SouthWestSlide: _{Spring 2004}

Phase One_(b)
Rolling from PegLeg CA to Prescott AZ

Every cloud has a silver lining. Thus, every silver lining has a cloud. Are smoke clouds lined with smokey silver? Is it jewelry grade? Some questions remain unanswered, but at least we've reached our first goals alive. Now we can slow down.

Following is the (resumed) account of ... well, you'll see...

Days 5-7: Around Anza-Borrocho
(Saturday 3 April 2004)

Saturday night at PegLeg camp in Borrego Valley. Had a pleasant day wandering about Anza-Borrego searching for gold and other lost treasures. Then in the evening, came out to the PegLeg Smith monument to lie about it. A wonderful liar's encampment except that for the first time in memory it was rained out. Perhaps because I was passing out cards,trying to promote the DRSB website. Divine wrath, etc. But the rain eased up and I got back, lied some, etc. Read my Liar's Contest Entry here.

At the end was a judgement. I came in dead last. Oh well. Much better than I were the old gal who whittled celery, and the little girl who said coyotes ran off with her homework, and the DARPA contractor who used space program resources to track PegLeg's trail across the desert, and The Countess who incorporated everyone else's tales into her own fateful account, and Phil Brigandi of the DRSB group who came in first. He's apparently been doing this a LONG time. A very big liar.

[insert here MY LIES and PHIL BRIGANDI]

Too bad for the rain but it sure was fun. Only the fellow tending the fire was equipped for the rain. It was quite a big crowd until the downpour poured, maybe a 100 people. A combination amateur show and tailgate party. I must come back next year with better lies.

(Palm Sunday, 4 April 2004)

Sunday morning, 4-4-4, PegLeg camp in Borrego Valley. Last couple days we've been floating around in various levels of cumulus clouds. Today they're gone. It's clear and sunny here, early in the morning. Actually I looked up earlier, saw a little nimbus layer off to the south. And even now if ya look out past Yaqui Pass ya can see a little something coming in from the coast there, but in all other windward directions they're gone. Off to the east there's a little bit blowing by, a few broken marshmallow layers over the Salton Sea. But here and now the sun beats hard upon this creosote bush plain.

Lotsa itsy bitsy little grasshoppers hopping around on the desert pavement! And nearby, a Xmas gourd tree. Such a strange mutant!

Sunday evening, Culp Valley camp in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. This morning at PegLeg camp I talked quite a bit with a San Diegan whose brother and nephew are big in racing out in the sand, his mother is Arabian, and that's why he feels attracted to the sand. As if anyone needs an excuse. We lollygagged around Borrego Valley, cleansed ourselves, came up here to Culp Valley in time to catch another not-too-furious but noticable rainstorm. Now it's after dark, the full moon is high, a few planets are noticable, and the sky is totally clear. Many cacti are blooming up here but the season of the wildflowers seems to have passed. Where shall we go now in search of wildflowers, I wonder? Gotta check the Hotsheet next time I'm online.]

(Monday 5 April 2004)

Culp Valley. Very early. Under the full moon, as it's preparing to set, the rocks outside my window, their shadows, look like the face of John F Kennedy with a monstrous tongue protruding!

After sunrise there are no clouds to report; their colors are irrelevant.

Later: sunny all day, windy with a few white cottony clouds towards dusk. Photography yesterday-today, frantic keyboarding (transcribing a week of taped notes) today, likely some image processing tomorrow. Meanwhile, walk among the rocks thinking happy thoughts.

Day 8: Into San Diego
(Tuesday 6 April 2004)

MIDDAY: Culp Valley, rolling out right now. It's around noon, depending on which side of Daylight Savings Time you're on. We did laundry the easy way, took showers back in Borrego Springs and stomped the clothes underfoot with a little added soap - it's just like winemaking except for the soap and shower. Then we came up here, and we have these big honkin' recumbent bikes (which we haven't ridden lately) hung on the back of the RV. So I just took some twine, ran it around thru the handlebars and such, and voila! instant clothesline! We're not dependent on adjacent trees, of which around here there ain't none.

