Road trip Archives - Maggie InkMaggie Ink

Road trip: Underground adventure at Mitchell Caverns in the Mojave Desert

January 9, 2023

The guide prepped us with a countdown of “Three, two, one …”

Instantly, we were plunged into the blackest darkness I’ve ever experienced. A darkness so complete, it felt thick. I put my hand in front of my face, and not only was I unable to see it, I wondered if my hand still existed.

Just when I felt like I might be falling through space, my son wrapped his arms around my legs. A moment later, the guide turned on the small lights that illuminated the path.

I quickly reoriented myself. Ahead of me, cave. Behind me, cave. Above me, you guessed it. Cave.

It’s a good thing I’m not the kind of person who gets claustrophobic in confined spaces. Rather, I’m the kind of person who, when faced with darkness, potentially loses their own body.

I was standing in the deepest point of Mitchell Caverns, an adventurous Southern California road trip destination within two hours’ drive from Barstow and a fun add-on for camping trips in the surrounding area.

The caverns are named for Jack Mitchell, who bought claims to the land and sounds a bit like a sunbaked, desert version of P.T. Barnum. Back in 1934, he and his wife, Ida, built stone structures by hand on the property and ran a small resort that included tours of the caves. They also developed the road that led from Route 66 to the caverns, approximately 22 miles, and turned it into a popular attraction.

On view are two main caves: “El Pakiva,” the Devil’s House, and “Tecopa,” named for a Shoshone chief. There’s a third cave, but it’s deep and dangerous, and at this point it’s off limits to the public.

The tour enters through the “eyes of the mountain” and only becomes more spectacular from there.

The caverns feature some unique and unusual formations, and our guide was excellent about explaining them. I knew about stalagmites and stalactites, but I had no idea that so many cave features are named for food! We saw cave bacon, cave frosting, cave mushrooms, and cave shields — “they’re kind of like a sandwich,” our guide said.

Overall the caverns were more impressive than I expected, a true gem within the California state park system.

GO SEE IT

Where: Mitchell Caverns is located in the Providence Mountains State Recreation Area in the eastern Mojave Desert.

When: The State Park is open Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, and holiday Mondays from September to June. (Closed July and August.)

You must have a guided tour for the caverns. Reserve this by calling (760)928-2586 between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. on Mondays. Group size is limited to 15 people.

What time: Tours are approximately 2 hours long and take place at 10 a.m. in June and September, and 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. during the other months.

Cost: Tours are $10 per adult, $9 per senior, and $5 for children. There’s also a $10 State Park fee per vehicle.

Bring: There’s no gas or food located within many miles of the attraction, so make sure you have everything you need to fuel yourself and your vehicle. For the tour, you can take a water bottle, but no backpacks or snacks.

Good to know: The bat population is being decimated by white-nose syndrome. It’s a fungal growth that does not affect humans, but humans can carry and spread the spores, and the spores can survive for up to a decade. For that reason, the park requests that whatever you wear to Mitchell Caverns, you never wear into another cave. (So if you have plans to visit another cave soon, this is a great excuse to buy new hiking boots!)

Accessibility: The location of the caverns do not allow for trails to be ADA accessible. Also, the cavern formations create areas as low as 62 inches and as narrow as 14 inches. There are video tours of the caverns that can be viewed inside the visitor center.

Find out more: Visit the park website

Top 5 Faves in Magical, Mellow Yellow Springs

August 4, 2012

I grew up down the road from Yellow Springs, Ohio. My household was fairly conservative and military, so Yellow Springs was always referred to as That Place.

That Place with the hippies.

That Place with the freaks.

That Place where people write poetry and eat tofu and smoke the pot.

As a kid I went to That Place a few times, mostly field trips and a sixth-grade trip to the nature preserve. Whenever I returned home, my parents examined me for signs of corruption by That Place, the same way they scrutinized my dog for ticks every time she wandered off too far in the woods.

But, of course, my parents couldn’t see what That Place had done to me. They didn’t know my stomach grew tingly and warm each time I reached village limits. They couldn’t see the way Yellow Springs made both my head and my heart expand. Over the years, my strong love for the place only increased the more time I spent there.

I won’t go so far as to say Yellow Springs is perfect. But it was perfect for me. It is a challenging, creative place, and I found my way there during the most impressionable time of my life. I don’t know if I would be the same person today if I hadn’t grown up seeing so many politically-active, socially-progressive, intelligent, artistic and fun people, all living together in 1.9 gorgeous square miles.

Now that I live in California, I make a point of visiting Yellow Springs every time I return to Ohio. I still toy with the idea that I’ll end up with a home in Yellow Springs one day. Or maybe a simple cabin. Or a little artists’ retreat. Something. Anything.

Of course, I always come up with this plan in the summer, when Ohio winters still seem like a romantic notion. The reality of living there with slick streets, snowstorms and bone-freezing weather might not be that great.

