Slab City

In our search for places to boondock on this trip eastward, we encountered Slab City. Boondocking is the art of finding a strategic free camping site where your presence will not bother the neighbors or attract attention. This is not always an easy task when few places are both legal and free to camp, or when you drive a big red bus. Slab City is near the Salton Sea in the California desert, hidden behind a rundown town on an old military base where only concrete slabs from the buildings remain. The entrance, an old checkpoint booth, boldly states “slab city, the last free place”.

Past the booth is the largest piece of folk art we have ever seen, Salvation Mountain. It’s a shrine to Jesus Christ and to Love. “Jesus I’m a sinner please come upon my soul and into my heart” is painted on the side of a handcrafted adobe hillside, next to a scene that depicts among other things a waterfall and a yellow brick road which leads to an enormous cross at the top of the hill. This was all crafted by a now 77 year old man, Leonard Knight. Leonard broke down in 1984 and planned to spend only two weeks building the shrine. Twenty five years later he is still going strong and giving tours to over 100 visitors daily. He showed us the adobe cave he built to live in and the adobe balloon he still works on. The balloon interior towers above at over two stories. Old automotive glass windows allow the light to penetrate into the interior, illuminating artificial trees. The trees are made from old tires filled with sticks and covered with painted adobe, just like the rest of the interior. “Currently the bill is in the Senate to have this dedicated as a national treasure”, he gleams with pride. Not in a cocky way, more out of contentment for what he has accomplished out of love for humankind and Jesus.

Two young men were standing around offering help to the elderly gentleman as he spryly scooted around. We started talking and they commented on our bus, which is always open for tours. “You gave us a tour, now it’s our turn”, Justin said with glee. As it turns out these two clean cut young men were best friends from Boston, recent graduates who couldn’t find any work in these hard times. They packed what they needed and drove out west to the Slabs, having heard about it from the movie “Into the Wild”. They had spent the past several months helping the old man at times and enjoying free life within the community. They gave us a few pointers and a general idea of what things were like: most of the slabs were accounted for, but there was plenty of space to stay on, and no time limit. The talent shows on Saturday were the highlight, but we would be long gone somewhere in Arizona. “Sometimes valley girls from LA come out here to get the whole experience, like from the movie. They only last five minutes and then go home”. They told us about the natural hot spring, so we got our towels and suits and walked down the road. Military vehicles whizzed past us blowing sand in our faces. Apparently the loud booms we had been hearing were coming from a bomb test site out in the desert. At the hot spring we encountered other bathers, older men in their fifties washing themselves with shampoo. It was gross to imagine swimming in used shampoo, but one guy told us the spring pumped 7,000 gallons an hour, so we decided to go in. All three men had been living at the Slabs for several months out of the radar of the federal government, or so they thought. They seemed like normal folks, just tired of the same day to day life.

On our way back to the bus we discussed the day and decided to see Slab City for ourselves. After crossing the hill we could see a sea of RV’s ranging from old broken-down school buses to hundred thousand dollar motor homes, amidst scattered shrubs and the rare tree for shade. We pulled over at what looked like an information booth, but we found it was the 16th Annual Solar Potluck-- just our luck since we had not eaten since early in the day. We cautiously approached the crowd of 40 people ranging in size, shape and age, and an organizer invited us to eat. It was one of the more eclectic groups we have ever seen. The most surprising of all was that everyone looked clean. The hot spring and outdoor shower must help. After some consideration we decided that it didn’t make sense to just spend one night at the Slabs; it was more a place to spend several days and get to know people and their stories, but we didn’t have the time.

We drove through the edge of the abandoned town north toward the Salton Sea and Joshua Tree National Park. We started ascending a beautiful canyon and noticed people parked off to the side, and it was BLM land. We decided to stop there for the night and hike to the top of one of the hills while we still had an hour of light. Our spot was a good ways from the road and had its own fire pit. We sat around a fire that night for the first time on our trip, enjoying the beautiful glow and smell of burning wood.

San Fransisco

We left Eureka, CA, on a gray day, much like most of our days in the Northwest. We drove through redwood forest along rocky coast toward wine country. The scenery was much like Spanish countryside with its green rolling hills, Eucalyptus trees and vineyards. Our first stop for meeting with kayak outfitters was in Point Reyes, a beautiful piece of countryside surrounded by forest and sloughs, which are like estuaries. The weather started to turn to our favor boasting temperatures in the high 60’s-- a welcome change and what we had been looking forward to. We drove further south to Oakland where we would spend the next week, parked on a quiet, hilly cul-de-sac (gracias, Armando!). Our bus attracted a lot of attention from the locals and we gave several tours of our little home and explained the journey we had started almost two months ago. We spent the next several days exploring the surroundings areas, working around the bus, and Amanda visited several schools in the area that specialize in Somatic Psychology. We made some new friends which we hope to keep in touch with. Armando’s neighbor Stephanie invited us out Friday night and we biked several miles to a late night art walk. Much to our surprise we found ourselves fading at about 9 o’clock; we had forgotten about the time change. At the moment time had slipped to the wayside, freeing us from much of what confines us to our daily routine. We work when we can and play just as often. Amanda had a mini Rice University reunion with Jeff, Rene and Leif in San Francisco. I spent one Saturday with a friend from a semester in Spain. It was great to see her again, a much overdue visit. The night before our departure south I went on a beautiful full moon kayak in the bay with folks from California Canoe and Kayak, a premier outfitter and guide service. Needless to say I brought the paddle along which got a good review. That same evening a dear friend from high school called to have dinner, a pleasant surprise since both of us were leaving for extended trips in the morning.

The following day we awoke early and continued our journey south to LA, where we plan to have our winter stay and replenish our bank accounts. The journey has brought us through some of the most breathtaking landscapes we have seen on the West coast. Elkhorn Slough in Moss Landing was one of these places. We spent the night on the water, falling asleep to the barking of seals and the ocean surf. In the morning we took our kayaks off the bus for a morning paddle. Let me describe the procedure of removing a 16 foot boat from atop a 10 foot high roof rack. This involves two people, one on the roof and the other on the ground. The person on the ground catches the boat as it slides delicately off the back, becoming almost vertical. The one on the roof then lowers the 50 pound boat over the edge with a rope. While this may seem a simple task there are certain risks such as crushing a $3,000 boat, slipping off the edge of the slanted roof or dropping the boat on someone’s head. The paddle was full of sea life such as sea otters, seals, loons, pelicans and the standard seagull. The seals follow the boats and playfully dance in the water beside you, sometimes for miles. The sea otters bob their head out of the water like the whack-a-mole game at Chuck E. Cheese. Watching them play chase and wrestle in the water, as well as watching one momma sea otter cross the river on her back with her furry baby asleep on her belly, was one of Amanda’s favorite things.

The journey to Monterey was my biggy on the notorious Route 1, but south for the next sixty miles we would be in for a surprise. The road has many treacherous curves and with steep cliffs on either side. Signs warn of landslides and fires every few hundred yards. The guard rail would be nothing more than a speed bump if we lost control. White knuckled I drove 15 miles an hour for the next sixty miles. That didn't stop from us enjoying the beauty of the landscapes and the breath taking contours of the shoreline. I puttered along at my slow pace, yet even if I had wanted to drive faster it would have been futile because the road was so winding that our bus would have had a hard time staying on the road. I could just imagine how thrilled the traffic behind us must have been, yet none of them beeped or gave us the finger. Every so often I would stop to look at the GPS. "I can't believe we have only been seventy miles, at least we only have thirty to go." Well after dark we managed to pull over and find safe parking. Only eighty five miles from where we had started that morning.