It's been a wonderful stay here in Culp Valley - got some nice photos, got some nice rest, took some nice walks, but now it's time to MOVE ON. Note that I wander around in my cut-off khakis over a red tanktop, and my tan Mundo Maya cap, and I guess it's like ranger drag, people keep asking me questions like I know something. And I have to tell people "I'm not a ranger, I just dress like one." Proof that I'm not a ranger: I'm having a hard time finding the road out of the campground. Oh, this must be it! So we're in luck! As long as we don't roll over in some of these deep ditches.

Let's see, what are the attractions of Culp Valley? Rocks. Cholla. Quiet. Wind. Full moon on the rocks. No campfire smoke - none allowed here. And more rocks.

 Rock-o-rama - That old Borrego treat!
 Rock-o-rama - The flavor can't be beat!
 Pound with rocks to tenderize a little lizard meat!
 Rock-o-rock-o-rama!

DOWNHILL: Crews are out preparing the steep vertiginous road to Borreo for filming. By the way they're sweeping the pavement, it may be a high speed car chase. O boy!

For lunch we reprise at Jilberto's in Borrego Springs. A word of warning: the meat burritos are mostly meat, they do not waste space inside those huge tortillas with much else like veggies, rice, beans, etc. Jilberto's food sure is tasty and affordable. And we look forward to eating our way through this portion of the continent, heh heh.

Back thru Yaqui Pass but this time it's daylight and it's not raining and we can SEE the ocotillo-cholla-barrel cactus forest all around us. Huge encilias in bloom, lots of creosote bushes in bloom, lots of opuntia basilaris in bloom - a splendid, splendid display! Ocotillos are fouqueria splendesens, splendid fuckers - and they certainly are!

UPHILL: Now there's a busload of squealing schoolkids taking the waters in San Felipe Creek, elevation-wise almost halfway to Julian. Crawling back up the grade past Banner to Julian it's easy to see (now, in daylight) that this is part of that 1/7th of the county that burnt last year. Much of the hillsides are entirely stripped of trees. A nice coating of new grass though, growing luxuriently in all the fire ash.

We rise out of the lower desert up this steep canyon, past the yuccas with their creamy blooms, back into ceanothus and oaks and sycamores. And now we're back in historic downtown Julian, during rainfree daylight, and we can see that the burn came VERY VERY close to town, like within a city block. Strolling thru Julian, it looks like the usual collection of cutesy shops. No worse than Jackson, no better than Sutter Creek.

BURN ZONE: South of Julian, climbing into the rugged coastal mountains (the peninsular ranges) towards Cuyamaca (kwhy-MAH-kah), we have a choice of vistas: we can look at singed trees, burned trees, or totally devastated hillsides. The fire here was the largest in California history. The numbers are staggering: 3500 structures burnt, 2200 of'em homes; 125 people killed, US$43 million spent on firefighting. (Compare with the Oakland Hills fire of the early 90s.)

The destruction up here is just immense, Every here and there there'd be a green grassy meadow lined with burnt-looking trees; the occasional green grove that didn't succumb to the flames and much much more that did; lots and lots of reconstruction work; lots of people living in trailers while they're reconstructing.

Well, it looks like we picked the wrong year to camp in Cuyamaca Rancho State Park - it is CLOSED 'til further notice. We can drive thru it but that's all. And with good reason - we're going thru a forest of carbon. Thousands of bare black tree trunks sticking up from brown dead bare dirt.

Besides its woods and lakes, Cuyamaca is known for its rocks - great crags, the Castle Crags of the south. Well, they're still here, with vistas unblocked by foliage. Coming out of the high country the story's still the same - burn burn burn. New spring grass, that's the only stuff that's green.

Meanwhile, there must be a LOT of manzanita around, judging by some of the names on signs we've seen. There's Bobzanita and Pinezanita and Oakzanita. I shudder to think where that could lead,..

EVENING: We slowly cruised out of Cuyamaca down to to InterState Hwy 8, dropped swiftly into San Diego, picked up some AAA maps and zapped on over to Silver Strand Beach on Coronado Peninsula, to find it a parking lot during Spring Break-Easter Week, jammed beyond imagination. Many squalling kids and burning generators and open fires next to gas tanks and heedless humans. So we wended our way up into the hills above San Diego a bit to Bonita CA, Sweetwater Regional Park, which is a delightful place except for the jet aircraft passing overhead every 2 1/2 minutes, descending into downtown Lindburgh Field. But it'll do for the night. Good night.

