The Real Death Valley

I've only been to Death Valley National Park a couple of times and neither of those visits involved an overnight stay. There is definitely something about it that makes it simultaneously fascinating and repellent. The terrain is extremely rugged. That people roamed this area trying to make buck with mining claims says something about our culture, but I'm not sure what. Even these days, safely ensconced in a modern 4WD SUV with a full gas tank, I would think twice about driving most of the gravel roads, especially in the remote areas of the park. With even a minor vehicular problem you could find yourself in an unpleasant situation. And if it's July and you didn't really prepare properly for your visit, it can literally become a matter of life and death. And by all appearances, that is what happened to some German tourists in 1996. It made the news at the time, but I never heard or saw any mention of this story until very recently. Just something I stumbled across on the Net.

Remote area of western Death Valley National Park [35 52 31N, 116 58 57W]

The story is very simple: in October, 1996, a helicopter spotted a mini-van parked a couple of miles up a dry wash in a remote area of the western part of the park. This was suspicious because this location was not a legitimate road, certainly not for a mini-van. A ground investigation determined that the vehicle had experienced a minor accident that disabled it. A license check showed that the mini-van had been rented three months earlier by a German couple with two children, and had been reported stolen when it was not returned to the rental car company. A query to German officials revealed that the family had been reported missing by relatives when they ceased contact and had not returned to Europe on their scheduled flight from Los Angeles in late July.

Law enforcement assumed the worst -- that the family had tried to walk out but perished in the extreme heat. A massive search was organized and conducted over several weeks, and some perplexing clues were found (e.g. a notation by the family in a log book at a historic site many miles away, a beer bottle matching others from the vehicle but located in what would have been the "wrong" direction for getting back to civilization). Unfortunately, after extensive, carefully organized searches over a huge area, neither human remains nor additional clues were found. The search was abandoned. Some people theorized that the accident had been staged so the Germans could disappear, but there was no known motive for such a radical plan. Others knew that UFOs were involved. Whatever the case, the Germans had vanished. And that's how the story would end...

...until twelve years later, in the summer of 2008, when a southern Californian with an interest in desert exploration heard about the story. What happens after that, you'll have to read for yourself.

Sweet Home

I always thought Sweet Home was in Alabama. Lynyrd Skynyrd and all that. The USGS database lists the name as a "populated place" in Alabama, but on satellite imagery, I don't see much evidence of populace there at all. I did, however, see evidence of population in Sweet Home, Texas, a town that until recently, I did not know existed. Terry & I drove through it intentionally; it's far enough off the beaten path that few people pass through it by accident. So...why would someone drive through Sweet Home, Texas on purpose?

As you can see from this image, Sweet Home is near the town of Yoakum, a town that Terry and I happened to spend the night in recently (and yes, it was "on purpose"...we didn't break down there or anything like that... Terry wanted to visit the Double D Ranch outlet store...another interesting story...but I digress). I was definitely on board with spending the night in Yoakum because, as a Texas railroad history buff, Yoakum has special appeal. It was named for Benjamin Franklin Yoakum, perhaps the greatest railroad magnate from Texas. The town was founded in 1887 as the San Antonio & Aransas Pass (SA&AP) Railway built two rail lines through the area (one of which, shown as a black line in the image above, is now a major rail line for Union Pacific). At age 28, Yoakum was a Vice President of the railroad when the town was named for him. In 1889, he became the General Manager of the railroad and in 1890, he became its "receiver" when the railroad went bankrupt! How's that for working both ends of the deal? He reorganized the railroad, brought it out of receivership, and negotiated its sale to Southern Pacific. Yoakum moved on to the Gulf, Colorado & Santa Fe Railway and eventually to the St. Louis San Francisco ("Frisco") Railway. When the Frisco merged with the Rock Island railroad in 1905, Yoakum became the Chairman of the Board of both railroads. He later moved to New York, migrated into other businesses, and remained there until his death in 1929.

