Doormen, Jaywalking and The National Mall

So, I have been away (but away much longer from this blog than from my home!) For 10 days in April, I left this lovely, yet chaotic,  seaside town of mine and travelled further east than I have ever before. The furthest east I’ve been is East St. Louis, Illinois. I was in my thirties. This past  April 10 (2021), I took a flight out of LAX for Ronald Reagan Airport on a long awaited trip to see my oldest son. And what a joy it was to see him! Also a joy: to be in part of the country so different than mine. I finally got to see the national monuments up close. I finally got to see my brother’s home that he shares with his lovely wife and 4 children. (Bittersweet though was that part of the trip; my brother is currently deployed in Afghanistan.)

Within an hour of landing  (about 4:45 pm EST) I had already dropped my luggage off at my son’s apartment, crossed the street, hoped on the Metro and was in the heart of DC, The National Mall. I felt a little overwhelmed, in a strange place (yet so familiar!). I hadn’t eaten for the day (normally my first meal is around 2 pm PST and it was coming up on that time). There was a lot to take in at this new place. I had never ridden the Metro, or any other mass transit beneath ground. I bought us a couple of sandwiches from the food trucks near The Capital Building for my first meal in DC. It felt surreal. I ate a sandwich with my oldest son in front of The Capitol Building with The National Monument in sight, and just past that, The WWII Monument and The Lincoln Memorial.

We got off the Metro near Rosslyn on my way back from my first visit to The National Mall. I could see the Capital lit up across the Potomac River. And before me as I stood on this great lawn, the Iwo Jima War Memorial, lit up under darkness, looming above me higher than I imagined it would be. We took an Uber back to my son’s apartment my first night, my first Uber in fact. 

My son showed me the ropes those first few days, mainly, how to load up my card and ride The Metro. I must say that he did a great job teaching me the way (I taught him well ). I’ve always oddly overly enjoyed mass transit. I certainly have never shied from it with my children. I taught them how to use our buses, trains and trolleys. But wow, we’ve got nothing on the East Coast. I could get anywhere I wanted to go in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia). And if I made a mistake and got on the wrong line, it was easy to fix (I got on the wrong line once when I forgot that the Blue line was closed). You can transfer as often as you like – you don't pay until you leave the station.  I rarely had to wait for “my” line for more than 5 minutes. I suppose this is the best place to write that I love The Metro. Truly. I loved the being amongst so many travelers underground – the Disney Space Mountain-like ceiling. I loved figuring out my route, transferring trains, coming up to the surface and crossing the Potomac River. The Metro was very cool. But I think I liked it most of all because it was my son who showed me how to ride it.

Oh, the places we went. Much was closed due to COVID, the Smithsonian for example, and the National Monument. Of course, we saw The National Mall. We ate dinner out a few times. We walked around Georgetown University where my son’s lovely girlfriend attends as a sophomore. We saw The White House (what we could through the barricades), we walked through cemeteries, and explored Fox Hall and Ambassador Row. We ate sandwiches in Georgetown, had Texas barbecue in DC and shopped at an underground mall beneath the streets of Arlington. My son also showed me “The Waterfront” and we drove over to Maryland to take in The National Harbor. 

The skies were often grey. And it rained some. All the lawns were green. But that’s only the beginning. The first thing that I noticed about this area is the trees – trees everywhere. In fact, when flying in, I looked down and saw what looked like a carpet of trees beneath me. Being the tree lover that I am, seeing this absolutely thrilled me. The trees, shrubs and seasonal flowers were in full bloom—nothing like I ever see on the West Coast. Tulips of all colors bloomed in nearly all of the planters. Rhododendron bushes covered in pink, purple or white blossoms showed off many of the  landscapes. 

Georgetown University:

Vietnam Memorial:@The Waterfront (DC):Food Trucks @ The National Mall:

After those first few days, I was on my own for the next  few days. You can be sure that I rode The Metro all over Arlington and DC. I spent much time at The National Mall, and made my way over to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. I walked about sculpture gardens and browsed gift shops. I spent some time in Dupont Circle and ate lunch at Kramer’s Bookstore. And I visited every one of the war memorials, and also Arlington Cemetery (from the outside – more on that maybe later, but probably not – if you personally know me, ask & I will tell).  During these excursions I put in tens of thousands of steps. One day I glanced down and saw 14,000 steps on my watch, on another day I glanced and saw 22,000. (I never remembered to look down at my watch at the day’s end for a total count. I guess I was just too exhausted).

