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Coyote Lake wind storm
Even when it is windy …

The devil wanted a place on earth, sort of a summer home.
A place to spend his vacation whenever he wanted to roam.

So he picked out Barstow, a place both wretched and rough.
Where the climate was to his liking and the people were hardened and tough.

He dried up the streams in the canyons and ordered no rain to fall.
He dried up the lakes in the valley then baked and scorched it all.

Then over his barren desert he transplanted shrubs from hell.
The cactus, thistle and prickly pear. The climate suited them well.

Now, the home was much to his liking, but animal life, he had none.
So he created crawling creatures that all mankind would shun.

First he made the rattlesnake with its forked poisonous tongue;
Taught it to strike and rattle and how to swallow its young.

The he made scorpions and lizards and the ugly old Horned Toad.
He placed spiders of every description under rocks by the side of the road.

The he ordered the sun to shine hotter, hotter and hotter still.
Until even the cactus wilted and the old Horned Toad looked ill.

Then he gazed on his earthly kingdom as any creator would.
He chuckled a little up his sleeve and admitted that it was good.

‘Twas summer now and Satan lay by a prickly pear to rest.
The sweat rolled off his swarthy brow so he took off his coat and vest.

“By Golly,” he finally panted, “I did my job too well, I’m going
Back where I came from. Barstow is hotter than Hell.”

~ Anonymous

-= Mojave River Valley Museum =-

Bill Sanger was known to have ridden the rails all over the map. In his time he had seen all there was to see. One day he was talking with Jim Craig about  mirages. Mirages are common sites. You see a lot of them, millions of them, in the dry lake bed out there at Amboy.

Bristol Lake - Amboy, CA.

Bristol Lake – Amboy, CA.

“Bill,”  said Jim, “did you ever see the city that  gleams out there on  the lake in hot weather?”

“Yeah,”  Bill replied.

“What you make of it?”  said Jim.

Nothing,”  Bill answered.  “I do not hold with those dude scientists, that try to explain goes by saying the light rays pick up the picture hundreds of miles away and then bend it back and drop that same picture out there on the lake.  It do not make sense. They’re ghosts, that is what they are. Just plain ghosts.

“One time,” Bill went on, “I nearly killed myself trying to hop a ghost train pulling out across Bristol Lake. I was walking out toward the salt works when  along came a freight, not going very fast. I forgot where I was, and made a run for it.  it started to pick up speed, so I gave a leap and grabbed on– nothing!

“I sprawled out flat on that dry lake bed. I looked up and saw the ghost train running in long as nice as you please– 42 cars and one caboose I counted.  they road right smack over me and never even mussed my shirt. They are ghosts I tell you. Ghosts!”

from :
Pioneer tales of San Bernardino County
WPA Writers Program – 1940