Up the hill to Oak Flats and a Bobcat, day 8: 05-16-11 (the best ride, yet)

This was the best day of riding, yet.

It took me half the day again, just to get out of metro Phoenix, but once I did, I felt the freedom rush in, again.  I was headed towards a major climb at the end of the day and a few mining towns on the way.  But, I didn't have a map!

Just before I left Mesa, AZ, I tried several gas stations, grocery stores, and finally sat, dismayed, to have a burrito.  Then, when I prepared to just head out through Apache Junction, I caught the visitor's center and swooped on in.  They were so helpful!  And one was even a cyclist, scaring me silly about the climb at the end of my day, and a mad tunnel on the way, "The deadliest in the west," she said.  Well, I was on my way.

I hit Superior just past 4 o'clock and stopped into the "Saving Money Mart," the only place in town that looked like it had life.  Turns out, it was just a sleepy afternoon and the town is actually back on the rise.  Four dollars, some fruit, and a bit of energy later, the guy leaning against the wall outside said, "That's a ten percent grade," and I said, "Wish me luck!"

Halfway up, I gawked and wanted to call everyone I know, imagining them riding up with me to this beautiful place.

Well, it was a climb, but it was like climbing further into OG old west.  Mountains, hawks, old rail bridges, and lots and lots of rock.  Oh, and death defying swerves on a no-shoulder mountain road, oddly busy with endless semis and trucks.

But the beauty of the canyon was calming, and when I reached Oak Flats campground I was on a cloud.  But I also cared for my person and got off the road.

The campsite was a short, cool ride down into the canyon forest.  From first sight, it seemed I might be the only one there.  Luckily, there were a few other campers, because I hadn't prepared to stop short of the town, Globe, and had very little water.  There were no RVs, no hookups, no electricity, no water, just an outhouse and only a few primitive sites amid a gorgeous oak grove.  Oh, and one tiny little sign on the Forest Service Information Board that read, "Warning: Campers scratched and bitten by bobcats currently being treated for rabies."  Finally, a real campground!

Look, there's a cow!  

Before it got dark, I sheepishly paraded around the camp and found an elderly couple and a few state employees out to determine whether people were illegally stocking the water holes nearby with foreign fish species.  Hm...you learn all kinds of things while touring.  I got a bottle and a half of water from each and settled into my patch of dirt and tree.  I still would have to ration, but at least I would wake up a little less dehydrated and a little more clean.

I found a bit of shelter form the wind and set my water to boiling.  Despite how gross these man-on-the-moon meals are, it's always incredibly comforting to sit cozy in a tent on a cold mountain, slurping the broth-sauce and chewing the hard bits of noodles that didn't quite soften.  Even the bits of veggies...anyway, it takes the stove a while to do its thing, so between checking that it hadn't tipped over, that no ants had found their way in, and dismantling my rig for the night, I set up my tent.  Then, when I was zipping down the rain fly, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  There, swear to god, was a bobcat, sniffing about the stove.  My first thought was, shoot, my food!  I don't need rabies, though, so...I hid behind the tent, he ran off (he doesn't like dehydrated primavera, apparently), I ran to get the food, closed up the stove, and didn't leave the tent for the rest of the night (except for a quick pee.) 

During the wee, I noticed the full moon.  God, was it gorgeous.  I basked for a moment, at the view (unfortunately the outhouse was part of the visage.) 

I read my book, said goodnight to the moon, felt a pang of loneliness, remembered where I was, and lay down, completely at peace, to rest for the night.