United States trip - Part III

There we were, in a big, white truck. A massive Dodge RAM Hemi. 5.7L V8, loaded to the hilt with all our gear and 4 people. I think my car at home could have fit in the cargo tray, and another exact same car could fit in the passenger area. This thing was enormous.

Which ever way you put it, the drive was a damn sight better than the bus from Texas to LA. But I tell you what, the adventure could never be replicated by a car. It was fun. But it's been done. And now we were travelling in comfort and style.... and clean.

Our first stop was for a quick break to pee, smoke and stretch our legs. Back in the car we zoomed through California and before we knew it, we were some place else. The scenery really didn't change much, but we were heading to Laughlin to meet up with a team of Jeep owners that are all happy customers of my cousin. The trip was organised for fun, pleasure and catching up with others who love the outdoors.

There, I was introduced to many of my cousin's friends who regularly go camping, fishing and party. A few people will always be remembered. They were friendly, funny and I won't forget Jeff, who introduced me to Geocaching and also hurt my brain by using his phone in the middle of the Mojave, updating his Facebook and emailing people. WTF? I told him "If this was Australia, we would have lost reception on our phones yesterday. I live in suburbia and I lose a signal. Here we are in the middle of nowhere, and you can pretty much run your business from behind this boulder. Amazing."

He was shocked to hear that I was surprised. Then we made a joke about how backwards us Australians are. And the rest of the evening was an onslaught of back and forth America vs Australia jokes. There was much talk about his affection with bacon and our weird ways on the butt end of the planet.

Our first evening in Laughlin was about meeting up, gambling, drinking and eating, in that order. I skipped the gambling due to my own personal beliefs behind it. I got weird looks, but then again, I'm from Australia, I get weird looks no matter what country I go to.

My wife and I ended up walking down by the river and caught a water taxi which took us on a round trip from hotel to hotel and back where we started. We met the driver of the boat, I guess captain of his vessel, but I imagine the appropriate title is skipper. I don't know. However, he was a young chap about 25 years old, named Doug. And he picked my accent immediately.

Not only that, but he know about Australia. About our politics, about our land, and our water restrictions. We spoke for quite some time and he played tour guide for us, which we thought was nice because really all he had to do was shut up and get us around the waters for 30 minutes. But he didn't and we were very thankful he was friendly and talked to us. We learnt about the land a bit more and about the river, about the way of life and how people live out there. We learnt about the culture and about the conservation of the area. We learnt about how Doug himself had bought property in Colorado and had started building his house from adobe bricks made from the land which he bought. I thought that was cool. I had met an American, in person, that wasn't a consumer of things with no idea of where they come from, or care where they come from, just GIMME GIMME GIMME!

That isn't to say I thought of all the American people like that, however, it was hard to shake off that stigma, when that's how the people are portrayed, and that's how you remember it as a child when you live there and see it happening in front of you. Since I said this so long ago back in part one, I'll remind you that my vision of America was jaded due to my childhood and adolescent experiences there. This lead me to believe the rest of the nation was like this and that I wanted to part of it. What I love more than being right is being proven wrong. I love learning new things, and this visit taught me I was wrong all along.

Our first stop out of Laughlin was hitting the actual trail that goes through the Mojave. I can't tell you what it was called, but I can tell you that we had to stop at the beginning of it to air down our tyres.

And after 30 minutes of airing down, talking crap, discussing lunch, talking more crap, making jokes, more racism comments were flung around the sand about Australia and America and how stupid we both are. We finally got in to our trucks in good spirits and high hopes.

And I wasn't disappointed. The Mojave was beautiful. the ruined hotels, shacks, abandoned cars and stops on the way when Jeff jumped out the car and started to look for a Geocache was great. We spent 30 minutes looking for it. It was here somewhere, amongst the 300 tin cans, all with holes in them. Shot to pieces, laid down in the sand as if they were placed there on purpose. One can had the Geocache in it. One can held the treasure. We finally found it, logged the find and put the can back for the next person to find. Back on the trail again.

We finally made it an hour before sunset. Our first camp spot for the night was set up in less than an hour. What was previously an empty clearing between hills of rocks, boulders and sand was now our home for the evening.

A fire was started, tents were pitched, and tables were set up. Food was cooking and drinks were drunk. There was much talking. I kept quiet for once, however, I wanted to hear all the stories people had. I was there to learn about what was going on in American life since I left it over 20 years ago.

Jokes were told in poor taste, but as always, it's the really bad ones you cringe at, while somehow still laughing at another persons misfortune and expense. The good side to this is that the person at the butt of the joke had a sense of humour too, and would retaliate with something a little stronger or with just as much bite.

