Manifest Destiny

I have approached this new leg of my journey with apprehension—spending this summer following the west coast from Los Angeles to Seattle. There has been something about making my way up the coast of California that has been unsettling to me. I spent months with less knowledge of, or planning for, my wandering around Montana, northern Idaho and eastern Washington last summer and did not experience this vague sensation. But, finally being here, I do not find it to be as challenging as just plain uncomfortable. There are SSSOOOO many people here! The energy level is a bit overwhelming.

Maybe that feeling is why I spent several more weeks in the desert as I slowly made my way from Phoenix to the coast—the payoff was that I continued to find more and more remarkable blooms, vistas and very warm days.

Palo Verde

Yuma Neighborhood Beavertail

Ocotillo-my favorite cactus

Cholla Garden, Joshua Tree National Park

Cholla

Prickly Pear

Hedgehog

 

 

RANDOM OBSERVATIONS

z   Yuma was larger than I expected and with the nicest library that I’ve encountered for the size of the town.

z   When I looked at the map, I chose to spend my birthday at the Fountain of Youth RV park on the east side of the Salton Sea. Appropriate, huh? Haven’t noticed any changes yet, but I’ll give it a bit more time.

z   I have always been curious about Joshua Tree National Park and spent two separate trips there—south and north. As unique as it is, unlike Death Valley, I doubt if I will return.

z    Ahh, and then the Coachella Valley—Desert Hot Springs, Indio, Palm Springs. A huge difference from the Salton Sea, though not that different elevation-wise. And there just happened to be approximately 30,000 gays gathered for the 37^th annual, world’s premier gay dance party. Also very different than the cadre of folks abandoning the Fountain of Youth to return to those chillier climates where they spend the hotter summer months.

Wind Turbines at Palm Springs

z    I skirted around Los Angeles/San Diego, which is a very large skirt, and made landfall on the coast (from the landward direction) in Ventura. Yippee! I rode my bike everywhere, spent days in the sunshine amongst vegetation that delighted me and left me wondering what in the heck I was admiring.

z    A lot of the surfers in Ventura traveled back and forth to the beach by bike. Many of them had a couple of modified S-shaped hooks that went over the back of their bikes and held their surf boards—would work for skis and maybe on a snow machine!

z    You would think that after using multiple clothes dryers of assorted and unknown temperaments that there would be a point when your clothes no longer shrank. I am unwilling to consider that there are other reasons that my clothes might no longer fit.

z    Such a remarkable, and unsustainable, complex of lush, productive agricultural areas in the Imperial Valley and Inland Empire abutting extreme bare, dry, desert environs.

z   And the number of wholesale and retail flower nurseries between Ventura and Santa Barbara!

z    As much reading as I have done on environmental issues, especially energy -related, I was taken aback by the sight of drilling platforms off the coast of Ventura and Santa Barbara. Reality check.

z    So many towns, streets, businesses and other names begin with “Santa”; Santa Clarita, Santa Barbara, Santa Ynez. But I giggled when I saw the exit sign for “Santa Claus Road.”

z    There is a distinct lack of big, burly trucks and vehicles that require diesel fuel, which makes finding a gas station that carries it difficult in some places. It also probably is the reason that the Whole Foods parking lot had the tiniest spaces allocated for cars that I have ever seen!

z    I do confess that driving up the main street of Santa Barbara was a surprise. It was so beautiful and such a thriving downtown that I kept thinking that I should go shopping! I even sent out a text to my family to see if anyone needed anything.

z   After a couple of days of unbelievable winds on the beach at Carpentaria, I walked from my camp site along the beach to the north where I saw a family working on their property combating the effects of the wind-blown sand. Their two dogs were romping in the waves and I have never felt as full of joy as I did seeing this young German short-haired pointer watching for the perfect wave and then plunging into them as gleefully as any surfer. It was pure fun and happiness!

Carpenteria

Dozing the Beach After 50-60 mph winds!

Carpenteria Beach

 

 

Wishing all of you pure joy and happiness—with or without the waves.