Another Sunday

So the blog posts seem to get further and further apart. Oh well, such is life beside the pool in a blue-skied, palm-tree laden SoCal resort. The days lollygag by, and we complain a teensy bit about the unseasonably warm temperatures, but we know it is often raining at home, so we are glad to be here -- although H this morning did announce that he missed the rain. That's what he said, but it could also be that he's getting a little bored. We are leaving the Palm Springs area in a few days; new surroundings may change his perspective.

In the meantime, we did have a couple of adventures this week. Last Tuesday, R and I took H up Mount Jacinto in the aerial tramway. H's mama declined on account of the fact that she took him up last time we were here and the experience made her nauseous. She finds it terrifying. It is a three-and-a-half mile drive uphill from the valley floor just to get to the base of the station, then another 15 minutes and 8250 feet almost straight up on the aerial tram to get to the top of the mountain, so for those who find heights not to their taste, it is an experience to be avoided. And the tramway car actually revolves, allowing for 360°-viewing, which is wonderful for looking at stuff, but not to be recommended if it makes you feel like throwing up. So she stayed home.

View of Coachella Valley from atop Mt Jacinto

Waiting to go up in the tramway, we met a man who seemed very familiar with the staff and the attendant procedures. With longish grey hair in a pony tail,  a beat-up knapsack and well-used crampons that he was untangling and attaching to the outside of his pack, he looked like he knew what he was about. He told me he came up to hike on the mountain every day. "Three years ago I weighed 340 pounds," he said (he looked about 200 now), "and one morning  I woke up with my wife dead beside me from a heart attack and I said, that's not gonna be me." So there he was, everyday for three years. A few others joined him as we waited for the first tram of the day, and it was interesting to see. All the tourists gave the regulars a lot of space to budge to the front of the line, and they took it, acknowledging some kind of hard-earned superiority. The hikers' conversation was laced with disdainful comments about the people they ran into on the trails wearing only shorts and sneakers and not even carrying a bottle of water, and the trails so icy and slushy. And they also traded gossip about other hikers who had suffered injuries up there and how they got down, asked each other if they'd seen the space station go by last Saturday, and other esoteric matters. There was also a couple, not one of the regulars, who had enormous canvas-covered foam pieces on their backs. They were rock climbers, it turns out, and the foam pieces were to be used to break the fall if they had a misstep. Seriously. It was fascinating. Worlds apart.

The cables that take the tram up the mountain from w-a-a-a-y below.

Taking a look

So when we got to the top, we just had to march right out and head down the cement pathway to the basin that contained the trailheads to various parts of the mountain -- not wishing to be disdained by the Serious Hikers. About halfway down, H realized that we were going to have to trek back up -- an important law of the universe to add to the collection of information accumulated thus far -- so that was the end of that. But at that very spot he met a young fellow, Ian, from Oregon,  who decided to climb the rocks right beside us. At age 6, Ian was much more experienced that H, and was happy to share his superior knowledge of handholds, footholds and other technical matters, particularly when they got up about 50 feet and were wondering how to get down. It was a nice encounter and H can now legitimately say that he has rock climbed on Mount Jacinto. Ian's grandparents were a lovely, very cool couple from Wyoming, the grandfather of which, it was learned in the final moments of our encounter, was going to vote for D J Trump. Didn't fit my idea of Don's demographic. A little eye opener.

R & H on the "trail": what goes down must go back up

The Palm Springs Tourist Center is at the bottom of the drive up to the tramway base. A touted example of the mid-century architecture for which Palm Springs is famous, it was also designed by California architect Walter Frey, who you will remember, if you have been paying attention, also designed the North Shore Beach and Yacht Club on the Salton Sea. (Yes, there will be a test.) So we got a little outdoorsy and a little artsy all in the same day. Cool.

