This morning at oh-dark-thirty was our departure for Lake Havasu City. Kevin was dragging ass so we didn't drive away until 6:35am. The sun's first rays had just crested the eastern Mule Mountains.Traffiic was minimal. We made it to Benson at 8:20am for the first pottie break. I took the dogs on a short trail across from the Kartchner Caverns. It was still a little chilly out. Sara looked like she was in pain. I'm starting to worry about her because her paw doesn't seem to have heeled much at all; the big torn gash is still sensitive and is easily rubbed raw by her packmates.
The dogs were well-behaved and snoozed most of the time. Sadie at times snored like Kevin. The first time she snored I thought it WAS Kevin but he was wide awake and staring at the road ahead.
We took a few short pee breaks for them so they could stretch their legs and remain calm. The cramped conditions, however, made the dogs' noses snot on the windows, and Sammy's drooling today was expecially heavy. It's even more of an annoyance when he insists on sticking his head between us and drools on the middle console.
"Damnit Sammy, go drool on Dad!" I'll say as I try to steer his head toward Kevin while I'm driving.
And every now and then that annoying doggie odor...everytime we got back into the truck after whatever break we took we had to wipe down the dogsnot from the front windshield, placed there by Sadie. When sunlight reflects on the snotty windshield or side window you can't see through the glass.
I couldn't wait to get past Casa Grande and on I-8. I hadn't been on this stretch of road since 1986, when Erin was six weeks old and we were moving from California to Arizona. It was my first exposure of the Southwestern Desert and its dry heat.
We were 145 miles into our drive. We had just stopped at a Love's Truck Stop south of Casa Grande to fill up the truck. I chatted briefly with the man across the pump from me who talked about his vacation at San Diego's Dog Beach last year. That place sounds like something I should check out on my next extended weekend. It's been over ten years since I've been in that city.
"The dogs have a blast!" he said. "They run up and down the beach, roll around, and play with each other; they are not aggressive at all!"
Interstate 8 starts at Casa Grande here and travels west toward San Diego. As soon as I ws back on the interstate I took the first turn-off on I-8 toward SR85.
We were barely on I-8 going west when a ghost driver, a white sportster driving the wrong way, nearly hit the semi tractor-trailer truck in front of us.
"HOLY SHIT! screamed Kevin. He rarely raises his voice but at this instant he screamed. All I could do was veer as far right as I could to avoid the car. Had I been driving in the left lane the white car, coming directly toward us, would have hit us straight on and most likely have killed me. The semi in front of me had swerved to his right to avoid the car. I was still accelerating at 65pmh but the white car was already at the posted speed limit of at least 75mph.
We could have been badly injured (and I surely would have been crushed dead as my first reaction would have been to veer back right into my lane, sparing Kevin but taking my own life) had I made the decision to get in the left lane to pass the semi tractor trailor a few seconds before that white car came over the hill...dead on New Year's Day rang through my mind. I had to mentally calm down a bit after that harroring experience to think clearly again and start focusing on the scenery.
There were a few unique landmarks along the way. The first were two small peaks that resembled small breasts. Kevin calls these peaks "Dos Nipples." We stopped off the highway to photograph Dos Nipples while the dogs sniffed and peed along the shoulder.
Another one was the Space Age Lodge and Restaurant in Gila Bend. This is one of two restaurants that he eats at when he's at GB for business. The facade and part of the roof resemble a spacecraft, and the interior walls are painted with astronauts and spacecraft. I must admit that the food here is quite good, and the spacecraft on the roof gives GB some personality. Otherwise the town wouldn't be much more than any other boring truckstop sort of town.
A few well-made metal dinosaurs were also on display outside a Shell station in town, welcoming drivers to fuel up.
The one historic building--Just one!--was a turn-of-the-century Stout's Hotel off the Main street. The building looked lonely without any surrounding historic buildings. There really wasn't much else in GB to see.
