A Brave Pilgrimage
Blue Nelson’s Death Valley Estate Tour
STORY & Photography | Cooper Davis
Blue Nelson lives his life exactly how he wants it to be, he makes no compromise. This is something I knew before taking part in his Wagon Tour, given that he would come by my house every now and again with a roof rack full of Porsche parts on his way to somewhere as absurdly far as Alaska. He’d refuse to come in for a coffee or even to sit down because he was so determined to get back on the road. He was always on the go for a good reason, Blue’s day-to-day involves hunting down and restoring rare cars for clients worldwide. In fact, at last count, he has driven through 130+ countries covering more than one-million miles in just classic cars. He is also an accomplished collector with an eclectic mix of vehicles that are as common as a late ‘40s Plymouth business coupe and as rare as his 1957 Rometsch Beeskow, a Volkswagen-based coach-built roadster. While Blue has the ability to own and drive any car he might want, he has become synonymous with W123 Mercedes-Benz wagons, in part for their six digit odometers which come in handy for obvious reasons. The W123 series of Mercedes Benz automobiles, produced between 1975 and 1986, are renown for their bulletproof build quality, robust drivetrain, and high levels of comfort. Having personally owned over 300 wagons himself, it’s safe to say he has become the encyclopedia of knowledge for the cars and even hosts a yearly Tour to celebrate what he believes to be one of man’s greatest inventions.
According to Blue, this carefully selected group of individuals were chosen to join the tour first and foremost for their Mercedes W123 wagons. After all, this is a wagon tour. But truthfully, after spending a weekend with this group of strangers, I can’t help but feel like Blue chose the people first and the wagons second. You wouldn’t spend two years building and organizing 10 cars for people who don’t even own 123s and making six separate trips to L.A. to work on other people’s wagons if you didn’t think they were worthwhile companions for such a trip! By the end of the weekend, Blue successfully transformed this group of strangers into a family. “Think of this like a Thanksgiving dinner,” he said. “Who would you want to invite to your table? Who would you want to have at your home?”
The Wagon Tour Begins
When Blue called me to see if I’d be interested in joining the trip, I only had one condition: that I could do it with my dad. Having heard about his mythical adventures with the Blue Nelson throughout my life, I was stoked to finally be participating in an adventure with them both. That was until we forgot to shut our hood tight enough, so I found myself on the side of the freeway trying to pop it closed. Richard Ingram was appointed trip mechanic, complete with period coveralls with a Mercedes logo and a vintage prepped service wagon full of tools and spare parts. Within minutes, he appeared behind us to save the day and we were back on the road again. Next came the first gas stop, which, according to Blue, was not even necessary for the mileage we’d be covering, but he claimed it made people feel better considering we’d be traveling into the land of the hottest recorded temperature on earth. This was about a 45-minute ordeal to fuel up 26 cars, along with snacks and a bathroom break. You’re probably wondering the same thing I was: are they ever going to reach Death Valley at this rate?
Well, a couple photo ops. later, we made our first official stop along Blue’s secret route, and what a stop it was! By secret, I mean that Blue set up the tour but never told a single person the route in advance. Even at the first Driver’s Meeting, he never handed out directions or instructions, so we never really knew where we were going. Follow the leader or you’re left behind, as Blue would say. When we arrived at the Trona Pinnacles, a desert landscape filled with more than 500 spires emerging from the ground, I understood the method to his madness. The stops were much more exciting given I didn’t know what to expect next. As we parked up between some of these 140-foot-tall formations and hiked upwards to check out the view, it looked like you had tossed a box of Matchbox cars on the ground. Our convoy boasted 26 cars in a range of configurations from diesel to gasoline to right-hand drive, both auto and manual, low and high mile; this grouping was by no accident, and it meant everyone geeked out on all the little nuances between each other’s cars at every stop we made. I should clarify what I mean by high mile because trust me, these are not by your ordinary car standards. All tallied, the group of wagons racked up more than 7,000,000 collective miles, with many above the half-million-mile mark on their own.
