Death and the desert

Driving through the Mojave Desert is not quite what I expected. I've never been in a desert before so I thought it would be vast sand dunes with little or no vegetation but it's actually got plenty of small green bushes dotted off into the distance. Around here there's small abandoned shacks and decaying shells of cars a plenty. Further along the road all signs of life end and no town or village exists so having a full tank of petrol is essential. Saying that I thought you could really get stranded in a breakdown but there's plenty of cars going either way across the desert to flag down, it's not like the desolation shown in the movies.
Suddenly we spot sand dunes, a collection sit beside the road at the end of a dirt track. Now this looks like a desert. At the end of the dirt road you can walk to the top of the dunes, it doesn't look too far so we give it a go. It takes an hour to get there and it's tough going. The sun out here gets intense, when it's not obscured by cloud, and walking in the deep sand takes its toll. The dunes looked a lot closer than they were and are in fact huge. From the top looking out over the other side of a dune you can see for miles of which are mainly just sand dunes backed by mountains of which all is stunning. Mountains are also nearby to the dune I'm stood on and are the reason why the dunes are here in the first place. The wind blows around the mountains and deposits the sand along the plains below. The dunes also make an odd booming sound when the sands shift, like the noise of a nearby low-flying plane. This is due to the sand particles rubbing over each other when the wind shifts them, so the notice board at the car park tells me.
We drive through the rest of the desert thoroughly knackered and flying by the odd broken down settlement along the way. We head west again towards the truck stop town of Barstow and that's about all I have to say about the place.
Just outside of town is a ghost town, or so we hear. We got and have a look and thankfully it's just before closing so we don't have to pay the $6 each to get in. I'm even more thankful when we take a look around at American fakeness in full swing. This was once a ghost town but someone had clearly spotted a marketing opportunity here and decided to move in and sell guff to tourists. More impressive was the diagonal slabs of rock nearby the town in which old townsfolk had dug holes in looking for gold.
Heading east again and towards what could be the saving grace of America, the national parks. This one is the biggest, most unforgiving and surprisingly diverse parks in the land. It is none other than Death Valley. It's also California's last swan song for us before we finally leave this incredible state.
To say Death Valley National Park is big isn't even close. I thought Yosemite was huge but this place is just silly. 3000 square miles make up the area of this strange land that also hosts some of the hottest temperatures on Earth. This is in part due to it being home to the lowest point of North America at 282 feet below sea level. The highest temperature recorded here was 56 degrees Celsius! It's not as if this was recent either so don't even mention global warming as this happened in 1913.
The valley itself is very wide, I thought it would be steep and deep for some reason. Mountains surround the valley on both sides towering into clouds, it's as if the valley has it's own weather system.
There's plenty of hiking trails around the park and easy things to see near car parks. People are camping out here too but it gets too cold at night for my liking at this time of year.
We walk down Mosaic Canyon which has smoothed rock and mashed together rock creating a marble-type effect as well as a mosaic of colour, as the name suggests. Volcanic activity created most of the landscape around here and there's still large cone shaped mounds testify.
There's some crazy coloured rock around here showing all sorts of blues, greens, reds and yellows in lines of rock which you can drive between. At times I can't quite comprehend what my eyes are seeing. Some of it just seems fake . I never thought landscapes like this existed on this planet. It's a strange place and the colours contrast with the red rock and Mars-looking landscape around the valley.
That night we stay in a small town that has one bar open that is the only place to get food as well. We sit at the bar and get some beers and pizza whilst chatting to two Canadian bikers on tour. The bar is small and is half and half populated by tourists and locals. Adorning the walls are various parts of cars, the front grill from a Mercedes, the steering wheel from a new Mini, a Porsche racing team signed jersey and so on. This is because many car makers test vehicles to their limits in the desert heat of Death Valley. Clearly having only one bar to drink in the testers all come to drink in the same place. As Death Valley borders Nevada and we're over the state line there's a casino in town. There must be about 10 buildings and one of them is a casino. Good for us though as a local withered looking cowboy walks in and buys everyone at the bar a drink. Classic. He make look at deaths door and has probably spent more money than he's won in the casino but he's alright by me.
Another local tells us what it's like living here in Summer, telling us you can only go outside for 15 minutes at a time until you build up a resistance over a matter of weeks.
Back into Death Valley the next day we walk along another canyon and scramble between large rocks towards a vertical red rock face and amazing views back towards the valley. It's no wonder Star Wars films were shot here. There's also another ghost town near the entrance that thankfully this time is just that. It's still dull though apart from some odd and some plain crap art that's been dotted around the area.
Next up is a massive salt flat that is at the lowest point of North America and is a aptly named Badwater. The water that is here is extremely high in salt content and the area was named so by pioneers trying to make it through this unforgiving area. Death Valley got it's name from a group of American settlers trying to find their way through this baron land with diminishing supplies. The group couldn't find a way out of the valley for weeks and ended up eating their oxen and cutting up their wagons to burn so they could cook the meat. Only one of the group died and he was half dead when they entered the valley but that's where the name came from non the less.
Not far from Badwater is a large natural rock bridge formed over years by the whistling wind. We also have a look at the odd salt and dirt formations making up Devils Golf Course. Why is it that there's always something named after the Devil? Popular guy.
Death Valley is stunning and as the sun goes down crowds gather on a popular viewing spot to take snaps of the effects of sunset. It soon gets cold though. Cold or not the views are tremendous, this is why we came to America.
From the natural outer-space looking landscapes of Death Valley we drive into the night towards something equally other-worldly and odd, Las Vegas.

