Blown (away) by the desert
Bikepacking through the SoCal deserts
Deserts can be barren or vibrant, lonely or lively, pleasant or harsh, and dull or fascinating. Roads take one only so far into the desert where popular attractions exist. To understand the dichotomy, I took a deeper look by taking the inner trails of the deserts of Southern California. I biked through the Mojave National Preserve, Joshua Tree National Park, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, and Salton Sea. I skipped Death Valley National Park as I had already been there on a previous bicycle tour. Join along, as I immerse myself and discover the true nature of deserts.
Bicycle tour resources
Before we begin, if you are here to plan your own similar bicycle tour, check out Cass Gilbert’s Socal Ramble. I stuck to his route almost entirely, but did it in the opposite direction. My minimalist packing list for the tour can be found here on the sheet named “SoCal Packing”. Read on to learn more about what to expect from the route through a series of short photo-essays.
Tryst with Joshuas
The first park on my journey was the Joshua Tree National park. Although I was expecting to see desert-like sand dunes, the park was no less vegetated than other well-known national parks, but with Joshua trees only. The Joshua trees (pictured above) were first encountered by early Mormon settlers who thought the trees looked like the biblical prophet Joshua and hence called them Joshua trees. According to legend, the settlers used it to guide them westward on their foot journey. I spent a few days biking in the park and the more time I spent among the strange-looking trees, the more I loved them.
Their furry bark crowned by lumps of bristly leaves made them appear like grotesque creatures, swaying gently in the desert winds. But in the early mornings, when a thick layer of bluish-white mist settled atop their canopy, they almost resembled docile humans lifting the mist bed with their arm-shaped branches, patiently waiting for the sun to kiss them and fade the mist away.
In spite of their serenity, they were set on fire by unthinking motorists in the early 1900s to guide visitors. Alarmed by their actions, the area was set aside in 1936 as a National Park. It has pretty much been left undisturbed since then for us to visit and discover the marveling creatures amidst landscapes of sand and large granite rocks.
On the rocks
In a quest for adventure, I avoided paved roads as much as possible on the tour. On my way through some canyons I quickly realized some routes were not for the faint-hearted, especially if one did not have wide tires. Once, I hit upon a road marked as 4-wheel-drive only. The road took me through some of the wildest zig-zag switchbacks and utterly unridable terrain with large boulders. Although I had to walk my bike for long sections of the trails, I thoroughly enjoyed the journey as it lead me deeper into the desert and exposed me to a different, often unseen part of the land. My brake pads however, did not have a good time. The constant slamming of brakes shaved off much of the pads. Fortunately, I made it safely out of the desert, only to stumble upon a strange water body.
The accidental sea
A strange water body welcomed me after exiting the Joshua Tree National Park. There was a thick smell of salt in the air, and my map suggested I was nearing Salton Sea, even though I was nowhere near the coast. The sea had a bizarre history which I got to know later when I visited the marine center nearby.
In 1905, the Lower Colorado River flooded and flowed into the low-lying Salton Basin thus creating the Salton Sea. But don’t let the story fool you to believe Salton Sea is a mere tiny floodplain; spanning more than 800 km², it is larger than Mumbai and San Francisco, combined. The 1905 flood was just the last in a series of floods which kept the sea alive. Today, the Colorado river is tamed with numerous dams making floods unlikely. Consequently, the sea has largely turned into a waste-water and irrigation discharge body. This has increased its salinity, and transformed it into a wasted, smelly place. Its neighboring shores however, continue to be used for agricultural purposes.
A date with dates
The arid and hot climate in the Salton Sea area make it an ideal location to cultivate middle-eastern plants like dates and figs. While biking along the Salton Sea shore, I passed several dried fruit plantations. My favorite though were the date trees pictured above in the distance. The dates were large and juicy, serving as an excellent snack for the ride. At Medjool Date Shakes, I even tried a date milkshake which I cannot recommend enough. Truly delicious! I packed some dates for the ride, which later came in handy to offer to people when I entered a Mad Max kind of a dystopian land.
