CYCLING ACROSS THE SOUTHERN USA

LOS ANGELES to KEY WEST via SAN DIEGO and MIAMI

3,618 Miles (5,790 km) in 66 Days

Here is an edited version of the diary we kept when we cycled across the Southern States of the USA, from Los Angeles to Key West via San Diego and Miami, in the spring of 2001. This was the final leg of a round-the-world journey which totalled 12,000 miles (19,200 km) and included Singapore, Australia coast to coast, New Zealand and Fiji.

In general, we followed the route recommended by Bike Centennial (now known as Adventure Cycling Association. This route followed back roads and the old US highway system. The latter gave us a broad shoulder and quiet riding, since most traffic now follows the newer network of interstate freeways (from which cycles are generally banned). The old US highway system also gave us affordable accommodation and meals in motels and diners which had all seen better days. Only rarely, in the mountains of the Western States, did we find ourselves literally short of a bed for the night.

Where a motel price is given, it is for a double room usually including either complimentary coffee (in the lobby) or a coffee-maker (in the room) and sometimes a light breakfast. Look out for booklets of motel vouchers or coupons which are widely distributed in fast food joints and visitor centres.

The 'bike map' referred to throughout this travel log, is the set of (very) detailed cyclists' maps prepared by the Adventure Cycling Association and on sale through their website and from the CTC shop. The maps need to be constantly checked against a smaller-scale map (maps of each State are often free); as you will see, we often took short cuts.

A table of distances and times for the ride across the USA and for the complete round-the-world bicycle ride is given at the end of this diary.

For a summary of the whole ride, click: Round the World by Bicycle.

After a leisurely breakfast at the Raffles Gateway Hotel (opposite Fiji's Nadi Airport), we packed for Air New Zealand/Air Pacific flight FJ810 to Los Angeles, departing 11 pm. We had just spent 6 days cycling round Fiji's main island (388 km/240 miles), a stop-over on our way from Auckland to California. Barry had to dismantle the wheels to fit our bikes into the boxes, which the Hotel had kindly stored for us after spending our first night in Fiji there. M walked across the road to the airport to buy rolls of sticky tape for the boxes, and post cards to send.

Chicken curry for lunch at the Hotel, a final swim in the splendid pool, reading, crosswords, a pot of tea – time passed slowly! The porter drove our bags and bike-boxes over to the airport at 8 pm, seeming happy with a tip of B&H cigarettes and our Lonely Planet guide to Fiji!

Check-in went smoothly, as the usual evening shower set in. We'd heard a hurricane was approaching, expected tomorrow or the day after. Once on board, the pilot delayed take-off for an hour, waiting for the increasing wind and rain to abate. It didn't. We were the last flight, in or out. Suddenly he roared down the dark runway without warning and we rose through bumpy turbulence. The crew did eventually apologise for subjecting us all to an extra 20 minutes of seat-belted anxiety, explaining we had turned left to avoid the crosswinds and get airborne.

The huge but elderly 747 (200 series) rode out the storm and we gradually relaxed over a meal of spicy lamb balls and Fijian fruits (pineapple, watermelon and pawpaw), well after midnight! The flight lasted about 10 hours, watching a pair of dire 'B'-movie films from our seats in the tail. We managed to sleep a little and then had a good breakfast before landing at LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) at 1.30 pm local time – still on 27 February, as we'd crossed the International Date Line as well as the Equator and arrived before we set off and into a different season! It was still raining and we were still on the edge of the Pacific, looking at palm trees, after all those hours crossing the Ocean. Apparently, it's been raining hard for several days and the news featured mud slides and snow in the Californian mountains. Temperature in LA was 60 deg F.

LAX is a huge airport, circled by non-stop traffic, buses, taxis and courtesy cars. The Ford E350 truck (on which our own motorhome is built) was particularly popular (delivery vans, ambulances, fire engines and mini-buses). From a range of free phones, we rang the Super 8 Motel on Airport Boulevard and we and our bikes (still in their tattered boxes) were soon collected in a Ford E350 minibus and whisked through the rain to a very comfortable room. It had plush fittings, a huge TV at the end of the enormous bed and a luxurious bathroom (but no cooking facilities, unlike most rooms in Australia and NZ). Coffee and tea were freely available at any time from Reception, as were ice cubes (for the American cocktail habit!) The price of $70 included collection from the airport.

The friendly men running the hotel were all from the Fijian capital of Suva and we gave them our 'Fiji Times' newspaper, as well as the black flight bag that we didn't want to carry across the States. They enrolled us in the 'Super 8 VIP Club' (cost $4), qualifying for a 10% discount at all Super 8 Motels and a complimentary 10-minute phone card. Every little helps!

While Barry reassembled the bikes (no apparent damage except to his front mudguard) and disposed of the battered boxes, M fetched a snack from the nearby Supersub Sandwich Bar. And then we slept – it had been a very long day (or two).

A long sleep and a Supersub Sandwich breakfast, before setting off at 10.30 am to cross the USA! The cycling began easily enough, with a light wind and rain showers. The wide roads usually had a good margin or a separate cycle path; the traffic was calm and orderly.

From the Super 8 Motel (at the corner of Airport Boulevard and Arbor Vitae St), we had a 4-mile ride along the surprisingly quiet Westchester Parkway, skirting the northern edge of the 8 terminals of LAX airport. Then Sandpiper Street climbed over a bank of sand hills and we were, once again, by the Pacific Ocean. The Vista del Mar road runs south, paralleled by a cycle and pedestrian path right next to the ocean. We rode this, past empty beaches and shuttered holiday homes, while a few hardy surfers rode the waves.

The area names – El Segundo, Hermosa, Redonda – were redolent of the history of southern California, which was Spanish in the 18th and 19th centuries. Pause for coffee and cookies at Hermosa Beach. The cycle path, signed as a 'Bike Lane' with reminders to 'Yield to Peds' (pedestrians), even ran through an indoor car park!

At the Palos Verdes peninsula we followed Palos Verdes Drive North, taking us inland through very rich suburbs: solid villas with landscaped gardens and 3 or 4 cars each. There were riding stables and beauty salons but no shops or cafes. It was easier to find a manicure than a loaf of bread! On through the aptly named Rolling Hills Estates, we finally came to a 'Jack in a Box' (fast food outlet) and enjoyed a 'Spicy Chicken Combo'.

Continuing through Wilmington, a busier more industrial area, we passed a refinery and docks, to rejoin the Pacific Highway at Long Beach. Crossing bays on bridges, we came to Seal Beach, where we found a shopping centre with groceries but no gas cylinders for our camping stove. (We'd bought a Coleman stove in Australia, made in USA, but had more problems finding gas here than in Oz or NZ!)

Finally to Sunset Beach: time to find a room before dusk fell at 6 pm. The Beach Motel was humbler than the Super 8, costing only $40. We made sandwiches in the room, then (lacking the gas to make a drink) went out for coffee and donuts. It was a fine evening, the forecast thunderstorm having passed us by. The TV news was of an earthquake in Seattle (6.8 on the Richter scale, with one dead) and a train crash in England.

Continued south along the Pacific Ocean, starting on a cycle/footpath to Huntingdon Beach, where we paused for McDonalds coffee. A man inside told us that Sting visits regularly – these are the Southern California Surfing Beaches!

At Newport Beach we somehow left SH1 (the Pacific Coast Highway) and rode along a peninsula, returning to the main highway via a short crossing on a passenger ferry to Baboa Island (yacht marinas and a funfair), and then on a bridge. At last we crossed a few miles of open green space, through a State Park, with a picnic lunch by the ocean, where there were toilets, taps and tables near a car park. There was also plenty of cheap or free parking for motorhomes (RV's) along this coast.

On through Laguna Beach, with plenty of costly residences and poodle parlours, but again no food stores. At the next settlement, Dana Point, we at last found a supermarket (Albertsons), shopped and had tea and donuts. After riding along Doheny State Beach, the route became more complicated, as the Pacific coast Highway became Interstate 5 (No Bikes). Luckily, the bike route was well signposted through the suburban estates of Capistrano Beach, to emerge into San Clemente, with a couple of motels and a fast foodery.

We chose the more modest hotel, at $54, run by an Indian family from Gujerat (the first of many such!) It had been a splendid day, sunny and fresh with a light back wind – we could have gone further but knew of no accommodation for a long stretch ahead. Fish & chips, coffee and carrot cake to finish.

A cooler cloudy day. Keeping off Interstate 5, we followed a coastal bike path/old road, over the border from Orange County to San Diego County, through the San Clemente State Beach Park (with toilets, picnic tables and RV parking), past the ominous San Ofore Nuclear Power Plant, under the Interstate on a muddy path and on to the entrance to the huge Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base (slogan "No Beach Beyond Our Reach"). The guard checked that we had helmets and bright 'road vests' and allowed us to ride through in single file. 27km/17 miles further, before exiting the main gate, was the Base's housing estate, school and shopping centre, where we had coffee and apple pie in McDonalds.

Then along the continuous shoreline development of holiday homes and timeshares, through Oceanside and Carlsbad (with mock-German-Romantic buildings). A picnic lunch on South Carlsbad State Beach, atop the low sandy cliffs, watched by a little furry squirrel critter. More oceanside settlements and surf shops – Leucadia, Encinitas, Cardiff-by-the-Sea, Solana Beach – each with a population of several thousand and a State Beach.

At Del Mar we paused for a drink before a 3-km climb up through Torrey Pines, then dropped down into La Jolla (= The Jewel), the last town before San Diego, into which it has merged. Approaching tea-time, the traffic was busier, with no separate bike lane. We passed the Scripps Institute of Oceanography, through rich suburbs with hotels of the Holiday Inn and Hilton groups. Further along La Jolla Boulevard, the Shores Inn was more affordable ($64 inc breakfast).

