Wind Wolves and Desert Rainbows

Home to Bakersfield to Anza-Borrego

I have confused people on this trip by using “we” instead of “I”—it’s just Liesl and me. But with her, I am a “we”. She is my dog, and I am her emotional support animal. “Thirsty” is a 2015 Subaru Crosstrek with only 36k miles on it…for now.

Liesl, Thirsty, and I, about to leave home.

We made it out the door on Wednesday morning. Though I’d imagined the trip as a free-form sort of ramble, I had camping reservations for the first three nights, at two different sites. For the first one, I’d need to be in Bakersfield by 4:30am…which created more clock-watching than I’d hoped for.

I got routed 880 to 101, then Pacheco Pass, and where I’m always tempted by the produce stands. One hand-painted sign declared “Strawberries!”, and I almost stopped. But I was already cutting it close by the clock, so I didn’t.

I should have. A few miles further, traffic came to a near stand-still due to an overturned cabbage truck. There is something almost vintage to the idea of a cabbage truck, with real cabbages strewn over the road. I am more fond of the thought of it now than I was at the time, though.

A principle for the rest of the trip: stop for the strawberries.

Driving down I-5
I don't ever want to die
Cause I'd no more get to see
All this beauty passing by me

Laundry on the line
Truckers passing on the right
Every color on the wind
You know you're living if you've sinned
Down I-5

• case/lang/veirs, Down

I-5 on this day was not really as romantic as all that. And yet the song evokes the very real feeling that many of us are prone to—of feeling somehow most grounded when we are on the move over the landscape.

A note about FitzLab Climate Predictions: I thought it would be interesting during this trip to look at climate prediction for the places I visit. The web site I like the most for this is From the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science—“FitzLab”.

I don’t think the specific modeling used is as important to me as the idea of contemplating what the future could be like at the places I visit.

Wind Wolves Preserve

April 21, 2022

Nearest FitzLab Climate Model city: Bakersfield, CA. “For high emissions, Bakersfield's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Yuma, Arizona. The typical summer in Yuma, Arizona is 8.5°F (4.7°C) warmer and 435.7% wetter than summer in Bakersfield.” That it could be that much wetter surprises me quite a bit. I wonder if that’s a model anomaly.

Wind Wolves Preserve is a hidden gem; for the number of times I’ve been through Bakersfield, I’m a little aghast that I didn’t know anything about this place.

Turning onto the road into the preserve, I knew it would be good simply from the Loggerhead Shrikes I could see from the car. I’d wondered if Wind Wolves was named after some bird of prey, but learned that the origin of the name is much more poetic: the wind in the grasses of the preserve makes it appear as though invisible animals are running through it.

Wind Wolves was a sanctuary for me. The campground is pristine, with little ponds full of life and trees full of birds. The other campers all seemed to be older middle-class white folks, spry older ladies in ball caps and jaunty neckerchiefs. This isn’t an RV campground, so the parking lot is full of other Subarus and some nimble truck campers that I envy.

A walk, a grilled cheese sandwich, and we settled in for the night. As the wind increased, I had second thoughts and put the rainfly on the tent. Setting it up, I noticed foxtails and tried to keep Liesl from snuffling around too much or wandering into them on our walk.

Around midnight, she left her heating pad and snuffled up to me, huffing a couple times. Oh no, I thought, she’s got a foxtail up her nose. She curled up against me under the sleeping bag and I listened to her breathe while I imagined rushing to break camp and find an emergency vet in Bakersfield in the morning. This set off more than an hour of self-doubt…what was I doing? I had no business trying to undertake this trip. I’m a fat out-of-shape old lady who imagines herself more rugged than she actually is. My legs ache, my arms ache, I can’t do this, etc. etc. After far too much of this nonsense, I noticed that Liesl was not in fact doing the foxtail huff-and-snort and managed to get to sleep.

Morning looked better, as it often does. The giant vestibule of the tent is a great place to put the chair, and make and drink coffee, and even work, with one panel open to the view. 

Working from the tent vestibule, sheltered from the wind and with a glorious vista.

The campground overlooks a field, and the long plain toward Bakersfield. A raptor flapped into view, and gave me plenty of time to get my binoculars. It was a Red-tailed hawk, a dark speckle-bellied beauty. It was flapping hard to bring in a large gopher held in its talons. It circled a few times, and I wondered why it was carrying the prey this way, almost as if on display. Then it came nearly overhead and landed in the nearby tree…where mom was waiting on the nest.

Anza-Borrego Desert State Park / Borrego Springs

April 21, 2022

Nearest Fitzlabs City: Indio, CA. “For high emissions, Indio's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Buckeye, Arizona. The typical winter in Buckeye, Arizona is 2.3°F (1.3°C) warmer and 50.4% drier than winter in Indio.”

I’ll spare you the bitching about traffic through the LA area freeways. 

