I got an early start on this day, July 8, 2014, driving through Casper, where the I25 turns Northwards after several miles of heading towards the West, and watching the rising sun throw shadows on the Wyoming landscape.

Nearest to me was grassland, grazing and cropping lands, while mountains weren't far behind that. The morning sun was highlighting these things and a got a nice shot or two just before Buffalo, where the I25 ends and we joined the I90…


Morning sun. It’s great to get an early start on the road…


Landscape shadows. With the sun so low, even small hills threw shadows.


Delightful setting. This place presented a picture really worth taking.

The day was by no means old when I passed through Sheridan and it wasn't long before I crested the hill which carries the large welcoming signs that Montana and Wyoming have facing in their respective directions.

Montana's certainly speaks of a Western outlook, though the 'Big Sky' theme shines through too, and the portrayal of the countryside in the picture by no means misrepresents the beautiful state that it is…


Montana welcome. Adding the ‘old west’ period to the beauty that is Montana.

Having now travelled the I90 across much of Montana three times, I wanted to see some different countryside and I headed for minor roads that would take me through the state capital, Helena, this time.

That's right, the state capital is tucked away on (relatively) minor roads. But that didn't stop me trying to capture the vastness of the place as the Interstate traversed it before I turned off at Three Forks.


I90 scenery. Over every hill on the I90 there’s a fresh and pretty outlook in Montana.


Following the river. For some distance the I90 follows this river, a tributary of the Missouri.


Truck speed limits. A quirk worth noting.


Traffic and mountains. See what I mean about the beauty of Montana?

 

Diverting from the I90 found the Montana scenery still most appealing...



Near Toston I crossed the Missouri River and mentally noted that I was now a very long way from Louisiana - where I'd learned of the Louisiana Purchase - and Burlington - where I'd seen the Mississippi in flood.

This river system is just huge and it underlined just how much country the US bought from France in that purchase. But the river at this point was also pretty big, so far from the sea…


Missouri River. It’s a big river, still so far from the sea!

Then came Townsend, a small (pop. C1800) town which obviously caters for a lot of passing traffic. Here I refuelled myself and the van at the Exxon/Food Pump outlet…


Quick refuel. With food and fuel at the one outlet in Townsend I was able to make this a quick stop.(GE)

…after which Highway 287 took me past Canyon Ferry Lake, where holidaymakers obviously go…


Canyon Ferry Lake. A holiday spot for these hot summer days.

...before Winston, then the surprise of driving into and through Helena.


Entry to Helena. Some billboards and traffic lights at East Helena introduced me to the capital of Montana.

One expects a capital city to be large, congested, tall buildings everywhere and endless suburbs, but not Helena. It's like a country town with a couple of large buildings located about it for the administration offices.


Helena.Definitely more a ‘country town’ feel than a capital city.

From there my drive took me over the mountains to the West, quite a long climb over what's termed the 'Continental Divide' at McDonald Pass.


Climbing the Divide.This was quite a climb and exposed even more beautiful scenery.

This was over 6,000ft high and it was noticeable. Down the other side I stopped at a little lay-by where a tap was permanently running presumably spring water out of the mountainside…


The other side.More fresh views after crossing the range.


Water source.I was able to refill all my drinking water containers at this perpetual tap.

I checked the water and it was pretty good to drink, so I took the opportunity to fill my bottles that I always had with me to keep me refreshed. Just after Avon I saw this house on the move…


Housemoving.I wonder where this was going?

And speaking of refreshed, this fisherman would certainly have been. Once again the day was hot, around 90°, I saw him in the Little Blackfoot River…


Fishing. I never expected to see someone fishing like this so close to the road.

...which was bridged a mile or so down the road by both the railway and the road. The road bridge went right over top of the Southern end of the rail bridge…


Bridges.The bridge over this river was high enough to clear the rail bridge below.

And then I reached Garrison and rejoined the I90 for the beautiful run down Clark Fork. River, railway and highway occupy this valley for miles on end and interesting variations take place as sometimes the railway crosses to the other side of the Interstate, sometimes the Interstate crosses the river and so on.


