December 14, 2001
We left Pio Pico (out of Chula Vista) on Sunday the 9th, heading to "Slab City," via hwy 94, I-8, and hwy 111.
The change in terrain was quick and obvious. We'd entered the Mojave desert of southern California. Mexico was just over our right shoulder (border patrol vehicles everywhere) until we went north on hwy 111, and then it was still in view in the mirrors. At least the mountains were. There isn't a tree any bigger than Barb anywhere around us.
Didn't take us long to mingle with the locals. There are probably 4 or
5 distinct groups of people here at the
"Slabs." I loosely refer to them as
the "locals," the ones who winter out here or live here year-round. Off the grid,
basic subsistence living. Tight friendly
helpful community of folks, but not prone to shopping at Nordstrom's or sipping
latte's at Starbucks. Easily spotted by the blue (usually) water tanks
they use to haul water from town in their trucks. Except for the fellow
who's rigged his tank on a bracket on the top of his ancient VW bug.
Another distinct group are the LOW's, Loners On Wheels. These are the single people who belong to a large RV club, and travel around to various parts of the country, some full-timers, some part-timers. All friendly. All economic levels, none caring about that part of their lives, only trying to make each other feel welcome. They have a "real" clubhouse made up of several trailers, canvas shelter, all on a big slab with lots of obvious signs. Coffee is on at 5:30 AM, greetings are hugs, and everybody is welcome to visit, married or single, member of the club or not. Club members enjoy having one person responsible for going into town to get the mail and putting it in the mail slots in the local "post office" for pickup by the members. Dancing on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Shuffleboard on the slab, card playing, bean-bag tossing, and visiting being the order of the day. We can see them walking past our trailer on their way to coffee in the morning, many carrying big mugs that are obviously empty.
Another group is devoted to RV Singles who are not part of the LOW club. Another group is called "Traveling Pals" and I don't have a clue as to their makeup, nor do I know anything about the WIN group or Rainbow RV'ers. These latter two seem to be gathered away from the main body of RV's. The last "group" are people like Barb and I. We're interlopers. We don't really "belong" here, we're just passing through. At least this year. Our types are scattered around the place, wander in and out of other groups, listen to the "Mayor of Slab City," Linda, as she gives her 6 p.m. report on Channel 23 on the CB radio. Her report starts with what's on TV on which channel at what time, followed by announcements like the auction (which is what the two pictures above are--I bought a dish of fudge which was excellent, and Barb bought a plate of cookies which were just as good; proceeds fund the children's Christmas party), what time church services and other Christian activities are taking place at the Christian Center (a trailer painted blue with white lettering), what's for sale, and who is looking to buy what. The report lasts for about 1/2 hour, and people will interrupt to thank her for advertising their products or ask for clarification. Most of the information is pertinent for the locals, but as you can see, all are welcome anywhere.
Just for your info, here are some CB "handles" (names) we heard: Sidewinder, Rooster, Sun Man (the solar power guy), Happy Hooker, Outlaw, Handyman, Big Blond, Sundance, Fatboy, Weed, Cowboy, Coffee Cup, etc.
On the left in the distance is Salvation Mountain, but more on that later. On the right are what appeared to be tanks. Perhaps a sewage treatment plant from the way they were laid out. Evidence of a long-ago military presence is still all over the place (the Marines abandoned it in 1946 as we understand it). The name "Slab City" is derived from the cement slabs remaining from the Marine base buildings that were torn down long ago. This is free parking for anyone as nobody owns the place. The Federal government tried to give it to California, but California really didn't want it; thus, its abandonment. When you drive in, you just pick a place to park in the wide open spaces. Fortunately, it is almost all quite level which is good for RVs, and friendly neighbors all around.
On the left we've ridden the DiBlasi mini-bikes up the back side of Salvation Mountain so I could peek over the edge to see what it's like up closer, and of course the sign by the road. In the picture on the left toward the back is a truck with its bed built up into a camper of sorts. It's one of two trucks we see there; close-up shots coming. What a place for dune buggies (and there are lots of them) and mini-bikes like ours to explore!
More of the place from the highway. I was reluctant to just ride on in and say "Howdy" for fear of what I might find. Irrational of me to feel that way, but it kept me out anyway. On the right is one of the two trucks I mentioned above, but more truck shots are coming.
And when the wind blows in the Slabs (which it does frequently), it kicks up all kinds of dirt and sand. It's kinda like low clouds racing across the dry surface in shifts, starts & stops with wind gusts. Grit gets everywhere! I mean inside the trailer as well as out! The shot was taken out our dining room window. The crowing beauty, though, is before the sunrise, when the orange glow begins to cast its shadow over the flat desert expanse; I was amazed at the depth of the almost tangerine color it cast over the entire horizon. Absolutely glorious! What can you do but just witness it and praise God for His beautiful creation. And on the right is Barb investigating the salt/sand around the Salton Sea.
A "grain" of sand/salt and one of many dead fish lying around. Smelly place without the wind blowing.
