Epic Firehouse Adventure: Biking to Tucson’s Fire Station Paradise from Picacho Peak State Park
From Rough Rides to Five-Star Firehouse Feasts – Our Unbelievable Day
Imagine this: we’re nestled in a mansion-turned-firehouse in the scenic northwest foothills of Tucson, Arizona. The breathtaking view of the valley below, with twinkling city lights, a golden moon, and a sky full of stars, makes us forget the hardships of the day. After an exhausting ride, Jonathan and I indulged in a sumptuous dinner of buttery mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a trio of decadent ice creams topped with chocolate cake. Firefighters, not just heroes but also gourmet chefs, know how to make you feel at home.
While our clothes were in the wash, I luxuriated in a Jacuzzi tub (which, comically, erupted in water, as did Jonathan’s shower – typical firehouse shenanigans). We each have our own room, comfortable beds, and even got to play in the fire trucks and with destructive tools. Tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp, we’ll be woken up via speaker and flashing alarm. This firehouse, known as the “vacation station,” is a paradise with few emergency calls and an enviable quality of life.
But today’s journey didn’t start in such luxury. It began at Picacho Peak State Park with an unexpected wake-up at the break of dawn as we overheard a volunteer named Norm, working on a small ramada outside of our tent, speaking with the park ranger. He explained to the ranger that we had erected our tent upon the one closed camp spot in the entire park. The ranger advised him we had underpaid our fee, and he would be charging us an additional $8 as soon as we exited our tent.
As we reluctantly introduced ourselves, we learned Norm was actually a joy of a man who was also an avid cyclist. He’s done touring in North Carolina and has spent time with his wife, Shiela, in Nicaragua. He said that although the poverty in Nicaragua was intense, the people were extremely friendly and welcoming, and felt we would love it there. He also mentioned that he was off to Nogales around the same time we were. There was no talk of drug cartels and danger, which Jonathan and I have become accustomed to; instead, it was merely his anticipation for his upcoming visit. It’s so fascinating, the differing opinions we get reference Mexico and Central America and what to expect. We are looking forward to developing our own opinions, based on experience, over the course of our upcoming adventure south of the border!
The Hungarian Blessing: A Day Without Big Fat Elephants
We also met a quirky Hungarian man at the campground who oddly wished us a “big fat elephant” (noit verher elefant in Hungarian). He explained that wishing someone luck brings bad fortune, so instead, you wish them something nonsensical. This amused us endlessly and became our mantra for the day, because anytime you don’t have a big fat elephant, it’s probably a pretty good day.
Desert Heat and Dreams of Hydration
The bathing facilities at the campsite were phenomenal, and we spent much time standing under the hot water, washing away a day’s worth of caked on sweat. When we emerged from the restroom, we realized that beads of sweat were quickly starting to collect again, since it was fast approaching 95 degrees! Such is life in the desert.
After a quick detour and breakfast at Dairy Queen, Jonathan and I commenced our journey once again, following the frontage road along the I-10. My thermometer read 120 degrees (I think it was so hot, it just stopped working and randomly displayed some really big number). We were both quite weak from lack of sleep and dehydration, and the intense heat was not making riding any easier. We biked for what seemed to be endless miles, and at one point, we made it to an ostrich farm. It was also at this point, we realized we had been heading in the wrong direction and had to backtrack. When riding a bicycle thousands of miles, this can be an unfortunate realization.
Our water heated up and Jonathan ran out of water completely. We rhythmically pushed and pulled our pedals, inching our way south, yet uncertain as to when we would hit a city with life and energy supplying liquid. Finally, Jonathan pulled to the side of the road for a break, and we sat in the shade for a good 10 minutes. I noticed a lady ladybug infestation, with literally hundreds swarming around us. We observed they were gathering around a murky puddle in a dried-up canal. Jonathan and I contemplated taking out our water purifier to prepare said water for our consumption. We were that thirsty. Thankfully, I insisted with the luck of so many ladybugs, we would surely find water soon. Shortly thereafter, luck struck, and we found the town of Marana, complete with a Circle K and La Tumbleweed Bar, where we hydrated and refueled.