Day 9: Outa San Diego
(Wednesday 7 April 2004)

Bonita CA - up early in the morning we roll out of Sweetwater Regional Park surreptiously. There's a duck in the middle of the road, rabbits hopping thru the campgrounds, several of them wandering about, cottontails - and we're in the descent path of all the transcontinental jets going into San Diego, that was thrilling. We roll out onto the regional road and there's chickens hanging out there, clustered at the side of the road, a flock of'em.

Yeah, rolling down San Miguel Road here, feels like old Los Serranos in the Chino Hills. Except there's more trees here - palms, tall shrubs, mesquites, paloverdes, willow, canyon live oak, huge weeping willows on the downhill side, sycamores. Sweetwater's nice parkland, miles and miles of open reserve interrupted by a couple of golf courses; jogging trail right next to the road here, well-populated. And palms and oleanders of course. Our campground was an equestrian camp, two corrals at every pull-thru.

Ah yes, the cloud cover: lighter in all the distances, darker overhead, mildly textured like faded custard, curdling around Mother Miguel peak and far beyond.

MIDDAY: San Diego, ai-ai-ai! San Diego is, well the freeways are laid out OK and it's a pretty clean, pretty metropolis, but we feel uncomfortable trying to tour it in an RV. So we take care of some business and LEAVE. So I'll say NOONISH, that's when we're leaving. Ah, we stopped in at, we had breakfast at AUNT EMMA'S House Of Pancakes, very tasty and a lot of it, what's the phrase? "An omelet the size of a sailor's forearm." Yeah, Aunty Emma's is very definitely Mexican-American, three Mexican newspapers and one English-language paper in the newsboxes at the door. The omelets are served with fruit or frijoles, and ya also get a short stack of big pancakes, all included for a special low price. A muy grande big honkin' thumbs-up.

Also in San Diego we picked up some supplies and some electronics - a new AM/FM/CD to replace our old car radio that crapped out over the last couple years, and a new cellphone to replace the one I forgot to bring. Now if I can just find a modem cable I'll be able to go online and upload all these notes, some pictures, etc.

Now we're out of town, heading east on CA Hwy 94 thru non-freeway zones, thru rugged border country that we've never ventured thru before. A new experience. Time to change out of the coastal fog clothes and back into the desert rat cutoffs.

And what do we talk about as we roll down the road? Why, often we just read signs at each other. Jamul Market, Meat & Produce - Veterinary Clinic - Taco Shop - Tae Kwan Do - River of Life (that's a church) - Discount Cigarettes - Solar Mining - Jamul Flowers. Chanting the evidences of civilization...

Afternoon, we roll across southern San Diego County through wonderful rocky mountainous country, thru a few small villages, around many steep curves. We took the road down to Tecate, didn't quite feel like crossing the border to see what the Mexican city is like. The hamlet on the American side is no great shakes. Went a few miles north of there and now we're at Potrero County Park, a flat valley oak woodland inundated by Canadian torurist in big RVs trying to recover from the shivers. We may take a respite here, stay over a couple nights.

In a way we were very lucky to find a site because of the double whammy - Spring Break and Easter Week. And I don't think any of our immediate destinations are having anything in the way of Pascua festivities. So if we're lucky we may get to skin and roast an Easter bunny and Petrushka can nibble on the tender parts. But we'll see no alfombres in the desert varnish, no processions down the Butterfield Stage Route. On the plus side, there probably won't be many pickpockets wandering around the Salton Sink. So we'll miss everything this year but maybe next year we can do the BIG ONE in Seville Spain. Or will we be around Machu Picchu then? Only time will tell.

I just realized this is the first campground on this trip that we've taken that we're paying for, and our first ever with hookups. We're not going to sneak out in the morning. We're not dodging rangers, concessionaires, owners. We're not being kept awake by the roar of traffic on the ground or in the air. We must be going soft.

(Thursday 8 April 2004)

Potrero Park. Nothing worth mentioning. Lay around doing nothing. No, that's not right. OK, I have a redefinition. We aren't just laying around doing nothing, we were "on retreat." And this isn't a permanent vacation, it's a "lifelong spiritual awakening." Yup, that's the ticket.

