We woke to the industrial area we’d parked in come alive. Dan made a good point that it’s nice to be couped up in a van, snoozing away, with all the hustle and bustle happening around you. Yes it was. Needing a bathroom and food, we made way out of the industrial site to Einstein’s Bagels. We took turns keeping Cleo company outside while the other went to the bathroom then ordered ourselves a couple of bacon and egg bagels. It was pretty rich food and the smoothie we shared was incredibly sweet. I teased Dan that he had to go to work, but it would most likely be his last weekend with the jetski company.

We said goodbye for the weekend and parted ways, Dan making an incredibly rude gesture at me from his car as he drove away. I was heading back to Sedona for one last ride but on Dan’s suggestion, instead of taking the direct route that I’d become so accustomed to, I took a more circuitous route through Wickenburg, Prescott and Jerome. I ended up driving right past the lake on my way through. As I approached Wickenburg, there was a sign over the highway that said to expect delays thanks to the lunch time event happening. Ooh! I drove in to the historic district of Wickenburg to find out what was happening. At the visitor’s center, a very helpful man told me that 160 men on horseback would be riding into town after having spent the week out in the Arizona desert. Cool! I had about an hour to kill and while I originally planned to go for a run or do something active, it was much too hot for that so I just found a shady spot to park and did some overdue work on the car. In an hour, I managed to fix my back door, make some improvements to my steady table and make a failed attempt at fixing my wheel hub cover.

All that done, it was nearly time for the riders to clip-clop their way into town so I headed for the main street. It was lined with a few people awaiting the arrival of the parade. I walked up and down and eventually stopped at a row of seats that had been put out in front of the Best Western hotel. I sat down next to an elderly man asking if the seats were a free-for-all, he figured they were until someone came along and asked us to move so I sat. Jack, an 83-year-old retiree from Phoenix who had retired in Wickenburg, kept me talking the whole time we waited for the horses. Father of two daughters and husband to a wife who doesn’t like to travel, Jack was an optimistic fellow who was convinced he’d live to be 100 and shared my views on technology and how it is affecting our society. He was a great man to talk to. We pointed to the sky when we saw drones flying about to capture the action and Jack, with his keen eyes, spotted the precession of horses down the street well before I did. The band of horses slowly made their way around the main round-a-bout before trotting down the main street to the cheer of the crowd. They waved their flags and smiled at the crowd, but I was looking at the horses. They were all shapes and sizes, colours and temperaments. There were even some that I’m sure were donkeys. Every rider was wearing a cowboy hat and some men stopped to give their women flowers they’d retrieved from the desert.

It was all over pretty quickly, the only remnants of the event the horse poo strewn across the tarmac and the police escorts allowing traffic back through. Jack and I said goodbye and wished each other well. I walked back to the car and carried on towards Prescott. Before long, I was driving in the mountains, twisting and turning along the side of a ridge looking down into a valley. I was looking for a trailhead to go riding. My first attempt didn’t work out because I wasn’t up for driving five miles down a rutted forest road so I carried on, climbing ever higher. During this climb, my nose started bleeding. It had just felt a little blocked and when I blew it, I was surprised to see a lot of red in my tissue. Ewwww. Maybe from the increase in elevation? I’d never had a proper nosebleed before so this was new. I carried on to the trailhead anyway and cleaned myself up. It seemed to have stopped but I could feel blood seeping down the back of my throat. I made lunch at the trailhead and consulted the trail map. I found that the campsite I was aiming for as along the riding route so decided to drive over there and ride straight from camp. When I got to it, it wasn’t a free camp at all, but a pull out with a big sign that said no camping. My nose had got going again at this point and I decided it probably wasn’t a good time to go riding. I was feeling pretty lethargic anyway. Feeling a bit of FOMO, I drove out of Prescott and on towards Jerome.

I was keen for an early camp considering the nosebleed thing and I had a few things I wanted to do anyway. At around 4pm, I drove into Prescott National Forest just outside of Jerome and two miles in, found the gate into the forest half open. There were a couple of cars parked outside the gates so I slowed, wondering what the go was, then decided that since the gate was open, I could drive through, which I did. I drove all the way to the end of the road and found a beautiful campsite that was completely deserted. This one too had its gate half open. Whatever!

I found a choice spot right on the hillside at 8,500 feet with a view into the Sedona valley and of Flagstaff mountain. It was like I was looking at a summary of what I’d done the past few weeks, it was beautiful. I got the impression I wasn’t quite supposed to be at the campsite since all the fire rings were standing up and spotlessly clean and the bathrooms were locked. Oh well! I had a hot shower, then did a round of firewood collection, then installed my new tyre onto the front left corner, giving me two near-new tyres on the front. I put the bike back on the roof and did a bit of car organisation before lighting my fire and getting dinner started. Unfortunately the potatoes I had had gone bad so I couldn’t have the coal-cooked baked potatoes I’d planned on, so I threw them one by one into the forest with all my might. Risotto for dinner!

Being alone for the first time in ages, I got on the phone to Dad, then my friend Jon who will be visiting me in just over a week. My loneliness soon dissipated after talking to them and eating my dinner by the fire. Apart from the mushrooms I burned over the fire, it was a pretty good eat. I ate it sitting on a bench that overlooked the valley, looking at the twinkling lights of Cottonwood below. It felt special to be completely alone on a hillside with a view of hundreds of people below. I blogged by the fire until I was too tired to carry on then slept like a starfish in my warm bed.