We landed in Phoenix, Arizona, USA, in early June. We immediately felt a million miles away from Lima, Peru where we had boarded the plane a few hours earlier. After 8 months of hearing very little English being spoken, it felt strange to understand the conversations going on around us as we queued, bleary eyed and sleep deprived, in the immigration queue. We then had the usual, inevitable, nervous wait for luggage. It’s always such a relief when we see our bags and bikes arrive intact on the luggage carousel (I’m sure it had nothing to do with writing ‘we love American Airlines’ all over our bike boxes). After finding a quiet corner of the airport and rebuilding our bikes, under the gaze of several bemused and curious airport staff, we were ready to roll again.

When you are inside an airport, pretty much anywhere in the world, they all kind of look and feel the same, but we knew that the world outside the all white, all glass and bright lights of Phoenix airport would be very different to the very similar looking, clinical feeling airport where we had boarded the plane in Lima. We took a deep breath.  We looked at each other. And we rolled the bikes onwards. The next section of the journey begins.

We had been warned about the heat of Phoenix, but nothing really quite prepared us for the wall of hot air that hit us as we left the airport. The sun was beating down and reflecting back at us from all the concrete and tarmac that seemed to surround us on all sides, above and below. Within minutes we were drenched in sweat, even our eyes feeling sweaty and stingy in the extreme heat. We couldn’t quite believe humans lived in such an extreme environment, but then we realised that we couldn’t actually see any humans. Riding along the pristine canal towpath we could see lots of fancy offices, motorways, shopping centres and car parks, but no people. It dawned on us that no one was outside, everyone was in the air con of their truck or in the air con of their office, or in the air con of the shop – everyone’s exposure to the extreme heat was short and fleeting as they dashed between the different air cons available. We, the crazy English ones, were the only people out in the unbearable heat.

But when we arrived with our WarmShowers hosts, Gaylene, Layne and family, this is when our warm welcome to Arizona really began. They generously opened their home to us with the only rule being ‘When you’re here, you’re home’. What a welcome. We were immediately made to feel like one of the family, and likewise we immediately felt like we were back at the Robinson family home with all the life and love that a large family brings. Layne’s energy and enthusiasm for life is infectious, and Gaylene’s warm heart is a joy we have continued to carry with us.

We had arranged for lots of our replacement equipment to be sent ahead, so Layne and Gaylene had a collection of parcels waiting for us when we arrived – It felt like Christmas! But the key replacement parts – replacement dynamo hubs for the front wheels of both bikes – were delayed in the post. It meant we ended up staying almost a week. We (I mean the royal ‘we’- i.e Ted!) managed to carry out lots of bike maintenance and replaced many parts that were wearing out. We took the time to finalise our route plans across North America, restock our decaf earl grey tea supplies and enjoyed time in the outdoor swimming pool in the back garden. It was bliss. It was hard to tear ourselves away from Layne and Gaylene’s, but once Ted had rebuilt the wheels and Layne had supplied us with a large bag of his infamous, totally delicious, homemade cookies, we knew we had to get moving again.

Setting the alarm for 4:30am felt reminiscent of our early days in Patagonia avoiding the fierce winds, but this time the early start was to avoid the bonkers heat. It didn’t really work. By 7:30am it was 35°c, by lunchtime it was 45°c and by 2pm we were battling through 55°c. Just let that sink in. 55°c. It is possible to slow cook a chicken at 55°c. So there we were, climbing up the highway, through the desert, surrounded by cactus and the famous Arazonian red rocks, literally roasting like a couple of vegetarian chickens. It was tough. The water we had set off with quickly warmed up to a temperature hotter than body temperature, which did nothing to quench our thirst or cool us down. It just swelled our tummies making us feel even more uncomfortable. Thankfully, a couple of trail angels, in the form of big, burly and bearded road maintenance workers, pulled over to hand us 2 litres of ice cold water from their cool box. We gulped it down and could feel the instant effects of it chilling us from the inside out. Such gracious kindness we will forever be grateful for.

Our first day on the road (and in reality every day since then) has been planned around water resupply points. With temperatures so high and no ground water to be seen, it’s really important to know where we can refill our water bottles. On day one, our only option was to pull off the highway into a small village on the map and hope that someone there would be kind enough to give us some water. The village was a small collection of big houses, all behind closed gates with large ‘Private property’ signs – not ideal. We picked out what we thought was the most friendly looking house. The wording on top of the gate read ‘Welcome’ and there was a large sign propped against the gate to indicate we were ‘Welcome in the National Forest’. We couldn’t see anyone to speak to, but we could hear music on and tools being used. We tentatively opened the squeaky, creaking gate hoping to ask if there was any water anywhere, or if there was somewhere safe to put our tent for the night. But we didn’t manage to get that far. Just as the gate creaked, three huge dogs came charging towards us barking away, followed by a man waving his arms in the air shouting ‘What are you doing, this is private property, get off my land’. We turned and immediately hot-footed it out of there, shouting ‘Sorry!’ over our shoulders as we retreated. Night one on the road in the USA and we had learnt our lesson – never go through a closed gate. At least we got that learning done with early on. A little shaken but also laughing at how it seems that some stereotypes in life are true, we composed ourselves and headed to a neighbour just down the street. This time, we were greeted by a really helpful lady, who instantly offered us water and indicated a couple of places in the village where we could stay. It just shows you really do never know what you’re going to get when you have to reach out for help, but we noticed that this kind of experience, which would have really stressed us out at the beginning of the trip, is now just part of the everyday for us.

