It's a lovely time to travel, as we have had lots of rain and the wild flowers are magnificent. I always enjoy the beauty of the natural desert which can be seen as you escape the strip malls and endless beige stucco houses that cover the vast majority of the Phoenix metro area. Hiking the mountain ranges that surround the valley is a nice way to remind yourself of this. I try to meet friends to enjoy and appreciate both the company and the natural wonder as often as possible.
So, West of Phoenix and on into California was beautiful with the wildflowers dotting the highway,
I had calculated the time, distance and fuel needed for both myself and my car but what I hadn't considered was the Monarch butterfly migration. As I traveled west on I10, making my way from Arizona to California and on into the Palm Springs area, I encountered a proliferation of flying insects. Unfortunately, they were coming at my car and I was coming at them. I kept imploring them with cries of "altitude" but one after the next met an untimely death on my windshield. It was devastating and at the time I wasn't even sure what they were.
As I continued on the long drive, the insects were almost a constant, as was the traffic. Slowly, the number of Arizona plates decreased and the number of California plates increased. There are always the outliers, cars with plates from other states, that remind you that the length of your drive could be worse. As I continued on and my ass felt numb, I would see a car from Georgia or Idaho, and feel a bit better knowing my road was not as long. The mountains over Palm Springs had a light dusting of snow. Between that and the wildflowers, the stretch of road from Arizona into and through California was as delightful as I have seen.
LA is always a challenge. The geography lends itself to a difficult drive. You never know what is around the bend or over the hill and the traffic feels frenetic as you negotiate geography. I use the ever present stop and go traffic to amuse myself. As I pass each street, I move through the card catalog of my mind, organizing and assigning street names. Some of the names are amusing, often familiar based on the name and personal association, others are just funny sounding. As I pass, each exit I assign it a place in my own frame of reference. Topanga: love interest on Boy Meets World. Buena Vista: Disney. Mullholland Drive, a movie that won several awards. I continue on, my tush getting ever more numb and my mind wondering between road signs and insects. There are still butterflies hovering in commute traffic but far fewer.
Eventually, the traffic decreases and I feel the cool refreshing ocean air drift through my vents filling my senses. Traveling through Ventura, I take in the ocean expanse to my left, shimmering silver and gold with the setting sun, the occasional oil rig dotting the horizon. To my right the hills are a glorious emerald green after a particularly rainy season. Even the craggy mountains that rise above them are wearing green.
On past Santa Barbara, finally leaving the freeway and snaking west through farms and open land.
I finally arrive just in time for dinner. My sister has made pizza from scratch and we sit down to catch up. I spent the evening, two days and a morning mostly hanging out, catching up and reminiscing in equal measure. I was entertained by two cats, and two dogs with Babette, the french bulldog being the newest addition. I came home with some cd's my sister ended up with when my eldest brother passed, a couple of books and a bag of beans. My kind of souvenirs!
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