A clear sky and white, puffy clouds above the Hole in the Wall Campground at the Mojave National Preserve - Click for larger image (https://jamesmcgillis.com)

2020 Closure of All Mojave National Preserve Campgrounds and Facilities

By March 2020, the current health crisis had burst out like a California brush fire. On March 19, 2020, California Governor Gavin Newsom issued a “stay-at-home” order for the entire state. Only essential services were to remain open. Under that order, residents were to stay at home and venture out only for essential purposes, such as food, medical care or if one’s work was deemed essential. Mobile dog grooming did not appear on the “essentials” list, yet mobile dog groomers plied many streets.

Having already planned a winter camping trip to the Mojave National Preserve, I contemplated cancelling that annual tradition. In those early days of the pandemic, different jurisdictions were struggling to determine their best course of action. When I visited the Mojave Preserve website, they had closed all visitor centers, but their developed campgrounds remained open.

With my self-contained RV, I could carry everything I needed for three nights of dry camping in the desert. My favorite winter camping spot is Hole-in-the-Wall Campground, 267-miles from our home in Simi Valley. With luck, my only contact with others would be at fuel stops in Barstow and again at Ludlow, just off Interstate I-40. With two five-gallon fuel containers stowed in the back of my pickup truck, I would have plenty of fuel for day trips and exploring remote desert sites. For the entire trip, I planned not to visit restrooms, convenience stores or any other indoor venue. While pumping fuel, I planned to wear gloves and my bandana as a mask.

On March 22, I hit the road. Including two fuel stops, the whole journey took less than seven hours. Upon my arrival, I found a perfect campsite, along the edge and away from other campers. I had my portable generator, solar panels and storage batteries for power. I had enough propane to run the furnace and refrigerator. My fresh water tank was full.

Although it was already spring, a cold storm had recently swept the area. As the sun set early behind The Universal Reflector, the air temperature cooled rapidly. Before sunrise, the outdoor temperature would dip to near freezing. I was comfortable and secure in my self-contained isolation pod. On my first full day, I planned to remain in camp, except to take a couple of short hikes.

At mid afternoon, I changed plans and drove north from the campground and up the muddy dirt track called Black Canyon Road. About five miles north, I turned westat Wild Horse Canyon Road. After I passed the turn-off to Mid Hills Campground, the road narrowed. A prominent sign read, “Four Wheel Drive Only”. Realizing that the sun was sinking toward the horizon, I hurried to complete the loop back to my campsite before sundown. During my entire trip of about fifteen miles, I did not see another human or vehicle.

On the second half of the loop, the road crosses a ravine and later runs down the middle of an arroyo. Where the road crosses the ravine, I encountered a bovine traffic jam. Three yearling calves, and two horned cows were crossing the road. Leading the herd, the mother cows had surmounting the adjoining hillside. Not wanting to scare the calves, I stopped my truck and waited. One cow stood watching the scene from summit of the hill. As if they had never encountered a motor vehicle, the calves stood in the road. They appeared to be in awe of my big, growly diesel truck. I sat patiently, but with the engine running. This far from my camp, the last thing I wanted was a stalled vehicle.

Soon, the sturdy calves made their way, one at a time, to the top of the hill. I was in the high desert, with an elevation of up to 5,600 feet at Mid Hills Campground. From November to April, most nights are at or below freezing. In the summer, temperatures often rise above 100 f degrees. There was no shelter for miles around. I marveled that these animals appeared to be so well adapted to their harsh environment.

On the following morning, I enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee in camp. As I contemplated where to hike or explore that day, there was a rap on my door. When I answered, I encountered a female ranger, standing about fifteen feet away. “We are closing the campground”, she said. “Everyone needs to leave before 2 PM”. “Why are you shutting down?” I asked. “Everyone else is shutting down, so we are too” was her answer. “Everyone has to leave as soon as possible”, she said with authority. “You can camp on open land, at an existing campsite, but not here in the campground”.

Having planned to stay another night, I was determined to find a suitable place. I scouted several campsites that were near the road, but none of them looked inviting to me. At one point, I made the mistake of driving my rig to the end of a dirt track, only to find it occupied by another camper. Ingloriously, I had to back my rig up several hundred yards. When I reached the end of that strenuous task, I turned too sharply, impinging the fifth-wheel hitch on the bed of my truck.

The damage was slight, but my judgment had been faulty. Never take a rig down a road that you are unsure of, I reminded myself. After that, I made my way toward a level area near the end of my previous day’s loop-road journey. My rig is tall and top-heavy, but I was beyond my better judgment. I determined that I could surmount the rise in the rough road and have an idyllic spot to camp for my final night. Going in was not difficult. Although there was one campsite occupied nearby, my own campsite had a 360-degree view and the peace and solitude I desired.

The next morning, I prepared my rig and headed back up the dirt track to Black Canyon Road. I shifted my truck into four-wheel drive and crawled along in low-range. The previous afternoon, on my way into camp, I had seen some car campers setting up in a big dry wash. I had looked at them as if they were crazy. Any experienced camper knows not to camp in a dry wash. Flash floods are all too common in the desert. At the time, those campers had looked at me as if I was crazy for driving such a huge rig over the rough road to my destination.

On my way back out to the paved road, my right-front wheel lifted off the ground, meaning that my rig was tilting badly to the left, behind me. I pressed on. My front wheel returned to the ground and the rig leveled out. As I passed the arroyo, I looked at the campers again as if they were crazy to have spent the night there. They looked at me, astonished that I was able to get my rig back to the highway.

In the end, it all worked out OK for everyone. At that time, I had wanted to stay another to stay another night in the peace and quiet of the Mojave Desert. If presented with the same circumstances today, I would opt for cutting short my visit to the Mojave National Preserve.

As of early September 2020, due to National Park Service orders, all visitor centers, campgrounds, pit toilets, the Lava Tube and the Zzyzx area are closed. Please plan accordingly and travel safely. Emergency response times may be much longer than usual. As of January 2021, only the campgrounds and the Hole In the Wall Visitor Center are open.