Clark Fork. One of the features of driving through Montana, yet the only pic I took there this time was this very poor example.

As the day started to dim I was looking for something to eat at Missoula, which led to me driving around the town a bit. But not much sprung up in front of me and I headed back out to the Interstate and got a feed at one of the service centres. Then it was time to find somewhere to sleep.

My idea was to not be too far from Spokane when I awoke, but I knew I'd be awake well before I could count on Jon being available there. So a place maybe 80 to 100 miles before Spokane would suffice. I took the off-ramp at a couple of places, but it wasn't until I had crossed the border into Idaho and took the exit to Mullan that I was happy to pull up and call it quits for the day having covered just over 800 miles.

No cosy camp spot, no well-appointed Rest Area, just a quiet spot where I could lie down in the bed for my last night's sleep in the van for this trip…

 

I couldn't tell you. Around here, you might see one every now and then but we don't get the snow they do in the upper tier. Locally, the farmers do it but up north it might be the government.

 

Waking early as scheduled, I fired up the van and got back onto the I90. Not far to go and I was keen to get there…



…I was looking to find a McDonalds so I could get yet another cup of oatmeal and fruit for breakfast and I found one at Kellogg, not too far from Mullan.

Just as I reached the door (behind which lights were on and people were working) and tried vainly to open it…


Lights on but too early! After taking Exit 49, this was the scene as I pulled up at the Kellogg McDonalds.(Gwen Johnson)

…two later model Dodge pickups pulled into the carpark. As I realised the place wasn't yet open, and as I was watching this family start running towards the door, I called out, "They're not open yet!"

The father was leading the charge and had a substantial lead over his wife, while the kids were between them hurrying as though their stomachs hadn't been filled for days. He turned and called out to her, "It's not open yet!" and then asked me where the next McDonalds would be.

I told him that it was at Missoula and that was about a hundred miles. This message, too, was relayed to the wife - who had stopped in her tracks - with a loud voice. Her response, standing with her hands on her hips, was, "I'm out of gas!"

And so we had this scenario…


Refuelling.Travelling from Alaska to Wyoming, this family carried a lot of fuel with them.

…where fuel was being pumped from a big tank on the trailer into her pickup while the kids pumped from a drum into the red pickup's tank. This family, which I think had army connections, was en-route from Alaska to Wyoming. I hope they got some breakfast somewhere, They sure burned up some energy..

I drove on and found another place to eat, then headed for Jon's yard and the day began in earnest. Along the way there was beautiful Coeur d’Alene:


Coeur d’Alene.Three views of this pretty area in Northern Idaho, a popular resort area...


Looking North. …and on the other side of the Interstate was a smaller section of the lake – and some late-sunrise colour.

It wasn’t without reason that Janet had written, “…very pretty, lovely houses taking advantage of it. They have their own boat ramps, what a gorgeous spot!” when we drove through here with the sun setting.


Boating paradise. There’s a Yacht Club out there and moorings for lots of boats at Arrow Point.

After 14,400 miles I drove the van back into Spokane, where it was to be a very busy day. There was a lot of stuff at Jon’s shed ready to be packed into the pickup for transport to Australia. And there was work to do on the pickup as well, not to mention that all my gear that I had to take home had to be transferred to the pickup as well.


The Adventurer.My mount for the remaining miles of this epic journey, a 1973 Dodge D100 Adventurer with the Club Cab.

Not forgetting, of course, that we did a trip to the 'pick and pull' yards. We had previously found a plastic tray liner out of a Dakota, it was a little small for the D100 but it would certainly protect it from all the heavy iron that was to be loaded in the back. I'd forgotten how good these yards are when I dragged the liner up during our previous visit to find out how much it was. I thought he'd said sixty dollars and was about to take it back, but Jon clarified things and told me it was $16 and I quickly paid.

Jon had found, in my absence, that the styled steel wheels fitted to the pickup were from mid-'90s Ford Rangers, so we located a couple more of those and got some used tyres fitted. Otherwise I had no spares, and I wanted two matching spares.


