Thursday, March 13, 2008

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

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Anza Borrego Part IX - Vacation from Vacation

With almost all of our hikes and activities completed, we had a leisurely ninth day (Granted, there are millions of other hikes, and trails we’d love to do, but we had to save something for another trip!). Therefore, the first order of the day was to head back to the Pictograph Trail in Blair Valley. We had previously tried to do this trail twice before but were turned away by blustery winds one day and torrential downpours the next. Hell or high water, we were going on this hike.

The Pictograph Trail is yet another Thornburg Family staple, as it is a gentle upslope walk with the ever kid-popular pictographs. I always felt like Indiana Jones on this hike, trudging my way on a long, dangerous hike to find a puzzling inscription left by an ancient race to find their hidden treasure. Why must imagination ebb as we age?

Anyways, about half way through the hike, we spotted another Yoni high off the trail. It’s amazing how much more you evidence of Indian habitation you find when you take the time to look! Before long, we were in front of a huge boulder that held yellow and red pictographs. Analee and I spent a while trying to interpret the pictures with no avail until Analee blurted out “It looks like directions!” Amazingly, I think she is right. There was a sun, mountains, what looked like a river or water, etc. The pictograph appeared to show their migratory route. We were probably 100% wrong, but wouldn’t it be neat if we weren’t.

Another Yoni off the Pictograph Trail

After the standard “take a picture of me in front of the pictograph” pictures, we ventured further down the trail, as recommended by our numerous books. As a child, we always stopped at the pictograph and never ventured further. If only we’d gone on…Past the pictograph, we found several large village sites at the edge of the valley floor. There was evidence of long lost civilization, and more recent signs, such as an id tag with the national anthem on the front, like the one I used to wear in elementary school. What an odd trinket to find, however, I left it there for someone else to discover.

Indi-Ana Jones and the Mysterious Pictographs

As this valley comes to a close, it opens up into Smuggler’s Canyon. From this vantage point, you can see the entire Vallecito Valley below, as you are atop a 50 to 75 foot dry waterfall. It was an amazing view of the canyon, valley and the distant Laguna Mountains. If only the Thornburg Family had ventured further…



At the Head of Smuggler's Canyon (I Love this Picture!)

Next, we traveled to Mine Canyon in the Mescal Bajada. Here is an excavated village site located half way up the wash. At the end of the wash is an old gold mine that we didn’t bother going to. As we approached the village site, we say a good old yellow school bus. Field trip…yeah. Seeing the bus, we stalled around the car, ate lunch, and hoped that they’d leave soon. No such luck. Tired of waiting, we began our hike to the Mine Wash Village.

Smuggler's Canyon

Approaching the village, I could hear the incessant bleating of pubescent tweens. Don’t get me wrong, I love children, but not when they interfere with our vacation. Of course, all of the kids were hanging around the good spots, and were in and out of all the caves and rock shelters. At one point, I remember their “teacher” (looked like a reject from the Hell’s Angels) telling the kids to come down the mountain. I watched as three kids tried to climb down the front of a 25-foot boulder with no handholds. Luckily, their teacher was watching too, and guided them around the drop off. Was I ever that stupid when in the desert? Yes.

Indiana Dork Looking for Artifacts

Anyways, while the kids were ruining all the rock shelter exploration, Analee and I began looking for pottery shards. Once we trained our eyes, they were everywhere. We found pieces from the size of a stamp up to a post-it note. If it wasn’t for those kids, I never would have taken the time to inspect the ground. After finding tons of shards and fleck pieces of stone (discards from arrowheads, etc.) we made our way back to the car. Now it was decision time. It was early afternoon, and there was still one hike left that I wanted to do. The choice was: (A) hike two miles up a mountain and into a valley to look for Indian sites or (B) sit in a hot pool. Guess which one we chose 

Our Sanctuary

We had four hours now to soak in the pool, and relax. It was time for our vacation from vacation. Now let me tell you about all the characters we met in the pool while on the trip. These will be in no particular order:

James Cameron’s Cousin – One night, we were accosted by an annoying man who claimed to be James Cameron’s cousin. I tried to feign ignorance as to who James Cameron was until he said that he directed the Titanic…I hated that movie. Anyways, he blathered on and on about how he was writing a movie about the Civil War (that’s never been done before, duh!). He continued to try and convince me that the Civil War was a conspiracy set in action by European Governments. Good luck on that movie mister!

