Tramping the 395
We moved into the town of Ridgecrest for our final work day in the Trona area. The plan was to hit the community center for a proper shower (it had been a while) then hang out at the park for the work hours before peeling off to the local Moose Lodge for the night. Everything sounded perfect until we were told that the showers at the community center opened at 2 PM. A Denny’s breakfast substituted before settling in for the day beside the local sports complex and dog park (bonus!). The wind was still kickin’ pretty good so we all stayed inside and just got shit done until we could call it a day. Only then could we roll across town to Walmart and resupply… so we did. It’s crazy how easy it is to blow an hour or two in that place. It is like some worm hole or something.
It was after leaving Walmart on Friday night that the sound returned. See, when we drove into Trona Pinnacles earlier in the week a familiar “eee-ooo-eeee-ooo” sound emanated from under the van. I had a good ideal what it might be but wasn’t 100% sure. The sound was not noticeable on our short drive into town, but after Walmart it had come back but more like a “wiggawiggawigga” when I accelerated from a stop. My van-repair-spider-senses were going crazy but I had not settled on what the next step was going to be. The evening at the Moose Lodge was uneventful and we pulled out early to start the weekend-proper, my van-senses still at peak perkiness.
A half hour up our favorite highway and we were pulling into our first sight seeing stop of the day. Just a mile or so off the main ribbon of asphalt, under an ancient volcano cinder cone, we parked Big Blue among a lava field. Here all four of us set out on a hike into another out-of-this-world place, to a fossil of a waterfall. It sounds so boring, but when you add that the waterfall flowed over and down a lava field, it adds a bit of baddass to the whole thing. Only a 1/4 mile hike in each direction even Byron was able to partake in the adventure which seemed to really start his day off on the right foot.
We moved on a short while later. First to the North, further up Highway 395, then a short jaunt East nearing the Western edge of Death Valley. Out here, in the middle of exactly no-where is the town of Darwin. Though touted as a ghost town it still has a few dozen inhabitants sprinkled around the area, mostly in pretty modern buildings and with extremely modern vehicles parked here and there. It had very much a Terlingua, Texas feel to the place – more of an intentionally ghost artist community than anything else.
After a stroll around the town we were taking a drive up a lone dirt road that dead ended miles further out into no where. This is where Big Blue shines, the mini-adventures off the beaten path that most others do not travel. There was nothing out at the end of the road but a lone fire pit made of rocks and a small 4WD trail along side a wash. We all got out and walked for a short while and again Byron joined us with the biggest doggy-smile you can imagine.
With that exploration done, we piled into the van and set off to meet up with another dirt that would have taken us the remainder of our day to navigate. With all of the miles in BLM land, and our day’s activities complete, we figured we would just find a nice spot to call ours somewhere along this twisted path through the desert. It was here that the noise under Big Blue returned and my inner repair-guy finally solidified what the problem is (thanks to Kerri taking the wheel while I laid beside the van). A universal joint that was on it’s last leg! If it failed, Big Blue would come to a dead halt exactly there and no way to move.
I’ve been here before. Many times actually. A universal joint failure on a regularly traveled highway is a huge pain in the butt, but a universal joint failure a few dozen miles down an untraveled dirt road could be deadly. I mean that in a very literal way since my abilities to walk out of the desert is severely hampered by my aging body (that bastard). We opted to change our plans and go back to the main highway where it was not a life-or-death matter at least. The simple repair would have to wait for the next real town, but – once again – not only was it a simple job, the parts are cheap and easy to come by.
So, a few miles on the other side of Darwin – at 4800 feet elevation – was a welcoming dirt road that we took a mile or so into the BLM land and settled into our own patch of desert for the remainder of the day. The distant Sierra mountains, one cold-ass breeze, and a few snow flakes were our only company for the rest of the day. The dogs and I played some serious fetch while Kerri took off on a tour of all three Joshua Trees in our view, none of where were anywhere nearby. I worried about here way the heck out there. Not only was the sun quite low in the sky, she was only wearing slippers, and she is really (REALLY) bad at knowing which direction she should be going… I mean really bad. Add to it that Big Blue is the exact same color as all of his surroundings, she could get lost in a flat desert only a few hundred yards away. Honestly, I was in full panic when I lost sight of her. I could see the headlines now, “Homeless guy who lives in a van kills girl in desert…”. Great! There was no way a jury was going to believe just how bad she is at navigating. By the simple fact that I am writing this you should know she that returned eventually.
We slept through a 20-degree night and woke to frosty windows and the gentle purr of the Mr Buddy heater. All was good! Kerri is learning the way of a Tramp in real fashion.
