Never know what you come across during a ride.

AFTER riding thru sand washes, rocks, boulders, eroded downhill rutted tracks, and dry creek beds, the City of greater Phoenix reaches far and wide into what, not that long ago, was the exclusive domain of rattlers, scorpions, Saguaro cactus and mesquite bushes.

Heavy winter rains, including several downpours during my latest visit, had created temporary lakes in what would otherwise be simply an old gravel pit or depression in the desert. These small water holes are quickly turned into welcome habitat for marsh ducks and other waterfowl.

By mid summer, they will all be long gone...

Having overflown an area of many square miles in the Challenger's front cockpit, I spotted amongst other anomalies, what appeared to be a series of trails and a race course. Once on the ground and back on the DR... I headed on the general direction hoping to find some of the sights I'd observed from the air. After several dead ends, I came across a stock car oval and MX track, where several riders were practising what the following day would be a full fledged "endurance" MX race.

Utilizing the race track and the surrounding desert, riders would battle for what amounts to little honor but major satisfaction only found from pitting yourself, your talents and your machine against not only the next competitor... but the terrain. In this case, Race Day would be further complicated by all day unseasonal steady and at times, heavy rains.

Wandering around the race course, brings back many memories of my own racing days. YZ Yamaha's, Kawasaki KX's and others including CR's RM, Huskies, Can Ams and more. Even though I am well beyond those days, my palms still sweat and my pulse races whenever I am around racing machinery.

It's kind of a shame really... even out here at an MX track, it's pretty much all four strokes now. Hardly the happy wail of a stroker to be heard. The US has been moving to limit two stroke use off road for several years now.

I miss the snappy response and the quick revving zing zing of those old, light weight, easy to maintain race bikes. To say nothing of their superior starting ability if you fell over! They are almost a thing of the past.

I wanted to take my DR out on the course, rev the guts out of it and launch it off the jumps! Rules and discretion dictated otherwise. I would be content to watch and ride my little Doctor around in the open desert, after all... who knows how long that will last before it's legislated away.

Arizona has enacted laws now, that requires permits and equipment to ride out there. It won't be that much longer even that will be limited. Then what? Back to Baja me thinks...

For now, I am happy puttering along, checking out what's around the next wash or bend. Trying not to crash, enjoying the solitude that only the deserts of the planet provide, devoid of the trappings and sprawl of civilizations... maybe going for the odd flight in an Ultra light, looking for the elusive trail that will lead me to my own "Eldorado"

Take care all.

Ahhh Yes, riding the desert.

des·ert [dézzərt](plural des·erts)
noun 1.
dry area: an area of land, usually in very hot climates, that consists only of sand, gravel, or rock with little or no vegetation, no permanent bodies of water, and erratic rainfall
2.
deprived place: a place or situation that is devoid of some desirable thing or overwhelmed by an undesirable thing
a cultural desert
3.
lifeless place: a place devoid of life
[12th century. Via French désert <>

Barstow to Vegas!

Hare Scrambles, big Triumph desert sleds, Bud Ekins, Steve McQueen and Eddie Mulder*...

I grew up on this stuff. Since my first encounter with the Mojave (summer 1967) in an old Pontiac station wagon with 2 other boys and a couple driving us to Disneyland, I have been in awe of the desert. I read about the Sahara, the Gobi, the Mojave. Scorpions, diamondbacks, Gila monsters... and motorcycles.

What is it about the desert? The lack of rain? The desolation? The extremes of weather, frying in a pan during the daytime, freezing your cajones off at night? Whatever it is, I'm attracted to it.

My first chance to ride in the desert regions of the southwestern USA came in the winter of 1998. Then girlfriend Deb and I, were on our way to Baja California via Phoenix Arizona. We had 2 Yamaha XT600A models, the only year for this bike in Canada. I'd recently bought a propane powered Dodge van to cart us, the bikes and the gear, south in January. We were in the grip of a freezing cold Alberta winter, we had 6 weeks off from our jobs, she at MEC, me at Bow Cycle.

My daughter Holly, gave us the reason for the trip (like I needed one). A friend of hers had parents that were recently moved to Cabo, we were going to deliver, as the Pony Express had a hundred years earlier, a letter to them. With soft bags packed, milk crates strapped on the XT's home made carriers, we drove the RAM 2500 kms to Phx. The Monida pass nearly got us on the way down, blizzards passing thru SLC on the way back, but after 5 weeks travelling from one end of Baja to the other (and back), a wealth of experience gained, an adventure worth writing a book about, and memories that only whetted my appetite for more... much more.

I will write about that trip in an upcoming Blog, but suffice to say... I keep going back. I've been to Baja more than a dozen times now. I've ridden the mountains, the valleys, the coasts. I've been lost, and I've crashed (even fracturing an ankle once whilst 80km off road in 110 heat and having had to ride out!

That first ride included several forays into the deserts surrounding Phoenix. From then on, I have always wanted to own a home there, a dream I'd thought impossible until last year, and to base a bike or two for further explorations. I've wanted to ride the Superstition Mountains, visit Tuscon, Boot Hill and the Grand Canyon. I want to do much of it in the off season as riding here in Canada is great in the summer...

With the US housing crunch/disaster of the last couple of years (remember a disaster always opens opportunities) I finally was in a position to buy myself a condo in Glendale. Modest, 1026 sq' up down, 2 bedrooms, 2 pools and well located, at a price you couldn't beat, I now have my southern base of operations.

There's only been enough time to furnish the place, set up Bank accounts to pay power, water and Verizon bills, but all this doesn't matter. I am a patient guy, and I plan on using this place for many (many) years to come. Even Lisa and a couple of her friends have visited, and Holly is headed down with East coast cousin Amber and long time Calgary friend Gill, next month.

Last month I hopped a cheap US Airways flight at 6 50AM our local time, and by 1 pm, was on my bike riding in plus 20 weather. Their time is our time... except during DLST.

While there that week, I tried the Challenger II (not a shuttle) and rode about 100kms in the nearby desert with the little DR. It was hot, at least when I was paddling unceremoniously feet down like a (Daffy) duck, in foot deep sand washes. In those places a sidebyside with big soft terrain tyres works best, but that's almost like 'driving.'

Maybe when I get older... ?

You don't have to go very far from the city to experience that isolation that only the Arctic, that's the only other place I can think of that's comparable, and the world's deserts give you.

I was in no worry about getting lost and dying of thirst, after all... I was only 10kms from a major paved road, but all the same... the vastness, the desolation, the isolation, the utter tranquility appeals to the lone wolf explorer in me.

Yes... ever since that first drive down US 93, back in the summer of '67... I have been fascinated by the desert.

A "Deprived Place"... not for me it isn't.

*In the fall of 1997, standing in line at the Hotel Serinadad, in metro Mulege, waiting to buy tickets to the weekly 'pig roast' (nothing to do with Cops!) for (then GF) Barb and I, there's a couple in front of us. He was wearing a T-shirt with an advert for Eddie Mulder's Triumph restoration business. I said quite plainly to Barb that I wondered if Eddie Mulder was still alive? The attractive woman in front of us, turned and said to me... plainly... "Well I should hope so, he's my husband!" The Eddie Mulder turns and introduces himself to me and we have quite the conversation creeping up to the wicket. They have a home farther down the peninsula, and travel from CA regularly.

Don't that beat all. The dirt track, flat track, desert racing legend in the flesh.

For me that was like running into Elvis at the WalMart!!!