Terrain around us became more stern and monotone as we made our way toward the Colorado River. The few trees other than gnarled palo verdes were along the rest stops. At one rest stop called "Burned Well" I came across several legume-like trees I've not seen in southeastern Arizona. The pods were rather large and the seeds resembled pine nuts. I collected a few seeds and hope to propagate a few next summer when nighttime lows will allow propagation.
A man walking his aging 14-year-old black-and-tan German shepherd stopped a few trucks from ours. The dog was visbly arthritic. The owner had to hold the dog upright as it stumpled to stand up again. It was a loving sight to see an older man treat his older dog in such a tender manner. I dread the day I have to treat Sara with the same tenderness and care. I don't think it will take her 14 years, though. I think she's already in the stage of arthritis that requires me to get her medical attention. If she could speak I'm sure she would be honest with me and tell me where it hurts.
And every now and then that annoying doggie odor...everytime we got back into the truck after whatever break we took we had to wipe down the dogsnot from the front windshield, placed there by Sadie. When sunlight reflects on the snotty windshield or side window you can't see through the glass.
I couldn't wait to get past Casa Grande and on I-8. I hadn't been on this stretch of road since 1986, when Erin was six weeks old and we were moving from California to Arizona. It was my first exposure of the Southwestern Desert and its dry heat.
We were 145 miles into our drive. We had just stopped at a Love's Truck Stop south of Casa Grande to fill up the truck. I chatted briefly with the man across the pump from me who talked about his vacation at San Diego's Dog Beach last year. That place sounds like something I should check out on my next extended weekend. It's been over ten years since I've been in that city.
"The dogs have a blast!" he said. "They run up and down the beach, roll around, and play with each other; they are not aggressive at all!"
Interstate 8 starts at Casa Grande here and travels west toward San Diego. As soon as I ws back on the interstate I took the first turn-off on I-8 toward SR85.
We were barely on I-8 going west when a ghost driver, a white sportster driving the wrong way, nearly hit the semi tractor-trailer truck in front of us.
"HOLY SHIT! screamed Kevin. He rarely raises his voice but at this instant he screamed. All I could do was veer as far right as I could to avoid the car. Had I been driving in the left lane the white car, coming directly toward us, would have hit us straight on and most likely have killed me. The semi in front of me had swerved to his right to avoid the car. I was still accelerating at 65pmh but the white car was already at the posted speed limit of at least 75mph.
We could have been badly injured (and I surely would have been crushed dead as my first reaction would have been to veer back right into my lane, sparing Kevin but taking my own life) had I made the decision to get in the left lane to pass the semi tractor trailor a few seconds before that white car came over the hill...dead on New Year's Day rang through my mind. I had to mentally calm down a bit after that harroring experience to think clearly again and start focusing on the scenery.
There were a few unique landmarks along the way. The first were two small peaks that resembled small breasts. Kevin calls these peaks "Dos Nipples." We stopped off the highway to photograph Dos Nipples while the dogs sniffed and peed along the shoulder.
Another one was the Space Age Lodge and Restaurant in Gila Bend. This is one of two restaurants that he eats at when he's at GB for business. The facade and part of the roof resemble a spacecraft, and the interior walls are painted with astronauts and spacecraft. I must admit that the food here is quite good, and the spacecraft on the roof gives GB some personality. Otherwise the town wouldn't be much more than any other boring truckstop sort of town.
A few well-made metal dinosaurs were also on display outside a Shell station in town, welcoming drivers to fuel up.
The one historic building--Just one!--was a turn-of-the-century Stout's Hotel off the Main street. The building looked lonely without any surrounding historic buildings. There really wasn't much else in GB to see.
Terrain around us became more stern and monotone as we made our way toward the Colorado River. The few trees other than gnarled palo verdes were along the rest stops. At one rest stop called "Burned Well" I came across several legume-like trees I've not seen in southeastern Arizona. The pods were rather large and the seeds resembled pine nuts. I collected a few seeds and hope to propagate a few next summer when nighttime lows will allow propagation.
