Song of the little road trip

how much work did you do today,
the day before fall break?
and what did you eat
for breakfast?

was it healthy? or your usual?
two-a-day? or one-a-day?
did you submit
your portfolio yet?

and what are the names
of the things you forgot?
did the traffic slow, and then
pick up again,

and slow and then
pick up again?
what color was the light
when you took

the turn to the north?
do you know where you'll be
staying? what did you buy
at the vending machine?

what's your prediction for
the quality of your fall break sleep?
have you devised the rubric
by which it will be assessed?

are you still writing
in your Pocatello motel
room? are you? still? tell
the truth: does the bathroom

smell like cigarettes?
when you go to the mountain,
what tribute will you give it?
will you lumber like a bear

down the village street? will you
drive over the pass in the dark?
who will be your bodyguard?
who will be your long lost pal?

The end. (of the road trip.)

This morning, we shot out of bed at 7, and were out the door of the desert house by 8. Well, by 8:20.

The night before, we had done the "how long will it take us to drive back?" calculus, amplified by two amplification factors: (1) the "it always takes longer on the way back" multiplier, and (2) the Pacific-to-Mountain time drag.

Even with these long-assifying factors, we made it back by 8:42 p.m. To our door, where we were greeted by our happy, happy dog and the young man who had kept him company.

Here are important factors about the day's trip:

1. we figured out what that giant light was, just outside of Searchlight.
2. we reminded ourselves why the iPod Classic is classic. Was, I guess. Always will be.
3. we had items we had brought from our desert house stash to restore us: San Pellegrino Melograno Arancias; cookies of the Chessmen variety; crackers, all sorts; oranges, navel. Also! at a grand--seriously, so huge!--AM/PM store outside of Vegas, I got (bought) us two cups with pebble ice. Score/deluxe!
4. the Virgin River Gorge is 90% less thrilling when it is restricted to one northbound lane. Also, and related: 98% more frustrating.
5. The closer to home you get, the more likely you are to be thinking of a (a) to do list; (b) stuff you should have been doing whilst on vacation but (c) did not do. Related: stress rises at a rate inversely proportional to the shortening distance of your journey home. (that's a thing, right?)

Well, we're home. I have put away stuff and done a load of laundry. My workout clothes are packed for tomorrow, and I have sent messages to my students (in lieu of actually having graded their work, but you know. It's something.) It's considerably chillier here than it was in the desert, but tonight while we took Bruiser for a frisky walk, he enjoyed it and so did we. See you tomorrow at work, if I happen to work with you.

Road trip diary, Day 4.

Yesterday's big adventure maybe sort of wiped us out. It took us awhile before we were ready for a plan.

At first, we were going to go drive by this one house in Twenty Nine Palms because it looked sort of fancy and avant-garde in the real estate magazine, and we were pretending that we might buy a house here.

"I think maybe it's just the light that makes the roof looks all those colors," the historian said.

"We could drive by and see," I replied helpfully. "Do you want to?"

"Naah," he said. 

Then we thought about driving into the park for a little jaunt, taking whatsoever hike or nature walk struck our fancy. Then:

Me: Remember when we were driving back on 62 yesterday? did you see that sign for the Big Morongo Canyon?

Historian: YES.

So I Googled it, and that's where we went.

Like so many places--oases--in the desert, this particular place is made of the availability of water (underground lake, subterranean rivers) and vegetation (willows and cottonwoods), which attracts birds galore. There are alleged (I'm not arguing) mountain lions and bighorn sheep. Snakes, of course, and bugs. Anyway, we decided to go take a small hike or two.

It was mid afternoon, and the birds were in audible evidence, but not much in visual display. Here and there, you could hear the trickle and burble of water. A little frog aria. 

We paused when a woman walking in front of us was, as I was, trying to catch the flight of insects in the light. 

bugs. and light.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to rush you," I said.

This led to a conversation about a creature she spotted yesterday--she was so excited that it was hard to understand, exactly, what she was saying. It was a hummingbird--or a moth? a moth hummingbird? No, a striped hummingbird moth. 

"It landed on my phone--it's pink, so it was attracted. I didn't have my camera--" she gestured toward her camera --"so I couldn't capture it. I'm just looking for it, I hope I get to see it again. 

