DESERT STORMING
The underappreciated drive from L.A. to Phoenix
BY COREY LEVITAN
"There really isn't anything to see there," said the man at the AAA desk. "It's just desert."
He plopped two guide books in front of me -- one of Southern California and Las Vegas, one of Arizona and New Mexico and wished me luck.
I was in Phoenix, having raced there to spend the holidays with my sister's family. And, despite how treacherous it looks from an airplane window, it wasn't a bad little drive -- at least in April. The temperature was a comfortable 85, which was also the speed most cars traveled. (The posted speed limit for most of the 400 miles is 75 mph, and radar enforcement is by aircraft.)
Between driving to the airport and parking, the now two-hour thumb twiddle at LAX, the hour-plus flight and the wait for your luggage and rental car, you've exhausted nearly the same time it took me to drive to Phoenix: five hours, 45 minutes. And you're paying between $100-$500 more for it (depending on how long you rent a car). Plus, you can't pack half as much crap.
But I was determined to prove that driving to Phoenix was more than a pragmatic decision. It was also an aesthetic one. That's what brought me to the Arizona AAA before my return trip.
"Just desert?" What a snob that AAA guy was! But I'm glad he knew of no points of interest. That means that most of what I found isn't on tourist maps...
(Note: Attractions are listed in reverse order, assuming a drive from L.A. to Phoenix.)
DESERT DINOS
50900 Seminole Drive
Cabazon, Calif.
The concrete dinosaurs from "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure" are no soundstage movie props. They loom over the north side of the 10, for real.
You can't climb up to the T-Rex's mouth, sit on its tongue and peer out through its teeth like Pee-Wee did. That was a soundstage. But you needn't be emulating things Pee-Wee did anyway.
The dinos were built by local restaurateur Claude Bell just after the Depression, which is apparently when spending $300,000 irresponsibly was OK again. They called attention to Bell's Wheel Inn (also in Pee-Wee's movie), which still operates. But the dinos are now nearly obscured from the freeway by a Burger King.
There's a gift shop built into the brontosaur's belly. (Don't ask which part the fire escape exits you out of.) But Bell died before completing the T-Rex, which was supposed to sport a slide down its tail, and starting a planned wooly mammoth.
Nearby is Hadley's, famous for its date shakes and trail mix (which was invented there).
SAN ANDREAS FAULT
Old Hwy 60
Whitewater, Calif.
Why doesn't anyone seem to know exactly where the San Andreas fault is? A U.S. geological survey map claims our biggest communal likelihood of death crosses the 10 just east of Indio.
The Palm Springs-based Desert Adventures tour group swears it's way west of that, at the intersection of the 15 Freeway. And the only thing most Angelenos know about the fault is that they saw it gobble up Lois Lane in the first "Superman" movie.
Fortunately, Tim Moreland of Palm Springs-based Jurassic Expeditions set me straight. The San Andreas fault crosses under the 10 at an exit called Whitewater.
You can't make out a huge jagged crack, since the last time it moved was more than 150 years ago. But you can see the difference between the rocky pass that contains it and the mountains it zips between (mountains that it created).
In fact, the 10 needs to cross a bridge to get over the fault, underneath which the Whitewater Rock Company still mines the gold brought up from the earth's depths. That's right, the 10 passes directly over the San Andreas fault on a bridge. (So much for your plans to drive screaming back east following the Big One.)
If you want Jim to take you around himself, call 760-862-5540.
GENERAL PATTON MUSEUM
62510 Chiriaco Road
Chiriaco, Calif.
760-227-3483
No, Saddam isn't being ferreted out of his secret winter home 50 miles east of Palm Springs. Those tanks dotting the Mojave plain date back to WW II, and mark the site of the George Patton Museum.
The general trained nearly a million troops on 6.7 acres here, on what was then Camp Young, for 1942's desert battle against the Axis nations in North Africa.
Your major battle here will be not visiting the overpriced gift shop.
CALIFORNIA'S LARGEST INLAND BODY OF WATER
Salton Sea Recreation Area
86 South
Salton City, Calif.
The Salton Sea was formed between 1905 and 1907, when the Colorado River burst through poorly built irrigation controls south of Yuma, Ariz. Almost the entire flow of the river filled the ancient Salton lake basin, inundating communities, farms and the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.
By the time the flow was stemmed, the sea was 40 miles long and 13 miles wide.
Because evaporation has driven salinity levels above those of the ocean, all kinds of havoc is being wreaked with the wildlife. Since 1996, thousands of birds have died here (at one time 640 a day) from what is believed to be botulism.
Still, over 150,000 people visit the recreation area each year to water-ski, fish, hike and watch the birds that don't end up dead (up to 450,000 ducks and 30,000 snow and Ross geese each winter).
