Wind raged all night, but finally tapered off slightly around 6.  Quick coffee … trailer ready … all pumps off …. everything that can jump off shelves/counters secured … said goodbye to Craig . .  . on the road by 7am.  Literally had the road to ourselves . . . it was an event to meet another vehicle or see a bend in the road.  Straight roads to the horizon.  Landscape becoming more and more arid . . . scrubby, almost dead-looking bushes thinning out . . . still the roadside creosote bushes waving in the wind.

An abandoned Gas station in the middle of nowhere is bestrewn with old shoes and sneakers . . . not exactly sure why . . . but it’s marked on the map.

At Parker, on the border of California and Arizona we stopped for breakfast.  A quick McDonalds egg McMuffin, we thought.  Older lady behind the plexiglass shield, picking  her fingernails –”Nope … we’re on lunch menu!”  It’s only 10:30 in the morning!  Well, Subway then . . .  they have a scrambled egg breakfast sandwich.  “Sorry, we ran out of eggs!”  “What, it’s only mid morning”. Alright, a regular Sandwich then.  Groceries at Safeway . . .  and while gassing up I spotted a Bud Light Beer delivery driver who was smoking, talking on his cell phone AND operating a hand cart.

Quartzsite is renowned for “Boondocking” . . . a place where people can ‘dry camp’ for free  (no hook-ups).  Bring your own water and have holding tanks   . . .  20 miles of ‘pick-your’own’ campsites.  They cater for RVs and campers . . . booths where people can buy things . . .  get water . . . have sewer services . . . often convention events.  Also the nearby town is set with all manner of RV ‘stuff’.  It was pretty quiet when we arrived, so acres of places to pick from.  We have a lovely spot . . . trees and bushes to buffer the prevailing winds, and well distanced from any other camper.  18C (65F).  Considering BC has a cold front . . . we’ll take it.

Apologies . . .  it has been pointed out <grin> that I omitted to mention the Road Runner who made a brief appearance in Joshua Tree, I included a photo but went on to talk about California Quail (for which I didn’t have a photo). Disappointingly, the Roadrunner did not go “beep, beep”. . .  nor did the Coyotes we heard yip, yip, yodeling at dawn wield paintbrushes and have regular packages from Acme!

There was a sprinkling of rain overnight but looking out this morning, everywhere appears bone dry again, and despite patches of blue sky, dramatic-looking dark clouds glower . . .  threatening more rain. The mountains look an uninviting deep grey, too.  With no sun to activate the solar panels and charge batteries over the next couple of days, we decided to reserve a place in Gila Bend (great name) with all hookups.  We’ll be prepared for the following 3 days at Organ Pipe Cactus reserve.

Swung through the town of Quartzsite itself . . .  one would be complimentary in describing it as a blend of wild west …. Value Village … and a junk swap meet. RV parks jammed together – most were intensely ugly, but a few ‘nicer’ ones boasted a couple of palm trees.  No doubt anything is obtainable here . . .  rocks, gems, guns, knives, kettle corn, RV stuff galore.  Great roadside sign advertising “RV Proctologist – holding tanks cleaned”.

A steady stream of freight hauling trucks to and from Phoenix . .  .. FedEx, UPS, Amazon, steel pipe, milk and oil tankers, cement, rock, cars, new trailers, houses . .  . you name it.  We seem to be keeping just on the edge of rain . . . behind us blue sky and puffy clouds.  The sprinkling of wet has brought the Rabbit Bushes into brilliant yellow bloom, and the roadsides are attractively edged with pale blond and orange grasses .  . . . and a tasteful line of shredded black truck retreads.