The Palm Springs Tourist Center

We have, all three of us grownups, been playing a little golf here and there, actually just "here" at Outdoor Resort Palm Springs, there is no big-time, PGA, 7000-yard "there" with our golfing chops. We have access to two courses at ORPS, a 9-hole and an 18-hole, and the fees are very cheap. The first tee for the 9-hole course is literally at our door, just 5 yards from our patio, and rarely used, so easy for us. Amber displays great natural ability, although admits she has a few things to learn yet, and H is fascinated, with lots of things to learn, altho he still thinks he's pretty much got it figured out, so we're hoping for a dynasty.

H and I have been spending lots of time at the pool and his swimming is improving, which thrills me to no end. He was very cautious when we arrived and now paddles around in the deep part (with life jacket) very comfortably. The next step is to get him lose the life jacket, but we're making great progress with face in the water, blowing bubbles, and a kick that actually involves motion, so I'm hopeful. A and R are both experiencing skin sensitivities from the pool and the hot tub so they avoid both. Too bad for them, as the pool is lovely and the time with H is even more lovely.

Yesterday A and I visited Sunnylands Center and Gardens in Rancho Mirage, the next town over. It's where Obama recently attended a conference (yes, more material for the test) and, steeped in modern history, has been acting as Camp David West since the Nixon era. Sunnylands was built by Walter and Lee Annenberg, American diplomats and rich folk -- she raised by early Hollywood mogul Harry Cohn, he a publisher who started Seventeen Magazine and TV Guide. In the 1960s, they created a 200-acre compound from raw desert, including a stunning "desert modern" mansion, stocked lakes, a golf course, and an impressive art collection, where they hosted celebrities, royalty and major political figures over the years. That estate is only open to the public on special tours, but they did create a 15-acre adjacent property with public gardens and a center, which is where we were. Some momentous historical events are related to the place, and the experience was impressive, suggesting civility in politics, diplomacy, good taste and good manners. Even though we all know that the behind-the-scenes reality of power and government can be as cutthroat as any jungle, Sunnylands seems to be representative of an era that could be over, if the crazy preamble to the upcoming American elections is an indication of anything. It just makes ya think. And wonder.

Sunnylands Center, design inspired by the Annenberg mansion, but quite separate.

Tai chi and birding are among the free stuff available at the center.

Selfie!

The grounds are open for public use, except during high-security meetings.

Infinity pool in the public gardens

Part of the public gardens

Corner of the infinity pool

Part of a golf-ball display from players on the Annenberg's private course.

And we have been doing other things like shopping, and going to playgrounds, and a bit of geocaching. We had lunch last week with Peter and Val who we met at Borrego, but who live in Parksville. Unfortunately we will miss out on a visit with Keith and Jean and won't see their new cottage in Julian. And we missed a visit with high school pal, Maureen and husband John, who were passing through. Timing is everything. And oh yes,  we went out to dinner at the Cheese Factory two nights ago and it was very delicious except H got a piece of plastic in his pizza, which he wished me to mention in the blog.

Lotsa shopping malls here. This is The River, in Rancho Mirage, location of the aforementioned Cheese Factory.

R and friend. (Outside a BBQ place--what else?-- at The River.) Silly R.

Birds

So, okay, some people may have been thinking that serious birding with a four-year-old was a ridiculous expectation. And, okay, I probably was thinking that myself. Because it is. A ridiculous expectation. But sometimes the vision is pleasant enough that you hang on to it. As long as possible. Until it is obvious that the vision has nothing to do with reality. Or, at least, very little. And so it goes.

H is learning which end of the binoculars to use, so that's something. And he does recognize an amazing number of birds given that he appears to be paying no attention at all. But serious birding? No, not really.

