Driving south from Goldfield I began to see Yucca trees. Here’s a forest of them.
Poston, Arizona on the banks of the Colorado River
This area, within a large radius of Yuma is some of the most productive farm land in America… and the money is made on the backs of Mexican immigrants, legal or not. The extravagant farm owner’s houses tell the story. so do the grim barrios where the workers are housed.
Driving toward Yuma from the west, you must pass through Quartzsite, the biggest flea market I’ve ever seen.
It’s a mess to get through
Everything imaginable is for sale
I mean everything! This is a Bell 47 J2A. I worked on these when I was an apprentice helicopter mechanic. I still love this model.
Tens of thousands of RVs park in the desert. It is called “Dry Camping”
Hundreds of thousands of northerners spend their winter here, just like this.
Old cars are a passion here. This, I believe, is a 1940 Ford
In a Yuma backyard. The grapefruit just fall and lay on the lawn. They are $3 each back home.
A Yuma weed growing beside the sidewalk. Dates are smeared all over the concrete.
Yet another Yuma suburban scene
Colorado River dawn. It looks kind of biblical!
The Mormon Battalion once passed through here to fight the Mexicans. This is a commemorative statue in the adjacent park.
I liked the poem.
January flowers. There are wonderful colours, alien to me, which bloom everywhere.
Still working after all these years
Waiting for parts
Re-radial low profile tires
Thinking green? Recycling is clearly a novel idea here. It looks a lot like Mexico!
Studebaker Bullet Nose
Nearly 70 years old and still ahead of its time!
My Mexican laundry.
Anything for a buck. Mexican enterprise.
First coffee and finally… a selfie stick!
RV Park dawn. Up before the quail to catch up on my blogging. The stars are magnificent here. Five hours later, it is getting too bright to see the computer screen. Time to move on. Desert Ho!
In my last blog, I described Yuma well enough. It is a massive sprawling agricultural barrio with non-stop trains, howling freeway and endless military flights. Look there goes another F69! I’ve stayed in the same RV park for four nights while repairs were made and while visiting friends from my marina in Ladysmith. John and Lynne are seasoned snow birds and have pampered me wonderfully. Now it is time to move on. This RV park is nestled on the southern bank of the Colorado River, immediately adjacent to an amazing park built on the reclaimed land of a huge garbage dump. Here are some of my photographic impressions of the drive into Yuma and of my last four days here. I’ll post this blog and then move on into the raw desert.
“ If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” …Mark Twain