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!!!