I knew the section from Ludlow to Needles was going to be a challenge.
I thought I had a good plan: sleep in a comfy motel bed in Ludlow, then ride to the Hi Sahara Oasis in Fenner and camp there. As far as I could tell, the only real decision was whether to take Adventure Cycling’s recommended detour around the closed section of the National Trails Highway/Route 66 between Amboy and Fenner, or take the original route and swallow 30 miles of I-40.
So I posted the question in three places (the ACA General Forum, CGOAB’s forum, and a Facebook group), figuring I’d read the replies in the morning.
Then I saw the record high temperature warning for the region this week, and the temperature climbed to the top of my worry list.
I was starting to fret in earnest, but it was late and I needed sleep, so I made myself go to bed.
Shortly after I dropped off, I woke up. The air conditioner had gone quiet and the room was warming up. Then I noticed the lights were dead too. I called the gas station across the street, and the clerk apologized: the whole town had lost power.
So there I was, flat on my back under nothing but a sheet, sweating from the heat AND the anxiety. I dozed in fits and woke again when the lights and the AC finally kicked back on. First thing, I checked my questions.
Zero replies on Adventure Cycling’s General forum:
https://forums.adventurecycling.org/index.php?topic=18643.0
A few replies on CGOAB’s forum, and nobody suggested the detour:
https://www.crazyguyonabike.com/forum/board/message/?thread_id=947397&page=1
A few on Facebook, most of them not much help:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/BicycleTouringBikepacking/permalink/10162773064760124
But one was from my friend Hank, whom I met back in 2022 on Route 66, and he said:
“do it. All of the places where bridges washed out have drive around, passable by bicycle. I pulled all nighter from Barstow to Needles in one pull with my buddy just to avoid expected 100+°…”
Hank’s reply planted a seed: I could ride it at night and dodge the worst of the heat. And the more I thought about it, the more obvious it became that there was zero chance I’d actually sleep in Fenner anyway. Way too hot. Once I understood that the only sane option was to get out of bed and start pedaling toward Needles, that’s exactly what I did.
My apprehension was pegged at maximum. I had no idea whether I’d be able to get through the closed bridges in the dark. My SON Ladelux dynamo headlight is wonderful, but the only directional light I had was a little rechargeable headlamp.
As soon as I started pedaling, I began to relax. A couple of hours later I rolled into Amboy. Roy’s sign was dark, the store lit up but locked tight, of course. A mirage of an oasis.
Past the “road closed” signs after Kelbaker Road, the only light in the world was the small cone from my headlight. Now and then I’d catch a freight train far off, see it or just hear it, and once an Amtrak slid by in the distance.
Some of the bridges are actually passable on a bike, but in that dark I took the detour around every one of them. I had no interest in dropping through a missing chunk in the night. My bike is heavy and the touring tires are useless in sand, and every single detour was deep sand, so I just walked them.
Then came the part that astonished AND delighted me. My Garmin, which I barely trust for navigation, knew the detour for EVERY SINGLE CLOSED BRIDGE. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that. No stumbling around in the dark hunting for unmarked ruts, no guessing which one was the “official” way through. This was HUGE, and I will never say another unkind word about Garmin, or about the design that has it rebuilding the route from the track.
When the eastern sky started to go gray around 5:30 AM, I knew I was going to be OK, and the relief just poured through me.
I reached Fenner around 7:00, bought two single-serving freezer-burned frozen desserts and a gallon of cold water for $19.90, and didn’t blink.
The clerk told me she hadn’t seen any bike tourists and didn’t expect to for another month or two, and that you’d have to be nuts to ride this in summer. The ACA recommends a September departure. I guess I’d assumed that meant early September.
I topped off my bottles, guzzled the rest of the gallon until I was sloshing, and set out for Needles. There was a gentle headwind, which I was glad of as the morning heated up. The 40 miles from Fenner were pleasant, except for the first few after I turned right onto US 95. It’s freshly repaved, with horrible rumble strips right at the edge of the road, and the trucks were doing at least 60. So whenever I saw a semi coming I just stopped, pulled off, and waved them through. Almost every one gave me a friendly honk back. For cars I stuck my hand out to wave them into the other lane, and every one of them went around. Lots of waves returned, not a single close pass or bit of attitude.
I checked into a motel by 11:00 (working air conditioner this time), showered, and was eating a veggie pizza by 1:00.
According to my Oura Ring I got three hours and three minutes of sleep, then rode 108 miles, so I’m giving myself two nights here. The next segment, to Kingman, has a long climb and it’ll still be brutally hot, so I think I’ll roll out in the wee hours the day after tomorrow.
Five things I want to call out, because I love them:
* THE DESERT!!!!!
* My Ladelux headlight. It’s a game changer. I wrote about it in my Pacific Coast blog, but here’s the short version: I rode ALL NIGHT and it kept my phone and my Garmin Edge topped off at 100% the whole time. Magical.
* My Garmin Edge’s routing and onboard maps, for flawlessly finding those detours in the dark.
* The CGOAB forums, and the blog search feature. Absolutely indispensable. I donate to Neil regularly. I gripe about the look and feel of the blog now and then, but it’s a wonderful service. I love you, Neil, and your platform.
* And finally, my friend Hank Rowe. I’d hug you right now if I could. I don’t think he reads this blog, but I’m going to make sure he hears about it.
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