I should have known, but all it took was a few days for Greg to surpass my earlier winnings with his necklace sales, well trades, which are topping 250$ and counting. Yet, competition gives way to smooth sailing as we equip ourselves in style for the journey back, not only to, but also through 1000 miles of desert.
Still, the trip isn’t over. I have sad goodbyes to make. Although if this cat doesn’t stop walking on my computer, some of them might become a bit easier.
And yes, goodbyes are sad and bad, but sometimes you have to pull the band-aid trigger and just move everyone to the next chapter of their life. For some a new chapter, for my daughter, I think it will be the beginning of the next novel.
Hills of mist lay drenched in fog as we race south and away from the lands of wine and weed. Soon, even in the most populated state, we leave the people and homes behind. A small outpost, like a boat floating over a sea of grass, allows me to discuss Lovecraft with an interested father as we get one more day of rest before heading into Mojave National Preserve.
The upcoming downlow:
- I have never been to the MNP
- With the government shut down things will either be locked or free?
- Do we have enough gear for a January camp?
- Will Greg just sleep in the car?
Seventeen hours later and I have the answers to all those questions.
After driving into the Mojave, we manage to find a Dollar General and stock up, such as we can. Figuring topping off the gas can’t hurt, I head into the K, because hell, an extra sixer can’t hurt either. A heated conversation is going on as I approach the counter.
Hipster Costumer: “Yeah man, I love M and Ms.”
Neck Tattoo Clerk: “Hell yeah, I eat a bag every day. But I just eat three at a time, so I can savor them, but I eat a whole bag every day!”
Hipster Costumer: “I’m going to go home and nap, but when I wake up, I eating this whole bag!”
Neck Tattoo Clerk: “I fucking LOVE M and Ms!”
At this point they look over to me to make sure no innocents witnessed the man on the job drop the F bomb over his love of candy. They see me with just a sixer of beer at 2PM.
Hipster Costumer: “Holy shit dude, you’re tall. I thought I was tall, but you are like a giant.”
Neck Tattoo Clerk: “And look, he’s got beer. This guy is ready to party!”
Hipster Costumer: “Yeah, he must need to drink a whole six-pack to equal us drinking one…”
Eventually I get, beer, gas, and laughs and then rip back onto I-40. The mists we’ve traveled through change to rain. Captain Mysterious and I reach an unspoken understanding we will be in a wet camp, with little available in the way of wood. Any wood which can be found will also be drenched, so two people with limited gear, could be hard pressed while exploring the largest desert in the USA.
Two hours later, we take the exit into the Devil’s Playground. Worries over the Government Shutdown turn out to be unneeded for the lands swept before us barren and unpopulated. The fog covered mountains looming over the desert confirm this was a strong choice no matter what the outcome. However, despite its beauty, the lands prove sparse and there will be little obvious resources available to help us through the January night.
Heading north, we moved deeper into this no-man’s-land or NML. Then I spotted a sixty-foot com tower. “I got an idea. The dirt roads leading to these towers are always better maintained.” And when you have a Honda Accord these things become so much more important. My guess proved right, and we reached the tower without incident. Upon arriving, we discovered two things.
- A single fire place sized log.
- The road continued.
After grabbing the log, we continued as well and struck gold. A mile past the tower was a giant tumble of boulders with a fire pit. We stopped and as the clouds lowered over the mountains, we got the fire lit before the rains grew stronger, which they soon did. The place proved to be amazing. The fire remained traditional and small. We kept it just big enough to cook on and take away the shivers of the soaked jackets.
Intense events should have a meaningful climax and for me, camping out in the mist shrouded desert in a desolated and unexplored piece of this country proved an excellent way to end my 2700 miles power trip to drop my eldest, Katrina, off at her new home town.
Trips should leave you refreshed and yet anxious to get back to your lives and the projects and goals which infuse your existence. A great trip will spark new ideas and solutions, along with jumpstarted energy to complete your dreams.
Perhaps we need the pause to be able to focus those dreams. Only by being temporarily removed from your steady life and locale can you realize how you wish to improve it and why you should do so. Travel inspires and reminds one how small our corner of the universe is. We are only one story within the billions, but this makes it no less important for us.
I also think stripping down our possessions helps with this. In the USA many seem to feel we are what we own. But when you’re standing in the rain with the only jacket you have, eating the last of the food you possess, it clears you of the excess. Possessions are just what we surround ourselves with, be they shirts or selves, we encase our bodies in what we own, but in the wilds, we have little of this. Perhaps therefore it’s one of the finest ways to figure out who you really are?
You can grab some of my fiction here. Heroes who strive on a different Path
WildernessPunk 