My favorite picture so far

A lovely coastal landscape along the Pacific Coast Highway:

Weekend with friends

This weekend was spent in Tustin, California. Not a destination for scenery, but instead one for friends. My foodie friend Melissa lives there with her hubby, and they invited me to hang out for a few days since I was passing through. The days were full of food and good conversation. Steve showed me how DJs use laptops in their mixing, which was super interesting. I could have watched him mix music for hours.

 

Melissa took me out to all sorts of food that I wouldn’t normally have the chance to try. We had Peruvian on Saturday, Vietnamese Pho (mine had tripe, filet, and tendon!) on Saturday night, and authentic Japanese ramen on Sunday:

 

It was a great weekend, and went by entirely too quickly. Alas – come Monday it was time to hit the road again. Thanks to both Steve and Melissa for showing me such a good time:

San Diego

I wake up to the dog barking. It is morning time and there are joggers passing by the truck. Scrappy attempts to protect his truck. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, pull the sun shades out of the windshield, and try to figure out where I am. I got lost trying to find a Wal-Mart with bad directions from a gas station attendant. I drive west, knowing that I will either hit a highway or the ocean. It is the ocean that I am after.

 

We find a highway and I steer the truck towards Ocean Beach. There is a dog beach there where Scrappy can sniff all the butts he pleases as I jog down the sand. The sun is barely up, but the beach is already spotted with dogs and their owners. We run, he sniffs, he humps things, he chases things, he plays in the surf. We are both happy, and cool. We explore all the way up the beach as I try to get a picture of the little man:

 

We walk out to the rocky side of the pier and watch the waves crash on the rocks:

 

I drive to a place called Sunset Cliffs where the parking areas are small and hard to get in and out of. I take a few photos before leaving:

 

We head north and try to find the coastal highway which will carry us to the border of this country. I pull over in Oceanside. A bit of a reverie from a vacation taken a few years ago. I swim in the ocean, I walk the dog all over the place, I eat lunch at the end of a very long pier. I meet a friend from high school for dinner. We go to a seafood place and I eat some tasty clam chowder. We walk a few steps away to watch the sun set:

 

After dinner she goes back home and I sit in Carlsbad wondering what to do. The sound of a live band reminds me that it is Friday night. I take the dog towards the sound and we watch a soul cover band for an hour. Then it’s back to the truck to sleep, with freight trains passing next to me every hour. After the first few they don’t even wake me.

An unbearable heat

So, one problem with the 4runner is that the air conditioning is non-functional. The cost to repair it exceeds my value for the comfort. Or so I thought, until I drove from Phoenix to the Salton Sea…

 

The plan – camp at the Salton Sea. Why? No clue, I’ve just never been there. And so I grabbed my map, and headed west, winding through farm land. As the hours passed the temperature rose. Three stops to buy ice to refill a cooler that couldn’t stay cool. Hours of not having a working phone because the thermal sensor shut it down. The dog throws up in the truck, he won’t eat, he only drinks if there is ice in the bowl. At times I feel as though throwing up might make me feel better too.

 

And water. I drink two and a half gallons throughout the day, and yet I don’t need to pee at all. All that water is escaping back out of my skin. We stop at the Glamis sand dunes simply to break the monotony. I take a picture:

 

As I drive out the truck gets stuck in the sand that has built up in the parking lot. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and now have to spend half an hour digging my tires out and placing brush underneath them. More sweat, and the aggravation of the situation sends even more water out of my eyes as tears. I am a leaking mess.

 

We get to the Salton Sea, but almost all of the campgrounds are closed. I finally find one that is open and pull in, relishing the thought of a cool swim. The sea looks great from a distance:

 

Up close though it smells of rotting fish. There are swarms of flies which are instantly on us, in my mouth and nose as I breath. I wander towards the water, but am stopped short. There is thirty yards of mud, algae, bird crap, and dead fish bodies which I will have to cross if I want to get wet. It is simply not worth it to me, the smell is horrible. Scrappy runs through the sucking mess to the water, when he returns he smells horrible too. We leave shortly thereafter.

