This is (fortunately) my only solo attempt, this trip, at the long-arm shot.
Have just returned (well, no longer "just" - took a while to pull this together) to windy, gray, green, cool Seattle from non-stop sun and temperatures in the 70s and 80s in Big Sur and Joshua Tree National Park. It was not quite the trip I had initially anticipated. But despite (because of?) a serious of unplanned events, it was an immensely pleasurable experience of place and self, culminating in a trip to Joshua Tree with a good friend that resulted in an excellent, although brief, series of good (minus that one gas incident) memories.
A little recap:
THE BACK STORY
When my original trip to California fell through, I was bummed not only due to the manner of the dissing, but even more because I had been really looking forward to a trip to the central California coast - Monterey down through Big Sur - places I hadn't seen since I was 8, and from which I had vivid memories of curves and ocean and sweeping scenery, as well as rock squirrels, sea otters, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. A friend's pictures from a class trip this past year had cemented my desire to go back. Soon. On top of that, the trip was to have been pure play. And, in addition to the fun of anticipation, it offered me some structure within my current unemployed limbo.
I had a relatively inexpensive round-trip plane ticket to San Jose, which would cost (it seemed to me) nearly as much to change as it had cost to buy. And no other plans. I could eat the cost of the original ticket, or I could create something new. I debated doing the bones of the trip on my own, and did a little research into car rentals near the airport, but decided that I would feel sorry for myself driving around alone for an entire week. And anyway I'd already done that ;) - genuinely important at the time, but not appropriate to repeat. I looked into other options that I could do independently, yet not quite on my own, and found a climbing trip in Joshua Tree offered by REI Adventures for the weekend of my ticket. The Park was within (long) driving distance of San Jose, and I had long wanted to climb outside (having only ever climbed in a gym), so, on impulse, I pulled out the credit card and booked the trip.
...only to find out two hours later that the trip had been canceled due to insufficient numbers.
Next plan did involve a change in airline ticket, but was inspired by the above plan, and felt worth it. My friend Sue, herself wanting some positive anticipation in her life, expressed interest in going down to Joshua Tree (Sun! Heat! Beauty!) at a later weekend, and was even able to bring herself to commit to a guided trip. The REI trip again fell through due to numbers, but we went anyway.
The plan was that I would fly into San Jose on Tuesday, November 9, and take a cab the 5 miles to my inexpensive car rental place, where I would pick up a car and head to the coast. I would spend the next three nights working my way down Big Sur, car camping and hiking, to pick up Sue somewhere outside of Los Angeles/Joshua Tree on Friday. We would camp two nights in the Park, spending the days scrambling around on rocks, and spend Sunday eve with her recently recontacted high school friend who lived nearby. Then she would fly back home from there, while I would drive the 8 hours north to fly back out of San Jose.
I had also earlier called the Esalen Institute, which used to be an old hippy hangout with hot springs perched on cliffs above crashing waves, but which, in the past decade or so, I read had been renovated. It is now a somewhat exclusive retreat and center for workshops. Participants have exclusive access to the man-made pools, filled with natural hot water, for 22 hours of the day. But the Institute offers baths by reservation to outsiders from 1AM-3AM every night. There is not much I enjoy more than hot springs and, having nixed the 10-mile hike in to Sykes Hot Springs for this trip, decided Esalen would have to do. But it was a no go for that Tuesday night.
Finally, around 8PM, I pull up to Andrew Molera State Park, fill out my registration, and navigate the parking lot to the head of the walk-in trail. It is overcast and star-less and threatening to drizzle. I speed walk the 1/4-mile path safely and stop at the first site I come to, set up my tent, read a bit, and call it a day.
It becomes a habit on this trip to wake up and see for the first time where I have spent the night. I am never disappointed.
The sun is high at 7:30AM and I am ready to move. I suppose I would be ready to eat, except that I don't have any food. There is rain on the outside of my tent from the previous night, but the sky is clear and I decide to find the ocean while allowing my tent to dry.
The path at the far end of the campground takes me past Cooper Cabin, reported to be the oldest building in Big Sur. I snap the obligatory photo. Such unfamiliar/familiar smells - eucalyptus? something smelling vaguely toasted and reddish brown...
My first sighting, this trip, of
California's Pacific Ocean is over the top of a brackish pool. I still find it exciting. It must be the sun. ;)
But the real destination is the view from a small bluff above (complete with a dead seagull... no, no picture).
I also find what, with my untrained eye, appear to be excellent beginner waves. Complete with a (albeit potentially treacherous) land-based scramble out beyond the breakers.
