Day Two : Palm Springs - Phoenix, Arizona

Running on bald....proceed with caution

I hit the road relatively early the next day, this was not a regular occurrence but I tried to be on the road by 12:00 every other day. If I left later than this I would simply be angry with myself. Leaving at midday suited for two reasons, firstly, at noon, the sun is directly above, albeit at it's hottest, it wasn't in my face as I rode East, leaving before noon would guarantee squinty eyes and a burned nose. It would be frequently the situation where I'd be either hungover or still intoxicated so also for this reason, noon was a more suitable time for me to leave. I did end up drinking a handful or two on this vacation. I'm not proud of it but I don't regret it. I believe I was punctual on day two because I was feeling ambitious and wanted to visit a national park at the start of the day. The south entrance of Joshua Tree Ntl. Park was probably about 40 miles east of Palm Springs so I thought I would take this road and ride north into the park for 10/15 miles, turn around, come back and drive back along the south boundries of the national park on the I10 towards Phoenix.

The information centre at the south entrance of Joshua Tree told me to actually see a Joshua Tree I would have to drive into the park at least 40 miles. 40 miles in, 40 miles out, and an extra 15 miles to the next gas station, I already have 25 miles on the odometer and I still don't know what my reserve is. At this point I was committed to riding in an unproductive North-Westerly direction but ended up seeing most of the park and it was quite enjoyable. The freedom of Day 2 was comforting and calming, I was feeling and thinking a little more positively. I was happy, really happy. I had totally forgotten about being rescued by the fire service. On committing to drive through the whole park to the north entrance of the park (for gas), I was turning a 4 hour day into an 8 hour day but the freedom to do so was really liberating. I saw the Joshua Trees, pulled over to climb some boulders, chatted to some hikers working in the park and I took my first Brodericks Bar series of photos. 

Brodericks handmade chocolate bar and cake company in Ireland had so kindly supplied me with some delicious snacks packed with energy and flavour to get me through the trip. I would leave these as gifts for people that would host me, I would also take a series of photos of these bars around America and on occasion, they would see me through an extra 100 miles on the road.

In a small town called Twenty Nine Palms, on the north boundary of Joshua Tree, I refilled my depleted tank and to my horror I discovered I had a bald rear tire. 475km to Phoenix alot of it on quiet highways. I ride a short quarter of this distance and stop short of the Arizona border along highway 62. Highway 62 is desert smooth and hilly, a really nice ride. The border is divided by the Colorado River. There was a slightly more populated town on the other side of the river called Parker. Prior to Parker on the California side, I stop in a tiny gas station in a village called Vidal Junction, where a gas station dude rang dozens of mechanics in a 100 mile radius trying to sort me out with a new tire. He had a black Honda Rebel 250 outside, kind of rat bike, cool. It was here I noticed I had already lost my Irish flag which had clung so proudly to the sissy bar for a mere 48 hours. I'm hoping it landed at the site of an old shoe tree in the middle of the dessert where people used to throw their shoes. The tree was burned down and now there is just an area of ash surrounded by a simple wire fence. Since the burning of the tree people have continued leaving totems, clothing and yes, shoes along the fence. It is completely random and I should have done more research into it. I've always respected flags and believe they should never touch the ground, I was saddened to think of the tri-colour strewn across Highway 62. With my bald tire and my flag missing I'm starting to worry again about whether I'm going to make it to the other side of America. These are bad omens. At least I have a spare flag, this is almost more important than replacing the tire.

The site of the now burned out 'Shoe Tree'

There was one thing more satisfying than crossing state borders. This would be my first state border crossing but also the crossing of my first timezone, of which I'd ride through four. From California into Arizona you pass from Pacific Time into 'Mountain Time', sounds like fun.

I took the risk and rode all the way to Phoenix on my bald tire. The local mechanics around Parker would do it but it would take at least a day to have the tire delivered and the order wouldn't go through until the next day. The whole way to Phoenix I was waiting for the pop or the bang as I would simultaneously fish-tail under an articulated truck. Luckily this didn't happen and my tire held up.

On the way to Phoenix, I pass through a town called Quartzsite. This town was famous for one of very few things; that was the naked bookstore owner, Paul Winer aka Sweet Pie. He made a name for himself in the 60s, 70s and 80s touring the U.S. and performing for more than a million and a half people at iconic venues such as CBGB and the Gaslight Au Go Go. I had intended on popping in to see him briefly, take a photo and leave, but he took out a pre-production version of a documentary being made about him, he got out his smoking pipe, sat down beside me and told me his whole life story. The shop was 30m x 30m packed from floor to ceiling with books, comics, magazines all individually wrapped to protect them from the harsh dust of the desert. Some classic magazines with the likes of Elizabeth Taylor on the front of a Vogue magazine in the early 70s, selling for $2, or to that effect. The town was bare to the bone; a few RV parks, a petrol station and weird little art shacks. I spent over an hour with this guy (I had read a review on tripadvisor that someone had the same intentions of popping in to see him and they too spent an hour with him). 

Paul spent 25 years on the road living out of his van, during this time he was arrested dozens of times and spent many nights in cells and afternoons in court. Paul claims to have invented the phrase, 'fuck em if they can't take a joke' which is the title of one of his songs, the same expression is attributed to Bette Middler. He also says Chippendales once opened for him when they were starting off and that he was the first nude male cabaret artist in the Western hemisphere. Paul was a brilliant blues musician and played piano, butt naked in his boogie woogie style. When his daughter was born he decided to leave the road and settle down. He is now a self-proclaimed roadside attraction.

I eventually had to hit the road again and I get to Phoenix in one piece where I stay with Pradeep and his flatmate Dylan, both intellects, open, friendly, interesting people. Pradeep prepared a beautiful Indian meal toned down for the European tongue but still very spicy! I got high with Dylan even though it was Pradeep's house and he was my host and wasn't in favour of the idea he made an exception as I was a guest. Pradeep then decided to stay up and we ate Broderick's, dried seaweed sheets, some really nasty American candy and I also left them with a bottle of Highbank Orchard Syrup, from Ireland. Pradeep shows me a show-reel of his accomplishments since moving to America including all his climbing and hiking trips. At this stage I still plan to camp out in the hammock and I'm intrigued by the places he has climbed. Pradeep just has a simple drive for life, a wanting to learn and explore.

Lessons of Day 2

-Take risks
-Climb
-Document / journal / photograph (which I was doing)
-Any average greasy tattooed, punk-ass rebel-riding gas station -attendant can be your guardian angels even if unsuccesful in their attempts.
-Confirm membership with Naturist Ireland