Desert Rain Storm

Rain pelts down on my back, arms, face, stomach - stinging fiercely, making the bees that I was worried about earlier appear a joke. I'm still wearing just a sports bra and pants from moments ago when it was 108 degrees and sunny. Now we are back on the bikes, racing to get off the high desert to find refuge at lower elevations that are nestled by the mountains.

This morning, I woke up at our campsite at 4,200 feet in Joshua Tree National Park's section of the Mojave Desert. It's 'monsoon season' here and we're eager to see a storm in the desert. I woke up at 5am just as the first rays of light were peaking out from the mountains across the valley. Instead of my usual roll over to catch some more shut eye, I jumped out of the tent to sit on the rock; eager to absorb as much of this beauty as possible.

Around 8am, Gordon and i were finally packed and off to explore past the campsite. Our first stop was only a few miles down the road at a large granite boulder garden. The granite boulders that were pushed up from the earth's core, have been weathered extensively by wind and water. Some have large cracks running through them, and when I tap on them they emit a startling hollow sound.

We bouldered, basked in the sun, and delighted in the silence. It was so quite that every small sound was audible. Ravens circled above and cawed out their mouthy calls. The wind rustled, approached, swirled around us, and then ducked off further towards the rocks. Dry seed pods still attached to their mother plants crackled about with the wind. Insects buzzed between flowers.

After our break, I returned to my bike to find honey bees coating my water bottles. I had filled the bottles to the brim, and there was still a few drops of water in the bottles' screw tops that was sheltered from evaporation. In such a dry climate, the bees were happy to get at least a little water. I have still never been stung by a bee and so we waited for a while, Gordon moved my bike and stood the water bottle s upright, and then finally after some more exploring, enough bees had left that I braved the task of running the bike and water bottles out of their range.

We continued biking and we stopped for lunch. We listened to frighteningly huge rolls of thunder from a storm cell far in the distance. We discussed how it would be magical to be caught in a thunderstorm in the high desert.

At a stop at skull rock, we left the bikes to scramble up some rocks. This section of road would finally be all downhill - a few thousand feet to the town of 29 Palms. I put on lip flops to walk up to the boulders. I was feeling exhausted. I had stayed up late and woken up early, and was finally feeling the effects of the heat. Nonetheless, I was still eager to explore the rocks.

Up on the rocks, we heard a clap of thunder right above our heads. This was another cell coming at us from the northeast. I hurried us out of the rock maze and back to the bikes.

We decided it would be safer to descend in elevation than to wait out the storm in a rock shelter. Hurriedly, we got back on bike shoes and helmets and began our descent. The rain came, whipped up by forceful gusts of wind. Lightning strikes on the mountains were frequent and flashed bright like a streak of burning magnesium. The road turned into a bit of a river with an inch or two of water. A frothy white slick layered the road where grime was washing off.

At a few points, we had to stop, as the wind was too forceful, and the rain too painful. At one stop, I couldn't even look down to see how Gordon was, as I had to pause for a minute or two to shelter my face from the pelting rain. I put on my florescent bike jacket, and even tie a handkerchief around my neck to get added protection from the rain. I am thankful for the visibility of the florescent yellow jacket as other cars drive by in the rain, giving us plenty of room to continue our bike.

The bike jacket was hardly warm enough in the suddenly freezing wind and rain. Temperature had probably dropped 20 or 30 degrees. I was shivering, but hardly noticed the cold as I delighted in all of the other new sensory experiences.

Sometimes seeing was difficult. For much of the descent, I left on the sunglasses to protect my eyes from the rain, but they too become wet with drops of rain, and add a dark tint to the already dark sky, further inhibiting my vision.

The bike brakes hardly worked. A one point, I needed about 400 feet to come to a full stop. Further down the mountain, as several cars passed, I thought it might be wise to again check my brakes. I pulled back on the brakes as hard as possible, and they did nothing to stop my descent. I was cruising through a few inches of water, downhill, at 22mph. I felt entirely in control of the bike, and the speed seemed very manageable, but I did wonder what I would do if I did need to stop.

But, it was all worth it for so many reasons. Experiencing the power of the storm gave me insight into ancient beliefs and stories about rain and thunder gods. About the awe of experiencing nature's power and feeling small and impressed. I felt very privileged to have this experience.

Above all else, the one thing I will always remember was the smell of the desert during the rain. Once the rain started, I could almost sense the plants opening up all of their pores and roots and sucking up as much water as possible; awakening to the life-giving rain. The rain brought a sweet smell. Imagine the smell if a botanical store occupied an entire park. I breathed deeply through my nose, trying to etch the sweet earthy and plant smell into my memory. Later we learned that most of the aroma comes from the creosote bush.

At the bottom of the mountain, we came out of the rain storm and reached the ranger station at 29 Palms. Our soaking wet clothes quickly became again dry in the returning heat of the desert.