However, what has become apparent is that just sitting outside in the morning beside the fountain (yes! we have a fountain), sipping a cup of coffee, enjoying the mild morning temperatures, looking out over the golf course, one is visited by an impressive array of birds. Not an impressive number, but an impressive array. Just by sitting here we have seen northern mockingbird, black phoebes, Say's phoebes, doves, black-crowned sparrows, house finches, verdin, crows, some kind of itty-bitty wren, Anna's hummingbird, and this morning, la pièce de résistance -- a blue-throated humingbird!!! I kid you not! A rarity in California apparently, but then what with climate change and all, it's all up for grabs, it seems, so maybe not so rare anymore. Anyway, I saw it! With the iridescent blue throat and black and white markings at the side of the head. Thrilling! At least I think I saw it. I'm pretty sure I saw it, but who knows. Anyway, I'm sticking with "saw it." And at various places around the park we see mallards, gulls, wigeons, coots and Canada geese. So we are getting birding in after all.

The hummingbirds actually sit(!) at the edge of the fountain and drink. An amazing feat for ones so skittish. The white-crowned sparrow gets right in there and bathes, splashing water under his wings and everything. The northern mockingbird sings all night. (A bit ostentatious and entirely unnecessary, but we are only visitors here, so choose not to complain.)

We are also monitoring other patio wildlife -- so far just ants. We have seen them suck water from a fallen cucumber slice, a scout ant sense, locate, and call in reinforcements on an errant raspberry, and a group-feed on an unfortunate bug larva, still writhing. Life is hard, my child, life is hard, and there is much to learn.

And we are creatures of habit, so I will continue to persevere with the birding expeditions.

Salton Sea

What is it about this place? It is garbage strewn desert when it is not being farmed by Big Agra. It is a collection of left over dreams from mid-century mixed with low-rent trailer parks and enough tidy little homes owned by folks who refuse to quit to make you scratch your head and wonder.

On paper, the sea itself is fed by three rivers plus agricultural run-off from Coachella and Imperial valley mega-farms at its north and south ends. But the rivers are actually streams and in drought-ridden California one doubts that the streams are up to much. So most of what feeds the sea is the chemical-laden, highly-saline waste water from the fields. They call it "endoheric" because what runs in doesn't run out. It's a closed system. No flushing. And it's dying. 

There are places like North Shore, Salton City and Bombay Beach where people live their lives. Someone had big dreams for those places not that long ago. Probably there are people who live there who continue to have big dreams. But it's hard to understand what those dreams are made of.

Someone had an idea to develop a fishery in the sea at one time, but the only species that survived is talapia and they undergo a cyclical die-off that leaves the shores thick with carcasses and the air rancid with decay. There are goethermal plants at the south end of the sea that look like the industrial future of Mars, and the remnants of a early 20th-century salt harvesting industry that rots into the beach.

The birds love it as an important stopover on a major migratory route. And birders flock (!) to see the dozens of species who stop here. But since the only plan for the sea appears to be allowing it to dry up, you can't help but think about ecological repercussions when that happens.

White pelicans (Amber's)

Failure and broken dreams and what might have been are inescapable themes in this landscape. But every time we're in southeastern California, we come back. And I can't quite figure out why. Sometimes we camp for a few nights, sometimes we come for a day of birding, sometimes, like today, we just drive over for a look.

We went to the North Shore Beach & Yacht Club, a snazzy little building at the northeast end of the sea on Highway 111, designed by Albert Frey, a prominent architect of the "desert modernism" Palm-Springs style. This was supposed to be California's largest marina when it opened as part of a $2 million development in 1959 that was championed by a number of Hollywood stars, but the agricultural run-off, fluctuating water levels and a dock-destroying flood laid those dreams to rest and it shut down in 1984, was vandalized, then renovated and reopened in 2010 as a community center. More dreams. When we were there today, it all looked pretty good, but it was closed, there was no one around, and the smell of rotting fish was overwhelming. However,  we did find a geocache!

The group with yacht club in the background. (Amber's)

Looking into the desert from the front of the yacht club.

