I slipped out of the MGM Grand early the next morning and wandered across Tropicana Avenue to the Hooters Hotel and Casino to retrieve the Harley. I rode east down Tropicana and made my way to I-515. I retraced my path into town and crossed over the Hoover Dam again and back into Arizona. They're building a new bridge over the Colorado River at the Hoover Dam, so I suppose it won't belong before most of the traffic will bypass the dam for the faster bridge route.
The new bridge going in at the Hoover Dam. It's kind of sad that a lot of people will miss winding their way down to the dam and crossing there, but it will improve the travel time for a lot of people.
Most of the morning was spent backtracking down US-93 to I-40 to Flagstaff. I had my first detour of the day planned for Flagstaff. I stopped in town long enough to fill up with gas, then headed out to go south toward Sedona. As I was leaving the gas station I heard an interesting rattle, but since I was pulling into traffic, I couldn't stop immediately and take a look. As soon as I was up to speed, the rattle was gone and I wrote it off to my imagination.
I wanted to check out Sedona, but wanted to get the birds-eye view of it versus just riding into town. I knew about an overlook that was not too far off of I-17, so decided I would try that. The overlook sits on a dirt road that actually runs down into the valley and into Sedona from the east. However, it's 12 miles of dirt road including switchbacks and other obstacles. Riding that distance, in those conditions on an Electra Glide, didn't sound like much fun. So, I opted to go the 7 miles to the overlook and bypass the ride down the side of the cliffs.
The overlook was 7 miles down Schnebly Hill Road (exit 320 off I-17 if you're interested in visiting it). Seven miles of dirt road wasn't much fun, but at the same time, the road wasn't in too bad of shape. There were a few washed out areas, but generally speaking, it was navigable. A couple of miles down the road, I passed a dump truck doing some road repairs. One of the workers warned me not to go past the overlook as the road got worse and he was certain I'd dump the Harley if I tried to make it down to Sedona. I assured him I was only going as far as the overlook and continued on down the road.
A view of (and from) Schnebly Hill Road.
Unfortunately, the rattle came back with a vengeance on Schnebly Hill Road. As soon as I got to the overlook, I began to inspect the bike to see if I could figure out what was loose. It didn't take much examination. I reached down and grabbed the left side exhaust with my gloved hand. The entire pipe shifted up and down. Further inspection showed that only one of the header bolts remained to hold the pipe in place.
Crap, the first mechanical malfunction on the ride and it occurs when I decide to get as far off the beaten path as I could. Oh well, there wasn't much I could do about it on the spot. I made sure the remaining bolt was as tight as I could get it and decided to make the best of my stop.
The view from the Schnebly Hill overlook of the Sedona Valley.
The view was incredible and well worth the trip. I could see across the Sedona Valley and into the town of Sedona, which was about 6 miles away. There were several sightseers there and one crazy rock climber who was fearless. She made me nervous just watching her. I snapped a couple of pictures of her. I couldn't believe how easily she moved across the rocks and at the edge of the cliff.
My buddy the rock climber sitting at the edge of the earth.
After getting a few pictures and enjoying the view for a few minutes it was time to make my way back along the 7 miles of dirt road, hit I-17 north and return to Grand Canyon Harley-Davidson in Bellemont. This was the same dealer I visited on my way out to Las Vegas a few days before. I had passed them an hour or so earlier on my way into Flagstaff and knew they were my best bet for getting the bike fixed. It would require me going backwards on I-40 for 10 miles, but at least I knew where it was and how to get there.
Another shot of the Sedona Valley. If you look closely, you can see the town of Sedona in the upper left of the shot.
I rolled into the Harley dealership and explained my problem to the service manager. He took a look to ensure that was the full extent of my problems and within a few minutes, had me back on the road. Total cost: $17.95. I don't think I've ever had my bike serviced in any manner for $17.95, so needless to say, I was thrilled. I actually questioned the girl who rang me up to make sure I heard right and she quoted the price correctly. All was good, I thanked the good folks at Grand Canyon Harley-Davidson and was back on the road in no time.
The side trip to the Sedona overlook, along with the 20 miles extra to get to the Harley dealer, and the stop for repairs had cost me about 3 hours. Now I needed to make up some time in order to get to Socorro, New Mexico, my planned stop for the night. It was already mid-afternoon and I still had 350 miles to cover.
I used I-40 to make up time and hauled butt across Arizona. As I rode across the desert the wind was stirring up huge dust devils. I could watch them travel from south to north and cross the interstate in front of me. My main goal was to make sure I timed it so that I didn't catch one of them as they were crossing. Besides the challenge of keeping the bike upright in the swirling winds, I didn't want the bike or me to get sandblasted.
