Ride with the Eagle

June 9th, 2008 · No Comments

19 North

Yuma, Arizona, 282 Miles

I’ve spent the past four days meditating and rejuvenating at a wonderful, hidden sanctuary near Tubac, Arizona. A story for another time and place, but a small piece bears retelling here.

After this morning’s meditation, one of my fellow retreaters came up to me and said . . .

“I went outside the lodge and lay down in a favorite spot while the rest of you were inside meditating. A very large eagle began to circle above the lodge. Then it came over and circled where I was. Then it flew over and circled where your motorcycle is parked. Then it came back and circled the lodge. And then it flew off. I thought you’d like to know that.”

I can’t think of a better sign.

Six or so hours later I was loaded and ready to roll. Time to ride again. It was 106 in the shade as I dropped the bike off the center stand and headed down the dirt road towards Hwy 19.

Riding in that kind of heat takes some serious preparation. I have a vest and a bandanna made of a special fabric that absorbs huge volumes of water. The idea is to soak both, and put them on over a polypro T-shirt (brrrrr) and then put your motorcycle jacket over the whole of it. The vest and bandanna, closed up inside the jacked, act as a swamp cooler keeping your core and neck cool via evaporation. And it works.

By Tucson, 50 miles up the road, the bandanna is already completely dried out. The vest has probably lost half the water. The temperature is stuck at 103. An hour later it’s dropped to 100 and then 96 where it stays.

The ride takes me west on highway 8, straight into the sun. Straight into the sun. I barely have to nudge the bars until I turn off for gas. I have on a dark smoke visor and sunglasses underneath. I can feel the sanctuary and the retreat receding both physically and psychically. By Yuma, four and half hours later, it’s almost like it never happened. By the time I pull into room 165 in the Oak Tree Hotel at Exit 2, I’m firmly back in the world I left a week ago.

Still, it’s not like it never happened. As I ride I can still feel the exquisite feeling of calm and quiet. The blinking of my radar detector periodically draws my attention. In the calm and the quiet, apparently I loose any sense of speed as well. Fortunately, I fail to draw the attention of the local constabulary. Or maybe it’s that eagle looking out for me.

Dinner comes courtesy of Penny’s Diner, the landmark that drew me to the Oak Tree Motel. Exit two in Yuma is thick with every lodging franchise known to western man . . . I can see one of every Marriott roadside property without turning my head: Courtyard by Marriott, Fairfield Inn, Springhill Suites, Residence Inn, and Town Place Suites. There are two Best Westerns. There is a Motel 6. There is a Wyndham property. There is a La Fuente. There are many more than that, all suckling up to this one exit like it was the foster mother for wayward travelers. Under the weight of so much glaring signage and roomage, the sight of a proper steel sided diner was a welcome beacon. Right next to it was the Oak Tree. That’s how I made my choice.

Showered and mostly clean, I clomped over to visit Penny’s. Settled onto stools at the counter were the railroad men I had met when I first checked in. I had asked the lady at the counter the obvious question, “Why all the motels?”

“There are a lot of contractors in Yuma. Mostly that’s who stays here.”

“Contractors?”

“Yeah, mostly because of the railroads.”

Oh.

The men were all tucked into big plates of “grub.” At least that’s how I imagined they thought of it. I selected neither the counter nor the grub and instead ordered a BLT. It came out with half the presence that the mouth watering menu description had promised.

The gal who waited on me, and by virtue of working at Penny’s Diner she surely must qualify as a gal, was pleasant and reasonably attentive. After taking my order she stood idly doing something I didn’t see, singing along to whatever it was blaring out of the speakers overhead. I didn’t know the song. Beyond that she left no impression. I ate and left. My guess is that she had the same sense from me.