2017 Driving to San Diego in West Texas

Desert Drones and Dust Devils: Somewhere Between Fort Stockton and El Paso

There’s a stretch of highway in West Texas that feels like driving through a sepia-toned postcard—flat, endless, and so quiet you start to wonder if you’ve slipped into a Clint Eastwood movie. That’s where I found myself, somewhere between Fort Stockton and El Paso, halfway through a road trip from Texas to San Diego.

The playlist was looping, the snacks were dwindling, and my legs were starting to feel like they’d been molded into the driver’s seat. It was time to stop. Not for gas. Not for food. Just to remember what standing upright felt like.

🛑 The Pit Stop: Dust, Silence, and a Whole Lot of Sky

I pulled off onto a gravel shoulder that looked like it hadn’t seen a human since the Eisenhower administration. No buildings. No signs. Just a few scraggly bushes, a sun that meant business, and a horizon so wide it felt like the Earth was showing off.

I stepped out of the car and stretched like a cat that had been cryogenically frozen. My spine made noises. My knees filed complaints. But the air? Dry, warm, and oddly refreshing. It smelled like adventure and baked rocks.

And then I remembered—I brought my drone.

🚁 Drone Deployment: West Texas Edition

Launching a drone in the middle of nowhere is a special kind of joy. No buildings to dodge. No people to annoy. Just open sky and the occasional vulture giving you side-eye.

I fired it up, and the little guy buzzed to life like it had been waiting for this moment. Up it went—higher, higher, until it was just a speck against the blue. The camera feed showed a landscape that looked like Mars with better lighting. Jagged ridges, winding dirt trails, and a highway slicing through it all like a scar.

I flew it over a nearby ridge and spotted what looked like an abandoned windmill and a rusted-out pickup truck that had clearly lost a fight with time. I half expected a tumbleweed to roll by and wink at me.

📸 Capturing the Vastness

I snapped a few shots—drone selfies, panoramic views, and one dramatic slow-motion video of me pretending to walk heroically toward the horizon. (I tripped on a rock immediately after. That footage will never see the light of day.)

The drone caught a dust devil swirling in the distance, like nature’s way of saying, “I can party too.” It was mesmerizing—chaotic, graceful, and gone in seconds.

🏜️ Back on the Road

After about 20 minutes of flying, stretching, and pretending I was in a travel documentary, I packed up the drone, dusted off my boots, and climbed back into the car. The silence of West Texas had done its job—I felt recharged, re-centered, and slightly sunburned.

Next stop: El Paso. Then on to the Arizona desert, and eventually the Pacific coast. But that little slice of nowhere between Fort Stockton and El Paso? It reminded me that sometimes the best parts of a road trip aren’t the destinations—they’re the weird, wonderful pauses in between.

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Let me know if you want to turn this into a travel series or add drone footage captions. I’ve got plenty of desert wisdom and road trip tales to share.