A Windy Day in the Desert
At 12:30 PM on the first Sunday in October, we departed Casa Carrie in Simi Valley, California, bound for Quartzsite, Arizona. Our overnight stay would be the Holiday Palms RV Park in Quartzsite. As always, the first day of a Four Corners tour is a bit stressful. What have I remembered to pack and what have I forgotten? As it turned out, I forgot the charger for my Bluetooth headset and… my engagement ring.
From Simi Valley through the San Fernando, the San Gabriel and the San Bernardino Valleys, I listened to LA News on 1070 AM. The Sheep Fire at Lytle Creek, in the San Bernardino National Forest had broken through its lines and then burned toward the mountain town of Wrightwood, east of Mt. Baldy. As I transited east on the 210 Foothill Freeway, I listened as if I were in the old days of radio. The paid firefighters and the prisoners-of-the-state camp crews cooperated to create firebreaks and to lay fire hose lines up impossibly steep grades of freshly bulldozed earth.
White Bear, the DC-10 air tanker made one run, laying fire retardant down on crucial terrain. The P-2 Neptune and the P-3 Orion, both built by Lockheed, Burbank in mid-century could not overcome the masking effects of the swirling wind. Within thirty minutes, fresh winds cleared the ridge-views for the tankers to drop their loads. The same cold front catapulted me east on Interstate I-10 toward Needles and Quartzsite. All of this took place with barely a touch of the accelerator pedal on my Titan truck. The billboard-shaped back of my pioneer travel trailer caught the wind and pushed me forward.
When at Casa Carrie, I can hole-up for days at a time, driving nowhere at all. Then, the next trip to the desert takes shape in my mind. Will it include Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, Durango, Colorado or Canyon De Chelly National Monument, Arizona, if not the North Rim of the Grand Canyon? That is the beauty of Indian Country. One need not adhere to any particular schedule or route. Here, one’s location is a state of mind.
In Blythe, California, I stopped for provisions at the Albertson’s supermarket. Luckily, we had prepared a chicken stew the night before my departure, so I did not have to rely on their heavy emphasis of deli fried foods. To my dismay, the organic wheatgrass that they stock year round was getting a little leggy. I bought a pint container anyway, wanting it as much for the small lawn I can create with it in my coach as for any nutritional value it might hold.
When I settled in at Quartzsite, my indoor/outdoor thermometer froze at 75 degrees, both inside and out. Several hours later, neither indicator has budged. If only I had a barometer and hygrometer, I could determine if all atmospheric activity had actually stopped.
Quartzsite is 279 miles from Simi Valley. Arriving here with everything I need to survive indefinitely, except for my engagement ring, feels like an achievement. Now that I am on the road, it all gets easier. If I forgot to pack something, I can stop at Wal-Mart and buy it. That type of activity is what keeps the American economy “moving”, if indeed economies move at all.
On Friday, October 9, Carrie will fly from LAX to Grand Junction, Colorado. That day, I will drive from Moab, Utah on U.S. Highway 191 North and Interstate I-70 East to “Junction”. At the appointed hour, I will reunite with both Carrie and my engagement ring.
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