Ludlow, a great respite along Interstate 40

Old mining cars on display in Ludlow, California

I spend a lot of time driving along that black ribbon of Interstate 40. Do I enjoy it? Sometimes. And it is the path from here to there I need quite often for expediency. Though, Route 66 is my preferable stretch of road. It’s slower, more scenic, and allows me to just ponder.

Pondering is important. .

No one likes things weighing on my mind. But I do like to think about, or reflect every now and then. To consider things soberly, quietly, or with some good old rock and roll playing in the background. I’d even say I contemplate some things deeply, as if I were a great deep thinker of soul searching meanings, but honestly, I’m often more of a surface kind of guy.

But I do like the term ponder. It rhymes with wander. So, wandering as I do gives me time for pondering.

‘He’s just a wandering and pondering sort of fella.’

So recently, while wandering along Interstate 40 and passing the exit for Ludlow, I began pondering about the history of this small berg fifty-one miles east of Barstow and ninety-two miles west of Needles. Passing it so many times during my eons on this planet, I never gave the history of the town much thought. No offense to those who reside in Ludlow - a lovely group of folks - but when I’d stop in Ludlow, there was a specific reason for said stop: pump some gas, grab a meal, or a big delicious and calorie filled DQ desert, and hit the road again.

The town deserves better. 

Time for some research. 

I discovered that Ludlow was once a booming town. But, as with many such towns that hugged Route 66 like a belt on a pair of pants after Thanksgiving dinner, a diet was in the near future. And that diet was the completion of Interstate 40.

That darn Interstate 40! But, I digress.

Ludlow was once such a happening place that it once hosted an automobile race in 1914 from Los Angeles to Phoenix along National Trails Highway, later known as Route 66, with the famous race car driver, Barney Oldfield as the main attraction.

It was reported that people as far away as Death Valley, descended on Ludlow to view the Cactus Derby, with the hopes of catching a glance of one of this country’s racing legends.

But there is so much more to Ludlow. And I’m not just writing about the reopening of the DQ there – though, that is pretty big news.

Hmmm, banana splits on a hot summer afternoon. Oops, digressing again. 

Turns out that this small community began in the 1870’s. In 1882, the actual town of Ludlow was founded as a water stop for the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, and named after William Ludlow, a train car repairman who did such a good job repairing things, that clearly, the railroad needed to name a town after him.

The small railway stop started to really build into something grand when gold was discovered in the nearby hills. Where there is gold, there is a boom. And a boom was a-booming.

As miners flocked to the region, entrepreneurs also moved in offering all sorts of distractions for those tired and grubby guys with pockets full of gold to spend on lonely weekends. 

One such person was Mother Preston, who built or purchased buildings to convert into a general store, hotel, boarding house, a saloon, café, pool hall, and even a few homes. She was one smart business woman. 

According to an article in the San Bernardino County Sentinel, Mother Preston became so wealthy, she sold her holdings to the Murphy Brothers, who already owned the rest of the town, and promptly retired to France.

It is reported that Mother Preston stated, “Ooh, la la!” after the sale of her holdings. A rough translation is – “Wow, is Versailles for sale?”

In 1900, gold was discovered in the Bagdad-Chase Mine, and became the largest gold-producing mine in San Bernardino County. In fact, the mine produced half of all the gold mined in the county.

Ludlow was also utilized as the southern railhead for the Tonopah and Tidewater Railroad, which was owned by the Pacific Coast Borax Company.

Borax, the answer to those nasty stains in clothes. A little here and a little there, and whammy, just like brand new.

“Johnny, your clothes are filthy!”

“Don’t worry, ma,” Johnny replied. “A little Borax, and they are good as store bought.”

“You are a smart young man, Johnny. You may end up writing for a newspaper someday.”

“My dream of dreams, ma.”

Anyway - with all that gold, and the Borax pouring in from Death Valley, Ludlow began to truly prosper.

For the next few decades, the town continued to grow, as new mines were established, trainloads of Borax along with other minerals coming through, and the advent of the automobile, there didn’t seem an end to the expansion of this town in the Mojave Desert.

But by the 1940’s there wasn’t much use for all the rail activity with the ore playing out and other avenues being found for the delivery of the minerals. The railroads became more efficient and water stops no longer played much of a roll in their daily lives. 

The love of the American automobile came to the rescue to Ludlow. Vehicles roared by on Route 66, right through the town where visitors could grab a night’s sleep at a motor court, grab a meal at the Ludlow Café, fill up at the gas station, or just relax under the branches of a shady tamarisk tree.

