Conclusion 2022 Recap Day 8

Day 8: September 17, 2022
Peach Springs, Arizona to
Barstow, California

April 12, 2024

California!

Having arrived in Peach Springs the day before, I found myself reflecting on a major change to the operation going forward: In the parking lot of the Hualapai Lodge on Saturday, my safety rider and off-road scout, Lloyd Hill, loaded up his trusty BMW R1200GSA into the bed of Andy Faust’s truck to begin the first leg of his long road home to south Florida because of that four-letter word we all hate hearing… “work.” It was a bittersweet moment for us all, I think. Lloyd’s direct assistance for so much of this endeavor was coming to an end, and I was sad to lose his counsel as well as that of his friend Andy. Within an hour or so after waking up, we were down to three (Willie, Glen, and me) for the remaining three days to reach San Francisco.

Hualapai Lodge: I had booked rooms for us all in Peach Springs at the Hualapai Lodge, which I think may be the only hotel in town. The Lodge is operated by the Hualapai Tribe of Native Americans upon whose reservation the Lodge sits.

Unfortunately for us, the Lodge also sits a few hundred yards from a major freight railway, one that apparently extends east through Nelson and beyond to Flagstaff. The frequency of the trains through the night caused me to recall a scene from the popular film, My Cousin Vinny, when they discovered their hotel was next to noisy train track. I must have heard 20 trains passing through all night long, blowing their horns as they approached the grade crossing nearby the Lodge. Needless to say, I was highly motivated to make it to Barstow where I might get some rest.

The Peach Springs Trading Post: One of the more colorful stories that C.K. Shepherd included in Chapter 19 of his book was that of his arrival in Peach Springs. He had, for some reason, anticipated that Peach Springs would be a metropolis, so he was surprised to hear from the operator of what seemed to be a remote Trading Post that he was actually in Peach Springs. It seems C.K. Shepherd obtained fuel, foodstuffs, and supplies from the Trading Post proprietor, Everett H. Carpenter, who had built the Trading Post in 1917 at the edge of the “Hualapai Indian Reservation.” Two years after C.K. came through, Carpenter took on a partner, Ancel Taylor, who soon took bought Carpenter out. In 1926, Taylor tore the old wooden Trading Post down and erected a new stone building at the same location. This building is, today, listed in the National Register Historic Places and currently houses the office for the Hualapai Tribal Forestry Department.

The photo of the Trading Post as it appeared in 1918 (below) is included as Figure 197 in my book, Across America by Motor-Cycle – Fully Annotated Centennial Edition. It is probably very much as it appeared to C.K. Shepherd when he arrived in early August 1919. The side of the building in 1918 reflects the name of the proprietor, E.H. Carpenter.

Before we left town, I walked across the street from the Hualapai Lodge to take a photo in front of the building reconstructed in 1926.

Peach Springs to Kingman: Our search for a local coffee shop or similar in Peach Springs yielded no results, so we departed Peach Springs for Kingman with a hankering for some coffee and proper breakfast.  Kingman was some 50 miles down old Route 66, but it was the first place we might find breakfast. I didn’t think resuming my ride on an empty stomach was a smart thing to do, especially with my smaller road crew, so we trailered down to Kingman.

After breakfast in Kingman, I rode the Red One straight down the main drag, leaving town by passing under the I-40 overpass whereupon I intended to turn left onto the frontage road and head southwest on that gravel road for at least 15 miles toward Yucca. From my scouting trip in 2018, I remembered that the road conditions might be questionable for me to ride those 15 miles, but I had not remembered the entrance to the frontage road.

Glen, who was riding in front of me with the map loaded into his Garmin, missed the turnoff to the frontage road entry point because it was not indicated by any sign and didn’t quite look like a road.  I saw the turnoff just as I was upon it, so I stopped to wait for Glen to come back. It turned out that this unplanned stop would be fortuitous.

A guy pulled up behind me in a pickup truck and got out. He was wearing a t-shirt with the old classic Excelsior logo on the front. I knew he was a friend of old motorcycles, so I looked forward to saying hello. It turned out this was “Mike,” the mysterious internet guy who had suggested we stop at the Friendship Run the day before.  He had seen us riding through Kingman and began pursuing us in his truck to personally introduce himself. Thanks again Mike and glad we got the chance to meet.

After our brief exchange with Mike, off we went down the frontage road. Glen was on point, as usual, and I was behind him riding the Red One with Willie bringing up the rear. Glen was riding a true street motorcycle, so when the road turned to gravel and then “washboard” gravel, I got concerned this was a road that Willie - at least - might not enjoy riding for the next 15 miles, so I stopped and we made the call... turn around and trailer the Red One to Trails Arch Bridge.

I longed for my now-missing safety and off-road scout rider, Lloyd, who I know could have made quick work of scouting the complete 15-mile road. He still might have returned to tell me that this was not a trail for me, as it had several sandy “washes” and rocky sections, but it seems an intrepid Google Street View driver was up for the challenge in February 2023, because Google photographed the complete section of road I missed out on. You can view the Google Street View “2023 scout ride” beginning here.

