Martian Mojave

10,000 years old, the Amboy Crater looks like it erupted yesterday

This morning I stared at some new photographs taken by the rover Curiosity on the surface of Mars.   If you haven't done so, I recommend you check them out.  They are stunningly beautiful.   The person who posted the photos on the web commented that they reminded her of Arizona's desert terrain.  I, a frequent visitor to the Grand Canyon State, begged to differ.   They, however, are peculiarly similar to the terrain in California's Mojave Desert.  

For those who have reason to travel on the I-40 westbound in California, take the first opportunity to get off the easy route and jump on the famous Route 66.  One of my favorite ghostly roadside attractions bakes on the arid and desolate stretch of the Mother Road Amboy, California.  Amboy, once known for its often photographed, perfectly shaped volcanic cinder cone, is also the home to a recognizable film locale known as Roy’s Café.  Horror movie trivia fans can readily identify this out-of-the-way place.  Boarded and shuttered for some time, Roy’s has been resuscitated along with the rest of this remote site by a wealthy and nostalgic dreamer.  He purchased the entire town and put some real money into it.   It’s doubtful it will rival Las Vegas anytime soon, but it’s nice to see a once often visited stop cheer up with some fresh paint and a revived attitude.

Just east of Amboy, in Chambless, the few loners who survive out there haven’t yet discovered their monetary savior.   Their luck still waits under some undiscovered four leaf clover.  At this insignificant intersection, on a lightly traveled and forbidding ribbon of melting asphalt, is the ramshackle building and its accompanying, towering sand blasted sign welcoming all to the decrepit Roadrunner’s Retreat.  This forlorn spot was once a café and rest stop for the weary and hot when iconic Route 66 was the only way to navigate this section of the Mojave Desert.  The Roadrunner’s creosote bush and cholla choked parking lot, from which the long darkened and faded neoclassic sign rises, must have once seen countless cars filled with desert voyagers pulling in to fill up with gas or grab a cold drink and a sandwich.  Not so now.  The barren and windblown property attracts only shutter bugs and nostalgic wanderers pining for days past. 

The aged, deserted section of Route 66 carries only the adventurous crowd now.  The common traveler can’t be bothered.  He or she sticks to the modernity of the teeming I-40 beyond the hills to the north.  That’s too bad.  The detour, if just taken once in a life, is worth it.  In the setting reds, oranges and purples of a Mojave evening, with a huge moon rising like a plate over the surrounding mountains, an observer can’t help but be taken in by the beauty and think of an orange and red world millions of miles away. 

Amboy's sister city 120,000,000 miles, on average, from us