Our plan for California seemed perfect—Yosemite, Sequoia, Joshua Tree, Death Valley, and the famous Highway 1. Reality, however, quickly put a damper on it. Hurricane Hilary destroyed Death Valley’s infrastructure, landslides cut off sections of the Pacific Coast Highway, and the first snow in the northern part of the state thwarted our plans to visit Yosemite and Sequoia National Park. Instead of traversing all of California, we stayed in the south. And although we initially felt a bit resigned, it quickly turned out that the time spent in the sun-drenched southern corner of the state brought us just as many unforgettable experiences.
JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK – FACE TO FACE WITH THE DESERT
We’d had Joshua Tree National Park on our minds for a long time. In fact, ever since we first saw the sprawling Joshua trees standing alone in the Mojave Desert along the road to Los Angeles a few years earlier, we knew we had to go back. Back then, we didn’t have much time; we were rushing to catch a flight to Poland. When we returned to the United States in 2024, Joshua Tree Park was our first destination. We spent many unforgettable days there, and you can find some of our memories and quite a bit of practical information at this link.
DEATH VALLEY – THE HOTTEST PLACE IN THE U.S.
We previously wrote about the damage caused by Hurricane Hilary as it passed through the United States. Death Valley had been closed for a very long time, and we had basically resigned ourselves to the fact that we wouldn’t be able to see Death Valley this time around. But then, suddenly, we read online that the first routes had reopened! Admittedly, it was only a small section of the entire Death Valley, but that was enough to spark our imagination, and the prospect of seeing one of the most extraordinary places in the United States made us start checking routes and maps without a moment’s hesitation.
When we read about Death Valley, we pictured vast desert expanses, brought to life only by the wind whipping up clouds of dust over scattered rocks and withered shrubs. Instead, it greeted us with the unruffled surface of Badwater Basin and bid us farewell with a sea of golden flowers covering the plains of Panamint Springs. This extraordinary landscape, which we were fortunate enough to witness, was shaped by Hurricane Hilary itself. It brought with it not only destruction, but also life-giving water, thanks to which new life blossomed in the desert.
You can find more memories and photos from our nearly week-long stay in Death Valley in another article, which you can find at this link.
STORIES OF CERTAIN COINCIDENCES
– Good morning! – A loud greeting snapped us out of our reverie. We were stopped at a red light, somewhere between Las Vegas and Los Angeles. We were riding a single motorcycle; my Piglet was waiting for a missing part at Ryan’s workshop, and we didn’t want to waste time just sitting around, so we decided to take a trip to Las Vegas. If Basiorek hadn’t had Polish license plates, we probably wouldn’t have noticed each other at all. “Good morning!” we called back, and the standard conversation began: what we were doing here, where we were going. It didn’t last long; the light turned green right away, and we each went our separate ways. It was nice of them; later, we chatted among ourselves for a moment about how Poles in the United States are very warm and friendly, but we quickly forgot about the whole situation, and our minds turned to other things.
Two days later, first thing in the morning, we received a message on WhatsApp from an unknown number that went something like this: “Hi, this is Zbyszek—we met at the traffic light. You’re welcome to come over to my place in Escondido. My wife Jola has made some vegetable soup for you. We’re waiting!” It took us a moment to connect the friendly chat we’d had with the man from the car to the message we’d just read. Someone had gone to all that trouble to find our number online! “Unbelievable! But where on earth is Escondido?” we wondered, still unable to believe it. And what perfect timing, because we were almost packed and ready to hit the road. We found Escondido on the map, and guess what? It’s on the way to Anza Borego, where we wanted to hang out for the next few days before leaving the United States. Although we were a bit reluctant at first—we were already starting to miss our tent, the desert, and the evening campfire—we decided that fate had put Zbyszek in our path for a reason, and we had to visit him. Even if just for one afternoon.
It took us a little while to say goodbye to Ryan and the guys at the workshop—this was supposed to be our last visit to them this year. From Los Angeles, we were going to head slowly toward the Mexican border so we could spend Christmas somewhere on the beach. We waved goodbye one last time and set off toward Highway 15, which led directly to Escondido.
