| June 20, 2007 - Phoenix to Santa Barbara (aka "Hell to Heaven!") |
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After refueling and being reminded of essentially where people think I'm from, I hit the I-10 West entrance ramp
just as the sun was appearing and did so while Fleetwood Mac was telling me through my iPod to “Go Your Own
Way.” While I shifted through the bike's gears and just after reaching 6th gear/overdrive, I felt an internal
shift and was simply overcome with emotions. Probably a combination of relief that this rather extensive
adventure is underway, excitement about the journey itself, sadness for recent loss and transitions knowing the place
I will return to in a few months will be very different than the place I am now leaving behind, and most certainly
feeling very grateful to be alive and able to seize the journey. I was glad to have the new morning sun at my
back so the reflection of tears didn't burn my eyes.
It was good to set a strong, steady pace out of the gate, which gave me a chance to settle in mentally and
physically. I believe one of my biggest issues of this adventure is going to be my ability to pace myself
and essentially managing my enthusiasm; essentially “doing” without “overdoing.” Recently I was talking
to the 84 year old family Matriarch about this upcoming adventure. I recall saying something about how I
wanted to do everything, or like the poet Thoreau said “Suck all the marrow out of life!”. Her response to
me was classic: “Yeah, but he didn't say choke on the bone.”
I've written about this station in a previous Journey Report (near top of page:
HERE) but I'm going to
mention it again with hopes the word gets out: KEEP MOVING. Travelers, don't be deceived by that big name
on the sign or that the orange cones are screaming something really important is about to happen. Yes, you
will likely proceed though the gates never seeing anyone in a uniform. PROCEED ANYWAY. You will not
be shot, arrested, or run down... at least not by someone in a uniform. On the other hand, other travelers
who are behind you in the single file lane, might resort to who knows what if you decide not to follow the
instructions on the sign which clearly states “No Inspection Today, Please Proceed” and simply park your car in
the lane waiting for something to happen. In all the years and times I have, um, proceeded, I have never
known the sign to say anything different. They are supposedly “inspecting” vehicles for fruits and plants
but aside from activity over in the far right commercial lane, I've never seen any signs of activity... no one
in handcuffs because they tried to smuggle a banana, no one being read their rights because of an African Violet
was on board. Remember folks, PROCEED onward into the Golden State! Thankfully, I was able to lanesplit
past the moron who parked his car and held up traffic. Hey, it was a legal maneuver since, of course, I was
technically in CA.... maybe by only a few feet but I was indeed in CA!
Speaking of the actual fuel, no explanation for the going rate for a gallon of gas:
Later on while eating lunch, I happened to pull Richard's business card from my riding pants pocket. Check out
the back:
For those who have been following my travels, you are well aware of the National Park Passport Stamp collecting
insanity that I have been experiencing. If you don't know anything about this whole Stamping stuff then I'd
suggest a brief hop HERE to learn about
my quest since basically it's where this whole Alaska idea originated. Since starting the National Park Passport
tour, I have passed by Joshua Tree National Park (NP) countless times during my CA-AZ excursions, but I've never stopped
for the stamp. For whatever reason, today was the day. It wasn't exactly on my itinerary, but then again I
don't exactly have an itinerary; I just kinda wander in a general direction. Having spent most of the last 10,000
miles on backroads, the interstate blast was a definite change and I was relieved to see the NP exit's and welcome the
side road detour. I rolled up to the entrance sign to take a photo w/my bike so I'd have proof I actually visited
the park in case I lose my Passport Stamp book...
...but in over 275 parks I've visited across the country, I can't say that I've ever seen this type of government
issued sign... handwritten, duct taped up, misspelling and all:
Here's a map of the rather extensive park. Note that I-10 is just above the words “Joshua Tree National Park”
You'll notice a few squiggly lines on the map, which offered a few turns for this motorcyclists to
enjoy. However, coming out of one turn I ran wide... VERY wide (very little pavement left)... as in I
thought I might be eating sand for lunch because of something squiggly that what was coming towards me: a
Sidewinder snake!!
Once in the park, I stopped at 3 different Visitor Centers. Here's one of them:
A short view in the immense 800,000 acre park:
A view of the wondrous Joshua Trees:
...and a view from below a Joshua Tree looking straight up:
By the time I left Joshua Tree NP I think the temperature was near 200 degrees. Wow, was I ever thankful
to be wearing my light summer mesh gear! I'm meeting friends from Phoenix this weekend in San Francisco
who are bringing my heavier gear that I'll be wearing to Alaska thus allowing me to depart the desert today
in mesh gear. Crossing the desert in mid-June in heavy gear doesn't sound like much fun. Yuck!
