Fire & Ice
The beauty of planning an annual motorcycle ride in the Southwest in May is that you can usually count on warm and dry weather (it is mostly desert after all) and yet you are out ahead of the summer RV traffic, which can screw up any road trip. The downside of May is that those mountain passes can get pretty cold and wet and occasionally snowy and you are always fighting to keep the schedule far enough away from Memorial Day to keep family conflicts to a minimum. So, this year we are on the road on the 2019 SoCal Ride from May 10th through May 14th. That’s a tad early by most standards.
This morning dawned on our hilltop in northern San Diego with rain clouds in the sky. All the radar weather apps told us it would end early and be reasonably dry on our route for the day. I moved the bikes out of the garage so that we would be set to go, and then went in for some breakfast. By the time I went back outside, the rain had begun. So I wheeled the bikes back into the garage. I checked the radar again and convinced myself again that we would be fine. By the time we had to leave to gather the rest of the crew six miles away at the Tuscany Hills Resort, it was pouring and we just decided to head out and just get wet. It only rained for the six miles and then stopped, but that six miles caused all the normal thoughts to run through my head. They start with, “why do I do this to myself at my age?” Then they shift to “Just grit your teeth and bear it and it will get better soon, you’re tougher than a little rain.” Always good to work out your psyche first thing in the morning.
So, the ride began cold and wet, which is not altogether pleasant, but 50 years of riding has inured me to it. We headed up to Mount Palomar for one of the great motorcycle roads in the state. The experience of dipping in and out of the fog on a twisty mountain road is fun, scary and exciting, all at once. Breaking through into the sun at the top and riding down on dry sunny roads was worth the fog going up.
We headed off into the Anza-Borrego desert headed for Borrego Springs. As happens in the western desert, riding down the road from the high desert to the desert floor is a warming experience with the temperature moving from sixty to eighty degrees. A foody-quality lunch later has us stripping down for the ride out to the Salton Sea and up to Palm Springs (actually La Quinta near Indio and Coachella). By the time we were in this famous mid-century oasis and playground for Angelenos, the temperature was over 90 degrees and we were anxious to get to the pool at our hotel. So, we had traveled from cold and wet to hot and dry and were no worse the wear.
Tomorrow we will go further into the fire with a ride through Joshua Tree, the pure Mojave Desert (there in nothing out there), and through Baker, with its massive thermometer telling all on Rt. 15 just how damn hot it is. For those headed to Vegas (Rt. 15 is the main Vegas artery), this thermometer prepares travelers for passing one of the largest mirror solar generators in the world. It looks like something on Mars and it’s said that any bird dumb enough to fly within 100 yards of the collector gets fricasseed. After Baker, we head directly into the oven of Death Valley. Least you doubt my assessment, we will be staying at the only hotel in Death Valley at what is called Furnace Creek, where the old twenty-mule-team borax wagons came through. This is the Devil’s Anvil of Lawrence of Arabia, the Sahara of Beau Geste and the Tatooine Desert of Star Wars.
I’m not altogether sure why the desert holds so much interest to travelers. It is barren and uncomfortably hot. Some say it is pure and clean, but I don’t see it. I’m sticking with hot and dusty. And why do homes in desert settings like Palm Springs hold so much appeal? I think of flat roofs and dry rot. There are palm trees all over the place even though they are not in the least bit indigenous. Indigenous landscape is about cacti and scrub oak. Tumbleweed comes to mind. I guess sun-worshipers like it out here, but I’m sure most of them have been warned off by their dermatologists. Living in air conditioning is perfectly pleasant until the power goes off, then you’re fucked for sure. Palm Springs ceases to exist the day the power for a/c goes away. Luckily, with improving renewable solar and wind energy, places like Palm Springs may find themselves positioned to flourish in the next phase of energy self-sufficiency.
I think one day every few years as we tour the deserts of California is enough of Palm Springs for me. We will drive out of Death Valley on Monday and head to verdant Ojai, the land of the Age of Aquarius. We will be staying at the Emerald Iguana Inn, which sounds pretty organic to me. My guess is that it’s gluten-free as well. I can get my head around Palm Springs, Death Valley and even Ojai. But the last night of the ride we will stay at Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains. This feels like staying at Mohonk Mountain House outside New York City. It’s kind of a pseudo mountain retreat. Adirondacks or Sequoias Light. Who goes there to vacation although the City was’t a couple miles away. We are going because when you ride SoCal, you need to avoid the LA Freeways at all costs and the mountain roads northeast of the LA basin is unavoidable.
Indeed, the roads up to Angeles Crest and the road down Los Padres National Forrest are all closed due to everything from rock slides to fire damage. California is in infrastructure hell.
Every few years we have to do this SoCal ride to remind us why we prefer riding in Utah. They have more diversity with less extreme conditions…and better roads. We will make the most of it, but remember, fire and ice are not conducive to smooth roads. Who’s idea was this anyway?