White hills and blue lakes

Higher and higher we drive up from the warmth of Sacramento and snow begins to appear beside the road. As we drive more and more snow build up until we reach South Lake Tahoe and it's higher than the car. It's also getting dark and difficult to find where the hell we're going as road entrances have now become channels cut into the snow. In a couple of hours driving we've gone from arms out of the window and t-shirts on to fully wrapped up in hats and scarves. All this and we're still in California, just.
Lake Tahoe is a huge expanse of blue water that has the border of California and Nevada running down the middle. The buildings on the California side have a bit of the alpine look about them and typically on the Nevada side, where gambling is legal, they have plonked a couple of large unsightly casinos. We stop on Stateline Road which is exactly what it says it is, crossing it takes you into Nevada to do some gambling, if you're into that type of thing.


Along the California side of the lake the road curves its way until we get to a ski resort that's literally just next to the road. Right, time to try out the snowboards. Oh, I forgot I'm crap! Getting the chairlift up the mountain is hard enough but it rewards you with the sight of the clear blue lake glinting in the the sun surrounded by the mountainous snowy landscape. Not bad. Falling on my face, sliding along on my bum and doing all kinds of rolls becomes the norm. I can manage bursts of boarding but mainly it's just pain. The next couple of days we can barely move as our muscles have tightened up and I'm bruised all over.


Lake Tahoe is the home of Californian snow action and the lake is surrounded by a concentrated group of ski resorts giving you a choice of 5 or so within a short distance.
No matter how many times I smacked down on compact snow the scenery was amazing and it wasn't that busy. One guy was skiing dressed as a clown for some reason but that's America for ya.
We carry on towards Yosemite National Park and stop over in a decent American West type of town called Sonara.
It's a nice enough looking one-road small town. We find out later that Sonara has 5 Mexican restaurants! 5! I think there were 10 restaurants in town and 5 were Mexican.
Thankfully I love Mexican food but this is were America is poorly represented to the outside world. On tv and films you get plenty of your standard white and black folk being typical Americans but one of the biggest surprises to me was how many Americans are in fact from Mexico. The Mexican population is massive and they don't just live in the southern states near the Mexican border. They live way up into the north as well. For all the complaining we've heard from African Americans on tv and sometimes on the street we've seen or heard nothing from the ignored Latino population. Most motels we've stopped in have at least one channel in Spanish and usually the cleaners of that motel are Latino. It's strange that in all the things I've seen about America throughout my life that very little Mexican-Americans were included, other than being drug dealers in gangster films as bit part players to the leading African or white Americans. After going to Mexico and South America I like the Mexican people and I just don't understand what's going on here. I wonder if they think themselves lucky to be here and that life could be worse, after all they could be native Americans.

