While on the road, the rising sun comes to my sleeping bag around 5 AM. No sense in lounging any longer, as that is a poor stewardship of what the Lord has provided me, another day's life. A few quick rolls, folds and stuffs and all of my last evening's camp is stowed in the back of The Q and we are both ready for a day's travel across the Sonoran Desert, and then into the Mojave Desert.
I travel up from the desert floor, the rising sun glinting off my side-view mirrors as I accelerated into the evergreen shaded slopes of the San Francisco Peaks and into Flagstaff, AZ. A stop for McBreakfast and some watery, completely unsatisfactory OJ. But I'm in no mood to complain to the minimum-wage hacks behind the counter. I certainly don't want to burn any daylight.
The Sonoran Desert is distinguished by the stately silhouette of the tall, silent saguaro cactus, with what I imagine to be a gentlemanly 'howdy pilgrim' from his long cacti arms raised in greeting as I drive past him at straight desert interstate highway speeds. Mr. Saguaro is the classic American profile of the Desert Southwest; but by early afternoon I've left his straight, clean lines in my rear view mirror as I cross into the Mojave Desert.
| Saguaro Cactus A tall and stately inhabitant of the Sonoran Desert Lifts an arm as if to wave to those intrepid individuals crossing a fierce landscape |
In the Mojave I begin to encounter the mid-day silhouette of a wild, unkempt, spiky nare-do-well denizen of the these parts, the Joshua Tree. In contrast to the the saguaro, the Joshua Tree is, bent, hunched and contorted. Early Mormon immigrants thought these shapes looked like the Old Testament Prophet and Military Leader from Exodus, Joshua, beckoning them into the Promised Land. Indeed, the Joshua Tree beckons me across the Mojave and into California, a promised land for many.
| Joshua Tree A wild silhouette welcomes me into the Mojave Desert [Bono also names a hit U2 album after him] |
But just like the Book of Exodus, you pay a toll to enter the Promised Land. My mistake was not lack of faith in the Lord, but for lack of properly calculating where the last fuel exit was in Arizona. By the time I crossed the Colorado River into California, I was at the mercy of the state's outrageous gasoline tax, paying $4.99 per gallon in Needles. Either that, or risk traversing the expansive Mojave on less than a full tank. I paid the price. This day I often thought of the Dust Bowl immigrants who came this way with flimsy cars, no money and only days of misery from heat and dust behind them to wrap around their tattered hopes of a brighter future. My Dad recalls moving from Nebraska to California in 1935, where his father had a good job with the US Dept. of Agriculture; and Dad says he remembers seeing lots of poor, tattered people at the Colorado River and feeling quite sorry for them as their car drove by.
I was stopped at the Ag Inspection Station and I informed them that I was carrying no fruits, vegetables or plants. I was waved on through. My grandmother told me that my grandfather would come upon these Ag Inspections Stations and roll down his window and say, "I'm with the USDA and I know what you're looking for, and I don't have any." He then sped on through not waiting for any repartee from the guy with a badge.
It has been the fabled Route 66 for my last two days... Kingman Arizona, Barstow, San Bernardino - scratch that last leg; I continued west from Barstow toward Tehachapi (veering away from San Bernardino) and then over the abruptly rising mountain and down into the San Joaquin Valley. I thrilled to the sight of oil pump jacks set among the orange groves outside of Bakersfield. Ahh, California - it offers so much.
Once in Fresno, I waited on the lawn for Barth to get off work and let me inside. Wendy was picking up sister Sheri at the airport, who was flying in from Boise.
We gathered for a good meal and conversation. After a day of rest, we would all head for Santa Cruz where Barth was hosting us at a funky B&B. It was going to be a good event pre- and post wedding and great for everything in between. Cheers to Andrew and Katerina!
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