Pull & Save.Jon’s favourite wrecking yard as seen from Google Earth.

Back in Jon's shed he'd lined up everything I had to take with me. Rear axle assemblies, a 360 motor, the automatic gearbox I'd taken out of the van before the trip and all the bits allied to it should I ever want to refit it.

Spare brake discs and calipers added to the pile, a lot of new brake parts bought in Spokane earlier, and there was all the stuff I'd picked up along the way. The pickup had helper springs on the back and they were needed, while the extra cabin space was very handy.


Transmission.The original transmission from the van was a part of the huge load put into the back of the Adventurer.

An oil change was called for as the pickup hadn't been used for a long time. I have never seen an oil filter so hard to get off! We tried everything without seeing it budge at all, we drove a big screwdriver through it and tried to turn it, finally a cold chisel on the base moved it. When it ultimately came off it was in so many pieces! And along the way one of Jon's friends dropped in for a chat.

I was pretty impressed with Jon's terminology at one point. Jon had elaborated to his friend what I had done in the past eight weeks, 14,400 miles through 37 states and into seven Canadian provinces, and the friend remarked that this was a big trip and asked if I'd had problems - and asked whether it was a wise thing to do with a vehicle now 27 years old.

"Oh, Ray's a Leap-of-Faith man," Jon explained.

It was about this time that I told Jon I wouldn't be having a shower. Bear in mind here that it was now Wednesday and I hadn't showered since Saturday way back in Omaha.

Jon expressed great surprise when I announced this. So I explained, "I've been driving over all these bridges with clear running creeks and rivers under them," I said…


Rivers and creeks. Having seen an abundance of clear streams just off the road, I knew I’d find somewhere to have a bath during the heat of the day.

…"And it's over 90 degrees every day, I'm going to have a bath in a river!" Jon understood.

By the end of the day all was ready and loaded, Jon started to head home and I drove up the road. But I didn't go very far!


Spares.Spare brakes for both the pickup and the van, as well as assorted other brake parts made up a part of the heavy load.

I rang Jon and got him to come back. There was some serious wheel-wobbling going on and we established that the rear wheels weren't seated properly. The holes in the centres of the rear wheels were smaller than the protrusion on the axle (known as the 'Wheel Register', it's purpose is to ensure that the wheel is properly located on the axle) and so the wheels didn't sit straight. This is a common problem when putting Ford wheels onto a Chrysler vehicle.

Jon had other commitments so we concluded that the best bet was to tighten the wheels so they sat as straight as we could get them and that I'd stop and check them regularly. As the problem didn’t apply to the front wheels we figured the previous owner must have modified them.

And so my heavily-laden (or overladen) 1,200-mile drive to Long Beach began. I got a tankful of fuel…


Older Dodge.This older pickup was getting fuel at the same place as I was...


Poly engine.…it had an early Poly engine, based on the early Hemi V8s.

… and something to eat in Spokane and headed South knowing things were possibly going to get seriously dodgy back there.

I also had a much less comfortable sleeping arrangement as the truck was very full, both in the back and in the cabin, and as I drove I realised that, even though I had tools to take care of most things, I didn't have a jack if I ran into trouble with the wheels…


Tomorrow’s scenery.It was in darkness that I began my trip South, in the morning there’d be more sightseeing like this.

I’m not sure where I stopped to have my sleep that night, probably at Uniontown, where there was a little park with public toilets right on the highway. This was about two hours into the drive to Lewiston. I had to be tired to get to sleep and I knew I’d wake early…

 

July 11, 2014...




Yes, I was to live up to my suggestion that I'd have a bath in a river, but first I had to navigate towards Lewiston, Idaho, which is at the foot of one huge hill…


Lewiston, Idaho. One drops off this plateau to get to Lewiston, the road is steep and winding…


The sign says it. …the sign tells all. And wouldn’t it be a silly truckie who tried descending in a high gear?


Lewiston hill. Looking ahead one can see this is a serious descent.

In Lewiston I looked around a little and found some breakfast at their McDonalds. I was now ready for my day on the road as I drove out alongside the river.


