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Some months ago, Jim Smith acquired a photo, dated 1909, showing his grandfather exiting the Red Bird Mine, near Willcox, Az. Jim thought it would be fitting to get a photo of his grandfather's grandson (him) exiting the same mine 100 years later. AJ supplied the 4-wheel drive vehicle, and I went along as an alternate photographer. We were unsuccessful in our quest, as no one was willing to wield a bolt cutter to open the locked gates, but we did visit with a couple of old timers from that area, and came away with the phone number of the person who owns the land (and presumably the gate keys).


I suspect that Karren will be pressed into service as a telephone solicitor, and when/if she obtains the necessary approbation, we may return for a second attempt. It is my guess that finding the mine may be more difficult than gaining permission to search. At any rate, I took advantage of the travel to complete another leg of my bicycle trip.



My plan was to meet AJ in Benson (where I would leave my vehicle), accompany him and Jim to find the mine, and then bicycle from Willcox to Benson. When it came time to implement the last part of that plan, I found I had developed some strong misgivings about riding on the freeway. I had checked out the legality, but the thought of that many cars, truck, campers, boats, drunks, etc. going that fast that close was un-nerving. As it turned out, there was actually much more room than on a regular highway and I didn't even feel the wind from the big rigs, but I just about canceled the ride before starting.


One slight problem I did encounter was an irregular surface.



I suspect that some worker on a resurfacing job misunderstood his boss, and roughened the pavement on the shoulder, that should not have been roughened (you just can't get good help these days). Over much of the distance, they had missed the outer 2 to 4 inches and I rode on that. It slowed me down, but it only lasted a couple of miles.


The ride to the rest stop in Texas Canyon was unremarkable (uphill against the wind, but for me that's pretty much the norm).



Texas Canyon itself is pretty, and on a bicycle you have more time to enjoy it.


It is pretty much downhill from there into Benson, so I was looking forward to an uneventful finish to the trip.



Wrong!

I noticed a frontage road running along the north side of the freeway, so I hopped over on to it. In about 300 yards, the road went under the freeway and headed off towards St. David.


So, I started up the ramp to re-enter the freeway. At that point, I noted a spongy feeling from my front tire. It quickly went flat, and upon inspection I found a... branch (for lack of a better word) in it. It was round and had a diameter slightly larger than a common round toothpick (excuse the blurry photo, non-SLR cameras are a challenge for me...), but it was completely flat on both ends, and the hole it created was too large for the slime in the tire to seal (though, when I changed the tire, there was evidence that the slime had sealed three other holes). That has to be a one-in-a-million occurrence, but when the probability is finite, the event will eventually happen (but why it usually happens to me remains a mystery). In preparation for this ride, I had taken great pains to locate and load all the tools, tubes, pumps, patch kits, etc. I could possibly need, but in the hassle transferring to AJ's truck, I managed to leave them safely locked in the trunk of my car. I calculated it to be 8 miles to Benson (8.2 by the car's odometer when I drove back to get the bike). I called AJ and he offered to rescue me, but I figured it would take him two hours to arrive, and decided I would rather walk for three hours than wait for two.



It's illegal to walk along the freeway (the entrance actually had a posted sign so stating), and a passing Highway Patrolman would have limited his services to calling a tow truck (somehow I just couldn't see paying $100 plus to have my bicycle "towed" to Benson). My plan was to walk along Sybil road towards St. David until I crossed the railroad, and then follow it to Benson. After walking about ¼ mile, I came to a "petroleum" pipeline. It seems to me that pipelines run pretty much in a straight line, and this one seemed to be heading right where I wanted to go.


So, I followed it. The ground still had it's original contours, but the surface was pretty smooth and there was no vegetation. A pretty easy walk...



The problem was, that I am not used to walking. After three miles of straight and relative level, the pipeline dropped down off the mesa, and crossed a pair of very busy (I counted 8 trains in the two hours I walked parallel to it) railroad tracks. I followed the tracks until coming near the freeway frontage road, and then follow it straight to my car.


This sign was a very welcome sight, but disguised the unfortunate fact that my vehicle was still two miles distant.

When I finally finished hiking (3 hours, 31 minutes), I was one tired pup. And, the memory lingers. It has been many years since I have been this sore. On the positive side, I have now completed the route from Casa Grande to Willcox, and while I may not have proven it conclusively, I have at least provided strong antidotal evidence for the contention that there is no fool like an old fool.


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