Mojave National Preserve
April 2016
We were on our way by eight-thirty in the morning making a quick stop at the Kenwood market for a half gallon of milk. Walking into the store I passed by the fruit and vegetable department and Fuji apples caught my eye. I used to eat an apple a day everyday and had dropped out of the habit. I bought two. A couple hours down the road I ate one. Oh my! I'm going back to the one-a-day apple routine when I return home.
I recently came across my ancient Sony hand-held tape recorder and brought it along as to try it out for keeping notes while I drive instead of trying to write on my notepad then attempt to decipher the shaky road influenced scrawl later on as to what I had wrote down. It is hard to write and drive at the same time. Probably not safe either. Well it worked well reviewing my thoughts on tape when adding to the journal on the laptop at the end of the day.
It was good to be back on the road again. I hadn't realized it was almost a whole year since our last outing. That was back in May of 2015 when we made those trips down to Twentynine Palms looking at the desert homestead site. That following fall Sinbad's health began going downhill and we didn't do anymore road trips. Now he was doing fine and was his normal self on the road once again. He sleeps most of the time. At the end of the day where we stopped for the night he wanted out. He just stood there, looked around and decided that was good enough and went back inside. Not even a roll in the dirt which was his usual act. Maybe it was just another aspect of being older now.
We stopped at the Harris Ranch turn-off on I-5 for lunch at Carls Jr. (known as Hardee's east of the Rockies). I always go to Carl's for fast food. Their hamburgers are the best of the lot for the fast food places. I know, I've tried them all. I guess because they flame broil their patties? So when I walked in ..oh the humanity! I don't get out enough, especially at fast food places. It is nice to have the motor home to come back to eat my lunch in rather than sitting amongst all those noisy people. I tried something different this time–a Western Bacon Burger. It was very good and even had a couple fried onion rings in it. That plus an order of fries and a medium drink took care of my lunch and dinner for the day. Even at seven P.M. I still didn’t feel like eating anything. It was a nine-hour drive to the rest stop at Boron east of Mojave, my usual stopover. Not bad for an old man and his old cat.
I slept real well but had really weird dreams which are usual after a long days drive. I wasn't hungry for breakfast (guess the burger was still churning in my stomach) so we started out on our way. The wind was fierce but coming from behind I logged good fuel mileage at twenty mpg. We stopped in Barstow to top off the half-empty tank then continued on to the Newbury Springs turn-off onto Old Route 66. I made a third stop to check of the tires thinking I had a low tire. The tire check revealed one of the tire air extension valves on the rear dual had come loose from the clip and was hanging freely between the duals. I noticed a Subway sandwich shop and picked up a foot-long for lunch, well really it will be two lunches. I could barely understand the Indian gal, and I don't mean Native American either.
This portion of Route 66 is not maintained in any way and the road was rattling pots and pans to no end. I passed an intersection for the Interstate, saw a sign ROUGH ROAD NINE MILES and turned around to get back on I-40 for the rest of the trip to the Ludlow turn-off. At that point Route 66 is much better and I putzed along watching for a good gravel road to turn off onto, one better than the one I used last year. I found it. This led to a nice flat area which was significantly further from the railroad and Interstate than before. I made camp, ate half of my foot-long then set up my shooting gallery. The Savage .22 I had repaired and then had to take back to the gunsmith now worked great. I was able to get the sights adjusted and this will be my go-to .22 now. I wanted to wait first and see if it was functional and now I will add a sling to it once back home. Next up was my new Smith & Wesson .22 semi-automatic handgun. It needed some sight adjusting but once that was done I amazed myself at some of the groupings I was able to get at sixty to seventy feet hand-held. This is a fun little handgun.
I wrapped up the shooting around three and picked up all my brass I could find unlike some of the schmucks before me. The wind continued picking up with thirty to thirty-five mph gusts. I finally had to retreat inside for the remainder of the day. I almost lost the awning and was just barely able to get it rolled up in time. I knew better than to leave it out, but had done so anyway. I was to suffer greatly for this mistake.