After looping through the park, I came out on CA-62 and rejoined I-10 again just before Palm Springs. As
is typical in that area, it was so windy that if I had been on a sailboat rather than a motorcycle I could have
made the 100 miles to Los Angeles in about 10 minutes! Geez, is that place ever windy! Makes a great
home for 3,000 wind turbines though. The area is referred to as “San Gorgonio Pass”:
While I was standing by the bike outside a Subway in Palm Spring, an older gentleman walking past me looked
down at the Tennessee license plate on my bike and said “Sweet Jesus! Look how far you've come!” I
didn't even have a chance to respond before he proudly proclaimed “Welcome to California, Ma'am!” almost as
if he was surprised someone from redneck country could actually make it “all the way out here on that
motorcycle.” Somehow I was able to keep from laughing hysterically at his assumptions and I just
graciously thanked him for his Golden State welcome rather than say not only was I a full-time CA resident
for most of the last decade but also I've lost track on how many cross country rides I've made on two
wheels. I find other people's assumptions and perceptions to be very intriguing, and at times humorous.
I replaced my long distance riding helmet a few months ago. Even though I did about 2,000 miles in the
helmet before my East Coast 2007 departure, not one single mile was in rain since I don't think it rained one
drop in Arizona this past March. Anywho, I was very pleased with the helmet (Shoei Multitec) while romping
around the East Coast.... until I hit rain.
I did not prefer to leave with a new helmet since mine was already broken in for my liking; I also wasn't interested
in continuing to have water seep inside either. The plan was if they couldn't make adjustments then I'd need to
head north with a new helmet (yuck), but if they could, then I'd test the helmet on my way up to the Pacific “Northwet”
region. If it still failed, I'll receive a replacement before crossing into Canada. While Renee and his guys
worked on the helmet, I waited patiently (ok, so I paced) for the verdict in the air conditioned pow-wow room (a respite
from the previous several hours in the blazing desert sun):
Renee finally returned and announced “I think we fixed it”, which prompted a relieved yelp from me!
Even in my limited experience with Helmet House, I can say these folks certainly have a handle on customer service,
which for me, outranks quality of product. I'd rather deal with a superior company's problem product than have
issues with the reverse. Thanks again, Renee, for the effort! Let's hope it works (or maybe I just won't
hit any rain-ha!).
Feeling relieved my helmet's issue was addressed and recharged from the air conditioning, I was more than ready to
get back on the bike. Since I had made good time through LA (lanesplitting simply ROCKS), I was able to take
another detour before the heaviest rush hour traffic commenced and so I headed for Malibu via the twisty road Decker Canyon:
Windsurfing in Malibu:
I started the day in the blazing desert and I have ended it here in Santa Barbara along the ocean's cool evening
breeze. Nothing like camping on the beach I tell ya! One camper I met who learned I had departed Phoenix
today said “Must feel like going from hell to heaven, huh?”. I have to say I wholeheartedly agree!
The local astronomy club had their equipment setup in the campground parking lot and was encouraging campers to take
a gander at Saturn's rings.
To the very far left is a child in red pajamas. To his left is his brother (“Bradley”), who was being told what
to expect to see once he was lifted up to look through the telescope. Bradley's pronunciation of the letter “R”
sounded like “W”, so the entire campground heard Bradley excitedly proclaiming and repeating “I SAW THE WINGS! I
SAW THE WINGS!” until I think he fell asleep out of exhaustion. After all the energy it's taken me to get this
journey underway, as well as following a day of hard desert riding, I don't think I'm too far behind Bradley!
AGirl
End of day GPS total:
My exact route today:
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The pre-departure for this journey was by far one of the most challenging I've experienced. It
wasn't issues related to the bike or the ride itself, it was the actual conditions in which I was
trying to prepare for this adventure that created the challenge. Two days before leaving, my
neighborhood experienced a power failure. According to what we've been told, a group of bandits
stripped the copper wires surrounding a power substation for the purpose of reselling given the current
value of copper.
This activity is nothing new around the Phoenix area, but my understanding is the thieves have previously
focused more on commercial areas. Nonetheless, being without power in June in the desert presented
a real problem.
Many folks fled to hotels or nearby friends to escape hell, but apparently many others stayed since an
ambulance siren was a frequently heard sound. Since I was a few days aways from departure for a two
month, 11,000+ mile adventure, I had no choice but to endure the inferno. The outside thermometer
said the mercury was 111 degrees while the one inside my garage screamed 117... not exactly ideal conditions
to be preparing a bike, huh?