While watching waves, I ponder my next direction. I realize I will have to backtrack after all, as I have neither stove fuel nor food, and north has the only stores of decent size and normal cost. And this way I won't miss those northern 20 miles. After hitting the Safeway in Carmel (still no fuel! I wind up later buying a clunky Coleman stove plus that kind of fuel, as I never find what I need for my camp stove), I head back south, stopping at Point Lobos State Reserve - probably the most visited spot on the Big Sur coast. There is a sign in the bathroom that says "No paper towels until further notice due to state budget cuts."
I avoid the largest crowds and head to the South Shore, where I sit, writing in my journal and watching waves break. I could watch waves for hours. I do watch waves break - well, maybe not for hours, but close.
There is one spot where the biggest wave of the set keeps crashing and looking like it's going to drench me, although really, it falls short by several feet. I sit poised for endless minutes with my camera extended like I am waiting for wildlife, trying to catch the perfect shot of spray. I wind up with a half a dozen pictures of lovely rocks and water, which all look the same. I will spare you the duplicates.
I walk out to the point to listen to the California sea lions (much cuter-sounding than the Stellars in Southeast). Gorgeous (have I said this before?). I am amongst the tourists - often three generations in one family with both young kids and grandparents. I almost am annoyed at their squealing, and oohing and aahing, but catch myself and decide that it is a good thing - that's how I started outside. And if they weren't enthralled, we should be worried...!
The drizzle from the night before has now passed and it is getting sunny, with puffy white clouds. This is the most summer I have had in over a year! My feet are so unused to flipflops that half a day, and I'm already starting to get blisters. I miss summer!
The Fire Road Trail (only recently repaired and reopened) to the "Tin House."
I have no idea what the story is with the Tin House, but it was cool. And fun to shoot with my camera's sunset feature...
The view from Kirk Creek Campground:
A lovely (and popular) spot on the west side of the road. I managed to get the second-to-last campsite, and even set up camp before the last colors of the sunset had faded to black.
I had a relatively inexpensive round-trip plane ticket to San Jose, which would cost (it seemed to me) nearly as much to change as it had cost to buy. And no other plans. I could eat the cost of the original ticket, or I could create something new. I debated doing the bones of the trip on my own, and did a little research into car rentals near the airport, but decided that I would feel sorry for myself driving around alone for an entire week. And anyway I'd already done that ;) - genuinely important at the time, but not appropriate to repeat. I looked into other options that I could do independently, yet not quite on my own, and found a climbing trip in Joshua Tree offered by REI Adventures for the weekend of my ticket. The Park was within (long) driving distance of San Jose, and I had long wanted to climb outside (having only ever climbed in a gym), so, on impulse, I pulled out the credit card and booked the trip.
...only to find out two hours later that the trip had been canceled due to insufficient numbers.
Next plan did involve a change in airline ticket, but was inspired by the above plan, and felt worth it. My friend Sue, herself wanting some positive anticipation in her life, expressed interest in going down to Joshua Tree (Sun! Heat! Beauty!) at a later weekend, and was even able to bring herself to commit to a guided trip. The REI trip again fell through due to numbers, but we went anyway.
The plan was that I would fly into San Jose on Tuesday, November 9, and take a cab the 5 miles to my inexpensive car rental place, where I would pick up a car and head to the coast. I would spend the next three nights working my way down Big Sur, car camping and hiking, to pick up Sue somewhere outside of Los Angeles/Joshua Tree on Friday. We would camp two nights in the Park, spending the days scrambling around on rocks, and spend Sunday eve with her recently recontacted high school friend who lived nearby. Then she would fly back home from there, while I would drive the 8 hours north to fly back out of San Jose.
* * *
DAY ONE (Tuesday)
Anticipation! Blue, warm, sun, ocean!
I arrive into San Jose airport around 3PM and take a taxi to the off-airport Budget rental place, only to find out that 1) the 5 mile ride costs an unexpected $45; and 2) in the past 2 weeks, "my" Budget rental location has stopped renting cars and now is only renting moving trucks. Something to do with an employee filching money through the computer system.
So, I am stranded. No car. No contacts. And the prospect of $45 back to the airport for an oh-so-expensive airport rental.
The guy, Mike, at Budget is very nice, however, and starts to feel sorry for me. He is finally able to contact the regional manager, who coordinates an airport rental at my booked rate (plus airport taxes), and Mike offers to leave work 30 minutes early (oh! the sacrifice...) and drive me back to the airport. I think he is a little perplexed at the idea of me being here on my own.
