Perigee Moon

We went up and spent our first weekend up at the Super Secret Place. The crew consisted of my son, 2 of his friends and meeself. We took off fully loaded with sleeping bags, barbecue grill, coals, cooler,boots, bb guns, generator, fog horns, kitchen utensils, first aid kit, telescope, camera, food and drinks, plates and cups, books, pillows, extension cords, gravel, 1' x 1' cement blocks, flashlights, solar lights, a tarp, water and gas cans, weed whacker, shovel, knives, portable chairs, an outdoor shower (I'm forgetting a bunch of things) and a futon on top of the car. We drove up to San Fernando and got worried the futon was starting to pull off so we decided to put it inside the car, not a small accomplishment. There was no room left so we put one of the guys on the roof instead (jk!)



The drive up wasn't too bad except the futon made a sound wall so we couldn't hear each other. That was fine, we cranked up the music (hey! We each have our own speaker!) and used the futon as a communal pillow. We didn't stop because we were all antsy to get there but we enjoyed the drive and the occasional Roman monument along the Appian Way.



We got to the Super Secret Place and I was happy to see the Airstream sitting there like a shiny lunar outpost. We unpacked, set up camp, hooked up the generator, turned on the fridge, cleared out a bit of dry grass and had lunch. The guys were eager to shoot the guns so they wasted no time setting up a shooting range complete with chairs and shaken soda cans. The shaken soda under pressure makes an exploding target. Cool!


BANG!


That was fun but they also wanted to check out the gold mine I had told them about. There was a bit of a gold rush back in the days in the area so there are abandoned mines here an there. This one is 1/2 mile from the property. I had never been there but I found it right away, almost as if I already knew the way. We found some interesting artifacts and buildings in various sages of disintegration.






I went back ahead of the crew and starting preparing dinner: New York steaks on the grill. I felt bad hearing my neighbor's cow mooing... I'll bring fish next time. By the time we were done eating, it was night so one my son's friend set up his telescope so we could check out the perigee moon which was unusually huge. It lit up the whole place and you could see all the trees and mountains all around in the penumbra. I left the guys after a while and walked back slowly to the Airstream, taking in the landscape. I couldn't believe how beautiful and wild the place is and felt very privileged to be there. The guys had an airsoft laser fight in the dark and went to bed early too.

We slept OK in our sleeping bags, occasionally awakened by someone tossing and turning or asking out loud "dude! What's that noise?" (What noise? There's nobody out here!) It gets cold at night being at 3500' altitude but we survived. The Airstream provided a fine shelter for sleeping and, pure luxury, we even had lights. We woke up the next day and all commented that it had been the longest night ever. It's funny how when the comforts of everyday life are taken away we get back into Nature's normal cycle quickly.

The day before, Sonny had found a grinding rock very close to the creek. Those were used by the Pauite Indians to grind acorns and other foodstuff. This one had been ground all the way through. I knew of another one on the property, pretty much in the middle but I had a feeling there would be more. Without knowing why, I followed the boulders along the creek in the shade of the oak trees and sure enough, found a cluster of grinding rocks: 2 stones with 2 holes and another with just 1. The place is special indeed.





Gazing down at these Squaw Rocks, I couldn’t help but think about another time, same place, when women would gather around the stones, grind away while chatting, kids running around, husbands fishing or hunting. I know it was tough living but in our quest to improve things, we’ve lost a few good ones.


These people may be gone but I know their spirit lives on at this place out of time.

We left in the afternoon, a little bummed about having to get back to civilization.



We stopped on the way back at another, bigger mine, a true photographer's delight. Here are a couple pix.




That was it. The crossing point back to the 21st century is the train tracks. We passed them and drove back home happy and refreshed. We'll be back soon.

Road trip

I bought a classic vintage Airstream Land Yacht Sovereign... Yep. Airstream, the name brings up visions of wide open spaces, travels to unknown vistas, happy camping days, freedom and then some. All I had to do was to go pick it up in Phoenix, AZ.

I knew I couldn't do it by myself so I asked my good friend Steve if he could come with me. He accepted, thank goodness. So I booked a flight, a truck and made travel arrangements.

Many things come into play when towing a trailer. First, you need to have the right truck. I went to the forums and got many suggestions (thank you!) I also asked Steve the seller who was kind enough to go to uHaul twice and check out their trucks. Other things to consider were the proper hitch ball size, the right height for the truck's hitch and a matching electrical connection for the brake and blinker lights. All these things come in different configurations but Steve in Phoenix was able to work it all out. He even offered to pick us up from the airport, an offer I did accept.

