Ouch . . .  crossed back into California, and gas prices have jumped.  Two stations, side by side – $5.40 and $6.50 . . .  Chevron is always the most expensive.  Still waaay cheaper than Canada . . . and way, WAY less than Europe (in the region of £11+ per gallon).

Walls of baled hay on the roadside advertise the type available . . .  straw-coloured … golden . .  . brown . . . green (latter being alfalfa).

First major Border Patrol check.  The usual hanger-like structure . . .  freight trucks to the right, other traffic to the left.  Smile pleasantly, but get a steely eyed response and a slight beckon forward . .  . does he want us to stop? I guess we don’t look too suspicious, and the dogs haven’t detected anything, so he waves us on through.  Immediately the highway splits – 78 to the left . .  . 86 to the right.  We go left.

Landscape changes like going through a door . .  . sand, sand everywhere . . . little hillocks with tufts of greenery . . . dry, dusty hills in the distance.  Apart from a couple of small habitations, there’s not a lot out here.  Road to Anza Borrego  and suddenly there’s a huge downward dip and rise the other side . . . talk about roller coaster!  I hope there’s a place to buy milk, water and a few supplies before we enter the State Park.  Needn’t have worried, two miles from the park is the delightful town of Anza Borrego Springs is  laid out around a giant traffic circle – Christmas Roundabout!  A lovely town plaza . . .  in the round.  A small grocery store . . . but it and the Mall were brand new and well stocked.  Supplies no problem . .  . great-looking tenderloin steaks, mushrooms, asparagus and potatoes for dinner.  Mmmmm.

And Wow . . . although our campsite is compact and cosy, just look at those palm trees with their hula skirts and ‘elephant feet’  . . .  wouldn’t Mum have liked those!

Got the bikes out and had fun riding around the campsite . . . down the road to the visitors’ centre . . . and looping back to the campsite.  There were cactus in bloom . . . what looked like a ‘lipstick plant’ . . . and miniscule blue and white flowers.

Wind picked up overnight . . .  chairs are still there, but blown over.  SO glad our tenting days are over . . .  there are people out there bundled up in jackets and toques . . . hanging onto cooler lids, flapping tents, plates of breakfast, small children . . .  struggling to get camp stoves lit for coffee.  No … thank … you!    When you hear on the news about wildfires in California, NOW one can see what a huge factor wind is. A matter of minutes and a whole valley could be engulfed.  Um . .  . was that . . . next doors’ chihuahua that just went by? <just an observation – as we tucked into scrambled eggs, toast and marmalade>.

NOTE: Inadvisable to check that the stove hood vent is open, while fan is running.  One way to trim your nails, I suppose!

Mid morning . . .  calm and hot once more.  There are sandy trails criss-crossing the whole valley floor and up into the hills.  Took a moderately steep half mile track up to a view point – overlooking the campsite, valley and surrounding mountains.  Spotted a family of 5 mountain sheep/goats on the rocks below – warily keeping an eye on us.  As you can see from the leader’s blue collar and ear tag, these are obviously monitored by parks people.  We could have done with their sure-footedness on the loose shale and rocks on the way down.

Back at camp we were serenaded by a noisy Cactus Wren, but also the lovely fluted calls of a Northern Mockingbird . . . switching effortlessly from one ‘borrowed’ song to another.  A cheeky ground squirrel peeped out from under a bush, sitting up to nibble something it had found.  A road runner just ran through our campsite!  I gave chase with  camera and managed a reasonable photo.

Clouds began to drift over the mountain tops . . . small, white fluffy ones  . . . then bigger ones like large meringues . . . more ominously, darker ones blocking out the sun and threatening rain . . . you could see shafts of rain all ’round the mountains.  Thunderclaps . . . but no lightening.  A splattering of rain drops . . . the ‘rain event’ had blown over and blue skies returned.  Drove into town for a few groceries and a look around.  Both grocery stores have a great selection for such a small place.

