Today's trip was 214 miles, most of it on I-40, and then Route 58 around Barstow. We were heading to the little town of Mojave for the night.The scenery was the same dry, sandy, scrub-filled terrain, with mountain peaks encircling us.It was hazy and slightly overcast today, making it better for traveling through the desert without the glare on the windshield.
We began to climb, and as we gained altitude, also began seeing cacti clinging to the hill sides, poking out of the sand like stubble on a chin.
We crested only to drop slightly across the plain that lead to the next mountain top. Once again, we would climb, crest, and then drive across the next plain to the hills beyond.
In the haze, the terrain resembled a moonscape, the rocky, jagged peaks resisting the erosion and smoothing of time. We listened to the next chapter of the book. It was about Titan and what scientists observed as they looked for evidence of liquid water. This chapter certainly seemed appropriate as we drove across today's wasteland.I wondered if there was evidence of water anywhere here.
Between the ranges, at around 2,700 feet altitude, the flat valley seemed a little greener.The road continued straight ahead into the distance.
We passed several washes. It's not hard to imagine how in a downpour the water simply rushes through the valley, sweeping anything in its way along nature's rain gutters.
I noticed that in this remote area, blue signs spaced every few miles indicate the location of a telephone in case of emergency. I suspect that before cell phones, this means of communication was vital should you encounter problems.I then wondered if we in fact even had cell coverage out here and checked our own phone. We did.
In one spot, the different shades of soil were interesting, like batter that was not properly mixed or blended.
Despite the vast emptiness, the scenery was fascinating and interesting. My small camera cannot possibly do it justice. We were driving on top of the world, straight towards a backdrop of peaks, outlined in multi-layered silhouettes. The enormity and vastness of the surroundings is humbling, we but a small speck speeding along at 60 miles an hour.
For some reason, there were several stopped trains today, simply standing idle along the track. They all had more than one engine and dozens of cars.
Historic Route 66 accompanied us again for several miles, a two-lane road with its yellow stripe down the center. I didn't see anyone driving along it.
Around mile post 40, there was more burned and scorched earth. The map showed two craters here, Amboy and Pisgah, evidence of yet more past turmoil and upheaval.
We stopped at a rest stop after two hours of driving. California did not disappoint and all their rest stops along the way were open. They are well spaced out too and well frequented by truckers and motorists alike. It felt good to have a break from the monotony of the drive.
From Barstow to Mojave is about 67 miles. The terrain remained pretty bleak and desolate. This is a remote and arid region, useful only for recreation (though why that would be appealing is beyond me), and for training armed forces. We passed the Marine Corps training center and saw three helicopters flying overhead, more than likely doing their training exercises. Further along, we passed another restricted area, the Naval Air Warfare Center at China Lake, and Fort Irwin.
We crossed the Mojave River. It would have been a large river had there been water in it.
We drove past the town of Boron, known for its chemical plant, production of borax and the renowned 20 Mule Team.
Soon after that, we saw our fist Joshua trees.
And after that, wind turbines appeared on the horizon, hundreds of them.
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| the white spikes in the background are wind turbines, actively working on this blustery day |
I did find the mom and pop operation rather charming. The office was packed with home made quilted and crocheted items for sale. I asked the owner who made all the items. Both he and his wife made them all. I was surprised and in case I did not understand him correctly, asked which items he made. He made all the crocheted items, as well as some jewelry, and also helped his wife with the sewing of the potholders and small quilts.
I was impressed.
He told me that when he was a young boy, his mother taught him to crochet and to sew on her machine. When he met his wife, he taught her to crochet. The story goes that she decided that if a "big dumb marine" could crochet, then so could she!
I bought a couple of items from him - they will remind me of a fellow male seamer...seamstress... what is the right term for a male who sews, I wonder, because strictly speaking he is not really a tailor....
The "big dumb marine" chuckled and said he didn't mind what he was called.
Once we had set up, and checked emails over a cup of tea, we went for a walk.The cloud formations were amazing.The sun was just setting over the mountains.We walked down a dirt road, with Joshua trees, cholla cactus and creosote bushes sprinkled across the open fields.
The wind continued for most of the evening, but we were snug in Alpine, in the middle of the Mojave, and one day closer to our final destination. Pismo Beach, here we come!