A man walking his aging 14-year-old black-and-tan German shepherd stopped a few trucks from ours. The dog was visbly arthritic. The owner had to hold the dog upright as it stumpled to stand up again. It was a loving sight to see an older man treat his older dog in such a tender manner. I dread the day I have to treat Sara with the same tenderness and care. I don't think it will take her 14 years, though. I think she's already in the stage of arthritis that requires me to get her medical attention. If she could speak I'm sure she would be honest with me and tell me where it hurts.
"This part of Arizona really isn't that pretty" I admitted to Kevin.
"It's all in the eyes of the beholder; I think it's beautiful here," he replied.
At Quartzite we got off the Interstate and resumed our travel on State Road 95. I was expecting the town to be overrun by RVs and Snowbirds, according to Kevin's stories. Sure, we saw lots of RVs in all directions, but it wasn't the "millions and millions" that Kevin had mentioned. Either we hadn't seen the height of the RV season, retirees are staying home, or they haven't arrived yet. What we did see were RV sale lots, RV repair shops, shops catering to RV owners, and retirees out enjoying the mild weather.
State Road 95 from here became even more interesting, not so much in any unique beauty but in the roadside RVs parked off the road. So now I learned why RVers came to this area: not so much for the mild winter weather, but because RVers are allowed to park their rigs on Bureau of Land Management lands for free! We saw many small groups of RVers parked on small hilltops, with trailers hawling ATVs behind. Here is where snowbirds with a sense of adventure come to park their "homes" and ride the dirt trails of the Sonoran-Mohave Deserts. If they run out of water they can just go to a nearby riverfront state park and replenish their tanks, or buy water and propane at gas stations along the route.
I can't blame people for wanting to come here for the winters. Here, despite the endless groups of RVs in all directions, there is still open space and solitude among the arid air and red rocks. I'd take this as a wintering ground over any place in South Texas, even the shore that is grossly over-polluted and oily.
At Quartzite we got off the Interstate and resumed our travel on State Road 95. I was expecting the town to be overrun by RVs and Snowbirds, according to Kevin's stories. Sure, we saw lots of RVs in all directions, but it wasn't the "millions and millions" that Kevin had mentioned. Either we hadn't seen the height of the RV season, retirees are staying home, or they haven't arrived yet. What we did see were RV sale lots, RV repair shops, shops catering to RV owners, and retirees out enjoying the mild weather.
State Road 95 from here became even more interesting, not so much in any unique beauty but in the roadside RVs parked off the road. So now I learned why RVers came to this area: not so much for the mild winter weather, but because RVers are allowed to park their rigs on Bureau of Land Management lands for free! We saw many small groups of RVers parked on small hilltops, with trailers hawling ATVs behind. Here is where snowbirds with a sense of adventure come to park their "homes" and ride the dirt trails of the Sonoran-Mohave Deserts. If they run out of water they can just go to a nearby riverfront state park and replenish their tanks, or buy water and propane at gas stations along the route.
I can't blame people for wanting to come here for the winters. Here, despite the endless groups of RVs in all directions, there is still open space and solitude among the arid air and red rocks. I'd take this as a wintering ground over any place in South Texas, even the shore that is grossly over-polluted and oily.
I could have stopped at Quartzite to look at the many vendors selling rocks and minerals, but Kevin was in a hurry. Swap stores, used appliance stores seem to be the big businesses even after the Snowbird leave for more northern climes come early spring.
Parker was our first reststop along this stretch of road. We gassed up for $1.71 in town, at a station across from a trailer selling various Jerkies and nuts. Kevin walked here while I gassed up, and came back with a pound of cashews he paid $6 for. The nuts were a hold-over for dinner we had reserved for Lake Havasu City, our destination for today.
Palmtrees were now popping up along the river and canyons off the river. The one naturally-growing palmgrove today is outside Quartzite but we didn't stop to admire it. Now, north of Parker, the palms were more numerous and landscaped into the endless array of new subdivisions of upscale and large riverfront homes. Nothing along this stretch of road into Lake Havasu City looked old or "lived in." More developments were cleared along the roads. If there is a housing slump in Arizona it is not along the Colorado River here!
