Barstow, and Beyond
Anne
hooked us up with the Barstow Calico KOA, located a few miles east of
Barstow
central. The RV Park was just a few blocks off of I-15. We were settled in by
2:30pm. This KOA is a most well-furnished park. There is a well laid out tent
area, complete with safari tents, set up and ready for a large group;
individual tent sites, each with a fire pit, table, and pent angular sunshade;
nicely shaded pull-through hookup sites, cleanly furnished bathrooms and
showers, and a large fenced area corralling all kinds of well-built children’s
play structures.
On
the western side of a line of trees, which provide shade for the tent area, is
a campground archery range. At the far end of the range, past the 50 yard
marker, there is a six foot high sand berm. Hay bales were stacked at the 20
yard marker. A picnic table is placed near the shooting line. This is the first
opportunity I have had to do any shooting on the trip.
Our
plan was to put up for a few weeks at Joshua Tree National Park. However, Anne
couldn’t locate an RV Park with a site available for our size of rig. She
found, instead, a full hookup site in the San Bernardino National Forest, at
the Serrano Campground, on the shore of Big Bear Lake.
California
highway 247 took us 34 miles south of Barstow to Lucerne Valley. At this
junction we crossed onto highway 18 to go into the National Forest. Highway 18
is not a happy road. For the last 10 miles we were climbing on a grade of from
8% to 16%. The road snaked around sheer cliffs. Curves were posted as slow as
10 mph. At the top we were
greeted by Big Bear City, boasting a population of
over 6,000. I thought that to be pretty amazing. Big Bear City hosts a person
for about every foot of elevation above sea level. In the last 24 hours we had
gone from -282feet to 6,814feet.
The
sky was a crisp blue. There was no dust haze in the air, or pollution. The mile high air was brisk. There were
patches of snow on the ground. After only one wrong turn, and a harrowing
return to the highway through tight residential streets, thanks Dash Bitch, we
soon found the entrance to Serrano Campground.
A narrow road led to the entry guardhouse where we checked in.
The
attending Ranger had Anne’s reservation for Site #47 on the Snowberry RV Loop.
She cautioned us to disconnect the toad before entering the RV Loop. The Ranger
had been correct. The Snowberry RV Loop was narrow and pine forested. Anne led
the way to the site and walked back to guide me clear of rocks and trees as I
backed in. We are here.
After
a small bit of adjusting of the hydraulic jacks on the paved slip, we were at
our home for the nest week. A squirrel popped out of a hole beside the RV. It nodded a brief welcome, and then it dashed
back down into its warren.
By
late afternoon the sky had clouded. The temperature was 42F. During the visit
with the Ranger, she had said the mountain was expecting to get up to a foot of
snow in the next couple of days. When Anne asked about driving back down with
the snow, the Ranger responded with a short giggle. She said the park would be
kept cleanly plowed, but we were going to be here until roads were once more
clear. I guess it’s time for Death Valley Bob to change into some long pants,
and put on the boots.
The
RV features a residential heat pump for normal heating and cooling. This is ok
when you are in a full hook up site, as we are at Serrano Campground. When you
are dry camping, without hook ups, you can’t use the heat pump unless you are
running the generator. The RV has two auxiliary heating systems; one is used
just for the bathroom and bedroom, the other is a whole coach heater. Both use
propane, which is a limited resource on the RV.
The
first night at Serrano the temps dropped to the low 20’s. The heat pump wasn’t
happy trying to suck usable warmth out of those near Artic conditions. We
closed off the front of the coach and turned on the bedroom’s propane system.
Several nights at these temperatures would leave us without enough propane to
cook breakfast.
In
the morning I looked up Big Bear City grocery stores on the GPS. I found a
Von’s, and off we went. The prices at Von’s were very good, so we loaded up. At
the neighboring hardware store I bought a 100w heat lamp, a 1500w portable
space heater, and a small, foldup snow shovel. The heat lamp will keep the
pipes in the outside water compartment warm, the space heater will keep the bedroom
warm, and, I am hoping, the snow shovel will be a throw away.
This
morning we awoke to a cloudless, deep blue sky. During the course of breakfast
we were treated to the sight of three Stellar Jays. They hopped around in the
snow, foraged in the rusty, round steel barbeque pit, and pecked at fallen pine
cones. With a beak to tip-of-tail length of 12”, these are good sized birds.
