California part 3, and Las Vegas

Greetings!

I arrived back in Minnesota on Friday the 10th, so all these posts are now finishing my recollections of the trip. I realize that I often switch between tenses erratically in many of these posts. All I can tell you is that I switch tenses whenever my recollection changes, and it's my blog, so you'll just have to deal with it! /shrug

Days 20 and 21, 9-29/30-08:

I was invited to stay with my Aunt and Uncle, Carolyn and Dave Gilliam. They live in Tehachapi, California, which is about 30 miles East of Bakersfield.

Leaving my hotel in Soledad, CA around 10am (lots of politics to read) I set out across central California for Bakersfield and Tehachapi. There appears to be alot of agriculture taking place in this part of CA, which I'm sure will come as a surprise to everyone. But seriously, the part that did surprise me was the lack of water in any location not being actively cultivated. I didn't realize it until I drove through it, but the California fruits, vegetables and grains industry is almost entirely dependent on irrigation. Check out this link that illustrates the point if the land is not irrigated it is brown and a desert, but upon irrigation it turns bright green on the satellite maps. I was under the impression that the area was always marginal for agriculture, but had no idea it was that marginal. No wonder California is so big on water projects and politics.

Anyways, I arrive at the Gilliam's around 5pm. I had never met the Gilliam's before, as they had always lived in California. They are my relatives on mom's side, and have roots in Flint with her. I don't know much about Mom's family, but Aunt Gilliam showed me a suitcase full of pictures and portraits, including many of mom before she was mom. Surreal and enlightening are the adjectives that come to mind.

They live on a 4 acre ranch in the Bear Valley community of Tehachapi. It is a planned community with many different housing plans to suit the needs of horses, golfers, snow birds and everyone in between. They ride their two horses on the trails throughout the area, accompanied by their hyperactive and lovable dog Cleo. A tribe of cats rounds out the family.

I spent a day and a half there, biding my time between sleeping, a trip into town with Aunt Carolyn for supplies, and generally not driving. Thinking it a bit impolite to take pictures of someone's house, I have few images from this period, but here are a few of us as I left on the morning of the 30th.




Did I mention it's really bright in the desert? I'd like to thank the Gilliam's for their immense hospitality, steak, pork chops, apples, oil changes, and graduation gifts. You helped fulfill one of my trip's goals and speeded me along my route with love and consideration. Thanks!

Day 22, 10-1-08: Death Valley and Las Vegas

I departed around 8:30 from the Gilliam's ranch, making my way northeast along highway 14 -> 395 -> Death Valley NP. I planned a long driving day for getting through Death Valley on my way to Vegas, that in retrospect my squeaking brakes, squeaking clutch pedal, brake and clutch smells were agonizing over.


Death Valley is impressive, certainly, in terms of the stark differences between the flora and fauna of the Valley from the surrounding plateaus and mountains. What I wasn't prepared for were the amazing elevation changes that allowed those differences to occur. I know, right: "No sh-- Frank, Death Valley is below sea level out in the freaking Rockies!" but it's more complicated than that.

Death Valley was formed by the subduction of tectonic plates in coordination with the same forces that cause the San Andreas fault. I wondered whether these forces also formed the Grand Tetons like I alluded to in the Tetons post, along with the hot springs, etc in Yellowstone. Anyways, the whole valley didn't just erode away to its present below-sea-level form (even if that were possible) but rather the valley sank as plates were upended, and Death Valley fell between the plates as they buckled. If the area had more water the whole floor would fill to a many hundred of food deep lake. Yet the lake has no outlet, so it would be as salty and hostile to life as it is in its present drypan form.



What all this geology and whining about brakes and clutches means in practice is that:
1. Death Valley travel requires about 20,000 feet in total elevation change; there are 2 ridges that you need to cross into and out of the park.
2. The main descent from the east is 6000 feet in about 10 miles. 1/10 of a mile down per mile traveled. That's steep.
3. A--holes and f--ktards love tailgaiting into, around, about and everywhere imaginable involving Death Valley. And gods forbid the 32 foot long motorhomes should use the turnoffs. ever.

/fume

Anyways, after riding my brakes and clutch in unison with white-knuckled grip on my slippery driving wheel (to reduce overheating the AC is considered taboo for this drive. Personally I think the park rangers are just sadists for imposing this rule). I come to a wide spot in the road with the peculiar sign below.



The crazy thing is that it doesn't feel like you're at sea level. You're out in the middle of the desert Rockies, which your mind tells you are 3000 feet and above, right?

No? got me But I do trust my eyes for other things, and more than the sign, what really got me was this artifact and what happened to it during the drive:


What, a coke bottle? Yes, a but more importantly, what happened to it. Being from a low-lying part of the country for my life that only experiences with real elevation I've had prior to this trip was Philmont, a Boy Scout Ranch in New Mexico. But I didn't pay attention to this kind of stuff, so for all intents and purposes this was my first 'eyes open' exam of altitude.

I sealed this pop bottle at the top of the pass, 6000 feet.

And it imploded. All on its own. My nalgene bottles did the same thing, even as they are much thicker plastic. This was, well, astonishing to me. Perhaps that shows my naivete, but hey, it was cool to me. And it was as true a demonstration that I could think of of what Death Valley is. A Big Giant Hot Hole.

A pretty hole, to be sure, but hot. HOT. I could taste the dryness, the saltiness, the oppressive 'blech' of it all. And I realized how they could possibly make a contiguous 4000 or more square mile park without disturbing the people who live there:

No one in their right mind would want to live there.



I drove up the other side of the park and into Nevada. I wanted to drive past Groom Lake, Trinity and the other Department of Defense sites on my way to Vegas, so I took highway 95 from Death Valley. Alas, I was not abducted by aliens on the trip.

Or so I think?

Las Vegas next!