Steve and I flew out of Burbank on Southwest. The plane was late and overbooked. We thought for a second about the offer for $200 and the next flight but we had people to see, places to go and an Airstream to tow. Here's a picture of Steve with the desert seen through the window. We're flying parallel to the I10 and I can't help but think that tomorrow we'll be driving in the opposite direction at 1/12th the speed.



Looks pretty dry down there...

We land in Phoenix after a bumpy descent where Steve (the seller) picks us up and takes us to uHaul. Of course the first truck is wrong so we get another, hoping it's the right one. We're off to Steve's to meet the baby and there it is!


Gee... She's purty... Steve (the seller) shows us around and explains the basic functions of this and that. He also gives me the original owner's manual, bill of sale and mulrooney. I can't help but think about Mr. So and So in Oregon back in 1972 proudly buying his Airstream. I'd like to think I wasn't born but I'd be lying.

After all checks out (brake lights, hitch height, ball size etc - Halleluiah!) Steve and I leave to go spend the night at my friends David and Jenny who live close by. I have directions and we keep a close eye out for Shea Blvd. One detail about the truck is that it was rented to us with barely any gas. As we happily drive through Old Town Scottsdale with its fun outdoor cafés and beautiful people, the fuel empty light comes on. True, absorbed as we were with all the action, we missed 2 gas stations and there were none for a while. We keep on driving and driving but nothing. We finally find one on the opposite corner so had no choice but to get there. Our convoy is 45' long and maneuvering is not as easy as with a car, you need room to make wide turns. I make a right into a commercial center, a left to get back on Scottsdale Blvd. and, "oh surprise!", there's a gas station right there. We gas up and take off North again.



We're driving for what seems to be a long time as buildings and houses become sparser. Doesn't seem right. I eventually remember I have a cell phone and call David who tells me we went too far. It turns out that we had gassed up at the corner of Shea and Scottsdale Blvd and missed the sign for Shea because of our detour through the shopping plaza. We got to David's when it was dark.


Oh yeah, David's responsible for getting me into vintage trailers.

The evening was fun, It was David's birthday eve so us 3 boys went out to dinner. We went back to his place, hung out next to his '50s Boles Aero sipping some Happy Camper wine, talking about vintage trailers, wine, music, nature and more.

Arizona has great weather this time of year and it was wonderful to sit later with David and Jenny under their long porch on their huge property. They have a lot of space in AZ so lots are large. Many Angelinos moved there after the Northridge earthquake and settled happily. I don't have any pictures of our kind hosts because I believe they're under the Federal Witness Protection Program. Let's just say they are both talented artists, fun and cool people.



We had in mind to leave early the next day but David's learning how to play guitar and Steve being a musician and instrument maker, we took off at 9 am.

Off we were, on the road again, 45 feet of mean aerodynamic aluminum, driving at the top recommended speed of 50 miles an hour. We stopped at the first rest stop to make sure everything was honky dory and got to hang out with the big rigs. Notice in the photo that Steve sees something about the truck that will turn out to be very important. More on that later.



We drove through the desert, passed the Colorado River into California (I'll digress quickly to warn you to be prepared to gain a few pounds if you ever have lunch in Blythe,) cruised by Palm Springs and stopped to take a break in Cabazon.



You don't scare me, Mister T-Rex! I'm well protected in my Airstream! Come to think of it, the Airstream would probably look like a cool shiny sardine container to a dino.

I had planned our route with Google maps, not exactly trusting MapQuest. Next thing you know, we are past San Bernardino on the road to Vegas, and getting closer and closer to it. I keep checking the map which all of a sudden strikes me as odd: we're going North-East where we should be going North-West. So much for trusting Google. It's the high desert, cold and for the first time in my life, I can't wait to get to Barstow.


This is what the road looked like.

Steve and I share the driving, a great thing because at 50 mph, the road is going by reeeeeeaaaaaaaallllllll slow.


Weird thing about Steve, he can drive with his eyes closed. Don't ask me how...

Another Strange thing is a huge long, solid, yellowish cloud above our heads coming from the West. It's from the Ventura County fire and it extends all the way East past here.