The birds
had just flown away, when we spotted a coyote cautiously passing our site. The
coyote was carrying a squirrel in its mouth. The animal looked well fed and was
probably in much better condition than the ones that serenaded us at Stovepipe
Wells. The coyote kept a steady pace as it arched around the RV, giving us a
wide berth. It kept its eyes straight ahead, but its tail hair appeared to be
fluffed fuller than it should have been. I suspect the tail was displaying the
coyote’s state of readiness for fight or flight.
Anne completed the top for another quilt. She
had also sewed an eye catching table
runner. She wanted to drive to Big Bear
City and visit a fabric store. She needed to buy some complementary backing and
batting for the quilt and runner. We queried the Dash Bitch and found a quilt
store next to Kmart. On the way, I caught a couple of pictures of the lake. The
city and ski slopes are in the background.
Big Bear
Lake was inhabited by the indigenous Serrano Indians for over 2,000 years prior
to discovery by gold mining explorers in the mid eighteen hundreds. The
Southern California gold rush, from 1861 to 1912, caused the population to
swell. The lake’s name came from the Grizzly bears which habited the region
until 1908. The San Bernardino National Forest was established in 1907. It had
been recognized that the natural beauty of the region was being decimated by
the logging of its vast stands of old growth timbers. Big Bear Lake is now a
gemstone in this mountainous forest land. Serrano Campground is located on the
north shore of the lake.
After Anne
finished her shopping, we drove around the lake. We discovered what a
wonderful, and fun filled place this region would be during warmer summer days.
Both sides of the road display countless numbers of very fancy, resort type
homes. There are, smattered amongst the more wealthy, a large variety of
well-maintained summer cottages. As we approached the south shore village, the
business side of the lake came prominent. This is an entertainment haven, for
all seasons. As we took in the sights, we agreed that one of the more stately
homes must belong to the chainsaw artist who carved the bear figures. Featured
as greeting totems at nearly every home and business is a wooden bear, waving,
holding a sign, or pretending to be climbing a wall so it can have a look into
a shop window.
Now, as you beg for sleep that
night, wonder some what-if’s. What if I had been on the outside of that 10 mph
curve? Would my combined sixty feet of length have been able to complete the
corner without segmenting into a portion of the other lane at the apex? I know
that on the inside, if I had turned any tighter I would have scrapped the side
of the RV on the protruding stony edge of the bank.
We had spent a week at the Serrano
Campground. Sunshine from the last couple of days had guaranteed we wouldn’t be
driving on snow packed, or icy roads.
Anne and I decided we would not tow the CRV down the mountain from Big
Bear Lake. Some of the corners had just been too tight.
The most convenient path to our
next stop, Desert Hot Springs, was to go back the way we had come, and link up
at Lucerne Valley. We kept in touch using walkie talkies. We had missed many of
the vistas on the way up, likely due to the fact that they either weren’t
observable, or because we were trying not to think about what was on the other
side of that very small guardrail. On this sunny, Friday morning the sights
were magnificent.
A short highway bypass between
highway 18 and highway 274, took us past a sprawling solar farm. This extensive
array just sat there, staring at the sun all day, collecting free energy. I
can’t imagine how much power must have been generated. We stopped near the
farm’s entrance and connected the CRV. The unwritten law about mountain driving
had held true, but I was prepared for it.
It would take us a little more than
an hour to drive to Desert Hot Springs. I had Googled RV parks in the greater
Palm Springs area. Current events in the valley found the vicinity pretty well
booked up. The Indian Wells Tennis Tournament is currently in-play, as is the
Bob Hope Classic Golf Tournament. The Sands RV & Golf Resort offered first time
visitors a nine day stay for the price of one week. This cost was the best rate
in the valley, so I booked us in. Driving to the Palm Desert region, the flora
changed significantly. Cactus became prominent. I know there is a botanical tie
to the name which was given to the region, but there may also have been another
reason it is called the Yucca Valley.
The Sands Resort has it all; 9 hole
golf, tennis/pickleball shuffle board, horseshoes,
pool, and spa. There are
over 200 sites at the Sands. All of them are full hookup, back in spots. Some
of the sites are occupied by Resort Homes. These are mobile homes which are
offered for purchase; so one can, “Start Living the Dream”. We are lodged at
Site #441.
