Prescott to Death Valley

My first “assignment” in my new position with the Journal is to move a Bigfoot up to San Francisco. A Bigfoot is a well-insulated, 3,000-pound “cabin” that sits in the back of a pickup truck, in this case a GMC 2500 Diesel. It needs to be there by the morning of June 3rd.

Dani has joined me on this 1,200-mile test drive so we can evaluate the pros and cons of an “overlander” this large, though we will be sticking to tarmac for the most part. The plan is to retrace part of a trip we did back in June of 2000, and hit a few of the little places we missed last time – like Bodie and Yosemite. For sentimental reasons (and a luggage-free return flight) we’ve left most of our gear behind, and will figure the route out as we go using a paper map and our open eyes.

We pulled out of Prescott far later than planned this morning afternoon, but we had already decided to skip the Route 66 part of the trip since we live right next to it. The campsites I picked out on Lake Mead and the Colorado didn’t look too appealing either so we pushed onward into the sunset.

The first “pro” we’ve noticed with the Bigfoot is that no matter where we are, all we have to do is pull off the road and open the door – the kitchen, dining room and bathroom are always ready to use. After a quick bite to eat in the foothills northwest of Las Vegas, we made for the eastern border of Death Valley and an abandoned RV park I had only read about. What it lacks in shoreline, it more than makes up for in eerie silence and desolate beauty.