2/22/20 Castaic, CA to Barstow, CA 163 miles
To see the entire trip go to www.tanstaaflpress.com/tgrt/
So, sleeping right next to the freeway is a jarring and not very restful experience. I managed to get a few more hours sleep but not quite enough to get through the entire day. I did write fifteen hundred words or so on Of Demons and Coal, which got me out of there later than I’d hoped.
I lived for eleven or so years in the greater LA area. Can’t say that I loved even a single minute of the experience. I know people who LOVE the city experience. I personally don’t. Too many people, going anywhere is pretty much a full day’s adventure in BLEH. So in all the time I’d been in LA, I never managed to make it to La Brea Tar Pits. I was determined to at least visit. It almost didn’t happen.
Oh, let me interject that I’d lost my LA driving skills in the 22 or so years since I’ve been back. Driving in LA is NOT for the faint of heart. I’d rather face a wyvern than to drive those freeways. The 163 miles I mentioned above ended up took over seven hours!
Back to the Tar Pits. Now there are no freeways anywhere near the pits. And despite this it is in the MIDDLE of the city. So I should get some kind of medal for driving my trailer through very narrow city streets packed with aggressive drivers and pedestrians. Once I arrived and could see the park, there was no place to park my double long vehicle. I drove around the block three times and had pretty much given up when I found two curbside parking places together. With the aplomb of many years of backing a trailer, I managed to worm my way into the spot. Paying two different meters, I was off to see the pits.
Now, I wasn’t close, so when I saw some rental electric scooters, I thought I was in for a much more joyous experience. After downloading the app, I found that the scooters I’d found close to me were all “in maintenance”. Sigh. So shanks mare seemed to be my option. Walking did have some advantages. I saw a couple of neat pieces of art – a fountain and what will be a subway building.
I grabbed some pics of the tar pits. Most everything I knew from science classes in high school, but I did learn one thing from the visit… the pits aren’t natural. At one time they were actually mined for the tar to cover roofs. The holes eventually filled in with water, which is why they have that oily liquid in them. I hadn’t had time to go into the museum. Overall, a disappointment but I had checked off another bucket list item.
Lo and behold, as I exited the park there were more scooters and these were available. I had to try. I rented one and zipped back to my car. And then back to the pits. And then around the block. And then… I had more fun on that damned scooter than the few minutes I’d spent reading signs I probably could have written before I even arrived.
Time to leave. I slogged my way out of the inner city (at least meriting the Bronze Medal), finally making the freeway, where I slogged more and again. What a pain in the fundamentals.
I was driving (could have walked faster) down I10 when I see an RV dealership. As a break I decide to go ogle. Now a question for the reader: Why would an RV dealership not have places for an RV to park? Not one. Do they assume no one would come in an RV or with a trailer? What about their service section? It makes no sense. I didn’t even get out of my car. Performed a multipoint turn in a DEAD END parking lot and left. Oh, well.
Shortly after this the freeways started opening up. My chest loosened. My breathing became easier. My foot stopped cramping from slamming on the brake everytime an idiot decided I’d left just enough room in front of me to squeeze into. How little things can make us joyful!
Made it as far as Barstow (high desert) before my eyelids started drooping. I was still two hours from Vegas (my next port of call) but intelligence won out over desire. Driving tired is a big mistake. I pulled into one of the multiple truck stops and called it a night.
Next: On to Sin City