It was a Great...

Roll, and I wish I could still be out in our National Parks.

However, Cactus League Baseball (and a rental casita) beckoned me back toward Phoenix. 

I completed my lap of the sandy South West in Joshua Tree National Park. It used to be just me and the rock climbers who visited the helter skelter boulder fields. Now everyday American citizens and people from other places are drawn to its subtle beauty. There's even Boy Scout Troops on merit badge missions.

I always envisioned the terrain to be the playing field of Giants engaged in a contest of "Stack 'em High." I'll admit I moved a couple of large stones around to improve the overall Feng Shui of some random piles. No biggie. A good upper body workout. That's how I roll.

In retrospect, I would rather be in a campsite than a casita. Baseball could have waited a few more days. 

This was a lot better trip than Texas in the Spring of 2015. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/big-bend-epiphany.html

I still have heaps to learn in retirement. Good thing work doesn't interfere with my class time. 

Cheers from Litchfield Park, AZ.

That's a Happy Hour story too. Like I said, still learning.

Jeff

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