Thursday, March 6th, 2025, 0600-1420
Budweiser Spring to Amboy\Roy’s Motel and Cafe, mm 105, End Section 7, elevation 636′.
22 miles.
It rained a fair amount overnight but it was mostly pretty light, the kind of rain that makes a nice sound on a tent but doesn’t cause concern for flooding. I checked my tent a few times just to be sure, but it was bone dry inside. I picked a good spot and made a good pitch. I loved hearing the rain all night and woke feeling so refreshed. It stopped a few hours before dawn, so it was perfect!
The desert loved the rain, too. Everything already looked more green and perky. I even found a few potholes with small pools of water. Animals could use these sources for several days. I walked down the big wash, away from the Granite Mountains, and back into the volcanic features of the Old Dad range.
I still had a full day of hiking to get into “town” but was determined to make it early. I devised another shortcut by cutting a corner. The route went out of the way towards a guzzler, but I didn’t need water. I loved using my knowledge of topography and the easy open landscape to orient my own way. It was part of the fun of a route…it was just a suggestion and navigators were free to follow or choose their own adventure.
My shortcut saved me perhaps a mile. The Old Dad mountains were also short lived. I went over a series of passes and down\up the respective washes. One wash was quite long and named Orange Blossom. It brought me under I-40, my last interaction with an interstate on the route. Thank goodness…they are obnoxiously noisy. The noises of modern society are shockingly abrasive after I’ve been in the wilderness for even a day. We get used to this noise pollution “IRL” but no wonder so many of us are suffering from anxiety and depression. We aren’t meant to live like we do, our animal brains aren’t developed to handle all the stimulation. The more time I spend outside, the more I know it’s the only reality that makes any sense. What to do? Become a hermit in Alaska?
The next range, the Bristol mountains, had lots of mine relics and I went out of my way to avoid an active claim, the Orange Blossom Mine. No one was home but the area was said to have some weird goings-on. Later, I had another decision to make: follow a steep bighorn sheep trail down out of the mountains or take a longer detour following old mining roads. I chose the sheep trail and man was it sketchy! It followed a knife-edge ridgeline and there were a few spots when I had to butt-scoot because I felt too unsteady to remain standing. The hillside was so chossy and gravelly, by far my least favorite surface. But I made it down easily enough, pleased with my bighorn abilities.
From the top of this range to Amboy, I dropped over 2,000 feet. In total this day, I lost 3k of elevation. It didn’t feel like that much, but the drop from the Bristol mountains sure was noticeable. I took a break to rest my wobbly legs at Millers spring and mining cabin. The spring had long been developed into a pipe and tank, which was surprisingly overspilling with water. I grabbed 2 liters since I only had about 10 miles to go. I might not have grabbed any, had it not been for the fact that the gas station had no running water. There was water for purchase, however.
Turns out, it was a good thing I carried the water, not for me but what I found next. I followed the old mining road down to a junction where there was an ancient mailbox, back from the times when the post office used to drive all the way from Amboy to deliver the mail to this one mining cabin. Amazing huh? Just past this, I saw what looked like a car in the distance. But what would a car be doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?
As I approached, I saw that the doors were ajar and 2 people were standing at the side, staring back at me. Many things went through my head, paranoia over whether this was some sort of set-up to rob or kidnap me. But then reason reminded me that this would be the dumbest place to pull off a crime, since someone like me was only likely to come along a couple times in a year. Then I realized that they must be scared of a random person walking out of the desert, and that person was me.
I approached, since it became blatantly obvious that the car was fatally stuck in the middle of the ‘road’ I needed to walk down. There was a woman and an older man. They explained that Google maps had guided them onto this four-wheel drive road due to a road closure of 66. Reroute! That’s the trouble with trusting AI’s!
First they had driven all the way up to the mining cabin, which they described in perfect detail (only reason I believed them), then they had come back down to the junction to continue on towards Amboy. I couldn’t even fathom how they’d made it this far or up to the mining cabin. Their car was a Honda Accord, which was very much not a 4WD or even AWD. It was so high centered and stuck in the wash/road that it was going to take a heavy winch or crane to get it out. They’d been stuck since the day before and had called for a tow, but unsurprisingly, there were no tow trucks in the area capable of handling such a difficult task.
