LEAVING NEW MEXICO TO NORTHERN CA.
Campsite at Elephant Butte Lake, So. NM
Elephant Butte Lake, So. NM -A rumble began and the rainstorm came in, cooled the land as Alice and I settled in for our first nite. On the way to the trash, I dropped the keys which fell into a grate. Since every door was locked on the van, hence no cell phone, I walked to the camper parked next to mine as Danny, a race car/motorcycle driver, drove his ‘tricked-out’ cycle into a candy-apple red trailer with a skull and crossbones image and FASTER ‘N HELL RACIN’ BIKES written on its side. “Take phone and get TRIPLE A out here, little lady. They’ll help you out.” As I waited for AAA, I listened to racing stories from this muscle shirt clad tatted-out mechanic whose red bulbous nose rivaled any in existence, as Betti, (that’s Betti with a ♥︎ over the “i”) did an amazing job of balancing on super high wedge sandals, walked in and out of their camper. The final door slam happened as we heard, “I am ready to roll, Danny.” They rolled, I waited, AAA came, I got the spare keys and left in the morning.
With Tucson in the rear view mirror, we continued on to my sister’s house near Prescott where Alice found a new friend!
♪ A long and winding road that leads to your door, will never disappear ….♪ looped through my mind as I motored on and on and on……..thoughts of “who in God’s name would voluntarily move out here and STAY.” The Mojave Desert as described on the brochure is “Singing sand dunes, carpets of wildflowers…” well…I missed that entire photograph.
Brief thoughts of staying at a Mojave campground in the higher elevation floated in my mind, but it was so friggin’ hot that Alice, myself and Mabel pulled into an RV RESORT comprised of blue-tinted water in a pond with ducks on it, a 10′ kidney shaped pool, a phone booth that had seen better days 20 years ago, campsites with salt-cedar trees providing some shade over the sand and astro turf that probably came from the first baseball field Joe DiMaggio ever played on. With the van plugged into electricity, the A/C turned on, I waited until late evening before taking Alice on a walk in the plastic-bag littered desert decorated with Bud light beer cans.
The next day, after another 180 miles or so of driving 65 mph, which is usually my minimum and now my max speed(!) which leads to supreme test of patience(!!!!) —– Mabel gets 13 MPG @ 65, …. I saw the Sierras:
Bishop, California (east central CA), pop. 4,000 +/-, snow on the mountains, low 90s in this area, which was sweater weather at that point. Visiting relatives as Alice plays in the creek behind their house.
Sprouts growing in a 5 tier container on the dashboard! Next stop: Oregon’s coast.