Shut down 1950's style gas stations, has-been motels and deserted diners. Rusty old 1930's car wrecks littering the road side and the odd tumble weed blowing across the endless straight desert roads full of bumps and potholes. When we make our way west on Route 66 our imagination takes us back 60 to 70 years ago, to how it used to be in its golden years.

From the Grand Canyon we decided to ride the classic old highway back west. Route 66 has always been on the "to-do-list-before-you-die". Also we though it would be a way to avoid the dull new highways with big trucks and stressful traffic zooming past our slow moving truck-camper. The old road, US Highway 66, is one of the original U.S. highways and was established in the mid 1920's. It was a major path of the migrants who went west, especially during the depressions of the 1930s, when people headed towards California looking for a better life. Driving in our newer Ford, we saw numerous older ones along the roadside; the T-model Fords and other 'classic' wrecks, evidence of the cars and people that never made the journey.

Back in Time

"Tea or coffee?" The waitress with the severe back combed fringe asked us as soon as we sat down. It looked like she had been serving there since she was young, 30 odd years ago. Of course we had to stop at one of the few remaining classic 50's style diners. When Ollie answered "just a regular black coffee please", she looked at us with the look on her face "city people!" Of course, we should have known better, on route 66, coffee is coffee and tea is tea. Caramel café macchiato never made it out here.
　
We were silently thanking Ford for putting in two big double diesel tanks on our truck; the fuelling opportunities were far apart on the old highway. There would be long stretches of desert and "western-movie" looking geographical terrain with not much resembling civilization. Once in a while there would be a little gathering of houses or one lone derelict petrol station.
　
We started our drive from Ashfork, one of the few functioning villages we saw on Route 66. Most towns we drove through had seen better days. Lots of houses now abandoned, with boarded up windows and doors and something resembling a junk yard in the garden. Typically old diners or gas stations were now made into souvenir shops.

Cowboy Hospitality

The highway started to head up towards what we later identified as the Black Mountains of Mojave County. We thought to ourselves that surely the road would wrap around the mountains. But no, desert turned into mountains, and we kept climbing with our diesel engine roaring on high revs. Slowly we made our way higher and higher up in this dry cactus and lizard territory. The Indian reservation has amazing scenery but the dark night was catching up with us. Arriving in the old style western village, Oatman, we decided to call it a day and look for somewhere to park the truck and maybe find a motel or campsite. Everything was closed and we wondered if anyone would take notice if we just parked at the public village parking lot.
　
"Howdy strangers! You should not park here overnight as the folks here tend to be a bit funny about it... Follow me and you can stay under a shed I have a mile down the road". The stranger in the cowboy hat that pulled up by our truck was Tom, a local horseman, rancher and ex-rodeo rider. We found out later that he runs a horse trekking farm in the area. Surprised by such a friendly encounter, we followed him up a rough steep dirt road to a shelter on the mountain side. We invited the fellow in rodeo chaps and Stetson in for a plastic cup of cold red wine. "I just like to offer some help when I can" he tells us. Tom moved from Colorado seven years ago to this mountain area with his 28 horses, wife and kids. Here he organises horse riding for tourist groups, he also does the odd job for Hollywood where he trains actors in the art of horse craft even casting them with a suitable horse. The movie "Young Guns" was one he contributed to. "They're all a***holes". Tom laughs, but is brutally honest about them movie business folks.
　
Next day mountain turns to flat desert again, and the Route 66 comes to a bumpy end for us. The last bit of the road before entering the charm-less town of Barstow is so rough that we have to drive at walking speed to prevent kidney failure. Trying all speeds, 2 miles and hour, 10 miles an hour, 30 miles an hour, to see if it makes a difference on the washboard like road. We even take to driving with 2 wheels on the dirt verge and 2 wheels on the tarmac, but that just makes things worse. Before we know it the truck sinks down in the soft sand grinding us to a halt. With no one around for miles, Shay says with a sarcastic tone, "now you've done it...how are you going to get us out of this mess?" Luckily 'Oil Change Ollie' knew how! Using the Norwegian "roll-back-and-forwards-to-get-out-of-a-snow-hole technique" combined with using the trucks 4WD for the first time, we were eventually out of the sand hole. The vulchers circling above us were disappointed to witness us getting back on the road again.

Charming Barstow

"What language do you speak?" The "friendly" KFC waitress asked. Shay had asked for serviettes and told her that's what we call them in England. "The things you wipe your hands with..." Shay explains further. "Silver-ware?" the lady questioned. On the way back from our fine dining experience at KFC, some low-life shouts some profanities out his truck window as he roars past in an effort to offend us. Ahhhhh, charming Barstow, just as the Lonely Planet travel guide had described it. We hurried out the town next morning after our night in the oldest motel in town (approx 1920s). The motels big gimmick to draw in the crowds is the round beds (as stated proudly on their neon sign).
　
Over the bonfire back in Santa Cruz, at the New Brighton Beach state park camping ground, we regale Al about our Las Vegas, Grand Canyon and Route 66 experience. In our home away from home, between surf checks, we set about organizing a few more things for the trip down south (kill switches on the truck, high lift jack, extra camper door security, etc.). But after 3 days of persistent rain and a forecast of more to come, we decided to pack up and head south in search for the sun....