We ate at a nearby Mexican restaurant – not our favourite food, but the chicken enchiladas and burrito chicken supreme were tasty, very filling and not too spicy, for $10 all-in.

After a hotel (light?) breakfast of coffee, buns and Danish pastries, we shopped in La Jolla. We bought food at Ralph's and got their discount card (as in most US supermarkets – membership free, just a form to fill in at the Enquiry desk). A good cycle shop sold us a tyre (Conti Top Touring, the best they had in our size), 4 fresh water bottles and a yellow t-shirt for Barry. We had coffee in Wendy's (yet another fast food chain), then – at last – found gas for our stove at a 'Big 5 Sports' store. Inside we met a strange guy cycling from Oregon down to South America, who claimed he'd just had all the panniers stolen off his bike. He was buying a new sleeping bag and was just short of the cost, so we gave him the necessary $2. (If it was a scam, it wasn't a very big one!)

Now able to brew up, we enjoyed a picnic lunch at Spanish Landing Park by the San Diego Bay, between the airport and the naval base on Coronado Island. Many San Diegans were out enjoying the Saturday sunshine, on skateboards, roller blades, scooters or (many) bikes. It's a lively city with plenty of bike lanes. Continuing round Harbour Drive, the waterfront, we passed historic ships like the 'Star of India', the oldest iron-clad ship still afloat. It was built in the Isle of Man in the 1850's and had sailed round the world 21 times before the Americans acquired it in the 1880's, to use up and down the Pacific Coast, in the lumber trade and salmon-canning in Alaska.

Confused by the city's grid system and unaware of the distinction between 8th Avenue and 8th Street, we failed to exit San Diego by mid-afternoon! Knowing it was then too far to the next settlement, we eventually took refuge in a Super 8 motel on the edge of the 'Little Italy' area of the city. Barry fitted the new tyre to his rear wheel, and fixed problems of a jumping chain and clicking pedals on M's bike. M did the laundry and wrote up the log.

Later we walked to the recommended pizzeria/shop, Filippi's. The queue for take-aways was slightly shorter than the one for tables, so we got a huge 'pizza-to-go' (we thought it was huge: it was the smallest size available!)

Super 8 breakfast of coffee, orange juice and buns. Then, still disoriented by the scale of our San Diego map, we rode up and down Harbour Drive again, onto 8th Street and at last out along Paradise Valley Road, much further from the city centre than we'd imagined. It was a fine cloudy Sunday morning with quiet roads. Going through a poor Chinese district, we stopped to make coffee in the park and watched an old man picking empty bottles out of rubbish bins – in California?

We climbed gently over the Sweetwater River and through Sweetwater, ignoring the 'Closed Road' sign and pushing our cycles over the road works. Then up Jamacha Boulevard, to turn right at the junction with Route 94, climbing up Steele Canyon to Jamul, 1,000 ft above the sea. We bypassed the town, our road descending and climbing again through an Indian Reserve, with rocky slopes and trees – ideal for an ambush.

We reached the next village, Dulzura (pop 700, altitude 1,300 ft), at 2 pm. It had a post office (closed) and one café (open for lunch). A 45-minute break, over a pot of tea, enchiladas (M) and burger & fries (B), provided fuel for the climb to 1,600 ft before dropping sharply to Cottonwood Creek, just below 1,000 ft. Finally, a long ascent, past the turn for Tecate (over the border in Mexico), to Potrero up at 2,600 ft. We saw many Border Patrol vehicles and one road check-point.

Potrero has a shop and café, both closed when we arrived after 5 pm. The Twin Lakes Resort (which we'd telephoned), 3 km/2 miles off the main road, has just 3 simple log cabins to rent. Ours had a bathroom, a fridge, a bed and a small heater (but no bedding, pillows, linen, mirror, table …) It had been a long slow day, though the climbing (a total of 4,000 ft) was well graded. We felt as if we'd finally left the Pacific Ocean to head east for the distant Atlantic.

An early start, after a chilly night in the cabin. Our busy host had bacon, eggs, toast and coffee ready at 8 am as promised, for no extra charge. Well fed, we left at 8.20 am, 2 miles back to the main road, a short uphill, then down 1,000 ft before another climb to 4,000 ft.

We passed the Mt Empire RV Park, then through the village of Campo and on to Cameron Corners Crossroads, where we bought bread and cups of coffee at the small general store. Gradual climbing through Indian Reservations (Camp and La Posta) to the summit, passing Outdoor World Camping, with more trailers and RV's (not suited to tents). Over the top and a couple of miles down, we came to Boulevard (pop 415), for a good lunch of club sandwiches and home-fried potatoes in a Mexican café. There was another climb after Jacumba, on the old highway 80, with lots of road works, but again the gradient was easy and the traffic kind to us.

At In-ko-pah Park we joined the Interstate 8 freeway, where bikes were allowed on a stretch with no alternative. With 2 lanes each way, it also had very wide shoulders, separated from the traffic by rumble-strips. It was an 11-mile downhill freewheel, gradient 6%, dropping from over 3,000 ft to under 1,000 ft. Passing through Devil's Canyon, we crossed from San Diego Co into Imperial County. The second exit deposited us close to Ocotillo (named after a desert shrub): 'Welcome to the Yuha Desert'.

The only motel was very homely, with a genial host. Our room had a coffee-maker, microwave and fridge. In the last 2 days we'd ridden over 160 km/100 miles and climbed over 6,000 ft – we slept well!

Rain in the desert! We followed the Evan Ewes Highway, a rough old road of cracked concrete, downhill alongside the railroad through 32 km/20 miles of sagebrush desert, to the small town of Seeley. Half way along, 'Plaster City' was a huge plaster and cement factory in the absolute middle of nowhere. Then from Canal Crossing onwards, we were actually below sea level – worrying! In Seeley we sheltered from the rain over coffee in a Mexican café.

Another 11 km/7 muddy miles to El Centro, a larger town with plenty of food and motels, where we dined at Carls Jr (yet another fast food chain). The next 23 km/14 miles were along the Imperial Valley, past Imperial (the county town, merged with El Centro). This low agricultural country is flat and sandy, well watered by dykes and canals (and rain today). The town had a sugar mill, an airport and our first Wal-Mart store, complete with RV's edging the parking lot.

It wasn't cold or windy but we were very wet and mud-splashed when we reached Brawley in the early afternoon. The Travel Inn claimed to be full on seeing us (?), so we stayed at the seedier establishment next door. The Southwest Supermercado over the road was interesting – very Mexican, Spanish spoken, with strange vegetables and prickly cactus leaves on sale.

It was still raining into the night.

It was raining lightly as we breakfasted on bread & jam, bananas and yogurt. We left before 8 am for the long ride to Palo Verde (112 km/70 miles away, with no services en route). After 14 km, where our Route 78 turned off the main road (which goes to Mexico), we were halted by an illuminated sign 'Route 78 Closed'. A couple of drivers coming the other way told us it was blocked by flooding and we would definitely not get through!

Soon after 9 am, we were back in Brawley enjoying a second breakfast in Carls Jr. An interesting fellow-diner talked of his work as a crop-spraying pilot, having learnt to fly on a US Base in East Anglia in the 1960's. We learnt that this vast agricultural area – over half a million acres below sea level in the Imperial Valley, growing lettuce, vegetables, asparagus, sugar beet, cotton, alfalfa for cattle feed, etc – was once desert, now irrigated by canals from the Colorado River.

We checked the road situation at Police HQ, visited the post office and bank, then got a room at the Travel Inn. This cost just $3 more than last night's room but has a fridge, a coffee maker … and windows that will open! Barry cleaned the muddy bikes and greased their chains, while M used the nearby coin-op laundry and practised her Spanish. We also wrote letters and (with growing confidence) phoned to arrange a mail-drop in El Paso, Texas.

Evening TV showed the film 'Carousel', an old favourite. And it stopped raining!

A fine dry day, with Route 78 open again for a super day's ride. We had a strong SE side wind, turning to a better back wind in the afternoon. It was warm enough to wear shorts (for the first time since arriving in the USA) and we caught the sun.

We climbed gently out of the Imperial Valley, across the East Highline Canal and back into desert. Notices warned of US Naval Bombing ranges – and later of tortoise reserves! Another sign read 'Speed Limits enforced by Aircraft'.

Through another area of sand dunes, the North Algodones Dunes Wilderness Area, we saw a few RV camps of 'Snowbirds' (some official, with a ranger, phone and water; others 'boon-docking' or free-camping). After 48 km/30 miles we reached Glamis, the 'Sand Toy Capitol of the World'. The only restaurant was closed on week-days, though the store was open (Oct-May). It was a strange place, with dune-buggies, quad bikes and trial bikes parked outside. We bought coffee and orange juice and talked to a genuine 'Snowbird' from South Dakota, who comes for a few months every winter to free-camp in a huge RV, with car in tow. He fetches his water every week from Brawley (where we'd noticed a mineral water dispenser, at 5 gallons for $1). Many of the RV's towed a box trailer, carrying a dune-rider inside.

After Glamis we crossed a railroad and climbed past the US Naval Reservation Aerial Gunnery Range. The Chocolate Mountains rose bare and brown to our north and we passed a small working gold mine. There was an interesting variety of cactus plants and a few desert flowers had bloomed after the rain. We reached a height of 1,200 ft (starting from below sea level), then after about 70 km/44 miles the road dropped gradually to Palo Verde (at 245 ft), over a series of dips and rises. Barry's new rear tyre got a puncture, mended by the roadside, but even with this delay we reached Palo Verde by 4 pm. We had entered another agricultural zone, again watered by irrigation canals.