That said, if you’re making a trip through Southwest Ohio — at any time of year — I highly recommend stopping by Yellow Springs. It’s by far my favorite place in the Midwest and ranks among my happiest places on earth.

Here are the five best things about it:

1. A bike path that promotes health and helps the environment. The Little Miami Scenic Trail, which runs from Yellow Springs to Xenia, is part of an 80-mile trail network that extends from eastern Cincinnati to Buck Creek State Park near Springfield. That means you can see a lot of Ohio on zero gas!

2. Beautiful local businesses. Yellow Springs makes a point to cultivate beauty in their community, which includes a network of unique shops and artisans you won’t find anywhere else.

3. Art is integrated into a way of life. Buildings are colorful, flowers are plentiful and yarnbombing is a way of life!

Check out some of the yarnbombers here.

4. Places where you can really get away from it all. Nature lovers can get their fix at Glen Helen Nature Reserve and John Bryan State Park. Both places are perfect for walking, wandering, getting lost and getting found.

If you spend too much time in front of a computer, here’s your antidote.

5. A variety of flavors are represented and respected. Where else can you get samosas, lomo saltado and vegan soft serve ice cream — all within one block?

World-class architecture in … Columbus, IN.?

July 20, 2012

I first heard about Columbus, Indiana from a boyfriend. He said it was the greatest non-city he’d ever seen — a rural town stocked with extraordinary architecture, fantastic public art and some very cool shops. However, that boyfriend also snacked on dried cuttlefish, had a pill-popping habit and stretched out my skirts by wearing them while I was at work. We really didn’t have all that much in common, other than that we both liked sleeping with men. When the relationship dropped off my radar, so did Columbus, Indiana.

That was years ago.

This summer, I traveled to Indianapolis with The Husband, a man who doesn’t eat any variety of dried fish or delve into my closet. Looking for fun things to do with him and my mother-in-law, I suddenly remembered Columbus and suggested a day trip.

“Why Columbus?” The Husband said. It was the same tone of voice someone might use to say, “Why eat deep-fried horse poop?”

Since he grew up in Indianapolis, sure, he’d heard of Columbus before. But he’d never actually gone there, and he certainly didn’t know it was supposed to be something remarkable.

I rattled off the facts about the place: Columbus has a population of just 44,000 but is ranked sixth in the nation by the American Institute of Architects for innovative building designs. Only Chicago, New York, San Francisco, Boston and Washington D.C. rank higher. “National Geographic Traveler” magazine ranked Columbus as number 11 on their list of 109 great historic destinations in the world. And it was less than one hour from where we were standing.

For our day trip, we didn’t create an itinerary, do any intense research or sign up for the official bus tour, though I’m sure it’s very nice. We simply hopped on the highway and drove straight to the Columbus Area Visitors Center, 506 Fifth St., located in downtown Columbus.

There we got a map, downloaded the Columbus tourism iPhone app and put the two together to create our own custom tour. First stop was the Large Arch by sculptor Henry Moore. It stands immediately in front of the Bartholomew County Library, designed by I.M. Pei, the same architect who created the glass pyramid in front of the Louvre.

Across the street was First Christian Church, 531 Fifth St., a buff brick and limestone structure designed by Eliel Saarinen in 1942. The light hit it in the most perfect way.

The Bartholomew County Veterans Memorial, 200 Washington St., is one of the most effective memorials I’ve ever seen. Twenty-five limestone columns, rising 40 feet into the air, are engraved with the names of those who gave their lives — along with excerpts of selected correspondence.

Walking through the pillars is a meditative, intimate experience.

The Second Street Bridge, designed by J. Muller International, was completed in 1999 and is the first of its kind in North America.

The local newspaper, The Republic, has this gorgeous office building at 333 Second St. It was designed by Myron Goldsmith of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill in 1971, specifically for the newspaper. I love the openness and transparency of the building — just perfect for an office of communications.

This whimsical door (photobombed by The Husband) was at the Children’s Museum, 309 Washington St.

Columbus City Hall, 123 Washington St., has cantilevered arms to frame the two-story, semi-circular window wall of glass.

Even the Bartholomew County Jail, 543 Second St., is rather pretty. It fits right into the downtown structure and design.

First Baptist Church, designed by Harry Weese and completed in 1965, is covered in hand-laid slate, drawing attention to the dramatic, non-dimensional bell tower. Located at 3300 Fairlawn Dr.

This minimalist showpiece is First Financial Bank, 707 Creekview Dr. “Dwell” magazine said, “It may be the most refined bank branch in the world.”

Another First Financial Bank, 2580 Eastbrook Plaza. Another Harry Weese design. This one isn’t really my style, but it does nicely blend with nearby bridges and businesses.