“Hang on St. Christopher with a barrelhouse dog
Kick me up Mt. Baldy, throw me out in the fog
Tear a hole in the jackpot, drive a stake through his heart
Do a hundred on the grapevine, do a jump on the start
Hang on St. Christopher now, don't let me go”

- Tom Waits, Hang on St. Christopher

Once I fought my way past Temecula, though, I finally got some of the experience I’d been craving: gorgeous landscape and little traffic. A long grade down into the Borrego-Springs area gave big views.

The wind was fierce; I already decided to sleep in the car instead of trying to stake out the tent. The trip is still a bit rushed at this point. But tonight is special, and easy on me, because I’ve got an invitation to Marge and Paul’s place for dinner.

Marge and Paul are the kind of people one meets and instantly loves, like Tom and Eunice who introduced me to them at BoomTown in Iowa a few years ago. They live in Borrego Springs and travel during the hot summer months. (When I asked Marge how hot it does get in the summer, her answer (if I remember correctly) was a casual, “Oh…I don’t think I’ve ever seen it over 124 degrees.”

Marge and Paul are fully engaged with the community of this small town, whether that’s the roadrunner family in their yard, or the human social and civic life of Borrego Springs. And they are simply wonderful people to hang out with. Adventuring souls themselves, I am inspired, among other things, by their trip to Mongolia and journey on the Trans-Siberian Railroad.

Borrego Springs is a Dark-Sky City, so the night view from the campground is stunning. I considered, for about a second, just putting the mattress on the ground sheet to sleep out. But I wasn’t that bold. I started to put the hatch tent on the car, but abandoned even that…too windy. Liesl and I cuddled up in the car and were soon asleep.

In the morning, we were surprised by rain. When I stumbled myself out of the car, I was even more surprised.

Sunrise rainbow, Liesl, and Thirsty at Anza-Borrego.

Photos don’t do justice to waking up to rain in the desert. I wondered if there would be a smell to it. I didn’t notice anything at first. Then, maybe a half hour later, I caught an earthy smoky aroma. I don’t know if that was it or not…at the time, I thought maybe it was just a campfire, but now I remember that there was a fire ban. So maybe.

My senses are dulled. There is a growing awareness in me that I feel somewhat bludgeoned—by what, I cannot say; some combination of inner and outer forces, both imaginary and real. I keep trying to resettle into a simple mindfulness. Put things away where they belong. Brush the teeth and floss. Surrender to these little things that make up life. Sometimes it feels enormously more difficult than I think it should. “Go slower.” seems to be the solution for most of it.

We go into town and get breakfast, do some minimal work, then return to our empty campsite (when car sleeping, you have to pack everything up to move around), and went for a simple walk around the campground. I skipped the visitor center and other attractions this time.

What I really want to do is head into town and see the Bargain Barn, where Marge and Paul are volunteering this morning. It’s a thrift store—really a compound of shipping containers and outdoor tables—operated by the American Legion. Today’s excitement is 50% off everything, as they prepare to close for the summer off-season. I say hi to Marge, working at the check-out, and shop around. This is a fantastic thrift store; high-quality stuff, extremely well-organized. My camp gear is in a big plastic tub that really isn’t very functional, and I decide to switch it out for bags instead. I find a great canvas carry-on for all the kitchen stuff, and a lady’s tote that might work for tools. I can’t pass up a straw cowboy hat that fits like it was made for me. 

Back at my car, it turns out that everything fits tidily into the carry-on (I can’t believe my luck), so I take the other bag and the plastic tote back into the Bargain Barn, put the bag back on the rack I took it from so another shopper can buy it again, put the plastic tote near the others in the work area in the back, and keep the cowboy hat on.

Liesl is good, and once she’s comfortable I can set her down where she is more entertaining to all passersby. She immediately gets too many treats, especially from Paul who jokes that he’ll have her crapping all over my car, as we sit at the entrance to the Bargain Barn and shoot the shit with anyone passing by. I really love the feel of this community. Liesl also gets a stuffed animal toy so she can demonstrate her “shake that rat” trick. She really perks up by being the star of the show, and I’m grateful to see her having fun. I want to give her more of that; it’s good for both of us. She travels well, but I can tell she gets weary of the car riding.

Marge arranged for me to do bubbles for lunchtime recess at the elementary school in town, so when it’s time, she leaves her post at the checkout counter and takes me over there. Despite the gale, it’s one of the most memorable and fun bubbling experiences I’ve had. Kids usually shriek with joy when they first see the bubbles, but once they know what’s coming, these kids shriek just to see the wicks dip into the bubble juice. I’ve never had so many kids thank me for doing bubbles for them.

I am tempted to try to stay another night here, but I’m also mindful that there is only so much time I can stay in any one place on this leg of my journey.

I have some more to catch up on; I’m in New Mexico now and settling into the rhythms of the trip and trying to teach myself to write again. More to come.