San Francisco - Yosemite - Sequoia - Joshua Tree - Palm Springs - San Diego
9 days - 2 people - 2 (almost) direct flights - One rental car ...
There is something of a primordial nature in a roadtrip. I think as long as since life appeared on Earth, organisms came to be and then they started moving about - in search of something specific, like food or water, or better conditions, or just to explore and know their environment.
I love all kinds of travel, but road trips anchor me. They force me to get in touch with the simple, most basic needs, and force me to think creatively - when you are in the middle of nothing but nature, tens or hundreds of miles away from cell signal and wifi, you turn on your analog brain and think - how to navigate the road back, how to avoid danger, listen to your stomach - are you hungry? Stop to eat. You are not, continue. Driving further, seeing more, snapping pictures along the way are the only priorities. You’re out of touch with the world - and that is the most peaceful feeling for me. There is no worry and no fear. This is also refreshing, like the surprise of a cold shower, because I don’t get to tap into it every day.
I have been sitting on this “roadtrip through California" itinerary for years, and finally, a conference in San Diego made it possible for us to find the excuse to fly there, rent a car and wander the roads, just as the leaves were starting to turn - a time when most say, “is the best”. There were a couple of things that got left out because we can only fit so much in a week. But at the end of it all we were full and exhausted and on a high that’s lasted over a month now ... Took us the better part of the whole month of October just to process the pictures - more than 5000 ...
These are some thoughts I scribbled along the way with things that stuck with me, and some of my favorite shots, too. It’s impossible to truly pick my favorite shots because there are too many and this blog is long enough.
Thanks for coming along for the ride with me ...
***
Heading from San Francisco to Yosemite National Park will have you drive through the small town of Mariposa - an old Gold Rush town, typical of a Western vibe. Businesses in one-story wooden buildings, glued to each other like train cars. Stop for a minute and take it in. People are friendly and the stores are cute. The history of the times gone by is now buried in the antique stores downtown.
Yosemite View Lodge, our home for two nights, was an old, ‘50s motel, similar to the one we stayed in this summer in Bar Harbor, Maine, only minimally nicer than that one. I have to wonder how something as old as that is still standing with what seems like very few renovations. You can smell the oldness in every room, kind of when you visit your great-grandma and the whole house smells “old” - damp, dusty, and worn out. It showed its age not only in its deprecation, but also in the strangeness of the room: it was one of those motel-like establishments, where you walk in the room from a breezeway that faces the parking lot. There is a window in the bathroom, right next to the entrance door to the room. There was a massive jacuzzi tub in the bathroom as well, with a curtain between the bathroom and the room. I suppose back in those days, this was the peak of luxury - you get a hotel room with a fireplace (yep, it had one of those), a jacuzzi and a kitchenette - a perfect, romantic getaway for possibly the middle class couple who just became empty nesters and who had saved all their lives to finally celebrate their freedom. The massive tub was dingy, worn out and truly a death trap - so slippery, and depp that someone short like me felt like climbing a wall every time I would get in and out. I absolutely hate tubs in hotels, but that was the only place you could take a shower in. No separate shower back then, either, I suppose?
Although you’re in California, in a dry climate, there was no lotion at the hotel - this is unusual for any hotel but hotels in The West usually have large bottles of very good lotion. Just a note.
The room was definitely not done up for 21st century sensibilities, but once we opened the balcony door and looked outside, we forgave every miss! Just like the hotel in Bar Harbor again: the worth of the place was in its view.
Our 3rd floor balcony (no elevators, either) opened up over the rumbling Merced river that cuts through Yosemite National Park. The river was not at an all-time high, but not low,either. It had enough water to make rapids and cast a loud echo through the narrow valley where the lodge all of a sudden looked dwarfed. The minute we opened the door and looked down over the water, my husband says “oh, check out the blue heron” - there was a heron perched on one of the huge boulders, just looking Westward in the still bright sunset light.
From our hotel's balcony, at Yellowstone View Lodge
We had dinner both nights at the only restaurant on site, aptly named The River Restaurant, because it, too, is perched right on the river, like the rest of the resort. It had a Swiss chalet feel inside, with wooden walls, fireplaces and pretty much every shelf in the place adorned with bottles of beer from all over the world.