Temperatures have been in the mid
to high 80s and the RV’s heat pump has had to work non-stop. It feels good to
sit outside beneath the awning, when the near constant winds aren’t trying to
rattle it to bits. The sites are hedged with oleander. This tall fence provides
late afternoon shade for our outdoor respite. Anne spent a good part of Sunday
preparing a Mexican meal which we will share with tomorrow’s dinner guests, the
Sullivans.
Mike and Sue Sullivan live in
Medford and are staying in Rancho Mirage. They have come to the desert to
attend some of the Indian Wells tennis matches. Mike is a custom home building
contractor and Sue used to be an elementary school teacher. Anne and Sue go
back many years as friends in tennis. The two have also shared membership in a
pinochle group, formed from a clutch of likeminded tennis ladies.
Mike and Sue had golf and tennis to
do tomorrow. I have always enjoyed Sue’s cheerful company. This had been my
first opportunity to visit with Mike. They are a fun couple, and I hope we will
get together often to share in conversation and games. Next time, I know, the
card gods will be behind the rings on their side.
We
subscribe to DirecTV at home. I had removed one of the receivers from the
house, and I have been using it in the RV. I bought a SWM TV antenna, on a
tripod, and at several parks I have tried to align the dish to the DirecTV
satellites. With an app on the IPhone, I can easily spot the satellites, but it
is an endless task, trekking back and forth between the antenna and the TV, to
get everything tuned. The other day I received some gentle nudging from Anne to
buy one of the self-tuning, carry out antennas.
I located an “Antenna’s Our Us”
store which offered what I was looking for, at a good price, and with free
shipping. The Wingard G2 arrived via FedEx at our site yesterday. The G2 is
easy to set up and I had it in place and powered in just a few minutes. Connect
the supplied coax to the receiver. Connect the supplied power wire to the
antenna. Set the DirecTV receiver to the recommended selection. Plug the power
into an aux 12v receptacle, and listen to the G2 whir and hum as it aligns to
the satellites. At the TV hit tune, and in a couple of moments it’s done.
We have all
heard of the “Desert Graveyard” for airplanes. The vast square miles of Mojave
Desert was early recognized as a perfect non-corrosive storage site for the old
bones, both commercial, and military. The Palm Springs Air Museum brings some
of the history of those artifacts back to life. The museum is located at the NE
corner of the Palm Springs Airport, on Gene Autry Trail. Anne and I spent a few
hours yesterday touring the museum.
The Air
Museum is really a history of WWII. The building is two very large hangers,
joined by a lobby in the middle. The Pond Hangar presents the history of the
Pacific Theater, and the war with Japan. The Cravens Hangar displays aircraft
and memorabilia from the European Theater, and the war with Germany. The
aircraft in each hanger have oil drip pans under their noses. They are
regularly maintained.
The Pond
Hangar brings one current on the reasons for Japan’s Pacific aggression. This
is done through timelines, murals, and photographs. Planes of the war are
arranged in the center of the hangar. Around the perimeter are: WWII
battlefield weapons; scaled, hand-crafted models of America’s warships;
surrender documents; and even, a display of Bob Hope memorabilia. Following the
attack on Pearl Harbor, two things became readily apparent: aircraft carriers
would play a much larger role in warfare than had previously been envisioned, and
the success of carriers would depend largely on the skills of well-trained
pilots. A massive plan was instituted to qualify 45,000 Navy pilots. Training
one how to fly was the easy part, but they couldn’t spare using any of the
Navy’s five, in battle carriers for the necessary training on how to land at
sea.
The Cravens Hanger took us to the
European war with Germany. The memorabilia around the walls seemed to focus
more on highlights of individuals, and smaller infantry units. While the other
hanger left one with a feeling that machines could do it all, these displays
brought you into the reality that both war fronts were often carried down to
hand-to-hand survival combat, in the mud. Heroes were greatly highlighted in
WWII. There were over 200 Metal of Honor recipients in the war. Later to become
a film star, Audie Murphy was America’s most decorated soldier of WWII.
