Calico Ghost Town – California

Calico Ghost Town – California

Well I made it to the golden state – California, and it’s hot, dry, and desert like, just like a lot of what I saw in Arizona. But now it’s called the Mojave National Preserve. And stopping alongside it at the rest stop on I-40 takes a driver out of an air conditioned stupor in a hurry. So does the price of gas, it’s up a buck a gallon once we crossed over the river from Arizona

While getting gas the mechanic came out and looked at my tires and said that one tire was nearly bald on the outside rim, and he would change it using the spare tire. Uh oh, I thought. Sure enough he cheerfully said the other rear tire was also in tough shape and before going further into the desert I should have new tires. Ok, whatever, it’s only money. I wasn’t sure if new tires were absolutely necessary at that moment or not, but all along I have been afraid of having a tire blow out on the freeway and I knew I would feel better if they were new tires.

So that took some time as I had him check the trailer tire and lug nuts too. All was in order and I reached Barstow, stopping in at McDonald’s at the Barstow Station and planning on using the internet to located a campsite, but no luck, they don’t have w-fi there. So I set it up in the steaming hot parking lot and read the reviews for local RV parks. None looked good and so I decided to head 11 miles north to the County park – the Calico Ghost Town. It was worth the drive and I was so glad to have found it.

Within ten seconds of arriving I was invited for cocktails but I could hardly wait to get out hiking so I found a site at the top of the hill where there was no power or water and thought that it would be a lot cheaper. I had heard that full service sites were $35.00 per night and I didn’t want to pay that much. The hills above were perfect for easy climbing, and we went up for a good half hour. Near the top, I thought I heard a drum. Then I realized how fast the sun was setting, and that I really didn’t know this area at all. So I headed back down as fast as I could go and still not run the chance of tripping or sliding.

Once down, the ranger found me for the camping fee - $30.00! I was shocked and told him that was too much to park on gravel. He told me not to shoot the messenger so I restrained myself and paid.

I lit a campfire, and it turned out to be a magical night – a deep profound silence in the hills where I was camped. A sliver of a moon, and the bowl’s walls framed the stars.