April 4

This was a day I had studied more than any other in my preparations. It worried me. It worried my wife, Susan. At one point she offered to drive the route while I would be out there —maybe not creeping along behind me in her Prius V, but possibly waiting in Barstow or Needles in case I put out an SOS. 

For most bicycle tourists like me on Bicycle Route 66, it takes two days to get across the Mojave Desert. In those two days you'll find hardly any places with water, food or people (listed in my order of priority.) The map below actually is deceiving. There's less there than appears.

I decided to divide my crossing by going 82 miles the first day from Barstow to Amboy. The second day would be about 75 miles from Amboy to Needles.

I rolled out of Barstow at about 8 a.m., dead tired. I don't mean to belabor the impact of climbing the Cajon Pass on Day 2, but my body still had not fully recovered. This morning I actually rode with my eyes half closed, I was so beat. So, I was going into this day of great concern with little energy. Yikes. 

It's not visible here, but the road called the National Trails Highway — or Historic Route 66 — parallels Interstate 40 from Barstow to Ludlow. A few times it was so close to I-40 that it felt like I was on the freeway's bike path. The first place with a dot on my map was Daggett. It had several homes and what might have been a couple small businesses — Barstow's bedroom community? —  but that was about it.

My strategy for today was to make stops for food and drink at Newberry Springs (20 miles from Barstow) and Ludlow (another 25 miles), and then push on for the remaining 37 miles to Amboy. 

Newberry Springs has two things. One is the old building of the Bagdad Cafe, made famous by the 1988 B movie of the same name.  The cafe has been closed for several years, but it still attracts international tourists, such as the Japanese visitors who were checking it out when I rolled up. 

I downed both in seconds and got back on the road.

It was gorgeous out here. The temperature seemed to be in the 70s or low 80s. The sky was a pristine blue. And it was so quiet.

Continuing the ride to Ludlow became a bit challenging. I was in a strong crosswind most of the time. I tried a quarter turn of my back into it while on my bike seat to see if I could get a push, but it seemed to be of little benefit. Still exhausted, on long grades I would rock back and forth as I pushed the pedals and my eyes would start to droop, almost risking rocking myself to sleep. That was in the stretches where the road was smooth. What definitely kept me awake — and loudly bitching — were the longer stretches of cracked and patched pavement that had my bike and my nerves rattling.

Fortunately, I saw only a handful of vehicles on the road, so I wasn't in any danger. (Most motorists in this area probably choose to drive I-40, since it's so close.)

I made it to Ludlow and the Ludlow Cafe at about 11:15 a.m., feeling drained.  I went inside and settled into a booth. After giving the waitress my order, I spotted an electrical outlet on the wall behind the salt and pepper caddy on the table. I had brought in my handlebar bag — in which I carry my most valuable stuff — and pulled out my phone, bike computer and a battery pack I use to keep my various devices charged during the day. (I'll tell you some other time about all the electronic gadgets I'm carrying.) Since I was headed to an overnight stop where I wouldn't have power — and I didn't need navigation help since there was only one road to Amboy — I had turned off my phone and bike computer shortly after leaving Barstow so I could conserve energy.  I made sure all three were topped off with juice.

A tasty lemonade and a patty melt with fries hit the spot. When the waitress asked if I would like anything else, I told her "A nap would be great right now." She replied, "I was just thinking the same thing! I love a good nap after lunch."

But, I had to get back on the road. I rolled back out on the National Trails Highway at about 12:15 p.m.

At Ludlow, the NTH angles away from I-40, going southeast towards Amboy. And, based on my map reading, much of the remaining route would be downhill. But not the part leaving Ludlow. I was immediately greeted with a long, gradual climb that went on for about a mile. With my legs tightened up from lunch and the rest of me slowing down, it was a slog. But in moments like that, the best thing is to just accept it. The terrain is the terrain. Relax. Just keep turning the pedals. You'll get there. 

And then the road turned.

What had been a slight crosswind from about the 8 o'clock position was now straight at my back — 6 o'clock! I went into my biggest gear and started turning it easily. The wind wasn't as strong as on Day 2, when I didn't have to pedal, but I was now flying along at about 25 mph. The pavement was smooth here. My tires were humming.

I've always been like a horse headed for the barn when I know I'm closing in on the day's destination. When  conditions are right, I often pick up the pace. Even though I was achingly tired today, adrenaline kicked in and I hammered the rest of the way.

About a mile out from my destination, I spotted the iconic Roy's Motel Cafe sign. I slowed my pace and cruised in. I stopped for a picture of the Amboy sign with Roy's in the background, then rolled up to the gas station and convenience store.

I went inside to let them know I was there. I had called the day before to give them a heads-up that a cyclist would be looking for a place to sleep. The woman who works the evening shift, Miss Nicole, came out of the back and asked, "Are you Rich, the cyclist?" She pointed out the cabins on the property that once housed Route 66 travelers but are now empty shells. "Most of the cyclists just put up their tents inside the cabins. You can take any one of those in the front row. All we ask is that you buy something, like a T-shirt." (I did.)

There's a whole story to Roy's, which you can get a sense of from the video below. It was once headed for extinction like most of the businesses along Route 66, but its current owner has been gradually marketing its remote location — with that gorgeous neon sign! — in hopes of reviving the place to its former glory. It now plays an important role for cyclists crossing the desert, giving them a place to stay, rather than having to wild-camp.

After a lemonade and root beer from Roy's cooler, I pushed my bike to Cabin 1, rolled it through the door that didn't fully close, and put up my tent on the concrete floor. The place was not appealing but it was shelter. As Miss Nicole reminded me, Roy's has no running water (they've got plans to dig a deep well someday that won't be tainted by the salinity in the soil).  When Nature called, I'd have to walk to the other side of the store, where the porta-potties were lined up.

I had made it through the day I'd worried so much about. Susan would be relieved. I texted her that I'd arrived in good shape. A minute or so later, red text appeared next to my message — "Not delivered!". The cellphone service was flickering off and on, only momentarily reaching one bar. At some point it stayed on long enough for my message to get through. When I noticed that she would now know I was safe, I turned off my phone to conserve energy for the next day.

Other than providing a place to bed down, Roy's doesn't offer much else to cyclists. The little freezer in the store had some frozen burritos, four Stouffer's microwaveable frozen meals and some ice cream treats. That was it.  I choked down a gelatinous meat loaf meal for dinner. Most of the drinks were sodas and fruit drinks, with only a few bottled waters. Knowing I needed calories for the next day, for dessert I had two Clif bars that I'd been carrying.

Roy's had a fairly steady stream of characters and tourists stopping by while I was there. Its setting does seem like something Hollywood created. While I was eating at one of the outdoor tables, a heavily tattooed guy who had been taking pictures of a woman — an aspiring model? — around the property, said to her: "Being here makes me feel like we're characters in a B movie."

As night began to fall, the sky and the light were amazing. It made you want to take pictures of everything. I took a few.

I'd gotten a short nap after pitching my tent. After my sumptuous dinner, I crawled back inside my tent and lay down on my Therma-rest pad on the concrete floor. It felt fine. Also, I had no phone and no Wi-Fi, so I was in the clear. No distractions.

I glanced at my watch: 7:44 p.m. 

I was off to dreamland. 

Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.

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