Boaring NOT Boring

DB visits Mikey in Kaua'i

It wasn't easy to see Mike and Michelle leave Carnation.  But the time had come to seek greener pastures and they left for the greenest spot on earth, Kaua'i.  Mike grew up on Kaua'i and still has family and friends living there.  Michelle easily finds friends and makes them family so the transition was smoother than for most.  Despite working three jobs they take time to make others feel welcome and DB took advantage of their standing invitation to experience Kaua'i.  And experience it, he did!

Wild pigs, boar, javalena: they are all the same and wrecking havoc in Arizona, Texas, Florida, Kaua'i, and  numerous other areas.  The problem is that  a sow may give birth twice a year with litters as large as 24.  The other problem is THEY ARE DANGEROUS!  Mikey and his childhood friends are respected boar hunters.  DB was both excited and a little nervous to join them.

Laws are very specific regarding pig eradication; only certain hunters qualify, in designated areas,  and in some cases knives not guns must be used.  DB didn't pack for the hunt- no boots, camo, or weapons.  He didn't kill this little piggy but was with the group that did and was awarded the prize, the boar's jaw.  I was less excited about that than the smoked and frozen pork he brought back with him on the plane.  It is by far the best tasting piggy I've ever eaten.    

This little piggy went to the smoke house.

The prize

Those of you who prefer your meat presented in less graphic detail will be happy to switch gears to  the more advertised island vacation.  Next stop: rainbows and waterfalls.

The treasure is what you see

Michele is one heck of a good cook and works at a restaurant and a Poi factory.  On her off day she treated DB to a river excursion.  Unfortunately, at the end of the trip DB's belief that swimming in warm waters is DANGEROUS was reinforced by a certain sighting.  This 12 foot shark was in less than a foot of water just off the beach.  No more boogie boarding for this tasty boy!

You can take Margaret off Mercer Island but you can't take the Mercer Island...

Casa Verde was Margaret's last stop after visiting an aunt in Los Angeles and son Mark at the University of Redlands.  There really was no way to prepare her for the shocking contrast.

Bearing Very Welcome Gifts

So we immediately threw her into the water with the Lions Club Bar-B-Que Dinner and Variety Show at the Lake Tamarisk Community Hall.

Violin Variety

Second Hand Rose Variety

Margaret didn't sleep well that night.  I'm not certain if it was the chocolates we devoured after the show or the show itself.  But she's a good sport and I convinced her that her stay wouldn't be complete without a drive through Box Canyon, and a stop at The Slabs and, of course, Salvation Mountain.  As Margaret pointed out, Box Canyon was misnamed, so we renamed it "Not a Box but a Drive-through Canyon."  Her reaction to the Salton Sea is best described in these pictures:

Our next stop was the "Ski Inn" in Bombay.  I'd read that a stuffed corvina, a highly prized fish of the Salton Sea, was mounted over the bar and we were ready for a beer.  The corvina was gone but our bartender told how JD had reclaimed the trophey (earned by merely owning the boat in which it was caught) when it looked like the bar would finally sell, but the deal fell through because the buyer was a felon, and were we interested in buying the "Ski Inn" ourselves?!? (Without the stuffed fish, of course.)

I figure that he'd appraised our appraiser friend for a perfect mark when she'd asked if he had any local specialty beers on tap.  Ah, Margaret!  You can remove a lady from Mercer Island but you can't immerse her in desert rat custom in two days. There ain't no specialty breweries at the Salton Sea because the majority of tourists, discounting Nancy and her friends, are destitute hippies, destitute desert rats, and destitute hippie rats, and the locals don't care what they drink as long as they can do it often and out of the heat in a lightless bar.

Fortunately, Margaret felt quite at home when we arrived at The Slabs and Salvation Mountain.  This was folk art at, if not it's finest, most certainly it's most audacious.

I know I have to replace the Saab, but will this give the right impression?

Or this?

