Overcast the entire day. But then it ends with this.

Heaven and Hell: separated by a Purgatory known as Indio

This... this is the Salton Sea.

It is 400 feet below sea level, a prehistoric inland sea that was nothing but a salt pan until 1906. In that year, a levee breach occurred on the Colorado River, refilling this gorgeous inland sea. It took nearly two years to stop the water rushing in, leaving a 'sea' that's 50 miles long and 20 wide.

This was a mecca for fun seekers from the LA basin for decades. Boating and fishing, sunning, drinking, and the surrendering of virginity - Salton Sea is filled with memories for generations of people.

Now, 30 miles from one of the most preposterous displays of wealth, Salton Sea is a treachery beyond description to those generations of memories. Perhaps during other times of the year there are joyous young people frolicking near nakedly in the surf; but I have a feeling if they're frolicking there, they're really poor.












Jail, master, fishing. What do these word hold in common? You triple their value by adding the word 'bait' of course! This is the Bait Shack on the Northshore. Now filled with malt liquor bottles and other signs of sick humanity.






The virginity I mentioned? I'm guessing occasionally lost (perhaps just misplaced) in "Aces and Spades" in the 60's and 70's.

Another 25 miles on down the east shore, past Mecca Beach, we come to Bombay Beach. It is a living, breathing town, consisting of single-wide trailers, double-wide trailers, burned out unidentifiable structures, piles of cars and other modes of transportation, and people of a sort. I was driving a borrowed Lexus and felt like a shit-heel for even pulling in here. But I bought some Fritos and a Coke. I did not, however, stop into "The Ski" bar and food place. It scared me more than I should be scared as a taxpayer free to roam this great country.










This is a home. An operational, people-live-here, home.











This was one of the nicest homes, guarded by none other than Santa.











This was a home too. At some point. The odd thing about Bombay Beach - one of the many odd things - is that every fourth home or so looked like this. Like Katrina had hit it. And no one had ever thought, "I live next to this. I gotta clean this shit up." It was surreal.











This place was on the outskirts. Like he'd been exiled because they didn't like that he had a fighter plane fuel drop tank as a decoration. Not classy enough. Insult to injury? The tank is full of bullet holes.











My favorite thing about the whole place was this sign at the far corner of the settlement.

Joshua Tree

I woke too early today after too little shite sleep. It was windy last night, and I imagined the airplane windmilling around at the airport, smacking into expensiver airplanes. There were no tiedowns, so I could only chock the wheels. (They're used to airplanes that are so big that they don't tie down. Lears. G-IVs. Big iron.) It, of course, did not move in the night; but such is the useless chemical maundering of a better-than-average human brain through the course of a night.

The silver lining to this crap night of sleep is that I had nothing - no...single...thing - I had to do today. Joshua Tree emerged as the natural course of action.

Joshua Tree is a special place to me. (I'd write "special, special place" but it sounds twee. But it really is.) For a pretty non-mystical-experience kind-of-guy, I've had full-on, headspinning things happen in and around J.Tree. Absolutely unexplainable. And it unfortunately taints any trip I take there, because I wait for the shoes to start dropping.

Today was too cold and too breezy for great mysticism. I wore shorts, but by the Ocotillo patch down at the south end, I had taken them off and put pants on. I only wished I'd brought a coat. I would have stayed longer. But not a lot. It was just cold. And up at Key it was windy. No wonder it was bumpy flying in over there yesterday.

Regardless, it was a fine day. Not many humans, which is always a good day for me, but unfortunately cold enough to keep most creatures in under the ground. I did see a crow that was about the size of a Prius, and a rabbit who did not want to be seen by me.













Ocotillo. Just Ocotillo. How old is this damn thing?







I put a few red dots over the rabbit's head. Go jack, go...










Oyster Bar. Big Bloody Rock.






And then... coming out the north edge of the park, one is confronted with the shocking dearth of value embodied in the 'town' of Joshua Tree. Why this has not been embraced by a year-round habitude of climbing people and hip hoteliers, granola munching mystics and mountain bike renting young capitalists... I just don't know. But it hasn't. It's a shit hole of desert rats in single-wide mobile homes and rundown liquor stores and junk. Anyone want to buy a town? It's a destination waiting for a caretaker.

Outta the Valley

A bliss weekend in Solvang, CA, with Dick and June. Great old friends of the family. Gail and Leslie flew down, and we had a fine reunion.

I got there a day early and stayed a day late. I couldn't get enough of Dick and June and Paco the 115 pound labrador, and, of course, Jake and Manon the grandchildren. Just a nice visit.

I flew out today. The unbelievable cold snap holds down here, though it will be shaken off here in the next couple of days. I was going to go on to Tucson, but who wants Tucson in January at 42 degrees? I wanted 70 dammit.

So I've landed at Palm Springs and commandeered a friend's condo at the Tennis Club, and their car. Some wicked turbulence leaving the Santa Ynez valley (which I smartly turned out of and diverted an extra 20 minutes to be clear of). Going into PS from the west - Riverside - aircraft were reporting moderate to severe turbulence. Severe is defined with terms like "momentary losses of control of aircraft" and "loose objects in cabin become projectile". So I went north to 29 Palms, with the intention of landing there if there was no good way into the Coachella Valley. I talked to PS approach control who said there were few reports of turbulence in my area, and dropped into the valley over Joshua Tree, experiencing a few good jolts, but nothing like the west side.

I have bourbon in my glass, the heat is on, and I'm blogging in my shorts in Palm Springs. I cannot describe my joy of life sometimes.




















Richard has lived in the Valley his entire 70 years, and he's never heard of icicles anywhere. I took this picture up at Nojoqui Falls out beyond Alisal Ranch. Three foot icicles hanging from the moss.











Paco knows where the food emerges every day. He sleeps near it just in case the food arrives unexpectedly.















Out to Santa Barbara and the Santa Catalina Islands beyond. San Marcos pass winds through the mesquite. The turbulence shook me from my reverie about three minutes later.

Windy clear cold

I packed up on Friday, and after spending 20 minutes breaking the ice from the inner workings of the hangar doors I was able to roll them open. Got some fuel, then jumped in a friend's RV6 to fly south. He doesn't get to fly it much these days, so he's loaned it to me for two weeks.

Seattle was clear and cold and almost windless. But by the time I was passing Mt. Rainier, I had a tailwind of about 40 mph. No bumps, just free speed.

I'm in Santa Ynez now, and it's cold here, too, but it warms up to about 50 during the day. Abnormally chilly everywhere in the west right now, but man is it clear.

Here are a few shots of my trip south.










Mt. Saint Helens growing and growling.











Crater Lake











Mt. Shasta. The wind down here was 50 - 60 mph. It got bumpy right after Shasta. I had to land at Red Bluff - 20 gusting 35. Landing was like ballet in boots.










And this is the ocean near San Luis Obispo, 10 minutes from landing at Santa Ynez.