But then in the late 1960’s, Interstate 40 was completed, and even though it was merely inches from Ludlow, travelers didn’t need to stop any longer.

“Can’t we stop? I’m hungry,” a child was heard to whine, through the open window of a passing Chevrolet.

“Can’t stop, we’re on a mission to get east of here,” the father replied. “There’s boating fun to be had on the Colorado River.”

So, the people sped by and Ludlow dwindled in population and importance.

Though, it is still an important stop in my mind. Here I go with pondering again.

History is alive here in this little highway town. Strong and independent people took a shot at life in a very hostile environment - threw the dice and survived.

No, not only survived, but prospered. 

Sure, now there isn’t much to the town. Deserted buildings, empty lots, ruined structures, and an old cemetery – but the town truly lives.

There’s a hotel, café, gas station, and the planned re-opening of the revamped DQ attached to a gas station on the north side of Interstate 40.

A great place to stop and eat in Ludlow, California

Most of my sources agree that Ludlow is a ghost town. I say nope, this town is alive, and all the times I’ve stopped there – not one ghost have I seen.

Recently, I stopped at the Ludlow Café and had a great and healthy breakfast (that was for Laureen’s benefit, she worries about me). I pondered on how much grit the early settlers had in settling in such hostile and questionable surroundings. They had it, no matter the obstructions thrown in their path.

And their legacy lives on.

Ludlow might be thought of as a little community, but one with a large part of the history of the Mojave Desert. There is so much to explore in the area, if you have the time. 

And a place to rest your head for the night in Ludlow, California

Albert Einstein once wrote; ‘People like us who believe in physics know that the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion. Time, in other words, is an illusion.’

Can’t argue with a guy rumored to have an IQ of ten thousand, but I know that time, in this world is not an illusion.

Watching your children grow up, a person realizes that time is real and it’s precious. Time for us mere humans is finite.

That’s why I travel and look for new things. New doesn’t mean new construction, but things I didn’t know were there. The history of Ludlow is just one more example. 

When California Meets Florida

When California meets Florida, the comparisons are inevitable. Both have Disney, Universal, and miles and miles of beach, and let us not forget, oranges. But exactly how does Southern California differ from Southern Florida? As a left-coast resident, the prospect of traveling to Florida, even if it were for business, was intriguing. The southeast of this great nation has not yet made it on to our travel list. So, boarding the flight and heading out to an international conference in Orlando, J and L set out to discover what all the fuss was about.

Mountain lion -- just chillin in the warm California sun

As the plane touched ground in Orlando, a fellow passenger and native Floridian remarked, "Welcome to Florida, where everything bites."

Not exactly the kind of warm welcome one might anticipate. Everything bites? Oh yes, mosquitoes, alligators, and the endangered Florida panther.

The panther, named the state animal in 1982 doesn't roar (or should we call it a scream) like it's California cougar cousin, the mountain lion. The California indigenous mountain lions can be found in many places in the state of California and beyond, and despite the fact that an adult male can weigh 200 pounds, with a body length of fifty-four inches AND a three foot long tail, they are elusive and secretive creatures, seldom seen by its human neighbors. And thank goodness! They can jump 18 feet into the air from a sitting position and take down a deer or elk every week or two. With plenty to eat, the mountain lion population is thriving.

This Floridian looks a little angry...

On the other hand, the Florida panther is endangered.  It emits distinctive sounds including whistles, chirps, growls, hisses and purrs, reminding us that this deadly creature is related to that innocent-looking house-cat reading over your shoulder. Slimmer than it's California cousin, males can average about 160 pounds, but can be over seven feet long. That body style allows the panther to jump fifteen feet into the air and forty feet horizontally. Suddenly a thought entered my mind --  perhaps I should stay on the plane.

We were assured that this endangered critter generally did not attend conferences; we were safe.

So, off to do business, and see what else Florida had to offer. Off in a rental car we came across our first (of many) toll roads. There are few toll roads in Southern California, but a lot a of traffic congestion. Very little congestion in Florida, but you literally have to pay for it. Maybe that's not a bad a trade-off.

And scenic? Residing in Southern California's High Desert region, we haven't seen so much green since visiting Ireland a few summers back. And water? No apparent drought here. Whereas Southern California is on nearly permanent water restriction, and the local municipalities will even pay you to quit watering your lawn, green things abound in Florida. Consider the Mojave Desert and Death Valley versus the Everglades, the 'River of Grass.' Water everywhere. Well, they did just have that hurricane. Hmmm. We have earthquakes and fires. Mother Nature does have her way of keeping us humble.

