Unsurprisingly, Seligman is exceptionally kitsch.
However, as soon as we departed the town, we found that the open road was smooth, straight and had very little traffic on it.
Perfect conditions for me to have my second shot at driving the van
I'm bowling along at 50 mph wondering what Stuart has been complaining about, when suddenly we hit an older patch of tarmac that is a bit lumpy in places. The van starts lurching all over the place, completely independent of anything I am doing. Stuart calls it the wallowing. I slow down to 40 mph and the van behaves again. Stuart has done brilliantly over the last month with the driving, but I know he won't be sorry to say good-bye to the wallowing pig.
As we drive along we notice that every few miles there is a series of signs. We weren't sure whether it was poetry, song lyrics and some left over drug induced hippy musings. None of them made that much sense!
( Cattle crossing / Means go slow / that old bull / is some cows beau )
We drive through Kingman stopping for a coffee and then onto Lake Mohave, where it is hot as hell. We burst into the campground office and ask the lady at reception for an extra shady spot, with electricity so we can have the aircon on. After she has booked us in, we start to ask a few questions about the next part of the trip. What are the campgrounds in Death Valley like? She looks at us incredulous. You do know how much hotter it is than here she asks? We hastily revise our plans from camping for one night in Death Valley, to driving through as fast as possible with the aircon at full blast.
Cacti of Kingman
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