V-Suit Lady – As previously mentioned, the lady with the new “assets” and with the horrific teeth. Analee was severely disturbed by her lack of oral hygiene. Should have spent the boob-money on dentures!

The Four Hippies – While the snowstorm roiled on, 4 college students showed up one night. Nothing too much to note here, except for that they didn’t shower getting into the pool…eww, and that they burned incense in the locker room. You are fooling no one dudes.

Back Scab Man – The name says it all. Thank God for chlorine.

Ms. See Through Pants – I was almost horrified to the point of celibacy when I saw a elderly lady wearing see-through shorts take a shower in front of everyone thus showing her “pelt” to everyone.

Jerry Garcia – This gentleman enjoyed the above mentioned shower enough to lick his lips while it was going on…I think I’m going to be sick remembering this stuff.

A Nice but Slightly Amnesia Ridden Lady – Exactly as it sounds. She was always pleasant and talked to us each night. Of course, she talked to us about the same thing every night!

Ranger Dick – This was the power-hungry ranger who exerted his authority on us all by announcing to the pool goers “Since I’m in a good mood, I won’t write tickets to those of you who parked illegally outside the pool.” Ranger Dick indeed.

The Commies – One night had three Russian Jews and two Chinese. I couldn’t tell you what they were talking about.

The Fat Healers – As described, a bunch of obese women performing healing on other obese women by placing their hands near a person, not on a person, and then chanting…OHHHHMMMMM.

The Pre-Teen Starers – Two 10-year-old girls who constantly stared at me whenever I was in the common locker room, shower, bathroom, etc.

The Cannonballer – My favorite person. One day, I wanted to rinse my feet off at the pool to prevent getting sand in my shoes. I was already dressed and at the pool edge, when some man came running out of nowhere and did a cannonball right in front of me, soaking me to the bone. I tried to say something to him, and he just laughed, began talking to himself and swam away.

What Dorks do in the Dark

UP NEXT – Anza Borrego Part X: The Never Ending Highway

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Anza Borrego Part VIII - Thank God for GPS

Where to begin, where to begin? While on our trip, Analee and I tended to rotate the day’s activities based upon whether it was time for geological or anthropological hikes. Day 8 was definitely a geology day, as we spent the entire time in the northern part of the park near the famed Split Mountain. However, before going to the Split Mountain / Fish Creek area, we tried, yet again, to find the elusive Pumpkin Patch (if you recall, the pumpkin patch is an area of sandstone concretions that look like, you guessed it, pumpkins…you’re so smart). The Pumpkin Patch is located within the Ocotillo Wells State Vehicular Recreation Area (OWSVRA), which is an area of the park set aside for dirt bikes, 4-wheelers, dune buggies, etc. So, our Trailblazer looked a touch out of place, yet, we never saw anybody while in the OWSVRA (An ominous sign to come).

Quickly, we became familiar with the area because of the “road” signs present at wash intersections (they need the signs because there are zero, nil, zip, nada land marks out there…it’s a gigantic sand box). We easily made our way to the Shell Reef at Diablo Hill (not too hard to find a hill in a sandbox!). This hill is littered with fossilized shells, etc., and one can see the reef in the hillside cut. Impressive to even an engineer! Once satisfied I wouldn’t find an earth-shattering fossil of monumental scientific importance, we continued our never-ending quest to find the pumpkin patch.