Day 11: Good Friday in the Desert
(Friday 9 April 2004)

Potrero: Rolled out of Potrero County Park Campground (elevation circa 3000 ft) this morning, nice and sunny up the neighboring hill (elevation circa 4000 ft). We took the loop road around the Potrero Valley up thru some splendid country, only a little of it via dirt road. RUTS!?!? You call those RUTS?!?!?! Why, I've SKATEBOARDED on ruts worse than these!

As we drive thru the high chaparral and yucca and opuntia, we look out upon the coasal fog laying over the lower desert with a few mountains sticking up here and there. Directly west of us is Mother Grundy peak, I don't know what the mountains are down in Mexico. This is really a splendid little side trip around greater metropolitan Tecate.

We are surprised. We were expecting stinkin'desert. Instead we get very heavy very dense chaparral, very green, with of course lots of rocks sticking out. Oaks abounding. Did I mention that the campground is next to a Christmas tree farm and a winery? And some dumbass kids who ride ATVs around in slow circles all day.

Campo: Needless to say, Border Patrol presence is heavy in this stretch of road, this portion of the state and nation. Whew, a huge Border Patrol parking lot in Campo!

At Campo we're looking forward to the San Diego Railroad Museum, which occasionally runs excursions to Tecate BC and Mexicali and elsewhere. But it's closed and the society's phone doesn't answer. Bummer. Check their website for schedules.

Jacumba: And we roll downhill into Jacumba [ha-KOOM-ba] and then thru the Jacumba Wilderness, breaking our new CD player with its first disc, MORE CAJUN CLASSICS. (Cajun music plays.)

At the end of Hwy 94 we had a pleasant stop at the Desert View Tower, which is a curious old stone structure, five stories high, from which we have a grand 360° view of the haze covering the Imperial Valley, and all the rocks that're around there - lotsa big rocks up there, including some naturally and human carved ones that one can crawl thru, the 'caves' there - a LOT more fun than the cave on Tom Sawyer Island in Disneyland. I wish Dad had brought me HERE as a kid.

Descending: Rolling downhill from there at the 3000 foot level, we go thru a vast wonderland of broken rocks, down to the 2000 and 1000 foot levels - and before too long, zero foot and sub-sea-level levels.

Now crossing the Yuha desert, the domain of ocotillos and creosote bushes and smoke trees and mesquites, and a damn miserable place to be stuck in the summer. We just passed a sign proclaiming a NO MIRAGE AREA. Ok. Yes, I believe we are now in the stinking desert.

We cruised thru Calexico at midday, stopped for an excellent fish-taco lunch - but where? It's a secret. Then we cruised on across the bottom of the world.

Felicity CA, mid-afternoon, the Center of the World. This place, a few miles west of Yuma, is officially recognized by the Imperial County Board of Supervisors, the Republic of France, and the United Nations. Huh? There's a little pyramid here, looks like they're building a really BIG pyramid back behind it. In front there's a boulangerie and general store, very nice modern buildings that are closed. One is not supposed to approach this little pyramid alone, groups only, and you MUST be insured to enter the little pyramid. And you could buy the insurance at the general store if it was open. Huh?

Between the pyramids are triangular long walls a meter high, polished black stone with names and images inscribed. One section has names of the Council of Sages. On the far side are the names of everyong in the graduating of Princeton, 1949. Huh? On other walls, we have a memorial to US Marine Corps and Navy casualties in the Korean War; the French Foreign Legion; two families, one French, one Yankee; and the history of French aeronautics. And there are modern residency buildings. Lots of money here. Why, and why here? The world wants to know. Oh yes and there's the Desert Bowling field, the Flower Checkers square, and the Felicity Sundial which is an arm pointing towards the sky. Huh?

Mid-afternoon, Yuma. A week ago at this time we'd just finished a VietNamese lunch on a rainy day at Lake Elsinore and were heading towards Pala and then on to Borrego. A year ago, one calendar year, we were getting ready for Chris and Mayari's wedding the next day; one liturgical year, it was Good Friday (which is what today is) and I was getting my pocket picked in Antigua.

Yuma Yuma Yuma. We'll have to come back in January when there's nice weather.