The Pacific claims another victim

The rain continues as we cross into California and the Redwood Forest. A narrow bumpy scenic drive was recommended and it took in-between giant towering Redwood trees. That night a storm rages outside and the rain doesn’t stop until morning. We awake to clear blue skies and the California sun once again.

At breakfast, well that’s what they called it at the motel but I tend to disagree, three Canadian girls tell us about their misfortune in hitting rocks the previous night and popping three tyres. It was dark and the storm was in full swing along the craggy coast. Landslides and rockfalls are very common.

Again we’re in Crescent City, I think named so due to its long crescent shaped beach. As we pass the beach I notice a large smooth rock like shape that seems to be attracting a bit of attention. We pull in and take a look. It turns out to be a large sperm whale lying dead on the sand. I’m not sure what happened but it may have been there as a result of the previous night’s storm. A fin, its eye and some innards had been cut out and blood seeped back into the sea. There was a bit of a whiff in the air as the sun warmed up the area. It was a pretty horrible sight.

Through the Redwood National Park we check out humongous trees that grow tall and wide and red. These are the biggest redwoods in the world. Along Highway 1 winding its way through trees wider than the car we continue south trying to beat the dropping sun before the dark makes it tricky to negotiate, there are no lights out here.

It would have to be a road with the most hairpin bends and undulating blind corners I’ve ever driven. Great looking but it takes forever to drive 35 miles to the small coastal town of Fort Bragg. We pay more than we’d like for a room and then a pizza but find $20 on the floor so all is good with the world.

Another ‘continental’ breakfast starts the day. I’m not sure what continent has a breakfast consisting of only muffins, pastries and coffee. Oh yes I do, North America.

The road continues to wind up down and all around whilst keeping a close distance to the ocean. We pass briefly through the colourful town of Eureka along the way. It has many painted wooden houses with various spires and ornate decorations as well as the odd street mural too. And a great name. ‘Where are you from?’, ‘I live in Eureka!!’ Sounds good I thought.

It takes a few hours to cover the 130 odd miles to our destination but we get there in the mid-afternoon sunshine. It’s as great looking as ever as we pass over that famous reddish bridge across bright blue water looking to our left at the white hilled city for the third time on this trip. San Francisco we’re here again. This time we’re staying to see it properly, warts and all.

California dreaming

Of the 3 states that line the west coast of America California is the biggest. It was once part of Mexico, much like other parts of the US, until the Spanish American war. Which is why there are soo many place names that are Spanish. Los Angeles, 'The Angels', Santa Rosa, 'Saint Rose'. Typically the names are mainly catholic but they sound good either way.
California is not just a hot beach and cool city state. It's a diverse as they come, deserts, snowy mountains and blue lakes share the state with the long beaches and rolling hills. It's also home to an incredibly precarious position of the San Andreas fault which is where two tectonic plates meet and can cause devastating earthquakes.
It's on that coast we roll back up toward San Francisco with Si in toe. We stop at similar places along the way, Santa Barbera for a pier walk, further up to the Seal Colony and through Carmel(although the rain is pouring this time round). We pass some rugged coastline along the sea hugging road for miles and miles.
After a couple of days we arrive by night back amongst the hills of San Francisco.
The streets look as good as ever as we drive behind an old style tram.
We eat curry, classic, before heading to the beatnik bar of Vesuvio for drinks amongst the American 60's posters and stained glass windows. A guy has lost his umbrella, it cost him $130! A drunk girl falls about the bar banging into people before moving behind the bar to start her shift. Two guys argue over Jimi Hendrix. Colourful life rumbles on outside the neon strip joints and bars. I love it.
A tramp asks, 'Do you have any change for a guy to get drunk? I promise I won't spend it on food or accommodation.'
But alas one night is all we have in this great city. The rental car has to be back in Seattle in two days, we have some driving to do.
Si stays on for a few days before leaving for home. The last few days had been good and strange in a way. We drop Si off at a hostel, say our goodbyes and head across the Golden Gate Bridge heading north. The bridge is undeniably beautiful and certainly lives upto the hype. through a tunnel and into the fog of Marin County. Lovely foresty goodness.
We drive into and through the Redwood National park surrounded by humongous trees as wide as the car. An intense driving bonanza continues the next day as we drive from northern California through Oregon state and most of Washington to just outside Seattle at Seatac. After hours of driving and 3000 miles of the last 2 weeks under our belts we begin to wonder how we're going to explain the mileage to the rental company.
Our limit was Oregon and Washington states so to do the kind of mileage we have we should have seen loads of both states. We hadn't seen a jot. We were planning on making stuff up about the places we'd been in Oregon to explain more than doubling the car's mileage. I'm pondering this as we approach our motel for the night. At the lights we feel a bump and jolt forward. I didn't know what had happened. I nearly just drove off thinking it was the car but it soon dawned on me that we'd been hit by the car from behind. Oh great. Any damage to the car and we have to pay the first $400! This would blow our budget through the roof. After all this driving and the night before we have to return the car some tool drives into the back of us at traffic lights where everyone had been stationary for minutes. We get out and surprise surprise the guy has no insurance. Brilliant. The damage is minimal, luckily only a couple of scratches. But even so, if the rental people spot it we're in for a big payout. We take numbers and the guy says he'll pay for the damage if necessary, unlikely I thought.
Added to the high mileage the new scratches were an extra worry. Do we face up to it and confess all that went on? Do we call the police reporting the guy without insurance thus also admitting all that went on? Nah. We turn up next day playing it cool. The rental guy got in the car to note the mileage. He wrote the trip mileage down thinking it was the overall mileage and didn't even look at the rest of the car. We were home and dry! We almost ran away, a great start to the day. Hopefully the next couple of days in Seattle run as smoothly!