It's getting dark and our plan to get to our final destination that day doesn't look so good anymore. We eventually make it to Barstow and head West towards Mojave. We pass small desert communities with no name, scrap yards with the coolest buses you've ever seen and that never ending white line in the middle of the road. The fire cloud provides a neat sunset.



We're pooped and the road is starting to look blurry. Our sweeties had told us the night before that there was a wind advisory, to be careful, so we decided to stop and let them know we're OK. Fingers crossed, the wind hasn't been an issue and we're still awake. I have no idea where this picture was taken but I do remember we were close to the 395 and a place called Boron, home to a chemical company that makes Borax....



At that point, all we can think of is getting to Mojave but the mountains we recognize in the distance never seem to get closer. It's completely dark by the time we get there so we decide to stop at the Road House and have dinner. After a meal, a Martini and Gin & Tonic, we wisely decide to spend the night in the Airstream right where we parked it. Yep, we're right off the highway but we figure traffic would stop at some point during the night. Traffic sure did but let me tell you about trains. Trains never stop, they run all night and they make a terrible sound that shakes the ground like an earthquake. We didn't really sleep and got up at 6:30, had breakfast at the Road House and took off for the Super Secret Place.



I can't tell you where the Super Secret Place is because if I did, it wouldn't be secret anymore, would it? Instead, I'll describe it. Imagine Southern California like it used to be: open range, pristine golden hills, free roaming cows (keep an eye on the road, they're everywhere!) horses, ranches here and there, oak trees, wide open space for miles. You get the picture. We drive through a canyon that's a cross between Malibu and Topanga Canyons, with a creek along the side. Our windows are rolled down, the air smells great and the sound of water is sweet. We're almost there...



The Aistream has been very good, easy to tow, that's my baby.

Finally, we reach our destination. We park our convoy, survey the property and decide on the best place to park the beauty. This is so exciting, we're there! Yeah, well life's funny sometimes. As I drive to get on the property, the truck can't make it over a little hump. The soil is very sandy and the tires start spinning. We can go backwards for a while and keep trying to rock it back and forth forward but eventually, the truck is stuck.



The Airstream doesn't look so good either blocking the road and its bottom dangerously close to scraping.



Part of the problem is that uHaul gave us a truck with bald tires so there's no traction. That's the detail Steve had noticed at the truck stop. Good thing he didn't tell me, I would have been worried all the way. I had checked the Airstream's 4 tires and they are new but not the truck's.



We are miles away from services, cell phones don't work here and we have nothing to work with. No shovels, no planks, just our hands and rocks. We dig, we put rocks under the tires, nothing works. We are stuck and I already imagine another night in the Airstream with nothing to eat or drink, our wives worried we didn't call, probably calling every hospital from Mojave to miles around.

I have traveled some and have learned to be resourceful and not panic. Plus I guess Steve and I have guardian angels. Somebody drove by in a Suburban-like truck. I waived because people are like that out there, they're friendly even if you're a stranger. I got a wave back and the truck passed by. It drove back a couple minutes later and the driver asked, "need any help?" Steve cracked me up because he said, "we sure could use a shovel!" I knew we needed more than a shovel.

That's how I met Mike, his wife and their children. His parents own the ranch just north of our place. They're the kind of people who ask newcomers like me if they need water because they know we don't have water wells. Mike lives up the road.

Mike and his wife took control; they must have had experience with that sort of thing. We un-hitched the trailer but the darn truck wouldn't come out on its own. He pulled it out after almost getting stuck himself. Once the truck out of the way, it was the Airstream's turn and I was bummed thinking that we had towed it all the way out here without a scratch but that it would get banged up 50 yards away from destination. Mike pulled it up gracefully, with nothing scraping and parked it exactly where I wanted it to be. Mike's cool.

So here it is, glorious, beautiful, a haven in Heaven. Sure, there's a lot of work to be done but it's a beautiful start to another wonderful journey.

Dalmatian vacation

We spent a couple weeks last summer in Dalmatia. Dalmatia is the coastal part of Croatia, right across from Italy, North of Greece and Albania, on the part of the Mediterranean Sea that is called the Adriatic.

It's a beautiful place dubbed "the Mediterranean as it used to be." The big town on the coast is Split. My family is from inland, across the mountain range, close to where the Turks were stopped on their northward advance into Europe. Every year, Sinj (pronounced like "Siñ" in Spanish) celebrates that victory with an ancient horse competition called the Alka. We're hillbillies from just east of there by 5 km, aka 3 miles. It's a land of proud folks used to a hard life.

