for this region. In 12 miles, we rose to nearly 8,000 feet. At one point, I swear to God and all things holy, it snowed so bad that it was a complete whiteout! Meanwhile, the road was every bit as aggressive as the Dragon, just way shorter. My body shook so badly from chills that I feared I would dump Brian’s bike. The snow was piling up on the windshield, and I kept an eye on the signs for Jerome, the town on the other side of what I now knew was a mountain pass we were riding through. I pulled into a lookout spot to check on Heather. She was delirious and just asked if we could get to town quickly. I hopped back on, and we ran down the last few miles. Five…… Four …… Three…….. Finally, we started to see buildings built into the hillsides, which was the beginning of the town of Jerome. We pulled right up to the first warm-looking building we saw that might serve any hot beverage, and as it turned out, it was a place we had been referred to by our friend Grady, the Clinkscale.
I love history, so this whole part was great for me, and Heather, well, as soon as she thaws out and reads this, I’m sure she will realize we had a great time. Anyway, The Clinkscale was the original hardware store in Jerome in the late 1800s when it was a thriving copper mining town. Jerome thrived well into the 1920s and developed from a canvas and plank town to a respectable brick-and-board city. The discovery of other mines in the area, the lowering yield of its own, and the depression sealed the fate of Jerome by the 1950s when all mining there came to a close. The hardware store is now a lovely bed and breakfast. And boy, were we glad because we were greeted by the smell of hot fresh beignets at the door and immediately asked for an order of those and two coffees. Once we reached room temperature, we had a fantastic lunch and learned all about the town from our bartender. It was a great treat. Back outside, we felt good enough to walk around a bit; this town is a must-see. All kinds of little curio shops and oddities, but damn it, we missed the haunted cheeseburger at the Jerome Grand Hotel. Look it up. It’s quite a story. Always next time, we thought as we saddled up and headed down the other side of the hill that would bring us into Cottonwood.
It was no warmer, and once our tomato soup-induced euphoria wore off, we were freezing again. Just then, we saw a Dollar General and pulled in for anything warm to layer up with. When we exited the store, it looked like we had just run through a Salvation Army. The clothes we grabbed were ill-sized and mismatched colors and patterns, but the bottom line was that we were warm.
Coming back down towards Phoenix, I was so happy to see the Saguaros again, and even as the sun came down on the desert floor, we were warm and had a hell of a story to share with everyone back in town. A story about how Heather and I got too high to ride at Arizona Bike Week.
- We just got way too high! - May 3, 2024
- Friends Throwdown 2024 - April 26, 2024
- If I can Just Make It Across The Desert Part Two – The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly - May 4, 2023
2 comments
Great!
Been there done some of that ! Been to Jerome and surrounding areas a couple times and been great fun almost, the first time we went and did a balloon ride almost. Too long to tell here but it’s very interesting to say the least. Let me know if you want the rest of George’s birthday balloon ride.