Tag: Atlanta

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off too.” J.R.R.Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings.

It was 3:15 AM on March 16th and the Road was calling. I was wide awake staring at the ceiling. I had been trying to go back to sleep for the past 45 minutes and it just wasn’t going to happen. What I didn’t know was the strange last-day-in-California adventure that awaited me over the next 24 hours that would include casinos, a salt water lake, an apocalyptic ruin, an Alaskan in the middle of the desert, and a stripper/dance contest in Yuma, AZ. How did the Road sweep me away on this adventure?  Well, that’s where this story begins!

My house was empty! The place I had called home for 20 years was now completely empty.

Every stick of furniture, every piece of paper, every knickknack, tchotchkech, and geegaw that I had ever possessed was gone! Over the past week I had sponsored an estate sale and then a truck from a local charity had come by and picked up the last possessions that I had not wanted to keep. For weeks before that I had been packing and sorting and throwing out massive amounts of junk. Then out of a large 17 room house, I only had two small U-Haul pods of possessions left that I had personally loaded and sent on their way towards Atlanta. The only thing that was still left in the house was the long-time caretaker of the property that had allowed me to travel the world as much as I had and who also happened to be my roommate, Kirk. He would be staying in the house for about another month until it sold and then he would be off on his own new adventure. I had said goodbye to Kirk and then booked a room in a Koreatown hotel. After checking in, I had gotten a takeout pizza and two large cans of beer which I had in my hotel room while watching some terrible movie on TV. About 10:30 I realized that I was emotionally exhausted and just crashed only to find myself waking up at 2:30 AM. For the next 45 minutes as I struggled to go back to sleep, my mind kept going “It’s time to go. James, it’s time to go! The Road is calling! Let’s go!” 

So finally giving in, I got up, took a quick shower and got packed. I was checked out and had the car loaded by 3:45 AM. Before I left Los Angeles perhaps for the last time, I drove by my place one last time. My house, my home, my Hacienda that had been the center of my life for the last 20 years. As I sat in the car and looked at her there in the moonlight, I said one silent last goodbye. I was off on a new life adventure, and she was waiting for the next family that would call her home. I said a silent prayer for both of us, started the car and drove the two blocks to Interstate 10. I merged into the late-night traffic and headed east out of the City of Angels.

For days before leaving, I had tried to think of which highways I wanted to head East on. My sister had urged me to take my time driving across the country and see all the things that I wanted to see. Yet, I had made this trip four times in the last year and a half, and I had stopped every place that I had wanted to stop and had seen everything that I needed to see. So that morning as I drove out of LA, I had no clear plan as to where I was going to go or what my timeline getting to Atlanta was going to be. So I just decide on Palm Springs. I didn’t know if I was going stop in Palm Springs, chill out at Desert Hot Springs or just keep on moving, but Palm Springs was going to be my first stop.  Palm Springs is about 90 miles from Los Angeles and that 90 miles even on 8 lane freeways usually takes at least two and half hours because of the California traffic. Yet at four in the morning there is little to no traffic, so I pulled into the parking lot at the large Morongo Casino on the outskirts of Palm Springs about 5:30 AM.

Morongo Casino, Resort & Spa is an Native American gaming casino, of the Morongo Band of Cahuilla Mission Indians. The Morongo Casino was opened in 2004. It is open seven days a week, 24 hours a day. The hotel has 310 rooms, and several restaurants and bars are part of the complex. I was already vaccinated so I went inside to find breakfast. The 24-hour restaurant was closed because of Covid and reduced hours, so I got a muffin and coffee at the bakery. Then wandered around and played video poker with the help of a Bloody Mary until 7 AM when the Road called again urging me on.

