Route 66 - Santa Monica and The End of the Great Adventure

From the Mitla Cafe to Santa Monica is mostly just L.A. traffic and sprawl so we cheated and jumped on I-10 for the rest of the way. We eventually made it through horrendous stop-and-go traffic to the intersection of Lincoln and Olympic Boulevards, the official end of Route 66. Of course, just a few short blocks away was the unofficial end, Santa Monica Beach and the pier, so on we drove.

Santa Monica Beach and Pier - where Youngest-daughter
scared at least 5 years off my life

Cars, cars, cars and people, people, people everywhere! It took us about 20 minutes of circling around and looking before we were able to find an available spot in a public parking lot right next to the beach. Paying to park is done via one of those upright kiosk machines that takes cash or credit cards. We discovered that this kiosk had trouble taking a credit card and it didn't give change so we had to scrounge around and finally together came up with the correct amount. I suggest you take enough cash, between $6 and $15 per day or about $1 per hour just in case there are still problems with accepting credit cards. After the machine spits out a permit for you, don’t forget to place it on the dash of your car. During our time there we twice saw police riding around the lot checking for permits on the dashes and giving tickets to any without a valid permit showing.

Toilet/Changing Rooms on Santa Monica Beach

The beach was really nice with a lot of different activity equipment installed. There were also a good number of toilet/changing rooms. They didn't exactly smell like fresh petunia’s, but they were not as dirty as I expected. The beach was wide with deep sand – a very nice beach. The slipped disc in my lower back  was again acting up and my injured foot was paining me a lot that day, but I was determined to walk out to the ocean and at least get my feet wet. Youngest-daughter wanted to change clothes so she went on ahead of me to the changing rooms while I took the parking permit back to put it on the truck’s dash.

This is what caught Youngest-daughter's attention and
caused me a lot of anxiety

With my physical hurts it took me several minutes to make it from the parking lot to the changing room area and I was grateful for the bench thoughtfully placed close by so I could sit while waiting. I waited, and waited, and waited. I started to get anxious knowing it doesn't take that long for her to change clothes. It didn't take much longer of her being a no-show for me to start getting extremely desperate, the kind of desperate that only a parent gets when they are afraid something bad has happened to their child. I hobbled around the changing rooms several times looking everywhere and hysterically started looking for a lady I could ask to check the ladies rooms or a policeman to lock down the whole damn beach and issue an Amber alert, an all-points bulletin to find my baby girl! Bring in every cop, bring in the Marines, bring in the Navy, bring in Homeland Security, send up the drones! Somebody better find my baby and they better do it quick!

Just as I spotted a lady nearby to look into the ladies rooms for me, my totally unawares and unconcerned little female offspring walked up behind me, tapped me on the arm and said, “Hey Dad.” Oh Lord, I almost wet myself right then and there. She had been some yards off to the side at a patch of grass watching some people doing acrobatic stuff and then had gone in to change. I wanted to put my arms around her and hug her tight and I wanted to put a knot on her head too. The hug won out, but just barely.

Youngest-daughter getting Pacific Ocean for a keepsake

She took the clothes she had changed out of back to the car (with me watching her the whole way!) and grabbed an empty 2-liter plastic bottle we had saved specifically for this occasion. We walked toward the ocean, or I should say she walked beside me as I hobbled through the deep sand. I’m not an ancient age, but I certainly felt like it right then. I silently cursed the gods who decided that after 3 years of a pain-free back, it was time once again for it to flare up during our trip.  After a few minutes, we made it to the edge of the beach. I sat down, took off my shoes and together, we waded into the water. We could now say we had absolutely made it; Route 66 from beginning to end! For proof, Youngest-daughter dipped the empty bottle into the water and captured 2 liter’s of Pacific Ocean to bring back home.

The author at "The End"

Our great “Daddy-Daughter ‘Mother Road’ Trip” was ending, but wasn't quite over yet. We still had to make it back home 1,650 miles away. After a few hours on the beach and pier, with the clouds rolling in making everything gray, we decided that was a perfect sign for us to end the fun, get on the road once again and go east this time. We had been gone almost 2  full weeks, we missed the Mamma-woman, Youngest-daughter missed her dog, we were looking forward to sleeping in our own beds again, we were tired of driving, and I was really looking forward to getting back home to my chiropractor to get my back fixed. We tried to beat the rush hour traffic, but evidently, until you get 100 miles away from the ocean in LA, there is no beating rush hour traffic because it is always rush hour traffic!

How Youngest-daughter spent most of the trip back home.
The adventure was over.

Staying on the interstate going back, we spent that night in Barstow, CA. We awoke early, grabbed some fruit and dry cereal from the free hotel breakfast and headed out as the sun made its appearance. I quickly settled into the “Everybody get out of the way cause Daddy is driving and determined to put a lot of miles behind us” mode. Youngest-daughter normally is a great sleeper in the car, but this trip was her first to be the navigator and with all the twists and turns Route 66 presents, there’s not really any time the navigator is not needed so awake she stayed. She had performed her duties wonderfully and now that there was no navigating needed, she was free to sleep. She proved to be a truly gifted car sleeper as the miles kept piling up behind us.

