Back Where We Started

Little Red is our home. In the lonely resort of Panamint Springs, population about 5, Little Red offers safety, security and storage, as well as transportation. This morning we worried... again. The trunk latch balked. We tied down the door and headed 100 miles back to Pahrump and a GM dealer, back across the Mohave. Even at 8 a.m., in the cool of a winter morning, the sun-lashed flats stretched shimmering, a terrestrial hell.

As Andy and I drove, we talked about survival -- where the pioneers entered and exited Death Valley, how Charles Manson buried a retreat here far from civilized society, what it takes for two coyotes by the side of the road to stay alive. I reread Steinbeck. "But one ingredient, perhaps the most important of all, is planted in every life form---the factor of survival. And the desert is a good school in which to observe the cleverness and the infinite variety of techniques of survival under pitiless opposition."

"I've learned something on this trip," said Andy. "With all the magic and beauty of the desert that attracted me, now I also see the colorless wasteland. It's harsh in winter and summer alike. It confirms for me that I wouldn't want to live here, no matter how much the desert intrigues me."

A little tug, a slight twist on the trunk latch by the head mechanic and Little Red was as good as new. We watched. "Now I know how to fix it, and GM in Henderson charged us $40.00," said Andy, blandly. No anger. No remorse. A fact of life, like survival in the desert.

We stopped at Salt Creek Wetlands for a picture and found a trail through a desert marsh. Not even on the map, the pullout protected a disappearing oasis the Bureau of Land Management wanted to save for riparian and migrating marsh birds. "I need more life than creosote," said Andy, "maybe a tree or even the cactus of the Sonoran Desert, but more life than the Mohave shows." We climbed into Little Red and headed for Primm.

At Halloran Pass, above 4,000 feet, the Joshua trees appeared. "This road carries a lot of traffic between LA and Vegas, considering we're out in nowhere," said Andy.
We pulled off the highway to check the map. The garbage, a disgraceful mess, filled gullies and covered the clay and sand between creosote clumps--plastic, paper, glass, diapers, condoms, cardboard boxes. Disgusting.

Hotel Nipton in Nipton, California, claimed fame as a favorite stopping place of silent film star Claire Bow. The hotel, about six rooms, fronted a lovely cactus garden and preserved a snippet of history. It's mind boggling how some areas can be so filthy and abused while others, not even very far away, are protected and maintained. I guess it takes people who care.