Lovekin Boulevard & Hobsonway In Blythe, California

A good night's sleep and a bright sunny morning can do wonders for one's mental health and outlook. First thing in the morning, I wandered through the streets of Blythe and soon found Fred's Kawasaki on East Hobsonway. I felt refreshed and optimistic that somehow, with my "can do" attitude, this bicycle would be fixed and yesterday's events would be put to rest. There was just one little problem: The bicycle shop is closed on Sundays and Mondays ... AND TODAY IS MONDAY!

Yikes! What was I going to do?! Aghast at the prospect of spending the entire day in this small desert town, I desperately sought other options. I contacted a bicycle shop in Parker, Arizona (37 miles away), but the gentleman who answered gave me the standard answer that he did not carry a Giant brand derailer and had no way to work on my bike.

"Is there any other option? There isn't any kind of derailer just to get me going again?" I asked with a tone of frustration. Again, I received a cordial but insistent response that he could not help me.

With my options out, I was resigned to the fact that I would be stuck in Blythe, California for the day, with my remaining hope that maybe, just maybe, the local bicycle operation inside a Kawasaki dealership could do the job for me tomorrow. It was the only reasonable option. In the meantime, the task at hand was to occupy my time all day in Blythe, with no car, no working bicycle and just my feet as transportation.

A Fairly Miserable Day In Blythe, California

That morning, with the desert sun bright and promising a warm day that would surpass 70 degrees, I decided to make the best of things. I would spend a full day in Blythe and darnit, I was going to make the most of this.

I had read similar trip reports of long distance cyclists meeting intersting people and encountering astonishing "random acts of kindness" that blessed them behind what they imagined. I figured I was due for such an experience. Maybe God had a reason that I would spend all day in this "dot a map" town.

It was Day 4 and excluding my friends in San Diego and the generous couple I hitched a ride with, I had not quite experienced any notable connections with others. Today would be my day! I'll call churches, I'll dine and be social in restaurants, I'll sit in the Starbucks ... I'll do whatever necessary and believe that fate will be my guide with what I was needed to learn today! I convinced myself something noteworthy or special would happen.

Nothing happened. Nothing special. Nothing noteworthy. All day.

I called various churches, planning to ask if any Monday evening Bible studies or events were happening that a newcomer could attend, but I could not reach a live person. My dining at the Courtesy Restaurant rendered me without any connection, and sitting at the town Starbucks was equally fruitless. I spent an hour on the Internet at the Blythe Library, which helped pass some time, but the reality of the day became fairly clear: I was doomed to loneliness and boredom!

Photo above: The Starbucks and Courtesy Cafe & Restaurant in the heart of Blythe, California.

Oh, but I did catch the attention of some of the locals, namely transients who apparently gravitate to this town during the winter months, similar to the migration of "snowbirds." Walking around town with my broken-down bicycle and its saddle bags made me look and feel like one of the many homeless people around, and I attracted various comments from scary-looking individuals about my bike, what was wrong with it, etc.

By mid-afternoon, I gave up. One hopeful plan was to meet someone who would put me up for the evening, so I could save money that would otherwise go to a motel room, but my hopes were futile. I grew so tired of walking around with my bicycle that I caved in; My cheap motel room provided welcome relief from tending to the bike.

Worrisome Evening

It was an utterly frustrating and maddening day, and as evening set in, I agonized about the possibilities of being stuck indefinitely in Blythe. I still faced the potential scenarios that: 1) The Blythe bicycle shop would not be able to replace the derailer, and 2) The trip would likely be over. If I couldn't fix the bike, my only realistic option was to partake in Jennifer's offer to drive the long distance from San Diego to Blythe to bring me back to my starting point.

The prospects of such a tragedy tormented me for much of the evening in Blythe. I could not conceive the idea of the trip being over - of having to go back to my town of Buena Vista, Colorado so soon to somehow explain to everyone that the trip ended on such a dismal note.

I am indeed a born-again Christian, a follower and believer in Jesus Christ's death and resurrection. 15 years ago, I allowed him to be lord and savior, and I can give numerous examples of great deeds he has done in my life and ways he has changed my very being. But on this night, I would exhibit very little evidence of such Christian attributes. There would be little trusting of God's providence with the outcome and my few prayers were loaded with worry. I fell asleep anxious and discouraged, and my sleep was dominated with unsettledness. The worst case scenario had a very real chance of happening and the trip would be over, I thought. I would soon find out the next morning when Fred's Kawasaki opened up at 9 a.m.

I have called this entire quagmire "Wall #1." It would be the first of three walls I would overcome on my journey.