Birthday Trip 2023: Days Seven Through Eleven
Tuesday, June 6th, 2023: 2023 Trips, Colorado Plateau, Great Basin, Mojave Desert, Regions, Road Trips.
Day Seven
I woke Wednesday from a blissful dream, there in my motel bed. It was time to start heading southwest toward the California desert, but after nearly a week in the hinterlands I had some chores to take care of in town: a little shopping, and washing my clothes and vehicle, which was coated with powder sand inside and out. I had a two-day drive ahead of me, following a familiar route. The next night would be spent in another cheap motel in an even smaller town, where there was a laundromat but no car wash. So this morning I decided to make use of the guest laundry here and a car wash nearby.
Afterwards, departing through the old downtown around lunchtime, I remembered there was a Greek restaurant on a block I’d just passed, so I did a quick U-turn, and there it was. So I had an unexpected giro plate to fortify me for the long drive into Nevada.
Ninety minutes south on a two-lane, where I had a choice between a 6-1/2 hour drive on back roads or a 5-1/2 hour drive with the first half on interstate. I knew the back roads would be beautiful, but the interstate would actually be pretty too, and saving an hour was worth it.
While driving, I pondered my trip planning so far. Why do I focus these trips on prehistoric rock writing and paintings? When I resumed my Utah trips in 2008, it was nostalgic, to pick up a thread Katie and I had started in the mid-80s. We used petroglyph images on our band posters, and we both made art either based on petroglyphs or inspired by them.
After 2008 I learned more about the “Fremont” culture to which much of the work is attributed. I came to admire them and my Utah trips became a way to learn more and get closer to that culture.
But the only sites I could learn about remotely – mainly online – were located near or on roads. I’d already visited all the well-known sites, so to find new sites I was forced to spend more and more time driving slowly on bad back roads, competing with other off-road vehicle traffic, and ending up in overgrazed ranchland where campsites were generally poor and I didn’t want to linger.
Throughout this trip my body had craved more hiking, but there were few if any trails or suitable terrain near the prehistoric sites. I finally realized that this “rock art” exploration is just one more complication I need to shrug off as my already overcomplicated life hurtles toward its end. Near the beginning of this trip I’d passed a high plateau with federally designated wilderness which offers a whole network of interesting hikes – that should be my focus in the future. Drive to a wilderness area with good trails, camp there, and start exploring on foot.
Some wet weather was developing ahead as I joined a second interstate and turned south. Finally I reached the turnoff for the back road that led west to Nevada. That’s when things in the sky really got interesting! I drove under a storm that, once I emerged on the other side, produced the most spectacular cloud formation I’ve ever seen.
In the little railroad town where I stopped for the night, I was trying out a newly restored motel that had opened since my last visit. The lady owner had a big placard on the counter with a quote from Reagan on the sanctity of gun ownership, but she was nice, and the small room had the best bed I’ve ever found in any hotel or motel anywhere – even in expensive resorts.
Day Eight
My friend in California had promised a campsite for the next night, and the Nevada town has a wonderful grocery store, so I grabbed a few more things I thought I might need. There were two Harley riders about my age outside, and one asked me if I was heading out into the hills. We had a brief, friendly conversation, wished each other well, and as I was pulling away I heard him say to his companion, “That’s the kind of guy I like – he doesn’t talk your ear off when you try to be friendly.”
I continued south through familiar, spectacular Great Basin country, deciding to avoid the interstate again by way of Lake Mead. This is one of the world’s most spectacular landscapes – as amazing as the Grand Canyon or Yosemite, but off most people’s radar since it’s labeled with the name of a reservoir. Normally you have to pay the park entrance fee to use this “interstate bypass” route, but the toll booths were closed and I traversed it scott free.
Midway through the recreation area I realized I was probably running late. And the last part of my drive was the hottest and featured long steep grades, where my vehicle is underpowered even without the A/C on. So I had to drive at high revs in lower gear, burning gas like crazy, for the last hour and a half down the eastern edge of California, to save time while staying cool.
I pulled up outside our meeting place, the tribe’s new resort hotel, at exactly the same time as my friend. We had a delicious supper, then he guided me to some nearby campsites which should be secluded and pleasant.
They involved driving across a broad wash in soft sand, so I switched into 4wd. I found the first site, on the lake, but as soon as I turned off the engine and got out, I heard buzzing overhead – a drone, flying circles above me. Then it took off north, and I walked toward the water’s edge, rounding a corner in dense vegetation and revealing an old guy with a long gray beard, sitting in a folding chair next to his side-by-side. “That’s not your drone, is it?” I asked.
“Sure is,” he said, nodding. So much for this campsite.
My friend’s second choice was above, on fingers of the mesa that overlooked the lake. I drove back and found a maze of off-road tracks leading up there, also in soft sand. I was afraid of getting bogged down, but the sun had set and I needed a shower, so I bounced upward, and followed a track outward to a point which would’ve made a good campsite, if it hadn’t directly overlooked the old guy with the drone.
So I turned back and drove inland, higher up the mesa, until I found a sort of hollow with enough level ground to set up camp. I laid out my tarp, pad, and sleeping bag and took a quick shower. The moon was now at three-quarters full and Venus was still up in the west, and the lights of the city across the lake twinkled like the campfires of a barbarian horde. I thought I would be okay here, but it was still hot, so I sat for a while enjoying the view.
