Saturday, 22nd August, Seligman: sand, wind, rain and shine
As we leave the reservation (with some speed – desperately hoping no one would demand our camera), we see a wall of sand on the horizon. Will a resigned despair, we realise that it is making its way towards us, fast. It is, in fact, a sandstorm. We brace ourselves as we near it, finally hitting a wall of wind and sand hard as visibility plunges to about 10m.
The going is slow back to Tuba City, 45 miles away. The topspeed of the bike, face on into the wind, is about 40mph. When we finally make it back, we take refuge in Subway, and suddenly the rain begins. It’s horizontal and violent. Fat, aggressive drops which permeate every part of the bike. Our plan to make it to Vegas by the evening trickles away, and the two of us become ncreasingly fractious.
Storms rage inside and out of the restaurant, as Mike and I launch into the most aggressive of our own fights so far. He is nervous about riding a long distance in these conditions so disappears into his own thoughts, leaving me confused, sodden and livid. As we put on our raingear, we’re not speaking. We set off into the driving rain like a cork being thrown into the wind, rain everywhere, barely able to see for the thick drops on our visors.
Miraculously the storm clears after a miserable half hour. Prompting our own storm to clear. As the sun tentatively peels the clouds apart, we head to the spectacular Grand Canyon for some top of the line tourist activity. And what a place it is. Totally and utterly breath-taking.
Still intent on making it to Vegas (it’s 6pm at this point, and Vegas remains 350 miles away), we head on out. Friends again, thankfully. But only make it another 120 miles or so to Seligman on Route 66 and bunk down for the night with pizza and beer.
