Turning East

After 13 days on the road, it was time to head towards home. 
One more stop in California:  China Ranch Date Farm.  Located in the Mojave Desert, it's a genuine oasis.  Half the fun is finding it.

 

 

The Hyundai is one tough little car to have endured endless miles of dirt roads.

 

 

 

 

Driving through the mining area.

 

 

 

 

The mine shafts aren't even braced with any supports.  Crazy to think of the risks taken by early pioneers.

 

 

 

 

This is what they sought:  gypsum.

 

 

 The date farm is literally the only speck of greenery amid this desolate landscape.

 

 

 

I bought 9 different varieties of fresh, moist, organic dates at a fraction of the price of the desiccated, old Mejool dates from the grocery store.  What a haul!

This is the reason I hadn't left the hovel the previous night:  food.  I could have driven another hour to Baker, CA, but I would've missed buying my dates.  I could have camped in my car somewhere, but the thought of coyotes stalking Cole again deterred me.  Yes, I put my dog's safety above my own. 

 

 

The date farm has a partnership with The Nature Conservancy, thus providing hiking trails throughout the farm and beyond.

 

 

Dates grow on palm trees.

 

 

 

Cotton bells protect the fruit.  What timing:  it's harvest season.

 

 

Our run was more of a tip toe at times.

 

 

 

The edges of the path crumbled away with each step.

Back down in the canyon, we made our way to a portion of an original pioneer route, the Old Spanish Trail.  What a great morning!

 

 

Post-run reward:  half a date cookie.  This bird would fly into my face to snag a bite.  That level of tenacity deserves a hand-out.

 

 

In Baker, CA, I  had the option to take the interstate, but the car insisted we go cross country 60 more miles through the Mojave Desert Preserve.

 

Glad we did.

 

 

 

My first encounter with a Joshua Tree.

 

 

On the horizon is the Devil's Playground, expansive, tall sand dunes.

 

 

We ran on and on and on.

 

 

Happy boy!

 

As we started our run, I saw a couple lolling around the dunes.  Both had taken their sandals off, you'd think they were at a resort headed to the tiki bar.  She carried hers over her shoulder, her chunky necklace reflected the sun, her gauzy pantaloons flapped with the wind.  They made a beautiful mirage!  French, even at 100 yards, I knew they were French.

 

"Can you see the sidewinder snake tracks all over the place?", I asked them in French.  It took them maybe ten minutes to high tail it back to their car.  Now that I had 'saved' a tourist from potential harm, Cole and I could have miles of dunes to ourselves.  I'm evil, I know!

 

 

 

View from the top of Kelso Dunes. 

 

 

Same picture zoomed in to show the location of my car.  The Garmin GPS watch hasn't been allowing me to download my last runs.  So, pictorial documentation is all I have for the time being.

 

 

 

Surveying my kingdom with my kid.

 

 

He truly is a once-in-a-lifetime dog!

 

 

Tanking up before the downhill run/slide. 

Our timing was perfect.  I can't imagine that we could have done any running if the temperatures had been above 75'F.  The heat refracting off the sand would have cooked us.

 

 

A sign asks you to not take any sand from the dunes.  If said sand voluntarily jumps in your shoes, you cannot be faulted for purposefully removing sand from the preserve.  Lawyer-ese for 'I got a cup of sand for my collection'!









California, Ready Or Not, Here We Come!

After leaving Nevada on Wednesday afternoon, I ended up in Death Valley.  Charming place, actually.  A cold snap had the entire valley about 20'F below normal.  We were able to run and hike without breaking a sweat!

Cole wasn't permitted on the overlook trail at Dante's View, so we hiked higher up another mountain and got the best view of Death Valley's Salt Basin!  Adapt and overcome.

View from 5500 feet.

Shortly afterwards, the view from the lowest point in America, Badwater basin:  282 feet below sea level.  I couldn't resist, I had to taste the ground, it is salty.  I didn't feel so goofy after seeing other tourists do the same.  Indeed, the park was busy, mostly French and German tourists.  Without even hearing them speak, I could tell them apart.  The French were dressed for a Sunday stroll to the café, the Germans could all pass as National Geographic photographers. See Exhibit "A"...

He had this thing shipped over for this "excursion", as he called it.

I had erroneously believed Death Valley to be an abandoned, lifeless place.  Not so, see Exhibit "B":  a resort.  Also in Death Valley:  an Indian reservation, campgrounds and a gas station.

Where do you see these anymore?

 

 

 

Coyotes, bigger than Cole, have lost their fear of humans.  After this encounter, at least 5 local people have told me to watch over Cole that they wouldn't hesitate to take him down.  Gulp!

 

Here's another cool fact about Death Valley:  Badwater Basin was the site of borax mining 120 years ago.  The company's 20 mule team needed 30 days to complete, what must have been under atrocious conditions, a 165 mile round trip to the Mohave railroad junction.  That old fashioned box of 20 Mule Borax, this is where it all began!

 

My road leading out of Death Valley had been washed away by floods.  Oxymoronic:  flooding in a desert.  I lost a couple hours backtracking out and ended up, as usual, seeking a place for the night after sundown.  Let's face it, I'll never learn.

