"Warning: This Is The Worst Road In Pima County"

The Christmas Boogie is over, a great improvement over last year - nobody died. The weather was mostly cooperative, the people friendly, the beer dirt cheap or free and always cold, and the planes plentiful. At one point they were running 5 Twin Otters to keep us jumping. The biggest problem was finding room to pack but somehow there was always space to squeeze in. Cassandra and I spent a day doing free 4-way training with Thomas Hughes of Arizona Airspeed, and some friends came down from Edmonton for a few days so we had them over for a barbecue. There was even a canopy collision over the landing area at 100 feet that turned out remarkably well when the lady who cut off someone on final had her parachute miraculously re-inflate enough that all she did was break her leg. If you're gonna be dumb, ya better be tough!

And the peasants rejoiced.

We've fled the DZ for a few days of peace and sanity before the Canadian Invasion begins, heading down to Tucson to do some riding. From one of the camping guides I purchased we picked out a little piece of Bureau of Land Management desert on the outskirts of Tucson to park on. There are probably 30 motor homes and trailers parked within a few hundred yards of us, but aside from the occasional sound of a generator we could be in the middle of nowhere. We spent yesterday evening having a campfire and could barely make out the lights in a couple of the other trailers.

This morning we got on the bikes, picked a road, and headed south across the desert. Our goal was Tombstone, or maybe even Bisbee, we got nowhere near either one but we sure did find a lot of fun. The road started out straight, eventually became undulating, and after we had turned off to cut across to Nogales it became downright challenging. Sweeping corners quickly became twisty and technical, and after a brief debate we decided to head down a road that my map said was gravel but started out paved. The scenery was gorgeous, and if it wasn't for all the US Border Patrol pickup trucks we would have had the road all to ourselves. The further along the road we went the worse it got, and the more white pickups we passed on the road or driving slowly cross country. That's when we passed this sign.

The road was already badly deteriorated and strewn with potholes, so we figured it couldn't get much worse and kept going.

It got much worse.

Within a couple of miles we were crawling along at 15-20 MPH, occasionally resorting to the shoulder of the road as it was in better condition than what was left of the paved surface. I stopped to talk to Cassandra and suggest we turn around but she pulled up beside me with a huge grin on her face and declared "This road is Awesome!" Okay then, continue it is. We carried on, weaving back and forth trying to find the best path through the mess until we topped a rise and came to another sign that declared "Primitive Road. Caution. This surface is not regularly maintained. Use at your own risk."

Okay, now if the part that was behind us was was the good part, what the hell was up ahead?

We were debating the wisdom of continuing (Cassandra was all for pressing on, I voted for turning back. In case you haven't figured it out by now I don't rely on The Brunette to be the voice of restraint and reason, this is a new experience for me, nobody has ever accused me of being the voice of reason) when a Border Patrol truck came over the hill ahead and pulled up beside us.

He rolled the window down, surveyed the two sport bikes and asked in a skeptical voice "Are you planning on taking those bikes down this road with them tires?"

"Well, yeah, that was the plan." I replied. "Does it get any worse?"

He looked from us, to the sign reading Primitive Road, and back at us, then said "It gets worse, a lot worse. And watch out for the Mexicans hiding in the hills."

Just then my phone received a text from my service provider reading 'Hey Jet Setter! Welcome to Mexico!"

We turned back.

Maybe we'll go to Tombstone tomorrow.