In unison with the whole place, it showed age and lots of generations of tourists - dingy, worn-out seats which were about three cleanings past due, wobbly wooden chairs, smelly, stained carpet, probably holding the weight of 5000 meals over the years, and an ominous sign at the hostess station “We have no trout. Sorry!” Well why in the world are you even open, then? - I say. The food was comfort food meets pub food, with everything from pasta and pizza (made next door) to meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and fish and chips (but no trout).
We didn’t want to sit on the patio because we were afraid of bugs or getting too cold (we were going to fix this the following night), but they gave us a seat next to the window. During our dinner, we saw this creature climbing on the tree outside the window and we could not figure out what it was - it was faster than anything I have ever seen, kinda looked like a raccoon but not quite - the tail was bigger than a racoon’s and the body much smaller than the tail, in comparison, gray with the tails in alternate grey and black rings. She seemed curious, but also scared and rushed - I ventured outside to grab a picture of it, although it was after it had gotten completely dark. The people on the patio offered the name: a ringtail cat. A nocturnal animal which seemed to have been feeding on scraps left out by the restaurant on the patio. So much for “do not feel the wildlife”, I guess. She was gone by the time I got there.
Back to the room after dinner, we sat on our patio listening to the river, sipping our wine, and waiting for the full moon to rise over the valley. Flashbacks from my childhood when I grew up in the Carpathians, at the bottom of a narrow valley next to a roaring river came back something big ... That was back when I was young, life was simple and dreams were big. Back then, spending one day in The American Rockies was but a dream, if that!
While on the patio, we discovered, there were in fact no bugs. We had left them all in North Carolina, apparently. We had forgotten how peaceful and refreshing mountain cool late summer nights are in The Rockies.
There was no argument that we were going to sleep with the window open that night. And indeed we did. The tiredness of the flight and the long road up to The Park, the jetlag, and our ages needed the restful sleep that can be had only in the freshest of mountain airs. However, it was also ... fire season in the High Sierras. So, Yosemite was partially on fire. Only Glaciar Point (one of the many areas of interest), but smoke travels. So, the open window was nice as far as the sound of the river went but the air smelled faintly of firewood burning the whole night. It drowned the smelly, wet, old carpet in the room and I was not complaining.
The next morning, there were flakes of ash in the air, also from the fires which we never really were to see, afterall, but there were reminders like these that kept it real for us. Downstream, the horizon, narrowed by the closeness of the steep mountains on both sides of the road, was clear; upstream, towards The Park, the sky was smoky and brownish-beige. We were nervous we might not be allowed to see much in The Park, because we were not sure where this Glacier Point is, but we ended up seeing all there is to see in Yosemite Valley and mostly accessible by car.
After the fires die down - what is left ...
The next morning, after a River Restaurant breakfast buffet, we headed towards the park. This was our first time in Yosemite. You hear the stories, you see the movies, you read the books, you watch the documentaries, but nothing, absolutely nothing, prepares you for its majesty. It is quite simply, a piece of heaven, here on earth, regardless of whether you believe in such a place or not. Whatever your idea of heaven might be (regardless of your religious propensity), that is what Yosemite might feel like - or it did to me.
Yosemite was one of those parks that stuns in diversity and grandeur. It is so massive, it is hard to comprehend its beginning and end, its margins at all. I love drive-through parks because they are relatively easy for people like me who have limited abilities to hike, and where you can take pretty much everything (or most) just by driving and stopping at overlooks. Yosemite is like that. At every corner, you see the river roar and bend, the rapids angrily washing over the house-sized boulders, the pine trees hanging on the steep mountain sides, sometimes the valley becoming so narrow you might think you can touch the two sides.
Granite and boulders the size of houses, on the Merced River
There is beauty, and mystery, and secrets, and purity in this park. Also reminders of darkness and strife, coldness and hardships. If you are quiet long enough and imagine, you can almost make yourself hear the native people’s flute whistling in the valley (or maybe that’s just the wind in the almost yellow leaves? Or the stream swishing softly on the rocks in the flat parts?) as you drive in and through the lower part of the park.
