I asked a dear friend of mine, Ron, to join me on my Stamping Expedition so we set a time to meet this morning and did so at the location most familiar to us Southerners... the Waffle House!

After breakfast Ron believed he had discovered the source of my "endless energy": grits!  Ok, so being ADHD has something to do with it but, hey, I do love eating grits!  During breakfast I showed Ron the intended route I had chosen though he didn't seem overly concerned since he knows the likelihood of me following a pre-planned route is about the same as it snowing today.  We both were excited about exploring new areas that are remote and off the main thoroughfares... and of course, picking up a stamp or two.  So, we finished up at the Waffle House (by the way, it's not the same when the employees don’t' have a thick Southern accents) and took off down MC-85 (Maricopa County road) towards Gila Bend.  Ten minutes later and the first of many "Hey, let's go this way instead" detours.  Old Highway 80 runs parallel to MC-85 and offers a more pleasant experience than just running 65mph down a 2-lane county highway dodging big rig trucks and RV'ers heading/to San Diego or Tucson from Phoenix and north (MC-85 connects I-10 and I-8).

Old US-80 is also a 2-lane road but it's biggest rigs are usually in the form of John Deere tractors tending to the farmland, and almost always the drivers extend a wave when passing.  The few visible residential properties are mobile homes that look like they lost the war with the violent Arizona sun long ago.  So, given the remoteness of the area, I was quite shocked to see this:

Shrimp?  Out in the middle of nowhere in the desert?  My only thought was perhaps this is a good example of how extended exposure to the blazing heat can effect someone's rational thinking.

I always prefer the backroads and side roads to the fast, boring interstate (like I-8).  Although the two roads usually run in parallel, they share little in common.  So much more opportunity can be had on what my GPS refers to as "Minor" roads than on the rat race of the superslab (interstate).  The pace is different, the views and signage are different.  More personal, more unique.  These people are not going anywhere since the little community you pass through is where they call home.  Gas stops don't have screaming kids unloading out of the SUV that are trying to get from point A to point B and do so as quickly as possible.  Those travelers are on the interstate.  Today Ron and I are taking the road less traveled.

We made it down the 45 miles or so to Gila Bend, AZ where I-8 meets MC-85 for the trek to the US/Mexican Border.  I stopped to take a photo of the sign since it marks the road less traveled for me:

As MC-85 South departs Gila Bend, it runs through the Barry M. Goldwater Range, an area spanning 2.7 million acres in the middle of nowhere, which is also called the Sonoran Desert.  This range serves the US Air Force and US Marines as an armament and high-hazard testing area as well as a training area for aerial gunnery, rocketry, electronic warfare, etc.  Our first clue we had entered an unusual area was the presence of fighter jets swarming in the air just above us.  Reminded me of the time I unknowingly was passed alongside by a USN Blue Angel  The land is cooperatively managed by the USAF, USMC, US Fish & Wildlife, Bureau of Land Management, and AZ Game & Fish since it also includes the places that have my two stamps... the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument and the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge.  Despite all these organizations, there is very little signage or acknowledgement denoting such in the area.  As Ron and I continued riding down MC-85 we noticed several other odd things such as a small boat as well as a small airplane or two that were all very much intact but given the vegetation their arrival begged questioning.  Since there was no place to pull over at the time I couldn't take a photo of these strange sights but here's what the area looks like:

Later in the day while eating lunch in Why, AZ, I asked a camouflaged uniformed gentleman about the sites and was told they were strategically placed as targets for pilot training.  The soldier I met was from South Carolina, said he was an Army airplane mechanic and was deployed here a month ago to assist the US Border Patrol.  See what you get when you take the road less traveled... seeing boats in the desert, eating in Why, AZ, and sights like this:

The small town of Ajo, AZ is roughly 45 miles south of Gila Bend and is the first place of any human existence when traveling south.  Ajo (pronounced Ah-HO) is also where we started seeing numerous and frequent roadside shrines.  These shrines were extremely elaborate and many had lights, candles, fencing of some kind, ornate religious decorations, toys, flowers (both fresh & artificial) etc.  Having traveled all over the US, I can say that the desert Southwest, particularly Arizona seems to have more of these scenes.  I'm using the word "scene" as a descriptive word and not implying judgement of any kind.  To see how rural the area is I'm referring to simply copy these GPS coordinates: N32 20.89, W112 24.46 and paste them in Google Maps: HERE.