But it is the culture of Southern Florida which really caught our attention during this brief visit. There is a distinct tropical aura, more reminiscent of the Caribbean or Hawaii, than of California. Which makes perfect sense when you think about it. Los Angeles is more subtropical than tropical, situated at approximately 34 degrees north latitude, compared with Orlando at 28 degrees north. The cultural feel is that of a mix of Northeastern US, Canadian and European transplants. Even the Latin feel is different: Cuban and Puerto Rican rather than Mexican in influence. Couldn't say from such a brief visit, but there seems to be a general feeling of a slower pace than Southern California. Perhaps because Florida remains a mecca for retirees, with a median age of 42, eleven years older than that of California. No rat race here.

Florida's version of a screening room

With beautiful weather most of the year, residents like to spend a lot of time outdoors. Californians may dine, or sip a glass of Napa Valley wine on their back porch, year round. Floridians may have to employ a few safety precautions to enjoy these year-round outdoor pleasures. Case in point, the Florida porch -- keeping your children and pets safe from alligators and mosquitoes. Smart idea, if you want to enjoy your Florida orange juice in peace. Remember, humans aren't the only creatures which thrive in warm weather.

Florida definitely has California beat when it comes to cost of living, taxes, and even golf (California comes in third behind Florida in the ranking of best courses). No wonder retirees love this place. Instead of sunscreen though, Florida golfing requires a generous dose of repellent. And do not even think about rescuing your errant ball from the water hazards. Those alligators aren't too quick on land, but they own the water.

Both coasts have always attracted tourists from around the world since the 16th century Spanish explorers "discovered"  the areas (Native American residents notwithstanding). California has flown the flags of Spain, Mexico, and the US, becoming the 31st state in 1850 after gold was discovered. Florida became the 27th state five years earlier, after flying both the Spanish and British standards.

Clearly, SoCal and SoFla seem to attract dreamers from around the world -- very cosmopolitan. While crime, natural disasters, drugs plague these beautiful areas to a similar degree, families live and play with relative abandon at the attractions and beaches alike. There exists in both the Golden State and the Sunshine State, a general feeling that life is about as good as the weather. What more could you ask for?

About those beaches though...

California has the waves, the dramatic coastlines, whale watching, and...well, the occasional shark.

Florida has warmer water, two coastlines (Atlantic and Gulf), and...yes, there are sharks here, too. And manatees. There is, however, no wet suit required, and fortunately, the alligators don't surf.

And this guy's just a baby....

So, if you can handle the humidity....get out there and enjoy a bit of Florida sunshine.

Just remember though:  everything bites.

Super Bloom 2017

Even doggies like flowers

It's blooming flowers - no kidding -- like magic in the Southern California deserts!

The usual brown and seemingly lifeless appearance of the deserts (of course, we know that's not true since we've written about the vibrant life of the desert before) have truly sprung to life this spring.

From the desert sunflowers to ghost flowers, from ocotillo to Canterbury bells and beavertail cactus, the desert is now a carpet of beauty. So much so that people from around the world are traveling to Southern California to witness first hand this phenomenon. March came in like a bushel of roses -- okay, perhaps not, but there are literally billions of blossoms blooming.

And most people believed it was only Disneyland or Universal Studios which could cause such a mad rush into the southern section of the most populous state in the union.

Park Ranger Bier loving the blooming

According to a recent Southern California Public Radio spot called "California Deserts in' Super Bloom' thanks to a Wet Winter" the host, Mandalit del Barco spoke of the beauty of the deserts because of the vast amount of rain California has received.


During the radio interview Anza-Borrego park ranger Steve Bier stated, "I'm looking at a whole field of this bluish purple phacelia. And in this foreground of the Coyote Mountains, that's nothing but poppies going 5, 6 miles up-canyon."




The reason for the sudden blooming of beauty is due to the fact California had been locked into a drought for five years, but the end of 2016 and especially the beginning of 2017 the heavens opened up. Inches upon inches of rain pummeled the state from the border of Mexico to the border of Oregon. The wild flower seeds had lain dormant for years waiting for the right opportunity to come along.

And came along it did - just in Anza-Borrego State Park alone during the winter months of 2016 over six inches of rain fell which is generally how much the park gets in an entire year. No matter, the seeds were ready and willing to sprout.




Reference the stubborn seeds, Bier told Barco that some of the seeds may have lain undisturbed for decades if not even a century - of course this isn't exact but the park's best guess according to their biologists. Some of the areas which received the heavies rains had not experienced a drop from ten to twenty years.



It isn't just the low lying deserts but throughout Southern California - Temecula, Lake Elsinore, Murrieta, and many other areas. They're coming up roses. Well, not roses but the fields are blooming.