What a great trip, and the irony is, I wouldn’t have been able to make this trip without COVID (and working remotely). Before COVID, I was teaching on location at two schools. It would have been nearly impossible to get away at this time for 10 days, especially since it wasn’t an emergency, just a visit because I missed my son.

The Washington Monument from the steps of The Lincoln Memorial:   @ The Lincoln Memorial:Korean War Memorial:WWI Memorial:Marine Corps War Memorial (Iwo Jima Memorial):Martin Luther King, Jr. MemorialOutside Arlington Memorial:

So, I noticed some differences between my home on the West Coast and where my oldest son chose to live – the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia.) I loved visiting, but it is certainly different that what I’m used to.  Some of these items on my list, granted, may be a big city thing, and not an East Coast/West Coast difference, regardless, here it goes:

1. Much more green foliage and massive flower color over there. The creeks and rivers also run fuller. It’s classic beauty on the East Coast.
2. Hardly anyone wears shorts over there. I wore shorts often and looked around to see only one or two others in shorts. Where I’m from, shorts are common attire, they are worn to restaurants, to school, even to church.
3. USAA ATM machines in CVS stores! There are none in my parts and USAA is my bank.
4. Everyone jaywalks in the DMV. Everyone.
5. Everyone also honks their car horns. Everyone.
6. Roads come out of nowhere (tunnels from underground!)
7. You are allotted much more time on the Pedestrian Walk countdown over there. I get twenty seconds to cross four lanes of traffic in my hometown – in Dupont Circle, I was allotted 90 seconds at one crosswalk, which brings me to the next difference . . .
8. Intersections often have more than four ways – in other words, you may need to wait through five or six other right aways – and don’t even get me started on the roundabouts.
9. Apartments have “doormen” (or women). The halls & apartment doors are all indoors. Consequently, no stranger is just moseying up to your door from outside like they can in my parts where apartment front doors are outdoors facing the public (I lived in an apartment 10 years like this, and felt a bit insecure about it).
10. Grocery stores and drug stores have security, all of them. It’s not like that where I live. But where I live, we cannot bring backpacks into stores—it’s pretty much forbidden, especially if you’re young (I might be able to get away with it at my old age). I noticed visiting my son that people wore backpacks into stores often—even young people.
11. It’s legal to park cars beneath bridges. That’s something that I noticed immediately, as no where will you see a car parked beneath a bridge in my parts (unless of course, that car broke down – then it will surely have a ticket on the windshield).
12. The general public does not make eye contact. Just don’t do it! Seriously, while standing in line at Walmart, or while waiting for The Metro, eye contact is not welcome. This is very different than what I’m used to – we have conversations with strangers in grocery store lines, on the bus, in public restrooms in my parts. On my trip, right away I noticed dirty looks from strangers that I made eye contact with and learned quickly not to look at people’s faces. When I mentioned this to my son, he said that this was definitely a big city thing and not an East Coast thing. He is probably right. I will say that I don’t recall dirty looks for eye contact in Los Angeles or San Diego, California. But then again, I have not been to those “big” cities since the Pandemic, so things may have changed. (When my son would say good-bye and go off to work, he’d say, “Have fun but don’t look at anyone!).
13. It is much louder in the DMV than it is in Dana Point. I already mentioned the car honking, but also remember that the subways make loud Disney-like ride noises every time they stop and then accelerate to leave. There’s also the sirens – big cities have constant sirens, around the clock (that is true also in LA and San Diego). From my home, I hear traffic from Coast Highway occasionally, but I also hear the foghorn, seals barking down at the harbor,  and the train whistle from San Juan Capistrano which is miles away. First thing I noticed when I came back was how quiet it was compared to the DMV.
14. And lastly, good luck finding parking over there. It is much easier to drive in my parts and find parking. That’s convenient yes. But I also like having things within transit and/or walking distance which the DMV definitely has. 

