Day eight
The few days after leaving the BLM land off of highway 82 were delightful. I packed up camp and put on shorts for the first time, and after a relatively short ride I passed by The Café in Sonoita and decided to take a break on their empty patio. Seeing how quickly I was going through my lemonade, the waiter brought me a small pitcher, which I drank while nursing a bison burger and sweet potato fries.
I had wondered if I should get a beef burger, considering that most of the land I’d been passing through for my trip had been ranch land. Some days I’ve been enjoying shouting hello to the cattle to see if they’ll look up at me, and wishing them good grazing for the day. I don’t think there are bison this far south, but I’ve been fascinated by them since I was a kid, and more recently learned that they’re North America’s last remaining native megafauna, and have an important ecological role that I’m not in a position to explain. I’ve heard that keeping an economic demand for their meat is one way to promote their continued stewardship, so I went with the bison burger.
Turning north onto highway 83, I explored the historic Empire Ranch before finding a camping site on Las Cienegas National Conservation Area. It was my first night on a designated campground. I left the rain fly off of my tent for the first time, and drifted off to sleep as more and more stars appeared above me.
Day nine
As I was getting coffee ready in the morning, a man walking his dog dropped by my site and noted the contrast of my bike and small tent against the RVs that occupied most of the campground. “I used to do it that way,” he said, “but in a canoe.” The man was wearing a camo vest and his dog was big.
As we were talking, he mentioned that I was petting a wolf. I told him my mom had grown up with a wolf, and he said he knew she was a better person because of it. The man’s name was Jim, and the wolf was Shelby. Jim mentioned at some point how he doesn’t eat beef, for political reasons, and I asked him to tell me more. He told me his thoughts on ranchers’ misuse of public lands, and unnecessary slaughter of local wolf populations.
We started talking more openly, with Jim telling me I’ve got to be careful around here with so many close-minded people. I mentioned that it wasn’t like I was flying a rainbow flag from my bike, to which he grimaced slightly and said “Yeah, if you are gay, don’t go advertising that around here.” He said he got his camo vest for wildlife photography, but that he found it helped him fit in, too.
The ride north to Tuscon was beautiful, with some winding parts of the road as I climbed briefly, then descended a mountain range almost all the way to the city. I made a detour to a vegan burrito food truck that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and did not disappoint.
Day ten
I stayed two nights in Tuscon with my Grandpa Pete. He said he would give me one quick hug, then we would need to keep our distance for COVID safety. I hadn’t seen him since my wedding, more than seven years ago, and I was glad to have a little time with him. His back patio looks over Mount Lemmon and has a collection of whirligigs and metal silhouettes of southwest flora and fauna: quails, javelina, flowering barrel cactus. I started in the “horse” bedroom, with found horse artwork hung on every wall.
I used my full day in town to bike part of The Loop bike path that circles the city, following the Santa Cruz River on the west, and the Pantano Wash on the east. I’ve learned that my working definition of a river as a moving body of water needs to be adjusted for the desert—all I saw were beds of dry sand.
I got competitive when someone biked past me as I was just getting started, keeping a 20+ mph pace until I caught up and passed. That accomplished, I picked up groceries from Trader Joe’s, an amazing vegan ropa vieja from Tumerico for lunch, and more fuel and a new backpack from REI.
I misjudged my timing to get back to Grandpa Pete’s, arriving just as the sun wassetting. He told me how he was able to get his first dose of the COVID vaccine that day, and headed to bed early. I went about packing the groceries I had bought into my new backpack and boxing up the old one to ship home along with a couple things I had found I hadn’t needed.
I had a terrible time getting to sleep that night, feeling anxious about the long day ahead of me: a 120 mile ride through the Tohono O’odham reservation, which has no accommodations and is not open for camping. I checked the weather, noting a headwind forecast for most of the afternoon.