It turns out that the only way around the river before a bridge was built in 1905, otherwise they used a ferry. You would have had to go 1,400 north if you left from Florida and went to southern California. This was a neat fact to us.
Next to the bridge was the old Yuma Territorial Prison built in 1876 and used till 1909 and off and on since then. It was interesting to see the cells, six people to the cell made of metal all over and the ceiling and sides were covered with plaster and whitewash.
The prisoners were not allowed to talk to each other so side by side cells would communicate by finding the largest cockroach in their cell write a note on a scrap of paper and toss it towards the next cell. The cockroach would scoot to the nearest dark place, the next cell. Sundays they could work on handmade items and sell them for extra monies. They played cards, the women who were incarcerated made lace. It was a very interesting place and full of visitors. This is a place to visit; it actually draws people to the city. Today the city took over the prison as the state could not bear the cost.
One of the interesting things was that they had 2,500 prisoners with 30 women or so; it was also used to house hobo’s and during the depression to give shelter to families that were destitute.
Mary and John picked us up for lunch at El Pappagallo a Mexican restaurant in Yuma. It is a comfortable place to eat. We had the pleasure of meeting and talking with the owner our pal Brett. As we bantered back and forth upon being seated he took up with us. We all ordered a Margareta, and he came along with them. He pulled up a chair became part of our conversation. We know more about his mom and dad than one should know. He was in the north once and had some mixed memories of the event, someone’s marriage. As we completed our drinks, he refilled three of them as he would pop.
Mary got a small Chinchaga with rice and beans,
Shirleen a Cheese enchilada with a mild flavorful sauce, the best sauce she has ever had with her standard order.
John a Chinchaga,
I Fish Tacos, four of them – the fish was over done – as a result I would choose something else next year. Mary wonders how I will write this event up. He knew a lot about Palm Springs and its change in occupants. His hands resting on my shoulder was unsettling to me and normally not so. He talked mostly with John and I. Well that’s all the time he deserves.
We then took off for the Phoenix area. Again we travel on the highways and see the desert, no not all deserted but field after field of alfalfa, very large dairy barns can be seen off in the distance. Then there was the beginning of the saguaro cactus seen more around the Phoenix area.
As we approached Gila Bend AZ a sign looms ahead. A stop of all vehicles for an inspection by the boarder patrol, cars to the left trucks to the right and off the highway for some type of further inspection before they came out of the ditch to join the highway.
Who is in front of me but a pickup truck from Mexico. They had to produce there documents and were swiftly told to proceed. As I approached, the drug sniffing dog held on his leash by a stout patrolman encircled our car. I was told to go forward and the next guy looked down at the license plate and bent in the window with a smile and said to have a nice day, proceed.
We ate at a diner alongside the motel. The Black Bear Diner, Shirleen and I split her half order of baby back ribs with a baked potato and a lot of yellow squash as was mine with my half a fried chicken of which Shirleen got the leg. This was followed by Bear Claw Ice Cream dessert, a scoop of rich chocolate ice cream blended in chocolate covered cashews and ribbons of creamy caramel.
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