Gristmill Bakery & Deli
We stayed up way too late watching the Mariners overcome the Cubs in extra innings at the Safe, and departed first thing Saturday morning. It takes about 16 hours to get down there if we take it easy, and stop frequently. Our daughter, Miss Kaila, was also traveling. She had left Arkansas a day prior, was on her way to transfer colleges to Evergreen State College in Olympia, and was on track to meet us in Grass Valley on Saturday evening. By the time we were in Portland, I begun to worry about her traversing the Mojave desert during the peak hours of the intense, record-breaking heat they were forecasting. She decided to take a detour, see the Grand Canyon, and maybe kill a few hours in Flagstaff, before continuing on, so she would end up traveling the hottest part of California, during the cooler, evening hours. Sounded like a great plan to me. We were in Southern Oregon when we got the call from the hospital. Kaila was in an automobile collision. My immediate thought was, of course that the worst had happened. I was driving, and Gaerin answered the phone. After the initial shock, I tried to keep calming, knowing she couldn't be hurt too bad if she was talking on the phone. but Gaerin wouldn't let me actually talk to her, until I pulled off the freeway and came to a stop. She was okay, for the most part, thank GOD!!! Sore, tired, stressed out and quite bruised, but OKAY! The next few hours were a whirlwind of calls, trying to figure out what kind of insurance coverage she had on her car, if the hospital was going to discharge her, and where she would go if they did, how she was going to get her dog, Cowboy back, and how we could get rid of this car, that was way too smashed up to try to take back to Washington.
The hospital discharged Kaila and put her in a hotel, where she could rest and recuperate for a couple nights, so we could make our way down to her. She was an easy walk to the Walmart and plenty of dining options, (including delivery pizza and Chinese food), so she was in good shape. We made it to Bam's (that's my Mother-In-Law's nickname) just before midnight. We crashed for the evening and took the next day to rest a bit before headed down the Flagstaff. Gaerin's buddy Josh came up for a visit that day, and Lex, my nephew Hunter, and Josh's boys, Hunter and Christian splashed and played and had fun all day long.
We were up with the chickens (which I was already missing) the next morning, headed to get my baby girl. Quick stop at the Bakery to say goodbye and grab a cup of coffee and a croissant, and we were on our way. We took California Highway 99 down to Bakersville before heading over to Barstow. We stopped at this cutest little place, it was called Bravo Farms . They have a huge treehouse, which Lex explored, a little chicken coop, where I got my chicken-fix feeding the chickens, and they had a talking parrot. I thought I made friends with him, he was saying "hello" very sweetly and moving slowly toward me, then out of nowhere he squaked and attacked my face!! Lucky there was a cage there!! They had several huge pork roasts on a spit in the middle of the outdoor seating area, and the salad I had, which had the roasted pork, was amazing. We also picked up some wonderful cheese and pomegranate wine. I haven't tried the wine yet, but I am looking forward to it!
After our beautiful little lunch break, we were off again. In Bakersfield we turned off on California Highway 58 toward Barstow. Near Tehachapi, we saw a train wreck! There was a freight train that had just derailed its center cars. It appeared to be livestock cars, so I sure hope they were empty. It must have just had happened because shortly thereafter we passed BNSF vehicles headed toward the wrecked train. Right before we arrived in Barstow, deeply entrenched in the Mojave Desert by now, traffic came to a halt. We were twenty to thirty cars behind the scene of an automobile collision! The first helicopter landed, then the second, then as they were landing the third, I jumped out and walked up to see what was going on! As I walked passed all the cars parked on the roadway in the 113 degree heat, I noticed all of them were standing with their vehicles. They looked at me oddly, like I was from another planet, like I was breaking some unwritten rule about minding my own business and staying with my own vehicle. I must have, however, liberated them because after giving me the strange looks, they all started following me. A little boy of about 12 joined me, because his mother said, "just be careful, and stay with her." Anyway, by the time I made it to head of the boiling column we had three helicopters down and completely blocking my view of the accident. There was a California Highway Patrol Officer chilling in his SUV, no doubt blasting his air conditioning. I knocked on his window and asked what was going on. He told me that it was a head on collision. One car was trying to pass another car, without enough distance. One person was dead, but that there was three helicopters was actually a good sign that it could have very well been much worse. When the helicopters took off, I had just enough time to get back to the truck before traffic started moving again. Of course I had to stop at every third or so car when I was asked over and over again, about what happened. By the time I made it back to the truck, I was seriously sick. I thought I was going to throw up. The heat was super intense and I didn't really feel it, well until I did, it came on very sudden. Gaerin said I was dehydrated, but I didn't understand how I could have been dehydrated when I never sweat, and he laughed at me and explained that in the desert, in 113 degree heat, your sweat actually evaporates faster than you can feel, so you dehydrate super quick. I guess I am just so spoiled to our beautiful wet mild Pacific Northwest Marine climate. When we drove past the crinkled up tin cans that supposedly used to be passenger cars, I felt very grateful that my daughters wreck hadn't been worse, and also grateful that we had been 30 cars back.
The drive to Flagstaff drug on. California is a really big state. Seriously. Shortly after we passed the Arizona border, we went through Kingman. Off in the hills to the immediate south the mountain was on fire. There was a red glow from afar, and as we got a little closer we could actually see the fire lines coming down the mountain. It was a eerie. I had just read about 19 firefighters who had recently parished in the Yarnell fire, which wasn't too far away from this one, in fact, at first I thought this was the Yarnell fire. It was strange going through this area, knowing this is where my Father grew up. When I was a little girl I remember visiting my Grandparents in Yarnell, and Kingman.
We arrived at Kaila's hotel around midnight. She must have been watching us on Friend Finder because before we even had the truck unloaded, she came walking her dog right up to us in the parking lot. I was so relieved to see that she was okay, and to have her with me, safe and sound. We were introduced to Cowboy, her very sweet and well-behaved terrier-esque doggie. Misty wasn't thrilled with the idea of another canine traveling companion. We got a room at the hotel she had been staying, it wasn't the Ritz, I think it was a Quality Inn in fact, but it was clean and really late so it sufficed.
Now this little car, a 1995 Mercury Tracer, was sold to her near her 16th birthday, for $600. She bought it from a friend of mine, who happened to be our super-talented body tech at the former Twin City Collision, in Stanwood. I knew she could trust Pete to give her a great first car, but I never dreamed that she would drive the car for three years, and across the country, and that it would eventually save her life. I will always be grateful to Pete. Amazing little car, purchased from an amazing guy!
