Facing West from California’s Shores

Facing west from California’s shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity,
the land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circled;
For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia, from the north, from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south, from the flowery peninsulas and the spice islands,
Long having wander’d since, round the earth having wander’d,
Now I face home again, very pleas’d and joyous,
(But where is what I started for so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)

  by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

I have always related to the feeling that (most) travel implies search; even if you can’t quite name what you are searching for: you do know if you found it or not. It might be the thrill of adventure, it might be vast increments in knowledge about the world otherwise unavailable to you, or, as was regularly true for me, new insights into who you yourself are, when taken out of your habitual context. You might or might not like what you discover, but there you are.

Stop for a Covered Bridge (1907/1945) originally fording the Willamette river – now an interpretative center for the history of the region before the Dexter Dam flooded the area.

All of this still applies even when you travel primarily to be with someone, if the journey takes you to a place that is sufficiently different from the one you come from, as is the case here and now, in Southern California. Really, the entire drive down once again affirmed the incredible spectrum of landscapes this beautiful continent offers.

Closed pass over Mt. Shasta re-opened the next day. Plowed snow and abandoned trucks on the right.

It was not without challenges. What looked like a sunny day after a safe escape from the snows of Portland, turned into a nail biter. Winter weather closed more southern portions of I 5, forcing an unanticipated stop in Ashland, OR. Luckily we found accommodations.

Not what you expect the California’s fruit bowl to look like…

Rains and thunderstorms made for intense navigation out of San Mateo, the next stop, once yet another closed part of the Highway across the San Gabriel Mountains reopened. But no ice and snow on the road, at any time, with plows working overtime.

Getting greener once south of San Mateo, although the storm clouds gathered and opened their spigots eventually.

Flooding along the road and cold cows….

First palm trees appeared, whipped by win

as did miles of fracking for oil.

Green hills giving way to snow-capped mountains along the stretch of I5 called The Grapevine.

Then snow flakes in L.A.! Or more precisely Pasadena, where I rented a small studio in lush green gardens that didn’t quite know what to do with 35 degrees.

You’ve got the visual diary of the route. Once I’m settled, I will report on the current sights. Here is a teaser from the view out of my window. No bird remains unfound…

Music today is more of an introduction to the diversity of immigrants and their folk music (16 languages) of California. A fascinating project in the 1930s that withstood the xenophobia of the time. Here is a link to the Library of Congress where you can choose which of the above mentioned music you want to listen to.