The price for admission to the Palm Springs
Air Museum is $14. This amount bought you a white wrist band. For a few dollars
more, you could buy a red wrist band. The red band permitted you to go to the
rear of the hangers and climb aboard the B-29 Superfortress, Fifi. Fifi is the
World’s only flyable B-29. Anne celebrated her 60th birthday party
inside a C-97 at the Medford airport. The C-97 is the freight hauling version
of the B-29. Neither of us wanted a red band. However, for just an extra $500
one could purchase a ride on Fifi. Well, maybe on another day. Ever wonder how
some things end up where they do? I pondered that question, in regards the Air
Museum. No matter. The museum presents an excellent history of America’s
involvement in WWII.
The next morning, I was outside
tidying the area around the RV. An RV wash &
wax, detail man was coming
tomorrow to give the rig a dressing. In the background I heard the distinctive,
and familiar drown of the huge engines of one of the borate bombers which fly
out of Medford during the fire season. As the noise grew louder I looked up,
and I saw Fifi. She was flying at about 2,000 feet, on an upwind departure into
the Coachella Valley.
The road to Joshua Tree National Park took us
back through the city of Yucca Valley to the town of Joshua Tree, at the Park’s
NW entrance. The Park is nestled between several small mountain ranges. The
alluvial planes between the mountains have created vast desert basins. The Park
has almost 600,000 acres and it is a transition zone between the Mojave and Colorado
Deserts. Entering from the west, you are at 3,000 feet and immediately thrust
into Mojave Desert landscape. Expanses of Joshua trees fill the planes. The
trees, which aren’t really trees, grow about twenty feet apart. From a
distance, their average height of 15-20 feet gives one the impression of
looking over a very dappled lawn-scape.
The Mojave side of the park is a
rock climber’s dream come true. Huge piles of granite boulders and cliffs are
everywhere. The granite, Pinto gneiss (nice), was upheaved eons ago by volcanic
activity. Underlying magma cooled, cracked, and continued to rise. It was
exposed to groundwater weathering, which worked on the angular edges of the
fragmented blocks. The result is stacks of granite scattered everywhere, like
careless piles of toy blocks.
The Park has many campgrounds and
points of interest. We stopped at Hidden Valley, a legendary cattle rustlers’
hideout, and walked the looping trail among massive
boulders. When you get out
of the car, there are a lot of special things to see. Anne walked the mile long
loop, while I fossicked and photographed plants and landscape. Sadly, pictures
don’t do justice to the awesomeness of this environment.
The transition between the Mojave
and the eastern Colorado Desert landscapes seemed quite abrupt. We drove from
sand colored gneiss boulder piles into hills which looked like the dark, jagged
piles of tailings from quarry mining. The flora changed from Joshua tree
groves, interspersed with Pinto pines and Cholla cactus, to a scene of Creosote
bush, struggling patches of weed, and an occasional Ocotillo cactus. The baron
Pinto Basin stretched for miles. The 50 mile long park road links up with I-10
at the south center of the National Park.
Saturday night at the Sullivan’s, sounds like
a TV soap series, for cards and a Barbie. Mike and Sue had rented a home at
Mission Hills, in Rancho Mirage. Mission Hills is a private, gated, country
club community. Upon clearing the guardhouse, the very first thing
Anne and I
noticed was how lusciously green are all of the yards. Somehow, this walled-in
estate of homes had tapped into a secret, unlimited supply of water. Sullivan’s
home is banked on a small lake. The kidney shaped lake is rimmed at the thirty-yard
line with similar, stucco style homes.
Ducks, coots, and a water fountain are active, nonstop in trying to keep
the algae burdened water from turning a darker green. From the tiled, awning
covered decks to the water’s edge, spread succulent groomed grass.
The banker, who owns the home, has
a golf cart. Mike and Sue enjoy golf, as well as tennis. They had driven the
cart to the Club’s golf house, only to be turned away, and scowled at for
having the audacity to ask to play; with no membership, and arriving in such a
non-upscale vehicle. They told us the tennis courts were also out of bounds for
non-members. However, Mike reckoned, when there is no one around, whose is
going to complain. And, what if they do?
Sue’s new deck of pinochle cards
worked in their favor. We had told them they would have a card-god turn around,
and they did. Anne and I were severally whooped. Oh, well. Who wanted to play
this damned game, anyway? The sun was below the trees. It was time for dinner.