Where the river quiets down to a swish ...
I looked and looked for wildlife, but outside many ravens there was nothing. No deer, nor squirrels even. Just vegetation, rocks, and the river.
I knew some things we had to see and was hoping they would be along the way. No pictures I have ever seen does this place justice. I had read about Yosemite Meadow, about El Capitan and the Half Dome - I had a vague idea of what I am looking for, but I was so afraid that I might not be able to recognize them in person. Not that two of the mountains ever looked alike, but they are all impressive. No idea why only some of them got famous in the park’s folklore because every one of them is worthy of a secret and a story. We walked The Meadow, through the brush and sage bushes at one end, El Capitan towering in the distance, and we walked again to the Bridal Veil Falls, on the other side of the meadow, across the street from El Capitan. I looked for rock climbers, but there were none.
The Meadow and its staunch sentinels in their autumn glory
We stopped and just listened to the sounds of this enormous cathedral. I was trying to picture the many generations of native tribes that had blessed these grounds so much longer than our race ever happened on this land. The stories that these stones, trees, stumps and brushes could tell! Similarly to what I felt in Zion, the experience at the bottom of the valley felt much like that of standing in a gothic cathedral - you feel small, inconsequential, in front of a much bigger and much more powerful force than your brain and your being can comprehend.
El Capitan is truly as impressive as all the books and the pictures make it be! It feels like it is the one landmark in the valley elected by the forces to be the spokesperson of all things Yosemite! It is as tall as I imagined and intimidatingly straight. There is a perfect 90 degree angle between its almost pure white granite and the earth underneath. And yet it is unexpectedly more powerful than I ever imagined: it casts an energy that makes you wonder what are the secrets that it knows and has witnessed? How long has it been keeping these secrets and does it have a memory? Its energy and beauty are quite stunning. It begs for silence and deep respect.
El Capitan
We wanted to take on some of the trails that were accessible from the roads. My notes capture some of the highlights as we walked, taking in nature, and noticing our trail companions (the park was fairly full without being overcrowded). And they go something like this:
- Indian women in full safari and sneakers
- American women, blonde in Vineyard vines attire and flip flops
- Angry looking American men, loud, macho and overbearing. Not a clue in the world where they are and why it’s not about them. Some speaking about their sports prowess, some about how much they enjoy “true moonshine” that only them can find “from this buddy of theirs.”
- A Japanese older lady who could have been 80 easily, gently and graciously stepping carefully on the meadow, taking pictures on a tablet. You know how cute and endearing older people look with sophisticated technologies in hand?
Like Noah’s ark or The Babel Tower, you see all sorts. And you know that we all belong here. Not one of us out of place, really, despite our many differences ... Travel is always inclusive. We come from all places and we all ended up in this one common place - we’re all on equal footing. Equally as much away from out comfort zone and as lost as everyone else.
After finishing the hike to Bridalveil Falls (which was reduced to almost a trickle because of the fall season, but the verticality of the wall and its height were still impressive, as we were standing, dwarfed at the bottom of it), we headed to Yosemite Valley Lodge for lunch. The rawness and beauty of pure nature was a bit dimmed in this place as we had to order our food from computer screens without any human interaction, just about. It felt quite out of place and made me wonder what the world (this world in particular) would look like in 100 year’s time.
We had ravens keeping us company while eating our sandwiches on the picnic tables outside. They were so friendly, they jumped on the seats with us. Their sheer size is enough to scare the you know what out of you. Then, there is the stare and the enormous beak. There would be no flesh left on one’s arm bone, if that beak chomps down on it, I am sure.
Our picnic companion
After lunch, the road started climbing up. Our ears popped and we felt very much like we were on another famous road, in another beautiful park - the Going to the sun road in Glacier National Park. One side - the precipice, and further out, more mountains. One side - steep cliffs, climbing above our heads. When we reached Inspiration Point, we had to get out. I have no words to describe what opened up before our eyes! The entire valley, flanked by El Capitan on the left, Bridalveil Falls on the right, Half Dome in the smoky distance - and hundreds of miles (it seemed) in between of mountain after mountain, like stage props, layered up to give depth and distance ...