I Wonder if He Knows the Way

After failed excursions up two washes, we made our way back to the main wash, where things became real interesting. Unfortunately, we didn’t load the USGS quad maps for the OWSVRA because we were limited on memory space. Even more unfortunate, we began to notice that the road signs were not right. Even more worrisome was the fact that several of the road signs had been knocked over, or people had twisted the sign such that we couldn’t tell which road went in which direction. Frustrated and a tad nervous, we decided to head due east to a row of power lines. We had a map showing this as Pole Line Road (inventive!), and we knew this was our only way out. This was a long, gut wrenching drive, since there was deep sand, plus the area still had mud pockets from the previous rains. Admitting defeat, we turned our backs on the Pumpkin Patch and proceeded out of the OWSVRA using the aptly named, Pole Line Road. I for one could care less about ever venturing back into the OWSVRA, but I’m sure the Daredevil would love to go back and spin her tires in the sandbox.

Back on asphalt (I’d have kissed the stuff if Analee would only stop), we went to the Old Stronitum Mine located near the mouth of Split Mountain Gorge. Heeding our mistake on the Calcite Mine, we took the camera up the long, winding trail to the mine entrance to find…nothing. The mine had long been closed, and all that remained were a few timbers used as rail supports. The most excitement was watching Analee speed past beehives that had taken up residence in old vein holes. Go Ana go! Although we didn’t find any Strontium, I did get a huge sheet of Gypsum that Analee warned would never survive the trip to NC…she was right. If you want a piece for yourself or for 200 of your closest friends, let me know.

Remnants of the Strontium Mine

After a peanut buttery lunch, and a fly over by the US Marines, we entered the Split Mountain Gorge. This area of the park is by far the most geologically active. The gorge is carved between 200-foot high canyon walls and littered with SUV sized boulders. Turns out these boulders fell from the canyon wall in a 1968 earthquake. As one could imagine, Analee was eager to leave the gorge. Although the chance of an earthquake and subsequently being squished by a boulder was probably 1,000,000,000 to 1, those odds were too likely for Analee. If she is a believer in those odds, she should start playing the lottery!

Anyways, we drove through the gorge and saw the world famous Anticline. For the layman, this is upwards folding of rock layers to form an “upside down horseshoe.” For an even simpler explanation, a lot of heat and pressure bent the rocks. Once through the gorge, we emerged in the Fish Creek wash at the foot of the Elephant Knees. The Elephant Knees is an eroded shoreline that looks like, well, you can figure it out. (Un)fortunately, this area of the park is closed for restoration so we couldn’t explore.

The Anticline in Perspective

From here we ventured about 12 miles back into, you guessed it, badlands! We will never learn. Apparently, the main wash (Fish Creek) has upwards of 20 more washes branching off. Lots of camel, horse and marine fossils can be found, but from the comfort and relative safety of the Trailblazer, we were essentially driving through more mud canyons. I was completely under whelmed by this leg of the journey, and was wishing we were relaxing in the hot pool instead of venturing so remotely that I’d probably have to eat my left hand to survive if we got stuck.

On cue, we finally began to meltdown (my word, we actually had a spat – our relationship is human!) about 14 miles into the trail at the head of Sandstone Canyon. Of course, this is a spectacular canyon with narrow, high walls. Much to her credit, Analee did lead us into the canyon, but I was ready to head back. Knowing that we were far away from civilization, and the fact that only God knew where we were, we slowly headed back to the Gorge.

Elephant Knees

Back near the Gorge (and civilization), we stopped to do the Wind Cave trail. I led us (down several wrong trails, of course), but we emerged at the wind caves, which are sandstone protrusions in a granitic bed. This was a serene area that had a commanding view of Fish Creek (Analee took a spectacular panoramic of this site…ask her for it!). Not much else to say about this site, except that words do not do justice.