Chef Mike lit the Barbie and prepared a dinner of just right, juicy chicken
breasts. During the meal we watched a distant neighbor lady run off her deck,
swinging a broom, and shouting at a flock of black coots on the lawn. She
scared them back onto the water. We were told that the birds would eat the
sprouting grass, and that would cause the lawns to brown. Mike said he enjoyed
throwing at the birds a few of the colored glass beads he found in one of the
many terracotta urns which decorated the deck. He agreed with me that a slingshot
may work better.
Sunday morning was a lazy event. After egg burritos and a crossword
puzzle, we drove to the Sands’ reception office to extend a couple more days.
Connie Davis-Young is another fine, and fun tennis friend. Connie and her
husband live in Long Beach in the winter and in Central Point during summer.
She and Anne have planned to meet for lunch on the 17th. So, our
stay of a nine-day week has turned into twelve. For guys it’s a book and a beer
on the sofa; or, a wrench with some grease, in the garage. But it is never,
“Shall we meet for lunch in a week, say, at Palm Springs?” Women are such
social animals. I won’t say anything. Anne would just tell me that if I were to
plan beyond the refrigerator, then I, and my men friends, could be enjoying
something beyond a tinny, in the man cave. I won’t offer her the opportunity to
disparage the joy that we guys share.
Anne’s lunch and tennis with Connie
went well. They were able to watch some
singles and some doubles matches. She
was weather beaten and exhausted when she dragged herself into the RV this
early evening. Although there is a high
degree of jazz in the air when one watches sports live, at the arena, there is
definitely a higher degree of comfort when the event is seen, close up on a
wide screen, in an air conditioned room.
By 8:30am we were caravanning up
the mountains back towards Yucca Valley. The most convenient route to Barstow,
and then on to Las Vegas, was highway 274. Anne reserved the night of the 18th
at the Barstow Calico KOA. By 11 o’clock were set up in site #13. Anne took the
hamper of clothes and sheets to the laundry room, and I took my bow and arrows
to the archery range. She soon joined me, and I hurled 50 carbon fibers at my
six inch paper plate.
I knew the metropolitan freeway
scene was going to be a little hectic. Before we set out on the three hour
drive from Barstow, I verified the routes we were going to drive to have us end
up, comfortably, at Sam’s Town Casino & RV Park, in Las Vegas. Anne had set
up reservations for two nights, and she had called Ian and arranged to go out
to dinner Friday with him and Rebecca. This was going to be a fun couple of
days.
Boulder RV Park is laid out like a
playhouse. There are three long rows of pull-through sites, which could be the
theater’s stage. At stage front and center are restrooms, showers, pool, and
spa. This orchestra pit is surrounded by six arced rows which create a fan of
back-in sites. Unlike traditional parks, which are platted in a rectilinear
grid, the grid at Sam’s Town sets a stage for entertainment to follow. Site
numbering began at 1209 and went up to 1499. We were placed at rear stage
right, in site #1337.
I met Anne at the casino for a
buffet treat at dinner time. I found her parked in Penny
Lane. She was doing
very well, but was getting bored by her particular machine. Anne selects slot
machines which have bonus rounds. At the moment, she was watching the bandit
spin through pull #47, of 103 free spins she had accumulated during a single
bonus play. After each spin, the machine beeped and played a tune before
getting on with the next whirl. Somewhere in the mid-80’s, Anne was awarded
with another 19 free spins. The good thing about bonus rounds is that an ante
amount isn’t subtracted from your stash with each spin. Each free spin doesn’t
always add to your wallet, either. However, at the culmination of 122 bonus
spins, Anne had added over $60 to her purse. Now, Honey, can we get something
to eat?
Ian and Rebecca knocked on the door
a few minutes before seven for our Friday night out. We visited a bit, and then
loaded into the CRV for a drive up Flamingo. Ian had made 7:30 reservations at
Roy’s Hawaiian Restaurant. Anne turned the car over to Ian, and she and I sat
in back. During the ride, we learned a lot about the preparations for their
upcoming May nuptials. The event will be held in Temecula, a lush wine growing
region near San Diego. Perhaps the last place a Las Vegas couple dreams of for
their wedding is Sin City, itself. After
hearing more of their plans, the promise of fond memories are pretty much in
the sack.