It is at that moment that I decided to drive the 60 miles to the Salton Sea and check it out. I had lived in Southern California for almost 40 years and never even thought much about seeing it and it was now or never. I headed east on I-10 toward Indio and got off on California 86 South and drove pass Coachella, the home of the famous music festival, and continued on toward the Salton Sea. You reach a point where you can take either the eastern shore on Highway 111 or the western shore on Highway 86. I choose the eastern shore which would lead me toward an artist colony I had heard of called Bombay Beach.

The Salton Sea is a shallow, landlocked body of water that has a high concentration of salts. It was created by water runoff from the Colorado River in 1905 when an irrigation canal head gate was broken through by spring floods diverting a portion of the river flow into the Salton Basin for two years before repairs were completed. The water in the formerly dry lake bed created the modern lake that is about 15 by 35 miles. The lake would have dried up, but farmers used generous amounts of Colorado River water and let the excess flow into the lake. In the 1950s and into the ’60s, the area became a resort destination, and communities grew with hotels and vacation homes. However, by the 1970’s, the lake had begun to shrink and become more inhospitable to people and wildlife. In the 1980s, contamination from farm runoff promoted the outbreak and spread of diseases. Massive die-offs of the avian populations occurred, especially after the loss of several species of fish on which they depend. Salinity rose so high that large fish kills occurred, often blighting the beaches of the sea with their carcasses. Tourism was drastically reduced. During the 1990’s, the lake continued to shrink and the lake bed became exposed, the winds sent clouds of toxic dust into nearby communities making people sick and driving away what was left of the tourist communities. The Salton Sea has been called “the greatest environmental disaster in California”.

As I drove South on Hwy 111, I started to pass nurseries that grew palm trees but after a few miles even that sign of activity ended. You came into open arid desert with panoramic views of the lake on your right and nothing but endless desert on your left. I drove by what at one time had been communities, but now all the buildings were either boarded up or in disrepair. I drove by one community where people still lived, and I pulled off the highway to see what I could see. Most everybody in the community was older and at a local Community Center they were handing out food and supplies to the residents possibly because of COVID. What you soon began to understand is this is one of the last places that people with little or no resources can come to and stay in California. They could buy a cheap piece of property, or they might be able to find a room, small apartment or trailer for not much money, but there was just a sense of poverty and loneliness as I got back on Hwy 111.

The US Department of Interior has taken over much of the eastern shore of the lake and turned it into a preserve trying to maintain the wildlife and keep the lake from further eroding. There are many areas where the river has retreated so far from the lake that you can almost not see it from the highway, and these areas unless you have a pass or are willing to pay the daily entrance fee is the only way that you can get close to the lake. Finally I came to Bombay Beach which I had heard about on a television show which they had described as a colony of artists who were banding together on the edge of the Salton Sea. I turned off the highway into Bombay Beach and for the first few blocks as I headed towards the lake it seemed like it was doing well. There were a few art galleries, a restaurant, a couple of bars and a grocery store. Yet, as you drove the last few blocks toward the lake it suddenly became a cross between The Walking Dead and Mad Max. You had the feeling that you were in an apocalyptic ghost town and zombies were going to start walking down the road at any moment to eat you. For blocks, yard after yard of burned out houses and trailers were surrounded by junked furniture and trash. Every once in a while, you would see someone who had a small house or trailer who was trying to take care of their property but they were surrounded by chaos and garbage and ruin. It looked like a whole army of crystal meth heads had ransacked the town looking for anything that they could sell and moved on. The few people that I saw driving on the street or walking were all above 50 and they seemed old and beaten down. I drove out of Bombay Beach with a feeling of sadness at what looked like a desperate situation.

Continuing south on Hwy 111, it ultimately dumps out on Interstate 8 that runs between San Diego and Phoenix along the US southern border with Mexico. I turned left and headed east towards Yuma, AZ. A few years ago was the first time I’d ever gone to Yuma, and I have now been back five times. There’s something about this desert community and its colorful history mixed with it easy paced lifestyle that just appeals to me, although the extreme summer heat can makes it very inhospitable. As I drove east, I decide to stop one more time in Yuma before I headed towards Atlanta.

