The Harley Davidson Touring Blog

March 21
As we vigorously addressed yet another massive American breakfast, we decided the Shilo Inn was an excellent hotel. By now we were becoming experts at using the waffle-irons so beloved of motels in the country and as we poured tangy maple syrup over the hot waffles, I realised you just could not eat like this everyday. Having said that, there did appear to be plenty of evidence around us of people who thought quite differently...
Today, we were heading into the desert proper and making our way to Barstow through the Joshua Tree National Park. Although the sun was already hot, I had to wipe quite a lot of condensation from the bike so I presume the night had been chilly. Feeling warm, we headed west along 10 through phalanxes of hundreds of wind turbines which lined the area for about 10 miles. The road was straight and we followed it without event until we came to the turning for the Park on 62. To the English ear, a "park" is somewhere with a bit of grass, perhaps a lake with ducks and a twee little shop selling teas and buns. This park is somewhat different on the basis it covers nearly 800,000 acres, has two mountain ranges and is located in two deserts, the Colorado and Mojave...I didn't see any tea shops either. Despite being desert, we started a slow climb through Yucca Valley before arriving at the park entrance. There was a queue to pay at the entrance booth but for some reason, a rather large uniformed lady just waved us ahead of the line of cars and into the park and off we went. H did reflect later that perhaps we were supposed to stop and pay. However, by then we were ten miles downrange and not hearing the sound of tracker dogs , helicopters or warning shots, we decided to just carry on.
In Europe, we call the indiginous plants Yuccas but here they are named Joshua Trees on account, it is said, of early Mormon settlers who described them as looking like Joshua raising his arms to heaven. They will only grow in exactly the correct conditions and this leads to a perceptible definition of where they start and finish populating. As you approach the park, no Joshua trees and then, in the space of 200 metres, "Shazam", a lot of Joshua trees! The same phenomenom is apparent as you leave. The Park is located in the Mojave desert and apart from the trees, the next "wow" factor is the large boulder formations scattered around. Unless you have studied how these boulders are formed (where it is explained that water and wind erosion are the main causes of formation), it looks as though someone has been engaged in a major project to balance massive boulders on top of each other for no reason other than it looks quite cool. Despite the precarious look of the formations, there were quite a few groups climbing the higher rocks with all the specialist tackle. The official guides advise that the park is teeming with wildlife but on the couple of occassions we stopped and I walked 100 metres or so away from the road, I was surprised at the quietness and solitude. No bird noise or wind rushing. Just a heavy stillness. H, reading from a pamphlet, advised me that there were at least fourteen types of poisoness snake to be found in the area, particularly hiding in scrub bushes. He told me this as I was relieving myself behind a rock, just next to a scrub bush.
Passing more echelons of waving bikers, we exited Joshua tree after a three hour visit and picked up the Barstow Road for the remaining 100 miles or so. Now, we really were in the desert. A good road indeed but nothing either side apart from sand and maybe an entrance to a far flung ranch. The ranch entrances were quite dramatic affairs ranging from a couple of wooden posts with a rail strung across to large brick built affairs. All had sun-bleached Head n' Horns of long dead steers dangling underneath in the wind. No matter how ornate the entrance, the attached fences only ran for about 50 metres on both sides before returning to the sand and small boulders of the desert.
By now, it really was hot and we stopped only to drink water. Maybe two cars every ten minutes passed in the other direction so we couldn't say we were really on our own but even so, not the place to have a breakdown..especially I would think, at night.
An hour and twenty minutes saw us approaching Barstow at 4pm, which was an earlier arrival than most of our destinations but this was due to the fact that we were hot and needed to get out of the desert. After the bustle of San Diego and the charm of Palm Springs, Barstow was different. We found our Best Western - right next to the Union Pacific railroad and realised pretty quickly that this town was weary. Once a favourite stopover on Route 66 for gamblers going to(and coming from)Vegas, it was now a bit run down. Not as dramatically as some of the towns on the Mother Road but definitely now suffering even more from the recession and not helped much by vagrants coming off the railroad box cars and making temporary homes in the goods yards and ruined buildings. The biggest disappointment of all however, was that the bloody hotel was dry!