The night went on and it got really dark, really fast. The fire kept us warm, and I was laughed at for wearing a jumper (sweat shirt) all day long in the sun. I told them that it wasn't that hot, while they all laughed, and sweated, in their shorts and t-shirts. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to have another dig at piss weak America vs' us tough Aussies. So I said "This is like our Winter right now. So I'm bloody freezing. You think this is hot, mate, it gets to about 118°F in spring in Australia." Then I told them the big lie like your dad would tell you about walking 4 hours to school in 47ft of snow. "In summer it gets so hot we have to park our cars on the grass so our tyres don't melt.... You think I'm lying, last summer got to 50°C in my backyard. What's that in Fahrenheit? Like 130 or something?"

Some laughed, others thought I wasn't kidding. Then I looked at them and said "You yanks, bunch of poofs" and I skulled my beer.

Eventually the night was broken up by my cousin's husband shooting off what I think is a 44 magnum. Whatever it was, it was a hand canon that went off with such a bang, that the night critters shut up. It was with such an awesome sound that there was a ball of fire around the gun as it went off. The sound was incredibly deafening. Everyone shut up for a good minute. Then someone came back to Earth and said something smart about what goes up must come down. Now we had 15 or so people scared of a bullet coming back down to kill one of us.

Off to bed. The tent was set up, warm and cosy. We slept well and woke up the following morning ready to eat breakfast, pack up camp and head off on the Mojave trail to the next settlement. Breakfast was great, and allowed both America vs' Australia jokes to ensure. The bacon appeared and from then on the dares came in to see what we could eat bacon with. Using it as a swizzle stick for our milk shake, sausage wrapped in bacon, battered then deep fried. Bacon and donut sandwiches. It went on and on to the point where it almost got old. So we stopped, only to start up again when someone appeared out of nowhere with more bacon.

Camp was packed up, everyone went to the toilet. The food was eaten and we were off again. This time the leader of the convoy took us down a short cut. And as with all short cuts, most are never short. The distance travelled was cut by a significant amount, allowing us ample time to get to our next camp spot early, however, being a less used trail meant that there was some overgrowth to deal with.

The Jeeps were okay, being only slightly thinner, and with guards that stuck out. The mighty Dodge Ram was a little bit on the porky side to be sliding down these cactus overgrown trails of disuse. So, we walked a good 15 kilometres of the trail pulling cactus plants to one side to allow the vehicles to get through without scratches.

When we finally made it to the other side, we all said that the longer way would have actually been shorter in time, despite being further in distance. But either way, an adventure.

Our next stop was at a desert spring where fresh, cold water appeared out of nowhere. I took the opportunity to take a small hike on my own. Everyone took the low road (easy road). I took the high road (the not so easy road), and while everyone turned back and went back to the cars, I walked around and got lost. Don't fret, I did keep my eye on the cars and when they weren't in sight, I made sure I stuck to the trail. I made it up to a fence line and then decided to turn back, going back the low road and backing it back in time where everyone was waiting for me. Sorry :)

We got in the cars and drove some more, stopping a short while later at what I can only call an intersection. Two dirt roads met in a cross. We were the only ones around. All of a sudden another convey of Jeeps and 4X4's all surrounded us. I looked at Jeff and said "I can't believe it, a traffic jam in the desert. If this was Australia, we probably wouldn't run into another person for two weeks". Yet here we are. In the middle of a desert and we've run into not only a person, but many people. A group bigger than ours.

Since this created a traffic nightmare in the middle of nowhere, we had to shift around our cars to get everyone going in their respectful direction. A Jeep in the other group got their gearbox stuck in reverse. How, I don't know. But we checked out upon deciding that they (the group) was good to go.

On the trail again we finally made it to our spot. However, lots of other people had the same idea, coming to a camping area in the Mojave that appears to be quite popular. We had to turn around and find somewhere else.

We eventually did and it was nice. Nothing like the first place where there were light coloured, sandy hills, boulders and rocks. This place was cold, windy and full of black, volcanic rocks. It was amazing how cold it was, even with the sun up, and more laughs were made at the poor, weak Aussie who can't handle the cool air, with everyone else still in shorts and t-shirts boiling hot. Hahhahaha. We set up camp in the more secluded, cosy spot and the evening was pretty much a repeat of the previous night.

Waking up the next morning was lovely. I had in fact got up during the night to pee, being too lazy to dress up again, I walked into the dark desert with the moonlight shining off my bare arse. I stood there almost naked, apart from my footwear and a shirt, peeing into the cool night breeze and making sure it wasn't on someone's tent. Hahahahaha. It wasn't. I had walked a good 100 metres of so away from the camp site, with my only concern being stepping on a critter that might get mad and bite me, me screaming, the camp waking up and seeing me running around the site in my full Porky Pig outfit (shirt and no pants) and a snake hanging off my arse cheek.

