Month: December 2015

Our last morning on the Colorado River (at least for now) was a cold one as we woke up to frost on the ground and the bikes. We broke camp and headed into the nearby town for breky and a bit of warmth. Then if was off for the final push to visit Pat and Cheryl and Harper Lee. Our friends from Kamloops were once again taking in these two homeless vagabonds, giving us a warm place to stay, and treating us royally with good food, beer, and tours of the area.

Their place north of Phoenix is in the heart of the Sonora Desert. They’re house features a huge windowed wall that looks out onto their yard containing cacti of all sorts. Prickly pear, agave, hedgehog, velvet mesquite, and of course the massive Saguaro.

Two things you learn very quickly in this desert. One is how stunning, amazing and other-worldly it all is.  The other is that everything wants to kill you; the animals like the spiders, snakes and scorpions , but even all the lovely looking plants. Everything has huge spines and hooks and barbs. If you ever tripped and fell into a bush they’d be pulling spines from your body for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We spent a few days with Cheryl and Pat and their little cutie dog Harper Lee . We got the grand tour of the area, including a day trip up into the foothills to an old ghost town of Cleator. According to Wiki, Cleator was originally called Turkey Creek, and was established as a small gold mining town. It was renamed Cleator in 1925 after James P. Cleator took over the place.

Today there is little more than a bar up in Cleator, but what a bar! It’s even home to the Cleator Yacht Club, complete with boats and docks and surfboards.

    

We finally said a temporary goodbye to Harper and her keepers and hopped a flight back to Alberta to spend the holidays with family. We’ll be back in Arizona early in the new year to carry on our journey. There are more friends to visit, and plenty of places yet to see. But until then it’s back to the wintery north for a couple of weeks of festivities and family.

 

We said goodbye to modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and hit the road heading south. Unlike most of our journey so far where deadlines are nonexistent, we are flying back to Alberta to spend X-mas with the Phillips Clan, so we have to be settled in Phoenix in time to catch a flight north. We’re staying with our friends who put us up (put up with us 😉 ) back in Kamloops. They have a place just north of Phoenix, and have once again said we are welcome. So we want to arrive in time to spend a few days with them, and perhaps to arrange some basic scooter maintenance in the big city.

Heading south from Vegas we passed by Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam. Ann wanted to see the area, but we opted not to visit the actual dam b/c they wanted money. “To see a damn dam? No way!” says I. Poor Ann… But we did drive by the Lake, and got a good view of the reservoir. Two things jump out. Firstly is just the presence of a large body of water. We’re already used to desert conditions, so seeing any amount of water is odd. Seeing a massive lake in this landscape is actually a bit jarring. But it certainly saves this part of the region from suffering the same drought that is affecting the areas we’ve travelled through so far.

But the second thing that you notice is just how far down Lake Mead is from its high water mark. Apparently the Lake is now at a record low level. The average height is approximately 175 ft above where it currently sits. This is clearly visible even from our view on the highway. I’m not sure what this means for the future, but it can’t be good.

Our destination for this day was a national park campground further down the Colorado River system on Lake Mohave. This campground is nothing like I’m used to in the Boreal Forest. It is desert now, complete with large tumbleweeds (one that almost tumbled in front of me while driving!), lots of palm trees, sharp prickly things that grab and tear clothes and skin, and the oddest assortment of critters I’ve ever seen. This includes the real life roadrunner. And yes, we even heard coyotes in the area.

Like so much of our route, this campground is obviously insanely busy during the peak warmer months. Huge numbers of houseboats, fishing boats, and racey boats are all tied off to extensive docks. There is even a dedicated boat launch driving lane that starts more than a km away from the water. It must be absolutely crazy during the on-season. Right now though everything is quiet and calm … all except the wind which was blowin’ a gale.

Despite the intense wind we decided to head into the nearby Bullhead City to pick up some additional provisions. The Colorado River marks the border between Arizona (where we are) from Nevada. Across from Bullhead is the sister city of Laughlin, but despite being separated by a small stretch of water, the two sides are worlds apart. Bullhead is a pretty normal looking place with shops and motels and parks. It’s a small place, with no building over three of four stories. But right across the river are massive casino resorts, with some hotels towering 20 or more stories. It’s a jarring clash, and speaks to the wealth and seduction that is Nevada gambling.

We spent four nights at this campground. Days were cool and nights even cooler, but we managed to stay warm by bundling up in fleece and toques , and burrowing deep into down sleeping bags . We met some really interesting people here, including a couple from Ohio who had sold their house and were now living the good life, exploring the countryside, while living out of tent and CRV — yes, not an RV, but a car. Too cool! We also met a few motorcyclists, and a few other campers in the area. Everyone has a story to tell. It’s great.