Here is one of the roadside shrines we passed later in the day on a deserted road:

Ron and I both were rather dazed not only by the enormous number of these shrines but also where they were located... in the middle of rural nowhere.  My understanding is that the shrines are a mix of cultural and religious beliefs held by Native Americans and Catholics in that the location of a deceased person is where their spirit remains and is considered sacred, this the erection of wayside memorials.  I have no idea what happens if someone should have a heart attack and die in the produce aisle or their favorite recliner chair.  My understanding as to who the people are who are dying is this: The nearby Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation, which equals that in size to the state of Connecticut, does not allow alcohol on the reservation.  So, tribal members often times leave the reservation to consume alcohol and drive back drunk.  I'd imagine a sociologist would have a field day down here.

While in Ajo we stopped at the local gas station.  The outside looked like a regular Chevron station, but the inside felt like I had already crossed the border into Mexico.  The food, the decoration, even the beverages:

Just past the station in Ajo was the Visitor Center for the Cabeza Preita National Wildlife Refuge (NWR)... and my first stamp of the day!

I got my Blue Goose stamp and Ron and I watched a film about the NWR, as well as learned rather interesting facts about the area from a NWR Ranger: Cabeza Prieta is the third largest NWR in the lower 48 states (covers an area the size of the state of Rhode Island), shares a 56 mile stretch along the border with Sonora, Mexico (possibly the loneliest international boundary on the continent), and on average the area experiences 90-100 days straight of triple digit temperatures (yeah, you think you're hot, huh?!), and water is very scarce.  Wow, sounds like a definition of hell if you ask me! Cabeza Prieta is home to desert Big Horn Sheep as well as 21 rare Sonoran antelope, and a total of more than 300 kinds of wildlife as well as 391 plant species.  What I found most interesting is not only are 75% of the animals that occupy the NWR considered "burrowers" but also that it's only 2 degrees cooler 18 inches below the surface.

Ron with a Desert Big Horn Sheep:

Here's a photo of sign at the NWR denoting my least favorite creatures who happen to be "a few days away from waking up from their winter nap" according to a NWR biologist.  Oh, great...searing heat and snakes:

It seemed with each passing mile during the 40 mile trek from Ajo to the US/Mexico border there was a presence I can only describe as "intense."  At one point as I was riding in the high noon sun, a shadow all of a sudden appeared directly above and covered the bike and most of the road.  Since I was wearing earplugs I did not hear the helicopter approaching from directly behind me.  It was flying in the direction of the road and was so close I bet the pilot could have read the level of my fuel gauge.  Ok, maybe not that close but, dang, talk about feeling like you're in a war zone with jets flying above and Border Patrol (BP) running everywhere in cars/vans, ATV's (anything with wheels), helicopters, etc.  There are no official BP checkpoints on this road.  You're just riding along and perhaps come over a hill only to find orange cones and a digital sign saying "Prepare To STOP...US Agents ahead" such as this (sans the sign since I couldn't pull over...you see there is no shoulder on this road ):

And here is another checkpoint:

At most interstate checkpoints around AZ the BP Agents simply wave me through (can't exactly smuggle someone in my sidecase or Givi topcase can I?) but closer to the border and particularly on minor roads BP agents ask for ID, or like today say: "Good afternoon, Ma'am. Are you a US Citizen?" which was followed by his "Have a good day" and my "Thank you for your service, Sir."  I do have to say that BP agents seem much nicer than Customs Agents even though their job seems tougher to me.  (If you are a Customs Agent please don't send me hate mail...you do get to work in a little booth ya know).  As I waited in line to proceed to the BP Agent I was thinking it must take a special kind of person to want to do this job... you work in hellacious temperatures, rugged terrain, scenery sucks, and you are basically chasing after people who are either trying to stay alive or trying to cash in on transporting drugs; in both cases, you're the biggest obstacle (aside from the heat)!  Kinda puts into perspective the "hell" some people describe about their temperature controlled office cubicle, huh?