But what does this have to do with Sweet Home? The other former SA&AP line through Yoakum went to Hallettsville and eventually went all the way to Houston. This line passed through Sweet Home a short distance northeast of Yoakum (or...to be more precise...the railroad passed five miles south of the community of Sweet Home, and the townspeople relocated their town to be on the railroad!) It was great while it lasted, but Sweet Home eventually lost its railroad when portions of the line were abandoned in 1959.

After the abandonment, about five miles of Farm Road 318 was built directly on top of the former SA&AP railroad right-of-way, beginning in Sweet Home and ending at Mont, where the SA&AP right-of-way can be seen diverging from Farm Road 318 in the upper right corner of the image. Driving on highways that are built atop former rail lines is interesting. The highway doesn't follow the terrain; cuts and fills are used to flatten out the grade because trains don't go up and down hills, not in the sense that a highway might. And there are no short radius curves, only those of the long radius, sweeping variety. This particular highway is not a great example; the road is fairly short and the local topography eliminates the need for any spectacular fills and cuts. But it is a highway built on top of a railroad right-of-way, and since we were in the area, that was enough for me to decide to go to Sweet Home, Texas. Where the skies are blue.

The Crossroads

Looks like an ordinary urban intersection.

US 61 @ US 49, Clarksdale, Mississippi [34 11 42N, 90 33 51W]

Oldtimers from the country would call it a "crossroads". But this is not a crossroads, not by a long shot. This is "THE Crossroads". You know the one. The one Eric Clapton told you about. The intersection of Delta blues and rock & roll. Bob Dylan's ultimate destination as he headed south from his birthplace in Duluth, Minnesota down Highway 61. The magnet for Robert Plant and Jimmy Page as they went walking into Clarksdale, Mississippi. The  intersection of US highways 61 and 49 where Robert Johnson allegedly sold his soul to the devil for the ability to play blues music. His song "Cross Road Blues" never mentions that bargain, but I suppose that's not something you would advertise. When he recorded that song over Thanksgiving week in 1936, he was a long ways from Clarksdale -- at the Sheraton Gunter Hotel in San Antonio! OK...it wasn't a Sheraton back then, but it was a very nice downtown hotel. They still remember.

There's a monument to blues guitar located at the crossroads. The people of Clarksdale want to make sure you know where you are. And every few years, Eric Clapton takes the time and effort to make sure you never forget.

Bron-Yr-Aur

Millions (?) of people will read the title of this post and instantly know the subject. A few others will read it and have no clue. Which group are you in?

Here's a satellite image of the subject:

Vicinity of Machynlleth, Wales [52 36 10N, 03 52 04W]

Actually, Bron-Yr-Aur is the cottage at upper left...here's a closer view:

So...it still exists, at least as recently as April 19, 2009 when these satellite images were captured. It had no running water and no electricity back in 1970 when it served as a quiet hideaway for a couple of guys exhausted from worldwide travel. Perhaps it still doesn't. And perhaps the lack of conveniences back then served as motivation to get out of the cottage and stomp around the countryside, which in turn LED to many other inspirations that could be found over the hills and far away from the cottage. I wonder whatever happened to Strider...

Charles Simmons

A few years ago there was talk of Congress funding a $400M bridge in Alaska between two lightly populated locations. It was derisively christened the "Bridge to Nowhere", to be located between Ketchikan and Gravina Island. Every time I heard a news story about that bridge, I was reminded of one of the first articles I co-wrote/edited when I was the editor of Clearance Card, the quarterly journal of the Southwest Railroad Historical Society. It was about a land promoter, Charles Simmons, founding a new town in South Texas called Simmons City (promoters are required to have a big ego). Transportation options were limited in those days, so he figured he'd better start a railroad as well. It was simply an efficient means of bringing potential buyers to the willing seller, you understand. Otherwise, he had no use for a railroad. I like people who don't forget that they also need to solve the ancillary problems that impact the success of their main endeavor. Depending on your gauge, Simmons was somewhat successful in his initial endeavor, but ultimately the town dried up and disappeared. The only lasting remnant is the church, built in 1908, that still stands...as shown in these images.

