I had just returned from 3 weeks in the wilderness with Eric Pianka, an Ecologist working on his PHD, doing research for his dissertation.  I was helping as his field assistant.  We had been hunting lizards in the deserts of CA, AZ and NV, camping in remote desert locations.  At 17 and a half years old, my sense of adventure was extremely high, with the persistent wilderness enthusiasm leading me to want to ride my bicycle to the beach and maybe do some “herping” along the way.  (Herping is a term used, by those who like reptiles and amphibians, to talk about hunting them).  Bicycling had been my major transportation since the 5th grade, and I did not have a drivers’ license nor could I afford to drive anyway, since there were few jobs for kids in Mojave, and the few jobs there were got snatched up by friends and relatives of the bosses.Living in Mojave, CA, that bicycle ride would be a challenge since the shortest way would be about 140 miles across the desert then up and over the coast range down to Ventura.  I had a general idea of how to get there and with the recent camping experience with Eric in the deserts, I was confident of being able to camp along the way.  I could easily follow road signs.  I figured it should be pretty simple to average 10 mph for 10 hours to go 100 miles in a day.  -(Should)-  I had neglected to consider the climb over the coast range, and summer temperatures.My bike was a lightweight 26 inch bargain basement brand (Tempo) with coaster brakes, flat rubber pedals and a basket meant to be mounted on the front that I had cobbled onto the rear because I did not like how it handled on the front.  It was a lot easier to maneuver with the weight on the rear.  I had gotten the bike for Christmas in 1956 and rode it all over the desert trails around Mojave to hunt for rocks, fossils, artifacts, catch lizards, and just to explore.  The tires were original (with lots of goat head thorn puncture patches on the tubes) and the tread was starting to wear, but fabric still did not show.  A few years earlier, I had decided I wanted it to have metallic green paint, so I mixed aluminum and green enamel attempting to get the metallic effect, but it turned out to be more of a pale green pearl, which was ok, but not at all what I wanted.  The fenders were unpainted aluminum except where I had painted “Wanderlust” on the front fender with maroon enamel.  In addition, I had an old refrigerator metal shelf grate that I attached to the non-drive side of the rear wheel to hang stuff like my rock hammer and folding GI shovel.I wore khaki colored jeans, a cotton t-shirt, and an off-white felt cowboy hat.  I would also carry a long sleeved shirt for when it might be cool.  I pedaled barefoot, wrapping my toes over the front edge of each pedal for a good grip.  Flip flops were what I wore if I would be walking where there might be stickery tumbleweeds or goat heads or a few pebbles on pavement that would hurt through even my barefooter calluses.

My travel “kit” set into the basket was simple, my sleeping bag being the majority of the bulk.  I wedged a half gallon plastic bleach bottle of water beside it.  I always carried it as my “canteen” on my excursions through the desert around Mojave, and yes, the shovel and rock hammer too.  A bag of bread, a can of beans and a pound of medium cheddar cheese to use for sandwiches with the bread.  A few apples stuffed in a plastic bread bag filled out my rations.  I’d gotten $15 cash from Eric for my help, so as far as I was concerned, I was set.