Lonely, hot roads. Not an ounce of life. Burning soil and sky. How could any creature exist in the desert? And not just any desert…the Mojave Desert. And to add insult to injury…it’s friggin’ July. Hot. Really friggin’ hot. Like sizzle-you-are-a-fried-egg-hot. Definitely the worst time of year to be crossing this desert on a motorcycle.

But then again…it’s me.

Snap. Crackle. Pop…goes the rubbers of your tires and your lips but you venture forth. You, your motorcycle, some lip balm and a midnight sky full of stars shining down asking, “What the hell are you doing trying to cross the desert at night?” Yeah, good question.

Well, my motorcycling buddy and I are riding at night, and like I said, trying to cross the Mojave Desert. The reasoning of the night crossing is simple. If you ride during the day you die. Plain and simple. So, here we are riding our motorcycles at midnight on one of the loneliest highways on the planet. And believe it or not, it’s still freakin’ 100 degrees out. We are on our way from California to the Four Corners and the famous Zions in Utah and unfortunately, the only way there from here is over this desert. And it’s July. Did I mention that? Did I also mention how freakin’ hot it is?

Wake up…time to ride.

The moon wakes you from your evening nap and with a yawn and a stretch you start gearing up. It’s getting close to 10pm and the night air is stifling. You fill up with gas at some dusty, hair dryer town on the fringe of the desert. Grab liters of bottled water and Red Bulls. The liquids you choose to go into your body is essential for survival. There’s nothing quite like the blast of caffeine and taurine in a good old-fashioned American Red Bull. Truck drivers drink these all the time and they sure give you that edge you need for the long haul. Red Bull is illegal here in Canada. Hmmm…wonder why? Anyhow, you fill up your jerry cans with extra gas just because you have no idea if the next town on the map still exists. You smile over at your riding buddy and giggle at the lunacy of the nights adventure. Straddle your iron horse and start the engine.

The sky blinks back at you. You are two travelers that must find shade by sunrise. An empty highway and a black hot desert surround you.

The journey begins…

In the beginning, the emptiness of the road creeps down your spine. Eventually you submit to it, wrapping it around you like a big, soft blanket. You sense life all around you. It’s hard to believe but those yellow eyes shining back let you know – you are not alone. Yes. There is life in the desert. We have become living proof of that.

Night riding in the desert is the closest to meditation that a motorcyclist will find. You almost stop breathing because the calm is so present. There is death nearby, too. Just waiting. The thought of the scorched earth around you makes you ride faster and faster. You are amazed at your average traveling speed; the expression hauling ass comes to mind. Yes, hauling ass but in the most gentle way. Floating very, very fast. Flying over the broken road.

The air is too warm for night, so your breathing changes. You struggle in the beginning but soon deep tantric style breaths take over. The breath of a yogi. Your senses are absolutely heightened due to the blackness around you. The stars guide your internal map and the moon lights the road for you. Only the desert seems to remain black…empty…almost absorbing any light like a charcoal abyss. If it weren’t for the stoic Joshua trees lining the side of the road, you’d be swimming through the night sky.

Swimming on a motorcycle…

You ride with all your gear on. Full leathers and helmet despite the lax state laws. The leather protects your skin and makes you sweat – this is good. At speeds upwards of 200 km/hour this feels cool. Plus, the added protection keeps your skin from boiling off once the sun rears its nasty head in the morning. The sun. You have a new love/hate relationship with this entity. You avoid its rays like the plague. You have become a vampire of sorts; a creature of the night that exists only in the shadows.

You play games like pass the water bottle at speeds exceeding your gages. One rider holds out the water bottle and the other rider speeds up alongside your bike and snatches the bottle out of your hand. You laugh. This game is keeping you awake. Focused. Alive. Later, you dump half the water over your head and helmet so you can breathe, coating your neck with a nice salty paste. The air is thick. The water evaporates quickly. You play another game. Stay alert, says the sky. Stay on the road, says the stars.

Find shade soon, says the moon. The morning light is already peaking across the horizon.

The heat will come soon.

Our focus increases. The moon is still high above the horizon but the heat of the morning is starting to crack the surface of the earth. You can feel it in your eyes. The moisture is starting to disappear. Shade…must find shade.

Our maps say a town is close.

We ride like banshees. The water game no longer amuses us. The wind is starting to feel like bumblebees in our nostrils. The sun has just started to streak the sky. It’s low. It’s Hot. It’s coming.

Sunrise.

We see the town in the distance. Not a town really. An acreage of structures bunched together. No trees, just metal roof tops and square boxes. Oh, no. You exchange looks with your riding partner. This is not good. No real shade except for the west side of the big building.

We pull up. Park your bikes in the coolest part of the shadow. Realize it’s a tiny little café and walk inside. You both order coca-cola for no real reason except it seems the right thing to do. You put your head on the table and soon find yourself asleep. The stale air of this double wide trailer slash café knocks you unconscious. Your riding partner sits beside you and every couple of hours braves the elements and moves the bikes in a rotation with the sun.

You sleep.

You have never known sleep like this.
You realize you have made it. Miraculous. Only a couple more hours, riding along the same highway will lead you over the Four Corners and towards the Zions where an air conditioned motel room and shower with cold water waits for you.

You fall back to sleep.
Soon it will be time to ride again.