The Trails Arch Bridge: In his 1919 book, C.K. Shepherd described reaching Topock, Arizona, which was a very small town that had grown up around a railroad station. C.K. wrote, “we come to rest under a great shelter thatched with straw that has been erected by the roadside opposite the restaurant the only building in the town beside the railway station. A few yards further on was a massive steel bridge 400 yards long that spanned the Colorado.” The bridge C.K. described was the Trails Arch Bridge, a single-lane bridge built in 1916 specially for automobiles (the previous bridge required sharing traffic with trains). Immediately below is photo of the Trails Arch Bridge taken December 1, 1919 (annotated to show Topock, Arizona at left and California at right). Next is a photograph of the Red One and rider at the Trails Arch Bridge taken September 17, 2022.

The same Trails Arch Bridge remains standing today, but it is no longer used for vehicle traffic. Today, it serves as a natural gas and utility conduit. We unloaded the Red One at a conveniently-located parking lot with an excellent view of the Trails Arch Bridge. I performed a few minor service checks and left there with a small hope of riding some 130 miles to Ludlow, California with a stop at the plaza in Needles in front of El Garces Hotel (a Harvey House establishment built in 1908 and connected to the Needles rail station).

Needles: Unfortunately, there aren’t many secondary roads to ride on in that area, so I hit the gas on the Red One and raced down the onramp to I-40 westbound in Topock. The Red One can easily cruise above 60 MPH, but it seems needlessly risky to the machine (and rider) to sustain that speed on an interstate highway with car and truck traffic, so we cruised west on I-40 at about 50 MPH and let others pass by us. Merging a 100-year-old motorcycle onto an interstate with faster traffic was a challenge that was not entirely risk free.  We rode in pretty tight formation.  Glen rode on point with his head on a swivel looking for – and calling out – the “least-worst” merge options (e.g. “after this white Ford!”) on our intercom. I rode close to Glen with Willie tight behind me. When we got near the end of the onramp, I stayed in the right part of the merge lane. Willie picked his spot, put his signals on, and aggressively slid over to “occupy” the right lane on the highway (allowing faster traffic to pass us in the left lane), telling me that I was clear to merge. This was something we perfected over time, but it was much easier when the onramp was downhill like it was in Topock. I was actually probably doing 65 MPH when we effected the merge onto I-40 in Topock.

Once established in the right lane on the Interstate, I allowed the Red One to slow to a more comfortable cruise speed of 50 MPH. As the procession of cars and trucks would pass us, we had more than a few double-takes from drivers and passengers who came alongside to see what the hold-up was. Often with non-believing wide eyes, they would often slow down to gawk and take pictures. They might not have known what a 1919 Henderson was, but they sure had a story to tell when they got where they were going. I just kept the throttle almost wide open and eyes ahead looking for the first exit we could take, seven more miles west, so we could ride on secondary roads into Needles.

Of Needles, C.K. wrote, “I was surprised to find, was very much bigger than I had expected. It is now a good-sized town and its main street a bustle of activity. After disposing of a steak at a Chinese restaurant, I bought a book and retired to the square. There I took off my tunic, rolled up my shirt sleeves and lay on the grass beneath the tall, thick palm trees and whiled away the hot afternoon hours.”

About one mile before we reached the first exit to Needles, we passed through a California Agriculture Inspection Station. Glen told the agent that there were three vehicles in our party. The woman waved Glen and I through, but asked Willie what was in the trailer (“motorcycle parts” was his answer) and they waved him through as well.

Much like the Trails Arch Bridge, the building housing the old El Garces Hotel remains standing today. Likewise, Needles has preserved the square near where C.K. retired after his steak dinner before heading out to camp in the desert. We did not stop in Needles for much more than a photo on the square.

Pretending that my belly was full of steak from a Chinese restaurant (I never did locate the establishment where C.K. could have enjoyed a steak dinner in 1919) and pretending we had taken a siesta on that square, I weaved my way right, left, right, and left again through and north of Needles until there was no other option to get back on I-40 westbound for another eight and a half miles.

We got off I-40 at Exit 133 where US 95 (also County Road 66) departs to the north. We rode US 95 north to the beginning of Goffs Road. There, we turned left on Goffs Road to stay on old Route 66 while US 95 continued north toward Las Vegas, Nevada.

Back in 1916, the Auto Club of Southern California had documented the route of the National Old Trails Road across the nation, including across the Mojave Desert. That Club’s map number 7 and 6 illustrate the old roads that C.K. would have ridden. Many of the roads shown are still there, but Interstate 40 makes a more direct route and only Fenner and Ludlow are “on” I-40 with an exit.

I cannot be sure, but I believe Goffs is where C.K. had breakfast after bedding down in the Mojave Desert northwest of Needles. The map key shows that Goffs had lodging, meals, and fuel.  Today, Goffs is a sparsely-inhabited community with a few buildings, all well off the old Route 66. After Goffs, the 1916 map shows the National Old Trails Road continuing southwest to Fenner and then Danby, generally paralleling the railroad tracks.