The town had an RV Park (full), post office (closed), a fishing tackle shop (closed, with a notice 'Gone Fishin') and a rock shop (selling lumps of rock!). The only accommodation was at the Lagoon Saloon: a room and kitchen, with a huge fridge/freezer and gas oven, though there was no shop to buy anything to cook! Luckily, the only restaurant – McDoyle's P V Inn on Ben Hulse Highway – was open: 'Home of the Big Jack' (burger). Jack and Sheila fed us an excellent meal (Today's Special) of chicken fettucine, garlic bread, salad and crackers. We were ready for it!

The straight level roads ran through cotton fields and vast expanses of onions, broccoli and other veg, all irrigated by a system of dykes from the Colorado. We rode through Ripley (one small store), then Blythe, a large town, after 32 km/20 miles. Here we had a Carls Jr breakfast, bought camera film at Albertson's, and found Fred's Cycles (closed) on Main Street.

A few miles further on, we came to the Colorado River itself – the border from California into Arizona, where we put our watches forward one hour onto 'Mountain Standard Time'. A footbridge alongside Interstate 10 took us safely over to Ehrenberg, a town of RV Camps near the Colorado River Indian Reservation.

We had to join the I-10 freeway for the next 20 km/12 miles, with cyclists allowed on the shoulder as there was no alternative. It climbed gradually from 250 ft to 1,300 ft and we were grateful for the chance to pause at a Rest Area for orange juice and biscuits. There were toilets, water, picnic tables and a warning about snakes and scorpions – No Camping!

Through the Dome Rock Mountains, we exited the freeway at Dome Rock Road. This was a 'primitive' road, with a sign warning that it was not regularly maintained. We passed enormous 2-armed cacti (as in all the best cowboy films), some with more branches, and even one labelled as a Giant 48-armed Cactus!

There were many more RV's and fifth-wheelers scattered across the landscape, as well as a couple of formal campgrounds, RV Winter Storage places and one RV dealer's as we entered the remarkable town of Quartzsite. This strange place is like a shanty-town version of a motorhome show gone wild, with a theme of 'rock-hounding' (collecting, selling and swapping of rocks). The Yacht Club had no yachts (and no marina) and its 'motel' was just a collection of cabins, but it provided our cheapest night so far - $30 for a room with a good big bathroom.

We shopped at the huge discount grocery store and ate at the crowded Burger King. The weather had been warm and dry again, with a side/back wind. Quartzsite was great!

A cold wind from behind helped us to climb for 16 km/10 miles, along the broad shoulder of Interstate 10, up to 1,750 ft. We turned off onto Route 60 just before Brenda, a small town surrounded by RV Parks. These are the desert ranges (annual rainfall below 10 inches). There were all kinds of cactus, eagles soaring above, and a fringe of wild flowers along the verges, brought up by the recent (and most unusual) downpour.

We drank coffee at Brenda's store (a great American habit) and talked to a couple of Snowbirds: Hank (a retired house-painter from Washington State's sagebrush desert) and Ken (a professional photographer from British Columbia in Canada, who makes and sells postcards and greetings cards). The conversation ended when they rushed off to a darts match! These folk all come regularly for the warm dry winter months and they complained about this year's rain!

We rode the next 24 km/15 miles across the basin of the Ranegras Plain to Hope, where we used the picnic table outside a 'Good Sam' RV Park for lunch. Then we had to climb to Harcuver (2,000 ft) before a few miles of slight descent to Salome. This is in the McMullen Valley in La Paz County, which 'Welcomes Winter Visitors'.

There were 2 good motels, both at $30, our best deal yet. We settled into our room (with a fridge, microwave and coffee-maker) but had trouble with the bathroom (cold water and a blocked toilet). The apologetic woman said her husband would be round to fix it as soon as he got back from work, forgetting to mention that he was the local Sheriff. We got a shock on opening our door to a man in full uniform, complete with star-badge and gun! The bathroom soon gave in.

The neighbours, Barb and Bob, were keen to talk and showed us photos of their friends who had cycled east-west across the northern states, as well as down the Californian coast, along with their dog in a bike-trailer! We bought microwaveable dinners at the nearby store/Laundromat.

We collected RV Park names today: Desert Gold RV (at Brenda), Desert Gem (at Harcuver), Ramblin Roads (at Hope), Voyager Haven (at Salome) and Lone Palm. Our favourite to date was 'Howe's Life' (run by the Howe family).

The coldest day so far, with a side wind and a hint of rain, had us riding in jackets and trousers. We stopped after 13 km/8 miles at Wenden to buy coffee and get warm. There was a short row of RV Boot Sale tables opposite the café: a pathetic collection of old junk and cheap toys, bought and sold by rather desperate men with whiskers, blue jeans and cowboy hats.

Then the road ran dead straight for 37 km/23 miles, parallel with the railroad, climbing gently to Aguila (pop 600), below Eagle Eye Peak. Bright patches of orange poppies caught our eye. After lunch at the Lazy G Bar and Café (soup, sandwiches, crackers and crisps), Route 60 continued straight, still climbing, the wind getting colder through another 23 miles of empty desert. This was Maricopa County, rising to about 2,800 ft before dropping at last to Wickenburg, the 'Dude Ranch Capital of the World'. Indeed, we passed a couple of large ranches.

A long cold day (5 hours of cycling) ended in a warm motel with a king-size bed (3 pillows wide!) Andrew Lloyd Webber's 50th Birthday Concert was shown on TV and it was good to hear the music again. (The name of the motel – Circle J-R – is a cattle branding sign.)

Today was warmer (over 70 deg F) and easier, as Route 60 ran gradually downhill, straight, all day. We followed the (almost dry) Hassayampa River for 16 km/10 miles to Morristown (nothing but a post office). Here we left the Bicycle Touring Map route and stayed on Route 60, still parallel to the railroad, stopping at Whitmann for coffee at the general store.

After another 10 miles of quiet open country, we came upon the aptly named Surprise City: retirement developments and the first of the dormitory towns for Phoenix. Next was Sun City, where we lunched in McDonalds and shopped in Albertson's. Then the environment became increasingly urbanised, through Peoria and Glendale, merging into Phoenix, a city of 1 million souls, spread across 40 miles!

We finally stopped at a Super 8 motel (always reliable and reasonably priced). Did some research on accommodation for the coming week and booked ahead, using a phone box calling card ($10 for nearly 4 hours of calls).

13 March 2001     Apache Junction Motel,   Apache Junction, Phoenix, Arizona   68 km

Phoenix and its environs proved to be over 40 miles across. Still not quite clear of it at the end of the day, though the Superstition Mountains are becoming clearer on our horizon.

We left late enough to avoid rush hour traffic, as we had to ride 12 km/8 miles along just a part of Indian School Road before turning right to get onto the bike route, passing near the international airport in the heart of the city. Then over the Salt River into Tempe (the university area), mostly on cycle lanes or pavements. At Tempe we completed Section 1 of Adventure Cycling's CA-FL (California to Florida) route.

We continued along Apache Boulevard, parallel with Route 60, the Superstition Freeway. It was warm and sunny once more, with a back wind, light traffic and gradual climbing. We found a cycle shop, for spray grease and an inner tube, but had less luck with 2 banks we tried. Neither of them would exchange foreign currency unless we had an account there – we've been trying to change our surplus New Zealand dollars since we arrived. Lesson learnt: we should have done it at Los Angeles airport. We resigned ourselves to carrying the money across the continent!

There was no shortage of fast food joints and we lunched at a Super Sub. Later, over coffee at a KFC, we talked to Rae and Ken Dringle, a couple from Montana who now live in their RV, making and selling 'Custom Wire Sculptured Jewelry, Rings and Things'. They had also just come from Quartzsite and told us that a staggering 1.5 million people were camped there over the winter. Most leave at the end of February and we'd just seen the tail-enders!

We rode through Mesa to Apache Junction and found a modest motel run by the Patel family from Bombay. For the first time, there was a rule against bicycles inside but they did provide us with an extra-heavy chain and padlock. The room had a microwave oven and Margaret went out in search of some real food to cook for supper, returning with a microwaveable meat pie!

Today's milestones: we passed 1,000 km/625 miles in the USA and over 9,000 miles (14,400 km) since Perth, Australia!

Just out of Apache Junction we rejoined Route 60 and followed it to Globe, climbing at least 3,500 ft on a sunny day (over 70 deg F). The road was surprisingly busy, with trucks and RV's, the shoulder edged by an annoying 'rumble strip'. The wildflowers and poppies along the verges were brilliant.

After 27 km/17 miles we reached Florence Junction and a welcome coffee in the service station. Here we met our first fellow trans-continental cyclist, Dawn Young, riding alone from San Diego to the Florida coast. After teaching English in Taiwan for some 20 years, she had flown back, bought a bike and was cycling across the US to her father's house. She had followed the same route as us, so far, camping or using cheap motels, riding a bike with a shopping basket and carrying an umbrella and a plastic stool!

Continuing, we climbed the well-graded Gonzalez Pass at 2,651 ft, then descended to Superior, through the Tonto Forest (no trees, just tall cacti!) and past the Boyce Thompson Arboretum – all State Park land. As we had a picnic lunch in the park in Superior, Dawn caught up with us and paused to eat her prunes and brownie bar. She urged us to ride ahead at our own pace and soon disappeared from our rear view.

More climbing followed, with a steep ascent to the short Queen Creek Tunnel (well lit but very noisy) and over a higher pass at over 4,600 ft. We dropped down through empty canyons until Miami, a dusty mining town, then a few miles along through Claypool and a final climb up to Globe (pop 6,000, altitude 3,600 ft).