Lewiston levees. Levee banks indicate that Lewiston sometimes has to live through floods, while the opening span on the old bridge shows that there’s traffic on the river too.

Then my path took me into backroads of Idaho and some spectacular scenery. Signs gave the history of the area while a giant railway trestle caught my eye and the ever-changing vistas made for a lot of refreshment.


Mountains and rivers. These features would build spectacular scenery for me on this day.


And bridges. Or ‘trestles’ as this very tall rail bridge would be called. Spectacular!


Lookout. A broad view over the countryside, very few live in these parts.


Salmon sign. Some interesting explanation of the history of this canyon.

But nothing was as refreshing as my midday stop, which was near White Bird, shown on the map as 'Slate Creek Recreation Site.'

There was a boat ramp, a little picnic area and a fresh and clean-running Salmon River. A couple of maintenance men were working on a pump, but they soon left and I was alone, I located a private spot in the river and went in for my bath…


My ‘bathroom’. Out of sight to the left behind that tree was where I had my bath in the Salmon River.

Of course, taking a bath in a river can never be a complete clean-up. You get out either onto mud or sand and your feet cannot be clean. So when everything else was clean, dry and dressed I headed up to the picnic area and finished it all off at a tap there. But there was more.

I was putting my gear back into the pickup when I looked back at where I'd just been at the tap, there was a deer there with big antlers looking around and nibbling at the grass. I just had to get pictures of that one:


Deer. This fellow must have been hiding under the tree while I brushed my teeth and got my feet clean.


Back into hiding. And when he saw me looking at him he tucked himself away again!

After that I continued South through some very pretty country. That 'Salmon River' sign revealed that this country was only traversed on horseback until 1921, there were no towns to speak of, so it's no surprise that I didn't see much in the way of traffic.

I had only covered about 100 miles since Lewiston at this point, so the care I was taking with the rear wheels, the winding road and my need for some cleanliness were taking a toll. And it meant I’d have to drive well into the night to enable me to keep my next appointment.


Light traffic. From time to time I saw other cars, but not many of them. Obviously I caught this pair as we were heading out of the mountains.


Flatter country.By mid-afternoon I was out of the hills and into flatter country as I headed down through New Plymouth.

Onward I pressed, it was now afternoon. Along the way I refuelled at Fruitland, at New Plymouth I refuelled myself. I now planned my next step, heading towards the Sierra Nevada where I was to visit Tom, another internet friend...



This would take me across the South-East corner of Oregon and on into Nevada, where I'd be back onto major roads at Winnemucca. In the meantime the traffic was light.

But first I had to traverse the barren landscape that led to that corner of Nevada. Remember that I was still making regular inspections of the rear wheels and the wheel nuts, things seemed okay there, but I still felt it was a big chance I was taking with all that load in the back.

The day was coming to an end as I steered across the mostly featureless land that rolled out before me. I was getting tired, the day was closing off sharply and I was looking for somewhere safe to stop for the night. This would be my second night in the way less comfortable confines of the pickup, but if I was tired enough…

I crossed the border into Nevada at McDermitt. Not a big town…



Not a big town. This picture shows almost the whole town. Obviously I arrived late at night and couldn’t see much of it anyway.{GE}

…I was just about through it before I realised there would be no more. There was a gravelled area adjacent to a closed gas station I don’t like to ‘camp’ too far from people so I had to stop here as ahead of me I knew there was just empty desert. Likewise, I like to get well off the road, too…



Out of the way. Though this 2009 Google Earth pic shows the place to be open, it was out of business when I stopped there.

…and I pulled in there and locked myself in, closed my eyes and waited for the first light of morning to wake me.

But I didn't sleep quite that long...

 

July 12, 2014, into the Sierra Nevada:



In the end I had enough of the uncomfortable sleeping position at McDermitt and I drove off before the light of the sun started to throw shadows on the landscape again. I’d covered about 450 miles the previous day, about 550 since leaving Spokane. I still had 220 to go to Tom’s place.


Featureless morning. There wasn’t much to be seen as I left McDermitt and heading towards Winnemucca.