I exited I-40 at Holbrook. At the bottom of the exit ramp I saw a young couple standing at the corner. They held a sign that said, “Two crazy hippies traveling across America without any money”. The guy had long hair and a beard and the girl was in a long dress with a cap on her head. They both just smiled and waved as the truck in front of me turned. I couldn't resist. I stopped and gave them a five dollar bill and wished them luck. I should have taken the time to pull the camera out and get their picture, but as usual, I passed up a great shot because I was in a hurry and trying to make up some time. Sometimes I can be a real butthead.
I passed back through Holbrook and turned south on US-180. I planned to take US-180 south and east into Springerville, AZ and then catch US-60 east to Socorro. A few miles south of Holbrook, I spotted what I thought was a stick in the road ahead. As I got closer, I realized that stick was moving and was actually a 4 foot rattlesnake slowly made his way across the highway. I gave him some space and roared past him. He was the first of 4 snakes I saw in the next 10 miles. The other 3 must have had worse luck than the first one because they were dead and pressed into the pavement.
A few miles east of Hunt, I saw a sign indicating US-180 was closed ahead and the detour was 180-Alt which veered off to the south and connected to AZ-61. I took the detour and turned east on AZ-61 which eventually hooked me back up with US-180 in St. Johns, AZ. I rode into Springerville and gassed up and rolled out of town on US-60 headed east. Springerville sits 13 miles west of the New Mexico state line, so my trek through Arizona was almost complete.
Elk crossing signs along US-180 and US-60 in Arizona and New Mexico.
The elk crossing signs on US-180 and US-60 were a little disturbing. I ride in Northern Virginia where we have way too many deer running around. But, the deer are pretty small. I couldn't imagine hitting an elk. Given their size, I suspect an elk hits a motorcycle rider just about square in the face. This wasn't leaving me with a warm and fuzzy feeling as I cruised down the road at 70 mph. Needless to say, I kept my eyes open, but luckily, never saw an elk.
Crossing the Continental Divide on the way back home. Note my cool Ed Hardy designed helmet in the foreground.
Since I was riding east, I was losing an hour and the daylight. I crossed the Continental Divide again. I passed through Pie Town, billed as “America's Friendliest Little Town”. The story of Pie Town goes like this. In the early 1920's Mr.Clyde Norman, a tall Texan and a WW1 veteran who liked to bake, began making dried apple pies at his upstart business on a piece of ground along the "Coast to Coast Highway" later to become U.S. 60. The word got around that the best pies anywhere were to be found at Pie Town.
I can't confirm or deny their claim for friendliness or the best pies. From my perspective, there was no one in town. In fairness, I didn't stop and check things out, but there weren't any cars around and it looked pretty deserted to me. Hopefully, I just passed through on a slow day and things are still rockin' in Pie Town.
George Strait has a great song called, “Cowboys Like Us”. The chorus has a line in it that says, “Cowboys like us sure do have fun, racin' the wind, chasin' the sun”. I think the songwriters, Bob DiPiero and Anthony Smith, got those lyrics backwards because I'm always, “chasin' the wind and racin' the sun” on my trips. This day was no different. As twilight settled in on the high New Mexico desert I saw a lot of wildlife in the fields on either side, but none made their way into the road (and no elk were spotted either). Night came as I was about 30 miles west of Socorro. The sun won the race on this day and I rode into Socorro in the dark.
US-60 t-bones into US-85 in Socorro. Had I taken a better look to my right, I would have seen my Motel 6 about a half a mile down the road. Somehow, I missed the giant Motel 6 sign though and took a left instead. I realized, after a mile and half, that I must have made a wrong turn. I made a u-turn and rode south, back the way I had come and rolled into the Motel 6 around 9:30.
I decided it was too much trouble to go out and get some dinner, so I walked across the street to the gas station and convenience store to see what I could scrounge up. I grabbed a couple of Tornadoes, a bag of BBQ Fritos, and 2 Coors Lights. The Tornadoes looked kind of like Taquitos you can get at 7-Eleven. I may have made a poor choice in the flavor, but I thought they were awful. I choked one of them down and had to toss the other one. My dinner of champions wound up being a bag of BBQ Fritos and the Coors Lights.
I finished the day with 681 miles under my belt and my head resting comfortably on my Motel 6 pillow. I was looking forward to the next day's ride. It would be taking me through one of my favorites areas, central New Mexico.
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