 

A convenience store owner informed me that the only place accepting dogs within 60 miles was a resort in Tecopa Hot Springs.

 

 

This gave me pause for concern, but when I saw at least 8 Buddhist monks milling around, I figured the place to be safe.  After paying for my room, as I was unloading my car, the monks piled into their van and left.  I should have followed them!

 

 

 

I didn't know why they bothered to give me a key, the door didn't lock.

 

 

I found the smoke detector under the bed with an assortment of Skittles and false nails. Cole was instructed to get on the bed and stay there!

 

 

Look what he found in the bed:  someone else's sock.  It gets better.

 

 

Don't you love the expert carpentry?  The closet in the bathroom is where a shower should have been. With no hot water or shower in the room, I had to wander out to find out what was going on.

 

 

 

Statues of nudes were everywhere...it helped set the tone for the resort.  As I searched for the showers/ bath house, I was accosted.  Did I need a massage?  Could I give one?  Did I need company in the hot tub?  Harmless pestering, but persistent. 

 

 

 

The disgusting showers were in the hot tub areas.  We'll pass. 

 

 

 

The famous mineral water hot tubs.  Nothing like a dip in a bacteria vat!

 

I'll stick to my mineral water, thank you!

The available Wi Fi service convinced me to endure one night at the Funny Farm.  Despite all the available hot water outside of my room, regrettably, I didn't get to bathe that day.  I slept in my stinky running clothes, figuring if I needed to make a run for it, I was dressed for the occasion.

 

Cole and I made a sly getaway the next morning.  All's well that ends well!

 

 

 



Nevada Bound

Rain had been on my heels since I left New Mexico.  Monday morning the winds howled at 40-50 mph.  I do not enjoy being tossed around on the road like a feather, so I delayed leaving my overnight spot until the worst had passed.

Zion National Park is the diamond amid all the other Utah jewels.  I couldn't get a photo to capture the enormity of the cliffs, nor the depths of the chasms.

So here's one from Google.  It's thrilling to emerge from a long tunnel through the mountain to find yourself close to the summit gazing out onto this scenery.

The trail by the campground is the only one open to dogs.  We made the most of it.

These rental RV's are everywhere.  It seems like a great idea!  Daddy can you see the 800 number?

Rain chased us out of Zion.

I finally succumbed and stopped by a Rock Shop.  I didn't buy any because it's much more fun finding it on  my own.  At least now I know what petrified wood looks like.

All the shops have the mandatory mounds of glass chunks.  Why?

Cole's thoughts:  "It wasn't for the fence, ostrich steaks would be on the menu tonight".
My thoughts:  "Thanks for the fence, I don't need another vet bill".

In the town of Virgin, UT I stopped by someone's house to buy a jar of cactus jelly.  They rely on the honor system.  No one was around to break a ten dollar bill.

Trying to negotiate with the Gatekeeper.

Mr Smarty Pants was trying to make change with rocks.  I ended up with two jars...he drove a hard bargain.  Someone needs to tell the jam maker that she'll sell more jars if a 100 lb German Shepherd does not jump up on the driver door as you pull in to the yard.  Just sayin'...

Toto, you're not in Kansas anymore!  We had arrived to Nevada.

I did the mandatory visit of the Las Vegas strip.  I considered getting out and walking around, but the sidewalks were too crowded, it wouldn't have been much fun for Cole (or me).  Not my kind of wildlife viewing.  What happens in Vegas, can stay in Vegas.  20 minutes and I was outta there. 
Pahrump, NV is where I overnighted on Monday. 

Tuesday morning, Cole and I did our Nevada run in Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge.  An oasis!

The area is unique because it's fed by constant, turquoise blue springs.  The teeming life here made it home for Indians for thousands of years.  In the 1960's industry came in and almost decimated the entire valley.  Since 1984, restoration efforts have been underway to reclaim the wetlands and surrounding area from years of farming, mining and peat harvesting.

Alkaline fossil water gives the lake its unique color.  Cole had an absolute fit when he saw the hundreds of coots and ducks.  We had to move to another trail...heart attack was imminent.

Miles of new boardwalks prevent people from trampling the fragile desert floor.

A herd of bighorn sheep shadowed us, making it hard for Cole to stay on the boardwalk.  Syncope was imminent, we moved to another trail after a couple miles.

But, not before I plucked an armful of mesquite branches from a burn pile.  Wait 'til I put these in my smoker in Alabama!

Lunar landscape.

The Hyundai is down there somewhere.  Apart from the three rangers at the station, I saw no other people.  Perfect, no one could overhear me talking to all the cacti, telling them how adorable they were!

Happy to have packed Cole's boots for this trip.  These rocks were wickedly sharp and jingled like glass when I would slip and send them cascading down the trail.

Inside a cave well, within a protected perimeter lives the one species of endangered pupfish.  This is the only place in the world they have left.

Heading down to the viewing deck.

That's it:  pupfish habitat. Not much to see, but it was a thrill to me and I got to whisper "hang in there little buddies" down to them.

Sadly, we had to leave Nevada's greatest gem to cross over into California.