Like millions of other people all around the world, Joe and I recently huddled spellbound around the tiny screen on our I-Phone as the SpaceX Falcon Heavy was launched into space. We held our collective breaths as clouds of fire and smoke erupted from beneath her as she sat on the launch pad. Moments later we cheered in unison as her three mighty engines thrust her massive body towards the heavens, and again as Starman was seen "driving" through the outer atmosphere and out into space. I was reminded of the feeling I had so many years ago as I and my classmates gathered around a tiny tv set atop an ugly grey-green wheeled metal cart and watched an astronaut in a space suit step off a ladder onto the surface of the moon. Whether or not you believe we actually went to the moon on that day back in 1969, it doesn't change how we all felt back then; we knew we had just witnessed something incredible, and that somehow the future of the world had just changed forever.
Later in the day, as the excitement of the Falcon launch ebbed a bit, I began to relect on what an amazing history of travel and exploration this country has, and how it has inspired the pioneers of
transportation to invent and innovate at a furious pace. Just think about it; a private citizen and his staff of brilliant individuals just launched a massive rocket, complete with re-usable parts, into space. How spectacular is that?! They just completely re-wrote the future of space travel, much like Henry Ford and his peers changed the future of land travel with the advent of affordable automobiles.
As Joe and I and our three fur-children roam happily around the desert southwest, I can't help but think about the daring folks who first crossed this rugged and expansive part of the land that would one day become America. As we roll along (mostly) paved highways at 55 MPH, I ponder how we can comfortably cover in an hour the same distance that would have taken a wagon train four or five days of struggle in the dust and heat. While we chug bottled spring water fresh from the 'fridge, they would have limited
themselves to an occasional sip of tepid water from a wooden barrel in order to reserve most of it for their staunchly laboring oxen, without which many of them would have died under the blazing desert sun. As darkness approaches we take our pick of the numerous boondocking spots generously provided by the State or BLM on our public lands. We put down our stabilizing jacks to make the coach steady and perfectly level and rely on our roof mounted solar panels and battery banks to provide power to enjoy our evening complete with computers, television, DVD's and enough lights to illuminate an airport runway should we elect to use them all at once (which we don't, for obvious reasons). Early travelers would have fed, watered and groomed their irreplaceable animals, collected firewood if there was any available, built a fire to cook supper, collected buckets of water if they were lucky enough to not have a dry camp, pointed the wagon tongue towards the north star, re-greased the wagon axles and made any repairs needed before falling exhausted into bed (often on the hard rocky ground). A few hours later, they would rise before dawn to do it all again, and again, and again; sometimes for a year or more before finally reaching their destination. The funny part of all this is...most people think we are "roughing it" because we avoid developed campgrounds in favor of boondocking whenever we can!
As difficult as the trip was for the pioneers who came by wagon and pushing hand carts (never see that in Hollywood movies, do you; not romantic enough!), there were others who came even before they did. It was the explorers, trappers, traders and freighters who first opened the vast western territories. After them came the miners and railroad men and the women who followed them, and of course the beloved and much romanticized American cowboy. Diverse as these groups of individuals were, all of them had one trait in common; they were all willing to leave everyone and everything behind in order to reach out and grasp the chance for a new and better life. Some of them succeeded and many did not, but they were the basis of a hardy breed that came to be known as "The Westerner".
We see evidence of The Westerner everywhere out here; in the audacity of a stone castle built in the desolation of Death Valley; in the tiny windblasted miner's cabin still clinging to a barren desert peak; and in the remains of a wooden plank road built across seven miles of shifting sand in the Algodones Dunes in California's Imperial Valley.
Having always been fascinated with this country's infatuation with the automobile, Joe and I made it a point to visit the historic landmark dedicated to protecting the remains of the Old Plank Road. Located just off I-8 on Gray's Well Rd, the monument preserves a section of the wooden plank road used by early auto travelers to drive from Yuma, AZ to San Diego, CA shortly after the turn of the twentieth century. The story of the plank road has all the elements of a good western; a race, a rivalry, a personal challenge, wheeling and dealing by politicians and business tycoons, an element of danger and just a bit of romance.