Evening: Now we're out at Tumco in the shadows of "the only mined discovered by a mu-ule" as John Penn sings. We drove across the highway to Gold Rock but they're on Arizona time - closed. So now we're campered within earshot of the rail line. I scrambled to the top of a 500-foot rockpile and surveyed in all directions. And there were all directions out there. So then I scrambled back down and luckily didn't kill myself. In the dark. We're at the edge of the Cargos Muchachos Mountains, which means "Loaded Kids" referring to a couple of Mexican gold miners coming into camp with their pockets stuffed with nuggets. The usual beautiful vegetation is all about us, blah blah blah.

Day 12: Up Towards Prescott
(Saturday 10 April 2004)

Holy Saturday, Holy Smokes! We're heading north from Tumco, having spent a most pleasant warm night there campered at a Colorado Desert trailhead. The Cargos Muchachos to our right, Los Algodones to our left. And when I tried to call out on our new cellphone last night I got messages in Español, so maybe we're only in a Mexican cell area.

Meanwhile we're driving past the ocotillos in full leaf, and roadside graves or commemorations, memorials of a head-on collision four years ago. And more. I'm taking pictures of these monuments to tragedy. Has anyone done a picture book of roadside memorials? Blue mountains and the Palo Verde valley lie ahead of us - who knows what the day has in store?

Yesterday, let's see, we had four roadside attractions and three were closed. The San Diego Railroad Museum in Campo, the Center of the World in Felicity, and the Gold Rock 'tourist attraction' west of Tumco. But the Desert View Tower was sure worth it.

We roll steadily along desert trails to the lush Palo Verde Valley, rich agribiz land by the look of it, and on into Blythe, which looks like it's had much better (and cooler) days than today. Then across the mighty Colorado River. Hasta la vista, California.

MidMorning - We're rolling thru Quartzite AZ, a couple months late for all the doings here. What becomes a metropolis around the new year is almost empty now. Interestingly there's a big billboard up for Microsurgery Vasectomy Reversal - Results Guaranteed! Oops, we forgot to stop at the Hi Jolly memorial - search the web for a picture - claim it's ours.

And proof that we're in Arizona: there are sahuaro cacti around, in combination with the ocotillos, the cholla gardens, paloverdes and mesquites, the brittlebush (encilia farinosa).

Noonish: Out on US Hwy 60 towards Salome (Where She Danced), the desert ground is brown and gray, just above it it's all green with lots of yellow blossoms as far as we can see.

We stopped for Hope but we blinked and we missed Love. We stopped in Salome (Where She Danced) and it was most disappointing, no relics left of Dick Wick Hall, just exploitation.

Early afternoon, we're cruising across Grace Valley, west-central Arizona towards Wickenburg and the Hassayampa River. The cumulus in the sky has turned a nice blue-creamy carpet; thunderstorms are possible before the end of the day. It's much more pleasant here than down by the Colorado River, weatherwise, temperature-wise, civilization-wise. Not so great in August of course, but this ain't then.

Then into Wickengburg to reload, pee in the Hassayampa, ogle the statues, and leave.

Late afternoon - We rolled northwards out of prosperous-looking Wickenburg, ah looks like the thunderstorms will cut south of us so we won't have to worry about the huge damaging hail and devastating winds that are predicted for Phoenix.

We crossed the Hassayampa River but I didn't drink from it so... I'm not a liar. No matter what that certificate that sez I am sez. Oh and there's kangaroos hopping along the road. Wearing cowboy hats and bandannas. Tough-lookin' varmints, too. That's all the truth, I swear it! Now there's a UFO overhead. I can see the pliot thru the window and, My God, it's ELVIS! And he's got Michael Jackson wih him!

And a little ways north of Wickenburg, we know where Santa Claus died! Right here! I have pictures to prove it!

Evening: We crawled up many steep grades after Wickenburg, over immense vistas and thru quaint towns - split Congress and extensive Yarnell, gotta go back there when something besides the St Joseph Shrine is open. Thru more burnt areas and finally into a USFS campground just south of Prescott. Out of the heat. Chilly. Refreshing. G'night.

To Katie
by the Reptyle Kid

Chloride Kate, on a Summers Day
Fed the Tourists that Passed This Way
Beneath her Hair was a Smiling Eye
and in her Hand some Apple Pie
Singing She Worked in her Merry Way
like a Chorus Girl on Broadway
But when she glanced Acrost the Road
where the Greasewood and the Cactus Growed
The Sweet Song Died and a Vague Unrest
made her Weary of the Golden West