Luckily the event went without a hitch. I finished my bit in watering a desert plant in the Mojave and walked back to my tent, got into my sleeping blanket and went back to sleep.

Breakfast consisted of the greasiest of greasiest breakfast burritos I've ever seen. Two kinds of bacon cooked in bacon fat, sausage, oil, hash browns and eggs. All wrapped in a tortilla. I tell you what, it tasted amazing.

An hour later, we had broken camp and were starting to make the trail out of the Mojave, slowly making our way home back to LA when we stopped at a lava tube where we all went in to look. It was brilliant. It was cool down there, which was contradictory to my belief of a lava tube being hot. Then again, if it was hot, what were the chances of climbing down into it? I spent a few minutes in there and then we ducked out to catch up with everyone else.

All of a sudden, an eruption!

From my belly. I had all of 2 seconds to run into the scrub. The low lying bushes offering me no privacy. I think the breakfast burrito had indeed made way through my system and wanted out. NOW!

I found a bush that offered some privacy and before I could get my pants down, I was gone. Sad to say, I have never felt more relief in my entire life. Once I got back to the cars, everyone was curious to what I was up to. I just said "Oh man, I'm so hungry right now I could eat another one of those burritos." I got laughed at for having the runs and I made fun of myself while poking fun at the cook "Those burritos: Goes in greasy, comes out easy."

From then on, was dubbed the Lava Tube king of the Mojave. Later than afternoon we made it out to Peggy Sue's 50's Diner. I loved it, and had I not been camping for three days, I would have loved to have had all the waitresses pose with me and get a picture taken.

Sadly, I didn't want to put them through that. They were too pretty, and their whole persona, with that great accent, the way they looked, the way they mentioned the specials, it was brilliant. I was taken back.

Then the food came out. It tasted great. While it was nothing special, just a burger with chips, it was the nicest I had in the U.S.

On the road again, we were off. Next stop home... well, not my home, my Cousin's. We made one last stop for them to have a smoke, and us to stretch our legs. I just wanted fresh air, but my wife wandered into a crazy shop full of quirky figurines and statues, gizmos and gadgets and all sorts of other things.

An hour or two later, we finally arrived home. Unpacked the car and showered, washed clothes and packed our bags, as this time tomorrow, we'd be at LAX getting on our plane to return to Australia.

The next morning was a lazy, reluctant morning. While I was happy on the idea of coming home, I was sad to be leaving my cousin's place. I was sad that my holiday was over and returning home meant getting back to work. I was sad that the last three weeks were over in a flash and that there were so many things, people and places I didn't get to see, hear or experience.

We did have one more adventure left in us. My cousin dropped us back off at the train station in Santa Clarita and our train arrived 12 minutes later, whisking us back to Union Station in L.A. From there we had to make it into Hollywood. Since my wife had never been, it was worth the effort of lugging around our luggage for the day. Sadly, being 22 years since I was in L.A. itself, proved that I had lost a lot of my memory of it. With the train system being a new addition for me, I had to get my bearings right. We walked down Sunset Blvd for about an hour until I remembered that the stars on the footpath were on Hollywood Blvd. Asking a random guy ensured I was mistaken and we dove up a side street that connects the two iconic roads together. Catching a bus, due to the distance made light work and we finally made it into a part of Hollywood that allowed us to meet a locally operated tour which took us around the place for the next 2 hours.

The great thing about that was, we didn't have to cart our luggage around, and it killed 2 hours of our time, which we had plenty of since our flight was due for 7pm boarding. It was still midday. So we hopped on the tour and off we went, with the most unfunniest comedian in L.A. He tried too hard, he talked waaaaaay to fast, even for an Aussie. If he went to Texas, I think people there would think he was speaking tongues. He made a black joke, and the black family behind us wasn't impressed. Well, technically, the kids and the husband laughed. I laughed too. But the wife was not happy. And rightfully so, the tour guide really wasn't funny at all.

Another local tour operator rolled up beside us with what can only be a coincidence, young Australian tourists on their worst behaviour. By this stage, the small van with a few customers on board knew I was from Australia and when they heard the young lads being idiots, they just ignored them. We all did. I then muttered "Ignore them. Not all us Australians are arseholes like them."

The tour continued and we got out of the van after seeing the Hollywood sign up close, both Hollywood and Sunset strip, Beverly Hills, famous houses, iconic houses, Rodeo Drive and a few other places that I really didn't care for, but I came along for the ride mainly because my wife had never seen the places and wanted to.

