Across The Desert

Only three weeks late but it's been requested by lovely Jo so I think it's about time I finished my journey.

When I left you I was in LA about to head East to Las Vegas on that legend of American roadtripping: Route 66.
We came across it by accident in the end. We had stopped for a sandwich (thank you for the sandwiches Vons, you've taught us so much!) and suddenly there it was. A boring bit of road lined by shops and petrol stations and traffic lights. It did take us almost immediately to a Walmart though so we got to check that one off the list.
Eventually we got out of the city and I found myself driving along this:

Spectacular! 

It led us to our motel in Barstow. I can't say I recommend it. The motel was pretty shabby and the town was fairly disappointing but it did have some great things to see nearby. Our first stop was Peggy Sue's 50's Diner and Diner-saur park. 

There were dinosaurs...need I say more? We had milkshakes in the warm evening air, dinner to the dulcet tones of Elvis, and browsed a shop full of kitch. 

The next morning took us to a magical place. Anyone travelling in the area MUST go to Elmer's BottleTree Ranch. A local artist has created a forest of ...things. The stuff we throw out, broken, old, delapidated, transformed into treasure. Everywhere we looked there was something we missed before. A typewriter, a cowboy, an old phone, till, motorbike...And all around hummingbirds fluttered past our heads, sipping from the feeders strung up amongst it all. 

 

After some moments dancing amongst it all we moved on to Calico Ghost Town. A bit of a tourist trap really. It would've been much more interesting left abandoned and spooky but every old building was selling a different variety of souvenir. It does seem incredible that people lived there once at the heart of the wild west gold rush. It seems both an incredibly exciting time and a horribly difficult one. The lack of water there is terrifying. I was thirsty just thinking about it...but then, we are delicate British flowers, not made for the desert.

Tired by the heat and the American dream we drove south to our next home in Joshua Tree National Park. We arrived in the evening so it was cool enough for a little walk (praying we didn't meet a tarantula) before firing up the trusty Jet Boil for stew and a splash of whiskey to wash it down. 

We had some interesting neighbours for dinnertime. The scouts we having some kind of family evening so we were treated to some rather questionable speeches by the significant presence of their leader. Our favourite was him reading out a list of why girls are better than boys (by some women). 

"Girls smell better. Girls are polite. Girls make an effort with their hair." And other similar gems. All bad enough. I mean, I know some very nice smelling men, and Kirsty and I weren't exactly the most glamorous of creatures at this stage. He then went on to counter all these arguments with equally sexist drivel. Boys are better than girls because "Boys don't waste time at the mall. God made Adam first. Boys aren't afraid of adventures."

I hope the mothers who were there set the record straight once they'd gone home. I'm not entirely sure teachers should influence their charges with such rubbish. I was quite angry. 

But then they left and the milky way made its now familiar presence known. 

In the early morning we went for a very short hike in the desert. First of all, it is incredibly beautiful. There is such a variety of strange cacti filling the arid earth. Life is really very tenacious. We are not. We were back at camp by ten and felt quite weak. We had had to stop every few minutes to drink and rest. We had planned to spend the day there and camp another night but we couldn't bear it! So we did the only sensible thing and got into the car to bask in the cooling influence of the air conditioning. We would drive to Amboy, a town we picked out on the map (we rejected Palm Springs as it was in the wrong direction. Silly decision!) mainly based on the fact there was a crater nearby. 

Amboy has a motel and diner (without a kitchen) and nothing else. It's famous for it's signpost. 

We also saw the crater surrounded by lava fields from when it was an active volcano. You can walk up to the rim but the heat was like a hammer. As soon as we left the car I didn't know what to do with myself exactly. There is hot and then there is the desert. I've never felt physically sick from the weather before and it is not pleasant. Who'd've thought that I wasn't perfectly adapted to such an environment? I'm as shocked as you are. 