I've certainly ridden motorcycles all day with my cooling vest on, but I've never worn it just walking
around! It was definitely an odd feeling. Given the lack of electricity I had no web access or
even cell phone reception (cell towers run on electricity). Suffice to say, it's an experience I'd
prefer to never repeat and it certainly reconfirmed my snowbird status (not that I had any doubt), as well
as why I always prefer cold weather to hot: You can get yourself warm but you can not get yourself
cool! Hopefully by the time I return someone let's me know they have caught and castrated the people
responsible for the crime.
This morning I left my garage before the sun woke up in hopes of beating most of the expected inferno that
awaits the non-air conditioned equipped summer traveler on Interstate 10. I typically have the bike
gassed up the night before my departure, but having to deal with the power failure simply zapped my desire
to venture out on the bike to refuel since I knew I wouldn't be returning to any air conditioning. So,
this morning I hit the gas station just before entering the interstate. While pumping the petrol, a
man walking past me exclaimed “Damn, you're from a long way lady!”, which caught me off guard since I had
just left my house. I sarcastically replied “Oh yeah, a very long way indeed” until I realized he
couldn't have known that I had just left my house. It wasn't until he asked me what part of Tennessee
was I from that his previous statement made sense and I remembered that the bike I'm riding is titled & tagged
in my other home state. Oops.
This happens from time to time when I do the “fly and ride” thing and it takes me a while to transition. I
have found that when I'm asked where I've ridden from or where I live that my best reply to avoid confusion is
to respond with the state where the bike I'm riding is tagged. This may make no sense unless you too ride
all over the country on different bikes tagged from different states like I do.
The 125 miles from that exit to the AZ/CA state line always seems to be my transition time when either beginning
or returning from a journey. Posted speed limit is 75mph but the desolation and lack of traffic certainly
affords one a more “spirited” riding pace if so desired. A shot above I-10 looking west:
Let me also add here that I have never had a speeding ticket or even been pulled over for “spirited” riding. Nope,
never. Yes, it dumbfounds my friends given the miles I log and, um, pace I move, but it's true. Big fat
goose egg zero here! WOOT!!
Grandmothers are just too wise I reckon! Speaking of the Matriarch, I think this would be a good time to
repost her photo, thus allowing her friends the opportunity to once again rag her by saying “Your picture is all
over the Internet!”. Although it was taken last fall before my departure on the USA Four Corner tour (for
the full report, click: 
For those who have never crossed into the state of California by road, then I'd like to present this photo so if
you ever do, you're not completely confused like most non-CA drivers are when passing through the “California
Agriculture Station”:
Between Blythe, CA (just after the Inspection-less station) and Indio, CA (just east of Palm Springs) lies the town
of Desert Center. It's certainly not a thriving metropolis like one might imagine and it's darn sure not the
center of anything. In fact, it's called “home” by only 125 people, one of whom I met today when I stopped
for gas. I was greeted enthusiastically by “Richard” who, during the course of my refueling, explained how
content he was living in the isolated desert, managing the station, and enjoying a handyman business. Richard
even pointed out which trailer beyond the station he called home. He remarked how much he enjoyed meeting folks
who passed through and how much better life is “not being in the drug & gang infested cities”. You might guess
he hailed from LA, but actually it was Indiana. His zest for life was obvious and he seemed happier than a pig
in mud living in the nowhereville desert. I was struck by the simplicity in his life and how consciously he
lives it; both hold high rank in my world. I wanted to get a photo of him so I could clearly recall our
conversation and what he unknowingly imparted to me. I relish the gas stops where I leave with a heck of a lot
more than just fuel:
It was kinda crossing and kinda coming up the road; actually I really couldn't tell which way the thing was
going and didn't know what to do. I think I had a momentary vision of it raising up and striking me or
the bike.
I'm not a snake fan AT ALL. I don't know exactly how big it really was but it seemed like a dang fire hose to me!
For more information specifically on the Joshua Tree itself, click:
As the rain came down, so did drops of water from inside the helmet just in front of my face. Yikes! After
contacting the company, I was told the warranty department who could address the situation was located in California
and I could ship my helmet to them. Being on the road, on the other side of the country, and with a new leaky
helmet that is suppose to accompany me to Alaska (and likely LOTS of rain), did not make for an optimal
situation. I contacted the company that handles the helmet's warranty issues
(
WOO-HOO! Before leaving, Renee took me on a tour of the Helmet House facility, which was quite interesting:
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