And this is my favorite thing of all — North Christian Church, 850 Tipton Lane. I’m told locals call it The Oil Can Church. Designed by Eero Saarinen and completed in 1964, this church has a six-sided building, a sloping roof and a slender 192-foot spire, topped by a teeny-tiny cross. If the Jetsons were regular churchgoers, they would probably go here.

I absolutely fell head over heels for Columbus, and our day there was decidedly too short. I only saw about half the things I wanted to see. It actually made me regret not going there many years ago with the ex-boyfriend.

Though it was the architecture that drew me there, what hooked me went well beyond the bricks and buildings. Columbus just does so many things right, from plentiful, free wifi to chic bike racks all over town. It is a place that values creativity, art and originality, which is rare to find in many cities of any size, let along a small, Midwestern town.

Columbus has a small-town, friendly feel with many modern touches. Somehow they’ve managed to respect the past while continually moving forward. I can’t wait to go back.

Bridges, blues and the ghost of Jeff Buckley

July 17, 2012

The Husband and I spent a long, humid night in Memphis, steeped in the scent of smoky barbecue, submerged in the blues. Eventually too much sizzle did us in, and we headed back to our hotel in West Memphis, both of us exhausted and slow-cooked in our own sweat.

As The Husband navigated our car over the Hernando de Soto bridge, I suddenly sat up straight and said, “Jeff Buckley died here.”

“Who?”

“Jeff Buckley. The singer. He drowned right here.”

“Here? Like, right here?”

Well, I wasn’t really sure where, I admitted. It was somewhere in the Mississippi. But it’s a massive river. Any part of it could have taken a young singer’s life.

Curiosity got the better of me, and later that night I looked up the details of Jeff Buckley’s death. Sure enough, he died in Memphis — and within sight of the Hernando de Soto bridge. A chill ripped down my spine.

I haven’t thought about Jeff Buckley in years. I can’t even remember the last time I pulled out one of my Jeff Buckley albums. So what was it that summoned the memory of him then? There?

I am a person who believes in ghosts. I believe that a person’s energy never disappears from this world — that my mother whispered in my ear the night before her funeral, that her grandmother once paid a similar visit to the family, and sometimes I can still feel the both of them in the air around me.

I also believe that the veil between worlds in thinnest in the South. I don’t know why. Maybe the humidity weighs it down, makes that veil thick and droopy and, therefore, easily passable.

What I know for certain is that a wispy recollection of Jeff Buckley came to me in Memphis. I crossed over a bridge and looked in a rear-view mirror, all the while humming “Lover You Should’ve Come Over.” I felt the fullness of a life in the space of his death, and it reminded me that people are never really gone. They just temporarily drift away.

Road trip: Hitting America’s hot spots – with air conditioning

June 20, 2012

I don’t mind the heat so much. I live in a desert. Warm weather comes with the territory.

What bothers me is that my car has no air conditioning. This isn’t a problem most of the year. But in summer months — when the sun is blazing and temperatures climb above 110 degrees — it is torture.

It makes me think of when I was little, and my pastor gave ominous sermons about what awaited unrepentant sinners in hell. None of it frightened me until he got to the Lake of Fire part, which is downright terrifying. This is a lake … made of FIRE. As someone scared of both drowning and burning, it is the worst possible scenario.

What I didn’t expect was that my car would become my own personal lake of fire. My hand is scorched by the steering wheel, even through the fabric that covers it. Sweat rolls down my eyelids and pools in the bottom of my sunglasses. I once made the mistake of leaving some coins on the seat — I now have Abraham Lincoln permanently branded to the back of my thigh.

Rolling down the windows brings little relief. It’s merely opening the doors to the blast furnace. The breeze feels more like I’m holding a hair dryer to my face. I arrive at my destination exhausted, dehydrated, red-faced and soaked with sweat. I am drowning and burning, simultaneously.

And the worst part is that I’m still here on earth, racking up sins. I’m not supposed to feel like I’m in hell yet.

Thankfully, The Husband and I are buying a new-to-us car. We found a fantastic, affordable 2010 Honda Accord WITH AIR CONDITIONING! I am so grateful and so happy.

The only minor setback is that this vehicle is in Ohio, so we’re making a little vacation out of it. We’re flying home to spend time with our loved ones in the Midwest, then we’ll pick up the car and drive it back to California.

On our way back, we’re doing a mini version of the Great American Road Trip — even though it’s more like The Teeny-Weeny American Road Trip, Southern Fried With Gravy on Top.

Here’s our itinerary:

Flying: 2,106 miles

Driving: 2,804 miles

Stops: Nashville, Memphis, New Orleans, Houston, El Paso.

Along the way: Family. Friends. A former crush. Two editors. A brother-in-law. An adorable niece. Graceland. BBQ. Bourbon. Tacos.

Have any suggestions for what to see, do and eat along this route? Send them my way!

Road trip