![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Mojave, CA
Jan. 19th, 2012 11:06 pmThis day of travel started off a bit rough.
At eight in the morning, I was roused from a sound sleep by the sound of someone hammering on the hotel room wall right behind my head. Needless to say, I was not happy.
Unable to sleep, I got up, took a shower, dressed and packed. Outside, I was amused to see a fine layer of frost on my car windows. I pulled out my ice-scraper, which I kept after leaving Alaska last year, and cleaned off my windshield. Other hotel patrons stood around, gawking at me as if they had never seen anyone do anything like that before.
I proceeded to the Grand Canyon. Now, as you all know because I've repeated it often enough, I am not a 'nature tourist.' Seen one tree, seen 'em all. More or less. That said, when I reached the Southern Edge of the Grand Canyon I was impressed. The view was, indeed, quite lovely. But after about fifteen minutes of it, I'd had enough. I went to the Visitors Center, which was a big disappointment, and took one of the scenic drives through the park. Eventually, I left and got on I-40 again, continuing westward to the Promised Land. :P
Western Arizona was a desolate wasteland, like driving across some terraformed version of Mars. At one point, it was just me and the road. No vehicles around me, no buildings or telephone polls or wind turbines. It was actually a little unnerving.
Eventually, I reached the California state line. Did you know they stop everyone entering the state to check for fruits and veggies? I didn't. I felt like I was entering another country.
Eastern California did not impress me. The roads were shoddy, pitted and potholed, and the countryside was trashy. I passed garbage bags on the side of the road, just tossed there at random, saw swathes of shattered glass gleaming among the desert scrub. Also, I passes several milk jugs that looked to be filled with either very weak tea or urine. Given human nature, I'm thinking it was most likely urine.
After a while, I passed through small towns. Needles. Ludlow. Barstow. They had all the charm of Wal-Mart parking lots.
At Barstow, I left I-40 and headed west on CA-58. Here, the landscape changed. It was cleaner, the plantlife lusher. The sun was hazed, the temperature in the high 60s. I made random stops. This place for gas, another place for a bag of chips. At one place, I rummaged through two square acres of antiques.
As the sun set, transforming the western sky into a collage of purples and oranges, I pulled off CA-58 into Mojave. Only 287 miles to go!
At eight in the morning, I was roused from a sound sleep by the sound of someone hammering on the hotel room wall right behind my head. Needless to say, I was not happy.
Unable to sleep, I got up, took a shower, dressed and packed. Outside, I was amused to see a fine layer of frost on my car windows. I pulled out my ice-scraper, which I kept after leaving Alaska last year, and cleaned off my windshield. Other hotel patrons stood around, gawking at me as if they had never seen anyone do anything like that before.
I proceeded to the Grand Canyon. Now, as you all know because I've repeated it often enough, I am not a 'nature tourist.' Seen one tree, seen 'em all. More or less. That said, when I reached the Southern Edge of the Grand Canyon I was impressed. The view was, indeed, quite lovely. But after about fifteen minutes of it, I'd had enough. I went to the Visitors Center, which was a big disappointment, and took one of the scenic drives through the park. Eventually, I left and got on I-40 again, continuing westward to the Promised Land. :P
Western Arizona was a desolate wasteland, like driving across some terraformed version of Mars. At one point, it was just me and the road. No vehicles around me, no buildings or telephone polls or wind turbines. It was actually a little unnerving.
Eventually, I reached the California state line. Did you know they stop everyone entering the state to check for fruits and veggies? I didn't. I felt like I was entering another country.
Eastern California did not impress me. The roads were shoddy, pitted and potholed, and the countryside was trashy. I passed garbage bags on the side of the road, just tossed there at random, saw swathes of shattered glass gleaming among the desert scrub. Also, I passes several milk jugs that looked to be filled with either very weak tea or urine. Given human nature, I'm thinking it was most likely urine.
After a while, I passed through small towns. Needles. Ludlow. Barstow. They had all the charm of Wal-Mart parking lots.
At Barstow, I left I-40 and headed west on CA-58. Here, the landscape changed. It was cleaner, the plantlife lusher. The sun was hazed, the temperature in the high 60s. I made random stops. This place for gas, another place for a bag of chips. At one place, I rummaged through two square acres of antiques.
As the sun set, transforming the western sky into a collage of purples and oranges, I pulled off CA-58 into Mojave. Only 287 miles to go!