Church in Simmons City, Texas [28 24 21N, 98 16 45W]

So why does the "Bridge to Nowhere" remind me of this story? Well...there was a mystery associated with the construction of Simmons' railroad because old aviation maps (and modern satellite photos) showed his railroad extending well south of its "known" southern terminus in Christine, Texas. Texas Railroad Commission records said that it never went south of Christine, but maps and photos show that it continued much further south and then...it just ended. Frankly, it looked like a Railroad to Nowhere.

Misawa

I traveled to Misawa Air Base in northern Japan in late October, 1985. This was only two years after Korean Air Lines Flight 007 was shot down by the Soviets in the Sea of Japan, not far from Misawa. Times were tense in those days. I suppose they still are...but for different reasons. My biggest fear on this trip was not the Russians -- it was flying to Misawa from Tokyo's "domestic" airport. Think back to the mid-80's and consider for a moment the difference between a major international airport, say DFW, and its nearby "domestic" counterpart, say Love Field. Now...suppose you have landed at DFW but speak only Japanese. You can probably find some translation help to get you to your hotel. And if you've chosen a major, downtown "international" hotel, you can probably find someone there to assist you during your overnight stay. They can no doubt get you into a taxi the next morning and direct the driver to take you to Love Field. But once you exit that taxi at Love Field...the next person you encounter is likely to be a Southwest Airlines ticket agent who might be able to figure out that you want to fly to Midland and who can surely process your credit card to pay for the ticket. But her sign language attempting to explain to you how to get through Security and where the gates are and how the flight is 30 minutes late, etc. will look like so much arm-waving. You are on your own...surrounded by a massive crowd that does not speak your language. This is what I expected at Haneda Airport after arriving at Narita Airport and spending the night at the New Prince Takanawa Hotel [where the sauce on the spaghetti I ordered in their Italian restaurant was -- I swear -- Wolf Brand Chili]. Even the "pay for your ticket in person" was true because, like Southwest, the flight to Misawa was on Toa Domestic Airways, a Japanese airline that did not "inter-line" with the major international carriers and thus my travel agent could not buy the ticket in advance (at least not through American's Sabre system). In those pre-internet days, travel was a bit dicier...

The doorman at the hotel got me into a taxi headed for Haneda, and moments thereafter, I had a good omen. The taxi driver turned the volume back up on his radio and we were suddenly listening to the 1985 World Series on US Armed Forces Radio! [Best I recall, this was a Wednesday morning, so it was probably game 3 played in the US on Tuesday night, Oct. 22nd, which also happened to be my niece Regan's 2nd birthday -- sorry I missed it, Regan!] As it turned out, the ticket agent at Haneda spoke decent English and I made the flight without difficulty. My work on base took me onto the roof of a building where I had a great view of the AN/FLR-9 antenna. Nice to see that it's still there...

[AN/FLR-9 at Misawa AB, 40 43 23N, 141 19 44E]

Scientology

So...how do you view Scientology from space? Good question, but not really the intent of this post. Recently I happened to read the Wikipedia page about L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. Seems like Scientology has been in the news a bit more recently, and I was curious about whatever happened to him. I still remember all the TV commercials from my college and early adult years advertising his book Dianetics. Sounded interesting and benign...those advertising people are slick...but I digress. Anyway, the article states that the last two years of his life was spent living in a motorhome parked on a 160-acre ranch he owned (or perhaps..."controlled", since he was living in "deep hiding"). The ranch was near Creston, California and the article has an oblique aerial photo of it. Having never heard of Creston, I decided to find out where it's located and see if I could spot the ranch. And here it is...!

2011 view of the ranch [35 27 13N, 120 30 07W]

When looking at this image, I was curious as to what the double diamond construction in the oval might represent, but then I noticed the imagery date was 2011. Hubbard died in 1986, so the ranch may not have looked quite like this at the time. Google has historical imagery dating to 1994...and that imagery looks considerably different.

1994 view of the ranch [35 27 13N, 120 30 07W]