High Desert Chill

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December 15, 2022- Skull Rock really does look forbidding. The formations that dot Joshua Tree National Park are all pretty aptly named, though I must admit that the Hall of Horrors did not seem all that harrowing. My hikes were rather limited by the lingering chill that has decided to stick around the Southwest, for several more days-in lieu of a week of snow and rain that was forecast, as recently as a week ago.

This first visit to the crown jewel of the Mohave. After three days along the coast, the inspiration came to head northeast, along CA 62. Here are seven photos of the park’s main route, from the West Entrance, in the town of Joshua Tree, to Cottonwood Springs, just west of Chiriaco Summit. While the trees which some Mormon settlers thought reminded them of the Prophet Joshua, with his arms upraised in triumph, give their name to the Park, the rock formations are what bring visitors back to the area, time and again.

Keys West
Near Quail Springs
Butte, near Hemingway Campground
Quail Springs climbing area
Hall of Horrors
Skull Rock
Jumbo Rocks

The day started off with a breakfast from Zebra House, in downtown San Clemente, my first experience with ordering a meal from a computer screen, when there was a full crew standing at the counter. It does help the team streamline orders, but I felt a bit awkward doing things this way. The breakfast burrito was excellent, though, and I got to exercise more options. As with any novel experience, I would be more relaxed next time.

The drive across CA 76, 15, 79 and 74 brought me to a more familiar place, Gramma’s Country Kitchen, in Banning-as usual, taking a place at the counter. Half a tuna melt and a few steak fries later, I was headed towards Joshua Tree. It was, as said earlier, a chilly visit-weather-wise, but I encountered several friendly folks, both park rangers and visitors, especially rock climbers, who were planning each step very carefully. Most memorable were a newlywed couple, in their nuptial attire, being photographed at various landmarks. My paternal self fretted, just a bit, for the bride, in such lightweight attire. It was not surprising, about fifteen minutes later, to see the young lady wrapped in a blanket, with a forlorn look on her face. I hope the rest of their life together is more well considered.

Chiriaco Cafe’s chili added a fine finishing touch to a lightly-planned, but fascinating afternoon. It will not be my last visit to Joshua Tree, not by a long shot.

A Day of Small Parades

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November 11, 2019, Santa Monica-

For the first time in several years, I was not in Prescott for Veteran’s Day.  The three-day weekend coincided with key events that I have already described and with a long-standing visit to Orange County and Los Angeles.  I honour my fellow veterans and my own service, almost on a daily basis, in thought, word and deed.  Coming by other communities’ parades, if it came to that, would not be such a bad thing.

As it happened, a few veterans were at Gramma’s Country Kitchen, when I took a seat at the counter.  We quietly enjoyed our breakfasts, the regulars gathered in their group and I headed off, towards Hemet, Menifee and Lake Elsinore.  Traffic in the Riverside County suburbs was rather light, for a day of considerable commercial activity.

I chose the winding Ortega Highway as my route to the coast.  There were clusters of commuters, for whom I pulled over, as my first order of business was checking the water level of the reservoir for which the city of Lake Elsinore is named.  It looked to me that the lake is hurting, a bit, which is surprising, given the high water levels of reservoirs north of Los Angeles.

The views from the bluffs east of town were nonetheless impressive, though.

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There is a face, of sorts, chiseled into the limestone bluff, in the middle.

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Winding along Highway 74, as the Ortega is otherwise known, I came upon El Cariso, a wide spot in the road, which hosts the California Wildland Firefighters’ Memorial. It was initiated to honour the six firefighters killed in the Decker Fire, in 1959.  There is a trail from the memorial plaque to the actual site where the men died.   As I was due to meet a friend at Crystal Cove State Park, the trail was put off for another time.

Here are some scenes from the Memorial site.

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These scenes show the general area where the tragedy took place.

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My next stop, a bit north of Laguna Beach, was Crystal Cove, a state park which features beach cabins, in various states of disrepair-especially on the north side of the park.  My friend, J, who lives about an hour away, has visited the site several times.  I’ve been with her on four such visits, and am always interested in the progress, or lack thereof, in the renovation.

It appears, this time, that the work is being done in earnest.

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There were scattered birds looking for their meals, as the tide was out.  This little one appears to be a kind of sandpiper.

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Some children had compiled a cross between a cairn and a rock castle.  The stone on the front left reminded me, a bit, of Spirit Tower, in northeast Wyoming.

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With that, our table ringer vibrated and we went to lunch at Beachcomber’s.  The problems of the world, or at least our individual corners of it, were resolved over a fresh repast. I even was given a second bowl of tomato soup, whether by mistake or because I was wearing an American Legion t-shirt, is open to interpretation.  The meals were great, in any case, and I made dinner out of what was left, this evening.

On the way north  along the coast, from Crystal Cove, I stopped in Lomita, where I had stayed at a reasonable motel in the past.  I found it had become a residential motel, whose owner would not accommodate anyone staying one night, and that  it was a cash only operation.

I continued on, past the South Bay beach towns and Long Beach, opting to stay in Santa Monica, at Rest Haven Motel, as Venice and Santa Monica are on my itinerary for tomorrow.  Rest Haven’s  staff are very kind and accommodating. This day has been a full one, but also very affirming.

NEXT:  Canalside Reflections

Mere Conversation

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February 18, 2019-

Upon returning from southern California, I reflected on three conversations I had there, yesterday and today.

The matter of personal finance is a tricky one.

One must, however, listen to and take the best

from all schools of thought,

then apply to own circumstances.

Travel is a broadening experience.

It must not, however, be done in

an undisciplined manner,

nor in lieu of a more challenging

and necessary course of business.

