modified 7.23.07
From SF to VA via Route 66
California Los Angeles The Sierra Madre Arizona New Mexico Oklahoma Texas Louisiana Mississippi Mobile, Alabama Tennessee Kentucky West Virginia Virginia California: Determined to finally hit the road and thwart our own procrastination, we spent an entire day loading up the jeep and trying to bring equipment we might need for contingency plans. We saddled up before the morning rush hour and wound our way out of tidy San Franciscan suburbs to Route 101 and points south where we planned on meeting up with Route 66. We'd tried to plan ahead as much as possible, as we'd be living from the Jeep for as long as it took us to find our way East. We'd taken the backseat out altogether and strapped it on top of the Cherokee so we could stuff a futon mattress in the trunk with room enough for our heads. The roof was covered with the Jeep backpack and completely full of everything we would need to survive if camping for an undetermined amount of time. We'd bought only a few things in preparation for this trip, including a compact sturdy camp stove, dry firewood, and enough food to start us off. When we had San Jose and the rest of the hard-working sprawl of the Silicon Valley at our backs, the landscape began to change from the tree-covered undulations of the Santa Cruz mountains to sparser vegetation and sweeping fertile grasslands, and then finally to the vast rich farmlands and crops of the Californian Central Valley. The many-laned highway led nearly straight into the horizon, dark dots on the highway in the distance slowing growing into the familiar caterpillar-shape of semi trucks, trodding along on their minute scale in this wide display of land around us. Their neverending trail dutifully crawled off on its predestined path, and we found ourselves easily besting the laden on the windswept heights of the upper plains. After a few hours of driving, we opted for an afternoon nap on a dusty country sideroad, to recharge our weary minds and bodies, and to avoid the rush hour in Los Angeles. The area mostly consisted of small livestock farms and the beginnings of lush groves, where less than a mile from the main road was still quiet enough to rest peacefully. We dragged some of the gear from the bedding area of the Jeep, and leaving truck door open, we laid in the shade and enjoyed the green scent of growth in the breeze. Los Angeles: We opted to avoid the complexity and inherent confusion taking a tour of Los Angeles would create, and stayed on the highways until we got well to the east of L.A. The sun was just setting as we hit the edge of the city proper, having passed over the suburbs on elevated highways for miles. Tall palm trees carved dark silouhettes against a peach-melon sky, and we drove wide-eyed through the lights of a long strip of grande hotels and streetlights. Sierra Madres: We made the crossing over the mountains between California and Arizona in electrifying darkness. the insane asylum and the entire town built on the side of a mountain Arizona: 29 Palms the pile of red dirt the RV nomads with hash Flagstaff The Small Canyon with American Indian Crafts Market The Grand Canyon camping in the National Forest New Mexico: we made las cruces around sundown, driving almost due south toward the mexican border as the sky melted into a flawless coral gradient, slowly and imperceptably darkening as night fell. i pulled off the highway into a small border town, as it was the closest point to mexico on our journey. i thought maybe we could get something to eat here, and i thought i'd seen some indication of mcdonalds. Truth and Consequences Oklahoma: the truckstop in OK? with the walking palm the petrified forest at night Texas: Austin, Houston the haze over the interstate (nts: look # up later) was fog intermingled with the pollution of the many oil refineries in the area. the smell coming in my minimally open window was that of wetland corn-scented humidity, tainted with the odor of something nasty being burnt, and the low-hanging mist had the distinct bluish tinge of oil slicks in convenience store parking lots in the rain. we were trying to pick up a good signal from the hundreds of truckers on the lanes around us as they bulleted their way to of from the gulf coast. mostly loud high-pitched static and the unintelligible crazed rantings of drivers gone mad in the solitude, we gave up shortly after hitting the road. the consistency of the interstate asphalt stayed smooth until we reached the louisiana state line, whereupon it became rough and unyielding, giving the sensation of driving over a very long cheese grater at speed. (nts: not sure if this is true or it was alabama that sucked). Louisiana: New Orleans Alabama: Mobile: Mississippi: We breezed through much of Mississippi that night as well, finally coming to rest a few hours before dawn in the parking lot of a rustic cabin-like hotel that undoubtedly catered to hunters. The fog-filtered white light roused me, and the sounds of winter birds calling from their chilled nests. I pulled myself onto my elbows and sleepily looked out the window to see a number of brown shapes that moved. I put on my glasses and the herd of mature female deer came into focus, feeding amongst the small fruit trees on the grasses that continued to grow richly even in winter. The grass was greener than I'd expected, having lived in the Northeast most of my life. The whole world turns brown and then negates itself to white in New England. The grass may have been lush, but the trees of northern Mississippi in late November were seasonally-neutral as expected. The nut trees had borne and dropped their fruit and thick oily leaves, and it was obvious the animals came in droves for the sweetness and early-morning peace of this glade. I poked at Morgan and whispered that he had to wake up, and we huddled in the back of the Jeep with the window rolled down, watching the deer nuzzle the dew from the deep grass. Tennessee: Kentucky: West Virginia: Virginia: