6/2/00
Indio, CA
Mileage 87.12 miles
Max. 38 mph
Avg. 14.01 mph

Most of the mileage yesterday was completed after noon and despite that, I didn't feel sore or even tired this morning. That's a good sign that my conditioning program has me well prepared for the physical stress of the trek. Getting enough rest from day to day and from week to week will need attention to make sure it happens.

Just after sunrise I was underway. My front tire lost air mysteriously during the night. I spent 50 cents for one of those gas station machines. It pumped barely to 60 lbs. Since I'm rolling 100 psi tires, I'll need to look for a truck stop or a tire repair shop and use their compressor.

Like most of the communities out here 100 miles east of LA, Fontana is laid out in a grid pattern. It's close to the freeway and has little or no industry of its own. Everyone lives here and works somewhere else. I noticed a sign pointing to Rialto. Is that the Rialto that gave its name to all those movie theaters?

In Calimesa, a fruit stand caught my eye. A new employee decided I should pay $4.00 a pound for two bananas. While the owner adjusted the bill, a radio talk show host in Lexington--Cruiser--called and we talked live for 10 minutes or so. Several stations are following my progress, and I'm learning what interests listeners.

In midmorning I made an error that ended costing quite a lot of leg energy. All of the routing through California was designed to stay out of the foothills on either side of the Moreno Valley. Near Redlands, I could see no alternative but to go south into the foothills through the developments off the freeway along Sunset Drive. What a workout for over an hour! There wasn't 50' of flat road for miles. To make matters worse, as I rocketed down the last hill I could see a frontage road I could have taken that would have saved my legs.

It is important to avoid wasting energy anytine but especially early in the day because I knew I wanted to overnight in Indio which was a 90 mile ride from Fontana. I did not want to run out of gas before reaching Indio where there was no place to stay. As the desert approached, communities are smaller and spaced further apart. Spending the night curled up to a yucca did not seem attractive.

Besides the size of the cities and towns, the most noticeable change from the coast is heat. Just 10 miles inland from Santa Monica the increase was noticable, and the temperature kept right on climbing into the mid 90s as I rode eastward.

Just outside Beaumont, double life sized dinosaurs stood in a nicely done private museum/fast food stop. Climbing inside via stairs was possible, but I felt pressed to move on. In Beaumont itself the Cherry Festival was on. A church group advertised organically raised sweet bing cherries. I bought two pounds and spent the next hour seeding the roadside on the way to Banning. I came upon two motorcycle riders parked in the middle of the road for some reason. They said they had just finished racing on one of the canyon roads at 170 mph--right. I asked if they knew where I could legally enter the freeway, but they didn't know. When I asked what they thought would happen if I was stopped by the Highway Patrol, they warned me. They also said the frontage road I was on continued to the next exit. It didn't, and I ended up on a back road that ended in a gulch I couldn't cross.

Back tracking is always a waste, and the frustration made me decide to just enter the freeway and hope for the best. My maps did not show an alternate route and that is supposed to determine whether bicyclists can ride the shoulders. With a blind eye to the sign reading, "Pedestrians and bicycles prohibited," I entered the steady stream of fast traffic headed east.

The noise and side blast wind from the trucks distracted and intimidated. My focus was intense. Tire debris forced me to weave a path through it while scanning behind constantly for a vehicle that looked like it might drift onto the shoulder. With all the excitement, I failed to note the nice tailwind. Passing trucks also pushed me along and I began to think we were on some sort of team together. I guess I was trying to minimize the danger--no one would run over a team member would they?

Near Banning I came upon a CHP parked behind an empty car. I rehearsed my story about no alternate route and anticipated getting written up but the officer just smiled and said to stay safe--quite the contrast to what the bikers had warned me to expect.

I noticed the tailwind had picked up when I stopped to chat with the officer. As the afternoon waned and as I came to San Gorgonio Pass I could feel it pushing me along even rushing past. The terrain changed to a gentle downhill. All of a sudden as I entered the pass itself I stopped pedaling yet continued at 20+ mph. Ahead a line of windmills appeared on a ridge. As I rounded the top of a rise in the highway, a scene exploded in front of me. Thousands and thousands of huge windmills covered the valley floor. Directly in front of me their turning blades looked like a giant millipede winding its many legs across the highway.

The highway steepened and the channeled wind blew stronger. Thirty then nearly forty miles an hour I flew not pedaling a stroke. High speed plus dodging debris on the shoulder and watching for pot holes and rough patches in the cement took all of my concentration. Fear crept in and I braked to slow down despite not wanting to ruin the best free ride ever. The fun lasted 20 miles, in fact, it was so long I began to get bored, a little.

Eight miles before the exit where I would become legal, another CHP appeared just as I was passing a stalled motorist. I was sternly commanded to stop and once again I prepared for the worst. We talked for a short time about what I was up to. The odor of my sun screen was mentioned. I thought that was a good sign. Interest was expressed in what it was like to ride a recumbent. I began to think I wouldn't get a ticket or certainly not kicked off the road into the brush.

The officer seemed a bit perplexed about what to do with me. I prompted a solution by suggesting that I get off at the next exit which was only a mile away. Pushing my luck I asked where I could get on the freeway legally and was told that the exit about six miles after the one nearby would be it. The officer went on to say that if I would get through those few miles early, say at sunrise, I would probably make it without getting caught because that was when the CHP shift change took place.

Many thanks followed from me as the officer drove off. I beat feet to the exit, logged into a motel, and plotted the next morning sprint.

What a day! I hoped I had not seen the high point of the trek so early on. Dinner was in the Martinez Mexican Restaurant with a pretty girl as the waitress. I had two beers and felt great.