The Journey

I awoke at 1 AM this Sunday morning already hung over.  Saturday morning was spent taking pictures of the Prescott Arizona Rally.  It began raining hard about noon, which made the 11 miles of dirt road on my 30 year old street bike, um, interesting.   And the 20 miles back to the hotel a reminder of how horrible it is to ride in the rain.

The afternoon was spent getting warm, and then editing and uploading the photographs.  The evening was spent in the back parking lot of the Prescotonian Hotel hanging out with Seth and the other rally drivers drinking beer.  You know how the stories go…  “Remember that time my car caught on fire while racing…”  “Did you see how the Camaro got wedged under the bridge…”  “when my brakes went out on that 90 degree left…”

But I was tired and returned to my cheap hotel room and passed out early, somewhere around nine, which was why I woke up at one, hungover.  Trying to get back to sleep, reading did not work, television did not work, playing solitaire with random music from the computer did not work.  So I finally decided to plan my route south.   By this time I had cut out the random music, and was happily listening to The Sundays first album.

So here is my general idea for the journey south:


East out of Prescott on 169, then 260 following through the mountains.  South on 60/77 which is one of those roads which wiggles a lot, and has green “beauty marker” dots next to it.  South on 70 to meet the 10 freeway near New Mexico.   South on 186 and 191 to Douglass on the Mexico/US Border.


East on 2 to Nuevo Casa Grandes.  South on 10, then south on 23 to the town of Creel, which is the main town of Copper Canyon.  Down through Copper Canyon to Parral.   South on 45 to Durango.  South on 45 to Zacatecas.   From there meander on my whim, generally heading for Guanajuato.

(These plans are subject to change at the whim of the weather, motorcycle or rider and do not constitute a leagal basis for my whereabouts)

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2 Responses to The Journey

  1. dan swoboda says:

    No, there seems to be more snow on the shattered bones of Steve Fossett than in Anchorage just now. You of all people should know that if you really want a noteworthy snowfall here, just wait for St. Patric’s day.
    You needn’t head South into another country to find the vile side of humanity. Here, we, too have druglords, spiced with toothless ladies and laddies of Negotiable Virtue. Have funn. Be safe. Keep in touch.

  2. Danielle Villicana D'Annibale says:

    You sound like a true beatnick my friend!!! On the road, Jack Kerouak, go go go. I imagine you in that awesome red MG, not on a street bike! Alexis Lynne Pavenick gave me your link. Hope you are great. Sounds like you are. That area is so gorgeous, enjoy!

    I’m writing from Rome, Italy. I’ve been in Italy doing art stuff since I graduated from college in 1994, with a short break in Las Vegas for a couple of years in 1999. What have you been up to? Much love. Have a great trip, Danielle

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