By high noon I was worn out for the day. The wind blew all night long. If it ever let up, I didn't know it for I had to put ear plugs in to silence out the swishing noise from the nylon bike cover just outside the rear window where my head is while in bed. I drove down to Amboy Crater where they have a nice flat paved area which would be nice to work on the awning. Fortunately the wind wasn't as bad there so this was a plus. I fought with the awning for nearly an hour. I never could get it to roll in all the way on its own. The wind had torqued it the day before. Finally I was able to get it completely back into the casing not without breaking the sun-baked brittle plastic end cap by prying a screwdriver against it. At least it was in and would stay put until I returned home and hopefully fix it to roll in properly all the way I ate breakfast then drove away going about thirty-five to forty mph all the way, just enjoying the scenery and the drive. There is always little to no traffic on old Route 66. That is why I like it so.
I saw on my map a BLM area called Trilobite Wilderness, south of the Mojave National Preserve border on the south side of the Interstate. That would be cool to find some trilobites; I guess they are there or why would it be named so? There was a nice graded gravel road and within a hundred yards a good campsite. The wind wasn't too bad there either. I decided to get the new Motoped down and take it out on its maiden voyage in the dirt. Think a beefy mountain bike with a motor fashioned after the Honda 90 and that is what the Motoped is.
Well I could see why this model is called the Survival Bike. I learned a lot in only three and half miles. Being only 49cc it is all it can do to make it up a graded hard-packed hilly dirt road. If I got a good run at an uphill things went better. Handling was bad. Basically it is squirrely as can be. Standing up on the pedals helped but it is nothing like riding a motorcycle where I could use the power to keep stable. I really had to pay attention to where I was going. I thought possibly letting some air out of the tires might help some. I then tried some off-road travel. In the soft sand it struggled. I dropped down into a sandy wash and was unable to keep up any speed which consequently made handling worse. It was all I could do to remain upright and not crashing. I finally got off the bike and walked alongside while the motor propelled the bike. Naturally all the while this was going on I imagined what if I were in a survival bug-out situation? In that scenario, stick to the roads, the flatter the better. Worst case would be having to get off and walk the bike but at least I wouldn't have to push a loaded a bicycle; I have a motor to do the work. And too, whatever distance covered for the day one I would be much more worn out on a regular bicycle having gone only half or less the distance that what I could do on the Motoped. I just needed to realign my thinking. It is NOT a motorcycle.
I woke up to a very strange sound. Silence. The wind had stopped blowing. Finally! This would make for much better conditions to go for a hike in. I was hoping to find the correct type of rock for trilobite fossils such as an outcropping of shale but all the rock in the area was igneous–volcanic. I stumbled around the slopes for two hours plus and when I returned back to the motor home I had only logged in 1.7 miles with no trilobites. There were very few wildflowers and only a couple of cacti in bloom. I found more cacti with wilted flowers indicating I was too late. I made everything ready to pull out then took the 7.62x39 SKS out and fired off twenty rounds. I had found an unbroken clay pigeon and set it up around hundred feet out and nailed it on the fifth shot, hand held from a standing position. I can live with that. I love this Soviet rifle.
Just a few miles up the road we crossed under I-40 and entered the Mojave National Preserve. A sign pointed out the Kelbaker Road was closed from Kelso to I-15. Well I guess we're not going that way. There were several enticing dirt roads branching off from the pot-holed Kelbaker Road, great for one of my old Land Rovers I used to own but not a twenty-three foot long Winnebago View. It was lunch time and I was hoping for someplace to pull off the road but found nothing until we reached the turn-off for the Kelso Sand Dunes. Three miles along the nicely graded gravel road were some suitable camping spots with several people already camped out. This would do for the night. After lunch I went for a little walkabout but just didn't have any energy. I had been this way every day. Good grief is this what old age is all about?