There were several motels – ours is directly on Route 60, next to a Jack-in-a-Box where we had a fish & chips supper (with a Seniors' discount!) The San Carlos Apache Reservation is nearby and 2 squaws were also dining there. It's much cooler tonight up here and the road signs warned 'Watch for Ice, Rocks and Animals'.

Globe was an important copper, silver and gold mining town in the Golden Age (1870-1920) and copper is still worked. The town's modern name is from a large globe-shaped piece of silver once found here. The archaeological park ruins on the southern edge of Globe are the remains of a Salado village, a people living in the area about 1100-1400 AD. The settlement, abandoned when the climate changed and water dried up, was named Besh-Ba-Gowah (= Place of Metal) by the Apache, who came upon it 200 years later.

15 March 2001     Pioneer Motel,   Thatcher, Arizona   120 km

Over breakfast in the Jack-in-a-Box, an 80-year-old told of his life as a carpenter in Globe. His British grandmother had emigrated (alone) to the USA with her 9 children, and as a young man he had earned extra money by driving nervous car-owners to and from Phoenix, on the old road through the canyon! As we talked, Dawn cycled past and we made contact. We're impressed by her stamina, riding slower but longer than we do.

Leaving Globe, we turned off Route 60 onto Route 70 and soon entered the San Carlos Apache Reservation (permits needed to leave the highway). At 'Apache Gold Resort', 12 km/7.5 miles from Globe, we passed huge casinos, a Best Western hotel and an RV Park. After another 29 km/18 miles, at the crossroads at Peridot, we bought coffee and biscuits at the store. The Apache staff and customers were very gentle people, who encouraged us to visit their San Carlos Recreation and Wildlife Office. This had a good display of the animals hunted on the Reserve (with bow & arrow as well as guns): elk, antelope, bighorn sheep, boar, small game, birds and fish. We learnt that 13,000 Apache live on the 1.7 million acres and the Reserve includes San Carlos Lake with the Coolidge Dam at its head. The old road (a Bike Map alternative route) loops south round the lake but we stayed on the shorter Route 70.

The next 56 km/35 miles (and 3 climbs) across the Reservation were empty, just groups of simple houses with no services except a small store at Bylas. A back wind eased us along for most of the day. Leaving the Reservation, we rode through Geronimo (nothing) to Fort Thomas - Mormon territory. Stopping at the roadside mid-afternoon to brew up, Dawn rode past but wouldn't stop (the tortoise and the hare in action)! Another 21 km/13 miles to Pima, where we met Dawn again. We might all have stayed at the single motel, but the shop had closed down, there was no café and it was only 4.30 pm. We rode together for the final 10 km/6 miles, downhill to Thatcher.

The Pioneer Motel is run by another kind of Indian (from Bombay). The wonderful manager took us inside his home, with its Hindu pictures, statues, garlands, candles and family photos. He even showed us the temple-corner in his bedroom, where he prays to Lord Gannesh (the elephant god) for an hour, night and morning, certain that this keeps him healthy.

We joined Dawn at the nearby restaurant for a huge chicken salad, then made coffee at the motel and discussed maps, routes and campgrounds with her. The resident maintenance man gave us 2 big bags of oranges to share – a present from his mother, via the Food Program – saying they had far more than they needed. A land of plenty.

16 March 2001     Ponderosa Campground,   Nr Clifton, Arizona   64 km

5 km/3 miles after Thatcher, we shopped at Safeway in the larger town of Safford. We needed food for the next 2 days, when we knew we'd be camping. Then, fortified by coffee and donuts, we began the climb from below 3,000 ft to over 4,500 ft. It was a desiccated, sparsely populated landscape, though still brightened by swathes of golden orange poppies – the best display in 20 years, everyone said.

With no services for the next 56 km/35 miles, we followed Route 70 along the Gila River (used to irrigate cotton), then turned onto road 191 through the Black Hills. Eating lunch by the roadside at Thumb Butte, we were joined by the indefatigable Dawn, who had set out much earlier!

Making a steep descent of the pass through Tollhouse Canyon, we crossed a long wind-swept bridge over the Gila River, leaving Graham County and entering Greenlee Co. At the crossroads of the 191 and Route 75, we bought coffee at the store and talked to a man with a shaved head and tattoos, who was very helpful (despite appearances). He confirmed that the only accommodation was either the campground (4 km/2.5 miles detour to the right) or an expensive motel in Clifton, 16 km/10 miles or more off our route to the left. We waited here for Dawn, then turned right together.

The simple campground is guarded by a 3-legged dog and its owner, a man who keeps goats on the cliffs behind (for use as pack-animals on his outback hunting trips)! There are just a few trailers, inhabited by the old and dispossessed, but there are hot showers and a laundry (both very welcome) for a total of $5 per person. We put our tent up next to Dawn's and managed to cook and eat corned beef hash before darkness fell. It was a cold starlit night, almost freezing, but we did enjoy our first night's camping in the US.

Returning 4 km/2.5 miles to the crossroads, we had coffee and talked with locals in cowboy hats, then left Dawn behind on the long empty road which climbs up Black Jack Canyon. We paused to eat our lunch before the tough section of zigzags.

By the top of the pass at 6,295 ft, we had covered only 27 km/17 miles. At the summit we talked to Gary, a racing cyclist who had just climbed it for fun. Soon we passed Black Jack Camping, which had no water or facilities except a picnic table in the woods. (Yes, woods – the landscape this side of the pass is very different.) 6 km/4 miles later, in a cold wind, we stopped to don more clothing and brew up at Coal Creek, just before the climb to the Arizona/New Mexico border. Our third State!

We rode on through rolling agricultural country, gradually descending, past Mule Creek (just a ranch and a post office) and through a ford-splash, until Route 78 met the busier 180. Here we turned right for the last 15 km/9 miles to Buckhorn, which has a café (open till 7 pm), a shop and an RV Park. Cold and weary, we put the tent up, found no-one around to pay and went to eat at about 6 pm.

As we enjoyed an excellent dinner in the warm friendly café, Dawn arrived and joined us. Then a lone male cyclist turned up and was made welcome. Ralph, a retired school teacher and football coach, was also following the bike route from San Diego, using the same maps. Today he had ridden from Safford (which had taken us 2 hard days) – no wonder he was dead beat, admitting to walking the worst of the pass.

We helped Dawn and Ralph unpack in the freezing night air, under a wonderful display of stars. Now there are 3 little tents – we're gathering camp followers!

Frost on the grass when we rose, and both our neighbours reported ice inside their tent walls. Dawn and Ralph rode on together while we lingered, talking to an RV-resident who came over. An ex-cop from Texas, he had sailed a lot, been arrested in Cuba and now, considering himself to be a Messianic Jew, hoped to settle in Israel. Quite a character, who kindly made us a coffee. There was still no sign of anyone to pay for the camping.

16 km/10 miles down the road, at Cliff, we stopped at the new Chuck Wagon Restaurant for Sunday Brunch. Service was so slow that we found Dawn and Ralph still there! Our order took 1.5 hours to arrive and the only other customers were 2 old-timers (one with his oxygen bottle on a trolley). By the time we were leaving, the place was becoming packed full of families, dressed in their Country & Western best. We wondered if they'd come from church or were going on to a Line Dance?! The waitresses were looking for emergency exits and the cook contemplated suicide. This new venture was not going well!

It was an easier day's riding, climbing in warm sunshine with a back wind, rising gradually to cross the Continental Divide at over 6,000 ft. Then a slight descent to Silver City (pop 10,000), based on the finding of silver in 1870. It has a historic downtown and several motels. As we considered our options, we heard a loud whistle, heralding the arrival of Ralph and Dawn. Delayed by 2 spokes breaking on Ralph's bike, he had just got them fixed at the 'Twin Sisters Cycling and Fitness Shop'.

After comparing prices, we all repaired to the Super 8, where we had a final evening together over maps and coffee, the motel lobby providing hot drinks and the use of a microwave. Our new friends are riding on tomorrow morning, with differing destinations, while we are taking a rest day here. Dawn gave us her father's phone number, near Cape Canaveral, where the area code is 321 (blast off)!

19 March 2001     Super 8 Motel,   Silver City, New Mexico   10 km

Silver City proved a good place for our first 'day off'. We bought food at Albertson's and found gas for our stove. The 'Twin Sisters Cycling Shop' provided a new fitting for Barry's Cateye bike odometer, which had broken.

A series of floods in the 1890's washed away the town's original Main Street. It is now called Big Ditch, lying 55 ft below street level! Some historic brick buildings survive but the grid-plan is not attractive.

We talked with another motel guest who is about to go on a camping-fasting retreat, 6 weeks alone in the wilderness beyond the Glifa Cave Dwellings. An 'outfitter' will take and leave him there until it's time to collect him. The cave dwellings comprise about 40 rooms on terraces above the river, dating from around 1200 AD and occupied for a century or so. They form a National Monument about 45 miles north of Silver City. The Adventure Cycling Map gives a 70-mile detour to them, with primitive camping at Gila Hot Springs, but we decided to save them for next time!

Riding for 6.5 hours today, we climbed at least 3,500 ft over the highest point on the CA-FL cycling route: Emory Pass. Conditions were perfect, warm and sunny with a back wind.

At Santa Clara, 7 rolling miles after Silver City, we turned off Route 180 onto the quieter narrower 152, with a good shoulder until the steeper part. Through Hanover (one small store), then past the immense Santa Rita open-pit copper mine, filling the horizon on our right, 20 km/12 miles from Silver City. Copper was first mined here by Bronze Age natives, then by the Spaniards. The open pit (begun in 1910) now measures 1.5 x 1 mile and is 1,800 ft deep, producing 300 million pounds of copper per year for the Chino Mines Company.

