Beware The Tides of January

We awoke abruptly January 15th to a National Weather Service tsunami warning (maybe it was an advisory), stemming from an undersea volcano explosion near Tonga (in the South Pacific), urging everyone in San Diego's coastal areas to stay away from the beach, where waves of 1-3 feet were expected. 1-3 feet. As a result, no doubt, the roads to Pacific Beach, a mile from here, became immediately clogged by cars carrying surfboards and anything else that might catch a wave. T-shirt makers presumably are already marketing their "I survived the 2022 tsunami in San Diego" wares.

I suppose we are in fact in a coastal area, about 200 feet from a beach on Mission Bay, a little over a mile to the actual ocean. Mission Bay, as I noted in a previous post, is a completely man-made "bay," dotted with islands and peninsulas and such, and featuring an assortment of parks, trails, nature reserves, marinas, beaches, golf courses, athletic fields, and, of course, Campland on the Bay, a campground where we are presently and pleasantly ensconced. It's all on landfill, 8-10 feet above the bay's dredged out water level, which is entirely protected from the ocean except by a narrow channel. Subsequent visual inspection of the bay by me revealed its usual glassy surface. If the tsunami in fact got into Mission Bay, it was probably about the size of the tidal bore we saw in Moncton, New Brunswick, 50 or so years ago, which we pronounced a total bore. 

We didn't venture outside to witness the tsunami on the bay because--horrors!--it was raining. Rain is not what one comes to San Diego for, and on this day it has caused us to completely revise our plan of activities. Just what one might expect on the Ides. Instead of continuing the camper waxing project, Vicki is baking scones. We may have to delay or even cancel our daily walk. We are now regularly doing around 15,000 steps a day. But, our other daily activities, cooking, reading, planning future travels, churning credit cards, working on the camper, watching assorted videos or TV, will continue. If nothing else, the tsunami and rain have given me the pretense needed to post again, after a couple weeks of inactivity. Be safe.

Undersea volcanic eruption

Mission Bay from outer space

The wolves of capitalism never sleep

PS...the next day we walked to the (ocean) beach by way of Sail Bay, to survey the havoc wrought by the tsunami...

Although there were vestiges of the previous day's rain all
around, there was only one sad fatality...

The 1-3 foot waves of the tsunami apparently were too much for her
diminutive stature...RIP, Barbie

Interim Update #1,260

Happy New Year! January 2nd finds us again on Mission Bay, near San Diego. It was an interesting journey, getting here.

We bade our farewells in Menlo Park December 29th, and headed south on US 101, hoping to swing over to California 1, the coastal route, and to enjoy the scenery (also the sprawl) all the way to San Diego. Just past Gilroy, however, we learned that route 1 was closed indefinitely...slips and slides...so we backtracked a bit, crossed Pacheco Pass and then drove down I-5, through the Valley of Fruits and Nuts, to the intersection with route #58 and a night at a large truck stop there. All was well, if cold and rainy, and we were happy to be on the road again. The next day, heading south with only 100 miles' travel before us, things went very south: I-5 was "closed indefinitely" due to snow and ice on Caradhras, I mean Tejon Pass. "So, if the mountain defeats you, Gandalf, where then will you go?" we asked ourselves. The nice highway patrol person suggested we detour on route #58, east of Bakersfield. Apparently he told some other people to do this too, since there was much traffic, grid-lock, and red zone on Google Maps the next six hours it took us to get to our motel in Van Nuys. Fortunately, there was no Balrog of Morgoth along the way.

"Motel in Van Nuys?" you ask. Yes. The rain and snow and ice and traffic were only the beginning of a long, not very good day. Although I had had some significant professional interaction with the Getty way back in 1992, we'd never been to the museum, and thought this trip might be the right opportunity. We'd reserved two nights at a motel in Van Nuys, planning to Uber over to the museum on December 31st, to see it on what was presumably one of its least busy days, and then carry on southward. Despite years of museum experience worldwide and two years' experience in dealing with COVID and its implications, we had failed to do a late check on whether the Getty's admission policies had changed in view of Omicron. Apparently they had, and they were sold out for the day in question as well as the next week.  A disappointment, but very likely we'll be back through, sometime. Anyhow, Vicki was able to cancel the second night at the motel, and the next morning our trip south continued.

Our first priority on leaving Van Nuys was to get some diesel for the camper. We'd arrived in a rainstorm with the fuel gauge already showing "reserve." Our first several tries suggested only bio-diesel was available. According to Mercedes-Benz, more than 5% bio-diesel is verboten for Sprinters. So we resolved to drive across Los Angeles County on reserve, hoping it would carry us 60 or 75 miles to a truck stop or such where regular old normal diesel #2 might be available. By the time we got into Orange County, my nerves were frazzled, and we stopped and bought four gallons of "renewable diesel." (Movies have been made about people who run out of gas in east LA (Grand Canyon)). Those four gallons smelled like French fry oil but, we have since read, are okay for our rig in an emergency. They got us to our next stop, the Alise Creek rest area, overlooking the Pacific, just north of Oceanside. There we spent a surprisingly quiet New Year's eve, along with a handful of other campers. As students of this blog know, we are not big party types.

