Homeward Bound

The plan was to return to the Midwest via the scenic route, through Utah and Colorado, but due to the ominous weather forecast I opted for a more southerly path to take me home. When I left LA it was in the 70's with palm trees swaying in the light breeze. Well, you can kiss that goodbye, I thought. It was below zero in KC last night. Driving east to the edge of LA on the San Bernardino Freeway I then turned onto the I 15 headed north. With the increase in altitude came drastic changes in the vegetation. I was going to cross the Mojave Desert. It was mountainous, but everything was brown and it was sandy, not a trace of a living thing. It was one of the most desolate landscapes I had ever seen. And possibly the ugliest. Yet there are a few settlements here, places like Victorville and Hesperia. At the town of Barstow I turned east again and entered the desert. Barstow is a god-forsaken pit. Why anyone would want to live in such a place is beyond me. The desert proper turned out to be quite wonderful, in an austere kind of way. It must be brutal in the summer. I stopped for lunch in the town Ludlow, or better said, what remains of the town -- and it ain't much. It used to be a mining town. Now it consists of a service station (surprisingly ultra modern), a café and an assortment of abandoned buildings. The food and service were good in the café. It was like being in a time warp. I crossed into Arizona again, this time through the northern tier. Just before Flagstaff the road reached its highest point at 7,500 feet. This higher altitude is covered with thick forests. The Grand Canyon is just north of here. I had been there before and didn't wish to take the time now to see it again (maybe some other time...) The only stretch of my incoming route that I am re-tracing is that from Holbrook to Albuquerque. I don't mind driving this route again as it is really splendid scenery. The sun is shining and there is only light traffic, which means I can zip along at a steady 75 mph. Between Albuquerque and the Texas border the mountains gradually disappear. It's back in the High Plains again. I wanted to avoid Texas, but I find myself in Amarillo. On approaching the city limits there was a strong odor of cow dung, eau de merde de vache. The weather report for tomorrow is alarming as I will be driving into a snow storm. But the allure of sleeping in my own bed impels me ever forward.