The Wind Caves

Once back through the Gorge, we turned down the “Road to Plaster City”, which is a dirt road paralleling a railroad from the US Gypsum Mine to Plaster City. We initially went down this road looking for an old ocean waterline, but we (of course) couldn’t find it. Once again on a remote road, we had some interesting encounters with “locals” and the US Border Patrol (again). In short, we had a Border Patrol Agent stop and ask us questions about a “Gold Durango” while we were parked next to a local with a sweet mullet, who was showing his girlfriend how to shoot a handgun, while their dog was lying under a parasol. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Life is weirder than fiction.

My brain hurts from writing. Ciao!

UP NEXT – Anza Borrego Part IX: Vacation from Vacation

Monday, March 3, 2008

Anza Borrego Part VII - Helicopters & Humvees

Day 7 began like each preceding morning: cold, dirty and hungry. Except now we (more like me) had a nice sunburn (i.e., perfect example of a farmer tan) from the Calcite Mine hike. Eager to catch up on the time lost to the snow and rain, Analee took the helm and we set off on our busiest day yet. Hold onto your hats, lots to talk about!

Sticking true to our belief that Badlands are better enjoyed from afar than from within, we drove up a wash to the Fish Creek Badlands Overlook. After what seemed like miles of winding through ever narrowing canyons, we almost ran head on into three people cruising through on dirt bikes. The dirt bikes were an omen as to how tight this canyon became. As we twisted on, Analee finally had enough of switch backing through the cramped remote canyon. Instead to driving all the way to the overlook, we decided to climb the mud caked walls and make our own overlook. The view was beautiful, but no different than from the day before. A forest is a forest, and a badland is a badland.

Next we backtracked to the Mesquite Oasis, which turned out to be several brown mesquite trees lining a fault…exciting. Further down the wash we found the old Palm Spring Oasis, which was a watering hole on the old Overland Stagecoach Route. All that remains are several palms and a small pond (oddly, the pond had a pump float ball in it to prevent overflows…like there is ever enough water out there for something to overflow). The pond still had its ancient pupfish (1 to 2 inches in length), which are remnants species from millions of years ago.

Not learning our lesson, we then ventured into the Arroyo Hueso (Bone Wash), which runs through the Badlands. Not much happened here, aside from mud, of course, and our first coyote sighting. We would have had a picture of the coyote, except I’m a spaz and am incapable of using digital cameras. The next turn off was the Arroyo Tapiado, another wash in the badlands…I insisted that we go up this wash because 10 plus years ago, I found a huge mudcave that I thought my claustrophobic girlfriend would enjoy (sometimes I am completely oblivious to the world). By the way, hearing a Southern Belle say the word Tapiado is a treat... TAP-EYYYE-AAAH=DOUGH (love you sweetie!).

Arroyo Tapiado Mud Cave

After much driving and Analee constantly checking up on my GPS navigational skills, we finally made it to the gaping entrance to the Tapiado Mud Cave. Surprisingly, Analee followed me whole-heartedly into the cave, but within 100 feet, I noticed that something was not as I remembered from 10 years ago. As soon as we entered the cave, we had to scramble up about 30 feet of debris. Yet, I distinctly remember the entrance being a ground level and opening into a large, cool cavern. Looking down, I noticed some large, black pockets where sand was seeping. Turns out, the cave had collapsed since I had first visited! Hearing this, Analee was a blur of dust running out of the cavern, while I was slowly plodding my way out. As I neared the exit, I could hear Analee imploring me to get out. Once out, I could see steady streams of sand falling around the cave. I guess the recent rains made the area a touch unsteady…

Finally done with Badlands (not really, Part VIII will show I’m a glutton for punishment), we went to the Canyon Sin Nombre (i.e., Canyon Without a Name). This canyon is a geological wonder, and Analee was salivating at a chance to see its treasures (For further information regarding the geology of Canyon Sin Nombre, please contact Analee Harris a.k.a. the geo-nerd, because to me a rock is just a big piece of sand…it was pretty though).

