A thousand-plus miles is going to have to do it. We’ve decided to fold our biking tent and drive home to California. For reader’s of the blog a word of explanation.
The temperature in the California desert had continued to hover just under 100 degrees. That, combined with climbing and descending three thousand feet of elevation, several times, over stage lengths of 60 to 100 miles, just didn’t sound like fun. Then we learned that one of our key stops, Baker, California, no longer had overnight accommodations, which meant bivouacking in the sand. Then we learned that Mike’s had to fly on Sunday, October 17, and we decided to spend two celebratory days in Las Vegas, rent a mini-van and call it a trip.
Both of us admitted that biking California Interstate 15, while legal and just about the only feasible option between Las Vegas and Southern California, held little attraction. Three hundred miles of hot, dry, unpopulated desert, punctuated by hung-over, penniless drivers, overcame our desire to bicycle into one of our own driveways. Case closed!
But if past adventures are any indication, some of the most interesting, and meaningful, effects of exploits like this happen after the panniers have been unpacked and the chamois-glide thrown away. So please stay tuned.