Coolidge – Phoenix - 97km
Our path soon reached Phoenix’s outskirts. Still, it was an additional
50 kilometres to the city centre, considerably further than expected.
Fortunately, it was Sunday, making it comfortable riding into the city
centre via a cycle-friendly path, which instantly endeared me to
Phoenix and the USA.
The Phoenix hostel turned out to be a good enough place to park off.
The small hostel had an old trailer outback that one could rent at $
a night (considered a bargain). Even if tiny, the trailer was excellent,
as it had a radio and heater, which made for a cosy, old-fashioned
stay. The following day, we searched for an outdoor store and bicycle
shop. Ernest found a sleeping mat, and I bought a pair of shoes to
keep my feet warm in the dreadful weather.
The hostel was comfortable, and staying one more day came
naturally, providing time for laundry and waterproofing the tents.
Upon my stroll around town, I was intrigued that I found no one
walking about. Of course, being midday on a Wednesday, one would
expect to see hordes of people. Still, there wasn’t a soul in sight, only
the odd person pushing his trolley and talking to himself. People who
drove past looked at me, clearly thinking: “You poor fool, don’t you
know no one walks here?” The place resembled a giant, deserted
movie set... how strange. The sole person I met on my meander was
a sad-looking teenager who wanted to buy a joint from me. I
would’ve gladly given it to him if I had any, as it sure looked like he
needed it.