Day 10: Travel Day
Welcome
Yesterday we drove from Santa Cruz to Palm Springs.
It was a long day of driving yesterday and Paul spent most of the time behind the wheel. Gabe was riding up front as co-driver and subbed in for a few hours when Paul needed a break. It was an impressive display of endurance from those two and we did our best to support them from the rear rows of seats.
It was a good thing the air conditioning on the Sprinter was working because the day was already well warmed up when we left the hotel at 8am. Somehow we were still in almond country and blasting through endless orchards, some with lush green leafy trees and some with stark twisted branches that would have looked fearsome after sunset. We were on Route 101 heading south down the Salinas Valley, the Santa Lucia Mountains hazy in the distance out to the west and the Diablos looming out to the east.
There were two major vehicle fires we passed yesterday. The first was while we were still on the 101 and it was an engine bay fire in a mid-sized sedan. The Santa Clara County fire department were too late to save this vehicle, perhaps it was a Hyundai Sonata or an Buick Verano, but the fire was extinguished and the passengers were safe.
We made it to I-5 and the San Joaquim Valley and continued south, stopping for breakfast at a gas station that was precisely in middle nowhere. The least worst option was a spot adjoining the gas station, an outlet of the Mexican fast food chain Baja Fresh where I ordered a two taco meal - two veggie tacos with beans and rice.
The second major vehicle fire was past Bakersfield, right before the ascent into the San Emigdio Mountains that marks the end of the San Joaquim Valley. Kern County Fire Department was already there in force, handsome white engines surrounding but safely back from a parked semi, its trailer spewing flames and a toxic looking black smoke. There was no attempt to extinguish this blaze; it must have been a hazardous material for the firefighters stood their ground and let it burn off. We were thankful to be driving in the opposite direction as we drove past this wreck, passing the miles upon miles of unmoving traffic backed right up into the hills.
We made a stop in Los Angeles, not because we wanted to, but because we needed to visit the storage unit. There were things to drop off and things to pick up and we spent a good half hour getting the trailer repacked before we could continue. From then on, the drive was less scenic. We took I-210 for a couple of hours, crawling east in a dead straight line above Los Angeles in the shade of the San Gabriel Mountains. We passed the stars of Los Angeles County: Glendale, Pasadena, and Arcadia, and then through San Bernadino and into Riverside, offramp after offramp, an endless suburban sprawl too vast to even comprehend.
I knew we were in Palm Springs because I saw the rows of illuminated palm trees. We headed to the Coachella festival grounds and pulled into a carpark where there was a stand to pick up our accreditation, a move that would save us valuable time in the morning. It was 10pm when we made it to our hotel, and we were shattered. Paul seemed like he still had gas in the tank, but he must have been pretending. I headed straight to bed to prepare my body for the rigours of a festival weekend.
