As we cross the border from Arizona into California on Interstate 8 near Yuma, AZ, we can see a definitive line of dark clouds hanging over this usually sunny state.  Our aim is to see the Imperial Sand Dunes; yes, more sand dunes.  These are up to 300 feet high and are a recreational haven for riders of ATVs.  They are also on BLM land (remember, usually RVers can camp on BLM - Bureau of Land Management - land for free), but during "dune season" from October to May, RVers have to buy a permit to camp.  Unfortunately, the Ranger Station is closed and we can't find anywhere else that sells the permits - it is very frustrating and quite unfriendly.  Unlike every other state we have ever been to, there is also no State Welcome Center or Visitors Center when you enter on an Interstate.  We keep seeing commercials at home of Governor Arnold and other celebs telling us to come to California, but when we get here there's nothing and no one to help us figure out where to go or what to see!  So we keep driving.

California Day 2, still cloudy - we stop at a gas station in the tiny town of Niland and ask for directions to Slab City which lies on Niland's outskirts.  This is a hippy town that our new friends Janice and Jerry told us about.  It is named for the concrete slabs left behind from a remaining WWII army barracks.

First we come to "Leonard's Mountain", but more on that later.  Then there are the hippy trucks and buses decorated with old hubcaps and God knows what else.  We drive around sightseeing, but also find a place to park the trailer for the night.  There are also many big, expensive RVs and trailers here, so we feel secure that we'll be safe.  The rain starts shortly after we arrive, and it doesn't stop for almost 2 days.  Small clearings appear occasionally, attempting to lull us into thinking it will stop raining, but then they disappear and the black clouds roll in and the rain comes again.  The problem is that the surface we are on is a mixture of tiny stones and clay - very slippery when pulling 12,000 pounds.  So we decide to wait out the rain.

California Day 3, still raining - we stay put.

Leonard in the middle with other tourists - Salvation Mountain

California Day 4, the skies are clear blue and the sun is shining again - we pull out and head for L.A. to meet my uncle for Christmas Eve dinner.  We stop again at "Leonard's Mountain", and this time get out to have a closer look.  And surprise, we get a personal tour from Leonard, the mountain's creator.  What a character!  He is 80 years old this year and started building and painting this mountain to "spread the word of the love of God" 30 years ago.  It is a truly amazing structure, what Leonard has accomplished with adobe and paint, and his message is simple - "God loves us first, so keep it simple".  To him, his creation is called "Salvation Mountain".  Leonard is a delight to talk to.

Along the way north towards L.A., we stop at the Salton Sea, really an inland lake that is slightly more saline than the Pacific Ocean.  It was created in 1905 by the overflowing Colorado River.  It is slowly evaporating, and one day will be gone entirely, perhaps producing another Death Valley.  We also learn that some areas of the state received a couple of feet of rain over this past week, and fellow RVers whom we meet were stuck at their campsites for days waiting out the rain, so we are lucky we had only two days.  My uncle informs us that 20 homes in San Bernardino were lost to mud slides.  What a strange land of extremes this is.

Brad, Uncle Bill and Marilyn, Christmas Eve 2010

It is heartwarming to see my Uncle Bill again.  I haven't seen him for over 23 years - that was when my grandmother died and he came "home" for her funeral.  He left Canada in 1958 and has been here in California ever since.  He just can't stand the humidity of southern Ontario.  He lives in Claremont which, it turns out, is a beautiful little college town.  It reminds me of Niagara-on-the-Lake but with a big university at its heart.  There are quaint shops and restaurants in Clarement Village - and that's exactly what it's called.  There's a bakery where Uncle Bill buys his fresh bread - everything is within walking distance.  There are trees everywhere, and the college campus is huge.  Actually, it's five colleges all together.  Tuition, Uncle Bill says, is $40,000 per year!  The surrounding areas are residential, and nice residential, not slummy.  To the northwest is Mount Baldy, a huge mountain some 10,000 feet high.  It's only about 10 miles away and the peaks are snow covered.  I can see why he wants to live here.  It's beautiful!

Uncle Bill is the last of my father's siblings, four boys.  Bill was the "baby".  He and his brother Frank moved here to California; Frank passed away a few years ago.  My dad and his oldest brother Bob stayed in Hamilton.  Uncle Bill had a pacemaker installed last winter, so I'm glad to finally be able to see him.  I hope to be able to see him on subsequent trips.

