First a previous entry, then onto present day....
Day 5, Sunday 4-25-10 (2-26-10)
The morning is cool and is agreeable for good riding. The route will take me along Highway 40 to Topock. The road is narrow , two lane, for a 29 mile grade uphill to Oatman. I begin riding with full gear this time, translated into 115 pounds. I know it’s not going to be easy, but neither has anything else been in my life that I have faced, all resulting in good and a strengthening base of my optimistic outlook on life. I am alone out here and really feel a connection to the surroundings. It is broken with oncoming and passing vehicles. The bike is a little shaky due to the weight. It takes some time to adjust and gain control. The road becomes rolling with short dips, each time climbing to a higher plateau. I get to a point where I stop and look around and the distance I travel is deceptive. What I thought to be a 10 mile visual of the mountains is actually 20, maybe even 30 mile distance. It is very quiet and the sky is clear. I can hear the sounds of the tires rolling over the gravel periodically kicking them up under the fenders. The birds are singing as if talking to each other about the lone rider passing . A light wind dries the sweat and I have to stop several times to replenish my liquids. I finally arrive at a fork in the road where the sign “Oatman” points in the direction of more hills to climb. I finally arrive at the outskirts of the town noting a picture of a burro with the words, “Watch for Burros.” Further up are the remains of corrugated buildings that appear to have been living quarters for one of 8,000 residents who once inhabited Oatman. The closer I get to town the burros become evident. I noticed one or two of them in the hills walking the direction that I am riding, and upon arriving into town I see 4 to 6 burros roaming the streets. The length of the street is roughly 400 yards with wooden buildings of the early 1900s. Wooden awnings cover the wooden slats that run from one end of town to the other, on both sides. I ride past the burros and the people who are tourists , and some wave with a nod of approval as I climb the remaining four miles to Sitesgrave.
Since the early years of 1850 Oatman has gone through many changes. In the early 1700s exploration by the Spanish Catholic Priests was unsuccessful, and they abandoned their stay. In the 1850s the Mojave Indians, natives of the Mojave Valley, began dealing with the white people. In 1858 a massacre of an immigrant party resulted in posting soldiers to the Camp Colorado, which was renamed Fort Mojave. These soldiers were also the first prospectors in mining silver and gold. In 1890 it became a Federal Indian School due to the Army vacating the premises.
In 1900 silver and gold mining was established and a post office was moved from the town of Vivian to Blue Ridge Camp, at which time the town was renamed Oatman. Qatman continued to prosper and Camp 49 was established, which was the Red Light District. It became part of Route 66 in 1926, and saw many Midwesterners pass through during the Depression years in search of jobs in California. It survived the Second World War, even after the Government acquired needs for other minerals for the war effort. Needless to say the mines were closed. Route 66 continued to thrive by those traveling to the West Coast.
The freeways that were developed in the fifties bypassed Oatman and the Black Hills. From a population of 8,000 the town became very quiet with only 40 or so inhabitants. It was not until 1980 that Laughlin, Nevada, and the reestablishment of Route 66 breathed life and tourism back into Oatman, which became the lifeblood of the town. The gold mine opened and closed in the 1990s due to fluctuations of the price of gold. It opened up again bringing in tourists and reestablishing its existence. Today it employs 150 local residents.
It should be noted this section of the bike ride took place some time at the end of February, early March which is why this day’s journal reflects two separate dates. I had some time on my hands and knew from a previous trip what this road would entail. So, I drove out with my bicycle and gear using this as a training ride. I felt if I could do this at that time that I would be more than ready to endure what would lay before me.
Coming to the present day, 4-25-10, I start my ride from the top of Sitesgrave, 3652 feet. I had my daughter and Richard drop me off at the top of the pass. Richard helped me load my gear onto my bike while Vanessa took pictures. With hugs and kisses and words of encouragement I began my descent into Kingman. Fat boy is not with me on this day. I feel the absence of my shadow and realize how very fortunate I am for having a loyal friend. I will miss our small talk and his quick wit with words that brought us laughter. It is very warm today, a breeze to my back. Descending was very slow due to the weight of the gear and the switchbacks on the road. I pass an abandoned building with the fading words, Ed’s Camp. This at one time was a weigh station and a desert style flea market. I continued on down the road and stopped at Cool Springs, a refurbished gas station store with restaurant. I walk inside and inquire as to the whereabouts of the restroom. With a smile she pointed and said, outside and to the left you will see the outhouse. I walked out to use the facilities and stood for a moment imagining what this road, which at that time was unpaved, must have looked like in the 1900s. The old cars, trucks, and people walking with all of their personal belongings -- the people from the heart of this nation, Americans, now outcasts and no longer truly accepted. They were given condescending names such as Oakies by some, but there were those who sympathized with their struggle and their plight assisting these wayward souls. They were an unwanted people in the states where they were seeking their fortune. Their strong willed upbringing gave them the fortitude to endure despite the cruelty and ignorance they suffered. It’s a shame the emphasis on the goodness of people is not told in greater detail. It seems we thrive on the negative because that’s more interesting.
I reached Kingman after a nice descent followed by a climb, which as they say what goes down must come up and I’m finding that I like the downhill roll but hate giving it back. I found myself stopping several times to drink. I finally came up to the Kingman City Limits Sign and dug deep down to overcome the fatigue, arriving in Kingman by 4:30 pm. I traveled down Main Street Route 66, stopped at JBs Restaurant to have my dinner and then proceeded to the KOA Campground, where I lay weary bones with thoughts of the next day’s ride. Another beautiful day and a reminder that Life is Good.
Tomorrow Kingman to Peach Springs.
Love you all
Take care
Old Man Sleeping with a Smile
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