Canyon Sin Nombre Geology at its Finest

As we entered Canyon Sin Nombre, we both sighted a strange cactus on top of a nearby hill. Perplexed, we used the camera to zoom in on the weird shape, but we could still not make out the identity of this alien form. With the lens zoomed to the max, Analee was able to snap a picture. We then zoomed in 8 more times to finally determine that our mysterious cactus was in fact…a Border Patrol Agent looking at us through his binoculars! While we marveled at this picture, a white Humvee came barreling around the corner towards us. It appeared that we sparked the Patrolmen’s interest as well. Soon we had three agents drive up and give us the “rigorous interrogation treatment.” After a howdy and a wave, they drove off satisfied that we weren’t smugglers or illegals. Apparently two people who look like Swedes who fell asleep under heat lamps don’t cause much alarm…Two border patrol incidents down, several more to go.

That's No Cactus...

Safely out of the canyon, which required a skillful drive up a steep, sandy slope by Daredevil Harris, we headed to Mountain Palm Canyon. As the name would imply, this area is a protected mountain valley with about a hundred palms in several groves. As a child, this hike was a low point in the Thornburg Family adventures through Anza Borrego, but as an adult I was amazed. After a leisurely 1-mile hike, we entered a massive palm grove with approximately 50 trees, and a large oasis pond. It felt as if we were transported to the Amazon rain forest. There were thousands of birds flitting about, and squirrels everywhere. Squirrels in the desert, very surreal.

Mountain Palm Canyon

Unfortunately, we were not alone in this desert oasis, as we had to share it with fellow campers from Agua Caliente. One of these campers being a hot pool regular, who liked to wear a v-neck one piece when swimming. Did I mention that the bottom of the V was below her belly button, and that the lady was at least 60?!? Analee was under the impression that she was showing off her new “assets.” They did seem to defy gravity.

Just Listen!

Once rested in the cool shade, we, make that I, decided to lead us off on the Torote Bowl hike. Torote is the Spanish word for an elephant tree, and an elephant tree is a large trunked (forgive the pun) shrub. Sort of like a bonsai tree on steroids. Sadly, the Torote Bowl is one of the few places left in the world to see this endangered tree. However, I can gladly say that this species will survive because to get to the Torote Bowl one must be part mountain goat! The hike was steep and remote enough to keep Analee resting on a rock about ¾ of the way up, while she kept an eye on me climbing the remainder of the way. When I reached the top I was treated to an expansive bowl/crater full of Torotes cupping the valley below. Definitely a Kodak moment (of course, I forgot the camera).

Eventually, we ambled back to the Trailblazer and continued our marathon day in Indian Gorge. Heading through the gorge, Analee became nervous about road conditions, as large, protruding rocks surfaced in the wash. Soon this fears were allayed when we say a Honda Civic hatchback parked on the side of a trail. Heck, those cars have 2 inches of clearance. We were worried for nothing!

As the gorge opened up into two wide forked valleys, there was a large boulder on our left. As Analee put it, “That’s one big-ass rock!” This boulder showed signs of previous inhabitants (i.e., smoke stains, morteros, etc.), and was approximately the size of a singlewide trailer. A big-ass rock indeed. Encouraged by signs of inhabitance, we sped down (actually, we drove almost 2000 feet up on a long, gradual incline) the South Indian Valley keeping a keen eye out for more caves. Ultimately, the road ended at another palm oasis, one I’d never heard of, and more signs of past Indian life and prints of the four-legged variety.

Big Ass Rock Indeed

After poking around the oasis, we headed down and then up into the North Indian Valley, which yet again ended in a hidden palm oasis with more signs of past life. While Analee bounced up the trail, we soon felt a thump thump thump thump echoing off the canyon walls and reverberating in our chests. Before I could do anything, I was literally caught with my pants down as a two military helicopters (Sea Stallions, I think) rose over the mountains. They did several maneuvers through the valley, probably took pictures of us, and then turned towards the setting sun. It was a picturesque ending to a beautiful day.

UP NEXT: Part VIII - Thank God for GPS