Out into the Mojave
This is my first post about why I'm riding and why donating to Water Life Hope will triple your fan base.
We started at Anita Holmes' house in Apple Valley. Anita is the last Warm Showers Host when you're about to cross the Mojave Desert, and the first when you emerge from it. Both Anita and her faithful canine pal, Archie, serve this gateway mission faithfully. We were simply the latest in a series of grateful bikers.
I got going earlier than everyone else and made my way to the closest Episcopal church, St. Timothy's. My expectation of a routine 8 AM service changed when the priest greeted me from the pulpit in mid-sermon. By the time I was headed out a parishioner pressed a cash donation in my hand and a group of them were waving goodbye as we made our way back to Bicycle Route 66.
By this time we were really in the desert. Traffic died down, and in Oro Grande we passed the Southern California Logistics Airport, where airplanes go to die. Roadside attractions began to appear. We found Molly Brown's Country Cafe for lunch. While it wasn't vegan paradise they did serve up a black bean burger as part of their "low calorie" plate. All of the food came in heroic quantities, and the wait staff were efficient and refreshingly non-ironic. We'd escaped LA in all kinds of ways.
Carol decided she would opt for the comfort of a Barstow motel, but Steve and I headed into the desert for dispersed camping. We found a spot 6 miles and a world away from town. We camped with a lovely family -- Steve, Noelle and their son. Steve had been in combat in Afghanistan, fought California forest fires, and had developed an impressive array of skills. The other Steve built a campfire and roasted bananas with dark chocolate, best dessert ever. There were hugs all around in the morning when we parted company. Steve gave us a keychain lanyard as a memento of the desert.
Leaving Barstow was euphoric. It's easy to go fast in the thin desert air, and in the morning there's no wind. At points we were going over 20 MPH without much effort at all. I was the first one into the Bagdad Cafe, arriving to see a man in a leather jacket standing unnaturally still and smiling behind the counter. Was he a really good wax display? Then he moved. Turns out he's a guy from Lille, France who was riding motorcycles with his girlfriend from Phoenix. Other European patrons arrived while we were there. The food was not the prime attraction, but the graffiti was good.
Leaving the Bagdad Cafe was definitely not euphoric. The wind appears to rise here every day around 1 or 2 PM, and the last 25 or 30 miles of the ride were into a strengthening headwind. About 12 miles from Ludlow another rider approached us from the east. The bike appeared to be his home, carrying him north in the spring and south in the fall. He advised us that tap water in this part of the desert had arsenic. Our visitor was cheerful and well-prepared for the desert, and we took his advice seriously. We're buying water from here out.
The last 10 miles were on crumbling pavement that rattled our teeth and our knees -- just part of the deal on Bicycle Route 66. Steve and the big yellow bus were easy to spot in truck-choked Ludlow and a welcome sight. He had made arrangements for us -- located charging facilities for Carol, found a salad at the Ludlow Cafe and fixed the balky instant hot water heater that had been purchased especially for the facility-poor circumstances of a place like Ludlow. There is a single hotel in Ludlow with 6 rooms, all filled. We're in the bus tonight.
It turns out we have much to learn about the instant hot water heater. There was some freezing water and some scalding, and the shower tent wanted to migrate. But I did have a shower when I wouldn't have otherwise, and Steve thinks he has a technique that will work tomorrow. This ride continually generates gratitude.
Tomorrow is 70 miles, going to Fenner. Carol's never gone that far, and there's a climb. We'll leave early and hope to beat the wind.
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| A fellow traveler on Route 66 |
March 17: 45 miles, Apple Valley to Barstow
We started at Anita Holmes' house in Apple Valley. Anita is the last Warm Showers Host when you're about to cross the Mojave Desert, and the first when you emerge from it. Both Anita and her faithful canine pal, Archie, serve this gateway mission faithfully. We were simply the latest in a series of grateful bikers.
I got going earlier than everyone else and made my way to the closest Episcopal church, St. Timothy's. My expectation of a routine 8 AM service changed when the priest greeted me from the pulpit in mid-sermon. By the time I was headed out a parishioner pressed a cash donation in my hand and a group of them were waving goodbye as we made our way back to Bicycle Route 66.
By this time we were really in the desert. Traffic died down, and in Oro Grande we passed the Southern California Logistics Airport, where airplanes go to die. Roadside attractions began to appear. We found Molly Brown's Country Cafe for lunch. While it wasn't vegan paradise they did serve up a black bean burger as part of their "low calorie" plate. All of the food came in heroic quantities, and the wait staff were efficient and refreshingly non-ironic. We'd escaped LA in all kinds of ways.
Carol decided she would opt for the comfort of a Barstow motel, but Steve and I headed into the desert for dispersed camping. We found a spot 6 miles and a world away from town. We camped with a lovely family -- Steve, Noelle and their son. Steve had been in combat in Afghanistan, fought California forest fires, and had developed an impressive array of skills. The other Steve built a campfire and roasted bananas with dark chocolate, best dessert ever. There were hugs all around in the morning when we parted company. Steve gave us a keychain lanyard as a memento of the desert.
March 18: 51 miles, Barstow to Ludlow
Leaving Barstow was euphoric. It's easy to go fast in the thin desert air, and in the morning there's no wind. At points we were going over 20 MPH without much effort at all. I was the first one into the Bagdad Cafe, arriving to see a man in a leather jacket standing unnaturally still and smiling behind the counter. Was he a really good wax display? Then he moved. Turns out he's a guy from Lille, France who was riding motorcycles with his girlfriend from Phoenix. Other European patrons arrived while we were there. The food was not the prime attraction, but the graffiti was good.
Leaving the Bagdad Cafe was definitely not euphoric. The wind appears to rise here every day around 1 or 2 PM, and the last 25 or 30 miles of the ride were into a strengthening headwind. About 12 miles from Ludlow another rider approached us from the east. The bike appeared to be his home, carrying him north in the spring and south in the fall. He advised us that tap water in this part of the desert had arsenic. Our visitor was cheerful and well-prepared for the desert, and we took his advice seriously. We're buying water from here out.
The last 10 miles were on crumbling pavement that rattled our teeth and our knees -- just part of the deal on Bicycle Route 66. Steve and the big yellow bus were easy to spot in truck-choked Ludlow and a welcome sight. He had made arrangements for us -- located charging facilities for Carol, found a salad at the Ludlow Cafe and fixed the balky instant hot water heater that had been purchased especially for the facility-poor circumstances of a place like Ludlow. There is a single hotel in Ludlow with 6 rooms, all filled. We're in the bus tonight.
It turns out we have much to learn about the instant hot water heater. There was some freezing water and some scalding, and the shower tent wanted to migrate. But I did have a shower when I wouldn't have otherwise, and Steve thinks he has a technique that will work tomorrow. This ride continually generates gratitude.
Tomorrow is 70 miles, going to Fenner. Carol's never gone that far, and there's a climb. We'll leave early and hope to beat the wind.
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