From the artificial to the authentic, we rode out from a city characterized by falsely green lawns and surgically plastic faces into a desert whose beauty stands on its own.
Heading to the barren Yucca Valley, we dusted Palm Springs. Relieved to be surrounded by reality, we rode warm toward Pioneertown. A touristy entity, centered on "famous" Pappy and Harriet's bar (love the name) we were slightly comforted that everything was closed. Devoid of other tourists, we wandered through the ersatz Old West village freely, having a hoot posing in faux jails and outhouses. So much for the genuine!
As we passed washed out gullies and impassable roads, our decision to wait out the weather in San Diego was reaffirmed. Rain in the desert is an ordeal for any traveler, but on the bike, it could become dangerous.
We are summer bikers. The desert has always been unapproachable - hot, barren, an obstacle rather than an urge. So today we won the lottery of a lifetime and the grand prize was free riding Joshua Tree National Park in the winter. This park, these trees, this desert, flowering everywhere, immediately consumed us as we bucked the wind and embraced the primeval atmosphere. As a cliché, deserts are characterized as solitary, unproductive and sterile, but the abundance of plants, birds and mystical Joshua trees broke any of our misconceptions.
Through Lost Horse Valley to Keep View, we stopped to view the Coachella Valley. Los Angeles, Palm Springs and other metropoli suck water from ground springs and canals in this gorge that quench their thirst. Again, water pushes to the front of the geological discussion. How much? How long? Who benefits?
And then the Joshua. Legions of these enigmatic trees surrounded us. Humbled to be in the presence of plants that grow only in a confined section of the Southwest US, we gloried in their eccentricity. Ancient and stable, the mystery of their existence hallowed our ride through their home.
Rocks began to burst from the ground in static firework displays. The dynamic change in view fed us anew on each turn and we were electrified. Strong winds intensified our experience and finding a warm, secluded rock sheltered swatch of ground to open our wine, we melted into our surroundings.
"Look where we are" whispered from us simultaneously. Said so often, each new high point in our travels evokes these words. Gypsies by heart, the wonders yet to see push us on. We want no climax because who could wish for the denouement!
Changes occurred abruptly as we headed out after lunch. The Joshua Tree "forest" disappeared and huge boulders and fantastically formed pillars erupted from the landscape. Sculpted by weather and time, their presence guided us into the afternoon. Still in leather, we began to cook in the desert sun.
Indio, CA was our oasis. We shucked our chaps and wallowed in the air conditioning of our small motel, home for the night.
Finally, I understand the desert. As we rode, I pictured numerous dead cowboy actors crawling across the terrain, savoring their last drop of canteen water. Hollywood dropped the ball on this one. There is an overwhelming virtue in this ecosystem, in its life and history. Mystically gripping, we were entrapped forever by the aura surrounding this ride and the intrinsic beauty of Joshua Tree.
Just don't put me here in July!
Will Berry
Buckboard Betsy
On a steel horse he rides!