We rode past the turn-off to Mimbres, the Gila Wilderness and Hot Springs, then across the Mimbres River, dropping nearly 1,000 ft (from 6,500 ft) to the bridge. After a break to brew up, outside a café that was closed, the real ascent began. It was a well-graded 22 km/14 mile climb, with a lunch break at the first of 3 simple campsites in the woods. At the top of Emory Pass at 8,228 ft we played snowballs in the Gila Forest! The pass (marking the border from Grant County into Sierra Co) was named after Lt WH Emory, who crossed it with the Army of the West in 1846, when it was still part of Mexico.

After 63 km/40 miles of effort from today's start, we enjoyed the 27 km/17 miles downhill to Hillsboro. We didn't touch our pedals for the first 16 km/10 miles, keeping pace with a large Winnebago RV, down and down through forested hairpins. Eventually the road opened out to follow Percha Creek across cattle country, with several cattle grids and free-range beasts.

Hillsboro is a small cowboy town, with one store and café (closed) and the S-Bar-X (it's a cattle brand) Saloon. In the dimly lit bar, we were served with good coffee and the only food available - a cardboard pizza taken from freezer to microwave - but we did appreciate the warm comfortable motel room, where we escaped the noise of the regulars and the juke box. There was no TV (no signal) and we were soon asleep.

On our journey 'from sea to shining sea', we've ridden almost 1,600 km/1,000 miles in less than 3 weeks - from the Pacific Ocean across sand dunes and deserts to the high mountain passes.

Warm and very dry (only 11% humidity), with a strong side wind from the south. During a short climb out of Hillsboro we passed the Pie Cobbler's shop, where pies are baked in a pie shed at the back (sadly, closed). Then it was a gentle downhill all the way to Hatch, which still lies at 4,000 ft.

New Mexico is certainly high, with its lowest point at 2,817 ft (a reservoir on the Texas border). The State motto 'Crescit Eundo' translates as 'It grows and grows'. There is little surface water (only 234 square miles out of 121,598 sq mi), it's the fifth largest State, joined the USA in 1912, capital Santa Fe.

Back to our route: along the Geronimo Trail for 27 km/17 miles to Caballo, where the Rio Grande is dammed into the Caballo Reservoir. Here we turned right from Route 152 onto 187, had coffee at the KOA campground shop, then rode alongside the lake, edged with RV Parks and boat storage lots.

We crossed the wide Rio Grande, pausing for photographs, and continued through scrubby-bush desert, made bright green in the fields irrigated by the river. There were crops of cotton and onions, groves of walnut and pecan trees, and above all the fields of chillies. We rode past lots of farmhouses selling red or green chillies, through small villages, each with a general store and post office – Arrey, Derry, Garfield and Salem – until we came to Hatch (pop 1,136): 'The Chilli Capital of the World'.

The wind was getting stronger and turning against us, so we checked into the only motel, well placed between a 'Dairy Queen' and a laundromat. (We used both.) After we complained about the noisy mob of Mexicans next door to our small bedroom, we were moved into a nice 3-roomed apartment – and all for $40!

An evening TV programme suggested that the Apollo Moon Landings were a hoax, filmed in the Nevada High Desert. An intriguing conspiracy theory, with some plausible evidence about the lighting, shadows and details of the film supposedly taken on the moon.

Today we passed 1,600 km/1,000 miles cycled in the USA – and 15,000 km/9,375 miles since Perth, Australia.

For 40 empty miles we followed the Rio Grande and the railroad across hot dusty farmland, with pecan groves, alfalfa hay and more chillies. We crossed the river again at Radium Springs and stopped further along to brew up on the bank. We did see a couple of delightful roadrunners – New Mexico's state bird.

There were no services until Las Cruces, another formless characterless town, where we crossed the railway and avoided the centre. We left the Bike Map route to El Paso here, taking the more direct 478 along the railroad, parallel with the I-10 freeway. After sandwiches and coffee in a bakery shop as we left Las Cruces, it was 32 km/20 miles, with a good back wind, to Anthony.

We rode through Mesquite, Vado and Berino, which are now just stops on the railroad to load cattle-feed, but this ancient route along the Rio Grande is the 'Camino Real' (Royal Road). Claiming to be the oldest road in the US, it linked Spanish missions, forts and villages, later becoming the territory of Billy the Kid.

In Anthony, just over the New Mexico/Texas border, we slaked our thirst in McDonalds, shopped at Furr's (acquiring our fifth supermarket club card) and stayed at a brand new Super 8, out by the I-10 junction.

After a 'free' motel breakfast of toasted bagels, buns, juice and coffee, we had an easy 16 km/10 miles, riding the service road alongside the I-10 freeway. The excellent Texas Visitor Centre, about a mile along, provided good free maps of the State, El Paso, etc.

At Mesa Street we exited onto Route 20, rejoining the Bike Map route to follow it across rolling country all the way into El Paso. The hills of the Franklin Mountains State Park to our north contained the hot airless traffic fumes. To the south, the Rio Grande marked the border with Mexico and we had a view across to the city of Juarez in Chihuahua.

Taking a coffee break in McDonalds (with Seniors' discount, free refills and a look at the newspapers), we were alarmed to see Margaret Thatcher on the front page of the El Paso Times. She was guest speaker here last night at a fund-raising convention for world peace, staying at Fort Bliss Military Base!!

Route 20 took us into the historic centre of El Paso, the long road changing its name: Mesa Street - Texas Avenue - Alameda Avenue. There were lots of traffic lights and urban scenery but the traffic was light and orderly. At Fox Plaza interchange we turned off Route 20 to ride out towards the airport, in search of the US Mail on Boeing Drive. To our amazement, our post had arrived yesterday and 2 packets were waiting at the General Delivery. (Next time, we'll choose a smaller place to pick up our mail!)

After a well-earned chicken lunch at 'Pop-eye', a Cajun-style fast-food place on the corner of Hawkins Boulevard, we back-tracked along Route 20, after a chance detour round the Union Pacific Railroad yards. Alameda Avenue is 19 km/12 miles long, with 4 lanes of traffic! We found another modest motel run by a gentleman from the Sub-continent and spent a quiet evening opening our mail.

We expected an easy day, with less than 50 miles of level road to Fort Hancock. Instead we rode for 5 hours 20 mins into our toughest head wind so far in the US, blowing from the north-east! We remained high, at 3,500 ft, following Route 20 between the railroad and the Rio Grande/Mexican border.

Leaving El Paso through the poorer Tex-Mex neighbourhoods of Socorro and Clint, we paused to shop and get coffees at Burger King, hearing more Spanish spoken than English. On this Saturday morning, we passed many sad 'yard sales', where the needy tried to sell each other their old clothes, toys and household junk.

The only town en route, Fabens, after nearly 30 hard miles, was in decline, its shops boarded up. We ate at the only place open, a Mexican restaurant offering enchiladas stuffed with rice, potato, meat and red-hot please-bring-some-iced-water chillies. Now we're back on the Bike Map route.

10 km/6 miles further on, past irrigated cotton fields and pecan groves among the open dust land, we came to a Historic Marker at Tornillo. This once booming cotton town attracted Mexican settlers, but it has declined since the Great Depression.

The wind was unrelenting for the final 32 km/20 miles, past a fishing lake where we paused for a drink of Sunny Delight (orange juice in our bottles) and a Kitkat. Staggering on to Fort Hancock, we found the settlement was one mile off our route, north from the I-10 junction. What a relief to find a haven from the head wind, with a shop, restaurant and motel (run by yet another wonderful Gudjerati from Bombay).

Spring has arrived and we are starting to see the odd snake on the road. It was a lovely sunset.

The HBO (Home Box Office) TV channel showed the film 'Wit', with Emma Thompson as an English Literature professor who is dying from ovarian cancer. A gruelling but very moving performance.

The head wind was at least lighter and we rode the hard shoulder or 'frontage road' of the I-10 all day. Sometimes, where the freeway was officially closed for road works, we had it to ourselves!

After the Esperanza turn-off, we had our first coffee break at 'Tiger Travel Plaza & Truckers Village' – a very odd service station and 'home of live white and striped tigers', which we didn't pay to see. Then the long and hazy route climbed gradually from 3,500 to 4,500 ft, with a picnic lunch at the top of the hills.

Then across part of the windy dusty and vast plateau of SW Texas to Sierra Blanca, just off the I-10 - a small place where the shops, café and restaurant were all closed (it's Sunday). We chose the better of the 2 motels, proclaiming itself 'Texas-owned and run', with a very pro-George-Bush proprietor. The best we could get for supper was a microwaved burger at the petrol station.

Sierra Blanca was famous for the joining of the 2 railroads built across the continent: the Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe met here in 1881. There is a railway museum and the long trains still run by (one is hooting as I write!)

The evening TV showed the full Oscar Awards Ceremony in Tinsel Town, with Russell Crowe and Julia Roberts taking the honours. Phoning Mum to thank her for some of the mail collected in El Paso, it turned out to be Mothering Sunday in Britain – a lucky coincidence! (In the US it's some time in May?)

Less than 40 miles again today, due to the continuing and strengthening head wind, which came in gusts of 10-15 mph (faster than we were progressing against it). We're still cycling alongside the I-10 freeway, following the railway. Yuccas are flowering in the desert, with a backdrop of sphinx-like rocks.

Our first break, after 16 km/10 miles, was to mend a puncture in Margaret's back tyre (caused by thorns when we went off-road for a toilet stop!) M made coffee, squatting in a gulley out of the wind, while B replaced the inner tube (preferring to stick patches later, in the shelter of a room).