Coronado and desert frustrations

We continue our journey west through Arizona, inching closer to California.  This morning the clouds threaten rain - the first of our journey in the south, and we can see that the road is wet as we near the Coronado National Memorial, but we witness not one drop of the wet stuff ourselves.  The park is named after Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, a Spanish explorer from the 1500s who was sent by the King of Spain to look for gold, which he never found (I think he was only looking on the ground, not IN it).  His route took him through the San Pedro River Valley near these majestic mountains.  We drop our trailer in a parking lot at the foot of the mountains, and drive a nail-biting, hair-pin turn filled, one-lane dirt road to Montezuma Pass at the top (elevation 6,575).  What spectacular views of the San Pedro River Valley to the east and the San Raphael Valley to the west.  Many other mountains are visible all around us, but also visible in the east valley below us is a solid, straight, black line which disappears into the mountains beyond.  We read the markers at the peak here and are informed that this is the U.S./Mexican border.  With our binoculars, we can see the American Border Patrol vehicles parked on a dirt road right beside the wall.  We skip over to the other side of the parking lot to peer through the binoculars at the view to the west.  Here, there is no solid black line, but with difficulty, we can spot a barbed wire fence.  The border has cut through the mountain we are standing on, but interestingly, it is more heavily guarded to the east than to the west.  Where we dropped our trailer, the Park Ranger had stopped and told us exactly where to park it; he was carrying some serious artillary - two visible hand guns and who knows what else.  We asked him about the border being so close since it was this morning that we realized we had camped in the RV Park only a few hundred yards away from Mexico.  Drug importation is the biggest threat here.  Inside the park, the Rangers do most of the surveillance and policing, but there are U.S. Border Patrol Officers and vehicles inside the park too.  Anyway, the views are heavenly, and we don't see any illegal immigrants.

Marilyn about to descend into the cave

Marilyn & Brad in the cave surrounded by flowstone

Also inside the park is a cave.  We are allowed to explore this cave on our own, unlike any commercialized cave.  It is a steep .75 mile climb up a rocky trail to get to it (so I'm figuring it had better be worth it!).  It doesn't have a lot of the beautiful mineral formations that many caves like Carlsbad has, but to be able to wander anywhere in the cave is fantastic.  We are not allowed to touch anything because it is still considered a living cave, meaning the formations (stalactites and stalagmites) are still forming, but we see a lot of evidence of vandalism, although it's hard to say when some of it happened.  For instance, all of the stalactites that are within reach of people have been broken off, but did that happen before the park became a park or after?  We suspect before, otherwise the government would likely have protected this cave better.  Also, people have scratched their initials into rocks that have fallen from the ceiling, but thankfully not the columns.  We find a small crawlspace, and Brad starts drooling.  He drops the backpack, grabs the flashlight, gives me the camera and says, "I'm goin' in!"  Great!  We have 2 flashlights and a Coleman lantern, but for me to be left by my lonesome while he scrapes through the hole on his belly into the unknown is still frightening, and damn!  I forgot to get the truck keys from him!  I cannot see his light or hear his voice for at least 5 minutes - an eternity when you are waiting for your spouse in near darkness, not knowing what has happened to them, but he does return, very dusty and dirty.  "I could have gone further," he says, "but it was getting really narrow, and I don't have a helmet or kneepads, and I thought you might be getting worried."  Thanks!  I was, because you have the truck keys!  The cave extends about 600 feet in length, with 20-foot high ceilings.  It is very dry with a mostly sand bottom.  It is a steep decline to get into initally, made all the more difficult because it's like looking into the abyss after hiking in the bright sunshine outside.  But it was a new and exciting experience to explore a cave unsupervised.

The next day, we head further northwest to Tucson and Saguaro (sa-war-ro) National Monument (the western part of the park, as there are two parts).  The road sign says that there is a 12,000 pound limit - yeah, the truck and trailer are pretty close, so we'll give it a go.  It's a steep climb at the beginning, but hopefully the Visitors Centre is nearby and we can find out about the hiking trails.  We come to a parking lot and actually manage to fit all 50 feet of us into it, and ask people if they know where the Visitors Centre is.  "Yeah, it's just up here somewhere."  Thanks for the explicit directions.  We debate whether to turn around and leave, or go on - we both have a bad feeling about this, but we go on.  The park also seems very busy; the traffic is unbelievably heavy, but it is Saturday.  Well, we find no Visitors Centre, just a sign about 3 minutes later saying "Leaving Saguaro National Monument".  Really?  I consult the map again.  Hmm.  Well, I see.  This road does go straight through the park for a short bit.  There was a dirt road that turned to the left, not a road I'd like to take our 31-foot trailer down, and no sign saying there was a Visitors Centre.  Unfortunately, we have no literature on this park, even after all the Visitors Centres in the various towns we've been in.  We decide to move on.  But the saguaro cacti are beautiful, and the concentration of them here is numerically challenging.

After that disappointment, we head for the Sonoran National Monument just west on I-8.  Now remember, national monuments are part of the national park system.  But again - no Visitors Center, no sign that we're even entering the Sonoran National Monument, nothing!  Jeepers!  Why bother naming these bits of desert and putting boundaries around them on a map?  We give up and stop for the night in Gila Bend.  California, here we come!

Funny Grady story.  Brad and I pop in a old Journey CD as we travel along the interstate - the great, old 1980s songs mostly.  It's amazing that after 30 years, we still remember all the words, and yet we have difficulty remembering the details of what we did a couple of days ago!  Ahh, well, back to Grady.  Brad and I are singing along at the top of our lungs, and the tunes are cranked pretty good.  Grady is in the back seat, meowing at the top of HIS lungs - perhaps singing along too, or maybe just trying to be heard.  Maybe he doesn't like Journey.  Randy Jackson, care to vote?  "The cat and the old guy are pitchy, but the pretty, young lady in the passenger seat is pretty good.  She's going straight to Hollywood, baby!"