Next day, we proceeded on to Oceanside harbor and the large RV parking area there, right on the beach, getting excellent mileage out of the French fry oil. We spent a pleasant day and night there, enjoying the warmer, sunnier, drier weather, looking at all the surfers, the vintage and other cars on parade, and other campers. A very southern California crowd, all the stereotypes and other things in abundance. Today, Sunday, we had a nice outside lunch with Vicki's brother Bob and his wife Beth before heading on the few remaining miles to Mission Bay. Detouring, of course, to fill up with some good old diesel #2. 

We plan to lay low at Campland on the Bay, on Mission Bay, where we stayed two months last year,  resting for a few weeks, monitoring Omicron and related matters (our Paris boosters are feeling a bit dated), and deciding what to do and where to go next. Stay tuned.

Departure, December 29th, 2021

"And if the mountain defeats you, where then will you go, Gandalf?"

Still whizzing during the winter storm, unlike in Texas

Cactus vs. tree, Van Nuys

Across the channel at Oceanside Harbor, a chorus of harbor 
seals barked all through the night

New Year's Day sunset

Vicki, Beth, and Bob

Fun Old-Fashioned Family Christmas, 2021

Christmas scenes from 2021, at Rebecca and Jeremy's in Menlo Park. Rachel and Will were back in Missoula, visiting the Sehestedts. 

Christmas eve lunch: the cheese fondue course

Egg nog tasting (Nellie's was the consensus
favorite); note Wally World tasting cup

Christmas eve fondue dinner...shrimp, scallops, chicken, steak;
and the array of sauces at the end of the table

Happily, our Christmas pyramid (from Kathe
Wohlfahrt, Rothernburg ob der Tauber, 1979)
worked yet again; taller candles help

Among our traditions is opening a present on
Xmas eve 

Action shots of me opening a sweatshirt from Rebecca and
Rachel: "It's a beaut, Clark!", a favorite line from Christmas
Vacation 

Christmas morning: a sashibo from Aunt Carole

Relishing the thought of dyeing Grandma's hair...
green? red? blue? chartreuse?

Penelope's super-sized stocking

Undoubtedly more Potter-head paraphrenalia

Crafts and make-up, her other passions; presently

Book-binding kit; now she has to write the book

Christmas brunch

Ditto

Setting for Christmas dinner: the cheese and 
charcuterie course; after all these meals, we had
to wait a couple days for the chocolate fondue
finale; see previous post

Holiday Fun, 2021

Our holidays have become increasingly complex, as the next generation embellishes on established traditions and then adds its own. Describing all this is beyond the scope of this blog, although the pix below will convey some of the holiday fun leading up to the big eve and the big day and its big aftermath. 

It all begins with Thanksgiving; I was particularly thankful for
being back where the best poulet roti in the world is made...
Costco; pictured are Jeremy, Penelope, and Rebecca

Penelope at one of Grandma's traditional teas

Making Xmas cookies with Mama

Celebrating Salvador Dali's 117th unbirthday

Recreating Stonehenge, in the camper, December 21st

Alas, I forgot to orientate it to the sunrise...but it could 

well be oriented to the sunrise on Salisbury Plain, that 

day, 4,000-5,000 years ago

Every day, we (Vicki) labored, going through
all the stuff we have stored at Rebecca's since 
2012; here, one of many loads going to charity
shoppes, recycling, etc.

Vicki did quite well on eBay; approaching the age of 75, I finally
conceded that I no longer needed my climbing equipment (even
for wall decor, as in Montana); the Chouinard piton hammer went
for $129 

The pitons, carabiners, chocks (above, a set of 1972 Chouinard
hexentrics, tied at the REI store in Seattle) and such for $369

Decorating the camper Xmas tree

Looking at Xmas lights in Palo Alto

Thank you, nice stranger who took the picture

Un pour tous et tous pour un: chocolate fondue occurred a few days
after Xmas this year

As did the dyeing of Grandma's hair, a Xmas gift Grandma gave
Penelope

Xmas morning did not start well...a frantic call
from Rebecca, who had pre-heated the oven 
without knowing Vicki's traditional Swedish
tea ring was waiting in it; just the day before
Vicki had delivered an injunction to always check
the oven before pre-heating; but all was well...
Grandmas rarely have a chance to say "I told you so";
plus Vicki had a welcome opportunity to channel
Ewell Gibbons' "some parts are edible"

Pinnacles Again, 2021

Other than a few California state parks, Pinnacles National Park is the closest big park with a campground, and it has become our go-to park from Menlo Park in the cooler months. (In warmer weather, there's Yosemite, if you can get in, and Pinecrest, in the national forest north of Yosemite; but both are at higher altitudes and doubtlessly covered in snow in December). Anyhow, we wanted to do one more camping trip with grand-daughter Penelope, who will turn eleven next April. It was one of our best with her.

Deer at our campsite

And a flock of wild turkeys

Documenting the wildlife

Practice climbing on some of the pinnacles (not us)

P doing some climbing on her own; Grandma looking on

Spelunking in the caves; she enjoyed it so much we
went back for a repeat the next day 

Trail humor

After dinners of hot dogs and then hamburgers (and s'mores),
the third night we dove deep into Vicki's Girl Scout camping
background to create hobo tin-foil packets...boeuf, pommes de
terre, les carottes...with enough salt and catsup, they were
fine, especially washed down, in my case, with a hobo-camp-level
merlot

Watching the deer again, on perhaps her last visit to Pinnacles
as a child