I am on the road at 5:15PM, just in time for rush hour. The sun is setting as I crawl out to Carmel. I have two options for camping in mind that night, both of which feature walk-in sites that I hoped would be easy enough to find in the dark. I drive the northern 20 miles of the coastline in darkness, watching the purple ribbon of the road waving across the screen of my GPS. To the left of the ribbon, a dark blue marking land. Not very far to the right, a light blue intermittently labeled "Pacific Ocean." I know that what I am driving along is stunningly gorgeous, and am disappointed to be starting my trip in the dark.
I arrive into San Jose airport around 3PM and take a taxi to the off-airport Budget rental place, only to find out that 1) the 5 mile ride costs an unexpected $45; and 2) in the past 2 weeks, "my" Budget rental location has stopped renting cars and now is only renting moving trucks. Something to do with an employee filching money through the computer system.
So, I am stranded. No car. No contacts. And the prospect of $45 back to the airport for an oh-so-expensive airport rental.
The guy, Mike, at Budget is very nice, however, and starts to feel sorry for me. He is finally able to contact the regional manager, who coordinates an airport rental at my booked rate (plus airport taxes), and Mike offers to leave work 30 minutes early (oh! the sacrifice...) and drive me back to the airport. I think he is a little perplexed at the idea of me being here on my own.
I am on the road at 5:15PM, just in time for rush hour. The sun is setting as I crawl out to Carmel. I have two options for camping in mind that night, both of which feature walk-in sites that I hoped would be easy enough to find in the dark. I drive the northern 20 miles of the coastline in darkness, watching the purple ribbon of the road waving across the screen of my GPS. To the left of the ribbon, a dark blue marking land. Not very far to the right, a light blue intermittently labeled "Pacific Ocean." I know that what I am driving along is stunningly gorgeous, and am disappointed to be starting my trip in the dark.
I had also earlier called the Esalen Institute, which used to be an old hippy hangout with hot springs perched on cliffs above crashing waves, but which, in the past decade or so, I read had been renovated. It is now a somewhat exclusive retreat and center for workshops. Participants have exclusive access to the man-made pools, filled with natural hot water, for 22 hours of the day. But the Institute offers baths by reservation to outsiders from 1AM-3AM every night. There is not much I enjoy more than hot springs and, having nixed the 10-mile hike in to Sykes Hot Springs for this trip, decided Esalen would have to do. But it was a no go for that Tuesday night.
Finally, around 8PM, I pull up to Andrew Molera State Park, fill out my registration, and navigate the parking lot to the head of the walk-in trail. It is overcast and star-less and threatening to drizzle. I speed walk the 1/4-mile path safely and stop at the first site I come to, set up my tent, read a bit, and call it a day.
* * *
DAY TWO (Wednesday)
It becomes a habit on this trip to wake up and see for the first time where I have spent the night. I am never disappointed.
The sun is high at 7:30AM and I am ready to move. I suppose I would be ready to eat, except that I don't have any food. There is rain on the outside of my tent from the previous night, but the sky is clear and I decide to find the ocean while allowing my tent to dry.
The path at the far end of the campground takes me past Cooper Cabin, reported to be the oldest building in Big Sur. I snap the obligatory photo. Such unfamiliar/familiar smells - eucalyptus? something smelling vaguely toasted and reddish brown...My first sighting, this trip, of
California's Pacific Ocean is over the top of a brackish pool. I still find it exciting. It must be the sun. ;)
But the real destination is the view from a small bluff above (complete with a dead seagull... no, no picture).I also find what, with my untrained eye, appear to be excellent beginner waves. Complete with a (albeit potentially treacherous) land-based scramble out beyond the breakers.
While watching waves, I ponder my next direction. I realize I will have to backtrack after all, as I have neither stove fuel nor food, and north has the only stores of decent size and normal cost. And this way I won't miss those northern 20 miles. After hitting the Safeway in Carmel (still no fuel! I wind up later buying a clunky Coleman stove plus that kind of fuel, as I never find what I need for my camp stove), I head back south, stopping at Point Lobos State Reserve - probably the most visited spot on the Big Sur coast. There is a sign in the bathroom that says "No paper towels until further notice due to state budget cuts."
I avoid the largest crowds and head to the South Shore, where I sit, writing in my journal and watching waves break. I could watch waves for hours. I do watch waves break - well, maybe not for hours, but close.