Thankfully, we were soon leaving the highway behind as we joined the Western Wildlands Route. It is a relatively new route that heads from the Mexican border up to the Canadian border, as a quieter alternative to the well trodden path of the  Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. We also thankfully climbed up to altitudes between 1000m – 2000m ish, so the temperatures also cooled. We enjoyed the shade of beautiful forests during the day and we even found ourselves getting our sleeping bags out in the tent as the temperatures dropped at night.

But the lack of water is a constant challenge that remains with us. Every river or creek or stock tank marked on the maps is dry. Totally bone dry. It’s like the life has been sucked out of all the waterways, drained and redirected to towns and cities in this desert environment. It means we’ve often had to carry a couple of days worth of water to make sure we have enough. On leaving Oak Creek Village, we were both loaded up with 11 Litres of water each, that’s an extra 11kgs of weight – I’m so pleased I had the foresight to chop the handle off my toothbrush before setting off, I think it was that that made all the difference! Despite all the extra weight, we somehow still managed to enjoy the twisty, turny, flowy mountain bike trails against the backdrop of the famous red cliffs and rock formations of Sedona. Climbing up the popular jeep tour track of Schnebly Hill with all that extra weight put our best off-road climbing skills to the test, but rewarded us with incredible views from the top.

The sweat and toil of the climb was worth it, as it brought us to the higher altitudes, cooler climes and shadey aspen glades around Flagstaff. It also meant we enjoyed some nights camping in amongst forests for the first time since Patagonia. We realised how much we had missed them. The peace that comes with sleeping amongst the chirping birds, the rustling leaves and the light beams breaking through the boughs is so calming. The forests are quickly becoming our favourite habitat to spend time in, but in Arizona, even the forests have no water to be seen. All the creeks remained empty. None of the springs were flowing. As we brewed our tea that evening, we were pleased we’d carried all that extra water weight on our bikes.

Following a good night’s sleep in the forests, a roll down the hill brought us to the super cool vibes of Flagstaff. It’s red brick buildings, vintage shop frontages and many breweries meant it was easy to see why every-other person here was a fully fledged hipster. A warm welcome from another couple of  WarmShowers hosts, Joe and Ana, was also awaiting us.

Ted’s front chainring and crank had been making some creaking, crunching noises since we left Phoenix. After many hours of rumination on the bike, Ted had provided a diagnosis that a new front chain ring was needed (we are still running the same ones we left England with in September, 12,000kms ago!). A quick spin around all the bike shops in town told us that none of them had the specific one he needed. It was even out of stock in a lot of places online. Ted was getting frustrated. The one place we did see that had it in stock was a bike shop in Sedona, that we had cycled passed only two days earlier – facepalm! A quick call to them and some true trail magic was put to work – Erik, a guy who worked in the shop, commuted from Flagstaff everyday and said he was happy to drop it off with us – Amazing! What a guy!

So after a bit more bike maintenance, we left Flagstaff and perserved up some very hot and dry climbs to head back up to the high plateaus of the cooler aspen groves. When riding up the forest tracks, we were surrounded on all sides by the destruction of a forest fire that swept across the mountainside about a year ago. The trees had been reduced to singular trunks, their branches no more than stumps. They were blackened and charred, the scaring showing across the whole forest, like a destructive high tide leaving it’s mark on the shore. The thick tree bark doing it’s job of keeping those trees still standing alive, but only just. The forest floor was a barren tarred wasteland. It was so sad to see.

As we wiggled our way along the road, we came across workmen who explained they were working on the water pipelines that ran underneath the road. And it was then that we noticed, every potential water source on the mountainside drained into these water pipes, and ran into reservoirs supplying the local area. We finally had an explanation as to why there was no surface water to be seen. It was like the whole mountain was being drained of all its water and sucked dry. No wonder it had gone up like a tinderbox during a wild fire.

I know that in England we are used to seeing water everywhere – the streams, the rain, the rivers, more rain, the bogs, the perpetual rain. And I know we are accustomed to grumbling about it being so wet, but when you’re in a hot environment where there is no water you are reminded just how much of a life force it is.

This was really brought home when, a couple of days later, our hot and dry journey northwards had us standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. It’s impressive. You can’t fail to be in awe at how vast it is. Seemingly stretching out in every direction, including down. To stand on the rim, unable to see the mighty Colorado River in the base of the canyon, but knowing it’s there, knowing it’s force has carved out this huge chasm, is pretty spectacular. I sometimes think it’s easy to forget just how much impact one river can have on the landscapes, environment, animals and humans that it supports, but the Grand Canyon is a physical representation of that ripple effect of the river, and standing on its rim, that effect cannot be disregarded or diminished. It illustrates that beautiful life force right before your eyes. And when it’s bathed in the first light of the day at dawn, its even more beautiful.

It felt surreal to know we had cycled to the Grand Canyon. It’s the kind of thing that when we were back home, whenever we saw a picture of such an iconic attraction one of us would turn to the other and say ‘we’ll cycle there one day’ so to have actually done it felt kind of monumental.

As we left the Grand Canyon, and continued northwards towards the Utah state line, we knew that we were likely to be leaving the worst of the heat behind us in Arizona. Even though we would still have the lack of water to contend with, the thought that the temperatures were likely to be a little cooler from now on was a relief.  But we know that the warmth of the Arizonian people (particularly Layne and Gaylene) will stay with us long after the heat of summer has gone.