So happy to have made this trip. What a great adventure. The flight back was interesting as well. After walking through the medal detector twice, I was patted down. Then my flight was randomly picked to go through a second security check, requiring i.d. checks for everyone and random luggage searches. Then once boarded, the woman in the middle seat loudly proclaimed to the woman at the window and myself on the aisle that she wasn’t moving if anyone had to use the bathroom because she was going to sleep. (That’s exactly why I purchase an aisle seat – so I can freely move about). Anyway, the cabin reeked of marijuana much of the 5 hour non-stop flight. The pilot eventually got on the intercom to sternly inform everyone that smoking in the bathroom was a federal crime and wouldn’t be tolerated. I half expected the police to be waiting when we arrived in LA. They weren’t. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if they had. I would have just floated right past them – No matter how great a trip is, it’s always wonderful to be back at home. Such a mixed feeling . . . sad to leave, happy to be home.

The Awakening (@ The National Harbor, Maryland):

Breaking Webs on the Way In and Out

I closed up March (3/30) with a hike up San Juan Trail to Cocktail Rock and back. I was coming up on 24 hours into a fast when I headed out up Ortega Highway into the Cleveland National Forest. Just before I reached my turnoff onto Hot Springs Canyon Road a bobcat, an adult (obviously by his size), ran across the highway. The day was Tuesday, which meant that no one, absolutely no one was on my trail. I felt fine strength-wise, physically, or so I thought.

Let me begin with, the land was beautiful and I was in awe, as always.

One other car was parked in the lot. I didn’t think that mattered. But as I made my way up the seemingly endless switchbacks, I couldn’t help but notice how absolutely alone I was. I was so alone that I found myself searching the ground for foot prints, recent footprints, heck even recent tire prints. Though I wasn’t feeling physically weak, I was astounded by the lack of progress I made on the watch. It took me forever to reach Cocktail Rock.

Eager, yet apprehensive heading up SJ Trail:

A few miles in, it’s pigtail weather!! (I dressed too warm for this hike!)

Gosh, it was beautiful out there, but the switchbacks seemed endless and the weather was quite warm. As I scoured the dirt for prints, I broke countless spider webs on the way up. I learned quickly to keep my arms out front just for that purpose. Astounded by how much time had passed by the time I reached Cocktail Rock, I decided to hang out there anyway, throwing caution to the wind as far as getting back to the truck by dark.

Cocktail Rock:

When I departed Cocktail Rock for the return trip, I knew my chances were slim getting back to the truck before dark. And so I ran some, in hiking boots. The trail was so lonely that I couldn’t help but wonder, Am I crazy? Am I literally crazy? It sure seemed like I was crazy right about then – alone in the mountains, racing against the darkness. It was a bit spooky for me, more so than normal. All the way back, I continued to break the webs that the spiders had worked on so hard since I was there last a few hours earlier. I felt a little sorry for them – I broke their webs on the way in and now on the way out!

Oh how I wished that I would come upon others on this trail. I heard voices when I was about a tenth of a mile from the lot. But I didn’t see anyone. Expecting to see people in the lot, I had my keys out and ready to make a beeline for the truck. I was acting pretty paranoid being that by the time I made it to the forested lot, it was dark. There were no other cars, there were no people, who knows where those voices came from, I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I was weak and I was worn out, ready to go home.

  

13 miles, 2,302 ft of elevation gain

Horsetrough Spring (Black Star Canyon)

March 26 was a lovely day to take a long hike with my husband in search of Horsetrough Spring. The skies were blue, it was sunny, but not hot. It was a perfect spring day. My husband pointed out Horsetrough Spring on the map months ago when he spotted it on his Life360 app while I was hiking in Black Star Canyon. Pinpointing its location, I knew that we were headed for some heavy duty bushwhacking, which is not only physically challenging, but mentally as well – which is why we made a long day of it.

The canyon was practically empty on this Friday afternoon. We packed in a wonderful lunch and snacks and enjoyed them at the village on the way up (and the way back). Before moving off trail in search of the spring, we explored the Hidden Ranch area – the location of a terrible battle/massacre between American trappers and Tongva Indians who had stolen horses from Spanish landowners in 1831, and also the location where Henry Hungerford shot and killed James Gregg in a dispute over a pasturage bill in 1899. I always stop at the village when I’m in Black Star Canyon. This day was the first time I had hiked down into and explored Hidden Ranch.