Through a landscape devoid of any shelter, we climbed to the Hudspeth County-Culberson Co border at 4,700 ft, where we put our watches forward an hour onto Central Time. Another Time Zone crossed, we enjoyed the downhill ride to Van Horn, 700 ft below. We got a late lunch in McDonalds by the bus station, just before the Greyhound bound for Miami arrived and filled the place.

Exploring further, we found that Van Horn, the 'Crossroads of the Texas Mountain Trail', had no less than 13 restaurants, 4 RV Parks and 17 motels, varying from 2 'Best Westerns' down to the economy end. Such competition kept the prices low and we took our least expensive room so far in the US, at $28 including breakfast - and this was by no means the cheapest option. The town is simply a line of motels and diners (and just one supermarket) strung along Broadway, beside the El Paso-Pecos Interstate at the point where it crosses Routes 54 (north to Carlsbad) and 90 (our route, south to Marfa).

Lying in a valley surrounded by mountains, the town was named after Major Van Horn who 'discovered' wells in the area, though they were already well known to travellers on the Old Spanish Trail. America's first trans-continental mail-coach route (San Antonio to San Diego) came this way in the 1850's and 60's, when there was an army garrison here. It was also the site of battles with hostile Apache: the last in 1881 ended the Indian era in Texas. That same year, the Texas and Pacific Railroad came through and the town grew up. It is still known for its good water (piped to Sierra Blanca, which has none) and as the entrance to Big Bend National Park.

This motel is run by a 3-generation family from Gujerat, the grandmother with a waist-length plait of white hair. They offered our best 'free' breakfast so far: cornflakes, sticky buns, orange juice and coffee.

There was still a very strong head wind from the east, so it was an easy decision to take a rest day rather than cycling 75 empty miles into it. We wrote a couple of letters, walked up and down the 2 miles of Broadway to post them and to shop, and phoned ahead to check accommodation on the next stretch.

Supper was fried chicken 'to go' (take-away) from the Mexican-run Gateway Restaurant opposite the motel and we enjoyed it in front of the TV, watching back numbers of 'ER'!

The strong wind had at last turned (WSW), helping us across fairly flat, empty land. A little irrigation around Van Horn Wells sustained pecan groves and a cornfield.

Lobo (24 km/15 miles from Van Horn), however, was a small ghost town, its gas station and houses empty. It did have a new litter bin, announced on a road sign: 'Litter Barrel - One Mile'! There were several picnic sites along Route 90 and we stopped at one to brew up (with difficulty, lacking shelter from the wind).

Continuing through Jeff Davis County to Valentine, the railway line ran to our left with the Davis Mountains beyond. The Rio Grande was well out of sight to the south, where it still forms the Mexican border. We reached Valentine after 64 km/40 miles – about half way to our intended destination of Marfa.

Valentine (pop 200) still has a post office, which is very popular for mailing cards at the beginning of February! Sadly, the only café/store/filling station had closed down. As we looked round for somewhere to picnic, a woman in a car pulled up and offered to show us to the local school, assuring us that they were used to long-distance cyclists there! Intrigued (and keen to get out of the wind), we followed her across the railway track to the district school, teaching all ages from 5 to seniors.

There was a kiosk with vending machines for drinks and snacks and we were immediately greeted by 2 lads on their lunch-break, selling sweets and candy bars for 'school enterprise funds'. Just as we bought 4 chocolate bars, our guide reappeared to say that the school cook had some left-overs for us! We were soon eating nachos (corn chips) with chilli and cheese sauce, washed down with Coke, in the school kitchen. The voluminous cook entertained us (it's her 55th birthday today). A happy and kindly soul, she described living here in the perfect climate, in a comfortable 3-bedroom home which had cost just $500 many years ago. As payment was out of the question, we bought some more candy (no problem there!)

Back on the 'Texas Mountain Trail' (which was actually level), it was another 56 km/35 miles to Marfa, with only one brief stop on the way, as it was too windy to brew up. Marfa, the location for the James Dean/Elizabeth Taylor film 'Giant', is home to the highest golf course in Texas and is also famous for its 'mystery lights'.

We had expected that cycling 120 km/75 miles from Van Horn would be a full day, but we reached Marfa around 4 pm. There were only 2 motels – both expensive at over $50 – and we still had an amazing back wind. After phoning a cheaper motel in Alpine, the next town 42 km/26 miles further, we decided to have coffee in the 'Dairy Queen' and then push on, aiming for our first 100-mile ride in years!

We made it to Alpine by 6.30 pm, riding through more rolling hills and over one low pass, the Paisano, to a very unalpine town up at 4,500 ft. Our motel was again run by a gentleman from India (out of Bangalore, via Bristol, to the US). On the way we saw a lone Pronghorn Antelope near the road, identified from a photo in the Big Bend tourist leaflet. Big Bend National Park, lying to the south, is the most desolate and remote NP in the USA: the area where the Rio Grande bends round the southern tip of the Rocky Mountains. Alpine is the seat of Brewster County (the largest in Texas) and home to the Sue Ross State University. To the north of the town is Fort Davis and the McDonald Observatory on Mt Locke at 6,809 ft. (The Bike Map route from Van Horn to Alpine goes through these mountains, but we didn't take it seriously!)

Our longest day so far - 7.5 hours riding at an average speed of 22 km (nearly 14 mph) – though not the hardest day, by any means.

Breakfast in McDonalds then back on Route 90, still with a fair wind. It was a very gentle climb alongside the railway line, between the glass Mountains and the Del Norte Mountains, before dropping to Marathon (still at 4,000 ft) after 48 km/30 miles. Here we had a coffee break at the bar next to the Gage Hotel – very grand, inside a millionaire rancher's house from the 1930's.

Then there was nothing for the next 88 km/55 miles except cacti, wildflowers, a few cattle and eagles soaring overhead. We rolled through Lemons Gap and across county lines: Brewster to Pecos to Terrell Co. Lunch was taken at a picnic site, over 32 km/20 miles from Marathon.

Continuing with a pleasant warm back wind, we were suddenly flagged down by a pair of Austrians, Christoph Oberhauser and Birgit Lohs, coming in the opposite direction. They told us they were also cycling round the world, in 2 years from July 2000 - not exactly convincing, as Christoph was riding while Birgit followed in a hired van carrying all their gear (and no tent)! To date, he had ridden solo from Austria across Europe, then flown to Boston where his partner had joined him. They'd cycled together down to Florida, made flying visits to the Bahamas and Cuba, then set out riding east-west across the States. They had hired the van 'just for the hilly section'!

We had a long chat, comparing routes and maps, and were more impressed by their computing expertise. Carrying a laptop, they put daily reports in German and English on their website: www.biketheworld.at (?) We later saw an image of ourselves on the internet for the very first time. The wind turned round as we talked, to their relief, so our gradual descent to Sanderson (at just below 3,000 ft) was slower.

We arrived after 6.5 hours riding, at an average speed of 21 km/13 miles per hour. The Big Bend Outback Inn/Bunkhouse is cheap at $27.50, though it's run by an awkward couple and there is no breakfast. We ate at the Country Kitchen at the service station over the road. It's considerably warmer now we've left the mountains.

Sanderson – the 'Cactus Capital of Texas' - is also the county town for Terrell, which has the lowest population density in Texas. We'd passed no dwellings since Marathon (80 km/50 miles back), just an occasional entrance to a distant ranch, with the family names in wrought iron.

It was overcast, with a hint of drizzle and a cold light easterly wind as we left Sanderson. We hunted out a few groceries at the only store and noticed that the motels, cafes and businesses were folding – another settlement in decline. All the small towns along Route 90 since Van Horn seem to be dying, bypassed by the I-10 freeway, and desperately trying to promote the 'Big Bend Outback' to tourists.

After 32 km/20 miles, at Dryden, the picture was worse. The general store and campground had closed down since the publication of our Bike Map, leaving only a dusty petrol station. The grumpy owner had some coffee brewing and we drank it outside, talking to a roaming 'cyclist', who had a bike on the back seat of his ancient Cadillac and a bike trailer in the boot! This friendly character, describing himself as a 'Christian hobo' on his way to the Dakotas, insisted on giving us 6 tins of tuna fish ('plenty more in the boot'), 3 large home-grown tomatoes and a one-pound bag of trail mix (labelled 'Distributed for domestic food assistance programs'). As we left, Margaret discovered a rear puncture (another thorn in the side-wall). This involved more delay and another coffee, along with some trail mix which proved delicious, very sweet

We rode across rolling open country with a wealth of sweet-scented wild flowers - Indian Paintbrush, Blue Bonnet – lovely names. At 16 km/10 miles from Dryden we stopped for lunch at a picnic table, joined by a retired couple from Mississippi. They were driving a small demountable RV (tiny by US stanadards) to a summer in Alaska.

For the final 48 km/30 miles, the wind grew stronger and the hills got steeper. At the last rest area before Langtry, we passed the generous tuna-donor. He was asleep on a bench, his car bonnet raised and fluid on the tarmac beneath! We didn't disturb him, as there was another car parked nearby if he needed help.

At last we reached the Exon Filling Station at the Langtry turnoff, which we had phoned to book a very simple room at the back (the only accommodation in Langtry, price $25). The kind woman was waiting to give us the key, just past her normal closing time of 5.30 pm. She promised breakfast tomorrow. We cooked corned beef stew on our gas stove, read the paper, did the crossword and had an early night. No TV here!