Both The Slabs and Salvation Mountain are featured in the Sean Penn directed movie of Jon Krakauer's book "Into the Wild."  That night we watched the DVD in the Casa Verde theatre.  It left all three of us a bit depressed so we passed the Oh! Chocolates and the mini-keg of Hangar 24 Craft Brew from the Redlands.  Both gifts, several times.  We all slept well that night, even Margaret.  She woke refreshed in the knowledge that she would be back home that evening and I woke refreshed knowing that we hadn't finished off the beer and chocolates.  DB woke looking forward to another sunny day with golf to play. Sevi, well, she always wakes refreshed- several times a day.        

Salvation Mountain Revisited

We LOVE visitors; they give us an excuse to visit and revisit places we enjoy.  Cousin Sally and her husband Rob dropped in for a few days.  Despite the below normal temperatures we hustled them off to see the Salton Sea, Salvation Mt, and Borrego Springs. It's not often that you can get smelly, saved, and soused in the same afternoon.  

We drove south on the west side of the sea, stopped to experience the flavor of empty marinas and fish strewn beaches, and buzzed by the Ocotillo Wells State Vehicular Recreation Area, also known as Quad Heaven. 

Our lunch stop was Carlees in Borrego Springs.  Great burgers and great beer.   

DB, Sally, Rob and I experience Salvation Mt.

Street legal in the Slabs

I think it was all the salvation that wore us out.  We returned to Casa Verde exhausted and after dinner settled onto the couches for a viewing of our family favorite DVD, "Sordid Lives."

San Miguel de Allende Writer's Conference February 18-20, 2011

Bookends desperately needed!

Back to Mexico

I was reading the spanish translation of "The House on Mango Street" when an email arrived announcing that Sandra Cisneros was to be the keynote speaker at this year's writing conference in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.  Checking my Continental Airlines miles I found we had more than enough for a round trip ticket from Palm Springs to Leon/Guanajuato.  Flight booked; hotel room reserved; bookends needed.

View from my room at Hotel Real de Minas 

New friends who write at night

New friends who write at day

Sharing a shot with new best friend who drinks night and day

Colonial Home Tour

Plaza Portrait

Bookends found!

It had been more than a year since I spent a month in San Miguel studying spanish.  This time instead of a rooftop apartment I joined the conference attendees and stayed at the hotel.  I took part in all of the conference activities as well as pre and post "activities."

Dancing with the Dolls

San Miguel door and impressive word choice

El Charco Botanical Garden Tour 

Fireworks at our  "Viva Mexico" Fiesta

Meeting Sandra Cisneros

REALLY HAPPY MEETING SANDRA CISNEROS!

The Weirdest Sea I ever Sal..ton

The day before returning to SF after his ten week stay at Casa Verde Tad consented to taking another brief road trip with me.  I've wanted to return to the Salton Sea ever since the memory of our last trip has  been enhanced in my mind from contaminated death pond to "it can't be all that bad."  The last trip was with Dick, Cathy, Nate, Matt, our family and others I may have forgotten.  It blends into a series of "Let's explore our desert surroundings" field trips usually initiated by Dick and involving a couple of six packs of beer.  I have a vague recollection of stopping in a dusty store in Mecca to load up on provisions, a brief lunch on a picnic table, literally sitting on the table because the surface was too gull dropping encrusted for food, freezing our dropping stained butts off,  a cursory glance at interpretive displays and the collective cheer when we called it good and snugged back in the rental cars for our return to Casa Verde.  Tad's recollection is colder, dirtier, smellier and with the added dimension of "Boring."

Armed with my optimism and Tad's reluctance we left DB to Sevi and Boxer sit and steered the Snow Buzzard west.  A couple of miles beyond Chiriaco Summit Route 95 bisects I10.  Travel north and you land at Joshua Tree; we headed south for Mecca.  We returned to this intersection 4 hours later having  visited the tallest flagpole in the world, driven by the Fountain of Youth, seen white pelicans on brilliant blue waves, and found Salvation.  For me, stopping at Border Patrol only added depth to this marvelous adventure.  Tad, on the other hand, wished we'd taken the road more travelled to Joshua Tree.  