But I can't recommend trying to shave 10 miles off your trip by cutting through the dirt roads of local farms as soon as you spot water. If you pick the farm I did, insects will soon zing across your vision field. Then you'll see the white boxes they're flying out from -- row after row of them. And you'll realize these are bees, possibly Africanized.
The realization that you're on a honey farm will be even more frightening if you're in a convertible with the top down. Especially if the convertible is yellow. (Somehow, I made it out without a sting, driving back through bee crossfire like the soldiers in the opening 20 minutes of "Saving Private Ryan.")
CHUCKAWALLA VALLEY STATE PRISON
Chuckawalla Valley, Calif.
You know you're approaching the exit for Chuckawalla Valley State Prison because of the sign: "Do not pick up hitchhikers."
Especially if there are 12 of them walking closely together. Joined by a chain.
Nothing spells confidence in a prison's security system like a sign outside warning motorists not to pick up escapees.
Naturally, I had to check it out. The prison is about 5 miles south of the 10, down a narrow road dead-ending into a guard post and some big signs. One of them reads "Do not take pictures."
It would have made a lovely picture, but my nerves shook the camera blurry. Oh well, at least this photo came out...
"What exactly are you photographing?" asked the guard at the gate, who seemed to be sizing up my body for his friends on the inside.
What good adventure doesn't involve being swarmed by killer bees AND nearly raped in prison?
COLORADO RIVER
Blythe, Calif.
Blythe -- the last town before the Arizona border -- is where the 10 crosses the Colorado River, from which we "borrow" most of our water. (When are we paying that back again?)
The best viewing spot is 20 miles southeast of town at a place called McIntyre Park. Don't ask me how to get there -- and especially don't ask the receptionist at the Hampton Inn, who got me completely lost.
Also in Blythe is the Palo Verde Historical Museum, featuring examples of early farm and mining equipment and a barbed wire collection thought to be the most extensive in the whole country.
OK, fine. Forget Blythe.
WORLD'S BIGGEST CACTUS
Dome Rock Road
Quartzsite, Ariz.
"What's there to see in this town?" I asked Beth and Pat, keepers of the general store in Quartzsite, 250 miles from L.A. and 128 from Phoenix.
If this were January, I could have caught the annual Gemboree, billed as the largest gathering place of gem vendors in the Southwest. But it wasn't.
"Well, you can visit the Tyson's Well Stagecoach Station Museum or Hardie's Bead Museum," said Beth.
"You're forgetting the best thing!" Pat corrected Beth. "We've got the biggest cactus in the world right here!" She showed me a blurb in the Quartzsite Almanac (after selling it to me), then drew a map.
"Mike at the Love's truck stop blocked the road off for a while with his rig and I don't know if you can still get through," she warned. I decided that it's too monumental a find not to risk the side trip.
Following Beth's directions, I exited the 10 at Dome Rock Road, which is labeled "not a through street." For 15 minutes I regularly checked my levels -- oil, temperature, sanity -- and wondered how many strangers followed Pat and Beth's directions only to wake up strapped into Mike's rig.
When I got there, I noticed the sign. It didn't say "world's biggest cactus" but "giant 47 arm cactus."
It's not the biggest cactus in the world, I discovered after hitting the Internet when I got home. That title belongs to a 63-footer in Baja California. This was merely a really tall Saguaro with a lot of arms.
Unfortunately, there is no official record of most arms possessed by a cactus. And even if there were, a few of the arms seem to have fallen off this one since the count was taken. (In addition to not being the world's biggest cactus, it also wasn't the world's healthiest.)
But hey, there's no admission charge. And you don't have to drive to Cawker City, Kansas, like you do to see what cannot be independently verified as the world's largest ball of string.
FELLOWSHIP BAPTIST CHURCH
Exit 45
Vicksburg, Ariz.
The rugged Eagle Tail and Harquhahala mountain ranges converge about an hour west of Phoenix, just before the painted desert starts losing its grip to Subways, Auto Zones and condo complexes.
In this quaint town, 10 miles north of Exit 45, I arrived at a roadside church too late for the Sunday morning gospel singing, but in time to hear exiting parishioners describe what their city is most famous for.
"Miss Arizona came from around here," says Elizabeth Jenkins, a friendly senior visiting family in nearby Brenda.
Actually, Leann Hendrix is from La Paz county, not specifically from Vicksburg. And she hasn't been Miss Arizona since 1998.
But I'll give it to them. They're good people here in Vicksburg.
BEEF JERKY
Arizona Jack's
Miller Road
Buckeye, Ariz.
Another friendly lady named Gretchen actually works year-round in this tiny shack off the freeway, selling nothing but 100 pure American beef and buffalo jerky.
Who says there's nothing to see here but desert?
