November 11, 2013

           Day 19 (Day 4 of the return leg.)
Morning:
           The original post here was out of sequence, so the information was moved to tomorrow. I crossed the Mojave today, keeping an eye over my shoulder for the cold front chasing me back to Florida. By 10:30 AM it was warm and I was down to my sleeveless tee, cruising along those flat, rolling hills and extinct volcano cones. I did make 447 miles today because the driving conditions were virtually ideal.

           Top sight of the early day was the longest train I have ever seen. You can’t make it out so well in this picture, but what you can see is around a half-mile of box and tanker cars. I estimate this train was four miles long, but it was a while driving past before I noticed. I stopped for gas, Techapi, that’s the name of the place, I paralleled this train for miles after it caught up to me.
           The terrain east of Barstow is the dry desert of western films. I only believe I crossed the Mojave, as there was not a single signpost or other clue anywhere along that long, empty road. Well, empty except where there is a railway crossing and the lineups of cars that waited on trains like the one today. I liked this ride and toward the far end, I began to see an older highway to the south. Normally, I veer off and take that route, since my maximum speed is the same on either road.
           Here is the classic photo of the decade. Here is me at Area 51. This is as close as most people get, in one piece I mean. This fence ensures nobody gets a closeup of the central complex unless they sneak in at night. I think this picture captures the mood. And the weather, too. This is what I look like in travel mode on a warm day.

           I soon figured out this was Route 66. I made several honest attempts to get onto it, but in each case it ran into a dead end or back onto I-70 every few miles. Route 66 is neither on my road map, the GPS, or the brain cells of people who live right beside it. Barstow, Needles, Kingman, to Williams.

Daytime:
           I crossed the Mojave to the intersection nearest the Grand Canyon. Looks like I'm finally going to see it. To any ladies who think men should ask directions more often, you should try that in Arizona and see if you still say the same. You see, God took most of the stupid people in the world and put them in Arizona. Ask me and I'll give you plenty of examples. Nobody I asked knew that Williams was the turnoff to the canyon when eastbound. They would direct you to Flagstaff even if you just told them you don’t want to go there. It’s that “freeway cult” thing again.
           Freeway prices will also get you. Everything if five bucks or ten bucks. All amenities are centered on trucking and most are franchises. You’ll see a mom & pop every 500 miles and they can be even more expensive, especially if visible from the freeway itself. I was looking for a coin laundry.
           I found one, but it was already cold and dark and I seem to have misplaced the name of the town. Probably Williams. It was difficult to navigate, as the town once had two main roads. Then the city council made them one-ways. That means half the business signs were now facing the wrong direction for the traffic to read. It is now getting bitterly cold once the sun sets.

Evening:
           I met a gal the the laundry, Sam, who liked the solar panels. She used to work the local train that runs up to the canyon. At $75 per ticket, I’ll drive it. The park fee is $25 (but as you’ll see I didn’t have to pay that price). She told me about some of the horror stories of the train and the hushed-up number of deaths in the canyon. Apparently the company that runs the train is also a pack of yahoos. Sam was very talkative, but also very married. I’ll never understand that.

           By now, it was near freezing. Mid-Arizona is a high plateau and it gets desert cold right after dark. That bites through the very seams of your clothes. It was a day of scenery only, mountain ranges and the eroded valleys between. A great truck route, this photo shows a crop of wind turbines on the horizon. Taken while moving, it was tricky to get that sun to spot in exactly the right location to make this picture interesting.
           The camper pod? I’ll return to that topic as I work out my inexperience and insecurity of this mode of travel. The pod is over-planned, over-built, and over-expensive, but damn, it works great. I pass many van conversions and motor homes every day. Even those are too costly for me. And I certain question the “savings” when I see a $60,000 SUV towing a $40,000 fifth wheel. What are those people thinking? I can usually get a laugh out of the other traffic when I thumb my nose whenever something like that passes me.
           I see these big rigs on the main roads, which seem to have been built out of sight to any great places. I’m usually the only “camper” on the back roads, or the library, or parked right on Main Street, or plowing down Route 720 over the cattle gates. Is what I’m sayin’. Without the facts on what those big rigs cost, I still surmise they are too expensive and cost you a bundle even when not being used. Where do these fancy vehicles go at night?
           Hence, a slightly more elaborate camper is in order for me, as if you didn’t see that coming. I could not have considered this trip out west without the camper, and now it has become integral to all my travel plans. Please don’t laugh at how long it took me—I was unaware of too many things until late in the game. For instance, I did not know if I would be required to stay only at approved campgrounds and it is not like there is anyone around to spell these things out for you.
           Today’s trip was worth it, though the summertime must be brutally hot. I’m poised near the Grand Canyon, the one planned stop on this entire trek, and I do not intend to stay there very long.