I often find myself on the road, which is a good thing, since I write a travel feature each week.  But sometimes I have no idea where to go, or where I might end up. And, that is sometimes, the beauty of traveling.

Go west young man, Horace Greeley told Mark Twain, and though I ain’t that young anymore, I just head out in any direction to see what there is to see. And there’s a lot to see.

Recently, while driving Route 66 – yes, I like America’s road – I came across a road closure sign just a few miles east of Amboy. I don’t like road closures. It seems there’s a reason why that road is closed and I want to know why. Is it closed due to a government secret? Perhaps an alien ship crashed in the desert that the government is hiding it from the citizens.

Think that’s far-fetched? Think Roswell, New Mexico, my friends.

So, anyway, I came across that road closure sign but when I read the fine print – it clearly said the road was closed to through traffic east of Cadiz Road. Well, that made all the difference in the world to me. Perhaps, I didn’t want to be a through trafficker past this Cadiz Road. That meant I could drive down the road to Cadiz and turn around, if I wanted to.

Always study the fine print

What was a Cadiz anyway? Wasn’t sure but knew I had to go there. Turned out the true closed road was exactly at Cadiz Road. That’s where the government actually was stopping any traffic from traveling further east on Route 66.

What were they hiding? After a bit of research, it turned out there were no alien crash sites but simply the road was closed due to multiple bridges being washed out after some pretty heavy desert flooding in 2014. This section of highway has been closed for many years – many, many years. How long does it take to rebuild a few bridges? Apparently six, and counting…

Hmmm, I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, but I do believe in the occasional conspiracy. Maybe, just maybe, the Mojave Desert has a new Area 51.

I’ll check that out soon – I’m a professional explorer, so don’t try that on your own.

Back to Cadiz.

Turns out I had been to Cadiz. I had just forgotten momentarily, since it had been a bit over twenty years ago.

It happens to be one of the oldest constantly inhabited cities in Western Europe. This city, located on a piece of land jutting out into the Mediterranean Sea in Spain, is thought to have been founded in 1104 B.C. – oops, wait a moment. Wrong Cadiz.

Our Cadiz, the California one, was founded in 1883, by Lewis Kingman. He worked as a railroad engineer for the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad. This was the third railroad station located along this stretch of the Mojave Desert. Each station was alphabetical to its neighbor – Amboy, Bagdad, Cadiz, and so on. 

Driving into the area, the ruins of the Road Runners Retreat lines the south side of Route 66. This retreat was actually in what is now the ghost town of Chambliss – originally known as Chambliss Station. A water tower location for the railroads.

However, this resort had plenty of life in the 1960’s, when Roy and Helen Tull built the comfortable and welcome resort for travelers along Route 66. But when Highway 40 was built miles away to the north, the business lost its customers and closed its doors in the mid 1970’s. The café struggled until the early 1990’s.The buildings are boarded up. There’s no sign of life except for lizards, snakes, and possibly extraterrestrial life forms. I believe I saw a shadow run between two of the buildings. Can’t be certain, but the hair on my neck stood up. 

Not much left out there in Chambliss

Chambliss, as with the resort, faded to obscurity with that darn highway that made traveling so much faster, but also so mundane. In fact, records indicate that in 2005, the population of Chambliss was six residents and a dog. I didn’t see a dog on my visit.

The sign for the resort is still standing tall. One can imagine the neon lights flickering in the clear night, beckoning road weary travelers for a bit of a respite from the dry desert.

What's left of the Road Runner's Retreat 

Of course, there is the Bolo Station Bar/Grill and RV Park. It looked like life was percolating there. Well-kept buildings, tall trees, bushy bushes and plenty of space for RVs.  I drove in, asked a gentleman if I was in Cadiz, he pointed down the road and said three more miles.

Well, those three miles turned out to be quite interesting. As I thought I had been given erroneous information, suddenly there was the sign for Cadiz. There was no town. But, I did run across a smashed up vehicle on the east side of the asphalt. It looked like something out of Mad Max. Really cool.