The road was straight and long and it led to Winnemucca, yet another gambling town in Northern Nevada. The 75 miles I covered in semi-darkness was all on a 2-lane road, of course, but at Winnemucca the sunrise was making its presence felt…


Sunrise and the I80. It was a good start to the day to get this far so early, the sight of the Interstate gave me heart with that questionable wheel problem.

…and here I would join the I80. But first I drove into town and enjoyed the sun’s rising and the lights of the place creating a strange atmosphere.


Winnemucca lights. Nevada’s gambling towns never sleep, so mixing with the sunrise the lights made a strange picture.

Naturally enough, a round-the-clock-town such as this had breakfast available early and I settled on The Griddle for mine. They kindly also allowed me to use some of their hot water in the washroom to give myself a shave, something I couldn’t do in the cold water of the previous day’s bath.


After sunrise. Outside ‘The Griddle’ the grey of early morning soon replaced the glow of sunrise, well-fed I was ready to move on.

Now it was time to venture further, so I started to drive out of town. But I pulled up before the Interstate entrance to check those back wheels. To my horror, one of the wheel studs simply broke off as I checked it!


Broken stud! As soon as I touched the nut to check it the stud fell off!

No jack. Not enough tools for this job. A huge load in the back. A wheel that wants to come off and over a hundred and forty miles to go to Tom's place. I decided to do the best I could with what I had and make even more regular checks as I drove on. But after only forty or so miles further things started to feel like it wasn't the wise thing to do any more.

I phoned Tom and told him where I was and asked that he bring a jack and a big half-round file, explaining that I just had to file out those wheel centres so they fitted over the wheel registers on the axles. He was happy to oblige, so I parked the pickup under the freeway bridge over the exit to Rye Patch Reservoir and Recreation Area and waited in the shade.

Adjacent to the exit there was a level crossing, so for some time I entertained myself watching the various vehicles getting pulled up there as trains went by, the most memorable one being a boat on a trailer with a whole bunch of kids riding in the boat.


Passing the time. Trains were coming by and a few vehicles had to wait for their passing. The boat was loaded down with kids.

Eventually Tom arrived, he not only had the jack and file, but he'd also brought a cordless drill with a grinder. So the job began. The right rear wheel came off and the remaining wheel studs were hammered out and replaced - I had plenty of this stuff on board from my trips to the Spokane wrecking yards - then we started filing and grinding the four wheels.


Under the underpass.I found some rocks to chock the wheels while we had the back jacked up, the shade from the bridge made the work a little easier.


Hefty load. The jack Tom brought certainly earned its keep with that load.

I remarked to Tom that an engineer friend of mine at home wouldn't be happy to see this rough method of getting the wheels to fit, he responded by telling me his son is an engineer and he'd be right there with us if he could be!

As we filed and ground, we'd try the wheels to see if they fitted onto an axle without studs in it. This was helpful and we made real progress until I forced one wheel onto the axle and it got stuck! But eventually we had two good wheels on the truck and another good one in the back. The other was scheduled for a visit to a railway workshop, Tom advising me that it had a big press. The railway workshop was in a very interesting place, a place loaded with things to look at:

So we were able to drive on…

 

Sierra Nevada in sight. That’s the mountains in the distance, I followed Tom, we stopped once – at Lovelock – for something to eat.

When we got to Silver Springs, near Tom's home, we met up with a friend of Tom’s who worked with the railway company and together we went on up to Virginia City and its railway yard…


Virginia and Truckee. Their own private railway line, now seeing rolling stock being restored.


Railyard collection. Places like this always have a lot of stuff around, much of it seemingly not related to the purpose of the yards. But it might be useful!


Shed and restorations. Another carriage being restored outside the workshop containing the press we needed.


Tanker trucks. Of course you need to truck in fuel, and this Dodge must have done its share in the past.


City in background. Some of the city had a good view of the railway yard.

Tom’s friend had the run of the railway’s workshop and he soon set up to press the axle out of the rim. And didn't it 'pop' when the pressure was high enough!

A few more deft strokes of the file and it was a good fit. So we had a look around Virginia City, with Tom explaining that this was the town used in the town scenes in Bonanza.


