Needles, California — Day 5

Odometer: 556–896 (340) miles

Listen to: “Jenny” — The Mountain Goats

I was a speck of blue on a ribbon of black in the midst of miles of rocks and sand today, and it was perfect. The Mojave is one gigantic reality check. There’s something about being out in the desert that reminds you just how ill-equipped we are to understand the concept of insignificance. Putting yourself right in the middle of this vast expanse of nothing is a very tangible reminder that our own species’ existence on earth is only a small fraction of the time that the rocks and sand you’re surrounded by have existed. And when your in-helmet headphone batteries are so low you can’t listen to music, all you have is rocks, sand, and thoughts like this.

Of course, that sense of scale and isolation has its drawbacks, which I’ll be getting to later.

The day started with an incredible ride out of Los Angeles. I went through the twists and turns of the Angeles National Forest to get out of the city and into the desert, and it was just stunning. Riding up mountains, through switchbacks, every so often I’d glance to my right and see all of LA sprawled out in front of me. It was a perfect goodbye.

Emerging out from the mountains, I immediately saw more yucca trees than I thought could possibly exist. Just miles and miles of yucca trees. It was like someone went overboard with the clone tool in Photoshop but over the landscape itself. As I was stopping to take photos of this surreal place, my helmet fell to the ground. When I picked it up, I couldn’t open the visor without it popping off. This was the first casualty of the trip, so we’ll mourn the loss of the plastic tab that fell off and broke it.

Thankfully, the next town I went to had a Cycle Gear, and the guy at the store repaired it in 10 minutes. By the Cycle Gear was a Salvadorean place, and the food was pretty much perfect. I have very few regrets about that minor helmet breakage. After lunch, it was back to the desert.

From there, I went down to 27 Palms. I couldn’t tell how many palms there were, but I’d say it *had* to be more than 27. At least 55. Maybe more. This was my last chance to refuel for 100 miles, so I made sure to fill up the Vespa, check the backup fuel, and buy some delicious, delicious Red Vines.

A quick aside: There is no better road trip snack than Red Vines. They were created by the gods as the ideal food for traveling rapidly across America in some sort of vehicle. They were divinely handed down to us in the same way Prometheus gave fire to the Greeks.

Anyway.

After that was 100 miles of nothing, 100 miles of dirt and sand and rocks and mountains at 60 miles per hour. I stopped at an abandoned house to take some photos, because when you’re in the desert, that’s just what you do. Abandoned structures litter the landscape as if someone thought they could live out there and then packed it up, realizing what a huge mistake they’d made and letting whatever they had built slowly fall apart in the heat and wind.

The sun set on me right as I had gotten about halfway between the start of this long stretch of desert and the gas station that was promised to be at the end of it. I pulled over to take sunset, photos, but realized I had pulled into a soft shoulder. The Vespa’s tires spun, and for a second, I thought I was stuck. With some effort, I was able to get back on the road and moving again. A minor issue, but at least I’ve learned to stay away from soft shoulders.

Each mountain I passed had a blinking light on its slope, directed out towards the road. When I crossed the last blinking light, I came to the gas station that marked the end of this long, empty stretch. As I pulled in, I noticed all the pumps were for 87 octane gas, where my Vespa is only supposed to take 91. This wasn’t that huge of a problem, as I thought I could just mix whatever gas they had with a combination of the gas in the tank, and my emergency fuel I kept on the front rack. That’d probably be fine, and I’d hear no objections from the Vespa’s engine.

Except: none of the pumps would take my credit card. There were no attendants. And after swiping the card, the pump would lock, and not allow me to swipe another one. After I tried two pumps, and another car had locked the other two, I realized I had a run out of pumps that would accept a swipe. The next gas station on my route was 50 miles away, and I didn’t have nearly enough gas to get there. There was another gas station 20 miles away, and I thought I might have enough gas to make it there, but it’d involve a 45 minute delay, and it was already getting late. Thankfully, just as I realized I might be able to make it to the station off the route, a woman pulled up next to me and asked me what was going on with the pumps. I explained, and she told me she had some extra gas in her car she could give me. I took maybe two-thirds of a gallon, and thanked her profusely.

This seemed like it’d be more than enough to get to Needles, where I was staying that night. Still, I was a bit nervous. As I drove, I alternated between looking at my gas gauge, and up at the night sky. Dear lord there were so many stars. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen that many stars in my life. I could see satellites go by without even trying to look for them. If the desert during the day inspires a feeling of insignificance, the desert at night does so on a much larger scale.

Needles became visible as I wound my way down a hill; I could see its lights maybe 20 minutes before I arrived. My eyes darted between the city lights and my gas gauge, and I knew I’d make it there with gas to spare. I coasted down the hill into the city, took Route 66 up to my hotel, and unloaded the Vespa.

Today will be exciting too, but hopefully in a more planned-for way: I booked a tent near the Grand Canyon on AirBnB and will be sleeping outdoors tonight. Apparently you can book tents on AirBnB, if, like me, you can’t fit camping gear on the back of your tiny little scooter.

Thanks for all the emails! I’m gonna be going through them soon and responding, but in the meantime, feel free to shoot me any questions or thoughts or feedback or anything. I love hearing from y’all, especially as I make my way through the part of this trip where I don’t really know anyone.

Till tomorrow,

-Esten