The sound of owls Hooting to each other across the paddock lulled us to sleep . .  . and a chorus of song birds (and ever present Wood pigeons’ hooHOOhuh) woke us this morning.  Very pleasant.

Yesterday when we pulled in and opened up the trailer . . . there was a stowaway!  The tiniest Zebra jumping spider sitting on the bathroom door.  Lifted its front pair of legs in greeting . . . and peered up cheekily.  I carefully encouraged it onto a piece of kitchen towel, and s/he was deposited on a nearby log.  A neighbouring spider (different species) took grave exception to this interloper – from Arizona no less – and rushed out to defend its territory.  A passing aphid just hoped to be overlooked by both.

Groves of olive trees . . . a driveway lined with pomegranates, agave and bird of paradise plants – not quite in leaf. . .  fields of alfalfa newly mown, drying in the sun . . . and behind us an expanse of sugar beets.  We sat in the shade watching planes loop-the-loop way off to the west . .  . leaving ‘hearts’ and ‘circles’ in wispy white smoke . .  . practising perhaps?  A chopper swooped in low over the olive and palm trees before banking away . . . finished for the day.  The spray bars either side quite evident . . . but fortunately not in use!

Although the trailer has a large holding tank for fresh water, which is great for washing, cooking, washing up etc. we also have 5 gallon and 1 gallon containers for potable drinking water.  Just realized that the hand pump on the big tank sounds remarkably like an alpaca!

Despite an unexpected problem in the farm’s bottling shop, Clive was generous with his time . . . explaining the olive oil process.  The trees here on the farm are for looks only . .  . there are 40,000 others in nearby Westmorland which are pruned so that machinery does the harvesting . . . not the old traditional methods of using nets handpicking/beating the trees.  Like many places it’s getting increasingly difficult to rely on consistent workers.  And what an array of products . . . classic extra virgin oil, but also flavoured with lemon … orange.. basil… jalapeno … Mediterranean … green chili.  Multi-flavoured dipping oils .. . balsamic vinegar . . . jars of olives .  . honey.  What to choose!  All grown/harvested/produced here at Desert Olive farm.  And there’s no downtime . .  . it produces 365 days a year . . .  9 crops of alfalfa . . .  the sugar beets for processing into white sugar . . . and the day we arrived they’d just processed a million pounds of onions!  Their main store is located in Yuma – which is where Grace spends much of her time – but we were in luck.   A crop duster had just arrived to say the winds were good, were we OK with him spraying Sulphur on a neighbouring field in about an hour . . . just as Grace arrived.  So we had a good chat, finished packing, and headed off . . .  no pongy rotten egg smell!

Well, we survived camping in a parking lot.  Not much different from a regular campsite – just the view out the window was a little different.  Must admit it was a little unsettling to be sat on the loo . . .  and hear people chatting as they walked by on the other side of a thin wall!!

Passed the other plane ‘graveyard’ at Pinal Air Park at Marana Arizona . .  . this one for commercial planes.  Although it claims NOT to be a boneyard – merely a storage facility for commercial airlines . . .  many of the planes do end up being scrapped.

There are cotton fields!  Well, there were before harvesting.  Now the fields are scattered with remnants of white puffy cotton balls – like polka dots.  Who knew!

Back through Gila Bend . . .  another chance to see monsters . .  . but no . .  . and we didn’t pick up any more ‘fragrant’ chorizo either. Another stream of freight trucks.  There’s a strange phenomenon which affects us as these monsters pass by – it’s almost as though our truck is suddenly pulled towards the rig next to us.  Obviously to do with the volume of air being pushed ahead of the transport truck . . . but why suck our truck in.  Then it dawned – the wall of air hits the trailer first, pushing it away, which in turn swings our truck in towards the rig’s cab, just as it comes level. Cause and effect!  Bit disconcerting in the beginning . . . and even now, one comes past with more  oomph.  Have to be on your toes!

Roadside verges are looking quite pretty now . . .  taller rabbit bushes covered in brilliant buttercup yellow blossoms, then lines of orange and blond grasses, descending in height . . . and finally, right along the road edge, a streak of purply-blue – teeny, tiny wild lupins.