We had toyed with the idea of camping in Mojave Desert but a flood (what?!) had closed the road so instead we went to a town called Baker (how appropriate), home of one motel and the world's largest thermometer which read 109F (about 42C in real money). It was evening. We took a room and hid for the rest of the day and most of the morning before driving the last stretch to Las Vegas. It was 46C. Did I mention it was very very very hot?

Don't get me wrong, I had a great time there but I'm not sure Vegas is for me. An evening of people watching, gawping at The Strip, the water show, and exploring the hotels was really enough. Especially as we were all zen from weeks surrounded by the glories of nature, suddenly everything was gaudy and vulgar and greedy. It glittered and was fascinating but dirty in a way that I had not felt even after 5 days without a shower in the wild.

 

The casinos were intimidating. Money was everywhere. The air smelled like stale cigarettes covered by furniture polish. I'm not sure I'll go back in a hurry. One day we tried to find a pool to relax beside and the only ones we were allowed in had been turned into pool parties. We went to the car wash instead which was great. Not kidding. I love a car wash.

Our last day we went to see the Hoover Dam which was an amazing piece of engineering. How do people go about building this stuff. It's enormous. In the evening we dressed up, had some drinks and watched a Cirque du Soleil. Not used to drinking we were both much happier about Vegas :) especially when we popped into a New York, New York burger place on the way home. We finished the trip as we started it. 

I missed the penultimate day on purpose to end on the highest note. The Grand Canyon. What an utterly extraordinary place. It was a 5 hour drive so we set off just after 4am and arrived to a balmy, green and very pretty national park late morning. We'd watched the sunrise as we drove in Arizona. 

Yes, it's very touristy but the further you walk from the Visitor Centre the more you have the place to yourself to drink in how huge it is in peace/ take some jumping shots. 

It really is a beautiful place. You just don't get bored of it no matter how much you look. It's not just the vast crater, or the bright bands of rock. It's the hawks cycling lazily below you! It's the flower speckled edges softening the exposed rock. It's the wonder that that tiny far away river made this, and it's still going. 

We stayed to watch the beautiful sunset, filling the canyon with shadows and melting over the horizon before turning and seeing the moon had risen behind us, full and fat and glowing. It was Supermoon evening. A pretty special day all round.

We drove home through the night, arriving exhausted but still full of the magic of the day. 

And less than two days later we were saying goodbye to USA. A final meal at John Mull's Meats (go there if you get the chance. It's the most glorious brisket in the world. Fact.) and we were at the airport saying goodbye to Greta, our trusty steed, and preparing for Pitch Perfect 2: film choice number 1. 

And now here I am, nearly a month later and it's all a distant memory. Better start planning the next holiday then. This one will take some topping. 

To the sun!

Today, like the glamorous being I am, I'm writing to you from one of the beaches at Malibu. Kirsty is working on her tan and I am under a stripy umbrella, trying to find things to do to occupy myself. Luckily I was well prepared with things to write, a book and I braved the burny sun to swim in the warm ocean after we spotted dolphins swimming very close to shore. Incredible. They didn't come back to swim with us unfortunately. Alas! 
All in all it's been a very successful beach trip for someone who doesn't do well on the beach. Hurrah! :) not least because it is much cooler today than yesterday. Only a chilly 30•C  instead of nearly 10• hotter. Phew!
This is a huge change from where I last left you. The last spot on our trekking route was a place called Florence Lake. First of all is was quite tricky to get to. The last road up to the lake was single track but two way traffic (although very little of it thank god!), blind bends, vertical drops and random jagged rocks from nowhere. And all in the dark. It took us over an hour to go less than 20 miles. It was quite terrifying. 

In the morning it was raining. Not only was it raining but there was a forest fire nearby so the air was black with smoke as well. We braved a hike though, following the lake through the John Muir Wilderness: The man who inspired our trip.
Unfortunately the fairies must've been out that day because after we stopped for lunch the paths disappeared. Truly. We went straight on and it petered out to nothing. We went back where we thought we'd come from and hit an uncross able creek in our way. The path we'd arrived in was just not there anymore and the others came to abrupt ends. It turned out we were lost with only a couple if cheese strings for sustenance. 
But fear not reader! We are nothing if not made for survival in such extreme circumstances. Using a map and compass (check us out!) we worked out where we were, found high ground then followed the creek back up to Florence Lake until we found the path again. 
It was a bit creepy though. We came across a place where we suspect hunters prepare their catches. It wasn't the happiest place. 