And then something happened that we hadn’t expected. It was unbearably hot, the traffic was a nightmare, everyone was honking at everyone else, and even we—on our motorcycles—couldn’t squeeze between the cars, so we just stood there patiently. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the motorcycle’s dashboard, and my gaze was drawn to the red engine temperature icon. I panicked a little, since I was still a newbie on a motorcycle, but Szymek, who was riding ahead of me, calmed me down. We pulled over to the left shoulder; we couldn’t get to the right one—it was four lanes away and full of stopped cars, whose drivers were completely unwilling to cooperate with us at that moment.
Motorcycles always break down at the worst possible moment
We figured out the cause of the problem pretty quickly—the gears on the plastic engine cooling fan had been completely destroyed by the fan motor. There was no way to glue them back together or fix them. What bad luck. Szymek talked to Ryan to see if he could find a fan that would fit Piglet and come pick us up, since we probably wouldn’t make it to Escondido that evening. Meanwhile, I was sitting on the curb, trying to hide in the shadow of Piglet standing next to me. When Szymek finished talking, we heard a fire truck siren in the distance. “There must have been a traffic accident, which is why there’s such a traffic jam” I thought. And we were just about to start turning the motorcycle around and putting on the saddlebags when the fire truck stopped next to us, and firefighters ran out of it. I can’t even describe our surprise now when they started asking us if we were okay. We were surprised, and so were they, because some driver who had probably passed us had called 911, reporting an accident involving two motorcyclists, one of whom was lying on the road… I assume that the one lying there was most likely me—sitting on the curb. Seeing that it was all a big misunderstanding, the firefighters called off the rest of the emergency services. Later, they blocked the entire highway by parking a fire truck across the road and helped us push the motorcycle to the other side of the shoulder, where we would be safer. They asked a few more times if they should wait with us for the tow truck, but finally, reassured that someone would be coming for us soon
And that could have been the end of the story, but after the firefighters, the police arrived as well, and just like the firefighters before them, they asked us several times if we wanted them to wait with us. After the police, a tow truck arrived; the guys offered to tow us at least to the highway exit, but we assured them that our friend would be here soon. They left when our friend arrived, and we ended up back at Ryan’s garage.
ESCONDIDO, LA JOLLA, AND SAN DIEGO
Sitting in the warm jacuzzi, we told Zbyszek and Jola the story of our long journey to see them, because after all, following two days spent at Ryan’s workshop, we’d finally made it to Escondido. Unfortunately, we missed out on the vegetable soup, but Jola made us some delicious shrimp instead. It had been a long time since we’d enjoyed such luxuries—someone had cooked a meal for us, we’d been given a bedroom with a huge bed, and now we were soaking in a warm hot tub with a panoramic view of the entire city. Zbyszek and Jola’s house was truly beautiful and situated in an even more stunning location, and its owners—well—people with huge hearts. We had a wonderful evening, and at our hosts’ urging—we stayed one more day, because we couldn’t leave without seeing La Jolla and San Diego. To be honest, we really didn’t feel like heading back into a big city, but Jola spoke so convincingly about San Diego that we finally gave in, and the next morning, first thing, we set out for a short drive around the area.
“What about San Diego?” you might ask. San Diego certainly wasn’t your typical American city, full of people rushing around, the noise of car horns, and colorful neon lights. Admittedly, we haven’t been to many places like that so far, but compared to Los Angeles, we found space and greenery here that blended with the architecture into a cohesive whole. Above all, however, we found a bit of respite here—something rare in large American cities.
We were glad we let Zbyszek and Jola talk us into staying with them one more day and going on this trip. However, despite all the city’s beauty, it was San Diego’s beaches and the high cliffs stretching along the coast that made the biggest impression on us. Once again, we felt as if we were in Iceland, where the ocean’s waters shape the rugged faces of the rocks, the wind carries salt, and the screech of seagulls is louder than our thoughts. We regretted that we couldn’t stay here for sunset. All that remained was a walk along the shore, among coves, rocky ledges, and outcrops, where we had the chance to observe seals, sea lions, cormorants, pelicans, and seagulls. And so the afternoon passed. We had to get ready to return to Escondido before dark. And the next day, the road awaited us once again.
