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Published: August 19th 2005
Los Angeles and we had some work to do, we’d decided not to travel further North to Seattle, Vancouver or Anchorage and began our search for a vehicle in the city of dreams. Our dream seemed to be an endless tour around hundreds of used car lots until, after nearly two weeks and nearly throwing the towel in, we found what we wanted (if it doesn't last the distance we'll claim it was bought in frustration!).
Inglewood was our home for the first week, the area around LAX is not the nicest but the people were friendly enough, saying things like "JESUS!! TOURISTS?! HERE?!", "Yeah man, come to Inglewood, come see the crime scene." and "Oh God...watch out for your wallet." A few trips on the local buses, which were pretty reliable and not as dangerous as some guidebooks suggest, made us realise that a rental car would allow us to cover much more of LA and find what we were after, so we went for the cheapest we could find. After hanging around for nearly two hours and then being given a filthy car, the guys at Enterprise (that's a plug but they were very good) took pity on
Checking the car over
Don't get that 'tache caught in the fan belt...us and gave us a huge Dodge Ram pickup for the same price.
I had a fair idea of what we should be looking for in a vehicle but didn't have a clue about the local market. We obviously wanted relibility, reasonable mileage and a clean title (basically meaning that the car isn't a write-off or stolen). Further to this, and based on how we like to travel, I wanted four wheel drive, good ground clearance and an easily fixable engine. Heart was saying British and Range Rover (for some reason Defenders are few and far between and very expensive here, the Discovery is quite common but still expensive), but the examples we'd seen probably wouldn't have got us out of the car lot and I couldn't imagine there being a great deal of knowledge of these in El Salvador. Then there were the huge American pickups, but at 15 gallons to the mile maybe a little thirsty for us. No, it had to be Japanese, probably a Toyota Land Crusher or 4Runner. So we knew the vehicle and flanked by my deputy (in charge of working out if the passenger seat reclines enough for her to sleep) we
Almost dead in Death Valley
With temperatures in the high 120s, it was pretty tough going. set about trying to work out the market.
The whole experience of searching for a vehicle was akin to being in a movie, the characters we met while touring the lots were fantastic, all loyal to their sterotypes and apparently auditioning for their next role as fast talking but slightly shady car dealer leading double life as gangster/drug dealer/pimp. It was amusing to see all these hard-nuts seemingly initimidated by us, the banter worth double the time spent. I guess the most bizarre was watching as a dealer broke into his car so we could take it for a test drive. Private sales were better still, given an address to meet where the occupants had never even heard of the seller, who would eventually roll up with a car clearly on it's second identity.
In between all of this we found the time to visit some of the better known areas; Long Beach, Santa Monica, Venice, Hollywood; in fact we're now very familiar with most of the cities within LA. A walk along Venice beach is worth the time just to take in the atmosphere and marvel at the bizarre characters that are drawn to this place. We
celebrated 4th July getting to know some locals in a bar in Hermosa beach, in fact we just sat there while they repeatedly joked about "...celebratin' kickin' you guys outta our country." The evening was complete following a bar brawl between the owner and a regular, a trip to an illegal bar with our new found friends and a 5am "Where the hell are we? How do we get back?" moment.
Finally we found our wheels, it really was the last one we were going to look at and after calling the trader all seemed ok. A little different to the other traders we'd met, Mario lives among an ever increasing heap of almost cars and doesn't seem entirely motivated to sell anything, even though you agree a time to meet you have to shout through his seven feet tall fence to wake him up, you then put up with the ferocious barking of his four inch tall guard dog that could clearly stride through the bars of the said fence (but is a bit scared)...oh yes and he (Mario) is slightly neurotic...and Italian. He listened to our requirements, suggested a 1986 Toyota 4Runner and after a test drive,
mechanical inspection, prolongued price negotiation and comical, over-emotional "I'm not selling" "Well we're not buying" argument between he and Rachel...we went for it.
Mario's friend Lee, who runs a garage next door, was a genuine and honest mechanic who, apart from a few minor tweaks, gave the car the all clear. He also reassured us that Mario, despite giving signals that he hates selling cars and would rather sleep all day, was actually a trustworthy trader, I think I agree.
The beurocracy surrounding the licensing of vehicles in California meant that we had a couple of weeks to kill before picking up the registration and title documents, so we bought some camping gear and headed up the coast for a few days of barbecues and beach camping. La Jolla beach, where we first camped, is not the nicest but at least we had the priviledge of a daily show from the dolphins, seals and pelicans as they travelled up and down the coast. The conditions were not what we had in mind with sea fog and strong winds keeping the temperatures down, a quick trip around Ventura's harbor, pier and beaches and we could stand the cloud cover
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley
We managed to find another crazy tourist braving the heat to get this picture taken. no more...we wanted heat.