Finally I laid down on top of my bag. Bugs started to land on me, so I got up and grabbed a flashlight. They were nothing to worry about, but they were annoying.
Then I heard some small dogs barking farther down the mesa. They got closer. And closer, until they were a hundred feet or less away. They were barking at me, but I still couldn’t see them.
I got up and found a stick. I didn’t feel comfortable lying down while surrounded by wild dogs, but I didn’t want to be driven off by them either.
Then headlights flashed out below me, and a four-seater side-by-side bounced up on the mesa, full of shouting, laughing teenagers. It was 10:30 pm, but I knew this was graduation time. The teenagers drove around me in a semi-circle, unaware I was even there, stopping and yelling at various points in the creosote brush. This was the last straw.
I packed up and drove back across the rez to the hotel. My friend had reserved a room for me the following night, but I was able to check in early, and finally got to sleep by midnight. So much for my camping trip!
Day Nine
One problem with a true hotel, as opposed to a true motel, is that they don’t have fridges or microwaves in the rooms. You’re supposed to eat in the restaurant. And rooms are accessed inside, a long walk from your vehicle. I carry my breakfast stuff and the huge variety of personal care items I need every day, in several containers including a cooler, for easy access from the vehicle or in camp. When I check into a motel, I park in front of my room and it’s easy to transfer those things inside.
The tribal hotel room was really nice, but I had to make three long trips to and from my vehicle to get everything I needed to stay there. And for breakfast, I had to make the complicated journey to and from the vehicle to get and return yogurt and fruit from the cooler, since there was no place to keep it cool in the room.
The outside temperature at the lake today was forecast to reach 97, with tomorrow hitting 100. According to experts, the inside of a car can reach over 140 degrees at times like this. There were some things in my vehicle that were going to get ruined – no way around it. I had two bags of organic chips – the unopened one was turned rancid by the heat, while the other was fine. For future hot-weather trips, I should probably move some packaged foods, oils, skin creams, etc. to the cooler. And bring an extra bag to carry stuff into hotels!
The tribal festival was scheduled to start today, but when I drove past the park there was no one there yet. My friend called later, and we met at the empty park, where he introduced me to his son and nephew. The three of us had a great afternoon visit at a shaded picnic table there on the lakeshore. My friend’s son found a devil’s claw seedpod under a palm tree, and showed me how to extract the edible seeds, like sunflower but nuttier.
Day Ten
I felt like undeserving royalty staying in that fancy hotel. My friend came and picked me up the next morning for a tour around the reservation, talking about projects he’d accomplished or was planning. The festival had started and the park was packed, but when he drove in, there was a Highway Patrol SUV blocking the entrance and an ambulance flashing its lights inside. So he turned around, and we had a last lunch at the hotel.
I wanted to get an early start and make it to Flagstaff tonight, to shorten my drive home tomorrow. That meant hours on the interstate. But from Kingman east, the federal highway surface had deteriorated worse than any paved road I’ve ever driven on. There were irregular patches of pavement missing, to a depth of three or four inches, in the right lane, and everyone including big rigs was driving on the left, which was marginally better. These mega-potholes were big enough to cause an accident, to blow a tire or break your suspension! Fortunately my vehicle is rugged, but the stiff springs meant I got constantly bashed and slammed whenever I had to pull into the right lane.
It was like that all the way to Flagstaff, and beyond, the next day.
Day Eleven
A couple more errands to run in Flagstaff, then I was on my way east again by late morning. Winslow has an old Harvey House that’s been restored and turned into a hotel, so I decided to stop there for lunch. It was a fantastic place, but mostly empty at midday on Sunday.
And Winslow, where I’ve only stopped briefly before, is full of old Route 66 motels which have been turned into small apartment complexes. Who lives there?
Mercifully, I was able to leave the interstate soon, at Holbrook, and head southeast through some of my favorite country – a high, rolling sagebrush plateau where I was able to let my thoughts wander back over the trip again.
I mentioned in my canyon campsite that I relish being able to sleep outdoors. But on this trip like on most others, I had a hard time finding suitable campsites, and once settled, encountered serious problems. Heat, cold, wind, insects, intrusive strangers, their pets and devices. In the past the list included rain, snow, flies, mosquitos, and flooding. On this trip I noticed a few flies and mosquitos, but thankfully they hadn’t been a problem.
I’ve researched and considered solutions to some of those challenges but haven’t fully succeeded. One recurring problem is how to find secluded campsites for someone who sleeps on the ground. The only real solution is advance scouting, which is hard when you live a day or two’s drive away!
Other challenges are the distances between stops, towns, and campsites, and the condition of roads. It’s no fun to set up camp and try to cook dinner after you’ve driven six hours or more.
I’m always friendly & curious with local people, but I never stay long enough or immerse myself in local society enough to get to know the people I might need if I get in trouble. That feels insensitive, and limits the amount of local knowledge I get – for example about little-known prehistoric sites. Finding stuff online, or even in books, is really no substitute for local knowledge.
More weather was developing over the Southwest. I drove through light storms all the way, and actually drove into a dust devil west of town – it felt like the whole car was being twisted by a wrench.
Finally, a few miles from home, I was welcomed by a double rainbow, and it started raining just as I pulled in the driveway, turned off the vehicle and got out.
