Perfect Weekend (3)

Sun, 2.29.2004


Since we didn't engage in any physically demanding activities yesterday, John wanted to go for a hike. Particularly, he hoped to spot snakes.

He had heard after spring rains, snakes were out and about. Old Mission Dam was one of the locations.

We found out Oak Canyon, a trail just off Old Mission Dam, was still closed. I was glad that we're off possible snake sightings.

We then headed over Kwaay Paay Summit Trail. It was our first time there. Most of the time we took the Grinding Rocks Trail, a one-mile loop rock climbers used to get to the "walls." It's a bit strenuous thus a fast workout route. (We don't do rock-climbing.) We wanted to try different trails but parts of the park were closed due to the horrendous forest fire last October. Finally, we could explore other parts of Mission Trails Regional Park.

The rolling green hills would definitely trick you into thinking you're somewhere else. Spring in San Diego is incredibly lovely. For a short 2 to 3 months, the nature smiles at us with golden poppies, lilacs, laurels, sage, sunflowers..., etc. You think only beaches worth visiting?

A life circle begins at the city of desert climate. I'm truly amazed by encounters with nature in this region -- it doesn't matter whether it's a prickly pear, a horned lizard, or an eroded canyon.

We took the steep trail as a pleasant surprise. John loves a demanding (and scenic) hike. The heavy rain had dug furrows on the loose soil. Fortunately, the ground was completely dry and firm, which didn't give us much trouble.

We heard birds chirping then saw plenty of good singers, a few American-Idol-reject crows, and hawks. Some of them may not be known as great singers but always crowd pleasers -- the hummers. Humming Birds can be seen almost anywhere in San Diego year around.

On our way to the summit, a few Anna's and Black-Chins danced freely with astonishing speed. Here, a flash of dazzling magenta (Anna's throat); there, a glimmer of teal (Anna's body). They zoomed across the hills right in front of our eyes. Although binoculars helped us observe with great clarity, they were simply too expeditious to follow. We enjoyed the surprises brought by these little creatures every few moments. A couple of Black-Chins rested on bare branches making calls and we were lucky enough to snap a few pictures to take home as souvenirs to remember this hike by.

As we headed upward, a field of blue bushes came in sight. John burst out a WOW. The sunrays had smuded the shades into fainted lavender. Yes, we recognized them but never learnt the name. They were bees' favorite.

We then had the bouquet of thousands of tiny blue flowers to company us to the top.

Actually, we didn't find the "summit." There weren't any signs. We walked around a web of trails at seemingly the highest part of the hill. Oh, why would it matter anyway?

Kumeyaay Lake and Grass Crossing first came into field of vision. Off distance, downtown skylines with surrounding silvery ocean waves beamed the charms of sunny San Diego at us and the mesas in Mexico stood serenely in the mist of a marine layer.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a picnic up there?

Yes, very much so.

Our energies perspired along with the sweat but no supplies to refill. It's 3 pm when we finally descended to the foothill (after a 3-hour hike).

Kumeyaay Lake was just across street (Father Juniper Trail). How could we miss that? So, I dragged my feet and empty stomach to go for another half-hour stroll. John seemed to be very good-spirited, without a sign of running out of gas. My knees started to hurt a bit. It occurs from time to time after descending steep hills, which is the "aftermath" of a successful climb to the Rim of Mt. St. Helens 2 and half years ago.

I couldn't shake the image of Grass Crossing off my mind and I knew we'd return when it's open. (Closed for raining season.)

For the moment, the calling of hamburgers was a lot more irresistible.

PS. We didn't go the museums after all.

Perfect Weekend (2)

Sat, 2.28.2004


The storm was gone. San Diego returned to her sunny old self.

Since it's the end of half-price-admission Museum Month, we didn't plan to makeup the camping trip lost to the weather.

"Maybe we'll just go to the museums tomorrow." John had his heart set on beaches.

He said, a few days ago, during a break from the pouring rain, he saw flocks of pelicans and gulls, fish hunting by the shore.

It's quite fun to watch pelicans dive (hunt). So, we headed OB (Ocean Beach) with some wine.

John always wanted to sip wine at the beach but we were too lazy to prepare a picnic basket. For the first time we brought wine along (no food though).

We don't particularly care for whites. I thought Beaujolais would be a good choice; however, brining a full bottle would hinder our walk. John picked a 1/3 bottle of Merlot left from previous tasting as our companion.

No pelicans in sight as we talked along the OB pier, claiming to be the longest in the West Coast. With few tourists and few fishing patrons, we were delighted.

Three Latinos acted rather excited as we passed by.

"No way, Jose!" One of them yelled.

A teenage boy in the group hurried reeling up (fishing line). We quickly approached them to see what he'd got.

No way! I'd exclaim the same.

It was a lobster so huge that made any one waiting to be sold at the grocery stores looked like prawns.

OK. I exaggerate a little.

That was one giant red lobster.

I pulled out my camera ready for the rare moment.

Jose -- the boy's name turned out to be Jose for real -- seemed to had a hard time battling the weight. His two companions rushed to give him a hand, hands, rather.

When the lobster was almost within reach, bam, it hit the wood railing fenced around the pier. The lobster, given a free bungee jumping of a lifetime, returned to the ocean.

Those three amigos stood in disbelief. So did we.

Shortly after, we found an unoccupied bench, nearly spotless, thanks to the rain, sat down, and enjoyed our Merlot. (Off distance, the talk of lobster carried on.)