Find of the day: On that gravel road I saw what looked like a gray sweatshirt hanging off a creosote bush. Hmm... I backed up and stepped out. It was in fact an REI cold weather garment in very good shape. Wow, this is quality. Back in the motor home I looked at it more carefully and you would think it was brand new. Only problem was that was a size small. I tried it on and fit perfectly yet snug. Earlier I had wished I had brought my hooded sweatshirt and was thinking I should buy one to keep in the motor home. Now this would be my motor home “sweatshirt”.
It was cold that night and I eventually dug out my new backpacking sleeping bag and crawled into it. It warmed me up except for my legs which I didn't understand. In the morning I discovered that the lower zipper was wide open. Sheesh! We left camp and back-tracked the dirt road one mile to the trail head for the sand dunes. Once ready I took off soon discovering there wasn't anything to see that I hadn't already seen back at camp. I was figuring it to be some sort of nature trail with numbered informative posts. Nope. So I turned back having no intention on filling my shoes with fine grit sand.
Continuing on the gravel road toward the highway I saw that the GPS was not on. Sometimes I don't get the plug pushed into the cigarette light far enough. Push, nothing. I pulled it out and pushed in again. Blank screen. Now what?! The light was on the plug-in so the juice was flowing. There was one little button to push on the unit and whatever it is for, didn't help. Great! I grumbled on down the road about having to replace the GPS, driving home without it–I can find my way home, it’s just nice to have the constant read-out of information−and finally thinking maybe I can pick up a used one on eBay for cheap. Well, things could be worse. Like the girl who was camped near us that had to have her car battery jumped at the start of her day.
At Kelso the Kelbaker Road was closed and traffic detoured onto Cima Road. The paper map showed fewer dirt roads off of Cima but maybe we would luck out. Still thinking of the GPS the thought occurred to me about the iPhone and iPad requiring one to hold the on/off button down for fifteen seconds to re-boot the device. I wonder? I pulled over and depressed that one and only little button holding it down for...and by the count of ten the GPS resurrected itself back to life! Hallelujah! Everything was back to normal except missing the ten to fifteen miles of recorded information from the sand dune trail to Kelso.
Another ten miles or so I found a dirt road we could safely drive on which provided several nice camp spots away from the highway. This would be home for today. It was almost noon. I thought I'd try the Motoped on this dirt road so I took it down off the rack, dressed for a chilly ride and took off. Nothing changed from the previous ride. That and I realized it was the handle bar throttle grip that was aggravating my wrist. I would to have to change the handlebars or at least do make adjustments. Even a simple thing like lowering the seat may help to alleviate the pressure on my wimpy wrist. I put the bike back up on the rack and covered it up. I was done riding for this trip. I'd stick to what worked best for me...walking. [Back home I lowered the seat over an inch and pushed it as far forward as it would go and went for a short ride finding it felt much better. I built up the grips with some rubber and tape as I did with my mountain bike thus making for a larger grip which too was an improvement]
I ate some lunch and changed into my hiking clothes and took off on a walkabout across the highway where a trail head led to Teutonia Peak. I had no desire to climb it. I'd rather wander around the desert. I did find what appeared to be an old prospector's camp with all the rusty tin cans scattered about but that was about all. Back to the motor home I had had enough for the day. A cup of tea, some cheese and crackers, catch up on the journal, relax and read for the remainder of the day.
It usually takes me a few days to get in the groove on a road trip; a place where I'm comfortable, settled in and operating like a well oiled machine. Today was that day. We were rolling by eight-thirty and soon discovered it was only ten miles to the I-15 under crossing. A small patch of the Mojave Preserve lies north of the interstate and I was hoping to find some suitable camp spots there. Pretty much all the dirt roads off of Excelsior Mine Road were not RV friendly. I turned around at the power lines which pretty much designated the northern most extent of the Preserve. To continue on any further I would be entering Death Valley from the eastern side. Coming back at a small hilly area the road passed through I saw something that might work out off to the right. I had missed seeing it going north. This would do, only a hundred feet from the road, and would not be an issue as after a half a day being there less than a dozen cars had passed by.