Some people say the level of the sea is lowering and that in 10 years it won't be here at all. Couldn't tell by us. It's 277 feet below sea level and 10% saltier than the pacific ocean. According to the information boards anyway. Western grebes, buffleheads, and coots make up the population of this narrow canal leading to the sea from the boat launching ramp. Barb is standing on one of the piers at the marina, and the water was shallow there alright, but from the looks of the pilings, it hasn't dropped very much since they were built.
The wind blew while we were out sightseeing, and the sand on the mat made interesting patterns. And even if you have trouble seeing her, Barb is standing between Moby Dick and the Road Abode. We park the truck like that to make it easier to plug into the generator. The ground is flatter and smoother than the badly rutted and potholed roads of this place.
For those interested, the heavy cord leading to the back of the truck is the power cord, and the little one leads to the remote panel in the trailer that good friend Marc helped install in Jackson, CA, so we can run the generator from inside the trailer and monitor its condition--oil pressure, water temperature, voltage, and hour meters. And then since the wind wasn't blowing too hard and the sun wasn't too hot, Barby climbed up on the roof to take a couple of shots of our surroundings. Hard to believe there are that many people willing to live off the grid (meaning they have no electricity other than what they make themselves, and they haul fresh water in and used water out).
Ah, yes. More of the "crowd" and then me in the "shower". God bless my little wifey. Some 300 or 400 yards upstream of that water coming out of the hole behind me is a hot spring. Really hot, about 94 or so at the source, but a cool 75 or so at this point, according to a local, Leonard. You'll see Leonard and learn more about him later. Anyway, I'm standing in about 4" of water, it drains right out into the irrigation ditch across the dirt road behind where Barb was standing when she "exposed" me.
The system works like this. If you see a car/truck/bicycle parked like we are, you just hang around until you see someone come back over the levy using those tires as stairs. And then the other side going down to the "shower".
AHA!! Revenge!! Now, shortly after I took this picture, I noticed a fellow park his bicycle, so being the gentleman that I am, I went over to talk to him....and to let him know the shower was occupied. Only after talking with him for a few minutes, here came a big semi-truck down the dirt road! Now ordinary vehicles cannot see over the berm to where the shower place is, but semi-trucks, that's a different story! I excused myself, and hurried over to let Barb know a "big" truck was coming. And there she was, standing up drying herself. She hunkered down best she could, covered herself with the towel as best she could, and waved back at the driver who had waved at her. Big grins all around, and we're still chuckling about it. Remember Salvation Mountain? On the way home after the shower we saw the other truck parked by the edge of the road and nobody in sight. We had to take a picture of it, and as soon as I snapped it and started to drive away, here came somebody.
The fellow in the yellow sweater is Leonard Knight. The builder and maintainer of Salvation Mountain. As nice a gent as you'd like to meet. We were absolutely blown away by all the detail work he'd put into this truck. Now this isn't the truck in the earlier pictures of the mountain, this is the one he drives! The other one is retired. He uses window putty for the artwork, and then paints it. It sticks to rubber (witness the tires) as well as wood, steel, or anything else. The fellow with the black and white checked shirt is Lou, who had stopped by to see if we needed any help, and he took the picture of the three of us. He'd seen the Escapees decal in our window and since he's an Escapee (membershipstuff) as well, he "had" to stop to help. He lives in the big old blue bus at the corner of LOW road and Tank road, he told us. We found it later. These road signs are hand painted, and may or may not be in place at all intersections.
No spot on that old truck had gone un-adorned (note the flowers on the mirror). Pretty artsy stuff. Leonard has been interviewed innumerable times, and proudly showed us a German magazine where he'd been featured. Someone had sent it to him, and while it was written in German, the pictures of him and his creation were good. He gave us a handful of post cards with Salvation Mountain on them, and told us that he'd had two school buses of kids come through the place already today. He'd been soaking in the "spa," (the hot spring, source of the "shower") which was why his truck was parked by the edge of the road. The spa is about 100 yards off the road hidden by some scrub brush (which offers more privacy that the "pit"). And the picture on the right is of the Vulcan plant. A thermo electrical plant owned by California Energy Corp. They drill down into the hot water, turn the turbines with the steam generated, and make electricity. This plant is a 30 Megawatt plant. We were walking the nature trail when I took this picture.
Nobody seemed excited about the grass fire, and later we learned there was lots of agricultural burning in this area. We were on the Rock Hill Trail as you can see. Bird watching, bunny watching, and whatever else watching.
The levees make for separation between salt and fresh water, with huge pumps moving the fresh to the salt when the irrigation of the fields is finished. Great place for migratory birds, and we saw lots of them! On the right is our trailer. Well, at least using our binoculars we could see the area where the trailer is parked. We're on top of Rock Hill (aptly named, by the way) and the water we're looking over is the Salton Sea. Those white flashes are white pelicans flying across, and those are the chocolate mountains in the background. Where the bombing range bombs fall and rattle our windows and make up jump like we'd been shot.
On the left, Barb is looking at the area where the little canal leading from the boat ramp into the sea is, the white pelicans are still flying across, and the wind is blowing again. On the right, he's saying "I'm not here. You can't see me. I'm holding very, very still and I'm invisible". Only after I'd taken one more step toward him, he said, "I'm outta here! You don't play fair!" and flashing his little white rump and tail, he was off into the bushes.