Yosemite Valley from Inspiration Point viewing area
I realized, again, like so many other times in my life, that I cannot ever not believe there is a God and a reason for all this. The world, the breath-stopping beauty and purity of it cannot be random. Cannot just be chance. Cannot just be physics. Physics does not have to be pretty. And let me tell you: I don’t care who you are and what your values are to gauge beauty, but anyone would agree that what was before me was truly, immensely special, rare, and gorgeous!
I realized then that what made this experience more powerful was being able to experience both perspectives: when on the bottom of the valley, with the rocky cliffs toppling over us, you get the human perspective: in the whole scheme of things, we are small. Nature, the planet, the world can crush us any minute. We step fearfully and watchfully, and wonder ... When we are at the top, looking down, we get God’s perspective - the might, the range, the never-ending boundaries, as we look down barely seeing, barely noticing what’s happening at the bottom. And we get to see, feel, smell, hear both with every pore in our bodies.
Immersing in Yosemite Park was a momentous milestone in my trekking years. Everything about it - the meadows, the waterfalls, the rapids on the massive boulders, the rawness of nature, the native echoes in the stories and artifacts - was eye-opening and truly deep. But Inspiration Point was the pinnacle of this experience. Standing next to El Capitan looking up was a close second.
After two nights at The Yosemite View Lodge, we started our descent South, towards Sequoia National Park. As we were leaving Yosemite, a coyote crossed our path. And more raven. Ravens were everywhere during this trip, with their mysterious stare. I kept wondering what they were trying to tell us of? Death? Sickness? Car breaking down? Weather turning and burning us up? What, I wonder? And then I researched - just about the only people on the planet that believe ravens are a good omen are native americans. They look at them for wisdom and protection. To them, they are known to have delivered light and warmth to humanity. We were on sacred grounds here, sure enough, so I kept hoping that given our context, they must be a good omen and after a while I welcomed their presence. They are incredibly fearless - sometimes they were within touching distance from people.
A coyote as we are leaving Yosemite Park
Next, we were to spend the night in this town of which I had never heard, called Visalia, CA. Its claim to fame, as much as I could find in my research, is that it is “The Gateway to the Sequoias”. I thought for sure it would be like a Moab or some such destination that has not much to offer but a bed and a shower because the attraction is the park. But it is a proper town, with a Marriott convention center, nonetheless.
But before we would head to Visalia for the night, we headed South-West, towards The Park.
I had wanted to touch a sequoia tree since my middle school geography class when my teacher told us about the sequoias - “So big around that 10 people holding hands cannot be enough to form a circle around one trunk.” I could not believe my curious teen mind at the time. I had always wanted to see for myself. Well, life takes you to interesting places ... Just make a list!
As I mentioned, we headed West towards the small and what seemed to be poor little town of Three Rivers - a rural desert town. Like every small town, you wonder if there is anything ever going on in it, only to hear yourself answer: “the drama and stories are rich and it’s palpable.”
Just like the ravens, “Three Rivers” has followed us around for the past couple of years. The first leopard we ever saw in the wild was called Three Rivers at the Londolozi Reserve in South Africa in April 2025. She died this year, unexpectedly. Driving through this town was a swift reminder, and a sense that the world is small.
After a quick photo stop at the bottom of The Generals Highway, the road that would take you through the park, we headed up. And up. And very much steeply more ... up. We noticed dark clouds gathering at the top of the mountain and we were telling ourselves those look way the heck up there, we probably won’t get to experience any of the “weather” that they looked they were amassing, threateningly, because we must be super close to seeing the trees and we would not have to climb all the way that high. And we kept climbing, through switchback roads, narrow and steep. And kept looking for sequoias. And looking ... and looking ...
The steep valley below, as we're looking for the sequoias
In the beginning, for a long while, we saw nothing but brush and California buckeyes along with thick brush. Then, we started seeing some coniferous forests, but not sequoias. We climbed for what seemed to be hours without a sequoia in sight ... We were wondering if we took the wrong turn somewhere ... And then ... there they were. Like giant candles at the feast of the earth, towering over the steep slopes, the tips so far from the ground it felt like they were in another galaxy. The easily recognizable red bark - such a beautiful rich color - not brown, not red, not brick, not maroon. Just somewhere in between and absolutely gorgeous, like the color of fawns in the summer - deep and plush.
