Cross Country

After spending the night in the Imperial Valley of California at Santa Nella, we awoke to more fog. This was dense, cold, claustrophobic fog. Even the orange trees were shivering in the fields. We saddled up and turned south along the flat boring section of Interstate 5. Hugging the right lane, with only 1 or 2 car lengths of vision, we were continually passed by cars and semis flinging themselves down the fast lane into a grey oblivion. Seeing an opportunity here, I dozed in the passenger seat. Eventually we turned off east and left the dreaded I 5 behind us and headed across to Bakersfield. Even though we were within striking range of Los Angeles and some of the richest real estate in the country, here we were still in back country USA. Old old mobile homes with no grass and rusting equipment and propane tanks seemed to be the most common real estate. A more boring and depressing human landscape is hard to imagine. Bakersfield is my definition of bleak. We continued east, still enshrouded in the heavy fog. We are now on our way to Barstow, which is a new route for us in our tireless efforts to find a by-pass around Los Angeles. Usually on our way to Mexico, Los Angeles was a huge mega blockade of human traffic and confusion instilling terror into our hearts as we came down the Grapevine (that last mountain pass just north of LA). Anything was worth finding that by-pass, even driving for many miles out of our way. But this crossing to Barstow was a new route.

Thankfully, we soon left the Imperial Valley behind us and started to climb and in seconds we broke free from the smothering fog into a warm, brilliantly blue California day and no flatness in sight. The land had risen into some kind of ancient eroded mountain range and we were busy crossing it. As we came out on the far side, we were now on the Mojave Desert and with a very different kind of vista stretching out in front us, one covered with tumblin' tumble weed, just like in the song "and they call the wind myriah"....

We were set to arrive mid-afternoon at Barstow, which is a sort of cross-roads at the junction of our 2 lane paved road and the main freeway between LA and Las Vegas. It was 3PM and warm (72F) when we reached the junction. And what a sweet surprise it was. Out of the desert rose a main street lined with palms. A little oasis in the desert.

After a quick shop to replenish groceries, we tootled off to find our camping spot for the night at "Shady Lane RV Park".  Oh my what a treat. A blast from the past. This was a small, immaculate desert park with a sign on the office that gave the date of establishment as 1977. And nothing looked as if it had changed. Strangely enough, on our trip down we had brought the entire series of the "Rockford Files" to watch. We were on series 3 which was shot in 1977/78. And here we were. Expecting Jim Rockford to go spinning past us any moment in his gold Pontiac Firebird Esprit license plate 853 OKG,,,,

Please enjoy our latest novel adventure as we explore a bit of the Old California of Barstow,

Setup for tea outside.