ANZA BORREGO AND AQUA CALIENTE
Anza-Borrego, which we finally managed to reach, is part of the Sonoran Desert—the same one we’d already had the chance to see in parts while traveling through Joshua Tree National Park. However, Anza-Borrego bears no resemblance to Joshua Tree. You won’t find any Joshua trees here, and the vegetation seems even sparser and drier. There are no distinctive rock formations on the horizon—only dry plains stretch out in every direction, framed by the distant mountains surrounding the desert. It might seem like there isn’t much going on here. And yet.
As soon as the sun began to dip toward the west, the sky took on extraordinary shades of pink and delicate purple. We sat by the tent, completely enchanted, listening to the silence, broken only by coyotes calling to one another in the distance. Sometimes their howling grew louder, and then we knew they were very close, though we never managed to spot them. They were like desert ghosts—present somewhere in the shadows, watching us from a distance.
On a practical note—there’s an entrance fee for the park, since unfortunately the America the Beautiful pass isn’t valid here, and it’s $10 per vehicle. Additionally, if you want to use the campgrounds, you’ll have to pay an extra $15 per site (or $25 if you need hookups for your RV). You can also camp in the wild in Anza-Borrego; there’s plenty of open space around. We actually arrived too late and didn’t want to look for spots at night. Especially since most of them are far from the main roads, and getting there can be a bit challenging due to the condition of the roads.
Mornings in the desert always look the same. Before the sun rises for good and bathes the earth in merciless heat, you can still hear nature’s quiet symphony. Something scratches, something rustles, and somewhere in the distance, something howls. Then everything suddenly falls silent, and we know it’s time to crawl out of the tent before it gets unbearably hot inside. In the desert, life happens at night. We, however, get up after sunrise, eat breakfast, slip into our motorcycle gear, start our bikes, and hit the road in 30-degree heat, roasting in the full sun. Only occasionally does the wind bring a bit of cooler air.
And yet we keep returning to places like Anza-Borrego. Someone might ask: why put ourselves through this? After all, we could choose easier, more comfortable routes. For us, however, the desert has something about it that draws us in—a magic that’s hard to explain. There’s also a sense of satisfaction in it—when, after a long day, we take off our shoes, sink our feet into the cool sand, light a campfire, and at night gaze up at the sky sparkling with millions of stars. This was one of the last camping trips of this journey. We were looking forward to new adventures—Mexico lay ahead of us again, and the entire route all the way to Panama. On the other hand, we lingered that morning, knowing that we wouldn’t feel such freedom as we did in the United States for a long time to come.
But before we left Anza-Borrego for good, we had one more stop to make: the metal sculptures by Mexican artist Ricardo Breceda. These massive steel structures rising from the ground look incredible—almost as if they were plucked straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Rusted, haphazardly welded, and made from scrap metal, they blend perfectly with the desert landscape of the area. To be honest, I was still hoping we’d manage to spot some of the bighorn sheep that live in the park—which, by the way, appear in the park’s logo—but even though I’d been looking for them since yesterday, I didn’t manage to spot a single one. So we left the park and headed toward Aqua Caliente.
The drive to Aqua Caliente was a pleasure in itself. A black ribbon of high-quality asphalt wound gently between the hills. There was more vegetation than in the Anza-Borrego Desert itself, and the landscape was a bit more varied. The sun enveloped us in its warm rays, and we enjoyed the nearly empty road—it was just us and the nature surrounding us. A perfect day, crowned by camping at the hot springs—Aqua Caliente—where we quickly forgot the hardships of the entire day on the road.
OFF TO MEXICO!
That night was our last in California and in the United States. First thing in the morning, even before breakfast, we headed toward the Mexican border in Mexicali. We were already missing good Mexican food, the sun, the beaches, and the palm trees. With a smile, we said goodbye to the United States and began the next leg of our journey through both Americas.