No matter how far one is from

a place where one is meant to be,

there will appear a connection,

between people and things that

are important in a home situation,

and those who are encountered

in another place,

which one is meant to visit.

At breakfast this morning,

in a place called Gramma’s  Country Kitchen,

where I have sat, numerous times,

at the counter,

and enjoyed a warm meal,

with an even warmer welcome,

I heard another voice of reason.

He said that building barriers,

and setting rules for air and water,

in one place,

will not amount to a hill of beans,

when across a short distance,

conditions opposite to one’s own,

exist aplenty.

I bid farewell to Mr. Wing,

and drove, without incident,

to the place I call Home Base.

 

A SoCal Break, Day 1, Part 1: Recreation Park

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June 12, 2017, San Onofre, CA-

I am camping at this underutilized state beach, just south of a former nuclear power plant.  The plant’s presence may explain the underutilized part of the equation, but no matter.  Every time I pitch my tent, arrange comfortable bedding and have a pleasant visit, my confidence grows- something that may be hard for many to understand- but it’s been a work in progress, for several years.

My main objective, today, was a hike in the Palos Verdes Peninsula, between Long Beach and Redondo Beach, in LA County’s South Bay area.   First, though, was a visit to Long Beach, itself. I set out from Indio, where I’d spent the previous night, and where I stretched my legs, this morning, with a 2-mile walk.  It’s fairly mild, across Southern California, though that’s not expected to last.  The I-10 was fairly busy, as it always is, though once past the turn-offs to Riverside and San Diego, traffic thinned significantly.  I enjoyed a stop at one of my favourite eateries:  Gramma’s Country Kitchen, in Banning.   After lunch, and taking CA routes 57 and 22, I was in Long Beach, in less than ninety minutes.

I found myself in a pleasant, but definitely untouristed, part of town- the south side.  On Anaheim Street, there is the large, and multiple use, Recreation Park.  Several young ladies were engaged in a variety of artistic activities, on and around the band shell.  I don’t take photos of people, without their permission, as a rule, so any people seen in the next few photos are strictly incidental.  My main focus in Recreation Park was Yokkaichi Friendship Garden, a small, but heartfelt project, in concert with Yokkaichi, Japan- one of Long Beach’s sister cities.

There are three essentials of a Japanese garden that are evident here:  The open gate, arranged flowers (usually in a semi-circle) and carefully-placed rocks.  A fourth essential element, flowing water, is not present.

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Next up, Palos Verdes’ Point Vicente.

 

 

 

Always Welcome

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November 27, 2016, Banning- I am fortunate to find many places, to which I can return, no matter how long it’s been since I have stopped by.  One such is Gramma’s Country Kitchen, in this small, but pleasant city along I-10, east of Riverside.  The decor reminds me of both my Godmother’s kitchen, when I was a child, and various places in which I’ve stopped in the Midwest, over the years.  The owners and waitresses always seem to remember me, from previous visits and the place just feels like home.

My son’s place, in Chula Vista feels likewise, it goes without saying.  It will be strange to go to San Diego, after February, and not have him there to visit.  He will be doing other tasks, in his next duty station, though, and I will continue to feel pride in his achievements.  We had a quiet, but comfortable, visit, over Thanksgiving and will have a few days together, here and there, between now and the time he heads out.

I got back, easily, to Prescott, and it will be a busy, fruitful month ahead- with work for both the Prescott schools and my Faith occupying a great deal of time.  Needless to say, there are plenty of places here, where I likewise always feel welcome.  At the end of this week, for example, the town’s Christmas tree will be lit and all of us in attendance will feel an abundance of welcome, from one another.

As I will write tomorrow, I personally will welcome another year to my chronology:  66. Hope all are rested from a joyful Thanksgiving!

 

The Road to 65, Mile 100: Cowles Mountain

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March 8, 2015, San Diego- This morning found me up early, as is customary during the Baha’i Fast, which falls between March 2-20.  Getting a solid breakfast at Gramma’s Country Kitchen, my favourite restaurant in Banning, and enjoying watching as the team got everything ready for what promised to be a busy Sunday after-church crowd, I rolled out of Banning relatively early.  The drive through Hemet and Menifee, then on down to San Diego, was smooth and uneventful, save for an overturned semi-trailer, near MiraMesa.

Aram and I both rested for a bit; he, because of having had watch, last night and I, because it was Noon and fasting makes a 30-minute nap especially important.  At 2 PM, we headed out to Cowles Mountain, in Mission Trails Park, on the east side of town.  It is the highest peak within the city limits.

I was my usual self, maintaining a steady pace and taking lots of photos.  It had been a while since I hiked uphill, so it was a rather decent cardio workout.

Here are a few photos, before I put the lot of them in Flickr. Aram, feeling in need of a brisk start, blazed ahead, with my blessing.

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We had fine views of San Diego, to the southwest, and the Cuyamaca Range, to the east.

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The scrub and sandstone were our hosts, and there were dozens of hikers out enjoying the picture-postcard afternoon.

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Lake Murray, a reservoir that is part of Mission Trails Park, is visible from the south face of Cowles Mountain.  It is a popular fishing and boating venue for San Diegans.

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I reached the top in about forty minutes.  It being 83 out, the sweat was not shy about making itself known.

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George Cowles, a pioneer in the area in the 1870’s, lent his name to the mountain.SAM_4482

On the way down, I got a better sense of the alignment of various boulders.  They are almost like family groupings.

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At the foot of Cowles Mountain, near a covered trash barrel, I spotted this canyon, in which lurked- a Sandbag Boa Constrictor! 🙂

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This was a truly fine day, capped by dinner at Zorba’s, a Greek cafe between the airport and Point Loma.  San Diego never disappoints.  Neither does my son.