Sadly, my negative feeling about L.A. rubbed off on her and she wasn't happy with me being a party pooper. Sadly, L.A. had not changed for me one bit. Apart from forgetting how to get around the place, I did remember the people there, and while I do remember a great deal of people there that I loved and that loved me, I also remember the amount of people I met there that were really just life suckers. They made their own lives hell and wanted to take you down with them. The tour guide was one such person, continuously knocking L.A. The land of broken dreams. The high cost of living. I like hearing the truth from people, but I also like hearing a good lie, and I guess when you're a tourist, you want everything to be glamourised, even if you smell a turd. Roll it in glitter and let us bask in the sunlight that reflects off it. We know it's shit, but it's shiny. As a tourist on this tour, we received no such glitter. There wasn't even an attempt at polishing this turd. It was served on a paper plate and a plastic fork. Take it how you want. I enjoyed my time in L.A. because it was a time I used to really see, as an adult, if this town that influenced my beginnings so much was really as bad as I remembered.

The truth was this is still is. I didn't like L.A. I'd never ever live there. And looking at the time, we stopped for a refresher at Starbucks, caught some free wifi and started to make our way back to the trains to get to LAX.

Looking at the train map I discovered that we'd have to go through Compton and the surrounding areas. I said to my wife, "A lot can change in 20+ years, let's hope that my skin colour isn't an issue anymore." Recalling a time when I was transferred out of Grant School in Hollywood due to overcrowding in classrooms and shipped off in a bus, daily to a school near Compton, being picked on and threatened of my life, being the only white kid around. I thought it was a sick joke, but in reality, I have stab wounds and scars to remind me that it wasn't funny at all.

Riding the train through that area proved it was okay, but I never stopped to get out and see the place, however, the other passengers on the train did go from mostly white, to mostly black, then it was mostly empty on our way to the airport to catch the shuttle bus to the terminal.

To say the ride on the train was uneventful would be a lie. We did have one guy turn up, sit down and hold on to a large pink box in his arm. The large pink box contained images nude women, dancing on poles, and standing and sitting in various positions. At first I thought it was a blow up doll. It turned out to be a pole dancing pole.

However, the images suggested otherwise and one of two people made a comment, laughing. I laughed too, but  it wasn't so funny when at the next stop a young girl of maybe 5 or 6 years old got on, only to be told that perhaps she shouldn't sit there with her dad. All the girl did was stare at the box, and rightfully so. It was a hot pink box. She probably thought it was a giant Barbie doll, and found it hard to make out what the images of Barbie on the front of it had her doing.

Her dad realised and moved her.

Soon after, we changed trains to get on a different line and finally made our way to LAX. At this stage, we had a hunger to tame and knew that there wasn't going to be much on offer. We were over eating fast food, we didn't want overpriced, stale sandwiches, or a cookie. We wanted a nice warm meal. And we got it at this place with seafood.

I ended up ordering a vegetarian pasta which was so nice, hot and tasty and healthy, that my body went into shock at the healthiness of it, compared to the last weeks worth of food. I felt instantly better and we boarded the plane soon after, enjoying a nice flight home, listening to my iPod and my carefully chosen songs for the next 14 hours home. Arriving in Sydney, we dumped everything at home, walked around, relaxed and decided that we'd just order dinner and worry about cooking after we went shopping the following day.

My jet lag, something which only affected me for a day or two in the U.S. lasted nearly an entire fortnight back home. However, it was back to work and back to normal life again. Though since then we've stayed in Melbourne for a week and in New Zealand for a further week. So, this year has been all about travelling. I wonder where we'll go to next?


New York made an impression on me and I'd like to come back soon and do it my way. Starting off by seeing the New York I really wanted to see, The Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, and all the other little boroughs that you never hear about. I want to eat more hot dogs from the road side, and I want to stand in Time Square again and marvel at the amount of power going through all those lights. I want to go to a bar and meet locals, become friends and see them again a week later.

I want to be back in Texas, sitting in a barn, eating a rack of ribs longer than my arm. I want to meet more of the friendliest people on the planet, Texans, who will offer you the shirt on their back and not want something of yours in return, or more because they did you a favour, now pay up bitch!

I want to go back to Arizona and Nevada and see The Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, take my wife to Disneyland and go to San Francisco. I want to come down to Terlingua and meet the people I blog with, the people I almost know as friends because I read about their lives and they read about mine. There's a lot I want to see that I didn't. So there's bound to be a second U.S. trip in the next 5 years. See you then.