Day 3: Brawley, CA to Blythe, CA

82 miles (Biked 44 miles; Hitchiked 38 miles) - Broken Derailer Halts Ride In The Desert - February 3, 2008

	I was ready to ride as the sun broke above the horizon. Here is my one and only picture of Brawley - a shot of the Desert Motel's palm trees with some pink clouds behind. It was chilly before the sun was fully out but I was ready to go! Traveling east outside Brawley, I was rewarded with this lovely view of the sun rising.
	I reached the Imperial Sand Dunes Recreation Area. These dunes don't compare to Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado, but the unique scenery was quite appreciated. Dirt bikers, ATV'ers and other trail riders spend a lot time recreating in this area, and while the terrain seemed quite remote and desolate, the sound of noisy dirt bikes was often within ear's distance. The clouds partially covered up the sun in the morning, which made it difficult coming up with decent photos. Past Glamis, which only consists of a small cafe, convenience store and area for renting dirt bikes, ATV's, etc., there are no services of any kind until Palo Verde. Now this is what I called a true desert experience! I had about 40-45 miles to reach Blythe, California, and while my body was still adjusting to the demands of my bicycling plans, I was riding well and making good time.
	Highway 78 turns north past the long, horizontal stretch of peaks known as the Chocolate Mountain Range. The Colorado River, which borders California and Arizona, is not far to the east. Here is one road view of a mountain that looked more impressive in person.
	Another prominent peak as I continued onward. Like I said, everything was going great until ...
	Snap! The derailer on my bike broke off the frame! This unfortunate event left me unable to peddle and with no way to fix the problem. I would need to find a bicycle shop to put a new derailer on my bike. Just like that, my ride was over! :( Adjacent photo: I held up the derailer, completely broken off the frame of the bike. It is this contraption that creates the necessary torque to turn the back wheel as one peddles.
	So there I was on the side of the road, essentially stranded in the desert and needing to hitchike to Blythe. There was a reasonable amount of traffic on the road, with quite a few RV's and desert recreationists, so I wasn't worried about failing to get a ride. Inspired by the beautiful desert views, I took some time wandering about. Across the highway was a field replete with leafy ocotillos. The lighting wasn't the greatest, but I managed to capture this one tall ocotillo.
Hitchhike To Blythe, California	Just minutes after I stuck my thumb out as I walked down the road with my bike, I was picked up by this couple in their pick-up truck. They were a couple living in Blythe and they were happy to give me a ride. I wanted to tell them all about my trip, but our language barrier appeared to be too great. They spoke in Spanish with each other as I quietly sat in the back seat - very grateful for the ride but also pitying myself over the entire ordeal. I really wanted to express how appreciative I was for their generosity, and I trust it showed somehow in my demeanor to them. It turned out my ride ended just a mile or so south of a border patrol check point. My new friends in the truck showed their resident alien cards, then the patrolman looked at me in the back seat. "Uh, I don't have my ID on me. It's on my bike in the back of the truck." I nervously explained, "I was on a bike and I was stranded ..." "Are you a U.S. Citizen?" he interupted. He seemed annoyed by my rambling. "Oh yes, I am." I assured and he let us proceed. :p)

Troubling Things To Think About In The California Desert Photo Above: A view of the desert between Glamis, CA and Blythe, CA near where my ride ended. As I arrived in Blythe, all sorts of menacing questions arose that evening: Was I cheating by hitchiking to Blythe? Was I compromising the integrity of bike ride across America by obtaining help from a vehicle? Now granted, this stretch of Highway 78 in northeast Imperial County mainly travels north, meaning I didn't gain much horizontal distance towards the Atlantic Ocean, but it still bothered me. Maybe I would perform some bicycle "act of penance" later on to make up for the 38 miles I got out of riding. At the time of this writing, I might actually do something like this for fun later in the year. :) Soon after, friends on the phone would convince me that I had no control over the situation and thus had no reason to be upset. The broken derailer was something I could not have anticipated, and it was not like I had pathetically quit because I was tired and wanted to get out of riding. Is there a bike shop in Blythe or anywhere else nearby that could fix my bike? Road bikes have specific sizes and styles of derailers made specifically by their makers. They are often not interchangable from one bike brand to another. I had a broken derailer problem on this same bike last year, and only when I brought the bike to a Giant dealer was a derailer installed. So this was a risky play of percentages, on whether any bike shops that actually were in the vicinity could help me. By late afternoon that day, I was settled into my motel room and learned there was a small bicycle shop operation inside a Kawasaki jet ski watercraft store in Blythe, Fred's Kawasaki, and another shop 37 miles away in Parker, Arizona. Being that it was late Sunday afternoon, I would arrive there first thing in the morning to the shop in Blythe with the hopes that they could get me back on the road. What are my options if I couldn't get a new derailer? I would spend much of Day 4 fretting and agonizing about the possibilities, and none of them were good. I didn't want to think much about them, at least for the remainder of the day. Meanwhile, I settled down and watched the New York Giants defeat the New England Patriots 14-10 in the Super Bowl. I felt compelled to cheer for the underdog (the Giants, of course) and figured my attempt to cycle across America gave me underdog status in my own right. I took heart in that memorable and historic game as I was huddled up in a Motel 6 room in the desert.