Hmmm . . . what’s that smell?  It got stronger . . . and STRONGER.  Like a hundred over-flowing outhouses in full sun.  There’s the answer . . . a ginormous cattle feedlot . . .  probably with upwards of 100,000 cattle.  Even with windows tightly shut, the stench was overpowering.  What is dismaying though, is that surrounding these staggeringly huge cattle fattening establishments are miles and miles and miles of vegetable farms . . . all connected with irrigation canals, which in turn are connected to the main canal which has just collected the ‘effluvia’  from the cattle . .  . ready to irrigate the stuff you find in your ready-to-eat bagged salads.  Yum!

Solana Solar farm – at one time one of the largest concentrator type solar power producers.  Can power 70,000 houses and reduce atmospheric CO2 by 475,000 tons per year.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solana_Generating_Station  Hope that’s true.

With no response from the Harvest Host people in Yuma (it’s been two days), we decided to do another BLM camp overnight.  Land belonging to the Bureau of Land Management can be freely used by RVs and campers in Arizona and California (probably other states too).  No services, but handy – and widely used.  Usually off the main roads, so quite quiet . .  . you can see clumps of vehicles tucked away in all sorts of places.

Big sign at the Junction “Now entering US Army Proving Grounds.  Howard Cantonment Training Grounds”  and a large black tank to prove it. (Explains the rocket launchers we saw earlier!) The surrounding area looked well used . . . steep hillside gradients . . .  signs to “mud testing area” . . .  endless dunes and hummocks for troops and artillery to hide behind.  Didn’t see any activity . .  . but could hear the occasional “crump” of explosions in the distance.  I could see Hammond and Jeremy Clarkson having great fun here.

The place at Imperial Dam, however, was really rather nice . .  .. and the views spectacular.  Several camping areas available – we picked the first – Quail’s Hill.  A few RVs already there – looking like they were settled in for a good while.  A promontory overlooking the dam and valley seemed a likely spot.  We did wonder a bit when sitting with mugs of tea and bikkies poised, and the wind began gusting strongly once more.  Whoops . . . there go the mug caps.  Made a grab for one . . . the other will be halfway into Yuma by now!  Good job we have spares . . . and it did calm down later.

Dinner was a packaged Thai-style Coconut curry I’d picked up before leaving BC (“Tasty Bites”)  Made in India . . . with a list of easily recognizable ingredients and low sodium.  We threw in some leftover cooked chicken, red peppers and snow peas  . . . over Jasmine rice – it was DELICIOUS!  Spicily Hot – tastes homemade.  Will buy this brand again.  At Gila Bend (with Microwave available) I’d mixed up a Dr. Oetker ‘lemon drizzle’ cake.  Instructions were for oven baking only, but I added extra moisture — juice and peel from half a lemon, a touch more milk and microwaved a couple of minutes at a time till done.  The remaining lemon/peel went into the icing.  Again, amazingly good results – lots of lemony flavour.

The next day more back routes, courtesy of Miss Google . .  . all roads around here connect via a series of right-angles  . . .  to accommodate vast square fields, of course.  Every shade of green . . . from the dark blue/green cabbages and kale, to deep green onions . . .  lighter knobbly broccoli, to pale butter lettuce.  A wave to workers picking broccoli brought cheerful waves and shouts in response (I think they were waves!)  Looked backbreaking work.  Large, terracotta roofed haciendas with walled gardens and shade trees – obviously belonging to the owners.  Some ranches had nicely appointed houses for the workers – others offered communities of unappealing large  tents.  A pleasant-looking Education Centre for children with playground . . . right next door though was a cassino.

A stop at Imperial Date Gardens for a date shake . . . actually quite tasty . . . and daily ration of roughage too.

Gassed up in Yuma . . . probably the last time we’ll see gas below $4.00/gal — $3.89.