They truly are that big. Can you spot us?
Around one of the bends in the road, we saw a bunch of cars stopped, quite precariously, on a cliff. Some people were milling about - we were wondering what is there to see? The valley always opens up on one side on these roads, so we were guessing it must be an overlook, but there was none. Instead, there were two black bears in a tree, eating some sort of fruit. People were maybe 10 feet away from the bottom of these trees, on foot. Not us. Obviously. Bears were completely uninterested in them.
Love when wild creatures allow themselves to be seen
By the time we saw them, it started to rain. As we climbed, we were watching the thermometer drop. It was close to 100F in Three Rivers. By the time we got to The Visitors Center, it was in the 40s! Good thing we had packed jackets. Too flimsy for 40 degrees, but helpful in the cold rain. The tops of the mountains ahead of us kept toppling over our heads, regardless of how much we were climbing - there was more ... At one point, above us, on the rocky peaks, we saw snow. But we never made it quite that far ...
We stopped for photos a few times and for a brief lunch at Lodgepole Market and Grill and to shelter from the rain a bit because it had picked up and prevented us from walking the trails to The General Sherman Tree - the largest tree by volume known in the world. It was sunny when we came out of the lodge, but still chilly.
We tried our darnest to find the General’s tree - but a difficult (and steep) trail which I was unable to climb and a walking detour I had to take on my own - because Aaron had parked quite illegally just to get me closer to the trail where it was more easily accessible - derailed me to where I could not find it. We saw plenty of beautiful, giant trees. I got to touch them (they are ever so soft, surprisingly) and even brought home a fallen sequoia cone - amazingly small compared to their size, probably the smallest coniferous cone I have ever seen. My teenager dream was still fulfilled - I had never heard of General Sherman’s tree before I made it there - that is one detail I am willing to live without.
The cone of the sequoia tree. No trees were hurt in the capture of this one solitary cone
After the visit with trees, we made a couple of more stops, at the Hospital Rock (how can you not stop at something named so surprisingly in the middle of this wilderness?) and at Tunnel Rock. Hospital Rock gets its name after two pioneers got injured in the area in the 19th century and they were nursed by the local tribes back to health at the rock.
We then headed down and eastward, towards our stop that night - Visalia. The hotel here, while not as “charming” as the one in Yosemite, nor with a beautiful view, was clean and full of modern conveniences, even complete with a bountiful dinner menu.
The following day, we began our descent into the desert, towards Palm Springs. You cross tens and maybe even hundreds of orchards on the way down - we could only guess they are almond and citrus orchards. One after another. We kept wondering, how do they keep them this green in a state known for a water shortage and in the middle of the desert. The air is just a little bit (sometimes more) smoggy or dusty and hard to breathe pretty much everywhere in California. A business was even called City Smog in Bakersfield. There, we stopped for a minute at Dewar’s Candy Shop which has been open since 1909. I kept thinking “this very store was here more than 100 years ago, selling candy and ice cream!” There, I had a vegan strawberry sorbet which was out of this world. The only other sorbet that was equally good that I still remember was also in California, on Venice Beach in 2017.
The counter at Dewar's Candy Shop
We got close to Palm Springs in the early evening and checked into our hotel in the adjacent town of Rancho Mirage. If I were to go back again, I would probably book something in the middle of the city. But not knowing the area, we wanted to be at the mid-distance between Palm Springs and Joshua National Park - our destination the following day.
We went to dinner in Palm Springs proper just to get a chance to take in the city that we had heard so much about. I worked with someone who went there for a vacation and ended up buying property because they fell in love with it. Many celebrities have lived in Palm Springs for many years - they even have a “Walk of the Stars" - much like the one on Hollywood Boulevard in LA.
