Leaving Safford was relatively uncomfortable for myself. Sgt Major Sunrise (falsely known to many of you as that nice person called Susan) likes an early start and has me up at the crack of dawn.

Mornings are like a boot camp and slackers are not tolerated. It’s actually starts the evening before when we’re just about to put the lights out and Susan is packing up! There’s my gear all over the place and she’s packed and ready. I swear one night she even went to bed in her cycling gear and in the morning she just brushed her teeth and stood at the door ready!

Most mornings she will be packed, dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed silently waiting. You see that’s what’s she does – she does it silently! No moaning. No shouting. Not even a tut tut! How do you cope with that? You just know you have to get a move on even when her lips are not moving. Bloody effective!

Actually, Sgt Major Sunrise had me up this day at 5.30am which is an hour before the bloody crack of dawn and as our rubbish Motel 6 didn’t offer a rubbish breakfast we packed and cycled to a nearby 24 hour McDonalds and watched the sunrise over a breakfast McMuffin. How splendid.

As we cycle across America the time zones change with alarming regularity and sunrise and sunset are significantly different each week. It was only a week or two ago I got a lie in until after 7am as it wasn’t light until after 8am. Alas these days appear to have disappeared over the cycling horizon and Sgt Major Sunrise has me up an hour ahead of the sun each day. Sadly, there is another time zone coming up, the clocks are moving and Sgt Major Sunrise has it all monitored with military precision.

So we cycled out of Safford at 0632hrs as the sun hit the Golden M and we set off for Apache Country. Yes, today we were cycling through the San Carlos Reservation.

Now the Apache Indians are reasonably well known to all of us through the Western movies which never did justice to this culturally rich collection of tribes.

The Apache consist of a number of tribes that originated in Alaska and western Canada before moving as far south as Arizona and Mexico. They were nomadic people and primarily hunter gatherers but increasingly came into conflict with the Spanish invaders in the 17th century. Before long, the prowess of the Apache in battle became legend. They are still known to be the greatest fighters with a knife.

Eventually, a Spanish leader agreed to designate an area of Texas for the Apaches to live and in a ceremony in 1749, an Apache chief buried a hatchet to symbolise the fighting was over. We still use the phrase to ‘bury the hatchet’ today.

Of course, after the Spanish, the Apache were in conflict with the Mexicans, Americans and other Indian tribes including the Comanche. Each time it can be rightfully argued that the Apache were defending their lands.

Towards the end of the era of Apache wars, a very famous Apache Indian came to the fore – none other than the legendary Geronimo who led his people’s defence of their lands against the Mexicans and the Americans.

Following the murder of his mother, wife and three children by Mexican soldiers, he went out to the wilderness and a voice came to him and promised:

“no gun will ever kill you. I will take the bullets from the guns of the Mexicans… and I will guide your arrows“.

Backed by this knowledge, Geronimo tracked and killed the soldiers and started on the path to war.

Then along came the Americans who reneged on reservation agreements and set Geronimo and his band of followers off on an a new round of fighting that proved to be the last of the Indian wars against the US. After fighting for his homeland for almost 30 years, Geronimo was the last American Indian warrior to formally surrender to the United States.

He eventually surrendered (actually he surrendered three times but started again twice) and spent 27 years as a prisoner of war though he did have a bit of a celebrity status. In 1905 he even published his autobiography and received a private audience with President Roosevelt.

At the grand age of 79, Geronimo died from pneumonia following a fall from his horse – the bullets never did get him after all.

Here’s Apache Country- beautiful!

Thankfully our cycle was without incident. The Mexicans, the Americans and the Comanche let us pass peacefully. Well we weren’t that peaceful as it was 76 miles and nearly 3,000 feet of ascent up long, long hills and on days like these I like everyone to hear my pain!

We arrived in Globe and it was double trouble. We stayed at a budget Motel 6 and ate at a Taco Bell. I hear you shouting – I know, I know what possessed us? As usual its all about convenience. Motel 6 was beside the highway and we wont walk far for dinner.

At Taco Bell we both had some kind of ‘protein salad bowl’ and I had a burrito as a side. It wasn’t all bad though – the cola was pretty nice.

I’m sorry to say this and I hope I don’t hurt the feelings of Mexico but, really, I just don’t get Mexican food. As I see it, whether you order a bowl, a burrito, a taco, a quesadilla, an enchilada etc etc its kind of all the same stuff presented in a different way cemented together with refried beans.

Seriously, is an enchilada not just a burrito covered in hot sauce? Are fajitas not just a burrito without the wrap? Yes, you can tell me to eat in good Mexican restaurants but we have done traditional and authentic on this trip. Believe me! I’ve eaten more refined beans that you’ve seen in a year!

Changing the subject quickly before I get into Mexican food trouble, here is a random picture of the Saguaro Cactus. The image of the Saguaro is well known to us all from all the old western films. Now when you watch your next John Wayne movie in the company of your illustrious friends you can point to the cactus and say “hey nice Saguaro!”

And here’s Sgt Major Sunrise and a couple of Saguaro guards.

From Globe we cycled through another tiring day for 56 miles and nearly 2,000 feet to Apache Junction. Nice motel this time and we spent an evening in the Handlebar Pub and Grill. Now I’ve no idea why they use the bicycle handlebar as their name as there’s absolutely nothing to do with bicycles in the pub.

I went in thinking I would spend an evening talking spokes, punctures and chain oil. I must admit it was a bit of a disappointment especially as I was sitting in a pub in my best tight fitting fluorescent green Lycra gear carrying my collapsible tyre pump. However, after quite a few craft ales (‘Happy Camper’) an outstanding burger and a live band I forgot my disappointment. Thankfully, Sgt Major Sunrise had her eyes on the clock and got me home before the dancing started – nobody really wanted to see my best dancing moves in lycra!

The next morning, I found there’s nothing worse than a hangover before sunrise, followed by a bowl of granola, two orange juices, four breakfast muffins with egg and bacon followed by a 37 mile cycle to Scottsdale, slightly north of Phoenix. I felt ill and, of course, I blame it on Sgt Major Sunrise for getting me up far too early!

2,418 miles done. Feels like more.

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