Thrown into Mad Max
Far in the desert, I pedaled my way slowly into what seemed like an apocalyptic land. But for the intermittent eye-popping artwork lining the streets, the town resembled a post-war remnant. Rows after rows of dilapidated recreational vehicles (RVs) stippled until the horizon with trash occupying the rest of the area. Looking at the junk of washing machines, old electronics, torn automobile tires and metallic waste, I thought I might have come to a landfill, but I was actually in Slab City — a slum-cum-hippie-land.
While I stopped to try to take in all of this, an old man in 6 inch jeans shorts and baggy hoodies walked up to me with heavy boots and ankle weights and said “I used to be a bicycle traveler too!” His name was Bo and after he learnt about my journey, he acted as my unofficial tour guide to Slab City.
Bo took me to a feast organized by a fellow dweller. Once I walked into the venue, I got a more nuanced understanding of the city. Inside the tent, there were people dressed in all sorts of crazy themed costumes like Flintstones, Game of Thrones, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Mad Max. On talking to some people, I quickly realized that their lingo demanded that their sentences end with the word “dude”. With wide smiles, and long braided hair, I felt most, if not all, were hippies. At the serving counter a person offered me a rice-and-lentils stew and asked me to “pay by bliss”. I interacted with a few other people there — who were very welcoming of me — and got to learn more about Slab City.
I gained a deeper appreciation for the things I had and greater respect for those who didn’t.
Built on an abandoned world war 2 military base, the city doesn’t have any amenities which we have grown used to — no water, no sewage, no electricity, and (almost) no network. The dwellers of the city pay no rent for their land; they simply mark an abandoned piece of land with discarded car tires and park their RVs or build a shanty. The city consists of extremely poor homeless people (I met one person who was living on $194 in food stamps per month), as well as not-so-poor people who are sick and tired of their lives in a capitalist society and come in search of a counter-culture hippie community. The city has many artists and artisans including blacksmiths, carpenters, tailors, hairdressers, and also a library.
In spite of the hardships, the people were light-hearted and funny. I met a blacksmith who was making a range of hand tools from scratch and was also fixing broken equipment. He had several shovels on display. I wondered who needed shovels in that city as I hadn’t seen any kind of landscaping activity. He quickly replied, “How else are people going to shit, dude?”, before letting loose with a roaring laugh. As I spent more time there, I became more relaxed. On leaving the city, I reflected on the conversations I had with the people of Slab City. I gained a deeper appreciation for the things I had and greater respect for those who didn’t.
Wash in the sands
No sooner had I left Slab City behind, than I committed a punishing mistake. Charged by my successful journey through the rocky terrain of Joshua Tree National Park just a few days earlier, I was looking for more diverse terrain to bike through.
The sandy landscapes of SoCal valleys presented a perfect bait for me to ride through one of the several dirt canyons. One such canyon was Arroyo Salado. Little did I know that the name actually translated to saline river in Spanish. What I thought to be an off-road dirt route, turned out to be a wash cut by the run-off from the mountains. The wash was made up of soft sand which was challenging to navigate with my thin tires. To make matters worse, it had rained heavily the previous day. As I went upstream on the wash, the riverbed got softer. Beyond a point, my wheels cut straight into the soft sand making it impossible to ride. So I started pushing my bike. The meanders became more and more large, resulting in me having to walk much longer distances to even make tiny displacements.
On many occasions, I ditched my bicycle and walked up the valley to scout for the nearest road. But all I saw was sand mounds (as pictured above). Finally, after hours of pushing my bicycle, at one of the look-out points, I saw headlights of vehicles at a distance. When I saw that, my joy knew no bounds! I quickly pushed my bike up the valley, and eventually reached a road well after sunset. What should have ideally taken me 12 minutes to cover 2 miles, took over 4 hours instead. I was completely exhausted by the end and set camp at the nearest primitive campground. At night, before going to bed, I felt thankful to nature for not punishing my ignorance more severely and vowed to learn basic Spanish.