There is one spot where the biggest wave of the set keeps crashing and looking like it's going to drench me, although really, it falls short by several feet. I sit poised for endless minutes with my camera extended like I am waiting for wildlife, trying to catch the perfect shot of spray. I wind up with a half a dozen pictures of lovely rocks and water, which all look the same. I will spare you the duplicates.
I walk out to the point to listen to the California sea lions (much cuter-sounding than the Stellars in Southeast). Gorgeous (have I said this before?). I am amongst the tourists - often three generations in one family with both young kids and grandparents. I almost am annoyed at their squealing, and oohing and aahing, but catch myself and decide that it is a good thing - that's how I started outside. And if they weren't enthralled, we should be worried...!
The drizzle from the night before has now passed and it is getting sunny, with puffy white clouds. This is the most summer I have had in over a year! My feet are so unused to flipflops that half a day, and I'm already starting to get blisters. I miss summer!
* * *
Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park:
Several of the longer trails were closed here (and at other places, as well) due to ongoing repairs following recent fires - last summer, I think?
The Fire Road Trail (only recently repaired and reopened) to the "Tin House."
I have no idea what the story is with the Tin House, but it was cool. And fun to shoot with my camera's sunset feature...
The view from Kirk Creek Campground:
A lovely (and popular) spot on the west side of the road. I managed to get the second-to-last campsite, and even set up camp before the last colors of the sunset had faded to black.* * *
DAY THREE (Thursday)
Made it for the 1AM swim at Esalen this "morning." It was a perfect night for it - stars bright in a clear sky, with only a thick eyelash of a moon. From where I soaked, I could lean my arms on the side of the pool and peer over to watch the white crests of the waves, which were crashing loudly directly below us. Cameras weren't allowed to document this "clothing optional" event, so the above photo (from late in the day on Wednesday) is all you get.
...and a post breakfast walk.
Made it for the 1AM swim at Esalen this "morning." It was a perfect night for it - stars bright in a clear sky, with only a thick eyelash of a moon. From where I soaked, I could lean my arms on the side of the pool and peer over to watch the white crests of the waves, which were crashing loudly directly below us. Cameras weren't allowed to document this "clothing optional" event, so the above photo (from late in the day on Wednesday) is all you get.Waking up the next morning, my little tent:
...and a post breakfast walk.
Just down the road, Sand Dollar Beach:
Somewhere north of San Simeon, I pass a pull-out with a huge stretched of beach lined with railings, with people leaning on them. The two cars in front of my turn on, and I snobbily (figuratively) shake my head and drive past. I haven't gotten a quarter of a mile down the road, when I spot the smooth fatty cigar shapes of what look like seals.
And I remember a friend telling me about a beach where the elephant seals hang out to mate and pup. It is 0h-so-worth turning around for! A crazy, entertaining, fun sight.
I get to my campground in Ventura right as the sun is setting. It is (of course!) closed. I find out later that has something to do with flooding from unusually high tides. I have no backup plan, and no other information on the area. So I play around on my phone to try and find the right combination of words to Google so that I don't get the address of a scary cement RV parking lot. Finally, when it is fully dark, I wind up at Carpentier State Beach, about halfway between Ventura and Santa Barbara. There are tents and RVs and families and little kids. Today is Veteran's Day, and many people seem to be taking a long weekend.
I meet up with my friend Sue in Indio, CA, where an old friend of hers from high school lives and where we provision for the weekend. Another jump, this time to manicured, gated communities surrounded by not-much-but-
desert. The grocery store has dozens of "Golf Cart Parking" spaces, which are filled by all manner of fancy golf carts.
There is also a neighborhood road runner.
Think it may be my first!
We arrive in Joshua Tree around 3:30PM, only to find that all of the campgrounds are full for the weekend and our only option is "backcountry." And that the sun sets here around 4:30PM. Turns out to be an unexpected good fortune, though, because "backcountry" means nothing more than a mile off the road and 500' from the nearest trail - across shrubby, largely flat, land. And there are backcountry sign-in boards at the best locations. So we hustle off to the first recommended one and book it to a swell in the ground which
conveniently marks a mile. We set up camp as the sun is setting (sound familiar?) - although the moon - when the sun does go 
down, and at still less than a half - is absurdly bright. I sleep in my tent (although wind up leaving the door completely tied back so I can see the stars from inside) while Sue opts to sleep on the ground outside. It is absurdly quiet - no crickets, no birds - just a light breeze. And even better, no bugs!
* * *
The silence is almost stunning, although the wind has picked up a bit. I come across what the ranger from the day before told me were the only sand dunes in the park. They are not nearly as large as these pictures make them look, but very cool to come across.
