The first of the Joshua Trees.

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USA, Salton Sea, Bombay Beach, 09-10-2002.

I left the scarcely dressed ladies in front of my hotel alone last night and, after finishing up my six pack of Tecate beer, went to a nearby bar for a last Caguama - what the mexicans call a one-liter bottle of beer - before going to bed early and sleeping peacefully and undisturbed untill 09.00 h. in the morning..
Leaving Prostitute City - as I've nicknamed Mexicali - and crossing the border back into the USA presented me pas de problem.

It's early afternoon now and a strong and dry sun is beaming down at me with a full 38 centrigrate strengh. On my right through the shimmering in the air caused by the intense heat I can discern the Chocolate Mountains and on my right the Salton Sea which is supposed to be the biggest lake in Calfornia but looks real unattractive.
I'm cycling through a gray white landscape, a salt desert which is sparsely inhabited by humans - just the occasional rancho and roadside restaurant anex small supermarket - plenty of animal life to keep me occupied though, ducks and mallards overflying the road on the way to the Salton Sea, an enormous rattle snake sigsaging across the road. When I stop to investigate he puts his tail in the air with the rattles producing an ominous sound, his body the size of a grown human male's upper arm.
I decide to leave my newly found reptilian amigo alone and cycle on. The first of the strangely shaped Joshua Trees are starting to appaer along the roadside.
It's the Joshua Tree National Park I'm heading for though tonight I'll have to camp at the Salton Sea's shore.

Bombay Beach, early evening.

Just a few american bucks for my tent on this private campground facing the lake, my tent in the middle of old vans that house a semi-permanently alternative population.
My neighbors have invited me to participate in an effort to empty an enormous bowl of Spagetti Bolognese. I go easy on the tomato ketchap but my hosts have no qualms on that part of our meal betraying me the origins of their fat bellies.
Several bottles of Red Californian Wine tell me I'll be on my bike tomorrow with a hangover again.

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Photos

A sketch from my travel log
while cycling in California.