The bloom is not over for a few more weeks and the lower deserts bloom a bit more quickly since the temperature is warmer and the same superbloom will be coming to the higher deserts where it is slowly warming up. Making a perfect growing season for the dormant seeds. Antelope Valley, the Mojave Desert, and other High Desert areas will be having quite a show coming up in the next few weeks.

Mother Nature is an odd sort and not one to second guess. A seed buried in the sands of a most inhospitable climate for half a century and then in a blink of an eye they sprout causing a sea of unbelievable color and beauty could be called a miracle.



We decided to keep this short as always a picture tells a thousand words. We believe you will agree with us that millions upon millions of little miracles happened and is happening in the far out reaches of the Southern California deserts.

Go on out - if you happen to be in the area - and take a moment to stop and smell the wild flowers.


Death Valley in bloom

The Road Less Traveled

Why taking the road less traveled is worth it

Visibility Measured in Feet

 On September 21^st J and L decided to head north out of the small town of Trona after visiting the Trona Pinnacles and drive to Panamint Springs on the way to Highway 395. Little did we know that the Trona-Wildrose Road was closed about fifteen miles north of the town due to massive flooding on July 22^nd and July 28^th respectively. Coming upon a road closure sign post with large dirt berms blockading the roadway showed the county of Inyo meant business on keeping the 150 to 200 vehicles which used the road each day.

Being researchers and explorers we simply slipped the Toyota FJ into four-wheel drive and pulled into the sandy desert bypassing the blockades. We were on a mission to get to Panamint Springs through the Panamint Valley and weren’t about to backtrack to Trona just because of some supposed washed out highway. The team does caution others to perhaps not follow our lead but with years of experience in the desert we try to be prepared for any conditions which we may encounter. Those preparations have paid off time and again as we leave the comfort of the pavement and head into the hinterlands.

 What J and L quickly saw ahead of them was a Hollywood version of a highway caught right after an end of the world film.

Where's the shoulder?

Hunks of asphalt missing, road cave-ins on either side of the roadway, buckled surfaces threatening the very existence of our powerful war horse, and the strangest sensation was there were no other vehicles to be seen. For nearly twenty miles we drove through this land of devastation without seeing another human or any sign of life for that matter. To even deepen the feeling of traveling through an apocalyptic period was the miles wide and thousand foot high sand storm directly to our east. The twirling and blowing dark sand seemed to follow us menacingly as we drove carefully and very slowly northward. But, again, being who we are we finally turned the FJ into the very desert that gave existence to the sandstorm so we could get better photographs.

The wind and fine sand were pounding us as we exited the vehicle and started snapping and filming.

It was awesome.

View from the Top

After a few minutes of being sandblasted it was time to retake our position inside the vehicle and finish the journey we had started an hour earlier. With visibility nearly zero at times we finally drove around the north barriers and entered onto State Route 190 and turned west toward Panamint Springs. 

A cold beer for J and a Coke for L at the Panamint Springs Resort was the perfect ending for an adventurous and exciting, though sometimes worrisome, travel through Panamint Valley. 

Tourists  at the resort were busy snapping photographs of the tall blowing sandstorms to the east and making comments like: “They look so dangerous.” “Look how they tower above the landscape for miles and miles.” “You would not catch me out there in the midst of it.”

Haboob - Arabic for blasting/drafting - first named in the Sudan

Oh, what they had missed by not traveling the road less traveled.

Looking east from Panamint Springs toward Death Valley

On a side note – according to the Inyo Register the cost to prepare the Trona-Wildrose road will be in the millions and the time to prepare it is undetermined due to the severity of the thunderstorms which wreaked havoc through-out many of the roads in Death Valley and surroundings desert locales. 

As always, stay careful and be prepared for the unexpected.

A Pinnacle of a Story

Real and Surreal, Star Trek V

Where would one go to explore and find the location of some of the best known Hollywood movies such as Planet of the Apes (2001), Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989), and the all time favorite Lost in Space television series shot back in 1967?

On the Set - Planet of the Apes

 The answer is quite simple - the Trona Pinnacles within the California Desert National Conservation Area. In this 'out of the world' landscape over thirty film projects are filmed yearly and to walk around the tufa spires can easily allow the adventurer to see why this desert location is chosen as a backdrop for those television series or full-length features.

Pinnacles in Perspective

It is quite stunning as well as rather spooky.

Stunning due to over 500 tufa spires (porous rock formed as a deposit when springs interact with other bodies of water), some reaching to over 140 feet into the sky, which stretch for miles within the dry bed of the Searles Lake basin and spooky due to almost foreign life like images one might see on the flat screen on a cold windy night.

