The Final Word...

May 16

It's been a long time since I've dusted off this particular writing format, (and posted publicly) but my most recent experience and excursion has inspired me to share. Hello, again...

My path to Vegas is well worn. I've traveled the barren stretch of I-15 through canyons and desert many times on my way back and forth to the City of Sin. So after my most recent visit, I decided to jump off and explore the (at times unpaved) road less traveled.

Ever heard of Zzyzx Road? It's a mysterious and oft Snapchatted road-sign on the interstate between Las Vegas and Los Angeles. I am amused by it upon every passing and with a teensy bit of research, decided to make it a stop on my way back to LA.

I'm glad that I did.

There's nothing at the intersection with the interstate to indicate there is anything to see at this exit, but I knew better. Upon entering the Mojave Desert Preserve and just beyond a five mile stretch of dried salt riverbed, there lie a desert oasis. Sulfur Springs, a mirage of green and water that has been neglected and, for the most part, absolutely abandoned.

The dilapidated site of Sulfur Springs lies surrounded on three sides by mountains, looking out onto the wide, dry, salt plains of the Mojave Desert, and cloaked from the view and noise of the interstate. The short story is this: After some scheming, a self-proclaimed doctor, medicine-man, and evangelist, Curtis Howe Springer (from my hometown, of course) created a health spa surrounding the historically steeped sulphur springs in 1944. He called it Zzyzx Mineral Springs Resort - so as to be "the last word in health". Yeah. Quackery ensued and the land was seized by the government, but not until 1974. You can read about it Here, and, you know, the internet.

Upon parking and entering the property on foot, I was happy to find the grounds are still lush and magical.

This crane was my only company as I walked the worn path around the old spring.

Exploring strange little time capsules is one of my favorite things to do. I love ruins of vacated houses, cemeteries, the places that time forgot and humans forgot to destroy. I enjoy exercising my imagination by recreating the environment and all the stories it must have lived inside my head. It's rare to find such a desolate slice of history and get to be left utterly alone to explore it. Being stalked only by lizards and, I'm sure, many unseen eyes, I snapped photos that did not do the eerie calm justice, to my hearts content... Blindly, I might add, as the glare from the bright cloudless sky was far too intense for me to see my darkened iPhone screen.

The heavy 96° heat hung just above the ground as the winds whipped from the plains and created a screaming silence from the mountains in the distance. I traipsed through the dust, dirt and brush to explore the dilapidated and long discarded quarters of the once majestic Sulfur Springs health spa. The dry, clumped earth crunched beneath my impractical footwear as I ventured to the very end of the trail behind the pool house and living quarters on the edge of the dry salt bed.

A room with a view.

Without a roof.

Not all the property is in ruin. The structures around the center of "town" have been maintained and are in use as classrooms and lodging today. The outcropping of adobe style buildings is now an outpost for the desert studies program, and although there are some signs and semblances of human life using the facilities, it is largely destitute and empty. I felt as though I was trespassing on the past as I snuck through the motionless streets around the occupied dwellings.

After I made a final lap around the property and started to drive back towards civilization, I was escorted by a flock of large crows. They may have been hoping for my demise, as I can't imagine anything surviving in the stark and inhospitable landscape surrounding the springs.

Giddy with adventure (and showtunes) and utterly annoyed with traffic - I decided to continue my day of exploration with a stop off at Peggy Sue's 50s Diner, just outside of Barstow. A delightful dose of delicious Americana on historic Route 66.

Cause who doesn't want to sip a pineapple malt under a giant dinosaur?

Next on my list is the abandoned waterpark just off the highway past Barstow -- not today.

I continued my meandering route home, avoiding gridlock and thereby encountering the most magnificent storm settling behind the mountains, but sadly never getting a taste of the rain.