I first met my wife in August of 1988. After 14 years at Bethlehem Steel she had recently quit and taken a job at the local newspaper. Visiting her friends during a lunch hour, we met in the main parking lot at “The Steel”. The month before I had just completed my Reno to Missoula trip and was planning a three-day bike trip across Pennsylvania with Len Vreeland and his son-in-law Greg. That particular long weekend exercise was washed out due to a stubborn “Nor’easter”, and in the ensuing weeks and months she and I found enough in common to enable me to put bicycling on the back burner. By the spring of ’89, our relationship was quite cemented but the momentum of the annual bike trip was still enough of a force to plan yet another excursion.
Now there was an opportunity to incorporate some of her vacation time with my own. No, she was not up for a long bike trip; however, we could arrange to meet up at the end of an abbreviated tour, spending a week together before coming home. Once again, the Grand Canyon beckoned. She had never been there and I never needed much of an excuse to go back.
I would fly to Flagstaff, AZ and commence a three-week bike tour, looping into California, Nevada, and Utah before returning to Flagstaff. She would then fly out and meet me for the final week. We would rent a car and visit the South Rim after which we would drive to the North Rim. The car could be left there as a one-way rental, allowing us to do a three-day hike into the Canyon and back to the South Rim.
Reservations were made at a great B&B located in the pine forests just north of Flagstaff. I stayed there the first two nights, allowing me to get my bike assembled and ready to go. Likewise, we reserved a night at the end of my trip when she joined me. It also afforded a great way to have the bike box waiting for me to repack for the trip home.
The bike trip went exactly as planned. Mostly. At Furnace Creek in the depths of Death Valley, I chickened-out on the necessary climb out the next morning as daytime temperatures were around 100. I wasn’t sure I could climb to the higher and cooler temps before the heat set in for the day. So, I finagled a ride with a park ranger that was going to Beatty that morning. It was the only trip I ever had to hitch a ride. It turned out that I could have quite easily climbed to about the 3000-foot level (by leaving at the crack of dawn) where daytime temps were very tolerable. Except for the excessive heat in DV, I could count on good weather for the rest of the trip at this time of the year. Thus, I could keep to a strict daily itinerary in order to meet my wife at the Flagstaff airport on time. Our visit and cross-canyon hike also went without any hitches and has become one of our most memorable experiences.