In 2022, while riding from Needles to Fenner, we were kept company by numerous freight trains going each way on tracks that paralleled the road. If they happened to see us on the road, they often leaned on their air horn, no doubt reacting to their unexpected encounter with a hundred-year-old motorcycle like the Red One chugging along out in the middle of the desolate Mojave Desert.

We pulled into the gas station at “Najah’s Desert Oasis” in Fenner. C.K. Shepherd would have traveled through Fenner, and may have stopped for fuel, but would have continued southwest across the Mojave Desert past the rail stations at Danby, Cadiz, Amboy, and Bagdad before reaching Ludlow.  C.K. claimed he arrived in Ludlow at 4 PM after riding 200 miles that day. However, it was only 100 miles from outskirts of Needles to Ludlow. But considering the desert road we rode in 2022, as well as how much more barren and harsh it must have been in 1919, it may well have seemed like 200 miles to C.K. Shepherd.

You Can’t Get There From Here: Shortly after I arrived at Najah’s, I felt like I was a character in the classic humorous “Bert and I” story, “Which Way to Millinocket?,” recorded in 1958 by Robert Bryan & Marshall Dodge. I was playing the role of the hapless motorist who pulled over to obtain directions from a helpful “local.”

After refueling, I had hoped to continue riding past Fenner on the old National Old Trails Road through Danby, Amboy, and on to Ludlow. I will forever remember the Najah Desert Oasis clerk’s quizzical expression when I inquired, “how’s the road to Ludlow was if I continue down 66 on the National Old Trails Road?” Her facial expression betrayed what she seemed to want to say: “You ain’t all there boy, are you?”

But she was patient with me, speaking slowly using small words in a contrived artificially polite tone, much like one might address a second-grader. I reflect on the ironic humor of this encounter. She probably felt like she was communicating with the most ignorant visitor she had ever met.  She informed me about what apparently everyone else within a hundred miles knew except me: The Mojave Desert south of Fenner had, just a few weeks earlier, been deluged by four inches of rainfall in just three days and the road was not only closed, but completely missing in some places!

Now that might not seem like enough rain to cause catastrophe where you live, but I later learned that this area typically sees temperatures upwards of 117 degrees in August and gets very little rainfall – ever – so the dry ground cannot absorb downpours like that. All that water quickly gathers steam and then races over the surface of the arid desert, washing away nearly everything in its path... pavement, bridge pilings, and signposts... just gone. So, I’m sure our good clerk was thinking: “What kind of lunatic – especially one riding this very old motorcycle contraption thing – is asking if the road is passable? Does he not realize all that rain just a few weeks ago caused flash flooding that washed out roads and even many bridges that had been built low across normally-dry washes?” She was probably thinking worse, but you get the picture… and I’m far enough down this memory lane rabbit hole as it is.

Flashback to 2018: At some point while unwittingly making a fool of myself to the Najah clerk, I had a flashback to my scouting trip in 2018. When I reached Najah’s on my scouting trip in 2018, I experienced the “technical rejection” of my planned route. My Garmin GPS simply did not want to guide me on any route southwest of Fenner toward Cadiz and on to Ludlow. When planning my route in Google Maps weeks before, I had not seen any problems. Besides, the road ahead looked clear! With blissful ignorance and perhaps just a bit of insolence, I took my Garmin’s denial as a personal challenge and continued down this allegedly impassable road.  Less than five miles south of Fenner, I saw some structures near the side and then across the road. At first, I thought the signs were there to welcome me to this section of old Route 66, the National Old Trails Road. But as I got closer, these were definitely “keep out” signs. I had come upon a series of well-marked barricades at an intersection that emphatically declared and physically prevented any forward progress. I was forced to turn around and go back. Imagine that! The road really was closed!  When I reached the same area of the highway in 2022, things were even worse, hence the clerk’s award-winning theatrical performance.

There Was Nothing For It: The information I received from the clerk at Najah’s in 2022 and my recollection of my misadventures in 2018 led me to the inescapable (and firm) conclusion that I really could not get to Ludlow via the National Old Trails Road. I also learned that there was nothing ridable but Interstate in the hundred miles or so from Fenner to Barstow, so we loaded the Red One into the trailer and headed west... deeper into the hot desert for our overnight in Barstow where we would rest up for the next big day.

Rest for all in Barstow was the plan, but Willie had observed the trailer was always pulling on one side when he applied the electric brakes, and he decided to get to the bottom of it right then and there. I was unsure of the wisdom of setting up “pop-up” trailer repair center in the parking lot at the Best Western Desert Inn, but Willie was undaunted. He got his tools out, found a good “pull-through” parking spot with no cars nearby, jacked the right side of the trailer up, removed the wheels, and quickly located and re-attached the loose wire that had interrupted the electrical circuit to the brakes on the right side.

After confirming the repair, we headed out for dinner and refreshments, looking forward for the next day’s ride, into Los Angeles!

Stay tuned!

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