For various reasons (pandemic restrictions or winter weather), many of you are not able to get out to ride right now. I was fortunate to be able to take a trip this past month to the deserts of Southeast California. Hoping we will all be able to get out and ride again soon.

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One entire day of driving gains us twenty minutes of daylight with the sun rising a half hour earlier. In Pioneertown, a town built as a living film set, we plan to leave my van at Brian’s friend’s ranch. It’s dark by the time we arrive.

Asphalt roads Sunday to start our ride, twisting through the San Bernadino mountains. I can feel the extra load of my luggage as I lean in the corners. Snow frames the road near the top. 6200′ is chilly. Get gas in Anza, then air down for the dirt.

Lunch by a cluster of granite rocks where I find a metal scrap to wire to Effie’s exhaust. Make some space so her plastics won’t melt under saddle bag weight. Ride through Cleveland NF to reach Anza Borrego. A line of trailers haul toys home. We head down Old Culp Valley road, through the cultural preserve. The sun will go down soon, so we have to settle for camping at 4100’.

Snuggled into my sleeping bag by 6:30, I brace for the 20 degree night.

Monday I’m woken by birds, I think, announcing the sunrise at 7am. Ride down to Highway 78. Turn off for a hike to The Slot. Brian can barely squeeze through some spots.

Wedged above is a fallen rock. A collection of cairns at the end of our walk.

When the sun hits the sand at the same angle as your sight, it’s hard to see as the sand glares bright. Ocotillo Wells has deep sand. Effie and I take a tumble. To get her up I need an extra hand.

Eventually the trail gets more firm, twisting and undulating towards the Pumpkin Patch, a field of orb-shaped calcifications, fenced in to prevent them from being snatched.

It’s not fun riding west squinting into the setting sun. We camp at the oasis 17 Palms. Some fan palms are pruned. The bushy ones emit various bird songs. It’s warm. I’ll sleep well tonight, my arms tired from battling sand.

Tuesday we resupply at Salton City, a sad, small town. Ride, north around the Salton Sea, past a palm tree farm. Skirt a locked gate of the Coachella canal to reach the Bradshaw Trail. The first ten miles, a deep, course sand wash, is rough. Under the railroad trestle, one of the Jeep trio reassures me that solid ground awaits.

Finally I can look up at my surroundings, instead of at the road: mountains in the distance, desert plants of odd shapes, the glow of the dropping sun.

The forty miles to Wiley’s Well goes quickly. Brian sees two foxes passing through at night.

Wednesday morning I test the temperatures, seven to eight degrees difference between inside and outside the tent. The nights are long, fourteen hours of darkness. I have an ebook with me, about the last crossing of the Lusitania. Wednesday’s course is section two of the California Backcountry Discovery Route. It is mostly asphalt and dirt road. The two most interesting rides are detours. The first is when we overshoot the Blythe Intaglios, up a rocky hill so we can viewed them from above. Turns out they are quite small, so we backtrack to see them.

The second detour, a wrong turn after the railroad tracks, up a sandy hill and back, means more sand practice for me. I discover I need to be much more firm with the front wheel when the back kicks out. So the front won’t get knocked off course and start to swerve. At times I wish someone would save me from this sand torture I’ve inflicted on myself, but the only person available is me, so I push on. We camp on soft sand along Skeleton Pass.

Tracks in the distance, we see six trains Thursday morning. Make our way to Route 66 to resupply at the Hi-Sahara. Then a gradual climb into the Mojave Preserve, through a Joshua tree forest.

Find a great lunch spot far into Caruthers Canyon under trees, with a stone table and grill guarded by a gnome. It’s 5300′ and the first time I’ve seen tall trees since we passed through San Bernardino NF on Sunday. 

The Mojave Road is firm but very whoopie. To save my legs, I don’t go too fast.

In the afternoon I tip over. Coming out of a corner, the bank turns to deep sand that grabs my tires, my bike, and eventually me.

The sand isn’t bad in Mojave Preserve. It’s mostly shallow, you can see the tire tread pattern in your tracks. It’s deep sand that I’m not good at. The kind where your track is just a groove because the sand poured back in after your tire moved. I can accelerate through short sections, but deep sand for miles is tough.

Visit a lava tube next. One end is sealed, the other narrows fast. Brian bumps his head. The only light, a shaft from the hole in the ground we passed. Finally to Rainy Day Mine to camp, next to a long lava flow. It’s windy overnight. Gusts shake my tent.

Friday we continue on the Mojave Road. The ride over Soda Dry Lake starts out smooth, then gets rough and loud as dirt bubbles burst. Craters of silt hide under the surface. One trips me. 

White rats scurry along the road. Then the sand turns super soft. This is the easiest so far. The back kicks out much less violently. You sink more, so getting started is harder. With a dramatic roost, I dig a hole for myself trying to get up to higher, more solid ground.

There is some water in the Mojave River in Afton Canyon. One deep, wide section that we bypass across a railroad bridge. Slowly because some ties are missing, leaving large gaps. The space to ride, between the track and a row of large bolts and nuts, is small, narrowing more towards the end. Soon after we cross, a train comes around the bend.

Refuel in Yermo. The rocky trails by Ord Mountain lead us to Johnson Valley, a super whooped-out playground for side by sides. Cross a few deep tracks. Turns out they are soft silt, so not as jarring as one would forecast. A blind hill climb heading towards the sun. I glimpse large ruts, but we make it just fine. The sun drops below the mountains as we get on the asphalt for the final stretch to Alice’s house. My headlight is out. Riding fast in the shade is cold.

Saturday stop to see Pioneertown Mane Street as we start our drive home.

Trip tracks here.