[NOTE: this is someone else's video, just so you can see what this strange creature
looks like.]

We lingered--more light, more bugs--as she moved ahead. A few minutes later, we ran into her again. She had her camera focused on a low bush in front of her. She gestured with energy at the bush. There it was.

I caught one quick shot before it sped off. She showed me hers, zoomed in. A flash of pink on its wings.

There are, allegedly, all sorts of hummingbirds that frequent the Canyon. We didn't see any of them. We saw a fleeting glimpse of this hummingbird moth, a rather large flock of crows gliding over the sky as the sun set, a butterfly. The air was fresh. We climbed up to a ridge to see the willows and cottonwoods, their shapes and colors, and the mountains in the distance. Another place people have taken the trouble to preserve, with its hidden water, its discreet birds, its forking paths.

Road trip diary, day 3.

This morning started with bird song. Lots of it.

little bird with a black speckled bib, singing on the rooftop.

After a nice, slow start, we drove into Joshua Tree. Below is an ocotillo tree. Not a cactus. Deciduous, with these beautiful red flowers and also that perfect blue sky.

Not a cactus.

The historian looks good in an ocotillo patch.

handsome.

(close up. ocotillos are addictive.)

tiny leaves appearing above each thorn.

(also, I apparently can't stop taking pictures of myself in the rear view mirror. vacation hazard, I guess.)

big camera.

We drove from the south exit of Joshua Tree through a crazy canyon down to Mecca, and from there, to the Salton Sea.

I took this picture of the pelicans at the North Shore
Marina and Yacht Club. No yachts in evidence, fyi.

Which was both the same as what I had heard, and different. I didn't realize how much bird life there was. So much!

I had to work to get this tiny yellow flower into focus.
I hope you're happy.

(also, I will never pass up a flower photo opportunity.)

tiny & cute, right?

(or a bird.)

egrets galore at the Salton Sea.

Egret taking off.

But we did finally get to Bombay Beach, which is pretty burnt out.

"abandon all hope ye who enter"

who is this? kind of wolfish, with those
teeth, especially on the boards of
a boarded up house.

And I am not sure what to make of this injunction, either,
posted as it is on a house that's wrecked and abandoned.

There's a sort of an explanation here (and here) for this, but all the explanations in the world can't quite do justice to the state of this town, or how people still live by the Salton Sea.

We kept driving--we drove so far that when we drove back, we had to pass through Border Control (guess what? the historian does not seem like a person who comes from Mexico to the Border Control agent, whoa!). We were aiming for the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Preserve. That's right, Sonny Bono.

This place was amazing. Evidently, the Salton Sea is a major bird highway. There are about 600 species of birds in North America, and about 400 or so of them have been spotted in the Refuge. We walked for a mile or so as the sun set. The birds were flying everywhere.

birds flying in the last light. 

And then we found some enchiladas to eat.

happy valentine's day!

Road trip, day 2.

Through the strangeness that is Vegas,

its weird monuments,

and whatever the hell this is, bright towering light in the full daylight, over what looks like water against the mountains,

and hours later, we arrive and fall into sleep, and wake to this:

the low cooing of doves,

a strange but also familiar door,

and lamplight pooling against the dark.

Posted with Blogsy

Road trip diary.

We left the house 40 minutes later than planned. I had to go back to get the cord that allows us to play  the iPod through the car stereo. Also, I had a peeled orange in hand. Then we went to get air in the tires.

It took us longer than it should have to get past Provo. Traffic, you know, and a late start. The sun slanted in the windows as it tilted down, down, down to the western horizon.

We haven't been on this stretch of the highway for quite some time. We talked and talked about this and that. Work, children. Work. What we'll do tomorrow. 

Did you know that if you don't get back on the freeway at Nephi that you have to go all the way to Levan? and then it's nine miles from Levan back to I-15? In the dark? Well.

We're halfway-ish. I have identified the key elements for tomorrow: the best route to get to where we're going, and where we're having breakfast, and where we will buy provisions for when we get there.

We're on our way to getting where we're going. It's fine with me if it takes just about as long as it takes.