The World's Tallest Thermometer — Attraction in Baker

From the memoir DESERT SOLILOQUY about this place when it was still a Mojave Preserve visitor's center:

Dreading the next task, I got in my vehicle, waited for the fresh crowd of bewildered tourists to figure out how the stop signs at the intersection work, and drove to the Visitor’s Center. I parked in the back, next to the hamburger joint.

The bathroom door was locked. Well golly, I had a universal key that opens all kinds of doors: I went to my pickup, rummaged around inside the tool box, and came up with a screw driver. After a few probing motions of the screw driver between the door jam and the door knob’s locking mechanism, the door opened. Since it only took a few seconds, why the hell did they even bother with a lock? Why even have the door? I left the door standing open, and went inside the bathroom.

The hot water heater sat, tall and fat, in the corner in front of me to the left; the toilet was in the right corner, with about 18 inches of space between it and the water heater. Visitors who wished to pinch off a loaf had to place their feet to either side of the tank. The sink was to my right, next to the door. The entire space measured about four feet square. I put the bottle of alcohol in the sink, since there was no place else to put it except on the floor, and I opened the hot water valve.

The disgusting “bandage” on my left hand was revolting to look at, and in retrospect I suppose for the sake of being polite I should have covered the hand with a bag or tee-shirt or something so that people didn’t have to look at it. I’m very “big” on being polite to people.

I put my hand under the stream of hot water, moving the fingers around a bit, and washed away the dried blood and other unguessed-of fluids. Slowly, while under the water, I tugged at the tape and slipped it off as a single unit towards my fingers. I did this without looking, under the assumption it would hurt less if I didn’t look. The pain was bearable, so I looked at my hand. The pain increased by six orders of magnitude, so I looked away again.

One of the “sutures” had pulled out of the tasty meat I had shoved the needle through, ripping open one side of the wound. On the plus side, the other “suture” held, and the wound was mostly closed. A small section was still gaping open, oozing blood a bit, but it hurt worse than it looked. The bad-looking part was the green hand and blue lower arm.

I turned off the water and braced myself for the hard part: the alcohol. Do I swab gently with alcohol, or pour alcohol into the wound and force it around in there? The man in me said to do the former; the woman in me said to do that latter.

Getting the cap off with one hand wasn’t easy. Why the frack did anyone think it necessary to put a “child proof cap” on a bottle of rubbing alcohol? Any child that tasted it would puke her guts out at the first sip.

Cap finally off the bottle, I placed my hand palm-up on the edge of the sink, took a breath and held it, clenching my teeth, and poured.

The pain was not anywhere near as bad as I had anticipated: it was worse. Of its own volition, my hand flung itself away from the sink as it screamed. I heard it scream: really, it did. I forced it back on to the edge of the sink, poured on more alcohol, and then set the bottle down inside the sink. With my other hand I pressed the alcohol into the wound, forcing alcohol into the little nooks and crannies.

Blood gushed upward, and my entire body exploded with sweat from the pain. My every pore oozed pain. My vision was dulled and clouded from pain. Fumbling with the cap again, I closed the bottle of alcohol, turned the hot water back on, and thrust my hand under the stream and left it there until the hot water tank emptied of warm water and the stream ran cool. I turned...

The World's Tallest Thermometer, located on the way to LA, is a quirky and eye-catching roadside attraction that adds a touch of novelty to your journey. Standing tall against the desert landscape, it's hard to miss this unique landmark.

As you approach the thermometer, you'll be greeted by its towering presence and vibrant colors. The design is a nod to the nostalgic roadside attractions of yesteryears, exuding a sense of charm and whimsy.

This towering thermometer serves as a testament to the scorching temperatures of the Mojave Desert. It's an amusing photo opportunity, allowing you to capture a memorable moment against the backdrop of this towering structure.

While the World's Tallest Thermometer may not have an extensive array of amenities or activities, its sheer presence and uniqueness make it a worthwhile stop along your journey. Take a moment to stretch your legs, soak in the desert atmosphere, and marvel at this offbeat attraction.

Whether you're passing through or intentionally seeking out roadside curiosities, the World's Tallest Thermometer offers a brief but amusing detour from the highway monotony. It's a lighthearted addition to your road trip, creating a fun memory to share with friends and family.

In summary, the World's Tallest Thermometer is a quirky landmark that breaks up the drive on the way to LA. It's a fun and memorable pit stop where you can embrace the desert charm and capture a unique photo...

I absolutely love the history of Baker and "The World's Tallest Thermometer!"

Driving through Baker has a feeling of its own. When you drive past abandoned places like the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and Bun Boy Motel, you get a feeling of what Baker used to look like when it was a bustling little hot spot for passersby and I love that.

After years of being abandoned, the thermometer is now working again since the family of the original builder/owner purchased it back from the old owner who was having financial issues. They've replaced the old lightbulbs with LED lightbulbs and sell the old lightbulbs on plaques in the gift shop, along with hot sauces and salsas, shirts, cups, etc. The shirts are even heat-activated so they change colors based on the temperature!

Every time I drive from Nevada to California, I always stop by and say hi to the family members running the gift shop (they are all related to the original builder/owner). The old Bun Boy Restaurant is nearby and great for urban exploration (picture taking mostly) as is the Bun Boy Motel.

The house across the street from the thermometer was the house the family grew up in when they were small, believe it or not!

There are plenty of places to grab a quick snack (Mad Greek comes to mind first) so stop on by, say hi, and enjoy a piece of Baker (and Route...