On the "Walk of Stars" in Palm Springs, CA
Palm Springs was hot. Even after sundown - there is no other way to describe it. This was October, and it was an oven! The first night there, we were in the middle of what looked like a sand storm although the air was so stifling it was not moving. But there was sand visibly in the air and sticking to our SPF protected lotioned arms. We had no idea where dinner would be, so we drove down to Canyon Drive - one of the “main drag” streets in the city, parked on the street and walked about to find a place. All the places had outdoor patios with misters turned on and the indoors wide open to the outside. We were craving air conditioning but there was none to be had. It seemed like all the restaurants turned off their A/C in October (start of the “winter season”?), although the temps are still in the oh crap range at 98F and higher!
From the little we saw in the two days we stayed here, Palm Springs feels like a city still trying to define itself: between the walk of fame, celebrities’ stories and their famous hangout places, poverty, random development, walled-in homes next to vacant weedy, litter-loaded, vacant plots, some cheese (think Vegas look-alike without the neon), great art stores, art deco architecture, mid-century modern buildings, a friendly, gay- welcoming, Miami South Beach-like vibe, we were left wondering what is truly, Palm Springs? I guess all of these and I am sure, lots more. The hodge-podge of the place, safely nestled between hills at the bottom of a dust bowl valley makes for a unique destination for sure, although we could not “label” it, if you will.
On Canyon Drive, downtown
I love going to places where gay people feel safe walking hand in hand and where there are no uncomfortable stares from strangers. Such places exude a welcoming and a kindness that is hard to come by, sadly. I kept thinking how messed up humans are: there are no laws in this country or in the world where loud-mouth, macho rednecks, boasting about moonshine infringing on others’ peace and quiet are restricted from public life; but there are laws against same-sex adult people holding hands to show closeness and love to one another.
For some reason, it felt like we picked the best places to eat in Palm Springs, because both our dinners and one of the two breakfasts were absolutely outstanding. If you ever go, check out Eight4Nine (no, we did not see any celebrities we could identify) and TacQuilla for dinner and Don & Sweet Sue’s for breakfast. You can thank me later.
The sumptuous entrance at The Ingleside Estate, home of the Melvyn's Restaurant - Frank Sinatra's old hangout
On our drive from Rancho Mirage to Joshua National Park, we felt like we were back home, in the Western desert for certain now - the journey reminded us of driving miles and miles from our old home in Utah towards Vegas back in the day. The more we drove, the larger the road opened up to ... nothing but sage and sand and a big sky as far as the eye can see.
We stopped at the Visitors Center at the park entrance and the friendliest, most knowledgeable ranger gave us every detail we possibly could want or need to visit the park. He told us about the must-see stops, the ones we could skip, the ones that we could very much just see from the car. He warned us that “there is no shade. If you feel really hot right now (the thermometer was showing 90F but it felt much, much warmer than that!), just remember it will be hotter in the park and when you get out to see these places, there is truly no shade.” We knew. We had lived in the desert. In a strange, uncomfortable way, it was good to be home again.
The Joshua tree
He also warned us that we might not see Joshua trees right away. That for the first half of our trip (the Colorado Desert part), the ratio of sage to tree will be about 20% trees, and on the second half (the Mojave Desert part), we will get to about 80% trees.
I wish we had that kind of warning in Sequoia when we kept wondering where the trees were ... I noticed that in the gift shop, they had cardboard cartons of ... water ... This was a first for me. The awareness about protecting the environment is visible in California - others would call it “California crazy” but I am glad some people think about these things at a larger, visible scale: solar panels, hundreds maybe thousands of acres of windmill farms, no plastic bags at any of the stores, and ... cardboard boxes of water.
Joshua Tree National Park spreads across two deserts that are very different, although to an untrained eye, they might look the same: we entered the park through the Colorado Desert, a dryer, more arid area, home of the cholla cactus which looks like a skinny person with an afro.
In the Cholla Cactus Garden
The Mojave Desert is allegedly less dry and the home of the Joshua trees - a legitimate tree (not a cactus) which got its name from Mormon pioneers who thought they looked like Joshua praying with his hands towards the sky. Now, to me, the two deserts looked very much alike - dry, vast, mysterious, hilly, wide open and intensely hot without a trace of water.
We stopped a couple of times to walk some trails (the Chola Garden trail, Skull rock, Keys View - towering over Coachella Valley, and others with no visible names), and then we made our exit towards the town of Joshua Tree, another small, quiet, sleepy little town with almost no visible activity although you know it’s a mirage and there are tons of stories that the place could tell.
