As promised, as soon as Jamaica came home Monday, we set off for the Mojave National Preserve, but decided to pass it and head to Needles for the night and then come back to it in the morning (a) because Jamaica was bent on seeing the Colorado, her “absolute favorite river” because, if you ask her, the Mississippi “is just tawdry, so dirty, so tawdry”; (b) Jamaica thought it was important that I see the Eastern-most town in CA because it’s the closest thing CA has to the wild west; and (c) Jamaica has an inexplicable fondness for Best Westerns to the point that I don’t think she would stay anywhere else if there was a Best Western within 50 miles (and there is a Best Western in Needles-so that settled that).
In the morning we made a quick pilgrimage to the Colorado (which was crystal clear and lovely, not tawdry at all), then worked our way across the Mojave Preserve (south to north), continued north from Baker to the east entrance of Death Valley Nat'l Park, then travelled west through the park and finally, home. It was a solid 13 hours of driving 85-120 (broke 120 3 times after explicitly asking Jamaica if she wanted to have some fun and getting an affirmative response). Our entire 13 hour journey, Jamaica (who first cemented her notoriety in the literary world long ago with her gardening column in the New Yorker) was calling out every flower we flew past (and screaming at me to stop for the very rare ones). We literally only saw two flowers all day that she didn’t know the name of. Mindblowing.
Non-wildflower oriented highlights include Jamaica figuring out what I should do with the rest of my life: "be a commander.” She was very adamant that this is my calling, as I am “so brilliant, so fearless and so utterly intolerant of any sort of incompetence.” This revelation came to her somewhere after the third time I pulled over and took the map away from her so I could figure out where we were going. Her conviction was reaffirmed at dinner when I confronted a table of blind drunk, unbelievably obnoxious guys who were making it impossible for anyone else in the room to hold a conversation. After exchanging multiple eye rolls and head shakes with our fellow diners, I finally went over to these guys to ask them to keep it down, whereupon the ringleader in his black shirt, black suit and gold chains stood up and shouted at me “hey baby, why donchu chill out and have a drink and get on our level." My response was something like, “um, I’ve actually already had two bottles of sake and I still think you are the most obnoxious people I have ever had to be in the same room as in my lifetime…jackass.”
After I had them moved to another room and returned to my table, getting little thank you nods and smiles from our fellow diners, Jamaica’s immediate response was, “that’s why you should be leading our troops! That was wonderful. Oh, our fearless leader.” After a moment of thought she continued, “I’m just so glad nobody got shot. I really thought they might pull some guns out, especially that ice, ice baby one. Do you think he’s that ice, ice baby? It could be, looks just like him.” “No,” I said, “I will grant you that they might share a wardrobe and a lot of fashion tips, but I don’t think that’s actually vanilla ice.” Nodding her head in thought as she picked her chopsticks back up, she concluded, “well that was wonderful, really well done and I’m so glad nobody got shot. I’m telling you, you’ve really missed your calling. All your men would be so happy to follow you into battle...and they probably wouldn't even get shot!” She was adamant enough that she got me thinking about whether I really had missed my calling, but then I remembered that I am gay and that my girl ban will expire in a year and a half and I would have to start all over again as a boring lawyer then, so I decided it was probably best not to run off and join the military just yet.
Also included in the non-wildflower oriented highlights has to be doing 100 down the highway with Jamaica dancing in her seat next to me, both fingers snapping in the air, singing every word of “Rock Steady” by the Whispers. That is one that I will never forget.
Finally, I promised Jamaica I would tell my readers how I've stayed "in such great shape" over the last six weeks of eating junk all day and all night and almost never exercising, so...I eat beef jerky all day and do 100 push ups when I get to my hotel every night. She seemed to think that my beef jerky and push up diet could really help some people achieve the body they have always dreamed of. Now combine that with the secret recipe for my fabulous windblown hairstyle that I shared in my "Ready to Launch" post and you might just wake up gorgeous one of these day.
Jamaica was very excited to find this rare Desert Milkweed between Essex and I-40
Mojave: Jimson Weed/Sacred Datura with the Kelso Dunes (or as Jamaica calls them, the "Nothing Dunes" because they are nothing compared to the Imperial Sand Dunes) in the background.
Mojave: Indigo Bush, Joshua Trees and the Amboy lava fields in the background.
Death Valley: This hungry little coyote prompted quite the window war between Jamaica and I-I kept trying to put hers down for a better picture, while she kept trying to put it up because she didn't "want to die with that thing attached to [her] neck." He was so cute and hungry...I wanted to just hug him and give him whatever the equivalent is of a 16 ounce ribeye in the coyote world...but Jamaica said no.
Death Valley: Artist's Drive
Death Valley: Artist's Palette (and Jamaica)
Death Valley: Badlands around Zabriskie Point
Death Valley: Wildflowers, from front to back--Mojave Sun Cup, Apricot Globemallow, Indigo Bush and Prince's Plume (top left corner-long stems with yellow flowers).
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