The lights of LA or How Bandits Held Me Up in the Black Mountains.

Finally, the bright lights of Hollywood are in the distance. 

Eight days, 4,781 miles, 10 gas fill-ups (some partial), six car washes, and countless images—what a journey.

I’ve traveled mile after mile of roads that varied from well-paved highways to dusty, dirt (and often clay) paths. I’ve learned about the addictive allure of the 32oz/79¢ Diet Coke (a dangerous companion) and discovered that McDonald’s offers not only some of the best road coffee but also free Wi-Fi at nearly every location. Oh, and the curious McDonald’s cashiers apologizing for their $1, 32oz-only soft drinks was a cultural quirk I’ll always remember. Despite my best efforts, I kept asking for a medium.

This last leg westward brought me to some fascinating places.

I left Kingman, AZ, heading toward Oatman, nestled high in the Black Mountains—yes, along Route 66. Maps can be deceiving, showing distances that seem manageable in a few hours, but the vast, open desert stretches time in ways you don’t anticipate.

Typical Dirt Road

The desert road was endless—dusty, hot, and captivating. At one point, my car’s temperature gauge read 117°F (47.2C). Stepping out of the car felt like opening an oven door while cooking a holiday turkey—the wave of heat almost knocked me over.

 

Hot, Hot, Hot

Desert Beauty

Arizona's version of our super mailbox

But there’s a silver lining to the heat: slower speeds allowed me to absorb more of the desert’s unique beauty. Free from the clutter of billboards, the landscape was stunning in its simplicity. I stopped countless times, despite the heat, just to soak it all in. It’s also rattlesnake country, and yes, I encountered a few. Dass would love it here!

The climb toward Oatman was steep and winding, with my GPS resembling a bowl of spaghetti—a series of sharp switchbacks, narrow roads, and steep drops with no guardrails. I passed just one establishment, Cool Springs, on the road from Kingman to Oatman, but unfortunately, it was closed.

An Oasis but the door was locked. Sure hope passerbys had their own water.

The Desert Consumer All

 

The GPS and the Mountain Road

 

When I arrived in Oatman, I initially thought it was just another cluster of old, deserted buildings. I was wrong. Rounding the bend, I stumbled onto what can only be described as “Hollywood in the Hills.”

 

Not What I was Expecting

 

Oatman is a full-fledged tourist trap, but in the best way. The buildings are original and well-preserved, and the star attractions are the “town donkeys.” These gentle creatures roam the streets freely, eagerly accepting food from tourists. It’s definitely worth a visit, but be warned—it’s dangerously hot even at 5,568 feet above sea level.

Leaving Oatman, I began the descent toward Topock. Just outside town, I had an unexpected run-in with some “local bandits.”  Even the mountains have their dangers not, just the big cities.  

 

First the Road Block

Then the Approach

Then the Demand

No six-shooters were involved, but these highway robbers—wild donkeys—had a well-organized plan. One would wander into the road to stop cars, while others checked for food. One even stuck its head into my car looking for snacks, while another helped itself to a bag of chips from the SUV ahead of me. It was equal parts hilarious and memorable.   

 

 Topock, is a stark contrast to Oatman, in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of place. Essentially just a bend in the road under a railway underpass, its only real claim to fame is that it marks the Arizona-California state line.

 

Topock

Topock

Crossing into California brought me to the chaos of the LA freeway system during rush hour. Compared to Toronto’s rush hour, this felt like a demolition derby. I’m convinced that turn signals are an optional accessory on California cars, as no one seemed to use them. With one hand on their cell phone and the other gripping a 32oz drink, drivers weaved across three or four lanes of traffic at breakneck speeds. Once I got the hang of it, I’ll admit—it was kind of fun.

I’ll be in LA for the next seven to ten days before starting the drive back. This time, I won’t retrace Route 66 but will instead head through the Bradshaw Mountains to Sedona, then north to Flagstaff, Page, and Monument Valley, before joining I-70 and heading eastward.

Blogging every night has been time-consuming, so don’t be surprised if I post less frequently on the return trip.

This is truly a majestic country, and it’s worth exploring every corner of it.

More to come (maybe)…