Having been using the coin-operated public showers for a month, I have developed a routine for getting clean for a quarter. I shared the routine with our friends, Jennifer and Jerry, who have been camping with us. They offered some interesting possible enhancements to my routine.
Whenever possible, I opt for the northwest corner shower which has a good mixing valve but only two hooks for hanging things. I always take two quarters, in case the first quarter is rejected. I place the second quarter on a shelf along with a bar of soap. Next, I apply shampoo/conditioner to my dry head, lean into the shower, deposit the coin and await the stream of cold water on my head. Quickly, I lather up, rinse in the now properly mixed hot water and do not repeat. Next, remembering the orders of my Marine Corps drill instructor, I apply soap to all the required areas. A thorough 360 degree rinse follows. I then await for the abrupt cessation of the water.
Jennifer suggests I pre-position a bar of soap in an armpit, so as to not have to reach for it in the slippery shower. Jerry said to use a body wash, eliminating the shampoo/conditioner and bar of soap. Someone reminded me of soap on a rope. I think Jerry's simple solution makes the most sense and will be implemented in May, after exhausting my current supply of soap and shampoo. In the meantime, I will try Jennifer's suggestion.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
The Mysterious RV
The well used Tioga RV was buttoned up tight with reflective windshield sun screens all around. It was not supposed to be in campsite 104 according to the morning list. No sounds were coming from the RV, as were no smells. Absent a valid tag, I wrote a pink slip and placed it under a wiper blade reminding the owner to go to the kiosk to register and pay.
At noon rounds, the Tioga was still there as was the pink reminder. Still, no sounds or smells from the vehicle. It vaguely reminded me of the RV meth lab from Breaking Bad. Its continued presence was brought to the attention of the Rangers who left a citation under a wiper blade.
Since today's temperature is near 100, we hope there is no dead body within the RV. What is in the RV? Who owns it? When will the mystery be solved? Why do I care?
At noon rounds, the Tioga was still there as was the pink reminder. Still, no sounds or smells from the vehicle. It vaguely reminded me of the RV meth lab from Breaking Bad. Its continued presence was brought to the attention of the Rangers who left a citation under a wiper blade.
Since today's temperature is near 100, we hope there is no dead body within the RV. What is in the RV? Who owns it? When will the mystery be solved? Why do I care?
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Rain
The weather forecasters were spot on, many spots on. Rain started falling Friday evening at about 10:15 p.m., just as I was cautioning the campers in site 87 about their loud music. All along the beach, campers grabbed their kids, liquor and beer and headed for shelter. Campfires started sputtering and smoking.
With the rain, the wind increased. Soon a near gale was rearranging camping tents, chairs, screen rooms, canopies, anything not securely fastened. Then the rainfall increased. From within our trailer, I heard car engines starting, men yelling, kids laughing. It was now after midnight and sleep was a stranger. Just after 2:00 a.m., more car doors slamming, and someone yelled for Bill. We continued tossing and turning in our trailer, knowing that our outside possessions were secure.
At 5:45 a.m., we unplugged the EZGO cart and got the morning census paperwork. Fallen tree branches, some of them quite large, covered the pavement. A few occupied campsite were pools of water. Easy-up canopies were upside down lodged against vehicles and RV's. Campers were wandering the campground like zombies searching for their belongings. The piddly storm, by Oregon standards, was spent and so were we.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Earth Day Remembrance
Every afternoon on my scheduled days, I have been picking up litter on the beach. Outfitted with an industrial strength grasper and a white 30 gallon garbage bag, I comb the beach between the lifeguard towers. Usually, I find plastic bottles, plastic remnants, plastic bags, cigaret butts, dog shit, broken toys, broken flip flops, ketchup packets, beer cans and bottles, and the occasional dead creature.
On April 22, Earth Day, I was doing litter patrol when a little boy walked up to me and asked what I was doing. I told him I was picking up trash, trying to keep the beach clean. I let him use the grasper to pick up a large piece of expanded polystyrene and deposit it in the bag. I told him he had now done something good for the environment on Earth Day and I thanked him for doing so. He hung around for a while then disappeared as I meandered down the beach.
