3. dust devils

3. Dust devils
Leaving the rig and Misty at the RV Park in Benson, I rode with Mark and Renge on our bikes (Mark rides a GS 800 BMW, Renge is on a 650 BMW, my bike is a Suzuki VStrom) south to Patagonia to eat at the Tree of Life US, a holistic wellness and spiritual retreat center where they serve only raw foods. The office was just off a paved road (in a deeply graveled parking lot) where they collected our money, gave us name tags and the code to the lock on the gate across the road, and had us sign some kind of waiver; I’d left my glasses on the bike so I don’t know what I waived. I’m sure it wasn’t any more than required before making a skydive 😉 Mark is a serious off-road rider, and he assured the receptionist we were on off-road bikes that could handle the road. Renge has ridden with Mark a lot; I’ve ridden in the dirt a little, but don’t have the skills, confidence, or long legs that Mark has. After we rode up the steep hill on the rock-scattered, rutted dirt road to the restaurant, Renge assured me I’d now ridden more technical stuff than we would encounter on the next leg of the trip. I had no idea what I was getting into at the Tree of Life, after the waiver, locked gate, and rough road, but was delighted with the variety and excellent taste of their raw and obscenely healthy food. And the ride down was easier than the climb.

From the restaurant, we headed out into the desert on a dirt road, up to Canelo Pass. The ride was incredible and the views even better. It got dicey a few times with heavy gravel in sharp curves, but was well worth the effort, and it was a real confidence booster for me. It helped knowing Mark would help me pick up my bike if I hit a gravel gravity pocket. Even though I wore a full face helmet and stayed back from Mark’s cloud of dust, my lungs didn’t appreciate my enthusiasm, so they complained for a couple of days. Though I had a ball, perhaps, maybe, I won’t do that again – that way. Next time, I’ll wear a bandana or surgical mask – and ride in front. (Except then I’ll get lost.)

After three weeks in Benson, I was ready to get on the road again, though there were still many roads in the area I haven’t ridden. I loaded the motorcycle with major difficulties, hooked up the RV, and headed west to Casa Grande to visit my special friends, Bill and Jan. Casa Grande is hotter and dryer than Benson (here last night, low of 58, high today 84; Benson low of 48 and high of 76. So in Benson, I ran the furnace for a little while in the early morning and never turned on the AC. Here in Casa Grande, I don’t need the heater but I run the AC). Interestingly, this is an agriculture area where they grow cotton, pecans, dates, citrus, etc. When the farmers plow the desert (which, BTW, just doesn’t seem right), the dust cloud goes up several hundred feet, unless there’s a wind and then it blows across the highway and I practice holding my breath as I ride through on my bike. The dust devils love it here, dancing around like miniature, desiccated hurricanes.

Jan and I hiked with a group of 20 from this 55+ RV Park, up into the mountains above Lost Dutchman State Park near Apache Junction. I’m still amazed so many old people are in such good shape! They hike each Thursday, and they don’t pick easy strolls. This hike was just over four miles round trip, with a 1,000 foot elevation gain. We turned around at the Basin at 3,100 feet; to make the summit (Flatiron) was another 1,780 feet of elevation gain spread out over only one mile. The pictures don’t show how tired I got 😉

leaving Lost Dutchman parking lot

leaving Lost Dutchman parking lot


climbing higher

climbing higher


are we there yet?

are we there yet?


the Basin where we turned around

the Basin where we turned around


looking back at the mountain

looking back at the mountain

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