Day Eight: Calico Ghost Town - Baker

The ride from Calico Ghost Town to Baker was a straight shot on the freeway without any stops. We rolled down a huge hill into the “town”, which we discovered is more like a long street with ten plus gas stations for those going to and from Las Vegas. There were multiple tour buses full of Chinese visitors that were taking photographs of gas pumps, and spilled ice cream cones and crying children littered the sidewalks. Hot, flustered, and thirsty, Slater and I sought out an Orange Julius smoothie from the gas station, but found out it was $8.00 for a 12-oz. drink. Pissed. We resorted to our warm water and leftover Subway sandwiches that we carried from Calico, and ate some soggy bread with melted cheese. While no one in the town seemed to actually live there, they did know a few things about Baker—mainly the fact that there was no place to sleep. A small motel down the road was open to visitors, but when we approached the owners, they slammed the door in our faces after we decided that their price was a bit too high for their drug-infested property.

One more hike down the road took us to a small fire station, where we rang the doorbell and were welcomed by a friendly young guy and the fire chief. They informed us that “You definitely don’t want to stay there” (in regards to the motel) but recommended a small park about two blocks away. There’s only one policeman in town, they said, and his office was right next to the park. “He’s not likely to bug you, he has bigger things to deal with.” So we headed over to the park with our bikes and waited for the families to clear out. And we waited… and we waited… and changed a flat tire… and waited… and then we went to Denny’s. Management wouldn’t allow bikes inside the restaurant, so we set them outside a window next to our booth and watched them like hawks. At one point, two men approached the bikes and began poking and prodding at all of our gear. Just like that, I transformed into a psycho woman: I stood up on my seat, pressed my face against the glass, and reached for my pepper spray (not sure what good that would do with a window in between us). Let’s just say that made our waitress feel extremely uncomfortable…

They left the bikes alone, hopped into their car and drove off. I felt stupid. We ate our food over the course of six short minutes, paid our bill, and then rode into the dark toward our home for the night. There were still people in the park, so we hid out behind some bushes and set up camp. We were joined in our tent that night by a giant bug who apparently wanted to cuddle, and we were highly offended. He would scuttle across our arms or legs, and it was too hot to cover ourselves with our sleeping bags, so we dealt with minor heart attacks every time it happened. We never caught him, so chances are he’s lurking in our bags somewhere. That bastard. It was a rough night’s sleep.