After four days we pulled up stakes and headed south again, this time stopping at a state park further down the Colorado River system. On the way there we passed by London Bridge — yes, THE London Bridge. Turns out some kooky rich dude decided to buy the bridge from London and bring it to Arizona, piece by piece. Why would anyone do this … that is a good question, but one never asked or answered despite the expansive tourist trap that has been built up around the reassembled bridge.

By mid afternoon we made it to just south of Parker Dam, to a nice little state park with campsites right next to the Colorado River. Looking at the topographical maps shows that this is the last area where the River is of significant width. Below this it becomes much smaller, and is increasingly diverted off into a series of canals and irrigation channels. The mighty Colorado is no more.

Camping right next to the water was pretty enticing after our previous site in the desert. It also came with a handy cabana which was great for food storage, as well as getting out of the cool wind that was blowing down the valley. Funny thing happened overnight though. We had just crawled into the sleeping bags and were reading when I heard water splattering. “It’s raining!” says I. How can this be?!? We haven’t seen rain since leaving the coast. Turned out we had pitched our tent in the midst of some underground water sprinklers. The tent got a good cleaning that night.

 

 

The next day was to be the final push to Phoenix and to Cheryl and Pat’s place just north of the city. Here we enter the Sonora Desert; the land of mighty Saguaro Cactus.

We left Death Valley and headed for another kind of hellish place, this one purely made by Man. Las Vegas is gaudy, dirty, tacky and busy … all the things I crave in life. But it is cheap, and it does take us in the right direction. We found a room on the south side of the city in a casino resort.

Gambling is everywhere, so everything is a casino. The hotel is pretty nice, and the complex has movie theatres, a bowling alley, a dozen or so restaurants and bars, and of course lots and lots of gambling tables and one armed bandits.

We ended up on the 20th floor with a glorious view of the freeway, the smog, and the distant hills/mountains. We could even see our little bikes down in the lot below. 

The hotel is fancy in a cheaply tacky way, but the food and beer is good and fairly inexpensive, and the room is quite comfy, so I can’t complain too much. We’ve wondered the gambling halls, and I was somewhat tempted to try my hand at blackjack, but I couldn’t find a table with a low enough minimum. Apparently my ¢25 isn’t enough for them 😉 .

We’re spending two nights here, and then heading back to the land. Ann has found us a campground on the Colorado River, in a National Park. Will be great to get out of this city, and back into a tent.

 

Happy Birthday to You
You live in a zoo
You look like a monkey
And you smell like one too.

😉

Guess who’s birthday it is today? Annnnneeeeeeeeee, my love! Ann turns a ripe old age of the finest whiskey today, so what better place to celebrate than in a valley where hints of mortality surround. The Furnace Creek Ranch is a pretty ritzy place for our modest lifestyle, but you only turn 53 once, so we checked in for three nights to celebrate and to explore the valley.

Ann’s only wish was to drink good wine from actual stem glasses, and given that we have almost no additional space to carry anything on the bikes, this became her present. Unfortunately no glassware was to be had (aside from stealing it from the kitchen), but I did find these lovely onyx goblets for sale, along with some descent California wines. I think she was happy.

The next day we headed off to Badwater, the actual lowest point in Death Valley. Like all the rest of the area, it is a strange and outlandish place. The area is a salt encrusted basin at 282 feet below sea level. When the torrential rains come, as they very occasionally do, all the water eventually ends up here. The water table itself is not too far down, so the water lifts salts from the land and deposits it as vast salt beds as the water recedes. The effect is stark and otherworldly.

   

After Badwater we drove back to where we had passed the sand dunes the day before. These are honest to goodness, Lawrence of Arabia/Tatooine style desert dunes right here in Death Valley. We walked for miles (OK, Ann walked for miles, I walked for a kilometres 😉 ), exploring this unexpected find.

   

After exploring the dunes we headed back to the Ranch to carry on the birthday girl’s celebration with a fine dinner, and then more wine on our deck. Our last day was spent relaxing, searching for what to do next, and then exploring the immediate area on foot. We found an old date palm grove that had seen better days, and revelled in the good beer, pizza and funny X-mas mood of this oasis in the desert.

 

     

 

Tomorrow we head for (gulp) Las Vegas. I was really hoping to avoid it, but weather is still cold (lows around 0C) and it has the cheapest places around. So I shall gird my loins and enter into yet another valley of death.

We left our comfy motel in Bakersfield and headed east into the dry hills and mountains that lead to Valley known as Death. In our usual attempt to avoid big, fast freeways, we took the path-less-travelled, up over the ranges that led first to a Lake Isabella. The signs of California’s long drought are all around us now. The Lake, which is a major reservoir for the area, and was once a large recreational waterway, has shrunk to 5% of it’s total capacity. You can clearly see the high water marks way up the valley, and compare it to the puddle of lake that now remains.