The Village:Hidden Ranch Now:Hidden Ranch in 1966 (Courtesy of Santa Ana Public Library):

Not too far from Hidden Ranch, we stepped off the trail to our right at a dry creek bed. We remained with the creek bed for a while but eventually made our way across the meadow to the first of a series of rundown barbed wired fences. Following these series of fences, which all headed toward a line of sycamore trees in the distance, we came up on a trough with water being fed to it by a pipe. Well, that definitely confirmed that we were headed in the right direction. And so we headed off toward the line of sycamores where we encountered more barbed wire. Eventually the meadow disappeared and the vegetation had growth so thick that we separated. I headed up a slope where I could look down into a lush green area that we were certain the spring originated. My husband made his way through that terribly thick vegetation until he was finally beneath the green lush covered area. Though we had separated and I was standing on a slope up above him, he was still close enough that we could still speak to each other. He searched for the spring’s origin for some time. Looking at the lay of the land, I’m pretty convinced he found the location but couldn’t see it because the vegetation was so thick.

We paid only small prices for this wonderful day. My husband had to get a Tetanus shot due to a nasty cut from the barbed wire, and he also had a mild reaction to poison oak (he’s had much worse reactions in the past). As for myself, I got 3 tics! Three. I hate tics. I would much rather come up on a rattler than a tic. You can see rattlers, they make noises. Tics, not so much so. They are silent and sneaky. I found one behind my ear, one crawling on my scalp, and another attached to my scalp a whole day later!

The spring is somewhere in that clump of trees about mid picture (we believe):13.5 miles, 3,621ft of elevation gain.

Winter Was My Season

Thursday March 25, I specifically set out for flat trails. There’s only one place best for that. I headed out to Arroyo Trabuco (the Great Suburban Trail!) of course. I guess that I was a little distracted as I packed because I forgot my beanie and gloves. And it was cold. Boy was it cold. The skies were gray and the trails were empty. Empty and eerie.

Rummaging through my pack, I found my thin buff and wrapped that around my head and neck. Then I zipped up tight and made my way down Tijeras Creek Trail. From there I hiked to Arroyo Trabuco. By then my shoes were wet, as Tijeras Creek was too full to hop the rocks across.

@ the Tijeras Creek / Arroyo Trabuco junction:

Trabuco Creek nice and easy crossing:

My shoes had plenty of time to dry out along Arroyo Trabuco Trail. The creek crossings had more than enough rocks to hop across. I had also warmed up a bit, but remained zipped all the way up, with much of my face, head and neck covered.  At about the 4 mile mark it began to drizzle. I sat beneath a tree that provided ample cover along a dry creek bed and ate my first meal of the day – beef stick, nuts, dried fruit. It was a lovely. But then the rain came down harder and fell right through my tree. I grabbed my stuff and ran back to the more heavily forested area and stood in the trees’ shadows and took in the rain. It was beautiful.  

As quickly as the rain blew in, it stopped and I decided to head back. I saw a couple of people along the way, a guy on a bike, and a woman on foot. At one point, while walking beneath a tall canopy of trees, I heard the familiar sound of a branch or trunk squeaking in the wind. Oh boy, that caught my attention. The first time I heard that sound was about 35 years ago, I was playing frisbee in a forested area near Walnut Creek in Covina with my husband (then boyfriend) and his friends when we all stood still to listen to a strange creaking sound. And then, before our eyes, a 30 foot tree crashed to the ground. Many years later, as I sat in the Holy Jim parking lot in Trabuco Canyon, I heard that same strange creaking sound coming from above. And then right before my eyes, I watched a giant branch fall several stories high, smashing into the ground below, barely missing the cars parked there. And so, having heard this creaking again, I did the only thing that came to mind. I quickly ran ahead out of the wooded area. Then I stood back and watched. Nothing fell this time. I hope that when it does, it does off trail or when no one is around!

The season was surely spring as evidenced by all the flowers. But it was definitely like a winter day. I sure relished it because I knew it would most likely be my last until next winter. Winter was my season this year. I am grateful for it.

8.54 mi with 1,431 ft of elevation gain (not exactly flat, I know, but these trails definitely seem flat in comparison to other trails).