Thursday, December 8
The morning air is chilly as the Perfect Tow Vehicle pulls the Best Little Trailer out of the boondock on Turtle Mountain Road, south of Needles, California.
The vents in the PTV’s dash shoot hot air on me in the driver’s seat and on Reggie in his doggie bed beside my seat.
“Gosh, it’s not even nine o’clock and we’re on the road,” I say to myself and Reg.
“We’ll be in Blythe well before noon.”
Traffic is light on Route 95 as I drive along with my mind on automatic pilot, until Reggie indicates he wants to stop. I park the PTV at the next pull-out.
A sign across the road reads Blythe Intaglios.
“I’ve wanted to see that. We should go look. Instead of driving up there, let’s walk. We could use the exercise since we didn’t do much yesterday.”
Reggie likes this idea!
We dart across the road and walk up the gravel lane.
“I think they’re on the other side of this hill, Reg.”
The intaglios are fenced in with chain-link to protect them from further damage from vehicles.
I don’t take photos because the drawings aren’t easily seen from the ground. Aerial shots are much better.
Later while researching on the web I found this photo of one of the intaglios we see. It was taken in 1932 before vehicle tracks marred the drawing. The intaglios are huge!
To learn more about the Blythe Intaglios and to see photos of them, click this link: jqjacobs.net
As Reggie and I stand near the fence, I take a photo of the BLT and PTV parked along the road below us.
Further beyond are the gold tamarisk trees and even further beyond, the Colorado River.
Gee, we only have about fifteen more miles to Blythe . . . .
At the north side of town, the PTV turns onto 4th street and rumbles steadily alongside an irrigation canal.
There are the Big Maria Mountains!
We cross another irrigation canal and I stop, bring down the window, and take a photo of a curious Reggie looking out.
Another Reggie classic for my collection . . .
All is familiar to me now . . . the green fields, the small houses with palm trees, the egret community . . . .
Soon we’re turning into Midland LTVA!
Not as many RVs as last year. I remember that one . . . and that one . . . Oh, please, let our spot be empty!
I drive across the sandy wash to the more remote section.
“No one is here!” I exclaim with delight. “Reg! We have it all to ourselves. And there’s our ironwood tree.”
“Hello, Big Maria!” I say while climbing down from the driver’s seat. “We’re back!”
I let Reggie out on his tether and we walk around the site, checking it over for any changes.
Hmm . . . What’s that under there?
“Hahaha! Reggie! It’s Pink Piggy! I can’t believe it’s still here . . . all these months, winds, shifting sand, grueling heat . . . . ”
I pick up the toy and hold it out for Reggie to sniff.
“Aww, poor Pink Piggy, I wondered what happened to you. You’re in good shape, a little pale and tired-looking, but who wouldn’t be.”
I become aware of the warmth of the sun, shining brightly on us.
“Reggie, let me get you a drink and then I’m going to get into a tank top and short pants!”
rvsue
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