Geocache! (Amber's)

We stopped for lunch at the state park just a few minutes down the road, and enjoyed a picnic under a palapa, shaded from the blazing hot sun, red ants scurrying around at our feet. The nature center there was open and as in past visits the displays were interesting and the park rangers were friendly and informative. While we ate our lunch, we watched several American kestrels dazzling each other with loops and dives among the palm branches. I've only seen kestrels by themselves usually perched on telephone wires looking very business-like, so this display of frivolity was unexpected and impressive. Could be early mating stuff because of the unseasonably warm weather, the ranger told us.

We also saw egrets, white pelicans, an eared grebe, cormorants, lots of gulls, and black-necked stilts. But the dancing kestrels were definitely the big winners.

Kestrel in palm (Amber's)

Pair of kestrels through the scope (Amber's)

The Salton Sea is a fascinating place. Some people snort when you mention it. But for us it's endlessly interesting. Maybe it's all the untold stories in the rocks, in the shadows, in the derelict buildings. Maybe it's that every time we go back we stumble upon something new. Can't quite figure it out. But I look forward to the next time.

BEET RACE CANCELLED!

PALM SPRINGS, CA — First announced in Coos Bay, Oregon, the Beet Race, a unique form of race- car competition where the vehicles hurl cooked beets at one another, has been permanently cancelled, organizers revealed recently. The unique competition has been plagued by problems, mostly weather-related, since it was announced three weeks ago. Heavy rain and wind warnings along the Pacific Coast caused the event to be cancelled and rescheduled several times, but organizers found the constant postponements were unnerving for the cars and inconvenient for themselves.

It is not clear what kind of beets are used, who cooks them, how the cars actually hurl the vegetables, or who cleans up afterwards, but locals in several communities in Oregon and Calilfornia have expressed enthusiastic curiosity about the possibilities.

Originator of the event, a young man who would only identify himself as H, refused to go on camera to elaborate on the inspiration for the race, details of its operation, or the cancellation, explaining that if he did so, "The cars would think it was ugly."

Observers say that resurrection of the event is unlikely.

RIP, Beet Race.

Obama has landed!

He is attending a conference at Sunnylands, a former ambassador's mansion with beautiful gardens and great birding that is usually open to the public. We are hoping to go have a look. But not this week.

We know of the presidential visit from personal experience. Two reasons. One, yesterday A, R, and H went to the Air Museum and all of the vintage planes were shoved out onto the tarmac and all the people who worked there were bustling around, all a-twitter, preparing for "something big" that was going to happen there. No one was saying for sure, but there was a certain amount of nudge-nudge wink-wink going on. And it was very HOT on the tarmac, so everyone hoped that there was a VERY IMPORTANT reason why all the planes were outside not inside the way they usually are.

Snuffling away with my desert cold, I didn't join them, but I understand a good time was had by all -- (not including BO, whose plane hadn't landed yet) -- climbing into the cockpit and messing with the buttons on a section of a WWII Fairchild C-119 Flying Boxcar transport plane, operating a flight simulator, gazing in awe at a Vietnam-vintage Huey helicopter and hearing stories from a docent who had flown one of them in that war, and many other aeronautical moments. It sounds like an interesting place, preserving planes from WWII, as well as the Korean and Vietnam wars, most of them in flying condition, and serving up some hands-on history lessons as well, although I'm sure, slightly slanted. Or maybe a lot slanted. But for a little boy in love with airplanes, a morning in heaven.