The curtain rises on Act I as a growing rivalry develops between the rapidly expanding California cities of Los Angeles and San Diego. The city of San Diego had recently missed out on being chosen as a western terminus for the transcontinental railway and was determined not to miss out on becoming a major destination for the newly burgeoning automobile travel industry. Their major rival in the southern part of the state was the equally important city of Los Angeles. "Colonel" Ed Fletcher, a prominent local businessman and road builder, decided to sponsor an automobile race between Souther California and Phoenix, AZ. The Los Angeles Examiner newspaper, upon hearing of the race, issued a personal challenge to Fletcher. He accepted and a race was arranged to be held in October of 1912. It was agreed that a reporter from the Examiner would be given a 24 hour head start as he raced from L.A., while Fletcher himself would represent his city as he raced from San Diego to Phoenix. Each driver would be allowed to choose his own route. The "Colonel" chose a course which directly crossed the Imperial Dunes, where he hired a team of six horses to drag his car across the
loose sand. He won the race with a time of 19.5 hours.
The success of this venture caught the attention of Ed Boyd, a member of the Imperial County Board of Supervisors, and he and his constituents convinced the Board to make available $8600 for construction costs to build a road across the Sand Hills from San Diego to Yuma, AZ. Meanwhile, Fletcher had managed to raise enough money to purchase 13,000 planks and ship them to Holtville, CA, near where the road would be built. Their cause was further advanced when the Federal Government, in conjunction with the States of Arizona and California, approved the construction of an automobile bridge across the
Colorado River at Yuma. All this was happening as the City of San Diego was planning a grand exhibition to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal in 1915. They were expecting a huge crowd and a good system of roads would be a vital step in increasing automobile access to visitors. This was their chance to show the world that they were a forward thinking city that was looking to the future, and perhaps put one over on their nearby rival!
The city hired L.F. (Newt) Gray to supervise the building of the new road. Being something of a visionary himself, Gray sank a well at the western edge of the Sand Hills and was fortunate enough to strike water. This was where he established a camp to be used by the road building crews and the area became known locally as Grays Well. In later years, after the completion of the road, the area would become a popular destination for picnics and automobile parties, and Gray would build a small building from which he would sell cold drinks and other road supplies. Rumor has it that during prohibition the cold drinks served became much more refreshing!
During the construction of the road Gray supervised a mixed crew of both paid and volunteer workers. The crews laid two parallel wooden tracks attached by spikes to wooden crossbars below. These two tracks were each 25" wide. Drivers were required to accomplish the tricky task of keeping each set of front and rear tires on the proper track for the entire distance of the road; a lapse in attention could bring dire results and long delays as cars were lifted back onto the tracks. Driver stress levels notwithstanding, when the 6.5 mile stretch east of Grays Well Rd. was completed on March 4, 1915 it was an almost immediate hit with automobilists. One week later an outing of 25 cars with more than a hundred passengers completed the road and enthusiastically endorsed it with rave reviews!
The popularity of the newly opened plank road was a mixed blessing for the roadway itself. The almost constant vibration as cars bumped along the wooden planks combined with the scraping of the mule drawn blades used to clear drifting sand off of the road soon caused irreversable damage to the wooden road. The plank road continued to deteriorate, but the original road had proved the value of a means of crossing the Sand Hills by automobile. In June of 1915 the California State Automobile Commission took over the responsibility of maintaining the road, but too much damage had already taken place to save the original two track road. In 1916 they built a new road, this time a single eight foot wide cross-tie style road with double wide turnouts every 1000 feet to allow for passing. The twelve foot long sections, each weighing about 1500 pounds, were pre-assembled at a plant built for the purpose in the nearby mining town of Ogilby (near where we camped on American Girl Mine Rd, which is off of Ogilby Rd). The sections were unloaded from the transport wagons and lowered into place by a crane. From 1916-1926 a permanent maineinance crew was stationed near Grays Well but the job of keeping the road cleared was made almost impossible by the oft-occurring sand storms in the area. Every few days the road was covered by drifting sand which the crews had to repeatedly remove while motorists waited impatiently.
