The First Part: Mojave, Moab, Rocky Mountain High

The first day started out with goodbyes. We were departing from Miriam's parent's house (in Clairemont), where we had been living since the moving company took our stuff on June 7. My mother came down from Santa Clarita to see us off, accompanied by my brother (who had just moved back to San Diego). Ellen (Miriam's mother) got us pancakes and bacon from Original Pancake House as our farewell breakfast. We said goodbye to cats first, as they were lounging upstairs, and it was probably best to just let them stay up there and not get all excited about all the goings-on downstairs.

We said our farewells, and not as many tissues were needed as I had thought. Miriam and Bobby started in her Vue, and I went it alone in my Civic. They got a bit of a jump on me when we started out, making a U-turn while I went around the cul-de-sac. The first leg of the trip was nothing new: the I-15 up through North County and down into the Temecula Valley. I decided to take the I-215, since I'd only ever done that once before, and that was during the night. It was no big deal, really. But it did give me the lead over Miriam and Bobby.

For a little while, at least.

Then came Cajon Pass.

My car...not so good with mountains (and this was nothing compared with what was to come). I think my average up the pass was 55 mph -- not too bad. But other people were flying by, and I had to find a place between the fliers and the just slighty slower-than-I semis. As I crested the summit, my car shuttered in joy, and reved it was up to 80. No sooner than that, however, than did a CHP enter the freeway, and it was a foot on the brake and down to the speed limit (70 mph). I think he saw that I had been going fast as he was getting on, though, and he tailed me for a while, but then decided he'd given me enough of a scare and passed me by. As the CHP car moved from my rear view, it revealed Miriam's metallic orange Vue behind me. My slowdown up the pass had allowed them to catch up. They later teased me about the CHP, as they had been watching the whole time.

We were now in the high desert area, the Mojave. We passed Victorville, Barstow, and the factory outlets and desolation in between. At the I-15/I-40 split, another CHP was waiting to catch speeders, and I'm really not sure how fast I was going at that point...but I got away again.

We communicated via cell phones, and decided to stop in Baker for gas and food and...waste extraction. That would be our most expensive gas: $4.56. Plus $0.35 to use our debit card, as it was an Arco. It was still $0.30 cheaper than the other gas stations.

In the same cars we had started out in, back on the road, the Vue was able to pull far ahead of me, due to a series of desert mountain summits. But Las Vegas traffic proved to be the great equalizer, and we met again in gridlock, as the mega-casinos of the Strip loomed to the east. There didn't seem to be any good reason for the traffic (how L.A.-esque), and it was well before I would think should be "rush hour." But we fought our way beyond the glitz and car exhaust and stayed pretty much within each other's view after that point. Nevada took more time than I expected to pass, then came a sliver of Arizona, which included the amazing Virgin River Gorge, the Virgin River and the I-15 winding around each other, overshadowed by giant cliffs. (They actually numbered how many times the river pased below the freeway.)

As quick as it had come, Arizona fell behind, and Utah opened up with its clay-red ridges. And then the desert gave way to sparse forest, and we pulled over again for gas.

Within the Texaco mini-mart, as I was waiting for the restroom, this guy come up, an older man, and asked if I was waiting for the restroom. I said, "Yeah," but then looked down, as he was holding one had with the other, and the held hand was full of blood. The women's room (which was probably exactly the same as the men's) was open, so I said, "Oh my gosh--" (I try to clean up my language around non-city folk) "--I think no one would have a problem with you using the women's room." So he went in and washed up. He came out with a couple paper towels, the wipe up where he had dripped blood on the floor, but only really managed to smear it around, around which time he said, "Don't know how I managed to do this to myself."

It sure was strange, but he seemed the kind of guy that probably did working on his car or RV, so I wasn't totally freaked out...and I don't think I even mentioned it to Miriam and Bobby.

It was only about forty-five minutes more until the town of Beaver. We stayed at a Best Western just off the freeway. It was all that bad. We hemed and hawed about where to go for dinner. Bobby was talking up a "cafe" down the road. The place had two reviews on TripAdvisor: one was favorable, but the other was: "Menu just variations of chicken tenders." We finally decided to go a place which ended up not existing, either anymore or where Google maps said it should be, so we ended up at a local eatery a la Coco's. It wasn't half-bad. The prices were a bit too just-off-the-freeway," but the portions were huge. Of course, we didn't have a place to keep or re-heat leftovers, of we ended up leaving quite a lot on our plates.

The morning of the second day we made breakfast out of some fruit we had bought at Trader Joe's the day before our departure. Back on the road, Bobby helmed the Vue, and Miriam piloted my car, with me as naviagtor. Shortly after leaving Beaver, we bade the I-15 goodbye, and merged onto the I-70, trading north for east and started our great ascent to the Mile High City. We stopped along the way to take pictures at one of those scenic view points, and then another stop at Green River for some $5 footlongs.

As we crossed into Colorado, the Utah desert faded away and the Colorado river wound its way to the south of the freeway. With greenery now replacing the orange and brown of the desert, we made our approach into Grand Junction. Bobby had been cajoled by his co-workers at NBC to visit a former co-worker who was now working at the Grand Jct. affiliate.

Our first stop as a Walmart supercenter, where Bobby needed to pick up a picture uploaded over the Internet to be developed (for the NBC woman). Finding the Walmart was easy enough (though it did take an inordiante amount of left turns. Finding the NBC station was another thing. Miriam and I never actually made it there. Instead, we ended up taking the nickle tour of downtown Grand Jct., and waited out Bobby's visit in a Dairy Queen parking lot.

Once Bobby rejoined us, Miriam went into her car, and Bobby sat shotgun in mine. We left the DQ without any Blizzards. I ended up reading a sign wrong and had to do some turning around before we got back onto the I-70. This was the most scenic part of the trip, I think. We followed the Colorado River through gorges and valleys, my favorite being the gorge after Glenwood Springs, where the freeway splits, the westbound lanes up high, and the eastbound lanes down along the river. Plus: tunnels!

The Colorado River forks north after that, around Dotsero, and the Eagle River takes over as the highway companion. We stopped in Edwards, which is just west of Vail, and for a moment I felt like I was home again: the gas was the most expensive it'd been since Baker, there were huge houses atop the hills, and the Wendy's was completely staffed by Hispanics. The only difference was that the yuppies sipped their espressos within ski chalets instead of country clubs. Oh, and there was an awesome river that had rapids! Sweet!

Once gassed and food-ed, it was back on road. Unfortunately, this was not my car's favorite part of the trip. Cajon Pass (back in San Bernardino) is 4,190 ft. high. Vail Pass is well over 10,000 ft., and the Eisenhower/Johnson Tunnel is 11,158 ft. above sea level, making it the highest vehicular tunnel in the world. My car was not so impressed. Or, then again, maybe it was. Why else would it going 35 mph up the mountain if not to simply take in those beautiful Rocky Mountain views?
After the tunnel, it is pretty much all downhill from there. In a good way. And in an even better way, as daylight was dwindling, and we approached the Denver metro area, a huge thundercloud presented itself, and gave us a fantastic show (but I was paying attention to the road, of course).

We got into Denver pretty late, due the Grand Junction kerfuffle. The storm hadn't been as welcome a sight to some air travelers, you ended up flooding our hotel as their flights were delayed. They also ended up taking all the good food from the restaurant, so that there were no starches (potatoes, rice) left. No artichoke dip, either. Plus, the hotel was under renovation, so the bar had only the basics (read: Budweiser and vodka). But, there was A/C and TV, so it's not like it was all that bad.

Next post: Oh, Ma...Ha!

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