Two, this morning the same sector of the family went to Cathedral City's Second Annual Hot Air Balloon Festival, getting up at FIVE A.M. to have a pancake breakfast and watch the balloons inflate. FIVE A.M.!!!! (Not me. Sniffle sniffle. Snore snore.) And when they got to the appointed place they found the pancake breakfast all right, but the balloons had been moved -- not allowed into that particular airspace because -- Guess Who was coming. You would think they would have worked that all out ahead of time, but apparently not. The organizers only got word yesterday afternoon from the FAA that the planned ballooning would not be allowed because of the presidential activity. I don't get that. And the organizers were not too swift with the contingency plan. The people at the pancake breakfast weren't exactly sure where the balloon inflating was going to take place. "Oh, over there someplace," they said, waving their hands vaguely around in circles. So our early risers were confronted with chaos and lack of signage when they arrived at what they thought was the festival site and a lot of unknowledgeable officials.  However, eventually our intrepid trio did find the balloons and saw them inflated and saw the race and found it beautiful and thrilling and very interesting. When I saw the pictures, I really wished I had gone, but I was also really glad that I didn't get up at 5 o'clock in the morning only to stumble into Confusion-and-Misinformation-Land. I hate that kind of stuff. So I stayed home and played my ukulele and glanced at the sky occasionally and caught a few glimpses of balloons flying and listened to birds twitter and enjoyed the coolness of the morning air. It had to suffice.

Later we drove through the sweltering heat (89°F today) and found a used kid-sized driver and putter for H at Golf Alley, a second-hand golf store. He is set now. Still insists on his unique grip. But okay. It's only a matter of time.

(All these photos and several others appearing in earlier posts are A's. Not mine. Especially since I wasn't there. I figured I'd have to fess up sooner or later. Now seems like a good time.)

Ensconsed in Palm Springs

All right, I'll admit it. The place is growing on me. Even this park, with its blemishes, is growing on me. It's especially nice for H here because there is SO MUCH TO DO. Part of the beauty of Borrego was there is NOTHING TO DO. But with a four year old, diversity is a good thing to have. Obama is here today, for heaven sake.

We went out to a driving range a couple of days ago -- all four of us whacking away at the tiny white balls (well, mine are pink, but no need to get picky).

Cimarron Golf Club

We, of course, couldn't get ourselves organized early enough, so we were there in the heat of the day, which was brutal. Even H got into it on both the driving range and the putting green. He is, true to his four-year-old demographic, totally uncoachable, (our visions of the PGA falter), but he had a great time. And they say Bubba Watson has never had a lesson in his life, so there may be something to H's unique putting grip. Some of us gave up early, escaping to the shade on the patio while watching an amazing variety of birdlife on the pond (barely visible on the lower right in the photo). But others sweltered away until finally declaring their game reclaimed. I was both pleased and chagrined to find A has a beautiful natural swing and great distance to boot, doing better than I do, even though I've been trying for four years now and she had only a couple of lessons last fall. Ah well. Fly, my child, fly.

Had a dinner out that same night at a highly recommended restaurant on Palm Canyon Drive, the hub of PS nightlife. We don't get out much at night, so it was a nice diversion, with a bit of a stroll afterwards. There are a zillion restaurants here, just about anything you could imagine. And lotsa people. Lotsa lotsa people. Probably mostly visitors or temporary residents. I have learned that only about 45,000 people actually live in PS full time, while  the whole Coachella Valley has a population of about 350,000. The communities that make up this urban sprawl include Palm Springs, Cathedral City (where we are), Palm Desert, La Quinta, Indio, Rancho Mirage, and a couple of others, all nudging into each other, border-to-border, so it's hard to know where one starts and the next one begins. Many Canadians are among the visitors and temporary residents, with a surprising number of them here this year, despite the devalued dollar.

Mexican patio dining on Palm Canyon Drive.

Oh, and did I mention the weather? Hot. Not complaining, what with the pool and all. But hot. By the pool yesterday met a nice couple from Kelowna with a four-year-old, much to H's delight. He's a pilot for Westjet (the dad, not the four-year-old) and knows Phil Evans (meaningful only to ex-Valley folk). The Small World Principle strikes again.

While we were out . . .

Ah, yes. We have been here a week now. And I have not been keeping up. "Languid" is the word I would use. The days are Languid. Just kinda hanging out. Hot. Pool time. The first few days we just pinched each other and said, "We're here!" But we're definitely trying to put a little more class into our act. Get going. Do things. But for now, Languid is winning.

