January 24, 2022
To Borrego Springs
Somehow Borrego Springs just keeps fitting into our plans. It has a few outstanding rides that we are happy to repeat every year or two, but also it benefits from location. Roughly a six hour drive from Tucson, it provides the best spot for breaking up the drive west to the California coast.
The plan was to get up early and arrive in Borrego Springs in the early afternoon, early enough for us to take a hike up into Palm Canyon after we arrive. That plan goes out the window though when we find Rachael limping around the room this morning, walking on her toes of her left foot to protect her heel which somehow has gotten bruised. She must have stepped on a rock wrong or something without noticing it, but in any case taking a hike on a rocky trail through the desert sounds like poor therapy.
Instead we hang around the room for a couple of hours, engaged in our latest spare time activity - booking lodging for the spring tour. We started this a week or so ago and are gradually working our way north through France. It’s a delicious activity taken in small bites, picking out lodging in towns and villages we’ve visited before and are eager to see again. Figueres! Collioure! Ceret!! Uzes! Ooh, Roussillon!! We’ve never overnighted in Roussillon, one of the most colorful villages in Provence.
Finally it’s time. We cram the Raven, tidy up the requisite amount, say our goodbyes to a place we frankly won’t miss too much, and are off.
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Not much to say about the drive - a long, fast, generally straight drive west - first on I-10 and then the quieter, nearly empty I-8 until we finally cut north to Borrego Springs. There’s not much but desert between Tucson and the Imperial Valley except for Yuma, where we stop to gas up the car and have a quick bite at a Burger King - the first fast-food burger I’ve had in close to a year, I imagine.
We’re staying at a new-to-us place in Borrego Springs this time - the Borrego Springs Motel, a no nonsense affair on the edge of the desert just north of the Circle at the center of the village. We’ll spend the next four nights here in our small, box-like room. Not much space to move around, but it will be fine - maybe perfect, really. It’s ultra-quiet - there’s only one other guest here tonight - the setting can’t be beaten, and there’s a table and chairs out front where I can enjoy a beer and watch the sun go down if I get started early enough - we’ve changed time zones and suddenly sundown is about five now and it cools down rapidly after that.
We drive the short distance to Red Ocotillo for dinner. It’s close enough that we could easily walk, but we’re protecting Rachael’s heel still and we have to make a run to the store for milk afterwards. When we return to our motel it’s fully dark out. The sky is clear, save for billions of stars.
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