Bonanza! A lot of the tourists come here to see the place because it was used in the TV series.



Hills and weather. Some mountain weather was threatening, but we didn’t get any rain.


Tourists. The tourists make Virginia City a busy looking place.


Opera House. Not up to the scale of the one in Sydney, but such towns did foster the arts in days gone by.


Class. This house made an impressive sight, undoubtedly costing a lot to build in its time.

With thoughts of the old TV show we descended the mountain and after a stopover at a bar went to Tom's house.


Rainbow. An appropriate end to our drive up to Virginia City…

Going to Tom’s was quite an adventure in itself. His driveway is not easy going at all and it leads to a hilltop hideaway where all kinds of mechanical marvels have somehow been dragged home and stored. And after looking over all of this stuff, it was time for me to get moving again, so the appropriate 'goodbyes' were said and I drifted off a few miles to the South before getting something to eat and pulling up for the night.


Wrapping the 413. Tom and his friend re-wrap the big old 413ci Dodge truck engine I’d come to see. In the background was the Porsche 356, just one of the interesting things he had taken up his driveway over the years.

I had seen so much and learned so much from the day. Virginia City, I was told, was settled by people seeking gold, and they were scratching away through this grey gravel as they looked. The grey gravel was used to build things, as ballast and so on until one day someone decided to have it assayed. Virginia City, they soon learned, was one of the richest silver mining areas in the world!

And right near Tom's home there was a hill which he told me they mined a lightweight basalt, it was in big demand for use in concrete where weight had to be kept down.

Such an interesting area, I wondered what the next day would bring as I got a solid if not comfortable night's sleep just 25 miles down the road at Dayton…

 

July 13, 2014…

My plan for this day was to get to the home of Chris, my contact at BHJ Dynamics, and he lives in Pleasonton, California. Along the way I would see the sights of more of the Sierra Nevada, through Yosemite National Park (mainly to again see the giant sequoias) and some more countryside across from the mountains to the 'Bay Area' suburb where Chris lives.

Having camped near Dayton, I had my third night in the confined quarters of the driver's seat of the pickup. Nowhere near as comfortable as the bed in the van!



But that was forgotten for two reasons. First, the views along the way, lakes and mountains following one after the other, and also a crisis with fuel in the pickup. One of those lakes, I later learned, is alkaline and supports only one kind of life - a particular breed of shrimp.


Lake Topaz. A large lake which formed part of the spectacular scenery in the Sierra Nevada.

At Walker I saw the price of the fuel and decided I had to look for somewhere cheaper. But a mile or two later I looked more seriously at the fuel gauge and decided that I had to back-track and pay the premium price. Reckoning on a better price, I didn't buy much, and I drove on through Sonora Junction and Bridgeport and it was no lower.


Fuel expensive. I baulked at how much fuel I should buy here – a mistake!


Mountains ahead. This country is all mountains, but ahead they were even higher.


Another lake. I stopped to get a better view of this one, Mono Lake.

What I didn't know was that I simply didn't get enough and I was to run out of fuel on a long climb leading into the town of Lee Vining. I quickly got a lift into town and paid even more for some there! But that wasn't to be the end of the difficulties.


Shell at Lee Vining. Such is the nature of the area that the Shell station, who were nice enough to lend me a can to put some fuel in, has a view of Mono Lake.(GE)

Shortly after that I began a very long and steep climb across the range leading to Yosemite. Every time I was sure the crest was in view I was to be disappointed as I reached that point and the climb simply continued. The poor 318 was pulling hard and was down to first gear all the way*. We had fitted a temperature gauge back in Spokane and it was showing the effects of this hard work.


Great Sierra Wagon Road. It must have been tough on horses as it was hard for my pickup. A long steep climb, I always felt it would level out around that next bend… (GE)

Finally, several miles into the climb, I rounded a tight corner and saw a very slow truck ahead. The poor pickup wouldn't survive if I had to slow any more, there was too little airflow through the radiator anyway, so I pulled up in a bit of a flat area on the side of the road. There I waited while the temperature dropped. Fortunately I didn't lose any water in all of this.