"I think a lemonade this time,  darling. Lots of ice."

On day three we did manage to connect with an actual person from Time-Warner -- well, a contractor who is not actually an employee of Time-Warner -- who installed our wifi. (One of the remaining problems with this park is that the wifi is terrible. We've been to tiny low-rent RV parks where the wifi was terrific. We've been to public parks in small towns in Mexico where the wifi was terrific. But here we are in a very nice resort in Palm Springs and the wifi sucks. So we pay a company to come and install wifi for us for a month -- and it takes us three days to get the company on the phone.  Everyone complains about it. But the problem remains. Ah well.  Languid. ) The installer is an interesting guy who had nothing good to say about TW, so right away we knew we were simpatico. He'd been in the service -- enlisted one month before 911 -- "So guess where that landed me," he said. Iraq, of course. And had an interesting comment on his time there. "When you need it, your training kicks in," he said, "but other than that it was boring." Hadn't heard that before. Nice fella. Born and raised here and can't seem to leave. Besides doing this installation work for a small mom and pop firm, he'd serviced the tall wind turbines -- the very BIG ones -- climbed all the way to the top -- loved it. "All I know is TVs and turbines," he said, "and I'm really good at both." Don't know about the turbines, but the wifi & cable work really well! But Time-Warner -- not so much. Even he, the installation contractor, gets put on hold for two hours. Oh, America.

A has taken H to a couple of parks and reports they're swell. H is loving the pool and his swimming is progressing. Golf is yet to come for all of us -- this week  -- sometime. Two courses here (the first tee for one of them is at our door) and dozens more in the area. No shortage of opportunities, although I'd get laughed off most of them.

H and friends at Palm Desert Civic Park

Pool ready.

And we have been geocaching. H remains very keen. We went up to Big Morongo Canyon a couple of days ago and found three along the route, although one of them had been destroyed, so we were guessing there. That was the location with the great bird's eye view of the canyon itself, so that was neat, even though the cache itself "needed attention" as they say in the parlance -- if you can call bits and pieces strewn over the landscape as "needing attention". I think "total rebuild" would be more in order.

(For those who don't know, and it was recently pointed out to me that there are people reading this who are puzzled, geocaching is a kind of scavenger hunt, open to everyone, where you find objects hidden at various locations around the world -- including one on Mars, apparently.  You find them by using a GPS to pinpoint the latitude and longitude of a hide, all of which are listed on a website. It can as advanced or as simple as you want, the caches are easy or hard to find, located in easy or difficult terrain. Lots of variations. The website is www.geocaching.com. And it's lots of fun. For the whole family.)

Our birdwalk at Morongo was a bit disapointing. It is reportedly a great birding area, although we were there a couple of years ago and didn't see many birds. It was windy and cold that day, so we thought the weather provided an explanation. But when we went this time it was sunny with just a teensy breeze and we saw even fewer birds than the first time! Ah, well. It was a lovely walk. And the enthusiasm of the four-year-old may have had something to do with the lack of birds. We did see a verdin, a scrub jay, some sparrows and some crows. So that's something. Oh, and several signs posted warnings of mountain lions and rattlesnakes. We didn't see any of those either. . .

We're finding Outdoor Resort Palm Springs much friendlier than the other times we've stayed here. We note a lot of For Sale listings and think maybe the survivors are realizing if they're not nice to the renters, there may be trouble ahead. It is a beautiful park, well kept, and our site is right across from one of the two main clubhouses, so we have easy access to the pool and related amenities. And it is a resort so there are lots of activities and classes, should we wish to join in. But right now we're waiting for the guy to come and wash the RV, which is VERY dirty from the two weeks of travel. And then it's probably off to the pool. It's actually HOT today. Up to 23 or something. But we're not complaining . . .