Desolate and Mad Max worthy

Soon the asphalt ended and I was on dirt. I followed that dirt road to what appeared to be a large agricultural center. It should be noted that Cadiz actually sits atop one of the largest aquifers in Southern California. So much so, that it is listed as being able to supply water to Southern California for 400,000 residents with plenty to spare. The area is known for being in the forefront of water conservation and is earnestly working with the State of California, as well as the federal government for this very purpose.

As I drove into what was the labelled Cadiz Farm, I noticed what appeared to be a Christmas tree forest. But no, as I got closer and closer, the realization hit me that it was a gazillion acres of marijuana. 

Ah, a forest of green - hmmm, not Christmas trees though

I got out and walked through the fields for about ten minutes, or perhaps a couple of hours, or a week. Wasn’t sure, but when I got back to my truck, Jimi Hendrix was standing there playing his Fender Stratocaster. We laughed, exchanged musical lyrics and far too soon, he faded away – but just before he was gone, he smiled as only Jimi could and stated, “Cadiz you later.”

Cadiz you later, Jimi

Turns out the farm actually produces an array of other farm produce – it’s a huge agricultural business.

Is Cadiz worth visiting? I enjoyed my time there, but with all traveling, there are hits and misses. I’ll take the hit on this, and perhaps you can take the miss. But then again - - -

In full transparency - this article was first published by the Daily Press Newspaper - Beyer's Byways

The not forgotten town of Goffs

 According to Laura Hammonds, the executive director of the Mojave Desert Heritage and Cultural Association, (that is one long title, she has), nearly 3,000 people visit the center each year in Goffs.

People visit so they can learn history - a good thing

Hmmm, what is Goffs? Anyone driving east or west along Highway 40 knows the turn off for Goffs Road. It’s that exit with a certain gas station, won’t say the name but it charges a wee bit higher price for gas than anywhere else. That’s okay – capitalism works and supply and demand is the root of capitalism. But here’s a thought – check your gas gauge before leaving Barstow or Needles. You may be able to afford your kids’ college if you do. Now, I’m a financial whiz.

Back to Goffs.

Goffs, like many of the small towns or villages along Route 66, has an interesting history. And like many, the towns or villages are now non-existent, or very small when it comes to the number of humans living there.

“I’d say, that there are probably ten fulltime residents and maybe twenty-five during peak times,” Laura stated.

Must be very quiet in the desert at night, miles away from the rumble of Highway 40 to the south. Really quiet.

“You can hear a bat flapping its wings while it flies over the Piute Mountains, it’s so quiet here.” That wasn’t really a quote from Laura. I made it up, as I sometimes do – but it must be pretty silent at night – except for one thing:

The railroad that is literally in the town itself. 

“The Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad Goffs crossing is here. The train crosses Route 66 right here at Goffs,” Laura told me. Yes, that’s a real statement, and not one I made up.

That wonderful creation, the railroad which brings us so many of the things we need to make life bearable, sweeps through Goffs at all hours of the day and night, tooting its horn. Things like medicine, food staples, stuff we buy that we don’t really need, and personal hygiene supplies like toilet paper – yes, toilet paper. 

No one will forget the year 2020 – when it wasn’t unusual to see people stop at traffic lights, roll down their windows and ask the driver in another vehicle – Pardon me, but do you happen to have Charmin Ultra-Soft?

Goffs was originally named, Blake, in 1893 after Isaac Blake, who was the builder of the Nevada Southern Railway. That name was later changed to the California Eastern Railway and that was changed to something else even later on and that changed to something else still later. Seems, as with so many things in life, change is inevitable. And so it is with names of railroads. Today, it is the Santa Fe Railroad for short, and so far that name has stuck. But, who knows what tomorrow may bring? And a rose by any other name…

And the research is not conclusive as to where the name for Goffs name actually originated, but the railroad was using names in an alphabetical way for stops along the tracks. Let’s call this one Goffs? Have no idea why, but won’t it be fun a long time from now having people guessing its origin? There you go, future folks!

My lovely spouse, Laureen, likes to think that Goffs was named after the author Helen Lyndon Goff, who wrote the magical nanny story, Mary Poppins, under the pen name P. L. Tavers. And she says I have an imagination. But who knows?

