John Brazelton, Paul, John, Bruce and Bill look eastward.

Spectacular sunshine with no sign of the dreaded Santa Ana winds -- yet. John, Bruce and Paul pedaled through suburban Riverside and its school zones, trying to reach 18 mph, only to stop at red light after red light.  Each intersection have us the chance to interact with bystanders -- school kids oohing and ahhing over the recumbents ("caliente!" one girl exclaimed) -- and adults asking how
much bikes like those cost. 

We were well on our way to 29 Palms --102 miles from the day's start -- and rolling through open agricultural areas of Moreno Valley, snow-capped peaks looming ahead.  Then, in a matter of a mile or two, the winds went from zero to roaring. Our pace dropped from 18 mph to 10 mph instantly. As the road wound through the valleys, the wind often shot sideways, forcing us to lean at crazy angles to keep upright -- only to be almost knocked over as passing trucks temporarily blocked the wind.

Now came the climbs into the dry inland desert, often on highways with heavy truck traffic, as the wind continued blasting.  As the pace dropped below 10 mph, we realized 29 Palms, still 50 miles away, was a dim prospect for this day, so we checked with locals and learned there the Morongo Indian Reservation had a casino/spa -- pretty much the last motel for 40 miles. Bill, sagging, drove ahead to snare two of last remaining rooms.  The casino would not allow us to take our bikes to our rooms on the 6th floor so we valet-parked them, to the great amusement of the valet staff. Then we strode through the cavernous casino, our garish bike clothes catching the stares of boozy, smoking gamblers.

33* 55' 18" N  -116* 47' 58" W

After the valets delivered our bikes, we set off on Highway 10, then exited to 62, heading north through great fields of white, three-bladed windmills.  Few were turning this morning -- a calm day, at last. We left the Palm Springs area behind, the snow-tipped San Jacinto Mountains slowing dwindling behind us.

We crossed several dry ridges -- the highest at 3224 feet in elevation-- then slipped into Yucca Valley, where Bruce in the van had stopped at a Big 5 and inquired about local's favorite lunch spots. Santana's Mexican Restaurant was the choice.

At last -- easy riding

Twenty-one miles to 29 Palms, the highway sign said.  The road looked long and flat but we soon found ourselves coasting at 22 mph, nearly the entire way.  By 2 pm we were in 29 Palms, a sparsely-settled desert community near a Marines base. We did not count all 29 of the palms -- the local vegetation seemed mostly a lot of scrub and small cacti with a few Joshua trees thrown in.

Next stop would be Parker, Arizona.  A chaplain with the 29 Palms fire department stopped to chat -- he was an avid bike tourer as well -- and advised us Parker would be a good 120 miles away, with no services in between.  So we got a motel and planned an early start across a rolling vista of sand and rock ridges. 

34* 8' 4" N  -116* 5' 42" W