June 16, 2021
It may end up being better that I make these journal entries in the morning before a long day of driving. Last night I didn’t have many brain cells left. Still, this morning is a little early. I am parked about 10 miles east of Barstow, CA just off Interstate 15 near where Highway 58 splits into I-15 going North and I-40 going south. I’m parked on a service road in an area that serves as an unofficial truck stop across from a Travelodge and an all-night diner. The Mojave National Preserve was just too unknown. On the phone last night, driving through the dark, Jillian gave me permission not to venture there when she said she’d gotten a flat tire from thorns in the desert. That’s all I needed.
There must be between 20 and 30 big rigs parked here and they’ve been coming and going all night. I have earplugs which I just now put in. I didn’t think to use them when I pulled in last night at 11:30. My sleep was fairly solid despite the hammering of idling engines, the hum of generators and the nearby whine of highway tires providing the frictional median between concrete and encapsulated humans surrounded by tons of plastic and steel being propelled through space. That we do this: move about the earth in an incessant fashion within various states of frenzy—all in a seated position—is a great feat of science. And just to think, soon we will no longer need to be seated but might lay on our backs and look up at the sky just as we might relax beneath a tree on a warm day in the park.
Speaking of warm, it is about 80 degrees right now. I’ve been asleep on top of the sheets. This exact time one week ago I had multiple layers of clothes on and was stuffed in a sleeping bag inside a tent and I still couldn’t get warm six hundred miles north of here in the Trinity Alps.
Ill-equiped, I will take the heat over the cold any day. This warmth would be much more doable if the battery operated fan I bought four days ago would work. That was the greatest disappointment when I finally crawled my way into this little shell and locked myself in with chains attached between the tailgate and truck body and vice grips on the lever of each handle latch. At least I feel safe.
I have a canister of bear spray and a knife I keep within reach—neither precaution taken during my recent backpacking trip. However, I do have a large bag of food inside the cab on the front seat. No need to hang it in a tree which would be hard to do, anyway, in this treeless landscape. I guess I could attach a rope and throw it onto the roof of the diner if truckers were prone to breaking windows to get hold of apples and Pirate’s Booty.
I have black out curtains on the front and back windows of the camper shell and doubled curtains on the sides that let in a little light. It was no easy thing rigging the inside with the proper hardware and I have Jillian and her sewing machine skills to thank for the tailored look. I was just going to throw up a couple of boards at each end but this is much better.
Now that I’m just about done with this day’s journal entry, I’m energized and ready to go, but it’s still dark outside. I’d much rather see the landscape in daylight as opposed to not seeing it at all. Apparently there are mountains to cross to get to Las Vegas. I’ve never been to this part of the world before, but I could be driving upside down on the moon for all the information that headlights on a dark road give.
Now that I’ve got my wits about me, I realize it was just wishful thinking about the diner across the street being 24 hours. A peak through the curtains reveals its unlighted, sad, emptiness. Nothing is stopping these truckers though. Air brakes are snorting like bulls all around me. Engines are revving. It might be time to put on my pants and hit the road.
Spotty West Goes East 