Anza Borrego Part X - The Never Ending Highway

After nine long, cold, wet, dirty, hungry and tiring (i.e., wonderful!) days, it was finally time leave Anza Borrego and head towards civilization. While sad to leave the park, the prospect of a shower that didn’t require me to feed coins into it every 2 minutes was too much. Plus, I promised that Analee would get to see and touch the Pacific Ocean, and the fact we had a plane to catch…boo!

One Last Look at Agua Caliente

Having taken complete advantage of the pool the night before, we did not stay long in Agua Caliente that morning. Analee broke camp in record speed…she must have been looking forward to using a restroom that did not have a spider around every corner. It was probably good that we didn’t dilly dally or I would have gotten all sentimental about the campground and the good times I’ve had there the last 28 years. So, we donated all of our left over camping supplies (i.e., propane, aluminum foil, etc.) to the other campers by leaving them in our trusty CFC Styrofoam cooler at the indoor pool. Those coolers may wreak havoc on the environment, but you can’t beat the price and convenience! Having rid ourselves of all perishables, we headed out of camp for lunch in a now snow-free Julian.

Goodbye, My Old Friend.

While a few days late, we did finally get apple pie in Julian at Mom’s Apple Pie store. Had a nice lunch of homemade sandwiches and hot coffee (although the snow was gone, it was still bleeding cold up there). I remember the restaurant being crowded, and people jockeying and fighting for position at the register to have their order taken. As I heard people complain about lines, and cutting, I missed the desert already. What is the rush, people? The country restaurant also had community tables, and we sat next to a couple with their two tots. The mom apologized for their kids mess and rambunctious behavior…I nodded and smiled. I should have said, “they are two years old, let them be two.” I didn’t. I don’t like confrontation, plus my opinion, while I think is right, others would disagree 100% with. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll forget all my opinions when we have children.

Chock full of pie and java, we began the decent into to the Pacific basin towards Escondido, my grandparents old town. Yet again, I was amazed at the quick topographic, climate and vegetative transition from the desert, through the mountains and down to the coastal plain. From cactus to navel oranges in 25 miles! We also passed the San Diego Wild Animal Park...we should have stopped. Best zoo ever!

I can Almost Taste Those Oranges!

We stopped briefly in Escondido for fuel and were sorely disappointed. The entire town has gone to the dogs make that perros. I thought we took a wrong turn and were in Northern Mexico. My grandparents’ old apartment complex was covered in “gangsta” graffiti, while “chollos” or hood rats congregated on street corners. My grandpa would have had a fit. Don’t worry, I had one for him. Seeing the town decimated, we headed out towards Doheny State Park, our intended stay for the night…

After passing through another useless immigrant checkpoint on Interstate 5, we neared Doheny and the heavens began to open up again. We just couldn’t catch a break. I for one was not going to sleep in the rain one more night, so we decided to skip out on our reservation. I could tell Analee was upset because we weren’t going to be sleeping on the beach, but the weather had quite literally rained on my parade. Thus, we began our drive up the never ending highway…Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).

The Never Ending Highway

I want to go on the record right now that PCH should not be called a “highway” because highways DO NOT have street lights!!! For some reason I was panicky that day, and all those stop lights, plus the insane amount of traffic was causing my stomach to churn. I was probably stressed because we now had no “reserved” place to stay. Like it’s that hard to find a hotel room in Los Angeles, well…

Still plodding up PCH in the drizzle, or fog, or whatever it was (my sister, Amy, would call it gunky-ick-poo), we came to a standstill in Laguna Beach. This place was a fuster cluck unlike any I’ve ever seen. While we were stuck in traffic, Analee informed me that MTV has/had a show based in Laguna Beach, hence, now the place was a major tourist spot for teenage hos, I mean girls. Trapped at one light, we saw two girls, who I kid you not, were overflowing out of their clothes. One poor girl must have been a size 18 squeezed into a 6. Her belly was boiling over her mini skirt, while her thighs looked like two pigs fighting over a corncob. Her face was painted up like a trollop, and her upper body was squeezed like a sausage into a tiny graphic tee appropriately labeled “Juicy”. I understand that it’s teen rebellion, but when I was a teen, girls rebelled with baggy shirts, pitch forked hair and stirrup tights, while boys wore flannel shirts and backwards baseball caps. We may have looked retarded, but at least we didn’t look like prostitutes. Enough ranting…

Ana's First View of the Pacific

Finally out of Laguna Beach, we continued northward, like so many of our Illegal Mexican friends, in the search of food and shelter in the Los Angeles basin. Amazingly, the remainder of the drive was uneventful. We finally rolled into Los Angeles about six hours after we left Anza. Should have been 3 hours, but hey, we were on vacation! Now, the search for a hotel began. While looking for a hotel, I realized that I had never paid attention to where hotels were near my old stomping grounds, Palos Verdes. Since I wasn’t a “player” in high school, I had no idea where a cheap place to stay was…that was a joke. After being turned away from several hotels (one of them I know was because I was dirty…undesirable to the rich Iranian running the counter), we found a Days Inn at the foothills of Palos Verdes. The place was expensive, the room was a touch, um, gross, but there was a bed and hot water. It was a palace as far as I was concerned. Topped off from a $10 meal for two at the Mexican Riviera (best Mexican food in the world, just don’t order a “wine-a-rita”), we snuggled and fell asleep in a warm, dry bed.

UP NEXT - Part XI - Green Sticks & Slippery Rocks