J and L decided to take a trip to the area approximately ten miles south of the small town of Trona, California to view for ourselves this Mecca for the unusual. Not Trona but the Pinnacles five miles off of the Trona-Red Mountain Road across a dirt path which is fine for a two wheeled vehicle but a four wheel one are best if there is a cloud in the sky. Being a dry lake bed the area rarely, but it does happen, gets a lot of rain in a short amount of time which turns the ground to soft thick mud. Makes driving almost impossible and often the dirt road is closed by the rangers who need to keep the uninformed safe from themselves.

Closing in on the spires

As we drove closer and closer the landscape took on a stranger and stranger appearance as the tall tufas seemed to be calling out to us for exploration. These hardened shapes of rock dotting the floor of the dry lake had actually once been underwater approximately 10,000 to 100,000 years ago. With runoff from the Sierra Nevada's to the west many tens of thousands of years ago there developed multiple inland seas stretching from Mono Lake (where tufas can be seen jutting out of the lakes waters) to Death Valley which includes Searles Lake where the Trona Pinnacles are located. An interesting side note is that J of J and L and Paul Bakas once kayaked in the night around the tufas on Mono Lake - talk about a scary outing seeing these giant porous rocks sticking out of the black waters while silently paddling - it was like being on another planet but well worth the shivers.

There is a sign on the five mile drive to the tufas indicating the danger of low flying military aircraft and as soon as we read it sure enough a large military turbo-prop scooted across the desert floor a mere hundred feet about us. We could almost feel the propeller wash.

The sign didn't lie.

Video courtesy of Paul Bakas, Videographer and fellow Explorer

When in the area of Trona, it may be a once in a lifetime chance, the Trona Pinnacles is a must to view up close and personal. The stark beauty of the towering towers is enough to make the trip worthwhile but remember, when visiting you may never know who or what you may encounter.

 An Alien Encounter at the Pinnacles

Rhyolite - A Ghost Town that's not Forgotten

During the late spring of 2013 J of J and L along with photographer and friend Paul Bakas took a long drive into the valley of death.

The very name, Death Valley, conjures up images of people struggling through the vast desert east of the Panamint Range, with temperatures soaring during the summer upwards of one-hundred-twenty degrees. The hottest temperature on earth was actually recorded in Furnace Creek in Death Valley on July 1st, 1913 at a blistering one-hundred-thirty-four degrees. It was so warm that it was reported that birds fell out of the sky dead littering the ground.

Yikes - that is mighty hot!

We felt pretty cool and comfortable in the mere one-hundred-seven degree temperature as we tooled past Furnace Creek on our way north to the ghost town of Rhyolite which sits on the eastern edge of the Death Valley just inside the western border of Nevada.

Our destination was the once booming mining town with the Bullfrog Mining District which had its beginning on August 9th, 1904 when Frank "Shorty" Harris and Ernest "Ed" Cross discovered a rich gold deposit on the south side of a southwestern Nevada hill later to be named Bullfrog Mountain. The ore was so rich, $3,000 a ton which would be nearly $77,000 a ton today that thousands of hungry yellow metal seekers soon moved into the area looking for their fortunes.

By 1907 over 4,000 people called Rhyolite home which boasted concrete sidewalks, electric lights, water mains, telephone and telegraph services, a public swimming pool (a good idea in that heat), three banks, stock exchange, opera house, churches, as well as daily newspapers. A full police and fire department took care of any emergencies which may have occurred within the bustling and growing town in the middle of a vast and extremely brutal desert.

But as soon as the boom had boomed the fall came. With a major devastating earthquake in San Francisco in 1906 which diverted capital away from the mines to the south, disrupted railroad services and other financial concerns the town quickly started to slide into a depression. It also didn't help that the mines seemed to have been 'played' out by all those gold seekers.

In 1910 only 675 people still remained in the borders of Rhyolite and soon those too left for greener pastures and by 1922 the Los Angeles Times reported only one ninety-two year old man called the once prospering town his home.

Today there are only partial buildings to remind one of the what this old mining town must have looked like but with a little imagination it is easy to stand in the streets looking at the ghosts of the past. To truly see hundreds of citizens proudly walking up and down the sidewalks of their gem of a city in the middle of nowhere going about their daily activities.


J of J and L, rumored to have a vivid imagination, swore he saw a lovely couple dressed in their finest strolling near the ruin of the opera house hand in hand and smiling into each others eyes.

Perhaps it was only his imagination but then again, perhaps it was not.