I could now see the desert as it opened up to me. Vast stretches of flat areas, punctuated by wind swept hills filled with rocks and low lying shrubs. It wasn�t as pretty as that sounded since all along this area where concentrations of man made structures, powerlines, homes, businesses, warehouses, truck stops, railroad stations, you name it. The infrastructure of commerce showed itself loud and clear in this part of the Mojave. I passed the town of Victorville where Route 66 went by the city, along with a few other roads. Route 66 used to be the only paved road from Chicago to Los Angeles. Now it�s a historic road, maintained by the government for tourism�s sake. Several songs and a movie or TV series or two made Route 66 an eternal vision in many people�s minds. Thus, many still take the route for fun and nostalgia. One of these days, I will go through Route 66.
I was glad to have left Victorville behind me as I kept going deeper into the desert. Next up was Barstow. Up ahead, the concentrations of structures and communities dwindled down so that I could look far ahead and see nothing but barren land. Stoddard Valley as it�s called went out into the distance, scattered around it where tall hills with rocks jutting out near their peaks. These hills were called ridges. Sometimes if the ridge was big enough it would be called a mountain. Fairview Mtn. was one of them. So was Sidewinder Mtn. I passed by giant electrical towers carrying their precious cargo of electricity on huge cables. I looked passed the nearby towers as I road underneath them and I could see there were hundreds of them going off into the distance to some faraway powerplant. Out in front was just the Interstate as it too disappeared into the vast expanse of Stoddard Valley. I was amazed at how seemingly hostile and barren this desert was. It could have been in Afghanistan or Mongolia. The only difference being this desert has been tamed by humans. I mean, there I was cruising at 90 mph across one of the most hostile deserts of the world, yet fuel, food, places to bed for the night, etc., were no farther than the next town. I had it easy. I could imagine how daunting this desert must have been to the Catholic Missions, Spanish Conquistadores, and the American Pioneers when it came time for them to cross it!
As I neared Barstow, my hands had already gone numb. So did my feet. My nose was frozen enough so I couldn�t feel it running and I couldn�t control the running either. My body had lost its battle to keep my extremities warm and was now struggling to keep my core temperature within normal levels. It was a loosing struggle. I then realized that my winter riding outfit that worked so well for an hour, became nearly useless under continued exposure to wind and cold beyond that. When I saw the clump of structures in the distance, which was Barstow, I breathed a sigh of relief, fogging up my visor but putting a smile on my face.
I pulled into Barstow to another Chevron gas station to fuel up and get warm. Chevron must have majority holdings in California land because they�re everywhere at home and out here! I pulled up to a gas pump and I had to slowly get off the bike. I couldn�t feel my legs! As I was gassing up, a Harley Davidson rider pulled up to the pump next to me. Its rider had a leather jacket and chaps, plus every conceivable layer underneath them. His nose and cheeks where red from the cold. Steam came out of his mouth as he breathed a sigh of relief too. We looked at each other and laughed. We talked for a bit. He wanted to know if my Joe Rocket jacket kept me warm �cause it sure looked like it. He also wanted to know if my Busa�s fairing kept the wind off. My answers where yes to both but only up to a point. After spending hours in the unrelenting wind and cold temperatures, nothing can keep the body warm except an active device of some sort like an electric jacket and pant liner. Ask BMW. They supply their bikes with a 12V plug just for hooking electric jacket liners!
After gassing up, I got a very hot cup of chocolate at the station�s mini mart. The cashier joked about how cold it was. He could tell I was miserable. Ha-ha very funny! It felt good holding on to that hot cup of cocoa!
Back on I15, I continued on heading deeper into the Mojave Desert. Next stop was Baker, about 60 miles away. This was to be the longest leg of the trip between stops. 60 miles doesn�t seem that far and it isn�t. However, the extreme cold was taking a big toll on my body. Quite frankly, I wasn�t sure if I could hold out that long. That notion got stronger as it didn�t take long before my warmed up hands and feet started to go numb again. And now there was an added level of misery in the form of nasal congestion. I could hear myself struggling to breathe through my nose, and my throat started to hurt. I tried to ignore the discomfort and sang to myself. It worked for a while. I passed by Calico Ghost town�an old mining town abandoned after the Gold Rush, then restored as a tourist attraction. The original structures still stand to this day and tourists from all over the country and the world flock to see a moment in US Western history. After Calico, the desert seemed to get even more desolate as large, limitless expanses with ridges and mountains made of rock in the distance was all I could see. Occasionally, a light colored patch of flat area would come in to view. These were dry lakes, which this place had many of. This view went on and on. It was really quite beautiful, like something out of a National Geographic photo. However, I was struggling to keep going. I was counting mileage in 2 or 3 mile increments to my next stop. That next stop meant relief from the cold. It was hard for me to imagine this place during the summer. It was so cold, yet I knew during summer the temperatures here went to triple digits on a daily basis.
As I crested a rise I saw a small clump of civilization in the middle of this barren land. Baker! Roads went off from the town, going out into the distance. Without even thinking, the words �Thank God� came out of my frozen mouth. I pulled into Baker and found ANOTHER Chevron gas station. My monopoly theory was starting to make sense. Or maybe it was my head suffering from brain freeze? I gassed up and went inside for another cop of hot chocolate. The girl at the cashier looked at me funny and didn�t even smile. I went in to use the restroom and had a chance to look at the mirror. Yikes! I had snot running down my upper lip and I generally looked like shit! I washed up and fixed myself up as best I could before going back out in public view.
After finishing my hot cocoa and bringing some semblance of feelings back to my hands, I called the wife to let her know I�m cold but still in one piece. That�s what she likes to hear--one piece. She mentioned to me to look around Baker for the World�s Largest Thermometer, which her coworkers were coaching to her over the background. I looked and there it was�a big 20 foot tall thing with lighted numbers on a vertical scale. I rode up to it and took pictures. The temperature read 47 degrees! 47 degrees and I�m in the middle of the Mojave Desert at 11AM!
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