Yuma is located on the southwestern edge of the state of Arizona near the borders of California and Mexico. It is home to a number of snowbirds in the winter and other visitors are often enroute to Los Algodones, Mexico for cheap medical services or for the shopping. Yuma has been a stopping point for centuries. Before dams were constructed up and down the Colorado River, the river ran fast and deep and stretched wide in places, yet because of granite outcroppings the river was squeezed into a narrower channel and Yuma Crossing became known as the safest and easiest place to cross the river. The first Spanish conquistadors who helped settle Los Angeles and San Francisco did not sail up the California coast to settle those areas, they used Yuma Crossing on their way towards California.

I pulled into town and checked into one of several hotels located in Yuma. There are all levels of hotels here from cheap to very luxurious because of the flow of Americans who cross into Los Algodones for easy to obtain medical treatment and prescriptions. I choose one relatively near the historic downtown area of Yuma. It was about noon and the weather was in the mid-80s in March as I headed downtown to get something to eat. Arizona had fairly open Covid laws so as I walked around, I saw people wearing masks and some people not. After lunch, I walked around the historic downtown area and saw many of their restored historic buildings. Some dating from the late 1890s all the way up until the 1960s. Yuma is one of the wealthiest farming communities in the United States specializing in growing winter vegetables for the US market. The Gowan Company is a family-owned agricultural business that started in Yuma and grew into a global leader in seeds and agricultural solutions. They have bought up many of the historic buildings and preserved them using them for office and storage space including many mid-century architectural gems.

My odd schedule finally caught up with me and I went back to the hotel for a nap. Later, around 8 PM, I ventured out for dinner in the same downtown area. Afterward, I took another walk and ended up at the Red Bird Cage, one of the oldest saloons in Yuma, a real dive bar with friendly bartenders and a great juke box. It was a little close in there with a very casual mask and social distancing policy, but I managed to find a quiet corner of the bar to seat by myself.  As the bar began to fill up, a young couple sat down next to me, and we started talking. They were cousins and both really attractive people. Turns out he was an exotic dancer working in the Phoenix area mostly, and she (who I will call Ann) lived in Alaska working at the canneries up there about half the year. The other months, she returned home to Yuma to work in a family business, but she now really preferred Alaska. She told me that she almost did not return to Yuma this year because she just loved Alaska so much.

After talking for about an hour, some of their friends showed and things got a little rowdier. After a couple of rounds of drinks, they started talking about going to the strip club for the “dance off”. I asked what that was, and it turned out that there was some kind of dancing/stripping contest at the local club to see who had the best routine. Ann seemed to be in lust with one of the strippers and wanted to go support her. The whole gang got up to leave for the club, and Ann invited me along. With nothing better to do, I tagged along. Now going to a strip bar in the middle of pandemic is a very interesting undertaking with everyone wearing masks inside including the strippers as they walked around trying to get men to buy drinks. It was very strange to see a woman wearing almost nothing sit at a table chatting up a potential customer with a mask on. The image was just too weird for words.

The “dance off” began and Ann’s favorite came on second. Ann enthusiastically cheered her on while throwing dollar bills on the stage. By now it was about 1 AM and this time the Road was not calling, it was my Bed. So I said good night and drove back to the hotel. Yet as I got ready for bed, I reflected back on the past 24 hours and marveled at all the different things that happened. My leaving LA in the middle of the night, the casino, the desolation of Salton Sea and Bombay Beach, then driving to Yuma, meeting a woman in a desert bar who worked in Alaska and the strip/dance off contest. All in all, an extremely interesting way to leave California.  

*Special thanks to Wikipedia for historic information on Salton Sea, Morongo Tribe, and Yuma, AZ. All photos by James Carey except The Open Road @ Popular Science/popsci.com and Leaving LA @KCRW LA.

**Quote from The Fellowship of the Ring, JRR Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin, Inc., 1938.