The history of Goffs goes way back, to when this area saw the likes of Francisco Garces, the first non-native in 1776. The Spanish friar and explorer was looking for an easy passage east and west through the Mojave Desert and spent considerable time not far from present day Goffs. 

In fact, Garces desert route is what we know today as the Mojave Road – that stretch of isolation on which off-roaders love to spend time. I drove that stretch a few years back, in the summer, of course, with only one vehicle, of course – and lived to tell about it. Thanks Friar Garces – in my heart, he’s a saint for watching over not the brightest of desert travelers.

Then the adventurer, Jedediah Smith came through the area twice, once in 1826 and again in 1827, also looking for a route through the oftentimes difficult desert terrain. On one of those adventures, it is believed that Smith was running for his life from the direction of the Colorado River, chased by a group of angry natives. I wasn’t there, but it is a good story all the same. 

Goffs played an important role delivering water for the steam engines on the main line to Barstow. Situated only thirty miles from Needles made this location – at the top of the hill – to be the ideal watering stop for trains. By 1911, there were enough Santa Fe workers and their families to warrant the building of a school house, which was built in 1914.

The school house still stands, and can be visited on the museum grounds, run by the MDHCA – Mojave Desert Heritage and Cultural Association. Along with the school house, there are many exhibits detailing the history of this once thriving town on Route 66.

Site of the once thriving school house

The grounds contain many interesting displays of bygone days

Like any town along the route, simple paths became wagon trails, then railroad lines and eventually the dirt paths along those railroad lines were paved. And, there you have a road for that contraption called a car.

The United States Army built a training center in the area during WWII called Camp Goffs. It served its purpose until 1944.

According to Laura, “Because of the availability of water and good rail service an entire division was here at Goffs at one time. People can still find military artifacts throughout the Goffs area.”

We all love finding trinkets on our adventures, but if you come across a rusty pointed munitions thingy – please leave it alone. A military button, belt buckle or an abandoned tank, okay – a bomb, not so much.

“Everything that happened in the West, happened here. Mining, homesteading, cattle ranching, railroad, and Route 66. It all happened in Lanfair Valley,” stated Laura.

Yes, Goffs is located in Lanfair Valley. According to Wikipedia, Lanfair Valley is drained southeastwards, then due south by the Sacramento Wash, which then turns due-east and combines with the Piute Wash drainage. The dual valley drainage is a U-shape, and the first major dry wash drainage from the west, into the Colorado River, south of Lake Mead.

I have no idea what that means exactly, but the area sure is pretty.

Goffs’ largest building, the general store, is abandoned but still standing – unfortunately it has been vandalized and graffitified – I made that word up, but looks like it should be entered into Merriam Webster’s book. 

What was once the general store in Goffs

Goffs is definitely worth a visit. The museum opens in October, which is a wonderful time of year to visit anything in the desert. When did I visit? The summer – who’d think that? 

 In full transparency - this story first appeared in the Daily Press Newspaper, under Beyer's Byways.

Holcomb Valley - gold and beauty

The valley is located in the San Bernardino Mountains, in Southern California

When I was a young boy, in the 20th century, my father took me gold panning in the San Bernardino Mountains in the early spring. We spent countless hours on this stream or that stream and finally, after those countless hours, my father stated, “It’s all been played out.”

I didn’t know what that meant, unless he was mentioning how I would tucker-out after playing sports all day with my friends.

“He’s played out.”

My mother would nod her head. “He looks played out.”

Turns out, what he meant was there was no gold to be found where we had been panning.

That wasn’t the case in May of 1860, when gold was found in those same San Bernardino Mountains by William F. Holcomb and Ben Choteau – wonder why it was named Holcomb Valley later on? Perhaps Ben’s last name sounded like somewhere one would spend the weekend in the French winery in the country.

Thar’s gold in them hills!

Anyway, gold was found by these two gentlemen, and like any gold discovery secrecy was not very secret.

“You know, Holcomb found gold right beneath the surface up in the mountains,” a miner stated to another miner – I wasn’t there for this conversation.

“What about Choteau?”

“I think he’s introducing a new vintage of Chardonnay soon.”