The Pinnacles were also our first opportunity to get acquainted with the other drivers and their copilots. I think our group email thread had reached over 200 messages by the time the trip came around, so I was looking forward to putting some faces to the names. I was most eager to meet Simon Spaeth, a 19-year-old kid from Passau, Germany, whom we had crowd-funded to fly to the US specifically for this tour. The entry fee for Blue’s 2024 Wagon Tour was $31.23. $1.23 for an unknown raffle, and $30 to help pay for Simon’s flight to Oregon. I knew right when I met him why Blue was so adamant that he attend. He was spontaneous, had an old soul, and was eager to explore any road that a 123 wagon could traverse. Simon arrived in Southern Oregon three days prior to the tour to help complete the very wagon he’d be driving. This rare green-on-green 300TD emerged from a hippy commune a week earlier, and under guidance from Blue, Simon not only made the car roadworthy, but gave it an American tribute by hanging his Levi’s denim jacket and cowboy hat in the rear window. Every person who attended the tour had their own unique origin story, but the one thing we all had in common was our love for 123 wagons… and Blue Nelson.
We set off from the Pinnacles to our next destination, where we’d be camping for the night – a mysterious dry lakebed, not indicated on any map. You could watch the shock on the locals’ faces as we passed by. While three or four of the same Mercedes wagon must’ve been surprising, imagine what they were thinking when the last car passed by almost a mile of wagons later. We pulled over and Blue went ahead to make sure the campsite wasn’t underwater, as it apparently had been when he scoped it out for the fourth time just weeks prior. Knowing Blue, he had a Plan B, but thankfully, he came back down the hill with a big thumbs up, and we all traversed a dirt road to this magical spot. One by one, he skillfully parked all the wagons facing inwards, in a large circle which vividly reminded me of the Cozy Cone Motel from the movie Cars. The wagons really came alive in that moment; it felt as though they had joined in on the campfire. We couldn’t relax yet, as there was just one hour of daylight remaining to transform our trusty wagons into what would become our homes for the next three days. It should be noted that Blue made this a wagon-only tour so that we could camp under the stars in the back of our 123s, no sedans or tents invited. Before I could take it all in, Manny and Eddie Gonzales had already assembled the grill and were preparing a feast, so I put down my camera for the evening. The rest of the night consisted of tacos, beers, and campfire stories about transmission fluid levels and our collective worship of the 123 wagon. This might be one of the only road trips where you can compare top speeds without having broken any laws. I fell asleep to the crackling of the remaining embers punctuated by the occasional braying of distant wild burrows leftover from the gold mining days, all experienced through our open tailgate.
Wagon Tour Day 2
I woke up bummed out that I hadn’t filmed more of the evening’s activities, but then I remembered it was only Day 2. We packed up quickly and hit the road so we could finally descend into Death Valley. Now, it was time for Blue’s favorite activity, one he had mentioned many times over the phone and again at the driver’s meeting. We pulled over, everybody got out, and swapped into another wagon. This had two purposes, according to Blue. One, so that each driver could experience a different variation of the 123 wagon and two, to give them a reference point to compare with their own. I found myself at the helm of Blue’s legendary wagon, which was a treat to say the least. His girlfriend Kate Crowley was surprised he even let me sit in it, reiterating one of Blue’s famous quotes, “Don’t kick my f*ing door panel.” With this wagon having 685,000+ miles on the clock, we lead the pack up what could only be described as a torturous 17-mile-long climb for cars with a combined horsepower rating that’s less than a current G-Wagon. I was under strict direction from the man himself to maintain 45 miles per hour—no more, no less—second gear, and steady throttle to allow for consistent running temperatures and for the group to have enough space to make it to the summit together. The fact that Blue had done this drive so many times as to determine a perfect speed for it was just another example of his very calculated mind.