The time at Roy’s was great. We
visited about family and the future. Rebecca works at a large Windermere Realty
office. We learned that she is first generation American. Rebecca’s mother came
over from England. Both are eager to travel more, and Ian’s software design
work permits relocation anywhere, so long as he has internet access. In their
immediate future, they will be honeymooning for a bit in Orlando, and Disney
World, and for a short time in the Florida Keys. After dinner we returned to
the RV, visited more, and shared some Merlot. Ian and Rebecca have found
complimentary partners in one another. I have no doubt that the family will
greet Rebecca with open arms when they get to welcome her into the Duncan Clan.
We were too close
to dear friends, Judy Mooster and Phyllis Chaney, living in St. George, UT, to
not visit. The drive to St. George was two hours from Las Vegas, on I-15E.
Sunday morning we put some fruit and snacks in a bag and headed out. We enjoyed a few chapters of Walt Longmire’s
escapades in Dark Horse, by Craig Johnson. When one is traversing mind numbing
desert starkness, a modern Western thriller speeds the miles by.
Judy has a home in the western most suburb of St. George, an adult
retirement community called Sun River. Judy and Anne have been great friends,
and tennis partners, for many years. Judy has switched to the less physically
demanding pickleball, in lieu of tennis. She has become very involved in her
community, and has even rankled her 92 year old father, Fred, and Diana, to buy
into Sun River. It was energizing to hear all of the fun activities a
well-organized retirement village can offer.
Phyllis lives on Lizzy Lane. She had told Anne that she sleeps late and
that we shouldn’t come to get her for lunch until 1:30. Phyllis’ late husband,
Cliff, was my flying mentor. Cliff was 94 when he died. He was a flight
instructor to the end. Cliff was so close to achieving his desire to be a 100
year old flight instructor. Phyllis has been working at downsizing from her
elegantly furnished home for the last couple of years. She shared over lunch
her difficulty with that task. Phyllis is a very creative craft woman. When her
craft urges took over her conscious being, she would stock up on whatever
materials she might need. That was reasonable. However, Phyllis bought supplies
with the assumption the purveyor may go out of business when she needed more
stock. As a result, the home is packed with excesses.
Phyllis’ favorite restaurant in
St. George has always been Izzy’s. This is where we had our lunch. Izzy’s is a
favored eatery for Anne and Judy, as well. They both love the fish tacos. We
enjoyed a long, lazy lunch hour. When we took Phyllis home, we all dug in and
helped empty cupboards in the garage. Phyllis no longer had a car, so we neatly
stacked boxes on the floor. This was clearly a first step toward downsizing.
However, when a second step would be taken was up in the air.
We said our goodbyes to Phyllis and drove Judy back to Sun River. If
either of us competes in the Huntsmen Senior Games this fall, we will be able
to start where we left off with these two great friends.
There are other RV park choices along the way, but Tonopah Station is
such a convenient way point. We left Sam’s Town at 11am. We arrived in Tonopah
at 4 o’clock. We followed a 5th wheel rig into the twenty site lot
at the rear of the casino. We quickly grabbed one of the remaining four sites. The
other spots were rapidly filled. Tonopah Station doesn’t take reservations. We
were very lucky.
The city of Tonopah is in the mountains and it is at 6,200 feet
elevation. There was a
quick breeze blowing, and the air was chilly. After
leveling the rig, and getting the outside stuff all hooked up, I dug the space
heater out of the closet. Tomorrow, it would be back to wearing long pants.
Paperwork needed to be done. The engine needed to be warmed and idled
for a length of time. Finally, the Dairy Land delivery man was ready to pull
his tractor and trailer away from the receiving dock at the rear of the casino.
We were unable to complete a left turn from our site until the truck was moved.
There was really no huge hurry. The drive today is going to be to Fallon, which
is 170 miles north of Tonopah. We would stay one night at the Fallon RV Park.
The next day we drive north, past Reno, and spend our final night at Susanville
RV Park. Large, distinctly formed, and widely spaced clouds tried to fill the
expansive desert sky, while the setting sun painted a soft yellow-red onto
their edges.
We have arrived at camp with time to spare, and have watched the setting
sun. There was always a tinny in the fridge, when the driving has been done. My
lovely wife has ridden shotgun, as we have seen the West unfold. There is more
of America yet to see, and more of the story to be told.
No comments:
Post a Comment