Frustrated with the bad weather (we came to California in the middle of a four year draught and got rained on. Typical!) and the badly maintained routes/tricksy fairies, we left the next day for Big Sur and Monterey Bay on the Pacific Coast Highway. It was completely the right decision because we rejoined the sun and had a beautiful few days in a stunning bit of the world. 

We were driving on the best road...all zigzags and breathtaking views, there were huge birds, deer, redwoods and showers at our campground. The last is probably the most exciting. We had an afternoon on a beach, dinner in a diner from 'Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,' and did some shopping. We went to the world famous Monterey Bay Aquarium and saw into the beautiful alien world of under the sea. And there were sea otters. They are soooooooo cute! And did you know there is such a job as a penguinologist? Why am I not one of them? Then I could live in Monterey. Highlight! 

There was one scary moment when I was driving back to camp in the dark. My first driving at night experience and I did not like it at all. I especially didn't like it when a deer stepped out in front of me and I nearly hit it. And then 10 minutes later another one did the same. Both Kirsty and I were nervous wrecks by the time we got home. 
But moving on, we soon found ourselves on the way to LA and a wonderful friend, Monique, who we are staying with. She's the nicest and an excellent tour guide so we've had an awesome time. LA is so big, and with such different parts. You only have to walk from shiny Santa Monica where people are working out on Muscle Beach and walking tiny dogs, towards the shabbier Venice Beach where homeless men play the piano and men try to sell you incense as you pass them to see it. And then there's the big fancy houses near the hills, Rodeo Drive and Beverley Hills to show you another side again. 

Yesterday was my birthday and this really wasn't a bad way to spend it. We saw the famous sign and the sprawling city from Griffith observatory, ate tacos for breakfast and ice cream for lunch, went to an Emmys party where we drank margaritas and played ping-pong and then went to....wait for it...the cupcake ATM. Yes, you hear me correctly. It is a thing. A beautiful and delicious thing. We need one of those in London. 

What better way to celebrate arriving in one's late twenties? 
We have just a week left and tomorrow we depart for the last leg. But don't think about the end...I'm going for lunch. We have another blog left so until then...

New York to San Francisco

I am writing to you all from the birthplace of West Coast coffee culture, Caffe Trieste, on a sunny morning in San Francisco. I have no flowers in my hair but I am a little but in love. It's just so pretty! There are long wooden piers with people fishing at the end, Sea Lions, huge butterflies fluttering over flower-laden stairways. 

We arrived here yesterday from New York so apart from a wonderful first impression, I can't tell you much about this city yet (although to give you a bit of atmosphere an old drunk Irishman just walked past saying "argh! Get outta me face, you're an asshole!" to everyone he passed) except that as we passed the yoga room at the airport we crossed paths with a policeman on a bike followed shortly by another on a Segway. 

I can also tell you that we have hired a car (we named her Greta), and drove a hard bargain to get her. We weren't good at haggling in India, but it turns out that being relatively poor is a huge asset in these negotiations. Woohoo! 

This is not to say that we didn't also have a wonderful time in New York. It is a stunning city. The first day we walked into Manhattan over Brooklyn Bridge and it is just astonishing to see those skyscrapers appear. We also took the Staten Island ferry that evening (and it's free- Hello!). The sun was setting over the Statue of Liberty as we crossed the bay and it's was just beautiful. 

However, as great as it is, New York also has it's downside: The Subway. London gains serious points here because it has MAPS and SIGNS! Are you listening New York? And there are several lines in the same colour with a seemingly random letters/numbers system. Too confusing! It is important to always ask if this is the right train because it's very hard to tell once you're on board and going in the wrong direction. 