After spending one more night on the road in Oklahoma, we safely pulled into our driveway. Mamma-woman, Riley The Wonder Dog, and even our two very aloof cats came out to welcome us home. Our once-in-a-lifetime trip was over. I could check off another bucket list item. Daddy and daughter had not only survived 2 weeks of 24-hour togetherness and a journey of almost 4,000 miles, but had grown even closer. We had set a goal, persevered and completed it. She had learned how to accurately read a map and give directions; had learned the words to a lot of ’60′s and ’70′s songs; had seen first-hand some things she had read about in her history classes; had seen and learned about America’s heartland; had heard new stories told by her dad and had learned a lot more about her family members who came before her. I had shared with my daughter something I had always wanted to do; had learned my baby girl really is growing up even if I don’t want her to; had learned she has a good, interesting personality all her own and definitely has her humorous side; and now I know when she sets a goal, she is strong enough and has the determination to reach it. We have something very special the two of us will fondly remember all of our lives. Thank you, Route 66. Your mystique and magic lives on.

Go to the first Route 66 entry here.

Or go to the first entry of each state:

Illinois   Missouri   Kansas   Oklahoma   Texas   New Mexico   Arizona   California 

Route 66 & The Birth of Taco Bell

Continuing on Route 66 after leaving the Bottle Tree Ranch, it wasn't long before we started hitting the seemingly never-ending sprawl of the Los Angeles area. We were close to the end of our trip now, but there would be a lot of traffic and congestion and hordes of people to navigate through before walking on the sands of Santa Monica Beach and wading in the Pacific Ocean. There was one more stop I wanted to make before Santa Monica though - a little restaurant in San Bernardino named The Mitla Café.

In 1940, two brothers, Mac and Dick McDonald, opened a small eatery called McDonalds Bar-B-Que in San Bernardino. In addition to bar-b-que, they sold hamburgers. Eight years later, they were selling more hamburgers than plates of bar-b-que so they decided to revamp their restaurant and feature hamburgers as the main menu item. Since they would no longer be serving bar-b-que, they renamed their business to simply McDonalds. In 1954, milk shake mixer salesman Ray Croc came calling and was mightily impressed with the efficiency of the system the McDonalds brothers had designed.  He bought the business a year later, began franchising it, and the McDonalds chain of fast food restaurants was born.

The Mitla Cafe - 602 N. Mt. Vernon Ave., San Bernardino, CA.

Glen Bell, Jr. was born in 1923 and honorably served as a Marine in World War II. After being discharged in 1946, he settled in San Bernardino and in 1948 opened a hot dog stand he named Bell's Drive-In. In 1950, he sold his hot dog stand and opened another stand selling hot dogs and hamburgers - Bell's Hot Dogs and Hamburgers. His new place of business was in the West Side barrio of San Bernardino directly across the street from The Mitla Cafe, a Mexican restaurant in business since 1937. 

The main item the Mitla Cafe was and is still famous for are their hard-shell taco's. Bell fell in love with them. After eating the tacos, he would go back to his place where he tried to figure out how to make them the way they were made at the Mitla Cafe. Try as he might though, the right combination of herbs and spices eluded him. Finally, in desperation, he began asking the owners of Mitla to teach him their secret.

A short time later, Bell began selling tacos through a side window of his business. The tacos proved so popular that between 1954 and 1955, he opened 3 Taco Tias stands. He took on a business partner, sold the 3 Taco Tias stands and opened 4 El Tacos stands in Long Beach.

By 1962, the chain of McDonalds was proving to be very popular and they were opening up all over the place.  With McDonalds' continued growth right there at his back door, Bell decided they were too much competition and sold his hamburger place. He then sold his share of the 4 El Tacos to his partner and focused exclusively on selling tacos with his new place - Taco Bell. He franchised his business in 1964 and eventually sold 868 Taco Bells to PepsiCo in 1978 for $125 million. Today, the company is based in Irvine, California and has almost 7,000 locations which sell more than 2 billion tacos each year.

Home of the "Mother Taco" which launched the birth of
billions of tacos!

It was the Mitla Cafe I wanted to see, the place whose tacos launched billions of tacos; the Mother Taco so to speak. Of those billions, Youngest-daughter and I have had our fair share. At least one Friday night each month, our family has the same conversation - "What do you want to eat tonight?" "Oh, I don't really care." "It's been a long week. I don't feel like cooking." "OK, how about we order pizza?" "Nah, not tonight. How about Sonic?" "Nah, I don't think so. How about Taco Bell?" "Yeah, that sounds good. It's your turn to go get it." "No it's not; I went last time!" If it hadn't been for the Mitla Cafe introducing Glen Bell to tacos, that same conversation might not take place in thousands of households all over America every week.