They had no water, the car battery was dead and they were out of gas. All they had were a few snacks. The woman’s phone battery was about to die too. She said her husband had just walked off, following the road back the way they had come to go get help. By my estimation, it was about 6 miles back to the highway, which was in a direction away from Amboy. But it was another 7 miles along the rugged road leading directly to Amboy, which I knew precisely, since it was my route. The husband had no water and his cell phone was dead. But he had a gas container, which was funny to me, as if some gas would get them unstuck from their situation. Their front bumper was partially broken off and stuck into the ground! They’d employed jacks and various other implements to no avail. They’d obviously been trying everything to get unstuck for awhile. Too bad they simply hadn’t tried turning around when the going started getting rough. But I guess we’re all going to believe in Google and other corporations until the very end. Game Over.
I told them what they really needed to do was call 911. I didn’t have cell service (even in Amboy), otherwise I would have done it myself. They mentioned several things like not having car insurance or maybe even a driver’s license, so I could see why they were reluctant to notify the authorities of their situation. But they really needed a rescue right away, or they were going to die in the desert. I gave them all the water I had, plus some snacks. I also let the woman charge her phone with my spare battery for a bit. I didn’t have much left of any of these necessities, since I was on the 5th day since my last resupply. But at least I had some water to give them, which is always the most crucial thing in the desert. What irony, after I struggled so much with water on this journey, that I would have a surplus to give to others in need.
I took down their GPS location, names, and promised I would call 911 as soon as I got to Amboy. I guess I could have pressed the SOS on my Zoleo but I didn’t want my emergency contacts thinking I was having an emergency. I began the long walk, but kept a fast pace. The old road was so rough and rocky, even trying to walk it was a chore. But I made it to the gas station in just 2 hours.
The employees were changing shifts, so I waited a few minutes. Then Miss Nicole used her store phone to make a call to the non-emergency line in 29 Palms… that’s right, the nearest police station was 50 miles away! They took all my information and that was it. We didn’t hear back from them all day so we made a follow-up call around 5 pm. They said an officer was on the scene and that was it, that was all the more I ever heard about the situation. I hope all 3 people were ok. As for the car, who knows, maybe it’s still out there. The next DWTH to come by can report back. Maybe Brett will have to make it a permanent part of his notes.
As for the rest of my day, I hung out at the story, doing some light chores and watching people come and go. The store was kind to store a resupply package for me inside and I stashed a gallon of water in a junk pile nearby. I used some of this water to do ziplock bag laundry, since I was finding it crucial to periodically attempt to rehab my crusty socks. It made a little bit of a difference, so was worth it. Here I was, swooshing my filthy nasty socks in a Ziploc while a film crew was flying a drone around, taking shots of a red convertible in front of the famous route 66 markers and Roy’s sign. Meanwhile, a couple of people were perhaps dying in the desert or getting rescued, who knows? It was all very surreal.
Just before sunset, I went back out into the desert to find a place to pitch my tent for the night. Miss Nicole had pointed to some buildings on the other side of the road, saying I could pitch near them, but they gave me a creepy feeling. Turns out my instinct about this was right. I also noticed a very creepy guy wondering around, carrying bull whip. I mean, who wouldn’t find that weird? So I waited until he was distracted talking to the film crew before I disappeared down the road and popped off into a wash.
I pitched right up against the wash wall, out of sight of anything, trying to get some protection from the wind. It mostly worked. Then I walked back to the store in the dark, hanging out inside for a few more hours, relishing the warmth and electricity. Miss Nicole was so kind and warm. I watched her interacting politely with the many visitors, which even included a tour group from Italy. Earlier in the day, I also talked to a lovely Thai couple, who were very intrigued with my journey. Roy’s is a very interesting and special place, bringing people from all over the world to see this little eclectic and eccentric piece of history. It’s been in various movie scenes and has a long story. Just another random part of desert lore! And I felt very much a part of things this day, even if I only wanted to be a visitor.
Zena, the adorable store doggo.
I stayed until closing, eating junk food from the store. I then thanked Miss Nicole for her hospitality and wished her well in her long drive back to 29 Palms. I worried a little for her safety, operating the store all by herself in such a remote place. What if someone tried to rob her or the store? The police, as I’d already found out, were so far away. Then again, everyone worried for my safety but I had thus been able to take care of myself, thank you very much. I’m sure Nicole felt the same way.
As I was leaving, I glanced around for anyone nearby. I didn’t’ see the creepy bull whip guy, but left my headlamp off as I walked into the night, just in case. Once I was sufficiently up the wash, I turned my red lamp on, found my tent among the creosote, and went to bed.