Play this to hear a sample of some very old style of singing from the area called ganga:


But our vacation was on the coast so this is a picture book of what it looks like on Jadra (local name for Adriatic.)

The picture above shows the island of Brac, our destination. Nope, it's not a stock or NASA photo, it's homemade. It shows the coast side facing the mainland, all the way down. The high resolution version shows Supetar and its port, our village called Splitska and other villages and coves all the way down. The island is 14 km wide by 40 long.

We got to Splitska the day before August 15, the Assumption, aka Virgin Mary Day. Splitska is a tiny village on the coast, population is under 400 during most of the year. It got its start as the place where Roman Emperor Diocletian mined the stones to build his palace across the way in Split. The quarry was only used for that but the stone from the island is very famous. The White House is built with Brac stone. My son and I spent a day at the old quarry. We saw the ancient carving of Hercules and found some cut stones from the Roman days. It was pretty exciting.



Here is Hercules and, digging for treasures...



The main road goes above the village which is great because it cuts down on traffic on our riva. The riva is the boardwalk along the edge of the sea; the French call it the "Promenade"-- the place to go walking. This photo is from the road on the way back from the quarry.



Here is one that shows the riva at the bottom of our street.



And another. You can see our little house in this one.



On August 15, Velika Gospa, the Virgin Mary is taken out of the church and a procession walks around the "old town" and blesses the houses. Our small house is the 4th on the way up and it's great to see the little children with flowers and the whole village pass by. They've done that for hundreds of years; some houses, like ours, are about as old.





Here are some photos to give you a flavor of the village.







And some more...







The place is beautiful. There are vineyards all around, cicadas chirping away like there's no tomorrow, swallows dancing in the sky, small private coves with Mediterannean pines at the edge of the sea, water so clean you can see the bottom 20 feet down, sunshine....

Play this to hear a song about the folks on Brac:


We took a few side trips on the island. There’s a famous beach called Zlatni Rat in Bol, on the other side but it's overwhelmed by tourists.

We also went to the southernmost village called Sumartin. Many villages start with "su" as in Sutivan, Supetar etc. It means "saint" so Sumartin is Saint Martin. We had drinks there and thought about taking the ferry to Makarska but it was too late so went back to Splitska.



We went often to Supetar, 3 miles away, where the ferry to Split comes and goes. We have a market in Splitska and local farmers sell their fruits and vegetables at the bottom of our street but we get our meat and fish there. The riva is full of cafés so it's fun to go in the evening, sip on a local wine or rakija and enjoy mighty good crepes. I also like to watch a good (English) Football game on the TVs some places have. It's fun to sit with Italians, Germans, French and locals and hear "Ja!" or "Andiamo!", "Ah, punaise!" and "Bogati."






We went one afternoon to Old Town Split (Stari Grad) and walked the streets of Diocletian's palace. The huge statue represents Bishop Grgur Ninski, by Ivan Mestrovic. The bishop fought to give the people of Nin the right to use their own language in liturgy instead of Latin. It's a tradition to rub the statue's toe for good luck.






Another time, we took a Hydro Glisser to visit a few other islands. There are over 1,000 up and down the coast. We went to Korcula, (pronounced "Korchula") the birthplace of Marco Polo (aka Marko Polo.) The Italians claim him as their own but it's true the island was part of Venice in those days.

Play this to hear some Klapa from Korcula:














And... these funny sculptures on each side of a door into a church (there's one at every corner.) This sure beats the monsters on Notre Dame in Paris and the weird sculptures on the Neues Rathaus in Munich.


We also went to Mljet (pronounced "Mlyett") where according to the legend, Ulysses was kept prisoner for 7 years by the nymph Calypso. In the middle of the island, there's a small one called St. Mary with an ancient Benedictine monastery and a church dating from the 12th century.


We stopped in Makarska briefly on the way back.



Our days were lazy, restful and peaceful. I even had time to read a great book, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, and another fun, adventure historical novel, No Quarter by Broos Campbell.

We packed everything, turned off water and electricity, sadly left our little village and stayed at my Dad's the last few days, right across from Splitska.








Time to say goodbye to the Adriatic...

We got on a plane, flew to Brussels, Kennedy Airport and finally LAX. The trip took 27 hours door to door. Well worth it.




Here's a video presentation of the island: