Blog#3 The Spirit is With Me

Day 3, Bakersfield to Death Valley

I wish to thank my brother-in-law for pointing out my error in my first blog.  I have corrected show string to shoestring.  My brother-in-law is a dick.  (His name is Richard). He told me Clever American Woman may be a misnomer.

Today I left my Bakersfield secure guest suite for Death Valley. I was able to retrieve my passport and kidney from the guard as I exited through the gate. I chose to drive up Kern Canyon Road,(California Route 178), as we had developed a relationship last evening. In daylight, it truly is a scenic, albeit twisty, byway. Took longer, but I prefer the road less traveled and it was definitely worth the time. I drove through a small hamlet called South Fork and spotted what I think is an albino sparrow, amongst a flock of chipping sparrows. It moved with them, but stuck out like a flying cottonball. My husband thinks it must have been a different species, but he would never concede that I might have seen a bird that he has not. The rule in our house is, “If you didn’t get a picture, you didn’t see it”, so I have a picture, though not a good one. I can’t absolutely prove this bird is albino, but neither can my husband prove that it is not. Therefore, it is. I share this photo as a jab to my husband, not to elicit corrections to my identification, thank you Audubon members.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it

I am certain an albino sparrow is an omen that I will meet Jimmy Buffett on this trip.

I pulled into the South Fork Womens Club parking lot in chase of my flying spectre, and took this photo there.

Another omen, me thinks

Driving into the Rainbow Valley, enroute to Death Valley, I had the equivalent of 300 joules from a defibrillator hit me. Over the hill behind me and close enough that I could have thrown a rock and hit it came a fighter jet—I looked up a picture of one. It came so fast right over my car that the very loud roar seem to follow after it, as well as a blast of air that pushed my car. Then it was in front of me, just above the highway, turned at an angle to follow the curve of the road, showing me it’s undercarriage like someone mooning me. Scared the crap out of me. “Holy F- – k!!” Things inside me tightened right up, which in retrospect was good, because that could have gone another way.

Driving into the Rainbow Valley

The damned jet went on down the valley, flying so low that I could never see it’s silhouette against the sky. I ascertained later that this is military training to fly under radar detection, but am convinced that the dickhead flying that jet was getting his rocks off by messing with lone cars out in BFE. It was essentially an act of terrorism—because it terrified me. I opened my sunroof so I could flip him off if he did it again, but I only saw him once more, slinking low around a hillside and into a canyon. I am hereby putting the military on notice: I am a Clever American Woman traveling solo and sleeping in her car—of course I’m packing—so don’t screw with me. Fly over me again and I’ll throw my gun at you.

Tonight I am snuggled up in the back of my CRV in Texas Springs campground, recommended by one of the Death Valley staff. It is very quiet-no generators allowed—and very full of old people like me. The park headquarters at Furnace Creek is in it’s own little community, complete with hotel, golf course, laundromat, store, etc. You can buy a day pass to the hotel heated pool and use the showers—$5. Not bad at all. I will save my $5, as I am hygienically above average-I have spent a great amount of time with my friend, Becky, who does not believe that she sweats.  She is rubbing off on me.-  and I would not wish to frighten the public by getting into a swimsuit.
Time for sleep— the wind is rockabying my bed.  I can make up words if I want–literary advancement.

Ready for bed