From San Fran to LA

A few stretches of good looking beaches and surf line the coast beneath San Francisco as we drive along the Pacific Coast Highway towards Los Angeles. It takes a few days to drive to LA as there are some decent towns to stop at on the way.
We don't get very far before stopping at Santa Cruz.
This place is fairly small and has really only one short main street but the Spanish colonial style buildings all look neat and tidy and the place has a good atmosphere about it. It's definitely a surf town due to the amount of surf shops but there's also a theme park on the beach front with old style wooden roller coasters and a bit of a family feel. For some reason I'm constantly getting lost in this town, one way systems and 'no right turns' plague me. We stop overnight across from a skatepark that has a full concrete tube in it. Looks pretty scary, no wonder no-one is attempting it.
Monterey is further down the road. I know of Monterey for two reason, the festival of speed and the music festival. It was at the Monterey Music festival in the 60's where Jimi Hendrix set his guitar on fire on stage. The town itself was not bad and again in a similar style to Santa Cruz except there are less people walking the main streets. We soon realise everybody's at the dock and the pier therein. It's an old style wooded pier with shacks on both sides selling various fish products for enormous American tourists to scoff. Clam chowder in a bread bowl is the most popular. It's like a think fish soup, I try a sample, no thanks.
A short drive down the coast lands you in Carmel. This is a small affluent town that is based around tourists but not over the top. It's a great looking place and has a long curving beach with lush blue water crashing in and an excellent narrow road that winds along the coast beside hobbit looking houses.
Next up is the 35 miles of coast which is known as Big Sur. A good bit of coast but not as impressive as the New Zealand coast for instance.
A large seal colony occupies a couple of beaches where tourists gather to watch over them. They just lie there in there droves, burping loudly, sleeping, fighting and attempting to hump. Sounds familiar.
We check out some wild surf at Morro Bay where the waves look evil but the shoreline doesn't. Further along the road we spot a load of dolphins swimming amongst the waves.
Santa Barbara was the last stop before LA. It's yet another good looking town and has an air of Mexico in it's buildings and main street. The waterfront also looks typical California with the long pier and rolling Californian hills in the background.
It's amazing how many places I've heard of in America, I thought Malibu was a town of some sort but it's just a long stretch of beach with houses on stilts half on the road half on the sand.
Los Angeles was ahead. Another place I'd heard lots about, not all good. In fact mainly pretty dire.