We had breakfast burritos (with bacon) and coffee at the Exon Filling Station, accompanied by tales from the life of a local rancher's wife. Our hostess was just running the place while the owner (a friend) was on vacation. She came from Connecticut and sounded like all the New York cab drivers in films, very different from the Texan drawl.

We made a short detour to the 'Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center' in Langtry, half a mile off highway 90. Roy, the JP here from 1882 to 1904, had a passion for Lilly Langtry. His saloon/billiard room, called the 'Jersey Lilly', doubled as a courthouse and is preserved, along with his sign 'Justice of the Peace – Law West of the Pecos'. The nearby cactus garden and modern visitor centre were somewhat incongruous and had no café, though we picked up a leaflet. Langtry was a railway town (and the Judge never met Lilly, though he wrote to her often).

During the 48 km/30 mile ride to Comstock, we left the Rio Grande to snake its way along the Mexican border to the south. Pausing at a historical marker, we saw the point at Dead Man's Gulch where, in 1883, a silver spike joined the tracks laid from each end of the Southern Pacific Railroad route (New Orleans to San Francisco). We viewed the panorama of canyons and soon made another photo stop, when our road crossed the wide Pecos River on a high bridge (a mile from where it joins the Rio Grande). The Amistad National Recreation Area on the banks of the Pecos hires out rowing boats and we watched a pair pass under the bridge – one a gondola, propelled by a single oar over the stern.

We passed the Seminole Canyon State Historical Park, home of 4,000-year-old rock paintings, and came to Comstock, another town in decline. It had one motel and one excellent café, hidden behind the petrol station, where we got a good lunch with home-baked apple pie.

The wind dropped for the second half of the day and the road rolled gently down from 1,500 ft to 1,000 ft, crossing the huge Amistad Reservoir. We were very warm and thirsty and the picnic/camping areas were all 5 km/3 miles off the road, so we had a coffee break at another Exon Station.

Del Rio (pop 30,000) is our largest town since El Paso, with several motels and one bike shop. After 2 punctures on the recent stretch, we eagerly bought 3 inner tubes! Then we took a room at Motel 6 (a similar chain to Super 8), well placed next to a shopping mall with a Pizza Hut and Burger King opposite.

After 4 very long days riding since Van Horn, with 3 nights in rough and ready rooms, we enjoyed the comforts of a good bed and a laundry, and decided a rest day was deserved.

The clocks went forward one hour last night for 'Daylight Saving', which gives us another hour of useful light in the early evening.

On our day off, M wrote some letters and went shopping in the mall (for new shorts), while B checked and maintained the bikes. We ended with a good take-away roast beef dinner from Luby's.

In town we posted letters and withdrew cash but failed to find gas refills for the Coleman stove. Then it was back on the road, Route 90 again, riding into a light head wind.

Traffic was busy at first, alongside the railway and past Laughlin Air Force Base, after which we began to see more grass, small trees and plenty of wildflowers. We crossed the line from Val Verde County to Kinney Co, passing nothing but an occasional ranch entrance until the small town of Bracketville.

It has a couple of stores and a good café, the 'Burger & Shake', where we got lunch. Also a surprisingly good bike shop, inside a modest shed: 'CT's Bike Parts & Repairs' at 410 East Spring Street, run by CT and his son, open every day 8 am-6pm. What a find! We had a long chat, buying a puncture repair outfit (known here as a 'patch kit') and (on their recommendation) a dog repellent spray. Both worked well, as we saw neither dog nor inner-tube puncture for the rest of the ride!!

Bracketville's only accommodation was 3 km/2 miles away at Fort Clark Springs – a large purpose-built holiday village of second/retirement homes, with a motel inside the 1872 stone barracks, an RV Park, a 'wilderness area' for tents, restaurant, 2 golf courses, etc. The motel was way over-priced, so we pitched our tent in the wilderness for $4. We had a campfire place, cold tap and toilet nearby, along with better ablutions at the RV Park.

Fort Clark was a US Army post from 1852, important for protecting the San Antonio-El Paso road and the frontier settlers from Indians and bandits. It played a part in the Civil War and later General Patton served here. It closed in 1946 and has a nice bronze statue of a cavalry horse.

It was a very warm evening (unlike our previous 2 nights camping, in the mountains of New Mexico) and we lit a fire to boil the billy, saving gas as we're out of refills. We heard wild turkeys gobbling in the night and slept in till 8 am!

Around the RV Park office are feeders for humming bird and we spotted one as we left: a tiny hovering miracle. Later, as we brewed up at the roadside, another landed briefly on Margaret's handlebars! The local hardware stores sell the feeders.

After breakfast back at the 'Burger & Shake', we left Route 90 (followed since Van Horn) to ride north-east on the 334. We still had a light head wind and it was overcast with occasional rain. The countryside was empty, just trees and flowers, apart from large ranch entrances with wrought-iron silhouettes of cowboys, cattle and deer. There was some goat-farming (for mohair) among the rolling hills.

At 48 km/30 miles we turned left onto the busier Route 55, across 'scrub rangeland' following the Nueces River, which we crossed 8 km/5miles before Campwood. The small town has a choice of 2 motels (or one very shabby hotel), plus a couple of restaurants and shops. We had a good (if slow) meal of chicken, baked potatoes, salad and toast at the pizza/grill place. The weather has turned very close and sticky.

It was only about 32 km/20 miles to Leakey, through wooded hills on a narrow winding road in a light drizzle. Weather warm and wet, with mist on the hill tops.

Once arrived, we spent some time on the phone trying to find accommodation in Vanderpool or Medina, the next 2 towns along our route, but there was only a Bed & Breakfast (very expensive) or fully-furnished cabins at $85 upwards. Nor could we get a gas refill, or even a different stove, at the store. Frustrated and damp, we checked into the Welcome Inn (one of only 2 motels, but the more modest Frio Canyon Lodge across the road had no-one home).

Walking round the historic cemetery, we saw the graves of Mr & Mrs Leakey, founders of the town, and some other early settlers who fell victim to Apache raids in 1881. Saddest of all was the very recent grave of a 14-year-old boy, killed whilst cycling home from school by a drunk teenage driver. We talked to a girl visiting his grave: the girlfriend of the victim's older brother.

We ate at the only restaurant, at the Frio Canyon Lodge (now open). The town was suffering from a plague of big black beetles, with a crushed layer on the road. A sombre place, all round!

What a long day – nearly 7 hours riding, with 2 delays caused by Barry's rear tyre. The side wall was split by a stone in the canyon road and, after repair with superglue failed, he replaced it with the light folding tyre carried for such an emergency.

The first 26 km/16 miles were hilly, involving 2 hard climbs across river valleys, in a misty drizzle. This brought us to a welcome break for coffee and buns in Vanderpool, before another 32 km/20 miles over a pass to Medina, the 'Apple Capital of Texas', where we arrived just in time for the Daily Special Lunch at the 'Cider Mill & Country Store'. A real surprise: delicious Mexican-style chicken with crisps, home-made lemonade, apple pie with apple ice cream and coffee.

We bought some fresh crisp apples, resisting the other goodies on sale (but enjoying the free samples). They had a mail-order catalogue of apple products and an Apple Festival at the end of July (an early harvest). Leaving (at 4 pm!), we passed the orchards of dwarf apple trees – a pleasant change from the cattle, sheep and angora goats on the enormous ranches.

It was still 48 km/30 miles to Comfort but the hills got easier and the wind, though stronger, turned from head to side. The country grows more lush each day, with greener grass and more trees. We spotted a deer, several humming birds, and swallows feeding over a creek and nesting under eaves. We rode through Camp Verde (nothing but a cemetery) to Center Point, where we rejoined the Bike Route again, having left it at Vanderpool in favour of a steeper short cut.

The final 16 km/10 miles followed the Guadalupe River to Comfort, a well-named town 'At the crossroads of America's 2 longest roads'. We found a very welcome motel by the I-10 freeway exit, behind a 'Dairy Queen'. Back to 'civilisation'.

This is Texas Hill Country (we had noticed) and the town, first settled in the 1850's by Germans, has a historic business district (historic = 19th century!) It also has the only railway tunnel in the whole of Texas, now disused and home to one million bats.

On through the rolling wooded hills, with strong south-east winds. The long empty quiet by-roads were almost devoid of settlement, just the odd cattle ranch. We paused for coffee after 16 km/10 miles at Sisterdale and made some unsuccessful phone calls from the café, in search of affordable accommodation ahead.

Past the cotton-gin/winery and on to Kendalia, another place with just one general store/café. We bought more coffee, had a snack lunch and made more futile phone calls. Discouraged, we decided against continuing to San Marcos (too far, too windy, nowhere to stay) and turned north to Blanco, with a back wind at last.

Here we found a cosy motel room and microwaved a tin of chicken & dumplings (not very appetising, but there was nowhere to dine out). With our change of direction, we did manage to phone and book motels for the next 2 nights.

As we left town, we bought cakes and cookies from a stall raising funds for Kendalia Library. Then we crossed the wide shallow Blanco River and rode through 38 km/24 miles of hill country, across Blanco County and Hays Co, to Wimberley. This town was busy with its first great market of the year (held on the first Saturday of each month from April to September) – a giant flea market, selling everything imaginable. We lunched at a 'Super Sub' sandwich place, then weaved our way out through the homeward-bound traffic jams.

After another 16 km/10 miles of hills, across the grain of the land, we had coffee at a Diamond Shamrock (chain of filling stations). Then we left the wooded hills and ranches behind, continuing through open farmland growing cotton. At Kyle, 14 km/9 miles on, across the railway and the main highway I-35, we paused again for ices in the 'Dairy Queen', weary of the heat and head wind.

