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Last time I wrote I was in Flagstaff, Arizona, home of Northern Arizona University. I suppose it's your typical small university town: nice downtown area with lots of drinking establishments. The day I was there it was NAU's homecoming so there was a parade, and apparently the theme of the parade was diversity, though all I saw were white, 18-22 year olds. The closest thing to diversity was the guy stuck in traffic behind the parade in his pimped out hooptie blasting distorted gangsta rap on his cheap delco radio. Made me think for a minute that I was back in Atlanta.

From Flagstaff I rode to Williams. Rather than ride on the interstate, I opted for a dirt forest road shown on the map. Unfortunately, it had rained a lot and the dirt forest road turned out to be mud and rocks. After an hour or so, I made my way back to the interstate. A few nice downhill miles later, I took an exit to an older loop of paved Route 66 through the forest, and followed that all the way into Williams.

Williams basically exists because of its proximity to the Grand Canyon, and when tourist season is over, the town pretty much empties out. The only reason I stopped there was to take the Grand Canyon Railway up to the canyon. At $60 it's rather expensive, but I like trains and it saved me 120 miles of riding.

The canyon itself is impressive, but I felt a little disappointed when I got there. I did walk a mile or so down the Bright Angel Trail (one of the trails that winds down to the river), and the canyon is much more interesting from below the rim. Maybe from the bottom it truly is awe-inspiring.

Leaving Williams involves a long downhill ride along the interstate. Near the small town of Ash Fork is the beginning of a 150 mile loop of old Route 66. Along the way is the Grand Canyon Caverns, which really have nothing to do with the Grand Canyon, but are interesting in that they are dry caverns 21 stories below the ground. I spent the night in a nearby hotel which is remarkable in that it is the only hotel I stayed in that didn't have cable tv. In fact, the tv got exactly 1 channel, and I got to watch a rather fuzzy baseball game.

From there I rode to Kingman, home of Mr. D'z Diner, a recent addition to Route 66, but run by a former head chef at some fancy restaurant in Las Vegas. The food was excellent, but what really put it over the top was the presentation. Even the french toast I had for breakfast looked more like a work of art than a meal. Mr. D'z is not your typical diner.

From Kingman I rode up and over the Black Mountains, through Oatman and on to Needles, California. The route through the Black Mountains is full of switchbacks and tight turns. It's probably a few thousand feet up to the pass, but after that, it's pretty much downhill all the way. Oatman is a former mining town that now caters to tourists. The town is known for the wild burros who hit the tourists up for food. The burros were there, as were the tourists. Not needing any postcards, cheap jewelry, or other trinkets, I just rode on through.

Once across the Colorado River into California, the terrain is basically desert. The town of Needles is the last stopping point before 150 miles of Mohave Desert. I spent a day in Needles just resting. The trip across the desert wasn't too bad. The entire trip was along old portions of Route 66, so there wasn't much traffic. Temperatures were in the 90's. The wind was from the west, and was particuarly bad in the mornings and evenings. I rode about 70 miles the first day and spent the night near Amboy. The next day I rode another 70 miles or so to Barstow.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. From Barstow, I rode a short 40 miles to Victorville. The next morning, I rode over the Cajon Pass and south to San Bernardino. From there it was 80 or so miles of city traffic to Santa Monica and the end of Route 66 near the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and Lincoln Boulevard. I rode the remaining few blocks to the beach, then rode south to Venice Beach and my cousin's house.

So, that's it. 2495 miles, 58 days (39 days of riding, 8 days of rest, 11 days in Albuquerque). Highest elevation I reached was about 7300 ft near the continental divide. Lowest, obviously, was sea level.

And I have no idea what I'm going to do now. Any suggestions?

Carl - dearcarl@yahoo.com

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-- MadisonBryan - 23 Oct 2001