After breakfast, we are in high spirits with the sun and the weather and the prospects for the day. And then, we reach the rental car:
Puts a crimp in the mood. After a few seconds of staring, and photos, we turn on the car to check the gas - still nearly 1/4 tank, not bad, especially considering we had 1/2 to start. And they even left us the hose - so, worst case scenario, we could always siphon someone else - asking first, of course. Such thoughtful thieves.
We are on the
Colorado Desert side of the Park, so drive into the possibly more stunning, quintessentially "Joshua Tree" Mojave Desert side. The rest of the day is walking, scrambling up multiple poop-piles of rocks, and goofy photos
of yoga poses (in honor of you, Karen! Though please ignore my bad form...). We even 
manage to set up camp an hour or so before the sun starts to set.
Which meant, however, that I'm not even sure if we made it past 6:30PM awake, despite lying back and watching the stars post-dinner. (Btw, extra points if you can spot my tent in the above picture.)
The sun wakes me as usual, and as I roll over and look out the door of my tent, I see a white face and then a fuzzy butt trotting out of sight at the top of a boulder pile, so briefly that I am not sure whether or not it was my imagination. One more rock scramble, in search of the elusive kid.
An hour and a half later, no kid (err... lamb?) but I am content with my exploration, and return to find Sue stretching from the day before (which my body agrees is a good thing). We leave in search of gas and "fancy" coffee (only one of which we actually found), drive back through the park and stretch our legs at a hidden-feeling loop to a reservoir, and head back, reluctantly, to civilization (although the shower idea cooled the sting a bit).
A full blown travel day. The highlight of my trip is at the beginning, where I am nearly arrested for taking this picture, on I-10:
After some 20 minutes - which centers around taking my driver's license and running a background check on me - the passing policeman finally allows himself to be convinced that I am not working for a terrorist organization with plans to blow up a fruit stand and thus shut down this main thoroughfare through western-southern California, and I am on my way. I feel like I may have made his day.
The rest of my day consists primarily of driving along I-5, which turns out to be an uninspiring dust bowl lined with reeking cattle farms and signs blaming politicians for the water shortage. It is where I can only imagine Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath took place, and I drive without stopping until I reach the San Jose airport (err... well, until I reach the outlet shops in Gilroy). There is sadly not enough time for one last detour to the ocean, but I consider the trip a tremendous success, all-in-all. Til next time! :)
And later that day, I leave Big Sur. I am driving down to a campsite I found online that is in Ventura, CA, within a moderate driving distance of my friend, Sue, who is flying into Ontario, CA. She is meeting me to spend the weekend playing in the rocks in the dry and heat of Joshua Tree National Park. I have no real agenda, though I had of course dawdled in the morning, and now have a lot of driving to do.
Somewhere north of San Simeon, I pass a pull-out with a huge stretched of beach lined with railings, with people leaning on them. The two cars in front of my turn on, and I snobbily (figuratively) shake my head and drive past. I haven't gotten a quarter of a mile down the road, when I spot the smooth fatty cigar shapes of what look like seals.
And I remember a friend telling me about a beach where the elephant seals hang out to mate and pup. It is 0h-so-worth turning around for! A crazy, entertaining, fun sight.
I get to my campground in Ventura right as the sun is setting. It is (of course!) closed. I find out later that has something to do with flooding from unusually high tides. I have no backup plan, and no other information on the area. So I play around on my phone to try and find the right combination of words to Google so that I don't get the address of a scary cement RV parking lot. Finally, when it is fully dark, I wind up at Carpentier State Beach, about halfway between Ventura and Santa Barbara. There are tents and RVs and families and little kids. Today is Veteran's Day, and many people seem to be taking a long weekend.* * *
DAY FOUR (Friday)
I wake up to a completely different world than that in which I have been, 
but all of a sudden I am tempted to spend the entire weekend doing nothing but sunning myself on the beach. It is quite lovely for a rather urban campground. (Although the passenger trains clanking through a few times every hour might help keep the crowds down.) A slow morning, and then I head east.
I wake up to a completely different world than that in which I have been, 
but all of a sudden I am tempted to spend the entire weekend doing nothing but sunning myself on the beach. It is quite lovely for a rather urban campground. (Although the passenger trains clanking through a few times every hour might help keep the crowds down.) A slow morning, and then I head east.
