Monday, June 15, 2015 -- Antioch, Santa Monica

Santa Monica beach and Pier. In the hazy background, you may be able to make out a couple of large ships anchored in the ocean.

One bit of Santa Monica information learned during a class on humor this morning was that dogs aren't allowed into the off-leash dog parks without a Santa Monica dog tag (a fair amount of dissing Santa Monica for this occurred). A little quality time with Google showed that is apparently true, but only for the Airport Park. If you are from anywhere other than Santa Monica and want your canine companion to hang out with the local dogs, you can get a non-resident permit tag at Airport Park. (SMMC 4.04.170, Resolutions 10244, 10245).


The prof for the humor course this morning was Erin Aubrey Kaplan, a columnist, author, and teacher who focuses on African-American political, economic and cultural issues. Her take-away line for the class was "I'm laughing but it isn't funny," to sum up all of the situations that we find ourselves caught in where laughter, tough as it is, may be the best way out.

After classes today, we headed over to Santa Monica, to get a taste of a different beach city from Venice. We didn't have much time, so opted for a short walk through town, along the Third Avenue Promenade, and along the (crumbling) bluff above the beach. There were gouges like this in the cliffs all of the way along the pedestrian/bike trail that parallels the shore.

A silver gladiator poses with a child along the Third Avenue Promenade.

The dinosaur fountains on the Third Avenue Promenade still spill out water.

A sign in front of one of the fountains says that the landscaping is being replaced to save water. This might be one of those situations where it would be good to laugh at the irony, even though at some level it's not particularly funny.

Afternoon naps.

Statice growing along the bluff walk in Santa Monica/

Crowds and gulls at the Santa Monica beach near the Pier. While researching the factoid about dog parks, I came across another ordinance worth noting: Adults without children are not allowed on playgrounds in the city of Santa Monica. There are half-a-dozen state-of-the-art playgrounds for grown-ups along the boardwalk between Venice and Santa Monica, so perhaps this is not too onerous a provision. Not to mention the four or more miles of beach walks between the communities.

Along the bluff walk stand -- or lounge -- trees of great character.

Photo op with small white dog.

Eucalyptus tree, Santa Monica, on the bluff above the beach.

Flowers catching the evening sun.

Nearly time for the sun to set in the haze over the Santa Monica mountains.

Greek dinner for the evening.

Glittery things for sale on the Promenade, to brighten the night.

Iris in Santa Monica.

Surfin' USA -- June 10, 2015

We have arrived in the land of palm trees and surf. We are not especially coherent after a less-than-restful night on the airplane, but we did get to Trader Joe's to fill our refrigerator with breakfast foods, and then to dinner with friends in Manhattan Beach.

Colorful planes at Salt Lake City.

Foothills beyond the Salt Lake City airport.

It's been a while since we were at the LA airport, and things have changed. They are doing new construction of some sort, and to get from the end zone of the Delta gates to baggage claim involved half a mile of blank white-washed plywood tunnels with dystopic lighting. Other places when they're remodeling, they paint enticing signs that say, "Coming soon!" and tantalize you with photos of food or magical people dashing through grassy meadows. LA seemed to want you to be glad that you had finally arrived at a crowded baggage claim area, and an even more packed waiting zone for buses to the rental car offices. At the Budget office, at least there were benches for the luggage-watchers (me) to sit with a breeze while the car-renters (Jim) stood in line for another hour. It took longer getting to our car than flying from Salt Lake City to LA.

Nonetheless, there were palm trees outside baggage claim.

The afternoon was spent under the overcast skies settling into the Culver City hotel, napping, stopping at Trader Joe's for provisions (chocolate and berries, mainly).

Exotic flowers are everywhere.

Last year there might have been annuals in this planter and others -- this year, they are filled with sedums and grasses, plants that need little water.

We spent a little time at Manhattan Beach getting sand in the sandals and dodging skateboarders, watching beach volleyball games, cyclists, runners -- everyone but sunbathers, because the day was still cloudy with only a hint of sun in the late afternoon.

Surf, and

surfers, calling it a day.

We met our friends Andrea and Steve Miller for a delightful dinner.

Life happens out in the open in Manhattan Beach, much more than in Anchorage. This is a sculptor's house in the downtown of the community.


Tomorrow we will walk over to Antioch, exploring routes and resources along the way. The first class is tomorrow evening, and after that, I may be very busy for a while.

Maybe these are artichokes, showing their essential inner thistle-ness?

Between times

Art in the San Francisco airport [Enrique Chayoga, "Love Letters," in Spanish, English, Filipino, Lakota, French, Italian, Japanese, and American Sign Language].


Travel days that involve hours in airports and on planes always feel like a gift to me. Even if I'm working, the time feels carefree and relaxed (except for those moments getting through the security). Today we left Menlo Park at dawn, and arrived in Anchorage about 6:30 p.m., with hours of sunlight left to enjoy. In between, we had a two-hour flight to Seattle, four hours there, and about three and a half hours on the flight to Anchorage. I spent much of it reading the materials that Antioch provided about the MFA program, trying to wrap my head around what it will mean to be a student in earnest. Bottom line: it will mean a lot of work! But fun, too (I am promising myself).

Dawn sky from Highway 101 -- with the ubiquitous power lines. Certainly there are places in California without so many of them, but we didn't see them.

Looking west from the train that runs from the rental car dropoff to the airport terminals -- morning fog over the hills.

