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Captains Log: Star date 10/27/12.  The USS Biscuit Wagon is currently just south of the Barstow, CA galaxy on State (Star) Route 247.  Galactic coordinates - N. 34 degrees, 51.630 min; W.117 degrees, 00.988 min.)

I was late getting underway from James’s ranch and didn’t pull out of the driveway until 9:30 am.  My route to Barstow was down back roads, so it was a relaxing drive.  About 3 miles down the road, I drove past the Pacific Gas and Electric facility that several years ago was responsible for leaking Chromium into the ground water.  This event led to the multimillion dollar lawsuit, dramatized in the movie ‘Erin Brockovitch’.

The PG&E facility that I believe was the one that leaked Chromium into the surrounding ground water.

Just north of the City of Barstow, I stopped for lunch alongside the road. Several people stopped to say ‘hi’, including my host from Reily’s bar, where I stayed a couple of night ago.

The road into Barstow was over a couple of narrow bridges.  One was over the dry Mojave River bed, the other was over a large railroad yard.  Like always, the lads handled it like pro’s.

Trekking across the truss bridge that spanned the railroad yard.

Coincidentally, I navigated down Main Street in Barstow, just hours before their annual parade was to travel over the same route.  I guess you could say that we were the preliminary act for the main event!

Turning south on Barstow Road (Route 247) the lads pulled the wagon up a large hill, leading south out of town.  Near the top of the first hill, I stopped at a grocery store to replenish my larder. While there, several folks stopped by to say ‘hi’ and see the horses.

Cruising down main street in Barstow.  This particular section of our route was over old Route 66.

‘Ol Doc likes petting session like this one at the grocery store.

Just south of the grocery store, my route took me over the combined I-15 and I-40 expressways. I last crossed I-40 on my way north through New Mexico, in March, 2010.

Over the freeway and moving south.

Not long after leaving the last built-up area of the city, I settled for the evening on some BLM land. Doc still had plenty of zip left in him, but Bob was giving me his ‘I’m pooped’ look.  Tonight, I have the lads in two separate electric fence enclosures, as I look down on the lights of Barstow to the north.

Doc used a combination of a sweaty body, some sand, and a good roll to adopt some desert camouflage.

The City of Barstow as the sun was setting.

End, Captain’s Log.