I meet up with my friend Sue in Indio, CA, where an old friend of hers from high school lives and where we provision for the weekend. Another jump, this time to manicured, gated communities surrounded by not-much-but-
desert. The grocery store has dozens of "Golf Cart Parking" spaces, which are filled by all manner of fancy golf carts.There is also a neighborhood road runner.
Think it may be my first!
* * *
Joshua Tree, Day 1
We arrive in Joshua Tree around 3:30PM, only to find that all of the campgrounds are full for the weekend and our only option is "backcountry." And that the sun sets here around 4:30PM. Turns out to be an unexpected good fortune, though, because "backcountry" means nothing more than a mile off the road and 500' from the nearest trail - across shrubby, largely flat, land. And there are backcountry sign-in boards at the best locations. So we hustle off to the first recommended one and book it to a swell in the ground which
conveniently marks a mile. We set up camp as the sun is setting (sound familiar?) - although the moon - when the sun does go 
down, and at still less than a half - is absurdly bright. I sleep in my tent (although wind up leaving the door completely tied back so I can see the stars from inside) while Sue opts to sleep on the ground outside. It is absurdly quiet - no crickets, no birds - just a light breeze. And even better, no bugs!* * *
DAY FIVE (Saturday)
Joshua Tree, Day 2
I wake up as I feel the sun approach the horizon and quickly grab my camera and scramble out of the tent. Sue is still sleeping (turns out she was up half the night, anxiously watching a mysterious set of three headlamps moving oddly for an hour or more in the middle of the night). So I head out for a little wander and exploration.Joshua Tree, Day 2
The silence is almost stunning, although the wind has picked up a bit. I come across what the ranger from the day before told me were the only sand dunes in the park. They are not nearly as large as these pictures make them look, but very cool to come across.
After breakfast, we are in high spirits with the sun and the weather and the prospects for the day. And then, we reach the rental car:
Puts a crimp in the mood. After a few seconds of staring, and photos, we turn on the car to check the gas - still nearly 1/4 tank, not bad, especially considering we had 1/2 to start. And they even left us the hose - so, worst case scenario, we could always siphon someone else - asking first, of course. Such thoughtful thieves.
We are on the
Colorado Desert side of the Park, so drive into the possibly more stunning, quintessentially "Joshua Tree" Mojave Desert side. The rest of the day is walking, scrambling up multiple poop-piles of rocks, and goofy photos
of yoga poses (in honor of you, Karen! Though please ignore my bad form...). We even 
manage to set up camp an hour or so before the sun starts to set.
Which meant, however, that I'm not even sure if we made it past 6:30PM awake, despite lying back and watching the stars post-dinner. (Btw, extra points if you can spot my tent in the above picture.)
* * *
DAY SIX (Sunday)
Joshua Tree, Day 3
Day 3 is that last day of vacation that, fight as you might, has you thinking about the next steps - the trip home, and the To Do list once you're back... Sigh...
Joshua Tree, Day 3
Day 3 is that last day of vacation that, fight as you might, has you thinking about the next steps - the trip home, and the To Do list once you're back... Sigh...
The sun wakes me as usual, and as I roll over and look out the door of my tent, I see a white face and then a fuzzy butt trotting out of sight at the top of a boulder pile, so briefly that I am not sure whether or not it was my imagination. One more rock scramble, in search of the elusive kid.
An hour and a half later, no kid (err... lamb?) but I am content with my exploration, and return to find Sue stretching from the day before (which my body agrees is a good thing). We leave in search of gas and "fancy" coffee (only one of which we actually found), drive back through the park and stretch our legs at a hidden-feeling loop to a reservoir, and head back, reluctantly, to civilization (although the shower idea cooled the sting a bit).* * *
DAY SEVEN (Monday)
Indio to San Jose, I-5
Indio to San Jose, I-5
A full blown travel day. The highlight of my trip is at the beginning, where I am nearly arrested for taking this picture, on I-10:
After some 20 minutes - which centers around taking my driver's license and running a background check on me - the passing policeman finally allows himself to be convinced that I am not working for a terrorist organization with plans to blow up a fruit stand and thus shut down this main thoroughfare through western-southern California, and I am on my way. I feel like I may have made his day.The rest of my day consists primarily of driving along I-5, which turns out to be an uninspiring dust bowl lined with reeking cattle farms and signs blaming politicians for the water shortage. It is where I can only imagine Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath took place, and I drive without stopping until I reach the San Jose airport (err... well, until I reach the outlet shops in Gilroy). There is sadly not enough time for one last detour to the ocean, but I consider the trip a tremendous success, all-in-all. Til next time! :)
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