Unfortunately, our timing was not good and we arrived a little before the Mitla Cafe opened. The area is not exactly the safest of places - bars on windows and doors of every business in the neighborhood is usually a pretty fair indication. The Mitla Cafe had its own bars and heavy linked chains across the front door and side entrance securing the premises from evil-doers.  I didn't feel nervous or particularly unsafe while walking around, but didn't feel real comfortable hanging around for very long waiting for the Cafe to open. It was most likely an over-abundance of caution, but we soon left the neighborhood and headed toward the end of the road at the Santa Monica Pier. We didn't get to eat a Mitla taco or two, but I'm sure we'll be stopping at least once at a Taco Bell on our journey back home. It'll have to do.

Go to the first Route 66 entry here.

Or go to the first entry of each state:

Illinois   Missouri   Kansas   Oklahoma   Texas   New Mexico   Arizona   California 

Route 66 - Atomic Highway and Elmer Long's Bottles

It only took a couple of minutes to put the dying town of Essex behind us, but unfortunately, it took a while to leave behind the anger at our run in with that unpleasant old codger. Fortunately, there's 141 miles between him and our next stop, Elmer Long's Bottle Tree Ranch in Oro Grande, so I had plenty of time to find my calm place and remember to enjoy the journey.

In between where we were to where we were going is the sparsely populated Mojave Desert and the Bristol Mountains. In the late 1950's, some government genius in Washington, D.C.  came up with a grand plan to use up old surplus atomic bombs to help build roads. The cold war was in full swing and America was building newer, improved, bigger atomic bombs. Nobody knew what to do with the old-style bombs or how to safely dispose of them until the government came up with several projects under the umbrella of a plan called "Operation Plowshare." One of these projects was a plan to widen the Panama Canal in one fell swoop with several bombs. Another project was planned to add another harbor in Alaska by setting off however many bombs it took to create one. Project Gnome was a project to create energy by bombing underground aquifers. Projects Rulison and Gasbuggy were planned as an attempt to free natural gas with nuclear explosions.

During this time, a new, easier alignment was in the planning stages for Route 66. In comes a government physicist and it was decided these atomic bombs would be a great way to blow up mountains to speed up road construction. It seems nobody thought about the old-style "dirty" bombs releasing so much radiation that any place where they were detonated would be uninhabitable for 50 years or more. It also appears that nobody thought about the people who lived in these parts.  Meetings were held, plans were made and finally, a proposal was submitted which called for 22 atomic bombs to be placed along a 2-mile stretch through the mountains. The dust cloud was expected to rise a minimum of 12,000 feet and have a diameter of 7 miles. It would shorten the intended route by 15 miles. Amazingly, the proposal went forward with the federal government and California Transportation giving approval. Almost at the last-minute, a number of the local citizens began protesting what was being called "The Atomic Highway." This slowed down the schedule until in 1963, Russia unexpectedly signed the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty and the project was cancelled.

Elmer Long's Bottle Tree Ranch

Several hours after leaving Essex, having safely negotiated the desert and mountains to arrive at 24266 National Trails Highway, we were not greeted by a big neon sign or any sort of roadside alert to let us know we had arrived at the Elmer Long's Bottle Tree Ranch. In fact, if we had not been ready and expecting it, we might have been looking on the wrong side of the road and totally missed it. However, when you do see it, you know immediately you have arrived at some place different, a special place built and assembled by some special person.

We pulled off the road to park on the narrow dirt strip in front of the "ranch." Bottles and, well, a lot of odd, old stuff is everywhere. But not like a normal junk yard, oh no, this is an interesting, weirdly artful junk yard - bottle trees everywhere you look; typewriters, cash registers, wrist watches, galvanized tubs all arranged with various colored bottles to form what I guess would be called modern art or perhaps interpretive art would be a better name for it. Not hundreds of bottles, thousands and thousands of bottles. It's weird and it's interesting and we had a great time just wondering around the place.

Elmer Long is the artist behind the Bottle Ranch. He used to go with his dad out into the desert and collect the objects they found, including many, many bottles. After his father passed away, Elmer was left with all of these bottles and other objects with no idea what to do with them. He finally decided to craft a bottle tree and in the year 2000 when he was finished, he liked the way the light shown through the bottles and the melody the wind created as it flowed over them so much that he decided to make another one. He hasn't stopped yet and now there are more than 200 "trees."

Unfortunately, when we were there, Mr. Long was not, but the gate leading into the property was open with a "welcome" sign just inside. We thoroughly enjoyed walking around looking at the colors created by the setting sun and the bottles and spent a long time looking at, thinking about, and to be honest, trying to figure out what, if anything, the artist was saying with some of his creations. I'm thinking some of them were assembled just because he had a pile of crap he wanted to use and it actually has no meaning at all. I could be wrong, of course. I wish he had been there so I could have asked him. But whatever, Mr. Long. Just please don't stop creating your art. It's a joy to many and any Route 66 traveler who doesn't make it a point to stop is missing a treasure.

Cash register art?

Bottles and "art stuff" as far as you can see.

Go to the first Route 66 entry here.

Or go to the first entry of each state:

Illinois   Missouri   Kansas   Oklahoma   Texas   New Mexico   Arizona   California