Mojave-Fresno Roadtrip (Part 1)

No berries for sale today

Over the winter break I enjoyed a brief roadtrip to southern California, focusing my time on Mojave and Fresno. Truthfully I wasn't overly excited about the prospects of a solo driving tour, but Jenny sensed my road fever and recommended that I hit the pavement. Sharing a couple weeks together in the same house - without the necessary diversion of our traditional work schedule - inspires that kind of creative thinking, I guess.

Relic airplanes at Mojave Airport

Gusty rainstorms bracketed my travels. Still I quickly fell into the familiar, happy routine of long distance driving. My daily total would be less than 350 miles, but I could have driving 500 or more with a smile. I had no particular destination in mind when I pulled away from the garage. I just knew that I wanted to head south. Maybe LA to photograph some Dingbat architecture. Maybe further east. Finally as I slotted myself onto the 101 the desert spoke to me. I would avoid the smoggy metroplex and seek solitude.

Semiotic Ghost 17 miles east of Mojave

I searched out shuttered berry stands for some reason, and craned my neck to read the spindling lines of California's irrigation woes. I reached Mojave some time around four. Already darkness had set in. I grabbed a swell room at the Desert Inn and then returned to the highway in search of that old Rocks Cafe sign 17 miles east. I savored the scrape of barbed wire and the chill wind. Later I lit a cigar and posted myself across the highway from a bail bonds office to capture the zippy threads of headlights. I felt renewed. Next morning I would mosey over to the airport to snap one of its famed lines of airplanes that roast under the sun. Perhaps I would also revisit the aging motels of Fresno.

This bail bonds business is open late

More photos tomorrow.