This morning, Stephen thought he was going to get an oil change, so he put Jiffy Lube into his GPS. What an optimist! That thing can't find Hoover Dam; what makes him think it can find a Jiffy Lube?
The GPS lead us around to... a tire shop. Oh, so close. But no banana. (Hey, at least it's car-related. The last time he tried to get it to take us to a car wash, it took us to a dance studio.)
Stephen insists the maps are not old - that they're up-to-date as of May 2011. Since the bridge bypass at Hoover opened in October of last year, either they didn't update properly, or Garmin has some pretty crappy maps.
So, we skip the oil change, and head out of Vegas towards Joshua Tree National Park (cause National Parks are free for us!). It's kind of off by itself, so we don't get an Interstate; we have to head south on Highway 95. It's a pretty decent highway in Nevada, but when you cross into California, it downgrades. Also, cheapest welcome sign ever: it's just a standard green highway sign that says "Welcome to California". Methinks California is a bit frayed on the edges.
The other thing you quickly notice is that Nevada evens out its highways so they're relatively smooth. California doesn't bother to fix that. Their highways are like a ribbon - up and down, up and down. Fun at first, but then Stephen fears he's becoming seasick.
This is the far south-eastern edge of California where there is a lot of... nothing. It's bleak and abandoned-looking, and everything is in this washed-out shade of bleached dust.
Stephen and I call this "California's Cannibal Flats." Seriously, it looks like the setting for The Hills Have Eyes. We saw one guy crossing the street in Abandoned McEmpty Town, and he looked hungry. The roadside pullouts that they've provided so that you can look at non-existent views? That's a trap so that the CHUDs can snare the tasty, roly-poly tourists.
The map claims that there are tiny little places we're passing through, but there's nothing there. There's a burned out gas station. No sign of a town. Even the graffiti is weird - teenage zombies have used black stones to write messages on the sides of train track embankments.
Cannibals and/or zombies, I tell ya.
This theory is bolstered as we're approaching the town of Twentynine Palms, which is just before the turnoff into Joshua Tree National Park. Now we see houses, but it's a row of decrepit, tumbledown houses. Shacks and little bombed out structures, and even the road is crumbling. What the hell? This is getting seriously freaky. Fortunately, Twentynine Palms itself seems semi-normal, but I wouldn't want to be living there with the zombie suburbs so near.
When we drive into park, we get info on the trails, and then we mention that we came in through Cannibal-land, and what's with the many miles of shantytown?
Apparently, the government had passed something called the Homestead Act. If people came and settled there, they could get 16 acres of land, with the requirement that they had to maintain a house that was at least 12' x 11'. So, a lot of people did that. And then, once they owned it, what did they do with their 16 acres of dusty land and no water? "Unfortunately, a lot of them resorted to cannibalism. They set up roadside traps for the tourists. You two are lucky you made it through." Yes, we know. Thanks, Ranger! No, sorry, we can't stay for lunch. Next time.
So, Joshua Tree National Park. It reminds me of Saguaro park, except with Joshua Trees, and these weird aggregate rocks. (The hills around here are all just piles of boulders, like they all fell off something bigger. And the big round rocks are all made up of little pebbles. This is an odd corner of the world.)
Stephen and I hike around the Jumbo Rock Park, and check out Skull Rock. Cool! (And also something that cannibals would think of to lure in tourists. I'm just saying...)
It's hot outside. This part of the park is still in the Mojave Desert. We drive up to the Key Point, where you can look towards Palm Springs, and hey, you can actually SEE the San Andreas fault. Did you know that? I didn't know that. Off in the other direction, we see the Salton Sea, which is a man-made oopsie that became a lake (we saw part of that in an exhibit at Hoover Dam).
After that, we hiked through the Barker Dam trail. Some crazy settlers had once tried to set up cattle ranching here. Now THAT's optimism. Way too rocky, way too dry. The ranchers eventually gave up and moved on.
We finally decided to call it a day, and head out of the park towards San Diego. Out of dusty California to exciting California!
We hit our first four-lane Interstate of this trip. Hey, there's a lot of people driving in California. The Interstate is okay, but when we switch off to a two-lane highway (connecting us to the San Diego Interstate), that's when it gets congested. Two tight lanes, everyone driving 120 kph, and we're all a car length apart. "It's like a video game," I tell Stephen. Vroom vroom - get around that semi; dodge that tan van; uh oh, that car is coming up quick behind us, get out of the way--! Speed limit? What speed limit? You drive the same speed everyone else is driving, or you get ploughed under.
We've gone from the barren cannibal-infested wastelands of California desert to the highly-highwayed constant stream of suburbia. Driving around here is taking some concentration. I'm going to get carpal tunnel from gripping this steering wheel, and I'm getting eye twitches from watching for lane changes. Simon & Simon always looked so relaxed driving around San Diego - I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I need a convertible.
We exit on Hotel Circle, which is (you guessed it) a street full of hotels. To our surprise, it's actually a lot cooler here. We're used to it feeling like an oven when we get out of the car, but it's very pleasant.
As you might expect in Hotel Circle, it's stuffed with hotels. That leaves us with a hotel-based restaurant as our only option for supper, or the hotel-based vending machine. We opt for the restaurant, Pam Pam Grill & Cafe. Mmm, California burger.
After that, we start to plan our next few days. I know what you're thinking. 'Plan? They don't plan.' It's true. Except the long weekend is coming up, and we're a bit wary of being caught without a place to stay. We map out the next few days and actually make reservations up to Sunday night. On Labour Day Monday, everyone should be headed back home, freeing up the motels, and we can go back to our standard "drive into town and pick a place" method of travelling.
