Ken and I weighed our options. We tossed around many different scenarios, on what we should do and where we should go next. We thought about staying in Chowchilla, but then opted against it because, frankly, there’s not enough of interest in that area to keep Ken out of trouble. He would have gotten restless, waiting for me to get through my next round of artemisinin, which I take three days out of every fourteen, to combat the babesia infection (a Lyme co-infection).
Now, artemisinin is not for the faint of heart. It is brutal, and it takes the rest of the two weeks to build myself back up to withstand the next round. Being caught in what has become a vicious cycle, it came down to either waiting it out a week on the valley floor, where it was forecast to be really, really hot (and boring), or spend two nights on the road, holding off on the artemisinin for those two days, so that we could then settle in down south, where we really wanted to be.
Speaking of Buttonwillow rest stop: The farther south we traveled along I-5, the more we saw signs about the government causing a draught and subsequent dustbowl because of the enforced water shortage. Plus, there’s signs at each rest stop about conserving water. Well, at Buttonwillow, they have not gotten the message. The sprinklers ran and ran and ran, and at least one sprinkler head was broken and poured water full force. The grass was positively soggy and the dog area was a muddy mess.
All this at a public/government run rest stop, during mandated water conservation? All this, while not ten miles away, crops are drying up and blowing away?
Somebody doesn’t have their priorities straight.
Then again, I question my own priorities, when I push myself on long hauls like this. Each move and all the driving take a lot out of me. But I wanted to be near my daughter, whom I have not seen since she came home for my dad’s funeral.
It took every ounce of strength and prayer I could muster to get us here in one piece. You know that song, Jesus Take the Wheel? Well, He was definitely the One driving yesterday.
If only I could have tapped into one of those wind turbines that seem to have sprouted up on every little hill in the Mojave Desert . . .
We spent the second night in Victorville. Being in the desert, the day may have been hot, but the night was gloriously cool and breezy.
After exploring Victorville and Hesperia a bit, we finished our long haul, arriving at Fisherman’s Retreat in Redlands, in time for lunch, then a nice shower and a dip in the pool before falling, exhausted, into bed before eight.
I slept like a rock. Twelve glorious hours. Can you believe it? Sleep priority has been met.