Box Canyon Road threw me back and forth between barren rock walls for 10 miles or more, before spitting me out, right at the southern entrance to Joshua Tree National Park. Unlike most of my 'shortcuts' it seemed this one actually saved time!
One of the last federal parks on my bucket list, I was going to catch it on my way to Mexico someday, but when I found out we were going to be in San Diego for a week, I decided it couldn't wait any longer.
This section is called the Pinto Basin. It was fairly straight and flat, and nothing got in the way of distant mountain views in every direction - not even the park's namesake Joshua trees. Where were they?
The pavement was in great shape though, and as I continued north, I got closer to the hills, and farther from the desert heat.
Around this hilltop bend, I spotted the Cholla Cactus Garden. No, they're not Joshua trees, but they do have their own catchy common name - teddy bear cholla!
A little disappointed, I turned onto Big Horn Pass road, which was to be my only foray off the pavement. Surely I'll find some Joshua trees here.
And I didn't have to go far! Nicely photographic specimens were scattered all across the landscape. A few even cast a bit of cool shade across the road - like any self respecting tree would do.
But technically speaking, trees they are not. Yucca brevifolia are just high-achieving plants. But I didn't mention that in their presence. Like a hill that's just a few feet short of official mountain status, it can't be easy for them to hear.
The rock and sand trail rose over a low summit, before dropping again to rejoin the main park road. Most of it was pretty solid, but a few spots had developed fairly deep and loose washboards. As you can see in the previous photo, the street tires supplied on my rental were not ideal. I kept it slow.
Back on the pavement, I entered the closest thing to a Joshua tree forest I'd seen yet. The route got a little more interesting from a curves standpoint as well, but keeping it down anywhere near the extra low park speed limit was difficult.
Here the trees lined the road, like they were planted there, and stood out nicely against the red rock background. As you can see, traffic on this Tuesday afternoon was very light, but I did find a park ranger to follow for a while. He was having trouble sticking to the posted limits as well!
Exiting the park's north side at the town of Joshua Tree, I turned south to begin my return to the coast. This included a 13-mile stint of Interstate 10, headed east, with L.A. at my back. Not only is leaving L.A. always better than entering, but on this day, I was pushed along by one of the strongest winds I have ever experienced on a motorcycle. Sitting straight and tall in the saddle, I used my back as a sail, and the motor barely had to work at all!
I left the freeway and passed through the city of Palm Desert, a suburb, of sorts, to the better known Palm Springs. The picture above was taken there, as the temperature rose to its highest level of my trip - 95 degrees!
Fortunately, I didn't have to endure that for very long. Right on the edge of town, Highway 74 began to climb immediately into the San Bernadino National Forest.
The most incredible road of the day, it zigzagged up the mountain, the air getting cooler with each switchback.
The views were not half bad either, but pull-outs for scenic stops were few.
Topping out over 3,000 feet, I entered somewhat of an agricultural region. The curves here were not as extreme, but still thoroughly enjoyable. And the weather was perfect!
You'll notice I got my finger in this shot. As you might imagine, taking photos at speed is somewhat difficult. A lot of riders these days mount a camera with electronic image stabilization onto their handle bars - or helmet. But most of you know, by this time, that I don't readily adopt new technology. Perhaps someday.
In the meantime, I'll capture moments like this as best as I can. After back roads 371, 79, 76, 78, and 67, I crested this hill on the Scripps Poway Parkway, and caught the sun, just as it sank completely below the horizon.
From here it was all downhill to the Pacific, Interstates 15 and 8, and the airport region of San Diego.
I wanted to make it back before it got pitch dark. I'd told Philipp 9:00 at the latest, but that I'd try hard for eight or eight thirty. He had to prepare for a tour he was guiding later in the week, so he'd offered to stay late. It was 8:15 when I pulled up to his storage locker. Not bad.
By the bike's trip meter, I'd gone 455 miles in just under 11 hours. I took my helmet off for only the third time all day. Pretty much brand new when I'd packed it in its own carry-on for the flight to California, I guess it was broke in now!
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