A road that was impassible much of the time was still better than no road at all, and the bumpy wooden track continued to gain popularity with local and cross-country drivers alike. Traffic jams at turnouts became a common occurrence on the narrow wooden road. Like the story of Robin Hood and Little John, face-offs along the road became the stuff of local legend. One group of multiple cars, when faced with a lone driver who refused to give way, solved the problem by lifting the other car off the track until their group was past and then placing it back on the track! Highway engineers took note and began studying the constantly shifting dunes as they searched for a long-term answer to the problems of keeping a road open across the Sand Hills. What they discovered was that sand hills over 100 feet high actually moved very slowly, while shorter hills moved much more quickly. Acting on this information, in August of 1926 crews completed a new twenty foot wide road with an asphaltic concrete surface on a built-up sand embankment.
Despite a lingering warm-fuzzy feeling among motorists for the old wooden plank road, it was allowed to deteriorate for many years before a cry went up for preservation. The problem was, not much was left by this time. Several sections had been given away for display purposes in other parts of the country. A large piece was destroyed when the All American Canal was built, and much of the remaining wood had been burned for firewood by people camping nearby. The remaining sections are now protected by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) who, along with the Imperial Valley Pioneer Historical Society, California Off Road Vehicle Association and individual Air Force personnel worked together in the early 1970's to assemble several remaining sections from various locations into one segment to be preserved for future generations. Because of their efforts, there is a nice interpretive display along with sections of the 1916 version of the plank road located at the California Historical Landmark at the west end of Grays Well Rd. (just south of I-8) in Imperial County, CA.
If you have ever enjoyed an automobile road trip through the Great American Desert, the Old Plank Road is really a must see. If you close your eyes real tight, hold your breath, and stand very still you can almost hear those early automobiles full of intrepid Westerners chugging and bumping their way across the shifting Sand Hills on narrow, creaking wooden planks.
Wherever your journey takes you, Westerners and Honorary Westerners alike, grab the opportunities where you can...we only get one shot to get it right!!
Peace! -Lynn
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Here in the far southeastern California desert a mighty conflict is taking place as spring struggles to steal the landscape back from winter's cold grasp .Days here at this time of year can be warm and sunny or cold and windy, but at the end of day the temperature inevitably drops faster than the setting sun. Sometimes the azure blue sky hosts a selection of pillowy-soft clouds; occasionally they darken and treat us to a brief rain shower, sometimes warm but more often not. When it rained last week the wind blew so hard that only the side of the coach facing into the storm, the roof, and part of the windshield received any moisture at all. I took advantage of the raindrops we did get to wash the windows on that side of our motorhome. In this arid desert region one quickly learns not to squander the gifts nature blesses you with.
While the shower was brief and light where we are, other nearby areas were granted a more significant amount of moisture and I am excited by the knowlege that somewhere deep within the beating heart of the desert country the beginnings of a blazingly beautiful spring bloom is taking place. I can see it in the lone red-orange ocotillo flowers hesitantly appearing here and there atop tall spiny stalks, but mostly I can feel it in the energy of the very earth and sky above and below me. There is an electricity in the air, an expectation of the magical transformation just around the corner. Spring becomes a lightning rod for all the energy of the vast universe, and it is channeled into those first brilliant red blossoms. A promise has been made and accepted; life and color will return to this harsh and dusty land. Wildflowers in every color of the rainbow will carpet the valleys and slopes, and the fierce cacti will once again don their Sunday best in a brief but spectacular display of flame-bright color. The soft spring rains will come and the water holes will fill again. For a few short weeks, color will wash the southwest like an artist's canvas; scarlet and crimson, gold and lilac...all the colors of a blazing sunset will fall to earth in one unbelievable shower of life.
As always in the desert, there is a high price to be paid for the unparalleled beauty of this annual re-awakening, for spring is followed quickly by summer. The bright hues of spring rapidly succumb to the earth-shattering heat of summer. The desert once again adopts a mantle of dusty sage and hazy purple, and the silvery-grey horizon becomes obscured by a shimmering curtain of heat as far as the eye can see.
Most of us will follow the spring north, individually and in groups, staying just ahead of the hot weather. This can be accomplished by either going further and further north, or by going up in altitude; both option allow for many choices within the southwestern portion of the U.S. Some travelers will return to an established home somewhere the snow has just melted; most will continue full-timing year 'round. Once you have enjoyed the uninhibited freedom of a nomadic lifestyle it is hard to return to a stationery existence. After all, what other lifestyle allows you to prolong the beauty and magic of spring halfway through summer?