An arrastre, where the miners ground the quartz into manageable pieces

With the news of the gold, literally being dug out of the ground in the valley just north of present day Big Bear Lake, prospectors flooded the area looking for their own dreams of riches.
It should be noted, that gold was considered a precious metal during those days, not like today. No one would desire a gold necklace, earrings or bracelet during these enlightened times we now live. That would be just a waste of sparkly minerals and be so personally shallow.

Laureen, are you reading this?

Within months, the area boasted a population of 1,500 people. That doesn’t sound like a lot of folks, but it was. Considering the hardship these pioneers had to endure just to reach the mountain top from the San Bernardino valleys far below this was a lot of people.

Holcomb valley is rich in beauty, not just gold

Seems there is a theme when I write many of these articles, the fortitude and strength these adventurers showed is truly awe inspiring.

To get to Holcomb Valley today, we simply drive up in our comfy vehicles, turn on to a dirt road and within a short time are motoring around a beautiful serene mountain valley. Lush, with green grasses, willowy bushes, and tall proud pines.

This gold discovery occurred just a short decade after California had become a state. This new and very large piece of real estate was a titch over 2,600 miles from the capital of the United States in Washington D.C.  This was really new land for exploring – all of these pioneers were a tough breed to venture so far from ‘civilized’ civilization on the east coast.

But even prior to Holcomb and Choteau, this valley, as well as the Big Bear Valley – before it was known as such, was the part-time residence of the Serrano Native American’s. They would migrate to the mountains during the late spring and summer months to get out of the heat of the below deserts or lands near modern day San Bernardino. Here they would hunt, gather food stuffs and fish in the mountain creeks. With the coming of the cold winter, they would travel off the mountain and back to the deserts below.

Then, around 1845 a posse of about twenty men, led by Benjamin Wilson – who would be the grandfather of General George S. Patton - rode into Big Bear Valley chasing a couple of outlaws, who had been raiding ranches in what would later become the city of Riverside. Not sure if they caught the desperadoes, but what they did find was the land crawling with Grizzly Bears – thus how Big Bear obtained its current name.

Yes, I wrote – Grizzly Bears, as in grizzles!

The hunt for bear skins was on and, unfortunately, research indicates that around 1906 the last Grizzly Bear was killed in the mountains. In October of 1916, supposedly, the last Grizzly Bear was killed in California by a farmer by the name of Cornelius B. Johnson in Los Angeles County.
Strange that the Grizzly Bear was named California’s official State Animal in 1953. Humans wiped them out – perhaps it was a way of saying, Hey, we’re sorry.

We're sorry for wiping you out - forgive us?

Back to Holcomb Valley.

With that discovery of gold, and the secret out, the valley was soon swarming with miners, shop owners, gamblers, whiskey suppliers, and all kinds of other folks who saw there were other ways of making a fortune without getting their fingernails dirty.

The town of Belleville, was born in the booming Holcomb Valley. Literally, the name was delivered by the birth of the first child in the valley named Belle. The citizens thought, in honor of this brave little girl coming into such a rough and tumble world, they would name the town after her.

Laureen looking out of the window of an early settler cabin

Belleville soon was the fourth largest town in Southern California, but with many of the unsavory characters who found their way up the mountain, it also became a rather desperate place to live. True frontier justice – that’d be vigilante justice, was the norm for the day to try to corral these bad hombres.

Hang in there Belle!

The gold kept coming and the miners kept digging. Soon, this area was producing the most gold and wealth of any other mining area in Southern California.

But with all things golden, the time for Belleville started to decline and by 1870 most of the population had moved on for other golden opportunities. Soon, nothing was left but a valley scarred by the remnants of past mining activities amidst one or two reminders that humans once resided here.
A drive through the valley is well worth the time. There is an interpretative guide that can be picked up at the Big Bear Discovery Center in Fawnskin, which will point out some pretty interesting places in Holcomb Valley – a miner’s cabin, a slag pile from past gold diggings, an arrastre, and so many other sites to view.

John standing in the same settler cabin, looking oh so cool

So, get out of the heat of the desert and take a historical drive through Holcomb Valley or a mountain valley near you - if there is one. When Laureen and I went, it was twenty-one degrees cooler. That alone is worth the drive, when the summer sizzles and the thermometer is reaching a hundred and seventy degrees.

Stay cool, our friends.