A word of advice; don't travel through Death Valley during a heat wave, and definitely don't camp there.
The temperatures increased as we ventured inland, a night camping at the beautiful Lake Casitas had perhaps the best conditions. From there - Death Valley, and we really got the heat we were after, 130°F to be precise, the record is 134°F back in 1913. It's very dangerous territory, well indicated by Rachel blacking out a couple of times, once while driving (I really do take the best care of her). We found a site near Stovepipe Wells and pitched camp in the comfortable dusk breeze. It didn't stay comfortable for long, the ground retains the heat from the day and in turn heats anything in contact with it, the cooling breeze became the equivalent of several hairdryers and our airbed turned into a hot plate, the temperature that night didn't go below 100°F...not much sleep.
The next day we toured around the sites that hadn't been closed after the damaging floods of last year. The place is extraordinary, once you get over the scenic beauty and the intrigue of the place names (Last Chance
Range, Furnace Creek, Hell's Gate) you're then hit with the realization that people, and wildlife, actually live and survive here.
We finished our tour at Badwater basin, 282ft below sea level and the lowest land point in the Western hemisphere. The conditions were really getting to Rachel and we weren't that far from a place that would suck all the money rather than water out of us, Las Vegas. So we pushed on.
What did we do before air conditioning? Vegas was obviously cooler than Death Valley but still hit 120°F, so the hotel room and swimming pool were more than welcome. I thought I'd hate it, but I actually quite liked this town and we both enjoyed touring up and down the strip and losing as little money as we could. The architecture is unbelievable - who the hell thought of, let alone desiged and built, a replica of the New York skyline complete with Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty and rollercoaster, all as a self contained hotel/casino? The development apparently isn't slowing either, plots in and around the strip as well as on the outskirts of town are changing hands for big money.
If you
Badwater Basin
130°F, 282ft below sea level... travel a couple of miles away from the strip you'll find more casinos with great deals. Sat at a casino bar we met a trio of locals who claimed they weren't addicted to gambling "We only come here on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday". They had enough loyalty points to keep plying us with free drinks and kept staring at, and feeding, the poker machines at the bar, while holding a conversation. Even with coaching we were still rubbish and left when they started talking about gambling for my tshirt.
Amongst all our high-roller gambling action I found some free time to tour the industrial estates, in an attempt to try and make the vehicle more secure for the Central American leg. I'm not sure I'd trust an unshaven out-of-towner who pitches up rambling on about banditos and toyotas, but to a person everyone was extremely generous, lending me tools and allowing me to rummage around their yards looking for who knows what...nice people. Rachel sunbathed.
Our last day in Vegas, we took advantage of $10 each of free casino credit. We won, big time...well, about $25. Buoyed with our new found wealth we had a slap-up meal
The Last Supper
We stumbled across this sculpture in Rhyolite, a ghost town on the outskirts of Death Valley. and went to a trendy bar, refused entry because of no id we were both flattered until the 63 year old lady behind us was also denied entry.
On the road again and just after crossing the California State border we took a left and entered the Mojave Desert. Again, stunning scenery in a forbidding landscape, driving through forests of Joshua trees with ancient cinder cones as a backdrop we were heading for a mountain campsite that would at least be a little cooler than the desert floor. Very recent flash floods had damaged the dirt road sufficiently to make it impassable so our destination for the following morning, the Kelso sand dunes, became our campsite for the night. With just enough time before sunset we climbed the dunes for a quick sand blast and the most amazing views of the Providence and New York mountain ranges.
Back to LA, we managed to catch up with Mary and Ronnie which was a real boost - seeing familiar faces, even those that I haven't seen for so long, really help on a long trip. Then things seemed to pick up pace, to our surprise everything had come good with
Another Sculpture, Rhyolite
The exhibits are in Gold Well Open Air Museum a project of the late Belgian artist Albert Szukalski the paperwork and, true to his word, Mario had the title document and registration ready to go - he even kept his word about providing replacement brake pads and seemed to enjoy ordering me around as I changed them. We declined his offer of accommodation for the evening and pushed south for the Mexican border reaching Oceanside and a motel for the evening.
The Mexican border is just a half hour drive from here so we picked up some insurance and went for it. All we have to remember now is to go through the exit formalities from the States before crossing the border...oh bugger, we've missed it...
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