After our historic photo opp. at the Death Valley sign, amidst the world-famous superbloom, we swapped cars once again, where I ended up with Aram Dellalian in Simon’s guru wagon. It was safe to say the squeaking suspension and questionable steering made Aram feel a little better about his own car. We were finally headed downhill, which meant no more stress about running out of momentum. It also meant we were descending into some serious heat. Approaching Stovepipe Wells, my eyes locked onto what appeared to be a mirage in the distance, and sure enough, there was a swimming pool at the only motel around. Gate unlocked, we leapt in for a refreshing dip. I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to jump in a pool as badly as I did then. It was a much-needed cooldown as the temperate climbed and Blue warned us that we had to traverse back over Heartbreak Hill again shortly. After drying off, which took no time at all, we made our final stop of the day at Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, where I organized three of the wagons together for a photoshoot. I chose the brightest pastel colors of the group, and the busloads of tourists were loving it. When we told them there were 23 more down the road, their faces lit up in awe.
The second night was spent at Panamint Springs, a more traditional campground compared to the dry lakebed. Our wagons were scattered in and around the shady trees in their own individual sites that Blue had reserved, with seemingly only wagons around. We had some downtime before dinner at the one real restaurant I’d seen in days, so Garth Hammers took it upon himself to open up his own bar. And when I say bar, I really mean it! He assembled his table, complete with a black cloth, every variety of liquor imaginable, plus some secret whiskey made by our chef, Eddie. One of the more entertaining stories of the day was Andrew Suarez describing his underpowered 240TD and its effort to make it over the hill. Blue had organized a catered, sunset dinner followed by the eagerly awaited mysterious raffle that we had all paid exactly $1.23 for. It was a thrill for any wagon owner as the first item out of the box was a set of genuine Mercedes fuses, followed by Mercedes logo’d wagon-only wipers, and a fresh set of Jett Scott roof bars. When my number was called, I excitedly won the highly coveted, original 123 tool kit, which isn’t exactly ideal if you don’t own a 123 wagon. I sat down and immediately contemplated trading the tool kit for a carnival cruise ship gift certificate until I heard the cheering crowd and realized that winning this tool kit was probably my first step towards owning a wagon for myself.
Wagon Tour Day 3
I woke up the next morning, sad to face the fact that this would be our last day of driving. While I had imagined that this journey would be eye-opening, these people really had become my family. We quickly entertained a spontaneous auction of some remaining Mercedes goodies that Richard had brought along, and Blue gave out the coveted long-distance award, which was his personal whisk broom from his own wagon. This went to Alyce Miller, who drove all the way from Chicago before setting off on our Death Valley journey. It was at this point that I discovered Aram’s wagon had the rarely optioned third row, which faces backwards… a photographer’s dream. While it was a bummer I’d only realized this on the last leg of our drive, I sure made the most out of it. With the hatch up, I photographed each car on our way to Badwater, at 282 feet below sea level, this is the lowest point in the western hemisphere. I may have gone overboard with the photos, filling up my memory card sooner than expected. This newfound hack for rolling shots, a.k.a. third row seat, is just another reason I now need a 123 wagon.
The Salt Flats at Badwater is a sentimental location for my dad and I. Growing up, so many of the adventures I had heard about from Blue involved trips to similar salt flats where he raced belly tank lakesters and antique motorcycles, all towed by the same infamous wagon I had driven just a day prior. Watching Blue walk out onto the salt, camera in hand, with a herd of wagons behind was surreal, to say the least. Admiring the sights, I reminded myself it was going to be 100 degrees again and we still had five hours to go on our own back to L.A. I didn’t want to say goodbye, and more importantly, I didn’t want to go back to a world where every car in a five-mile radius wasn’t a 123 wagon.
As the tour wound down, I think we all had picked up something from this Blue Nelson way of life. For me, a twenty-one-year-old, it was the ability to disconnect from my screen for probably the longest period I can even remember doing so. For others, it might’ve been the meticulous attention to detail or even learning to sleep on their roof rack to admire the stars. If that’s not commitment to Blue’s peculiar lifestyle, then I don’t know what is. The truth is, he wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would we. Yep, I need a 123 wagon.