Gila Bend has startlingly green fields . . .  a nice change . . . and apparently is home to the 2^nd largest natural gas plant in the country, plus a major producer of solar power.  What it doesn’t have . .  . is a grocery store.  Thankfully we had stocked up in Parker, just needed a couple of items.  Google only offered up five dollar stores, and a Mercado de Amigos.  (the dollar stores sell milk, eggs and canned goods, but no meat).  We drove along Main Street to get gas – no Mercado visible.  Drove back down Main Street . . .  nothing.  But once more, Miss Google was insistent,  “turn right here“.  But this is ‘Don Jose’s Burritos restaurant’!! We went in to ask . . . and lo and behold  this was the Market!  I guess one has to live here to know where it is!  Neat place though.  Excellent meat counter — beautiful yellow skinned chicken thighs and legs .  . .  plump, pink pork chops, some kind of marinated chicken floating in a yellow liquid (?) . . .  two kinds of ground up Chorizo (probably like the stuff in Mexico and not at all spicy, but we have spices!) . .  . fresh prawn tails, and some delicious-looking fresh salsa too.

Down the road 7 minutes to the Sonoran Dessert RV park.  Speed limit 9½ mph!  The owner gets grumpy with people driving over 10!  Pleasant place … clean, neat, quiet (apart from the distant highway noise) . . .  and capacious pull-throughs … our little rig is quite lost in its vastness. Quarter-to-five . . . . bit too early for a beer?  Hold on a minute . . . we’re in Arizona, it’s an hour later! Everything ‘pluggable’ is plugged in and re-charging.  Toasted up flour tortillas on the griddle . . .  spread them with refried beans, spicy chorizo, salsa and grated cheese.  Yum.

Not sure what kind of WiFi we’ll have at Organ Pipe National Park, so I’ll send this early.

Joshua Tree State Park was beyond all expectations, and photos don’t really do it justice. Light in the desert is so fickle . . . what appears a perfect shot turns out flat-looking or too contrasty.  Early morning, late afternoon always best.  Vast tumbling piles of red-gold granite rocks, deep blue sky and green tufted Joshua Trees in every direction.  Incredible shapes and illusions, impossibly balanced slabs or spheres . . . an absolute rock climbers dream.  And there were dozens of them.  But what were they carrying?  Looked like . . . .  foam mattresses?  Apparently, when one is learning to climb, these ‘foamies’ are laid on the ground to lessen any minor falls.  A chilling thought when looking at the intensely rough granite surface . . . skin would be shredded in an instant.

A stop at the Teddy Bear Cholla (pronounced ‘choya’) cactus garden . . .  creamy white fuzzy clumps which only seem to grow at an altitude between 1000 and 3000ft. It’s strange to see such a huge area covered with just one type of plant.  Despite warning signs, people still insisted on taking their dogs along the trails.  Those long spines are brutal .  . .  we spent an hour removing them with tweezers from the soles of our hiking boots.  What chance would dog feet have.

Couldn’t understand why everywhere was so busy on a Monday, until a passerby remarked that it was President’s Day.  Pioneertown – an old cowboy movie set started by Roy Rogers and Gene Autry was also packed so took some photos and left.  There were some prickly characters wearing sunglasses!

Oh oh . . . text from Craig to say Wind increasing over next two days . .  with the possibility of snow! Well, we are at 3,000 feet.  Checked all the weather apps to find the least windy route . . . and planned for an early start tomorrow.

Awoke to sun streaming in the window around 7, intense blue skies and glorious Joshua Trees everywhere . .  . looking for all the world like those dancing inflatable ‘stick people’ outside car lots . . . just frozen in place.  A cactus wren was wheezing loudly like a miniature car trying to start. Craig has lived in this location for 35 years . . . and it’s spectacular!  Dry rock wall planters filled with every shape and size of cactus . . .  vast clumps of prickly pears, tall, slow-growing saguaro (only six feet after 30 years) . . .   fat, round Barrel Cactus with intricate swirls of spines . . . and soft, fuzzy-looking ones – which definitely aren’t!  The fine spines break off easily and can get tracked indoors on your shoes . . . and into your feet.  Good to be forewarned. Craig’s wife Ellie had been a superb photographer and the house is filled with her stunning photos.