Erm .  . did we cross over into Egypt?  Those are sand dunes, and big ones too!  Bikes and dune buggies zooming up the slopes.  Apparently, a $50.00 permit is required to camp, drive over or even set foot on the Imperial Sand Dunes . . . so we’ll enjoy views from the rest stop, and carry on.

Even though the landscape appears dead flat . . . you can sure feel the strong head wind plus slight incline.  Signs cautioning Blowing Sand.  Three licence plates in quick succession . .  . Maine … Alaska … Oregon . .  . and us.

Tonight . . .  Desert Olive Farm.  Hope to learn all about olive oil.

It’s wonderful the things you see along the way.  Sign:  Grasshopper Yard Maintenance and Landscaping . . .  do they let loose a small plague of locusts onto your lawn to mow it? .  .  and all the rest of your plants too.  Arrows pointing to the town’s landfill site . .  . on Skyline View Drive!!

Several Border Patrol stations of varying size but all resembling aircraft hangers open both ends as you drive through.  You’re greeted with rumble strips and a barrage of electronics as you approach – presumably all manner of cameras and flashlights with which to identify license plates, car description, faces.  They have these as you exit as well, just in case you make a run for it.  But in each instance there is usually just one solitary guy sitting in his truck … bored stiff, on his cellphone …. taking not the slightest interest (and we have a trailer, remember . . . perfect for smuggling!).  But perhaps that’s what all the electronics are for . .  they already have us identified… know where we’ve been/had for breakfast etc.  It would be arduous in the extreme to attempt an illegal land crossing . .  . miles upon miles of inhospitable desert.  It’s difficult to move in the daytime for all the spines and thorns – would be impossible at night . . . and then there’re the hundreds of holes (and the creatures within) just waiting for an unwary foot.  No thanks.  Glen wondered if diversion tactics were ever used . . . a flatbed truck, perhaps, with  conspicuous Mariachi band, sombreros and serapes . . . . while groups disguised with blond wigs and bright red “Make America Great Again” hats sneaked through.  Although I make light of it, the situation is deadly serious.  One can only wonder at the desperation which would drive such an undertaking.

Entering Tucson there was a strange group of objects glinting in the sky off to the east . . .  but maneuvering through traffic, we lost sight.  Then on both sides of the road the tails of hundreds of military aircraft could be seen, parked – as far as the eye could see . . . bodies all painted white, their windows covered.  With a deep roar and thunderous BOOM, the mysterious objects materialized into a black fighter jet and accompanying support planes zooming overhead.  We were in Airforce Base Davis-Monthan territory . . . home to the world’s largest airplane boneyard. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Davis%E2%80%93Monthan_Air_Force_Base  They are also the sole training facility of the A-10 Thunderbolt II (the black jet we saw), and provide personnel/equipment for Search and Rescue missions around the world.

Little Anthony’s Gaslight Diner and Theatre is our stop for the night.  Part of Harvest Host, they have 3 spaces cordoned off in their parking lot for RVs . . . bit odd, I know … but it works.  Old 1950s/60s Diner and drive-in . . . . perfectly restored with shiny red seats and booths, memorabilia on the walls, excellent food with shakes, ice cream or pie to follow.  All portions were truly mammoth in size . .  . we wisely shared a dinner salad and plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy . . . even then, the portions filled two normal-sized dinner plates.  We watched in amazement as two elderly couples at a nearby table polished off entire platefuls each.  Thinking we’d have room for dessert, we were too stuffed – so took our apple pie and ice cream ‘to go’ (our trailer was parked just 30 feet away!)  Great oldies music . . . a DJ . . .  trivia questions with ice cream for winning answers. We left before the Elvis and Marilyn impersonators.  The theatre next door had a live comedy performance, which seemed well attended.  Earlier in the afternoon there had been an old car show . . . immaculately maintained vehicles with engines so shiny you could see your face.  Surely these can’t be driven on roads?  Obviously, a lifetime hobby judging by the age of most owners.  Fun to see . .  colourful too.  Despite misgivings about road noise and bright lights . . .  earplugs and towels over the windows afforded a surprisingly good night.