 

With hopes of camping here shot down, I do not know where I am going. I simply follow the highway. We pass through date palm fields who seem to enjoy the smelly water. They are heavy with fruit:

 

 

The highway ends at a place called Thousand Palms. I pull into a walmart parking lot, planning to sleep there for the night. I cook a packet of ramen in the back of the truck and try to be happy:

 

I lay down to sleep, but can only toss and turn. The sweat is still seeping out of me, and soon I am rolling around in a puddle. It is too much for me to take. I decide to head for San Diego, it is 10:30 at night. Another look at the map, and asking somebody for directions.

 

And then something magical happens. As I follow the highway out of town it begins to wind upward. Upward into a range of mountains. As the elevation climbs the temperature drops, and soon I am comfortable. There is a scenic turnout which I stop at and breath in the cool air. I stop for a while, just looking down at the heat:

 

I’ve escaped! I am finally cool. The dog will finally drink water, and is able to stop panting. We drive with all the windows open until we reach the beach town. I get lost trying to get to the ocean, and end up parking on a side street and sleeping in the upright driver’s seat. It is 1:30 in the morning and I am tired. But we made it.

Day three of this crazy journey

The day consisted of driving from Kingman to Phoenix. It’s not a long drive, but I took my time – four hours. A stop at Burro Creek campground to eat lunch, and then finally down to Phoenix. I caught up with Matt and Jen, and had a nice relaxing evening. Some pics:

 

One of the many washes along the highway:

 

Burro Creek, with bridge in top left:

 

We tried to get to the water, but cows blocked out path:

 

And my awesome friend Matt:

Pic of the day

I’m drowning in photos, as expected. This will take some time to work out a system where I can keep current on these things.

Currently in San Diego, after a day of unpleasantness and mis-haps yesterday. Starting the trek north. Will put up a more complete post when I can find time to edit and post the photo. :)

 

So this one is from a few weeks back, on a trip near fossil creek:

8-18-2010 Kingman AZ

The first jump in this journey of mine is not very far. A scant hundred or so miles up to Kingman, Arizona.

 

 

A trip to see my Uncle Donnie, whom I haven’t seen in years. This is him:

I spent two nights up here getting to re-know him, and it has been an absolute blast.

We had dinner at ‘the’ mexican joint in town – El Palacio. Great taco, decent chile rellano.

 

I took the dog out for a five mile jog in the desert, which was beautiful but hot. The local wildlife, a few coyotes, decided to start yipping and yapping at us so we turned around. They followed us for about a quarter mile, which was a little disconcerting. Motivation to jog a little faster, I suppose.

 

After the jog we headed into historic downtown Kingman, located on Route 66, to take some pictures.

 

We visited the scenic Mohave County Courthouse:

 

 

They’ve got a thing for trains downtown, as evidenced by this mural on a water tower:

 

As well as this big display piece with a park all to itself:

 

Of course, there are all sorts of Rt-66 specific shops, as you’d expect. Like Mr. D’z:

 

And of course, it wouldn’t be Route 66 if there weren’t Harleys around:

 

After our jaunt downtown Scrappy and I headed up to Hualapai Mountain park to get a hike in. Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. As we pulled up to the pay station the little pitter patter of rain drops started to hit the windshield. Within minutes the huge storm that had been on the other side of the mountain crashed into the park grounds, soaking everything. We decided to drive away instead of wait, which turned out to be a good thing. I kept looking at the mountain throughout the day and it rained up there for a solid five hours!

 

 

The afternoon was spent vegging out at the house, making lunch and editing photos. Today I got in a workout before leaving Unc’s house, and now I’m all packed up and ready to head to Phoenix to see my friend Matt.

