First desert crossing

We are biking, no, flying, across the Anzo-Borrego desert at 30mph on 100 pound bicycles, and I cannot wipe this smile off my face as I delight in the speed of travel and the many new sensory experiences of the desert. It is now night and the only noticable indication of time is the slow rotation of the big dipper tracing its path around the north star. The air is completely dry and when we do stop periodically, I notice that my voice is raspy. In the 'cool of the night' heat still radiates overbearingly and temperature settles in at 99 degrees. Winds are from the west and push us steadily across the desert.

The Anza-Borrego is located in southern California and is the state's largest park. It is named after Spanish explorer Juan Bautista de Anza and the Spanish name borrego, or bighorn sheep, which still sparsely populate the park.

Since leaving San Diego, we climbed from sea level to over 4,500 feet. During the slow ascent, we were preocupied with this first desert crossing. It was a frequent conversation topic with locals. We often discussed how much water to bring and how to build a shade structure. We agreed to try crossing in the evening; hoping to take advantage of cooler temperatures.

In the morning, we rode north from our campsite in Cuyamaca state park. We lingered around the lake and took an afternoon nap in the shade. Replenished with newfound energy, we biked the last few miles to Julian and indulged in apple pie which is apparently the local specialty.

Gordon's new bicycle chain was causing problems. Worried that a broken chain could leave us stranded in the desert, we wanted to pick up a new one before crossing the Azno Borrego. At the library in Descanso, I had searched for bike shops in Julian. I found one and called, but the bike shop no longer existed. The phone number however still belonged to the former bike shop owner, Rich. He did not have any chains on hand, but recommended that we ask his friend, Dave at the Pie Company in Julian. So now were were off on a wild goose chase for a chain.

After ordering pie at the Pie Company, we found Dave who was slicing pieces of pie to keep up with the out-the-door line of people. Dave did not have an extra chain either, but immediately volunteered to take the chain off his own bike. We were reassured to have a spare chain and filled with gratitude for Dave's generous gesture.

In Julian, we resupplied with snacks, water and juice. We now had about 15 liters of fluid for both of us. Bikes heavily laden with liquid weight, we finally departed Julian as evening set in.

Leaving Julian, we immediately started down Banner Grade road. In about a 1/2 hour we decended 2,500 verticle feet, winding along switchbacks that hugged the southern side of a narrow valley. Half way down, we stopped to cool down the bikes. Constant breaking had heated up the wheel rims. At the roadside, we noticed a piece of what would have been the largest pinecone that I've ever seen.

Racing down slope, wind streaked by us, and I was happy that it was still bright enough to wear my sunglasses to shield the wind from my eyes.

Breaking out into the straight open road, we began to enter the desert. The road changed to a distinctly black, black top. I wondered if daily temperatures over 100 degrees frequently melted the road just slightly, leaving it with a permanent freshly asphalted look.

Just further east, we again started to descend the rest of the way towards sea level. On one straight downhill, Gordon zoomed ahead at what must have been 50 or 60mph. Nervous about the speed and my ability to control the bike with any cross winds, I breaked some and topped out at 40mph.

Descending yet further into the desert, we made our way down a windy section of road that looped between the mountains. The sun was going down and the shadows growing long. The canyon was dimly lit; vermillion dirt and cactus green hills reaching up from the road. In any other such environment, I would expect cool air to greet my descent. Instead, I was surprized to be met by an indistinguishable airid desert heat. Even with the reassurance of 15 liters of water, I found myself thinking about water and and about the desire to drink. Dissapointinly, whenever we did stop for a drink, our waterbottles were heated to a tepid warm, far from refreshing but hugely replenishing and life-giving.

Now out in the open Anzo Barrego, the mountains slipped off behind us into the distance. A steady 20mph tailwind pushed us across the desert. We pedaled in a surreal world of semi-dark. The road illuminated by our headlamps, the stars illuminating dusky grey shadows of cactus and plants. Golden orange of the set sun lingered over the hills behind us in the west.

We had planned to camp for a night in the desert, but with favorable conditions, we biked late until reaching the Salton Sea at the most eastern point of the desert. Several hours passed by seeming only like minutes as we delighted in our 30mph race across the desert. Finally around 10:30pm, we reached the first stop sign of our desert crossing indicating a successful completion and our arrival at route 86; our path north along the western side of the Salton Sea.