Searing Heat

Escaping from LA 

Even on an early Sunday morning, leaving Los Angeles tests anyone's patience. I'm convinced LA has only two modes of traffic: heavy and heavier.

Eventually, I broke free from the congestion and found myself cruising down I-10, heading toward Palm Springs.

One of the most striking sights on the way to Palm Springs is the endless stretch of wind turbine farms dotting the valley. These massive structures go on for miles, harnessing the near-constant winds that rip through this area.

A word of caution if you ever visit: those turbines aren’t just for show. The wind here is intense. I forgot this fact and almost lost my car door when the wind tried to yank it clean off its hinges as I stepped out. Luckily, I caught it in time. For anyone under 100 pounds—or small children—stay buckled in unless you’re weighed down by a heavy bag or anchored to a sturdy object.

 

Wind Turbines Palm Springs, CA

Absolutely! The desert does have a captivating beauty, with its vast openness, dramatic landscapes, and those incredible sunsets—but living there is a whole different ballgame. It’s harsh, unforgiving, and relentless with that heat and dryness. Setting up an Airstream as a permanent home in that environment seems… ambitious, to say the least.

Maybe it’s the solitude or the simplicity that appeals to some. Or maybe they’re just drawn to the challenge of thriving in a place that seems determined to make it difficult. Who knows? The desert has a way of attracting unique souls who march to their own beat.

 

Airstream against the mountain. It's that tiny silver spec at the frames bottom.

This is rock falling country, why would anyone camp here?

I usually wouldn’t stop in Palm Springs, but I have a friend here: Gary Dorothy, a phenomenally talented photographer who owns Imageville. All the stunning work on display in his shop is shot and printed by Gary himself. If you ever pass through Palm Springs, drop by Imageville. It’s in the heart of town, surrounded by great bars and cafes. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll probably charge you 15% more! (On second thought, maybe don’t mention me.)

 

Gary Dorothy

Imageville

After saying goodbye to Palm Springs, I made a quick stop in Blythe, CA, for fuel and coffee. My car’s thermometer read 115°F, so I knew it was hot. But stepping outside? Searing heat is the only way to describe it. It’s the kind of heat that cooks you instantly, the kind that explains the blistered paint jobs on so many cars out here. This land doesn’t favor human beings—or much else.

 

115 Degrees F

Blistering paint

Continuing along Hwy 60, I was thrilled to stumble upon an abundance of ghost buildings and even an old pioneer cemetery on a road aptly named Ghost Town Road. There's something hauntingly beautiful about places like these—reminders of life that once thrived here, now claimed by time and the desert.

 

Ghost building

Where did all the people go?

Just had to find out what lay up this road

Wonder whatever happened to the horses that once hitched here

Pioneer Cemetery, check their spelling

Pioneer Grave

 

Reaching Prescott involved a slow, winding ascent through the Weaver and Bradshaw Mountains. The road is narrow and twisty, often limited to 25mph, which makes for slow going. Add in the irresistible need to stop for photos, and an hour-long drive easily doubles.

Prescott is a place where you’re quickly reminded that this is gun-packing country.

While checking into my motel, I found myself behind a sight I’ll not soon forget: a 5'2" bald guy wearing a “wife-beater” tank top, camouflage shorts, and flip-flops. Not so unusual for these parts—until I noticed the Glock 9mm strapped to his waist, complete with two spare clips. He was armed to the teeth, looking like he could take on the apocalypse.

Outside, his wife waited with their dog—a massive, mean-looking Boxer wearing a studded collar. The hound appeared to be gnawing on what might have been the remnants of a small animal. She was wearing a “husband-beater” shirt. The sight gave me second thoughts about asking them for a photo.

I suppose, in this part of the country, American Express’s slogan “Don’t leave home without it” might not just refer to a credit card.

More to come…