The Mojave Stretch and the Night of Stars
Crossing the Mojave Desert is a test of endurance for both machine and man. By the time we hit the endless straightaways of Interstate 40 through California’s high desert, the temperature gauge was flirting with the danger zone again, and shimmering heat waves danced across the asphalt like phantom rivers.
We pulled off at a remote scenic overlook near Amboy, miles from the nearest town, just as the sun began to set in a blazing riot of crimson and gold.
We set up two folding lawn chairs behind the RV, opened a couple of canned sodas, and watched the desert sky transform from orange to indigo, then to a vast, velvety black canvas dotted with millions of brilliant stars. Without city lights for a hundred miles, the Milky Way arched across the heavens like a spilled river of diamonds.
“I used to look at stars like that from the bridge of the destroyer,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Out in the middle of the Atlantic during the Cold War. You feel awfully insignificant out there.”