Pic of the day

Monsoon showers along Route 66:

And now, it is actually official

I’ve left home. Or, rather, I’ve changed the definition of home. Today I did my last load of laundry at mom’s house and piled everything into the 4Runner. It is ridiculous how much stuff I have packed in this vehicle. I wonder how I will sleep in here, but thankfully that is not a worry for tonight.

 

Tonight I sleep at my Uncle Donnie’s house in Kingman. I haven’t seen him in years, and so getting the chance to catch up with him today has been wonderful. Who knows, I might even stay tomorrow night.

 

Anywho, I’m exhausted from a trip to the gym this morning and an emotional drive away from what has always been home. I’m going to bed.

In case you were curious what a young man looks like when he realizes that he just left it all behind, here it is:

It draws near

I’ve set my departure date as Monday, August 16th. Monday, a scant four days from now. It rushes towards me at alarming speed. As you might expect, there have been some wrenches thrown in the works. The little Mazda truck that I bought? Yeah, that isn’t going to work out as my travel truck. A few small problems have come up that I simply don’t have time to deal with, and so now I try to find a purchaser for it. I have to decided to instead take the 4Runner on this journey, and have nearly gotten it squared away for the trip.

 

The dog is getting restless at mom’s house. He seems to sense that there is something ahead, and he is anxious to get started. So am I. I fill my days with all the small errands that I perceive as necessary. I sign up for a new bank account, I forward my mail, and get rid of as many bills as I can. I buy the last minute items for the trip, and try to get rid of the items I don’t need. I consolidate down to the minimum for travel so that I may have enough room to sleep in the runner. I go to the gym in an attempt to push the anxiety out of myself. I see friends for what may be the last time. I try to enjoy my last few days in Prescott.

 

Not much else to report. I sit on the cusp of this trip with very little idea of where I am going or why. I know simply that it is time to go.

Pic of the day

Another shot from the last trip up to the Grand Canyon:

A quick update

Some quick updates.

- I bought a truck, a little Mazda B2200 pickup. It has a few issues and is at the mechanic.

- I’m living at mom’s house for the next two weeks until I leave town. Her internet is down, so I am unable to post all that I want to.

- I am trying to get all the little details of my life squared away. Trying to sell the non-essential parts of my life. Dealing with craigslist. Etc.

- No new photos, the cameras sit dormant as I run around like a chicken with my head cut off.

- The excitement level builds.

A small house

Jay's small house:

(via Presurfer)

Pic of the day

Another view from Shoshone pt:

The point was quiet, there was no wind

We take a late afternoon drive up to the Grand Canyon. This is probably the last time I will visit this magical place before I leave to see the rest of the country. I joke, I make light of it. “No more big ditch for a while.”

 

But I will miss it. She has shown me something here that I never saw before. A bit of the awe which she feels for the place has rubbed off on me. It saddens some part of me that this will no longer be a scant few hours away. But I am glad to have been here, to have seen this, and to have experienced this with somebody who has a love for it.

 

We are at Shoshone Point, and we are alone. She tells me that the wind normally howls here. Today the point was quiet, there was no wind.

It's quiet here, a little toooo quiet....

Gone gone gone.

I lose my words. I do so in a very literal sense. A journal, nearly full, has decided to leave my side. Disappeared somewhere between the relative safety of my truck seat and the chaotic rest of my life. It was a simple thing of paper and ink, but the ink formed a picture of the man in the mirror. The man is still there, but I wonder now; how he came to exist from the man he was before. How will I look back and learn from those experiences which I will inevitably forget?

 

Not all was lost. About half of it had been transcribed and stored for safekeeping in the cloud of the internet. I check the date on the last entry I typed, and see words of the changing year and snowfall. Six months of recorded thoughts and tumultuous emotion, which I won’t be able to read through in the years to come. It is not a big deal, I tell myself. They were just words, and there will be plenty more of them in the future.

Pic of the day – BIRTHDAY!

I had a birthday, there was a party. My twin sister showed up (among others). It was a good time:

Pic of the day

Big mouth:

Pic of the day

Layers upon layers. They build up, they disappear.