The GPS lead us around to... a tire shop. Oh, so close. But no banana. (Hey, at least it's car-related. The last time he tried to get it to take us to a car wash, it took us to a dance studio.)
Stephen insists the maps are not old - that they're up-to-date as of May 2011. Since the bridge bypass at Hoover opened in October of last year, either they didn't update properly, or Garmin has some pretty crappy maps.
So, we skip the oil change, and head out of Vegas towards Joshua Tree National Park (cause National Parks are free for us!). It's kind of off by itself, so we don't get an Interstate; we have to head south on Highway 95. It's a pretty decent highway in Nevada, but when you cross into California, it downgrades. Also, cheapest welcome sign ever: it's just a standard green highway sign that says "Welcome to California". Methinks California is a bit frayed on the edges.
The other thing you quickly notice is that Nevada evens out its highways so they're relatively smooth. California doesn't bother to fix that. Their highways are like a ribbon - up and down, up and down. Fun at first, but then Stephen fears he's becoming seasick.
This is the far south-eastern edge of California where there is a lot of... nothing. It's bleak and abandoned-looking, and everything is in this washed-out shade of bleached dust.
Stephen and I call this "California's Cannibal Flats." Seriously, it looks like the setting for The Hills Have Eyes. We saw one guy crossing the street in Abandoned McEmpty Town, and he looked hungry. The roadside pullouts that they've provided so that you can look at non-existent views? That's a trap so that the CHUDs can snare the tasty, roly-poly tourists.
The map claims that there are tiny little places we're passing through, but there's nothing there. There's a burned out gas station. No sign of a town. Even the graffiti is weird - teenage zombies have used black stones to write messages on the sides of train track embankments.
Cannibals and/or zombies, I tell ya.
This theory is bolstered as we're approaching the town of Twentynine Palms, which is just before the turnoff into Joshua Tree National Park. Now we see houses, but it's a row of decrepit, tumbledown houses. Shacks and little bombed out structures, and even the road is crumbling. What the hell? This is getting seriously freaky. Fortunately, Twentynine Palms itself seems semi-normal, but I wouldn't want to be living there with the zombie suburbs so near.
When we drive into park, we get info on the trails, and then we mention that we came in through Cannibal-land, and what's with the many miles of shantytown?
Apparently, the government had passed something called the Homestead Act. If people came and settled there, they could get 16 acres of land, with the requirement that they had to maintain a house that was at least 12' x 11'. So, a lot of people did that. And then, once they owned it, what did they do with their 16 acres of dusty land and no water? "Unfortunately, a lot of them resorted to cannibalism. They set up roadside traps for the tourists. You two are lucky you made it through." Yes, we know. Thanks, Ranger! No, sorry, we can't stay for lunch. Next time.
So, Joshua Tree National Park. It reminds me of Saguaro park, except with Joshua Trees, and these weird aggregate rocks. (The hills around here are all just piles of boulders, like they all fell off something bigger. And the big round rocks are all made up of little pebbles. This is an odd corner of the world.)
 |
| Skull Rock |
It's hot outside. This part of the park is still in the Mojave Desert. We drive up to the Key Point, where you can look towards Palm Springs, and hey, you can actually SEE the San Andreas fault. Did you know that? I didn't know that. Off in the other direction, we see the Salton Sea, which is a man-made oopsie that became a lake (we saw part of that in an exhibit at Hoover Dam).
After that, we hiked through the Barker Dam trail. Some crazy settlers had once tried to set up cattle ranching here. Now THAT's optimism. Way too rocky, way too dry. The ranchers eventually gave up and moved on.
We finally decided to call it a day, and head out of the park towards San Diego. Out of dusty California to exciting California!
We hit our first four-lane Interstate of this trip. Hey, there's a lot of people driving in California. The Interstate is okay, but when we switch off to a two-lane highway (connecting us to the San Diego Interstate), that's when it gets congested. Two tight lanes, everyone driving 120 kph, and we're all a car length apart. "It's like a video game," I tell Stephen. Vroom vroom - get around that semi; dodge that tan van; uh oh, that car is coming up quick behind us, get out of the way--! Speed limit? What speed limit? You drive the same speed everyone else is driving, or you get ploughed under.
We've gone from the barren cannibal-infested wastelands of California desert to the highly-highwayed constant stream of suburbia. Driving around here is taking some concentration. I'm going to get carpal tunnel from gripping this steering wheel, and I'm getting eye twitches from watching for lane changes. Simon & Simon always looked so relaxed driving around San Diego - I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I need a convertible.
We exit on Hotel Circle, which is (you guessed it) a street full of hotels. To our surprise, it's actually a lot cooler here. We're used to it feeling like an oven when we get out of the car, but it's very pleasant.
As you might expect in Hotel Circle, it's stuffed with hotels. That leaves us with a hotel-based restaurant as our only option for supper, or the hotel-based vending machine. We opt for the restaurant, Pam Pam Grill & Cafe. Mmm, California burger.
After that, we start to plan our next few days. I know what you're thinking. 'Plan? They don't plan.' It's true. Except the long weekend is coming up, and we're a bit wary of being caught without a place to stay. We map out the next few days and actually make reservations up to Sunday night. On Labour Day Monday, everyone should be headed back home, freeing up the motels, and we can go back to our standard "drive into town and pick a place" method of travelling.
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