Fatigue and Happiness in Mojave

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”

I started out my morning at Edwards AFB.

Getting onto a restricted military installation isn’t nearly as tragic as I imagined or might have hoped. It was pretty simple really. Sit in a room with guards while they run a background check on you. Then have someone at the installation vouch for you who submits all of their important details to the guards. This is compiled and you are handed temporary credentials. If you screw up while on base you are both screwed. I’m not sure how many military installations I’ve been on at this point, but this is the first one I needed clearance to step foot on.

This morning started out with helping to load up my brother-from-another-mother’s car, and his family, for their continuing journey across the country for reassignment. I didn’t mind trying to wear James out, as I just followed him as he ran around everywhere, seeming to lock on to any out of place twig, dandelions, and snake holes. He did pretty good about stopping in his tracks when I requested, something that I’m sure saved his life. He doesn’t listen to much of anything else though, and will test your power given the chance.

If he refused, I insisted, and when he still refused, I just picked him up and moved him a few feet towards the direction I wanted him to go. As you’d expect any two year old to, he was drawn if not compelled to move towards anything that could completely wreck his clothes and make his parents more miserable. The few times he got forced into a different direction were finding the patch of mud generated by the sprinklers, the sprinklers themselves, and the snake hole we found. I even spotted it long before he did, and told myself that I knew he’d find it. He doesn’t disappoint.

After everyone was packed away in our respective vehicles we had one more destination as a group, and that was to check out some Joshua Trees (or Yucca) on base. The children were confined securely in their car seats while the adults checked out the trees. I’m sure they weren’t happy about this condition, but that’s how it works when you’re a child.

A Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia)

From there, in what seemed to be a scene straight out of a movie, we drove side by side to the nearest intersection. To the north, the North Gate of the installation where they needed to go, to the south was my route to the West Gate. We pulled up to the stop sign, waved our goodbyes and drove away in separate directions.

One of my goals on this trip was to see an SR-71 Blackbird. The reason for this is because I did a little research on the area before this trip and found out that it originated from there. There was a marker somewhere at some rest stop that also confirmed it. I also wanted to visit the Nasa museum on base, but it wasn’t open on Sundays. On my way towards the West Gate I saw that SR-71. I should post the image, but I don’t have it ready as of this post.

Another 15 miles pass and I’m still on base, and haven’t really seen anything more than sand. I can see mountains off in the distance but they are really faint. Not sure just how far away they were. I know there has to be a gate somewhere, but at this point I was wondering just how big this base really was. At some point I pulled over and grabbed this shot.

Nothing to see here.

Finally I made it to the West Gate, which is still another 5+ miles before the edge of base. They have what I believe is called an active barricade system. There are signs warning you of this, so I’m sure it’s for a reason. Basically there are large barricades mounted in the roadway that can spring up to form walls in a matter of seconds. So if you are say trying to escape base, they can stop you with several active barricades.

There are also concrete walls, razor wire, and what I call God’s Jacks. I don’t know their actual name, but they look like a giant set of Jacks (you know, those 6-pointed things that you pick up when you bounce the ball). You have to weave through a slalom course of barricades and jacks at the West Gate. It was sort of fun, but since it’s right next to the guard shack I sort of felt like I was taking my driving test again.

This slalom to exit base would prove as a warm up for later in the trip. I decided yesterday that with all the construction on the 5 Freeway, I’d take the Angeles Forest Highway back. Sure it’s  curvy, and a long way to go, but it’s gotta be scenic and better than sitting stopped on the 5. So I went over the mountains, instead of around the mountains.

Over the mountains is the scenic way to Grandma's house.

The trip over, or through, the mountains is definitely a drive that everyone should make at least once. Aside from the racing packs of motorcycles, the drive features a true test of a vehicle. Since it’s a rental car, and I got the waiver, I was going to see how well this Mazda3 they gave me handles, whether I really wanted to or not.

Normally when you see a speed limit sign that 30mph, you can easily do over that. On this pass, when it says 30, that is the actual max speed. At least for the rental car. At maximum posted speed through this route, it sounded like the Foley work for a Dukes of Hazzard chase. The tires were screeching and squealing. The knuckles were white. And the Escalade in front of me almost went over the side (at which point I would have shouted ‘Yee-Haw’ before trying to find a spot to pull over and help (as if it would be possible to help).

If you checked out the link above you can see just how it’s mostly curves. So it definitely keeps you awake, and it’s much more exciting than sitting stopped in traffic. It seems to be a favorite for thrill seekers as there were more motorcycles, Porches, and even bicyclists speeding down through the route. At one point there were five of us stuck behind a bicyclist who wouldn’t let anyone by him. Even though we were following a bicycle, he was still traveling at over 50mph through the straightaways.

After what seemed like forever and a workout, LA reared its ugly head, and a hazy, smoggy, La Cañada Flintridge popped out from the haze. At that point there were still several miles of switchbacks to go through. Keep in mind that the uphill and downhill portions of the trip are usually at a 7-8% grade. So uphill that little 4-cylinder engine was screaming, and downhill I was riding the brakes the whole time. At one point when the road opened/straightened to four lanes in La Cañada Flintridge I threw it in neutral and let off the brake. It was sort of a The World According To Garp moment, without the subsequent car crash in the driveway.

A short trip down the freeway and I was finally in my neighborhood. First thing I did when I got home was take a nap. I need a car so I can take more weekend trips out of the city. Doing all of that on a motorcycle wouldn’t be nearly as fun, except for maybe the mountain driving. The desert driving would probably suck on bike. The one couple I saw on a motorcycle while I was north of California City somewhere didn’t seem to be enjoying the ride. 103F and severe winds just don’t sound like fun to me, but in the car at least I had shade.