And that image you have of helpful America. Sometimes not true. From the airport our human interaction is as follows: Subway employee tuts "stupid!" at Kirsty as she hesitated at the turnstyle; I ask lady if she can tell us what road we were on and she looked angry and told me to go away. 

Animal interaction was confined to a MASSIVE cockroach waking us up one morning as it ran across our bed. Shudder. 

On the other hand out Airbnb hostess, Joan, was super lovely and greeted us with champagne; and we met a nice man called Bruce at a bar and he showed us lots of photos of his children doing New York things. 

After meeting Bruce we went to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Go see it. It's very cool :) 

Other recommendations I have for you? Walking the Highline, boating in Central Park, the Museum of Natural History, and a great sandwich shop at the south side of the park. Mmm...sandwiches! 

That's all. We've got to go climb some really steep hills now. More soon. 

Driving lessons

Oh dear, it has been a while hasn't it? Two months into the year and only one blog. Terrible.
However, I am sticking with the theme of transportation and moving from bikes to cars. That's right, I'm learning to drive.
The aim is to be roadworthy by the end of the year (preferably September), and that seems like a long time and a small fortune on driving lessons. However I think, considering it's me and I'm hardly the most confident road user, too many lessons are better than not quite enough. My main problems seem to be realising how wide the car and the road are. I'm so used to only navigating my midget frame through the world that I don't trust at all that a car will fit through any gap narrower than the full road. Oncoming buses are not good for my nerves.
Neither are the pedestrians. Especially pram pushing pedestrians who walk out into the road without looking. It's like they have a death wish for their babies.
On the bright side, once I've mastered the art of the near miss, I'll be so London savvy I will be able to drive anywhere.
You'll be pleased to know that it's all going well. Yesterday I zoomed along at a healthy national speed limit pace, I skirted the M25, I took on several roundabouts, including the one that I once navigated my mum around the wrong way (wrong lane not anticlockwise- I'm not that stupid).  I told her to follow a brown car that didn't exist and gave entirely useless information like "that way!"
Maybe I did freak out on one roundabout. It was all wrong. I tried to start in forth gear, forgot how to steer and lost the clutch in one fell swoop. Kevin, my instructor (highly recommended) pretty much had to drive me out of it from the passenger seat.
I don't know what came over me, except that it sounded like a feeble whimper. I can only assume I was briefly possessed.
My driving career did not start in a very promising manner. I had a couple of lessons when I was 17 but all I remember about them was putting the visor down with both hands as I approached a roundabout. That instructor quit soon after, oddly, although I'm sure I wasn't the real cause.
And then there is the volvo-gate for which I would like to issue a public apology. It was during a road trip to Scotland that my friend offered me a tiny driving lesson. Her parents' car, which we had borrowed was automatic so it was a go/stop kind of affair. Being the cautious person I am, I initially refused the lap of the car park, but my excitement won out and five minutes later I had successfully driven in a circle and arrived back in the parking space. Hurrah!
Then I had a second go. And for some reason, as I was pulling into the space a second time, my friend obviously thought I wasn't stopping quickly enough. Probably she was right but I was basically just rolling into the spot. So when she said "and stop...Stop!" I panicked and put my foot on the brake.
Except that it wasn't the brake.
Duel control would have been very useful in this situation, however the car did bump into the wall and the number plate came off. I'm assured this was pretty much the extent of the damage but at the time I was convinced it was awful and I was going to have to buy a new car.
To add insult to injury, the other friend on the road trip was filming the whole thing: Jess's first driving lesson. So somewhere, hopefully never to be seen, is footage of the whole sorry fiasco.
Friend's lovely parents only recently found out what really happened. Friend told them she had done it when a lonely sheep had wandered out into the road. Naturally.
So I'm very sorry about that and I dedicate this blog to you both. I promise next time I crash a car it will not be yours, and I will be fully licensed and insured. I love you. (Too far?)
But now it's going well. Kevin actually says I'm above average, which I suspect may be to bolster my confidence, but I choose to believe him. It certainly helps that I now know which pedal is stop and which is go.