Nice to have a few days downtime.  Relaxing in the sun . . . chores around the trailer . . .   laundry drying in the sun . . . and what a location to practice guitar – the altitude and clear air makes everything sound wonderful (even for dreadful amateurs like me!)  The Californian quail didn’t seem to mind.

BTW . .  those oranges were fresh off the tree, and peeling them posed a health and safety hazard.  Zest squirted every which way into eyes and juice ran down our arms … just from the peel … but it was worth the watering eyes and sticky armpits.

An afternoon wander through the desert amid silvery-stemmed creosote bushes, angular Joshua trees and countless varieties of cacti . .  . took care to avoid the millions of awaiting thorns at every turn.  The ‘Washes’ like small dry river beds where run-off from sudden floods had eroded the sand. Mysterious holes . . . under shrubs or in open sand . . .  wonder what sort of critters live there.  Probably not wise to poke a finger down to see.  A sudden movement – and off went a Jack Rabbit . . . long ears glowing red in the sun.  Two ravens watched us curiously, hopping from tree to tree, careful to keep just ahead.

Late afternoon the wind picked up – light at first, but gusting strongly.  I rescued my washing from being blown down the valley and folded it quickly – love the smell of line-dried clothes.  Then we battened down the hatches as the wind increased . . . things rattled, clanked and shook till around 3 or 4am (thank goodness for earplugs), but had eased considerably by dawn.  Our friend the cactus wren piped up shortly afterwards.

Frozen waffles this morning – no need for a toaster — amazing how well a cast iron frying pan and a saucepan lid work.

There was a tag on our campsite number post  . . . “#49 – Reserved for Tonight”.  Erm . . . weren’t we number 48?  We counted them off last night.  Another look … and sure enough this was 49 . . . 48 across the road and over one was a perfectly accessible site which would have been a cinch to park in . . . even in the dark.  No explanation as to why the Parks people had suddenly switched sides when numbering Odd and Even sites.  Good job there were tons of empty spots last night – wouldn’t have been much fun having someone banging on the door at three in the morning demanding their spot.  The Park Rangers must have wondered , but  they politely didn’t say anything other than “Good Morning”, but probably thought “Crazy Canucks!”

More spectacular high winding road and dramatic coastline, but yet again the light and/or lack of pull outs made photo taking useless.

Oooo!  Elephant Seal View Point!  But it was crammed with vehicles and people wielding cameras, so we carried on.  And just a mile or so further on we were rewarded with a wide parking area and just a couple of RVs.  We made sandwiches and sat in the sun watching the waves as lazy hawks drifted the air currents right in front of us and egrets posed theatrically on the rocks.  Just down the beach a family of elephant seals reposed in the sun . . . indistinguishable from logs except for the occasional twitch and wobble of the nose.

Disappointingly, Hearst Castle was closed  . .. but what a spot he’d picked to build . . . high in the hills overlooking the valley and ocean.  Passed through Weymouth with an intriguing sign for Nitt Witt Ridge!  To be honest, the countryside did resemble Dorset and Exmoor with green hills and rocky tors – however that illusion was shattered when a clump of prickly cactus or an oasis of palm trees suddenly hove into view.

Carmel township . . . . wonder if Clint Eastwood is still mayor? Gorgeously tiled villas, rock walls cascading with bougainvillea, views over a wickedly rugged coast.  A sign on the roadside “Retreat … Deep Books … Sanctuary … Holy Granola!”

Morro Bay – the campsite appears to be a continuation of the golf course, not helped by the fact we missed the camp turn off the first time!  Massive Morro Rock dominates the bay, rather like a miniature Rio de Janeiro.  The estuary was abuzz with wildfowl . . .  herons and egrets standing like statues, eagle-eyed . . .  Buffle-heads bobbing like toy ducks . . . a merganser or two . . . and flights of cormorants and pelicans . . . but the sound was amazing . .  a symphony of calls.  There were kayaks to be rented . . . and for the budget-minded who still wanted the convenience of a … well, ‘public convenience’ . . . there was this lovely colourful little model on its very own trailer.