We imbibed ice cold water so plentiful, we got brain freeze. We also got a Diet Pepsi to enhance our dwindling mental faculties. On our way out, the entire bar of patrons swarmed around us, intrigued by our bicycles and wanting to learn more. We came to find out, one of those men had been to Panama while in the Army years prior. They were quite the inspirational group, offering us support and motivation in making it to our goal. They offered us matchbooks from the bar to remember them by, which we still have to this day.
We then continued south, at many times riding on closed roads. This allowed us to ride away from dangerous traffic. I noticed expansive fields on the side of the road growing cotton, one of Arizona’s major agricultural commodities which have contributed to the State’s economy since its early days. I stopped to feel its soft texture and pay homage to one of Arizona’s “Five C’s”.
As we rode further south, Jonathan was sweating profusely, and his breathing was labored. He really seemed to be having difficulty riding, and we wondered if we were in over our heads with him struggling so much this early on in the ride. We stopped at a gas station to recover, where we noticed, he had been riding on a pancake flat rear tire the entire day! Cactus needles are no joke.
Serendipitous Encounters and Gracious Hosts
After we finished changing Jon’s tire, we spoke with a Highway Patrol Officer named Josh, who was parked nearby, to ask for directions to Fire Station 35. He was extremely helpful, using his phone to MapQuest the location. We also came to find, the world is small indeed, and he was a friend of a friend and would tell said friend hello once he got off shift!
We rode up an enormous hill with traffic that was dangerously close. The sun was setting, and I soon learned the light on my bike was not adequate for riding in the dark, and then the battery completely died on my LED light. We also unfortunately realized we were going the wrong way, had to make a U-Turn, and bike all the way back down the hill for several miles.
We ran into a Marana police officer named Dan parked under a tree. He had once been a firefighter in New York, is an avid biker, and had cycled across the United States twice. He loves biking in Texas and has raised considerable funds through his biking adventures for charity. We exchanged information and he sent us on our way in a new direction to find the fire station.
We rode all the way up the same grueling hill once more, yet there was still no fire station. We encountered a couple walking their dog, and they explained that there was a new fire station, and they were certain it was either left OR right. Meeting our threshold and being unwilling to continue biking in circles, at this point, we called Matt of the 100 Club to ask for directions. We learned that we were indeed by a fire station, and a new fire station at that, but not the fire station we were supposed to be staying at. Matt said he could arrange a place to stay at the new Station 38, but we insisted we reach our original goal. Unfortunately, our goal was in another city entirely!
We rode another 10 miles. It was dark and cold. Jonathan’s bike light, the only decent one we had at this point, was slowly dying. The traffic was heavy, and although the roads were bike friendly, they were small and hard to see at night. We continued on. Finally, in a moment of frustration, Jon called his brother and asked him to check our location on GPS. It was confirmed, we were merely 3.3 miles away from our destination and were headed in the right direction. This meant, we would not have to give up and settle on a dingy Motel 6 for the night!
About a mile up the road, we noticed a fire engine parked in the gravel on the side of the road. We wondered if it belonged to the station we were visiting, possibly out looking for us. We crossed the street to introduce ourselves, and sure enough, these were our gracious hosts!
What a fantastic bunch of fun people. We learned that one of the fire fighters had seen two bikers on the road, and although he felt both riders looked very male, had wondered if perhaps one of the men was a very manly female. He should have trusted his initial instinct, as both were male, and were quite humbled when the firemen randomly (and very comically) offered them soft beds and a hot meal back at the station.
The Firehouse Welcome: A Home Away From Home
We finally made it to Station 35 and the hospitality was overwhelming. We shared delicious meals, stories, and laughter, making us feel like part of the family. The day that started with challenges ended in the best possible way, surrounded by new friends and comfort.
Tomorrow, we embark on the next leg of our journey, starting with some shopping in Tucson and then south. Our destination? Unknown, but that’s a tale for another day. For now, it’s 12:15 a.m., and warm beds beckon. Time to rest our exhausted bodies and minds for the adventures ahead!