I immediately went for a short walk leaving the camera behind which I soon regretted. Well, I would just have to go out again. I explored someone's “camp” on the back side of the hill−a strange set-up. There were no structures except for a broken down camper off to the side. The guy must have had ten to fifteen handsaws of all types and styles lying about. He had a fifty-gallon drum stuck full of long items like a mop, fishing poles and crutches (several pairs of different styles) among other long items. Another fifty-gallon plastic barrel was full of water. There were five-gallon buckets all around filled with items you'd have absolutely no use for in the desert such as plumbing fixtures for example. There was even an old Seagull outboard boat motor lying there in the dirt. Those are highly sought after by collectors of antique fishing paraphernalia. There were cases of empty beer bottles including a case of champagne bottles, a few looking yet to be uncorked. He had a round wire cage where he tossed his empty food tins. I looked to see what he ate. Most of them were Alpo dog food. I hoped he had a dog.
Back at camp I ate a snack then went back out with the camera this time, to photograph wildflowers as there was quite an assortment compared to previous camps. I discovered a ten-inch long rubber T-Rex dinosaur on the hillside, just lying there on its side. What are the chances of that? He was still in good shape and I wondered about the little boy who had lost him and just how did he do so? Well I soon learned. I had set him up for a couple of photos then stuck him in the pocket of my windbreaker. Several pictures later he was gone. He must have fallen out when I stooped down to take a picture. I went back to look and amazingly I found him. Back in my pocket he went. Not much later I realized he was missing again. Damn! I looked all over for the longest time and figured he was meant to stay wherever he fell. I finally located my two previous photo spots and then finally there he was at the last stop. This time he went into my pants pocket.
After lunch I did pretty much nothing for the rest of the day except read my book and relax enjoying the peace of the desert with not that much wind and temperatures in the seventies. My only option now was to go east from there and drive back into the Mojave Preserve on the Morning Star Mine Road or the longer Ivanpah Road but I figured I'd save that for next time. I'd head west and if I didn't see anything between here and Barstow that was camp-worthy I would probably continue on for home making one overnight stop along the way.
We were on our way around seven-thirty and I pulled off at Baker for breakfast. I thought I'd try Carl's sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit to compare with McDonald's Egg McBisquit or whatever it is called. Oh boy, what a BIG difference! Carl's/Hardees were much better. It has a big-ass scrambled egg in it and looks like real egg too, not some wanna-be egg like the clown makes. So that thing sat in my stomach all day long thus my skipping any idea for lunch. I just nibbled on some peanut butter and Ritz crackers in those little snack packs and a small soda as I motored down the highway.
The day seemed like it went by fast. At my scheduled stop at Santa Nella (three hours from home) it was now four-thirty and I was done. Four hundred and one miles of driving for the day leaving me with a sore back, stiff knees and more. It sucks getting old. I have this special spot I always layover at near a fancy motel with usually no truckers or maybe one or two at the most. That's okay as long as they aren't reefers which require an engine running constantly keeping what is in side refrigerated. It is just a short walk for some Chinese food at Panda Express.
I slept well that night!
The orange chicken, chow mien and fried rice dinner was oh so good and was still with me in the morning so I skipped breakfast and left around seven-thirty. It was a good day to drive the final three hours to home. A rare day in fact with no wind, especially going over the Altamont Pass where all the wind machines creating electricity stood still. In fact there was no wind anywhere along the entire way home from the desert. I had tailwinds all the way going and calm to nothing coming home. This was great for the fuel mileage as I chalked up another twenty mpg when I had filled up in Tehachipi.
It was a good trip although tiring in some aspects. I really need to not drive so much. I later realized that the Mojave Preserve just didn't provide as many hiking an exploring opportunities as other places in the desert. I think I was feeling at a loss as to what to do at times. And maybe too it was just a matter of having been so long since we last went anywhere. I didn't know. But I was already looking forward to going again soon even if for only just another short road trip.