Except for the waves, the beach community appeared tranquil for a Saturday afternoon.

John looked through a pair of binoculars, hoping to spot something.

"It's whale migrating season. They say you can see them by the shore."

"We might come at the wrong time of a day then. Don't even see a pelican." I said.

Speaking of the birds� a group of five gracefully glided over us, which put a little smile on John's face.

He continued to look through binoculars and sighed: "I wish we could see some dolphins."

At the corner of my eye, I saw a slender creature of the color black hoping over water. Hastily, I motioned to the right: "Look!"

Fins.

"I was just saying it!" John exclaimed.

There was a group of porpoises swimming side by side.

John handed me another pair of binoculars we brought along. For a while, we watched them swim, jump over the waves, dive, then emerge� until the fins waned in the golden rays.

Holding optics in the chilling wind made me cried for contrasting activities after the excitement of spotting marine mammals wore off.

The wine was long gone.

What a nice afternoon! Nothing would be more perfect than finishing it with a bowl of clam chowder.

We strolled over whatever-the-name-is caf� at the pier and ordered the grand finale of our beach outing.

The little eatery swayed as the waves crushing in; our lips, too, arched half moon.

Perfect Weekend (1)

Fri 2.27.2004


John had bought the tickets soon after Ratdog announced their tour for year 2004.

Last year the band toured south Cal around the same time of the year. This was the second time we'd have seen them in San Diego.

We went to 4th & B at about 8:30 pm, 30 minutes after the door opened, sort of missing actions in the parking lot and the waiting lines. But we knew there'd always be something going on after the show.

Tired from work, both of us chose to sit through, at least, the first set. We chatted away nearly an hour before the show started. While we're talking, John spotted a man with gray hair 4 or 5 rows below us. He joked: "Hey, that guy looks like Bill Walton!" Well, we only saw the back of that guy with nice wheat colored sports jacket (suit-like) on. I, kind of, doubted Bill would sit in the area for regular Joe's. Don't they have private seating sections at 4th & B? I don't know�

Three men came sitting next to us. One of them started to talk to us about the tie-dye shirt in his hand.

"You don't see many long-sleeved ones. This guy and his wife made�" he went on and on raving about his shirt.

"That's a cool pattern." John sounded enthusiastic.

"This guy and his wife made tie-dyes for years�" He sure was gong ho about it.

"How much is it?" John started to ask him about sales related questions. All along we thought he's selling T-shirts.

"No! No! No! I'm a consumer." He laughed.

"Where d'you get it?"

"At the parking lot."

He and his friends set their coats on the chairs then took off, no even checking back during the break. (What...?)


As the crowd filled the entire dance floor, Bob and gang took center stage. I always love their opening jam -- a jazzy tune would mellow you away.

Plenty of fav songs and a bit less experimented sounds than last year, I thought. John commented the "Little Red Rooster" was the best version he's heard for years.

When the second set started, I seriously could not sit any longer. I've been sitting all day at work already and the sleeping bug almost got me right then. (Sorry Bob! It's not you; it's me.)

I urged John to the dance floor. It's the best way to enjoy a concert!

There was a man towering everybody on the floor with both of his hands raising in the air. The sleeves were half solid color and half tie-dyed; on the back, just below the neck, on a bed of navy nested a lighting bolt (skeleton head) in white. It was Bill Walton, no doubt about it.

We were 2 to 3 feet from Bill, so I could see, occasionally, someone came patting his back or shaking his hands. Over all, people left him alone to enjoy the show. It's no secret that Bill is one of the most known deadheads. Spotting him at any of "the other ones" shows might not be as rare as I thought. (Still, people often behave strangely around celebrities.)

The show was great but the coolest part, I thought, was the live recording available immediately after the show. I'm amazed by the technological advancement. Perhaps, it's the norm nowadays but we just don't go out often enough to know. Anyway, they must have had burnt the CDs with incredible speed and no time to put song list on. (The set list had already been posted on-line when we got home.)

John purchased the live recording of the night (3 CD set) then we hung out at the parking lot for a while, buying ourselves a couple of tie-dye shirts. Long-delayed. I never wanted anything that possibly would address a statement or cause mis-perceptions. (How silly of me.)

A drum jamming session in the parking lot heated up the 45-degree air. Well, there's only one drum. A few pounded on the (metal) service boxes around the curb. I couldn't tell what kind of service boxes those were. Traffic lights? Electricity?

The smell of tacos at the (temporary) sidewalk stands reminded us dinner was 6 hours ago. We walked away from the late night snack and sober, heading home. I like that!

How do I know the post url?

see the feed again

Title_Post

Just want to see the format...

Wed 2/4/04 12:06:59 PM US PST

(First part started on 1/28/04)


Future Blogging


OH OH OH OH OH

This bugs me so much!

I don't know what I'll do with all my sites. Being a blogger for a couple of years now, I've got 2 personal sites at Kimo, 1 "News Channel" at PCHome, and 2 blogs I decide to keep (after trying 5). Not to mention I have 2 other photo sites built exclusive for family members. It seems silly to have so many to maintain, doesn't?

It doesn't matter if it's a personal web site, news posting, travel logs or photos; it's a form of blogging. I'd like narrow down to probably 4 or 5 sites.

1 blog & 1 photo album for my family.

1 or 2 blogs & 1 photo album for my blogger friends.

Perhaps I will just use kimo sites to store old articles I've written...

Hope this will work~~~