Our journey that day took us through some of the most stunning vistas and stark landscapes I have yet known. Of course, this is but a warm up for the big show of Death Valley, but it is all amazing, harsh and beyond anything I’ve seen before. On our way down from Lake Isabella we started to see the funniest looking stout trees … or are they cacti? Turns out there are known as Joshua Trees and are type of yucca plant. Named by Mormons after some bible guy, these are yet another bizarre addition to the strange and disturbingly alluring landscape we are now passing through. That night we ended our journey in the town of Ridgecrest.

 

        

The next morning we truly began our climb up, and then down, down, down into the lowest place in North America. Death Valley is 282 feet below sea level at its lowest point. But to get there we had to drive up and over a mountain pass that topped out at over 5,000 feet! It was a long steep and chilly climb up, and then a fun and fast drive down to the bottom of the world.

Our first stop was Stovepipe Wells, which is little more than a gas station and gift shop. Great place to refuel the bikes and ourselves though. It was bizarre to see the altitude signs drop from 2,000 feet to 1,000 to Sea Level, and then beyond. After a lunch of bread and Tillamook cheese we headed off for our final destination of Furnace Creek. Along the road there we passed by strangely coloured cliffs, sand dunes, and a bizarre landscape shaped by wind and flash floods. We arrived at the Furnace Creek Ranch and took up residence in the only oasis of this huge valley. 

 

We finally pulled out of the Monterey area and headed south once again. We passed through Big Sur, famous for big vista and big surfable waves, and made our way down the coast to San Simeon State Park. After nearly a month of motels we finally pulled out the camping gear and found a small spot under a tree in a state park.

The landscape has truly turned foreign and weird. Palm trees are now common, and I spotted my first of many real live wild cacti. The trees in the campground were all unknown pines … and they were short. Too short to hang our food bag from. Luckily the hiker/biker campsite had a food box, which kept the racoons, skunks and other small critters from eating our dinner.

Although the highway separated our campground from the ocean, there was a short path under the road which led to the beach. As usual, the view was stunning, and hard to put into words. Instead, I’ll let the  Ann-o-rama (thanks Arin 🙂 ) speak for us:

While at the campsite we met some interesting people, including a young couple who are bicycling to Argentina from BC. She was from Quebec and he from France, and together they were peddling their way down in the cause of sustainable agriculture. Fascinating and fun folks. They even expressed some appreciation for our little journey (humouring the old folks, no doubt). Check out their website. http://www.semeenselle.com.

This area of the California coast is amazing, not just for its beauty, but also for being the location of Hearst Castle (a la William Randolph Hearst, the 19th and early 20th century newspaper magnate and inspiration for the classic, Citizen Kane). But the real highlight is the hundreds of elephant seals that have come ashore to begin their birthing and mating season. It was an incredible sight to see these massive animals in their actual habitat, doing what they do. For females it was mostly sleeping, birthing and nursing, barking, and fending off the unwanted advances of teenage males. For the younger males it was a lot of growling, displaying and practice fighting.

I was all excited to see the young males, but then one of the volunteer guides explained that those were just kids playing. Then she pointed out a real Alpha Male. He was massive, with a and huge trunk that put the youngins to shame. We learned the alphas can weigh in at  5,000 pounds. The mature females are a tiny 1,800 pounds in comparison.

While we were there we got to see a scene right out of a nature documentary. At one point an uppity male tried to put the moves on one this big guy’s females. He came charging over, growling and displaying his full form. He then proceeded to scatter the whole beach of all the lesser males. Everywhere he dragged his massive bulk all the other seals, both male and female, would scatter. We spent a couple of hours just watching and being amazed by these bulky water denizens. We were even treated to the view of the first newborn of the season.

As we were getting ready to head back to camp a volunteer asked if we had stopped to see the zebras  … Err, what now!?! Apparently the same maniacal builder of castles, also had a thing for zebras. Hearst had a bunch brought over from Africa, and then now roam the area ranch land, mixing with the cattle. Low and behold, as we drove back to camp what do we spy but a bunch of black and white stripped horse-like things in amongst the cows. Had to stop and take a picture:

The time along the coast has been spectacular, but new adventures call, and it is time to turn our backs to the sea and start heading inland. We spent one last evening smelling the salt air and enjoying the surf and animal life.

    

We packed our tent, our bags, and our bikes, and after one more short run along the coast we turned east and headed into the dry California hills. Our route took us right over the infamous San Andreas fault line, which is the likely location of the west coast’s future shoreline after the next Big One comes. It also took us through what will no doubt become the norm for a while: a dry, dusty, and almost alien landscape.

We arrived in Bakersfield, and not finding any suitable campsites we checked into yet another cheap motel. We’re working on getting up, and then down into Death Valley. This is no small feat at this time of year for those of us on motorcycles. We have to get up and over a couple of mountain ranges, before we can take the deep plunge into the deep dry valley. A weather window is opening on the weekend though, so we’ll linger here till Saturday. We can catch up on laundry, and enjoy the pub that is within easy stagger distance. It has $3 IPA on tap, plus great food, all at cheap prices. Gotta love happy hour!