California - The Road to Joshua Tree and The Chief

We headed out of San Luis Obisbo just as the sun was preparing to set, had another ridiculous encounter with the stupidly short nozzles on California gas pumps (the Van does not like this. She does not appreciate it, and she certainly does not accept it [the gas]) and we were back on the road.

Google maps informed us of a seemingly complex route through Pismo Beach, Santa Barbara, and eventually the gargantuan mass of roadways that is Los Angeles. We tried to have a pit stop to nap a bit before attempting to traverse the freeway again, but sleeping till noonish doesn’t really permit for early evening napping and we just had to push through.

TJ, once again, used her super-human driving skillz to navigate us across the miles

and miles of eight lane freeways, taking us through places we have only heard about in television and movies and caused us (and by us I mean me…) to exclaim such things as:

 “Heh, Encino. Like Encino Man, get it??!"

“San Dimas? I will be going back through time to find So-crates when strange things are afoot at the Circle K…”

I am not great. 

We drove through the edge of Los Angeles and North Hollywood so all the glitz and glamour was just on the other side of the Hollywood Hills, but the sprawling bright lights lit up the overcast sky in shades of pink making silhouettes of the palm trees that lined our way through la-la land. If the craziness of the traffic wasn’t so intense we might have had more than the fleeting moments of realization that we were in the land of celluloid dreams, but as it were, we continued on towards San Bernardino and Joshua Tree.

Accurate. 

The need to pee rules our lives while driving. All freeway exits appear as possible oases full of toilets, gasoline, and caffeine, and most of them taunt us with their lack of these things. Finally, after an hour of searching we saw the golden arches that, sadly enough, represent a sort of beacon of hope while traveling.

But wait...NO! It was CLOSED! No bathroom. No coffee. No delicious snacks. We were not happy, but Joshua Tree beckoned and we forged ahead. 

As we entered more desert like surroundings, seeing sagebrush and cacti lining the highway instead of towering palms, if finally felt like we had entered a terrain that was completely alien. Since it had been raining for a few days, we noticed sand on the highway and at lower points hazard signs warning against flash floods began to appear. Isn’t the desert supposed to be dry? Flooding? What??

We ambled into Joshua Tree at around 2:30AM and spent the next hour or so searching for a safe place to park inconspicuously for the night so we didn’t wake up The Chief at such an ungodly hour. Most of the roads looked washed out from rain water and we decided higher ground would be best…

We found such a spot and awoke this morning to a view of Joshua Trees, odd looking bushes, bleached bits of wood and sand. 

After coffee and a much needed bathroom break, TJ and I went in search of The Chief. It had started raining again, and within twenty minutes of what I would consider regular rainfall, the highway was flooded and people were shovelling sand on sidewalk corners to divert water. Apparently there is no sewer drainage in the desert and the highway is the lowest point of this bowl-like dust valley!

The Chief lives out in the desert. It’s almost in town, but for all intents and purposes…he lives in the desert. There is nothing but sand and desert plants for at least a mile in any direction and you can see clear across the valley from his vantage point. His house was built in the early sixties during that opulent period of ranch-house open concept, mod-style cool, where everyone had a hideaway wet bar, a sunken living room, and a wall of windows facing the morning sun. The chief has taken this house and turned it into the weirdest house I may have ever been in. 

Dream catchers hang from the ceiling in the kitchen, and cupboard nooks have been dedicated, not to bits of crockery and appliances, but a menorah covered in love beads, and a scarf lined display case for pottery. The dining room fireplace mantle has oriental scarves and odd little trinkets from nature in place of pictures, and instead of a family portrait on the chimney there is a painting of a skull wearing a top hat done on a flat piece of wood.

The living room is massive. One entire corner is dedicated to books and vinyl records, the ceiling is covered in band posters and others from across the earth, and a sea of Christmas balls hang at different lengths from the ceiling. There is a baroque-style couch against the wall facing the wall of windows, and a paisley patterned painting above the fireplace. Odds and ends like a cat scratch post, a set of antlers that have been painted orange, and an odd looking oriental harp litter the room filling all the empty spaces. TJ and I have come home.

Tomorrow we are going in search of the woman TJ met in Jasper who offered to show her the exact spot Paul Kaufman lit Graham Parsons on fire…we intend to find this spot and have a moment there with the dead, possibly be one with the desert for a while…if the rain lets up. We’ll see…

We plan on heading further south before entering Arizona so we can drive past the Salton Sea and stay for at least a night in Slab City. The Chief also told us about a detour highway that will take us back up to the I-10 that goes through a sea of dunes that has an actual Oasis with a hot spring in it! I repeat…WHERE ARE WE?

This is La-la land.