Atop Keys View, over the Coachella Valley
After two days in Palm Springs and Joshua Tree, we restarted our journey further South, towards San Diego, our final stop. The reason for the trip was a Family Heart Foundation Summit Conference where we also met up with my sister.
We made our way through more almond and citrus groves and some vineyards too to come to rest, finally, on our room’s patio at the Gaylord Hotel and Conference Center in Chula Vista, CA. The Spanish names of almost all places we had visited is a constant reminder we were on borrowed grounds. Or maybe just shared now. We closed the driving marathon that night sipping cocktails and listening to Bossanova music and Frank Sinatra serenading us from the speakers of the pool bar below our room’s balcony, and watching the sunset - our room facing directly West.
Although we were also watching planes zoom by, occasionally, the setting was surprisingly peaceful and relaxing. You could faintly hear the noises of the city. No kids - a bonus. Pools empty. It’s a conference center, so kids are not very popular, nor are the crowds at the pools at night.
Because we mostly spent our time at the conference, we had little time to explore San Diego. However, it was not possible to leave without a half-day visit to Balboa Park. If the rest of our trip we let nature sing and amaze us, now human art and ingenuity did almost the same.
Spanish Revival architecture at Balboa Park
My sister, a museum, art and history buff, soaked it up! As did we, our second time around. That park is so well done, I always fail to accurately describe it - well-planned, easy to walk about, absolutely gorgeous - no tree out of place, no bench unkempt, the cool, shady walkways are a pleasant shelter from the scorching heat, and set in what seems to be the heart of a botanical garden that you get to visit with no admission fee. Even in October it seemed to be in full bloom - the bougainvillea, the water lilies and so many other trees, along with the rainbows in the water fountains made it all look like a festival of colors. It was still close to 100 degrees out there, even early in the morning.
The Embracing Peace statue in San Diego, CA
On our last day in San Diego, we walked the wharf at Tuna Harbor Park to grab a mandatory picture of the Embracing Peace statue, we walked the trails of Sunset Cliffs Park and watched another stunning sunset over The Pacific Ocean, before we said goodbye to California over dinner at The Field Irish Pub in the Gaslamp District (do not ever drive yourself to this part of town. Get an Uber. You’ll be glad I told you!).
Sunset from Sunset Cliffs - San Diego, CA
And because our adventures don’t stop when we board the plane back, we hit an unexpected snag on our flight back to Raleigh: it was supposed to be a direct flight, but the plane could not be completely filled with fuel in San Diego (the airport was in short supply due to the woes of the time), and we had to first land in Kansas City, midway to The East Coast, to fill up for the remainder of the trip. Just like a car ... Now, this was definitely a first!
The San Diego airport was somewhat depressing. In addition to not having enough fuel available, it seemed old, dirty, reminding me of a third-world country during communism or something. The scanner at the gate was broken, so boarding passengers had to say their name and seat assignment to be able to be allowed to board. A step back in time.
I just realized I have not written a blog this long in a really long time. Maybe never. So, thank you if you made it this far. I had many sleepless nights before we actually embarked on it because I was not sure we could possibly pack this much adventure into one week without a snag. It left like a long trip, although it was only 9 days. I feel like I missed a week and a half of my life and slipped down a hole like Alice. And yet, I also feel like I gained another 50 years with everything I saw and learned.
The trip was so full of new images and ideas and wisdom and awareness - my eyeballs hurt from so much beauty and so much people-ness. If I am to miss my weeks - this is how I would want to spend them.
It was a thrill to hear foreign tourists - humbling that they still find us appealing. The ever-present ravens showing us the way. And each corner of the Earth with its uniqueness and quirks - all of this is so much more than I cannot even remember or capture in words and makes life a place to wonder and search, grow and slow down. There are few things I love more than all these ...
All parks, and truly all nature brings us closer to god, to what is pure and sacred and unmessed with. No AI, no mess of humanity, no visual and moral noise. The purity reminds us why they should stay sacred and untouched and that we, too, come from such sacredness. Our only job to be able to find it again is to turn down the noise ...
