While Death Valley is cerebral...

the Mojave National Preserve is in-your-face blue collar. It's gritty, stark and there's not a lot of amenities. (No hotels, no gas and no stores.) 

I'd guess there's more cattle roaming in the Preserve than people. I was OK with that. I  just had to watch where I was stepping. 

There's 1.6 million acres to explore. It's a land of abandoned mines, four wheel drive roads, lonely mountain ranges, compelling mesas and a campground where the residents almost whisper. It's that quiet. I really liked that part of the Mojave. 

Outside the Preserve but still within the Mojave Desert lies remnants of America's Mother Road-Route 66. 

One day I purchased a night's worth of firewood in Fenner, California. The gas station/convenience store was all that remained of the town. They were cashing in on their Route 66 notoriety. That wood set me back $18. I guess you can say I have money to burn. 

Along Route 66 in Amboy, California the school sits vacant behind a chain link fence. There's no teachers to say "class is now in session." There's no fidgeting students either. Roy's is the only business. I think they sell gas. The cabins were bare shells. 

Now there seems to be more Europeans and Asians who follow what's left of the Mother Road than Americans.

I wonder if those foreign tourists ever think about those Okie Dust Bowl refugees who once took that road to the Promised Land of California only to to find it wasn't so milk and honey after all. John Steinbeck immortalized their plight in the "Grapes of Wrath." It's the Route's sad legacy. 

I'm now in Joshua Tree National Park. It's not quiet, in fact it's kind of nuts. I'll visit a quieter part today. I hope most of the visitors go back to work on Monday. (Those poor snooks). I want the Park to myself. 

OK. I'll share it with a few of you.

Keep following me along!

Cheers with a coffee,

Jeff

Have I got a deal for...

You.

For a mere $5,000,000 (chump change for The Donald) you can own your own unincorporated town in California. 

Nipton comes with 80 acres of prime Mojave Desert real estate. You are not just buying sand and mesquite bushes. No Sir or Madame. This giveaway sales price includes the famous Nipton Hotel. 

But wait! There's more! The present owners are so swell, they will pitch in the Whistle Stop Cafe, the Nipton Trading Post and my temporary residence-the Nipton RV Park all for the same low price. Such a deal! 

So what if the campgrounds rest rooms has dirt floors? The local cats have discovered this substrate makes an excellent litter box as well. It's these simple touches that enhances the overall wilderness experience of being in the high desert. 

The asking price doesn't include the six residents who call the zip code 92364 home. You might have to deal with them on a one on one basis. As the saying goes, "Everyone can be bought." You can always go across the border to Nevada to purchase a pound of flesh. (Legalized prostitution.) 

It's a quiet town. The only traffic is the Union Pacific trains that toot their way through every so often. The railroad tracks are so close to my Van, I can practically hand the engineer an IPA as they head to who-knows-where. (Maybe Salt Lake City to Los Angeles and visa versa?)

Yet, the moon is rising and the stars are shining. It's all good in Nipton, California.

Good night from RV site # 4,

Jeff

Parting is such...

Sweet sorrow. 

With an end of game full moon silhouetting Death Valley and it's Super Bloom, it's time for me to get along Little Barley. 

I spent my time in this vast park hiking to places where a twisted knee would allow me to get to. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/02/as-i-was-falling-over-backwards.html

There's just a few real trails, so I was pretty limited. Fortunately, flowers don't mind being neighbors with paved or dirt roads. I scored many oh-ah moments just the same. I just wish I could have seen and done more.

I'll make up for this the next time I venture this way. There will definitely be a next time.

Today, I'll be heading to Nipton, California. A place famous for not much. The town (if you can call a hotel, general store and campground a zip code) prides itself as a place of sloth. I plan on icing my knee, resting it and looking out into the Mojave Desert void.

I read about Nipton in the now defunct National Geographic Adventure magazine. Maybe that's why the monthly tabloid died a sudden death. They gave too many Nipton-like recommendations. 

There will be a full report with photos ASAP. 

Wish me luck on the knee. I won't be doing much wandering or wondering if I need a surgery.

Cheers,

Jeff