Like the sea, deserts are wide-open expanses where a person can feel socially distanced like few other places besides perhaps the earth’s poles or out in space. I had need to make a two-day business trip to Lake Havasu City (are you jealous yet?) late in the week, and I knew I was going to love this.
I drove through L.A. at morning rush hour and never dropped much below 70 mph. I took the 101 to the I-10 to the 15 to the I-40 into Needles, across the Colorado River and then Hwy. 95 down into Lake Havasu City.
It felt so nice to enjoy a long drive out through the Mojave Desert and the roads were clear except for trucks (Thank you truckers, for bringing us what we need during this quarantine!) and a moderate number of cars.
Something I saw along the side of the interstate made me smile. It was a roadside pole holding a piece of electronics and about two-thirds of the way up the pole was a solar panel that was mounted with a two-bar device. Some enterprising raptor parents had built an elaborate nest (this is springtime after all) between the two mounting bars.
For a good part of the day, the nest is under the shade of the solar panel and when it rains the panel keeps the nest dry. I was proud of that pair of raptors.
I took care of my business in Lake Havasu City and the next morning decided to take an even quieter route back. I traveled farther south on Hwy. 95 through Parker, AZ (a quaint riverside community) and transitioned to Hwy. 62 west where I entered my desert dream state and stayed in that happy state for roughly 90 miles.
But first I went through a border agriculture inspection station. I was the only car on the road and there was only one person working there, so we exchanged pleasantries and I was off into the desert.
All there is out there is desert — big, beautiful desert. After the good rains of winter and late-season additional rains, the desert looked healthy and vibrant. There were wildflowers here and there to be enjoyed and the plants looked well-watered and healthy.
Past Vidal Junction (don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.), I went roughly 60 miles without seeing a single building. It was just desert, with a railroad and aquaduct off to one side. Distance between services (gas, food, etc.) was roughly 80 miles and I loved every single mile of it.
During that whole time, I came up behind only two vehicles (one truck and one slow-moving car) and passed them. That is all the traffic I contended with for 80-some miles.
I rolled down the windows and listened to that enchanting silence of the desert, over the soft purr of my engine and sound of my tires on pavement. One road runner crossed the highway and a couple of rabbits flushed from beneath shade bushes near the road. A few crows lived out there because they can eke out a living most anywhere.
Finally, I saw a sign that I was entering Sheephole Wilderness and soon I entered Joshua Tree National Park. I saw buildings again in the distance when I neared the east end of Twentynine Palms. Okay, back to civilization, darnit! I continued through Yucca Valley, Morongo Valley (pretty valley), and came down off the high desert to join the I-10 west of Palm Springs.
Traffic through the Inland Empire and LA was decent, though much more traffic in the middle of the day than in the morning. That suggests to me that they aren’t going to work, but after sleeping in, they are spending the middle of the day out doing things.
— Capt. David Bacon operates WaveWalker Charters and is president of SOFTIN Inc., a nonprofit organization providing seafaring opportunities for those in need. Visit softininc.blogspot.com to learn more about the organization and how you can help. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.
