Road Trip 2017 - Day 4

March 30

The route from St. George to California gets a little confusing. After the old northern and southern routes merge near Mesquite NV they are close together for a few miles when the Southern route again diverges to the south. A few miles later along the southern route, that trail splits again with one branch, called the Mojave Road, turns south toward Searchlight NV and the Armijo Route continues southwest to the town on the current map of Tecopah..  The Mohave Route turns due west just south of the present California-Nevada border and rejoins the Armijo Route south of Tecopah. At Tecopah North Branch of the Old Spanish Trail again joins with the Armijo Branch.  Here is where things  got confusing.

I had read somewhere - and I can't remember where - that in the little village of Blue Diamond in NV there was a museum, of sorts, devoted to  the Beale Wagon Rd. That was a 19th Century military wagon road that went due west along the general route of the later Southern Pacific railroad and the  IS40 highway routes.  I wanted to check that out.  Blue Diamond is a little village that is off AZ160 west of Las Vegas. That is the way to Tecopah as well. The Armijo Route on the Old Spanish Trail map that I have (A current government map on a nnumber of brochures) shows that after diverging from the Northern Route just west of Mesquite  Mesquite the Armijo Route heads south, turns southwest then, at the same latitude as Tecopah, turns west.  The Northern and Armijo Routes then merge again at Tecopah. So I thought that was a lucky coincidence to find another destination that I did not know about until I started the trip.
 
I stopped at Blue Diamond and asked around for the Beale Museum and no one had heard of it. And now I cannot find again the reference that I had originally seen. So, frustrated, I continued on to Tecopah.

As I left Blue Diamond I continued along NV160 until I saw the Tecopah Rd. sign. I didn't notice the road that comes in from the east (see map) but just turned and continued on the same road as I crossed into California  without realizing it was also called the the Old Spanish Trail Highway.  As I drove along the wind was getting stronger and stronger.  When I reach Tecopah it must have been blowing 50 miles an hour.  I was a bit confused as to which way to turn at that point so I stopped at the "resort" area where there were a couple of cars.  I saw a sign on what appearance to be a reception area for visitors, so I got out of my car and was immediately stung by the blowing sand.  I staggered  to the door and knocked.  A woman answered, pushed open the door and screen door and told me, "hurry up - get in here." And closed the door behind me.

It was obviously in a small store - there were various items traveler's or visitors to the nearby Hot Springs might need, but she was doing no business today. I asked her which way to go and she said it did not make any difference because both roads led  to CA 127, and that I should turn left to go to Baker where I was headed.
 
When I reached CA127 I tried to open the car door, but the wind was blowing from left to right and I could not get the door open. So, cleverly, I turned the car around, then easily opened the door, got out and took a picture:

 

At this point both the trail and I headed south along CA127 on the way, ultimately, to Barstow, by way of Baker.

  The wind was blowing furiously. At one point where  the conditions were not quite so blinding I looked to my right and saw this dark, ominous, snake-like cloud of dust slithering across the desert floor toward the road.  I don't know whether to stop, slow down, speed up, turn around, or pray. I just slowed down and as the cloud enveloped may car I could not see past the front end of my car. I wasn't even sure I was still on the road.  I recalled the semi-truck that had appeared in my rear view mirror a few moments earlier - two big headlights and a grill were all I could  see.  I had slowed, he pulled out and  passed me a a pretty good clip while blasting with his air horn. I don't know if he was thanking me, mad at me for going slowly, warning me that he was passing, or warning oncoming cars that he was bigger than them. He just then disappeared in the  blowing  sand.  Was there another truck ready to just roll over me? Was the truck that just passed going to regain his senses and just stop so I could plow into him?

The road itself was barely two lanes wide, with no shoulder except sand. I didn't want to pull over for fear I would never get out.  It is possible that drivers of big rigs could see over the top and spot me, I thought, so I hoped that was right and I would not become a new speed bump in the desert.

It was 40 or so miles of the wind and sand until I finally reached Baker.  AS I drove into town the road was blocked by fire engines and police cars.  There apparently had been a fire in the mobile home park.  I maneuvered around that and finally pulled into a gas station to use the rest room and calm my nerves.   As I opened the car door I was surprised that the wind caught it, ripper it from my grip,. The door slammed in tot he side of a very nice, customized Chevy. Shiny black, slightly lowered, and obviously someones pride and joy. The blaring alarm brought the someone from the convenience store at the glass station. A young man who turned out to be very polite and seemingly not too upset.  We exchanged credentials. I ultimately continued on my way and saw a long, long line of cars going east on the Interstate15 due to a trailer overturned ion to the shoulder of the road. People headed to Las Vegas for the Cesar Chavez  holiday, I guess,

We ultimately all ended in Barstow - me, the Northern Route, Northern Branch, Armijo Route, Mohave Route, Interstate 15, Interstate 40, US Highway Route 66, Southern Pacific Railroads to name a few.,