11 km/7 miles later, at Plum Creek, we turned north-east and had a better wind as far as Uhland. Then the final 18 km/11 miles were across flat bare fields, straight into the wind, with our first sight of Texas oil's 'nodding donkeys' and the smell of other people's money. It was very strange to pass the suburban commuter housing estates, serving the conurbations of Austin, San Antonio and San Marcos.

Lockhart is a solid historic town with tree-lined avenues of Victorian homes. It houses the Caldwell County Courthouse (like the one in Blanco but bigger), the County Jail and the oldest library in Texas. It was famous in the wars with the Comanches (Battle of Plum Creek, 1840) and lay on the Texas Independence Trail, fighting the army of Santa Anna. It also claims to be the 'BBQ Capital of Texas', though we ate at McDonalds, across the busy highway from our motel.

The south-east wind is even stronger today and it's very hot, humid and overcast. The weather continues to come from the Gulf of Mexico, with this wind blowing below the prevailing westerly, which still blows 1,000 ft above it (and sometimes apparent in the cloud formations). Today we set off northwards, so had a good wind for the first 24 km/15 miles, to the village of Bateman. There was just a cemetery and 3 petrol stations, but the last one had coffee and cookies.

Then we turned off the Bike Route for a short cut, bypassing Bastrop. We rode via Rosanky (only a cemetery) to Smithville, another historic little town on the Texas Independence Trail, with tree-shaded streets of antique shops and an expensive chic café. Here we met the railroad again (it arrived in the 1890's). We bought 'wrap' sandwiches and donuts at the supermarket (the only shop open) and were given free coffee.

Back into the wind again for the last third of the day's ride, along the shoulder of Route 71, parallel with the railway. We passed a lagoon called Shipps Lake, which was described by Spanish explorers in the 1680's, then climbed a long hill to Texas's 'first roadside park and scenic overlook'. It was now very warm and sunny and we stopped at the picnic site to drink the orange juice in our bottles.

At last we reached La Grange in Fayette County and found the place we'd booked, just before the bridge which crosses the river into the downtown. The splendid motel has a free laundry, copious coffee and a microwave to use. Margaret cycled an extra 6 km to the shops and back, making it 100 km (and bringing a nice tin of stew to heat!) A good day.

The muggy weather continued, with the same strong south-east wind. We rode north-east for most of the day, with a side/back wind, across rolling hills and cattle plains.

We passed through an area settled by German and Czech pioneers: Oldenburg, Warrenton and then Round Top (pop 81) after 26 km/16 miles. Taking coffee at the general store there, we learnt that we'd just missed the Springfest - a weekend fair of music, German food, crafts and antiques. The stalls and vans and RVs were packing up for miles along the road on either side of Round Top (and they do it all again for the autumn Oktoberfest).

It was another 18 km/11 miles (some of it along the busy road 290) to Burton in County Washington, a nice settlement with 19th century German-style wooden houses. Sadly the only café, a listed historical site, was packed out, so we bought hot dogs at the petrol station.

Continuing through Gay Hill, across the railway, we had a break for cold drinks 32 km/20 miles from Burton, at Independence Service Station: it's a very sunny and very thirsty day. There were flags and historical markers here, the site of a settlement founded in 1835 and renamed to celebrate Texan independence the following year.

We passed small farms and the odd oil well, and took a short cut on a farm track from William Penn across to road 105. Then we passed Washington State Historical Park, where in 1836 the Texas Declaration of Independence was signed and the constitution of the new republic was drafted (it lasted 9 years).

Over the wide Brazos River, we entered Brazos County and came to Navasota (pop over 6,000) – a busy town on the railroad, with a historic Victorian district (but no bike shop). The motel is managed by an extremely helpful couple from India (Gujerat again). They had run a shop in England (Tamworth) until 3 years ago, when they came out with their 2 boys to join relatives here. Barry was still in need of a new tyre (riding on our only spare) and our host very kindly offered to take us to a large town 20 miles away (with 5 bike shops), saying his wife needed to go shopping. So it's a rest day tomorrow – Margaret's birthday!

Our new friends took us in the family jeep (a new Chrysler SUV) to the university town of College Station, about 32 km/20 miles north-west of Navasota. It's a sprawling purpose-built place, out on the windy plains on Route 6 (the Waco-Houston road). We had an hour or so to buy a tyre, while mother went to change a pair of shoes.

After visiting 3 and phoning the remaining 2 bike shops, we had to accept that our size 700x32 was not to be found. We bought the best alternative, a Hutchinson 700x28, as well as 2 more inner tubes. We also found gas refills, at last, at the Outdoor Shop – a good hour's work, walking a couple of miles in the continuing strong wind. We were extremely grateful for the lift there and back, as there are no buses or taxis from Navasota.

Back at the motel, Barry fitted the new tyre to his rear wheel, finding that the temporary spare was already starting to split under the load. Margaret shopped in Navasota, buying more sunscreen and a light tee-shirt (having discarded her favourite, reduced to tatters). A good take-away chicken dinner for 2 from the local supermarket cost about ₤5, including a 'free' dessert of blackberry cobbler.

11 April 2001     Vanguard Motel, Navasota, Texas     3 km

With nearly 112 km/70 miles to the next accommodation at Coldspring, we awoke to find heavy rain and a very strong cold wind. It was an easy decision to spend another day at Navasota.

We wrote home, posting another 2 completed Bike Route maps back to ourselves, then lunched at 'Dairy Queen'. On a short ride into the downtown, we found a few historic houses but no post cards on sale. Time for reading and resting.

12 April 2001     San Jacinto Inn, Coldspring, Texas     114 km (71 miles)

The heavy wind and rain had ceased, leaving a thick mist hanging over us as we set out at 8.30 am. A light drizzle set in as we rode the wide shoulders of Route 90 for 16 km/10 miles to Anderson. Here we took road 149, a narrow rural road with less traffic but no margin, for another 10 miles of rolling hills and flower-strewn verges to Richards.

After coffee and buns at the service station café, the rain eased and we continued, gradually drying out as the mist gave way to sunny and cloudy intervals. We passed from Grimes County into Montgomery Co, through the beautiful deciduous woods of the Sam Houston National Forest. Missing a left turn onto road 1375, and turning back for it after 4 km/2.5 miles, added an extra 5 miles to today's total!

The next 24 km/15 miles took us into Walker County, across an arm of Lake Conroe (a few men fishing), past a Forest Ranger Station and into New Waverly. This larger town had a couple of restaurants open for lunch and we enjoyed a good chicken stew, vegetables and pink cake at the 'Old Station', inside a converted 1930's Texaco station.

Along the final 37 km/23 miles, on the undulating road 150, we began to see the dreaded logging trucks, though they were gentler and smaller than the terrors in New Zealand. Entering San Jacinto County, the terrain grew lush and watery and we crossed our first bayou (creek) - Winters Bayou, just before the quaintly named village of Pumpkin. At the next village, Evergreen, was a sign for a Pick-your-own Xmas Trees place!

Across the San Jacinto River and into our motel, 3 km/2 miles before Coldspring. It was run by yet another family from India: a mother with 3 small children, who were terrified of a tiny stray puppy, friendly and fluffy, in search of a good home.

There is a bill before the Texas State Senate, proposing to ban groups of more than 2 cyclists from all Texas farm roads that don't have a shoulder. Worse, it also requires all cyclists to ride in single file on any Texas road, carrying a Slow Vehicle triangle on the back of their bikes! 'Don't Mess with Texas' indeed (a car sticker we were given on entering the State). What eco-friendly people these ranchers are.

13 April 2001     96 Motel, Silsbee, Texas     123 km (77 miles)

It's Friday the 13th and also Good Friday. We had another misty start but it was dry, and much hotter later when the sun broke through. The wind is still from the south-east though lighter, and broken by the tall dense woods of the Big Thicket. This pine and hardwood forest was even bigger before the timber demands of the Civil War, and logging continues today.

We rode 18 km/11 miles to Shepherd over the railway line; then another 24 km/15 miles, into Liberty County, past a little fishing lake at Dolen and into Romayor. Here we had coffee at the petrol station/store, where an old negro sat on the porch and exotic red birds sat in the trees. At last it feels like we're coming to the end of Texas and might make Louisiana! Continuing, we stopped to shoo a very lively turtle off the road, hoping to save it from the logging trucks. Immediately a car pulled up and a lad jumped out and grabbed the creature, while Mom explained that he wanted it for the pond in their yard. We hope it survived.

It was another 24 km/15 miles, past the garage at Rye, into Hardin County and through Votaw (a ghost village), to Thicket, consisting of a Baptist church and a post office on Little Pine Island Bayou. We had a picnic lunch in the shade of an abandoned filling station. The scenery is of creeks, streams and rich woodland, with individual homes and farms.

Then we followed the railway on a long straight road through tall forest (with a break on the way for cold drinks at Honey Island service station) for 32 km/20 miles to Kountze. Here we left the Bike Route, turning off to Silsbee in search of a room (the Route forgets that cyclists need to sleep).

The 96 Motel (on US Highway 96 N) proved ideal, half way to Evadale along the way to Kirbyville (our short cut for tomorrow). Taking the advice of the receptionist, we rang the local Pizza Hut and a huge deep-pan pizza with delicious Canadian bacon topping was promptly delivered – a good end to a good day's ride!

Distances and Times of the Round-the-World Journey

No time was lost through illness; Xmas and the New Year consumed a 7-day break in New Zealand and stormy weather kept us indoors for 4 days in total. Otherwise, non-cycling days were used for sight-seeing, maintenance, writing, repairs, cleaning, reading, shopping, planning ahead, telephoning, crosswords, listening to the BBC World Service on our short-wave radio, etc.

Chart of Daily Distances and Running Averages (miles)