And now the high mountains.

 John (Chapter 12 page 123  referred to:  Holbrook and Winslow and Flagstaff in the high mountains of Arizona. Then the great plateau rolling like a ground swell. Ashfork and Kingman, and stone mountains again, where water must be hauled and sold. Then out of the broken sun-rotted mountains of Arizona to the Colorado, with green reeds on its banks, and that's the end of Arizona. There's California just over the river, and a pretty town to start it. Needles, on the river. But the river is a stranger in this place. Up from Needles and over a burned range, and there's the desert. And 66 goes on over the terrible desert, where the distance shimmers and the black center mountains hang unbearably in the distance. At last there's Barstow, and more desert until at last the mountains rise up again, the good mountains, and 66 winds through them. Then suddenly a pass, and below the beautiful valley, below orchards and vineyards and little houses, and in the distance a city. And, oh, my God, it's over.

The people in flight streamed out on 66, sometimes a single car, sometimes a little caravan. All day they rolled slowly along the road, and at night they stopped near water. In the day ancient leaky radiators sent up columns of steam, loose connecting rods hammered and pounded. And the men driving the trucks and the overloaded cars listened apprehensively. How far between towns? It is a terror between towns. If something breaks-well, if something breaks we camp right here while Jim walks to town and gets a part and walks back and-how much food we got?

Listen to the motor. Listen to the wheels. Listen with your ears and with your hands on the steering wheel; listen with the palm of your hand on the gear-shift lever; listen with your feet on the floor boards. Listen to the pounding old jalopy with all your senses; for a change of tone., a variation of rhythm may mean-a week here? That rattle-that's tappets. Don't hurt a bit. Tappets can rattle till Jesus comes again without no harm. But that thudding as the car moves along-can't hear that-just kind of feel it. Maybe oil isn’t gettin' someplace. Maybe a bearing's startin' to go. Jesus, it's a bearing, what'll we do? Money’s goin’ fast.

And why's the son-of-a-bitch heat up so hot today? This ain't no climb. Le's look. God Almighty, the fan belt’s gone! Here, make a belt outa this little piece a rope. Le's see how long-there. I'll splice the ends. Now take her slow--slow till we can get to a town. That rope belt won’t last long.

'F we can on'y get to California where the oranges grow before this here ol' jug blows up. 'F we only can.

And the tires-two layers of fabric worn through. O’y a four-ply tire. Might get a hunderd miles outa her if we don't hit a rock an' blow her. Which'Il we take-- a hunderd maybe, miles, or maybe spoil the tubes. Which? A hunderd miles. We’ll that’s somepin you got to think about. We got tube patches. Maybe when she goes she'll only spring a leak. How about makin' a boot? Might get five hunderd more miles. Le's go on till she blows.

We got to get a tire, but, Jesus, they want a lot for a tire. They look a fella over. They know he got to go on. They know he can't wait. And the price goes up.

So Mr. Steinbeck (quoted from the Penguin Modern Classics edition published in 2000) wrote of the Joad family experiences of the Mother Road  in the Grapes of Wrath (required reading for those joining this trip. Those of you paying careful attention to yesterday’s Blog will have wondered why we were putting air in the tyre. It did not work. Nothing of the drama of the Joad family but our little group discovered that the data system on the Acadia was again telling us the Left RR Tyre needed air.    We had a slow puncture. Just as we were heading into the mountains and desert.  After breakfast in the Roadkill  restaurant we headed out across to the Garage to get ice and to check the tire (sic) shop.  The latter was closed: turned out though that the cashier in the garage was his Mam and she checked why he was not open at 08:00 as usual. (On a wet night in Boston, the Redsox are down 3:2 to LAA down bottom of ninth). Turned out he had gone off for the day with his Dad. But the garage across the road also did tires. (Boston 3:2; 1 out at 3rd, runner on 2^nd)

He was very obliging and has our car up on a jack, the wheel off and discovered a screw  settled in the rubber. As we (or most of us) waited in the shade he sorted us out. Cost $17 – call it €15 – Great, thanks: keep the $20. Oh! thanks: have a good day. And we were off.

Text from office: sorted. Turn that phone off!

Back on the Route.

We rolled on to Hackberry (Boston 3:2, Runner on 2^nd , 2 out, 2 and 2) and the old general store which host  a remote and quaint general store which provided many photo opportunities.  And finally Seamus found a hat he liked!

Piled back in the car. It’s getting hotter and away again. On to Kingman. There, as one might expect, the best museum and tribute to the mother Road which we have encountered so far and indeed are likely to encounter, was found at the Power House.   We spent some time there where the old photographs, storylines and displays told the story of the road and the difficulties of early travellers through to the tourism attraction is became.  Regrettable, this evening over dinner we agreed it will struggle to remain so. However then we ran (literally, and in increasing heat) across 66 to Mr D’s diner. Brilliant. In wonderfully bright 1950’s style it has the atmosphere of a 1950s diner and great food. The malts are the best ever.

OK, onward once more. Into the mountains. Through the winding tight u-bends to climb to the summit of the Sitgreaves Pass. Some drive. Expertly handled by Seamus who felt Kerry had much the same challenge to offer. (3:3 bottom of 10^th).

We took on the steep descent into Oatman (where the hotel, we discovered last night – was closed for renovations – not sure what the story is : the young woman supposed to be overseeing the sale of mementoes at the hotel said the owners were tired after last week’s bike rally and had closed for the week). Anyway we wandered with the other tourists among the burros and had an ice cream before setting off to Needles in CA.

The need to stop for inspection at the Californian border surprised us. It is an agricultural station checking for foods being brought in. We said we had none. Questioned about an ice box we confirmed we had one. Could we pop the trunk. Sure.  Opened the ice box. Wow! Well stocked you guys. No fruit or veg though so on our way.  Check in the Grapes how the Oakies fared in the last century and wonder how differently, if at all, the immigrants on the M50 roundabout did in this century when Ireland was doing well. (Bottom 9^th 2 outs, runners on 1^st and third; Sox have winning run 90 feet from plate; 2-0)

From there it was a straightforward run to (not for Sox though, now gone to 11^th  at 2am on East coast) to Needles. Checked in; revised plans for next few days. 93 degrees (chilly night in Boston now 3:3 top of 11th, runner at 2nd 0-2, 1 out) . Had dinner. Watched baseball game while writing Blog. 

Tomorrow Baghdad Café? (as above but now 2 out)

Foot short of top of Green Monster, tried for score out at home base, now 2 out 0-2 runners at 1 and 3rd. Now 23:30 on West coast: gone to 13th inning. Internet too slow ot upload any more video. Good night and good morning! 

Lads checked Blog: spotted typos. Changed them. Now 5-3 bottom of 13th 0-1 no outs.

02:45 Boston; 23:45 Needles, 07:45 Dublin.  3 out no score. 5:3 LAA. Damn Boston 6/1 for season against them though..