I was pleasantly surprised at how pretty the area was despite the excessive land development. Granted, the small communities along the river catered mostly to winter dwellers. The houses were right next to one another. Anything green was concentrated along the river, with dry mountains and hills to the east of the highway. But the surrounding mountains and the glistening river added natural beauty to a landscape of asphalt and and cement.
What does irk me is seeing golf courses in a desert landscape. Green grass like the kind used in golf courses is not native to the Southwest. The green grass looks unnatural in an environment that is otherwise dominated by dry annual desert bunch grasses, cacti and palo verdes. But it is these golfcourses that white retirees from northern states want when they live here six months of the year. They come to Arizona to avoid their own harsh winters, yet demand all the ammenities of the northern climate here. Landscapers should try to build desert oasis in places like St.Paul, MN and see how that works!
Retirees who want to play golf all summer should winter in Florida.
The river became more scenic the closer we made it to LHC. We stopped briefly at the Parker Dam to check on the river: it was rather calm and narrow south of the dam at this point. lWhen we finally arrived in town at 2:30pm we were relieved to get done with driving and start exploring the town. A walk and bike trail followed the main street, and hotels and restaurants lined along the one attraction in this 100% man-made area: the famed London Bridge.
"THAT's the London Bridge?" asked Kevin as we walked under it. This was clearly the tourist attraction, with middle-aged cone-licking tourists sitting on riverfront benches. "I expected it to be a lot bigger than this, with towers and stuff!"
"This is an old stone bridge that was spanned across the Thames in London. There are many "London Bridges" and this is one of them. You didn't look at the website of this place, huh?" I told him back.
We didn't stay long. The sidewalk was too crowded with tourists, screaming kids and pooping pigeons. Man-made stuff is not the kind of stuff we enjoy seeing, although the bridge at night did look nice. Underneath the bridge is where the tourists lingered, with the cheap t-shirt shops and ice cream vendors along the side walk.
The river became more scenic the closer we made it to LHC. We stopped briefly at the Parker Dam to check on the river: it was rather calm and narrow south of the dam at this point. lWhen we finally arrived in town at 2:30pm we were relieved to get done with driving and start exploring the town. A walk and bike trail followed the main street, and hotels and restaurants lined along the one attraction in this 100% man-made area: the famed London Bridge.
"THAT's the London Bridge?" asked Kevin as we walked under it. This was clearly the tourist attraction, with middle-aged cone-licking tourists sitting on riverfront benches. "I expected it to be a lot bigger than this, with towers and stuff!"
"This is an old stone bridge that was spanned across the Thames in London. There are many "London Bridges" and this is one of them. You didn't look at the website of this place, huh?" I told him back.
We didn't stay long. The sidewalk was too crowded with tourists, screaming kids and pooping pigeons. Man-made stuff is not the kind of stuff we enjoy seeing, although the bridge at night did look nice. Underneath the bridge is where the tourists lingered, with the cheap t-shirt shops and ice cream vendors along the side walk.
It was 70F at 3pm when we got to the river. This was t-shirt weather.
We had just enough time to try two Brewpubs in town: the Mudshark and the Barley Brothers. Kevin was especially fond of the Mudshark Amber Ale, but we left after two beers (I had one) when we learned that the usual Happy Hour prices were not in effect today. Pints were $4.25.
So we tried the Barley Brothers brewpub, a nice restaurant overlooking the London Bridge. For atmosphere I'd go here, but the pub was out of their Lager version and I tried a Hefeweizen. Not bad. But the Oatmeal Stout was better. Kevin was not impressed with his Amber Ale.
We finished off the evening at Chuy's across from our hotel. It's a California chain that also has stores all over Arizona. I've always liked their Jumbo Burritos but I stopped going there as often once I learned that the chain tends to hire illegal immigrants for their kitchen work (and white college kids for their wait staff). Here is where Kevin finished off his beer fix for the night as we both dined on a burrito each. I drank water. The restaurant was quiet and ideal for our need to calm down after all the hussle along the river.
We could see the red mountains of California turn from bright orange to red to purple as the sun set.
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