Fueled by comida mexicana
On the flip side, one thing which did not go wrong was the ample availability of cheap Mexican restaurants in SoCal. I don’t know what it is with Mexican food but my craving for it goes up enormously after a tough work out. Its crunchiness, saltiness, and the way it satiates my hunger is pretty much second to none. During my tour, I tried to have lunch at Taquerias if I was passing through a town. It helped break the monotony of the morning oats and evening bland pasta. It was comforting to receive such good food when I craved for it. Other bodily comforts, though, went unmet.
Removed from my body
During bicycle tours, inevitably, situations arise when I am put into discomfort. It could be due to cold weather that turn my fingers and toes numb, or worse, cold rain, that makes me shiver violently. It could also be due to my lack of appropriate gear such as knee warmers, water-proof jacket, and so on. Although I could theoretically get these stuff (and more) and be better prepared, I find that there is no end to the number of things one could buy to have more comfort. Worse, no matter how much I prepare, discomfort can still creep in.
Over the years, I have found that the best way to deal with such physical discomfort is to disassociate myself from my body. This may sound spiritual, but what I am referring to is purely a materialistic concept. I find that focusing on the discomfort keeps me from truly enjoying my journey. And when I focus too much on the discomfort, it just throws off my mood. Rather, I try to disconnect my mind from my body and not get too irked by situations like cold, hunger, etc., especially when they are not under my control. This proved to be very helpful on one afternoon when cold rain poured heavily during a windstorm and there was no shade to wait it out.
Listen to your body, but ignore the discomfort.
A word of caution- if you consider yourself very strong mentally, then do not push yourself to a point where your body is harmed. The above principle works for discomfort only, not for injury. For the latter, I listen to my body, as I described in the takeaways from my half-iron man.
No gear, no fear
Most of my bicycle tours until now have been solo. But this time, my friend Dev agreed to join me, and I loved his company! Since it was his first bicycle tour, I was quite excited for him. Besides, he was pretty much like me when it came to spending money- stingy as hell!
To me, Dev was an idol figure for someone who was just trying out a new hobby. Rather than spending loads of money buying gear which could go to waste after just 1 try, he employed a jugaad approach for the entire tour. He bought a bike off craigslist for just $100 ($25 cheaper than mine), and sold it right after the trip. He did not even bother arranging for pannier bags. Instead, he tied his borrowed-backpack onto the rear rack with a rope and few bungee cords. If you wish to start a new hobby, but are repelled by the huge initial buy-in, be like Dev!
Blown (away) by the desert
On the last leg of our journey, through the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, the reality of deserts became clearer. Although they appeared to be barren at first glance, in reality, I found them to be bountiful with life and resources. Deserts are not deserted, but teeming with life — insects, reptiles, amphibians, birds, and mammals; algae, fungi, cacti, shrubs and trees. All seem to be well adapted to make the most of the limited resources nature provides.
Shaped by wind and water into bizarre patterns, desert landscapes are ever-changing, almost as if they are living beings themselves. The winds are such a strong force in the desert that at times, the best thing for me to do was to surrender and wait them out before continuing my journey. But when the winds died down, the silence in the deserts amplified the strangeness and the wonder of their existence.
Right before I climbed out of the last desert, I stood on the empty road to take a moment to admire it and look back on my journey. The deserts had presented various challenges with harsh terrain and strong winds, but also offered equally rewarding experiences. I had learnt a lot about its captivating flora and fauna, much the same way I had learnt about myself, my abilities, and my good fortune. Once again, as the winds picked up and blew against me, I was blown by the desert. But being silent, beautiful, and inspirational, all at the same time, I was blown away by the desert too.