I had some water with me and I ran it over the header tank to help cool it down, I also poured some over the exhaust manifolds so they'd stop feeding more temperature into the heads, perhaps take some out of them. Little tricks you learn over the years, and you know, of course, that it's fatal to take the cap off or, if you do, to feed cold water into the system.

When I resumed driving it wasn't long before I crested the hill and then I entered the Yosemite National Park. Suddenly there was beauty all around, green trees, blue lakes, grey rock formations and lots of people enjoying their Saturday at play in the waters…


Into Yosemite. A change of scenery after crossing the divide, beautiful Yosemite National Park!


Yosemite rocks. Rocks like this tended to make me think of those near home.


Climbing rocks. Rocks like these are famous for climbers. Not for me!


Holiday makers. Yosemite was teeming with people out for holiday fun.


Swimming hole. Many got it here, swimming in this great-looking lake.

I stopped at a tourist office and obtained a map and then headed straight for the giant sequoias. But the sheer beauty of the place showed why it’s a National Park.


Majestic. A lot of adjectives have been used to describe the beauty here, but none are truly adequate.


Big Oak Flat Road. In years gone by most people came into the area seeking their fortune, they needed roads.


Road maintenance. It was tough road-building country in those times.


Crocker Station. In time accommodation became a major part of local income.

From there it was on to see more of those magnificent giants of the California forests...


* Six years later I sold the pickup. The new owner phoned me a couple of days later, "I fixed the pickup!" he said. Bewildered, I let him explain, "It was only getting half-throttle, I adjusted it and now it goes like a beauty!"

 

It would be an honest assessment to say that I didn't give Yosemite the attention it deserved...

My main reason for going there was to once again see the majestic Giant Sequoia trees, these being something that I'd learned a little about and school and always marvelled at when they were pictured and their size was described in books and magazines.

It was a slight (very slight) disappointment, then, when I found that these trees weren't as impressive as the ones I'd seen near Crescent City on the coast on my previous trip, but they are still a great thing to see, and to see how fragile they are in winds - many tops being blown out of the trees - and the way they take their relatively small greenery to the top of the forest to get the sun.


Giant sequoia. Magnificent trees, unique to this part of the world. So tall it’s hard to comprehend.


Not as outstanding. Even so, they are not as outstanding as the ones I saw on the coast the previous trip.

When I got there I found I was in for a walk of about a mile to see them, but they were worth it. Fortunately I found a Danish family who could provide me with company and conversation as we walked.


A big trunk. Trees as big as this one were few, but there were some and they impress greatly.


Cut through. In the days of stage coaches someone thought it a good idea to allow them to pass through this huge beauty.


Lost tops. Wind is a problem for these trees, often tops are broken off by heavy winds.

I had to keep moving after the earlier delays and got in touch with Chris. Along the way I stopped off at a shopping centre and bought a few things, the main item being a watermelon so I could give Chris' children a bit of a treat. And along the way I saw a water reservoir which was at a dramatically low level to indicate that California was in severe drought.


Low dam. Shortly after leaving Yosemite I drove past this dam, an indicator of the drought California was suffering.

The older-style concrete road across the hills towards Pleasanton and the outer suburbs of San Francisco nearby was in shocking condition. Several lanes in each direction and the concrete was obviously very mobile and caused the pickup to bounce about alarmingly.


Corrupted concrete. Age, weather and heavy traffic had taken their toll on the highway across to Pleasanton.

But it survived and I followed the GPS right into the address I was given. Chris greeted me and introduced me to his family. Eventually I got out the watermelon and treated the children to watermelon on toast, something I understand they would continue to tell all their friends about for a long time afterwards.

There was even more load to go into the cabin of the truck here, a small supply of Hemi 6 harmonic balancers BHJ had made up for me:


Specialised balancer. By separating the inertia ring from the pulley these balancers are designed to perform better than the standard units.

Which was all the more reason for me to be happy to sleep comfortably in a bed that night.

Now I was in California I was close to the end of my journey. I would be flying out of Los Angeles, but first I had to catch up with an old friend in San Diego.