The Imperial Valley has the nickname "winter salad bowl of the nation."  I know this because I read about it in a terrific Nat Geo article by Joel K. Bourne, Jr., published in Feb. 2005.  This salad bowl fans out  southwest of the Salton Sea all the way to the California/Mexico border.  It looks like giant rectangles of varying shades of green and tan perfectly laid out by some master quilter.  Bourne tells us that "the Imperial Valley's half million acres of fruits, vegetables, and feedlots soak up more water than Los Angeles and Las Vegas combined."

Run-off from this well watered and well fertilized quilt, will diminish by 20 percent as more of the Colorado River is diverted to satisfy consumer needs to the west in San Diego and to the northwest in the Coachella (Palm Springs) Valley. The sea's other major source of water is the  New River flowing north out of Mexicali and contributing 30% to it's inflow. This source is not decreasing appreciably but the blessing is mixed.  Twenty years ago 60 Minutes declared the New River the most polluted river the world.  So what?   So, while the greens on the Indio golf courses stay green and the drinking fountains at Sea World keep flowing, the absolutely weirdest sea I've ever seen will only get more shallow, salty, and smelly.  You'd think this would be a good thing, wouldn't you? Check this out.

It is one of the most important migratory bird habitats in the US

Once a Palm Springs playground

Promoted in the 60's as a perfect camping spot for a perfect family

Now fish dead from oxygen-depleted water litter the beach

Little San Bernardino  Mts above Palm Springs in background.  Algae laden water in foreground.

I have to agree that the Salton Sea was a disappointment from an environmental viewpoint.  Actually, it is a disaster.  I had to keep reminding myself that it is a closed freshwater system which has 25% more salt content than the Pacific  It's origins are a 1905 break in the Colorado River canal south of Yuma, Arizona, which resulted in a massive flood into the Salton Sink 400 feet lower in elevation. Two years later the break was repaired and voila there stood the 500 square mile Salton Sea.  It's been fed by agricultural run-off, a polluted river, has leached minerals from the basin from which it was formed, and been evaporating ever since.  As unappealing as the Salton Sea has become the alternative- a return to the Salton Sink- is unthinkable.  We don't want our winter salad bowl bordering a year round dust bowl.

We continued along the shoreline to Bombay Beach and ultimately Calipatria.  Both are reminders of what was.  Bombay Beach, once a fisherman's paradise, is a mixed use community: trailers, mobile homes, and multiple person rundowns.  Looking at the sign outside the Ski Inn you'd think it abandoned but the bar is still open and at 2pm a couple of cars are parked outside.  We stayed barely long enough to turn the car around.  Next stop was described in my "Salton Sea SHORELINE GUIDE" by V. Lee Oertle, copyright 1964, "as a small agricultural city in the center of many recreational areas...the lowest city in elevation in the United States at 184 feet below sea level" with "World's Tallest Flagpole....the top  of the flagpole is 184 feet above the ground, and therefore is at sea level."

Calipatria's flag pole was definitely tall.  But the lack of a flag and the run-down community center next to it reminds us that a once promising entrepreneurialvision never materialized.

I directed us back on I111 to Niland and my ace-in-the-hole: Slab City.  How could a young traveler not enjoy  a community of vagabonds with solar power and a rock and roll stage?  This would surely win over a Jack Kerouac enthusiast. 

As we drove to Slab City we saw Salvation Mountain off to our right.  We split in our opinions of this masterpiece of donated paint, adobe, and hay bales. While I marveled at the free spirit that formed this non-demoniational Christian mecca my traveling partner viewed this as an aesthetic nightmare.  Likewise, the Range, a venue for concerts where patrons sit in rusted out automobile seats and enter past a collection of vintage hubcaps was met with the extremes of glee and derision.

On our return drive we talked about the pros and cons of a nomadic life.  Was there a difference between living in a trailer in Slab City and on the beach in Mexico?  Did the desert attract misfits?  Did the desert attract photographers of oddity?  How much longer would it take to get home? What should we cook for dinner?  Was living in an Airstream cooler than living in a double-wide?  And other questions of cosmic importance.