The next morning we drove past the California Men’s Colony with watch towers and barbed wire-topped walls.  I guess we don’t pick up hitchhikers, especially ones in orange jump suits!

Ranch country . . . miles upon miles of hilly grassland with cows happily chewing under wide branching shade trees.  Buelton … apparently home of the Split Pea Soup.  Hmm considering the Greeks and Romans have been cultivating this legume for millennia (around 400 BC) . .  . the peas porridge of nursery rhyme fame and Habitant soup . . . I’m inclined to doubt this. <grin>

Carpentaria . . .  extremely popular with campers from Los Angeles (only 100 km) so it seems we were lucky to get in.  A shoe horn would have been a handy tool as there was so little wiggle-room – especially for a truck and trailer.  Lots of darting about shouting instructions . . .  “Two feet this way” . .  . “Watch that RV nose” . .  . “6 inches more”.  And of course there’s always an audience . . . sitting in deck chairs, sunhats, beverage in hand.  Wise enough not to offer advice but ready to commiserate when something goes wrong.

Settled rattled nerves with a restorative cup of tea on the beach . .  . fine white sand with piles of curiously-shaped sandstone rocks.  Bit of a shallow lagoon at one end.  Reported to be ‘the safest beach in the world’ . . .  don’t you just love these claims?  Looking at the thunderous waves rushing up the beach, I’m somewhat skeptical . . . don’t think I’d be anxious to take small children or dogs for a paddle.  In among the usual shore birds, one larger specimen stood out . . . it’s impossibly long, curved beak almost as long as the bird itself.  Google search … ah!  A long-billed Curlew.  Carefully pacing about the wet sand, probing below the surface for small crustacians.  Another curious creature could be seen stalking the shoreline – a Lesser-Hatted, Canvas-Backed Metal Detectorist.  My favourites though were the flocks of tiny Sanderlings . . . scurrying down to the surf line, then rushing back up the sand to avoid getting their toes wet . . . little legs going so fast they seem to glide like ball bearings.  Could watch them for hours.

“Quick” said Glen as we BBQ’d burgers. . . “the sun’s going down”.  It was too . . . . a masterpiece in shades of orange and black silhouettes.

Eastwards now . . . well, a bit of hair-raising freeway first, but we still have fingernails.  Unattractive dry hills skirting around L.A. covered with small oil rigs and round, flat storage tanks – with unlikely place names like Soledad Canyon and Olive View!  The highway climbs and climbs and climbs some more.  Much nicer now, Lemon groves – both sides of the road as far as the eye could see . .  . changing to the gold of oranges.

With it being a Friday night and most campgrounds full, we contacted a church halfway along the route to asked if it would be possible to park overnight and be gone by morning light.  No problem, replied the pastor . . . we planned to leave a donation.  As it turned out, we didn’t need it. Despite the endless, tedious stop-and-go of road works . . . the dog-eat-dog performance at the gas station where people brazenly cut in, including a Mary Kay representative in tight skirt and sparkly pink stilettos who then minced purposefully into the store without a backwards glance.  We decided to push on to Joshua Tree.

It’s a different world out here.  High flat, flat, flat plateau . . . Joshua Trees and scrubland with a rim of arid mountains waaay in the distance and sudden outcrops of rocks glowing in the late afternoon sun.   Dozens and dozens of old RVs, Trailers and wooden shacks sprinkled about like children’s building blocks . . . some derelict and abandoned . . .  although many are occupied.  I guess the living is inexpensive.

As the sun dipped down behind the mountain ridge and dusk fell, we descended into Joshua Tree.  Craig texted us instructions, but in the dimming light we twice drove past the well-hidden sandy road, before a successful turn.  But finally, there in front of us was the dark figure of Craig waving from the middle of the road, and we glided into the wide open sweep of driveway with a sigh of relief.