 

It was nice to have met up with Chris and his family, but the Sunday morning dawned with me looking at still more miles on the road as I closed in on the final days of my trip. Peter Scott had been a friend since those times in the seventies when I went to Adelaide race meetings to write the reports for Racing Car News.

But there was still much to see on the way and it began with a refuelling at Pleasanton and then driving over that bumpy concrete stretch of the I580 back to the I5 near Tracy. As I cruised South…



…I drove up onto a lookout:


Lookout entry sign. Most of the traffic rushes by, but I was in no hurry at this stage of the day.

It was on a hill that stood out as almost unique in the flat country through which I was now driving. The lookout’s purpose is to enable people to see the massive irrigation canals which run parallel to the Interstate. It also occurred to me that this ‘hill’ might have been built with materials dug out when the canals were built, and maybe so if the canals were dug before the interstate carved its way through the hill.

From there I could see, not only the giant irrigation canals, but also the streaming traffic going both ways on this Sunday morning, the crops growing in the irrigation areas and the contrast between their green and the dry unwatered areas...


California lookout. A solitary hill standing out of the flat country alongside the Interstate provided this view of great contrast, both looking North...


...and looking South. Irrigated green and unwatered brown.

Then I spotted a truck…


Truckload. I didn’t know then what was in this truck, but I learned later in the morning.

...with a bin on the truck and another on the trailer, each about twenty feet long and full of some kind of red-coloured fruit. My first thought was nectarines, but then I saw another truck and then another, just the same.

From there I drove off the Interstate and into Los Banos and went online at the McDonalds. Here I saw many more of those trucks coming through and learned that the fruit was tomatoes. Dozens of trucks, each with two of those bins, going through the town, it was fascinating to me.

Back on the Interstate just a few miles further South I stopped at a rest area for a little while and decided to take photos of these truckloads of tomatoes. I got twenty trucks in ten minutes, and this continued all day and into the evening as I continued down the highway. The level of production is just beyond the kind of thing we see in Australia.


Plenty of trucks. In ten minutes I photographed twenty of these trucks!


Rubber bands. I also got a photo of this wagon on those detestably stupid rubber band tyres.

I pressed on into the LA area, refuelled there and kept on going into the night. I would be back here in a couple of days to fly out so it didn't matter that I missed the scenery on the way through.


Water tank container. I got this pic near Long Beach, I’d seen this style of container with built-in wheels on my first trip but got no pictures, but they were plain containers unlike this modified one.

These intrigued me and caused much discussion as I tried to explain what I’d seen on various forums.


Nuclear reactors. Right alongside the Interstate were these two nuclear reactor domes, something with which I’m not familiar. I took these photos on my return trip,


Power lines. More familiar were the power lines coming from the nuclear power stations, though these were built differently to all the ones I’ve seen elsewhere.

This was the San Onofre nuclear power station which was inactive. It had been closed down for a couple of years by order of the authorities, then a year before I went through there it had been announced it was to close permanently. This had been a 2,150 megawatt generator.


Peter Scott used to race Formula Vees in Adelaide and then bought a new Elfin Formula 2 car, which he didn't run many times at all. We spent a lot of time together back in those fun days and I knew we'd have a lot of things to talk about as we compared notes on the intervening years.

Then he went to America in the hope that he'd get a chance to make it there as a professional driver. Eventually he finished up as crew chief on an Indycar team, and then worked for one of the big Sports Car teams as Team Manager. He married an American girl and they achieved a fair bit together, but his wife died a couple of years before my Janet did. Now he's retired and alone.


Aliso Creek Rest Area. I pulled up here well into the evening and spent my fourth night in the uncomfortable confines of my overloaded pickup.

I couldn't go to his place late at night so I pulled up at a Rest Area, it wasn’t far from Carlsbad. In the morning I'd give him a ring, I was very much looking forward to catching up after... was it forty years?


Ugly Ford. I also photographed a Ford Flex, which I considered to be the ugliest car I’d seen on the trip… this would be a lively discussion with Peter the next day.