Looking east from the airport -- this is maybe the San Mateo bridge?

Washing windows at the San Francisco Airport.

The wrinkly, crinkly silver water of the Pacific Ocean.

Flying past Lake Washington on the descent to Seattle -- the gray blur along the middle of the photo is from the jet engines.

A plane taking off, and Alaska and United planes taxiing to their runways; mostly sunny skies in Seattle.

Both San Francisco and Seattle airports have artwork; here is a charming creature from a Seattle pottery display ["Treasure Island" by Cappy Thompson and Dick Weiss].

Also in Seattle, one of several mosaics on columns along a concourse.

Jim's coup (he was sitting next to the window) -- the Seward Highway along Turnagain Arm, with the train.

Coming over the Mat-Su Valley area -- hardly any snow for the end of March.

Home -- Anchorage, with the mountains rising behind, and Cook Inlet in front.

Anchorage sunset, just after 8:00 p.m.

Thanks for coming along on this trip to California! Thanks to Joe Lazio (expert on many things) and Cathy White (queen of bird identification), and everyone who has shared their California experiences and memories.  Special thanks to everyone who hosted us, and went out of their way to meet us for a meal -- we are looking forward to seeing you again soon.

Next up -- Seattle in May. See you then!

Another mosaic at the Seattle airport.

Road-trip -- North on I-5 from LA to San Francisco

Immense numbers of Bird-of-Paradise flowers in Westchester near Marina del Rey on the coast south of Santa Monica -- nothing like this in Anchorage.

A useful note -- most of the photos were taken at 70 miles per hour through the car windows. Not art gallery quality photos.

Starting up towards Tejon Pass on I-5 through the Los Padres National Forest. Not many trees here, just miles and miles of minimalist slopes -- bare ground, small shrubs -- uncomplicated and serene.

Beautiful hills, coming down from Tejon Pass, with just a little spring green visible right behind the truck.

California has lots of people, but almost none of them live along I-5 between Santa Clarita (north edge of LA) and Gilroy (south end of the Bay area). We left at 9:00 a.m., and arrived in Menlo Park about 5:00 p.m. In between we saw a remarkable amount of empty space -- and truly empty. For much of the drive we saw only an occasional crow -- no hawks or turkey vultures, no other birds, no animals, nothing moving besides the cars on the freeways.

We saw few green crops like these in the front of the photo, and just this one batch of tented crops. Note in the back -- power lines. Hundreds of power line towers and lines stretch along and across I-5, looking odd in such unpopulated places. The areas to the east may support much more agriculture than the lands on either side of I-5.

When we did see animals, they were domesticated -- almost all cows. There were a few small fenced areas with cattle pasturing, one enormous feed lot with thousands of cows, a dairy farm, and the occasional Black Angus bulls/steers. I could see those steers on a menu -- "pastured, grass-fed, from [name of ranch], humanely brought to your table with sustainable methods . . . " They seemed unaware of their futures.

A second feed lot, several hours down the road.

There were miles of vineyards along various stretches of the road, some young and others well-established. Look carefully, and you will see an oil rig pumping away behind the vines.

I have to wonder what the oil wells add to the terroir of the grapes -- one never hears them mentioned in the descriptions of the care with which the wines have been made.

We stopped for Subway sandwiches just north of Bakersfield for lunch, and found little four-packs of wine for sale to drink with lunch. I'm sorry now that I didn't get one.

In a few places, orange poppies, the California state flower spread in patches on the hills, and other flowers bloomed for their brief moments.

Tejon Ranch, near Tejon Pass, 4,144 feet. Note orchards in the background.

We came down from the mountains into brown haze that lasted for the next 150 miles or so (from south of Bakersfield up past the turnoff for Coalinga), much worse than anything in LA.

Orange orchards -- we saw only one stretch of them. Most of the other orchards were green, but none had identifiable fruit (or flowers) yet.

Trees, miles of them, covered with nets. They must have been difficult to get on. Were they protecting cherries from birds?

In sharp contrast to much of the trip, the Coalinga-Avenal rest area had birds, butterflies, and shade -- respite from the blue sky and sun. Here, one of the dozens of birds who had built nests in the roof of the shelter.

We didn't see much sign of people in the fields, but did pass a trio of empty buses that were intended for workers.

Starting south of Bakersfield, and continuing all of the way north to the turnoff for Gilroy, we saw dozens of signs, repeating a few political messages: "No water=higher food bills;"  "Water=jobs;" "Stop the Congress-created dust bowl;" "Food grows where water flows;" and the like. They weren't put out by a sophisticated production team, and it wasn't entirely clear who their target audience was. It was especially unclear because most of what we saw seemed to be thriving -- hard to tell that there was a water shortage.

Another interesting feature of the drive, to me, was the fact that we saw almost no homes in these long stretches of fields and orchards. In many parts of the country, you see houses and barns, sometimes small settlements, every few miles at least. Not so, here -- if we saw them, they were a great distance away.

Finally we got to highway 152 which took us west to 101 at Gilroy. The terrain was almost immediately greener, soft with grasses and patches of flowers.

We stopped at "The last produce stand before Hwy. 101" to buy strawberries and almonds.

The heat (low 80s?) didn't seem to bother the pleasant woman who ran the stand, and who thought Alaska sounded interesting (her sister wanted to go there to fish for salmon).

And then we were back to city life, with freeways and overpasses, stop and go traffic, and exits to other highways and streets filled with people and cars.

The roses we left behind in LA.