When we first planned our escape route out of Washington, we had six days of wiggle room with no plans or destination before we turned east and headed for Arizona. We did this because I was sure we would break down, or explode, or whatever - something that would require us to stay put somewhere off-the-beaten path for some ungodly expensive repairs. (Steven says I'm a catastrophic thinker.) We also planned a week in San Diego to visit with our daughter, Tara, and a week in Yuma.
Well, we didn't break down. We didn't blow up. Nothing terrible happened. In fact, our trip has been fairly trouble-free. But somewhere along the way, those wiggle days evaporated, our week with Tara became four days and Yuma was deleted off the schedule. I'm not exactly sure where all those days went, but nonetheless when we left Lone Pine, we were on a mission to get to San Diego with only one overnight along the way.
We had been warned that the spectacular scenery we had enjoyed thus far was about to change, and boy, did it ever. The mountains tapered off, the scrub got scrubbier, the roads got bumpier and the temperatures got hotter. We decided to stay overnight at the Elks Lodge in Hesperia, which was so unappealing we closed all of our shades and curtains and just hunkered down.
On the way to Hesperia, as we were just beginning a long climb, a big Class A came flying by us at a speed I was sure would set off his engine alarm. Worse, we noticed that his steps were out and flapping in the wind. We thought about trying to chase him, but he was in such a hurry, there was no catching up. As we were unhooking Toadie Hopper in the parking lot at the Elks Lodge, guess who came flying by? Yep, dust flying and steps still flapping.
As he began setting up, Steven walked over to let the guy know about his steps, but turns out, he already knew. He said truckers and motorists wave at him all the time, and he said, "I know exactly what they are trying to tell us! We just never know if the steps are in or out!" Steven mentioned that it might be kind of dangerous going over curbs and bridges, etc. and the guy says, "Ya think????" Oy.
We were happy our stay was just an overnight, because we found nothing appealing about Hesperia. Well, except that I did have my first ever In-N-Out burger there. That was kind of yummy.
Steven did a little research to figure out our route to San Diego. As he is want to do, he picked the shortest route, CA hwy 67. I looked it up and found out that Hwy 67 has another name - "Slaughterhouse Alley." Oy. I decided we'd stay on I-15 all the way through San Diego to El Cajon, where we were staying. (We tried to make reservations at Santee Lakes, but they were full.) Even I-15 was stressful, because the road sucked and so did the drivers. I'm thinking "Slaughterhouse Alley" might apply to many roads in California.Still, we made it to our RV park in one piece. Whew!
The views were far superior at Sunland RV Resort in El Cajon.
We had a lovely visit with Tara, and I got to meet my GrandCat, Rocky, for the first time. She's absolutely adorable, and very entertaining. We were about 25 miles from Tara, but made several trips in to see her and Rocky, and she joined us for dinner on our last night.
We prepared for departure on the night before, because we had four mountain passes to cover and it was going to be a hot one. For the sake of Scoopy's engine temps, the early, the better. We rolled out at 5:59 a.m., destination - Gila Bend, AZ.