A MONTH IN THE COUNTRY SUN
We stayed in nine locations, each one glorious in its way, and were treated to an early spring. To finally experience Lake Mead, which had eluded me during a collective year of visits in the region, was an appealing beginning to the month sojourn. The old lodge empty, nearly, during the week; the simplicity of the hospitality refreshing in a region of such excess.
We raced to Joshua Tree, the hip town, hitting our friends in Searchlight and Nipton en route, for a class my husband was to teach the next day. The weather that had been 80 degrees on arrival turned cold. Even though we drove south, the storm joined us. It was the perfect time to have a fast deadline writing assignment--a commentary for a high level official. When I emerged from the motel three days later to join the outdoor world of Joshua Tree National Park, the weather was back to mild, and we drove to the southern part of the park to see the Sonoran Desert's early lush blooms. (See radio essay on spring flowers 08 on KNPR.org for more).
I watched spring marked by a cleave of light across a stone, as ancient native peoples had on that very spot--joined by a few who knew of this secret location.
For Easter weekend we drove the enfamous highways into LA. Venice Beach offered us enchanted warmth, lush yards, cute small houses, and riding bikes to the beach, the canals and past all those hip shops. Ate lots of great food. The hip ambiance made me feel so lucky to have landed again, seemingly, with my feet on water.
With vow to return to see the Huntington Gardens, to revisit the Getty Villa of antiquities, to return to the lifestyle we found so naturally fitting to ourselves, we headed east to Barstow and to another unknown--Paradise Springs. The daily soaking turned out to be the most pleasurable blessing of the trip. For six days we waded into the grotto like pool, stepping on the round stones that lined the floor, sitting under the pipe of water, never swimming the cooler adjoining rectangular swimming pool edged by tall palm trees and a horizon as empty as the ones we were used to in the eastern Mojave.
On to China Ranch, which we had visited before, but now stayed overnight in the hostel--lucky to only share the three bedroom trailer with one person for the first night. It was like having a small house for less than the price of a room. It's also where we paid an astounding 40 dollars to a troubled woman to get our laundry done--there wasn't facilities to be found to do it ourselves for more than 40 miles, not laundry, not cell service. Here we also waded in nearby Tecopa Hot Springs, remembering when it had been free, though now only $5. Up the road historic Shoshone, a gateway to Death Valley, and Internet service and restaurants. I was back at work, this time on my radio essays.
Our return to Zzyzx, and the Desert Studies Center was convenience, and nostalgia--cell and Internet service, Eric's fine food, a large table to work at with a view of the pond, the playa, the skirted palms. As I lay sunning after a day of work, a man came off the playa leaving his ATV, causing me to pull on shorts and a top as he approached. He was lost, his wife was hurt and he needed help. The center director, the magnanimous Rob, took over and a couple of hours later the wife was brought in on the back of truck bed to meet the medics who awaited her. It was a classic desert rescue scenario, but one I had never been witnessed from the front row.
On our way to the ranch that had been our home for six months the year before, we stopped to watch and meet the kite runners at Ivanpah--people dry sailing on three wheel scooters across the desert pulled by kites. It was an amazing sub-culture scene drawn from near and far. Top speed of the day was 56 miles an hour!
At the ranch, I barely left the dining room table and the computer screen, my original goal of 2-3 essays finished now expanded to 5, in part because I was able to break into a new station --Milwaukee Public Radio. We dined with friends, walked the ranch lamenting the changes since our stay, went into Vegas to tape my essays at KNPR and flew home that night. A whirlwind end to an enlivening trip in the east and west Mojave Desert.
Through it all, I sunned my psoriasis, absorbed vitamin D to counter my deficiency, my skin turning a honey hue. To think I was ambivalent about this trip. It turned into a magnificent balance of dedicated writing, fun in the great outdoors, and basking in lovely new locations. This is a model I will replicate.
We arrived in the east for a second spring--an April in Washington DC is something we haven't experienced in at least eight years and it's been glorious to garden and se the early flowering of trees and bulbs.
Travel Journal Essay by Rosie Dempsey
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