A few miles from the border is the entrance to the Visitor's Center (VC) at Organ Pipe Cactus National Memorial and the location of my next stamp!

The VC is named after Kris Eggle, a Park Ranger who was slain while on duty in 2002 by members of a Mexican drug cartel.  We parked beside a memorial at the VC in Kris's honor that explains accomplishments the 28 year old (ran track for Univ of Michigan, high school and Federal Law Enforcement Academy Valedictorian) as well as his passion for the outdoors and nature.  My feeling of being in a war zone was valid. Kris' family has a website in his honor with photos of the Border that better represent the state of affairs: HERE

Most every road leading off MC-85 is gravel/dirt, which would be more suited for my Suzuki V-Strom rather than the FJR.  I'd like to do this 21 mile loop within the Park:

Instead of riding, we walked around the VC and took a few photos:

In over 165 National Parks, National Monuments, National Historic Sites, etc that I have visited , not until today have I ever seen a warning about my personal safety other than an animal (bears, rattlesnakes, etc).  The violence along the border has closed most access roads and limited visitor use.  Proof is: HERE

Ron and I left the VC and rode a few miles to the International Border where I took a few photos:

Since I had a cargo trailer stolen in the Phoenix area I was glad to see this sign:

Neither one of us had any interest in crossing the border to go eat lunch in Mexico though we both have friends who regularly ride to eat fish tacos there.  After refueling in Why at the market called "Why Not" (no joke) we started our trek back to Phoenix.  Instead of backtracking I thought we'd ride some of the lesser known roads to the east that went through the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation.  And instead of taking a county road (86) I opted for Indian Road 7, officially named "BIA-7" (Bureau of Indian Affairs).  I stopped to take this photo and joked with Ron that if something happened to us they'd have proof where we turned:

As you can see from the photo the area is completely desolate.  No services, no cell phone reception, no traffic, no nothing but wide open spaces...and WILD HORSES!  After taking the above photo we took off, and less than a mile later I saw steer eating brush on the side of the road.  Because Ron's bike is so loud it could wake the dead, Mr Steer walked away from the road and stood chewing the cud and maybe thinking the same thing we were thinking: what the hell is this?!  I wanted to get a photo, of course, but I wasn't sure if perhaps charging was something this steer was known to do.  So, I left the bike running and dismounted while thinking that if it did charge, I'd have my bike as well as Ron and his bike between me and the steer so I felt like I actually had the best spot of all.  As I was taking the cap off my camera, Ron noticed more activity in the brush that seemed to be moving faster.  A few seconds later, look what walks out where we had just come from:

I use to ride Arabian horses in the BLM lands in Nevada and frequently saw wild horses there, but I've never seen them in Arizona!

Ron and I continued wandering through the reservation on BIA-7, 34, 15 then 42, a total of approximately 100 miles of rugged country, deplete of human existence.  In fact, we guessed we saw 15 times more roadside shrines/memorials than we passed actual people (we passed 3 cars total).  Here's an example of the area:

Once again, we met Trigger in the road, though this time at least there was a sign marking some type of animal crossing:

The very last part of BIA-43 goes over I-8 before turning into another county road.  As we rode the overpass and left the reservation it felt like we had re-entered the world in which we are accustom to seeing... cars with snarling drivers during their evening commute, neon lights, convenience stores, etc.  The Our ride today was 350 miles, included 2 stamps, and many eye-opening sights.  Thanks, Ron, for a fantastic day!

AGirl