Today, a woman came to the campsite inquiring about firewood. As she was leaving, she said yesterday her 5 year old grandson returned from having used the trash grasper and said it was Earth Day. He told her he had learned about Earth Day at school. He asked whether they could pick up trash. He had a plastic beach toy, like salad tongs, and used it to collect some trash. The woman said he wanted to remove a dead pelican he had seen near The Boneyard, but she dissuaded him from going that far up the beach. She added that he is an inquisitive child of whom she is quite proud.
I thanked the woman for telling me about the boy. I told her that I had no idea that our brief encounter would result in stirring him to action on his first Earth Day at the beach. "Cool, very cool," I said.
On April 22, Earth Day, I was doing litter patrol when a little boy walked up to me and asked what I was doing. I told him I was picking up trash, trying to keep the beach clean. I let him use the grasper to pick up a large piece of expanded polystyrene and deposit it in the bag. I told him he had now done something good for the environment on Earth Day and I thanked him for doing so. He hung around for a while then disappeared as I meandered down the beach.
Today, a woman came to the campsite inquiring about firewood. As she was leaving, she said yesterday her 5 year old grandson returned from having used the trash grasper and said it was Earth Day. He told her he had learned about Earth Day at school. He asked whether they could pick up trash. He had a plastic beach toy, like salad tongs, and used it to collect some trash. The woman said he wanted to remove a dead pelican he had seen near The Boneyard, but she dissuaded him from going that far up the beach. She added that he is an inquisitive child of whom she is quite proud.
I thanked the woman for telling me about the boy. I told her that I had no idea that our brief encounter would result in stirring him to action on his first Earth Day at the beach. "Cool, very cool," I said.
Confession
If I were in the confessional with Father Guido Sarducci hearing my confession. Here's what I would say: Bless me Father for I have become a slacker, easily seduced by beach life. I brought my ukulele with me determined to practice when not intensively hosting. I have practiced three times so far, Afternoon naps or surf sessions preempt practice. I intended on going on day trips to cultural venues like the Mission at San Juan Capistrano or the Surfing Heritage Museum. Instead, naps, surf sessions and happy hours have preempted such excursions. I planned to meditate by the ocean but writing these blogs posts seems to have taken precedence. Living mostly outside consumed by wind, surf, tides and sun I am perfecting a life of slackadociousness. Is that a bad thing , Father?
Excuses Excuses Excuses
Campers at Doheny State Beach are subject to mostly common sense rules, such as no generators operating after 8:00 p.m., park at your assigned campsite, no dogs off leash and quiet time after 10:00 p.m. They are given the rules when they enter the park after paying the required fee. Each car is given a tag to be displayed from the windshield, indicating campsite assigned, date of expiration and the last three characters of the license plate.
Daily the camp hosts cruise the campground in an EZGO electric cart with knobby tires, checking for compliance with rules and issuing pink reminder citations when appropriate. Sometimes the camp host investigates complaints about noise or barking dogs or whatever. Because they are special, nearly every camper offers a reason or justification for their rule breaking.
"I thought generators were permitted from 8:00 a.m to 10 p.m., not 10:00 a.m to 8:00 p.m."
"We needed the generator to heat the baby's milk." "I need to finish watching this program."
"My dog only barks when provoked." "He's friendly and is good off leash."
"We didn't know the day use permit didn't allow us to park in the campground."
"I am only going to park here for ten minutes to unload grandma and her things."
"I couldn't fit my car in the camp site because it is too small for our RV and car."
"I am homeless and hide in the shower at night to be safe." (Ok, this is a true statement and an excuse.)
"Can you come back later to discuss this? I am busy right now."
Every special person has his or her rights. But few acknowledge their responsibilities.
Daily the camp hosts cruise the campground in an EZGO electric cart with knobby tires, checking for compliance with rules and issuing pink reminder citations when appropriate. Sometimes the camp host investigates complaints about noise or barking dogs or whatever. Because they are special, nearly every camper offers a reason or justification for their rule breaking.
"I thought generators were permitted from 8:00 a.m to 10 p.m., not 10:00 a.m to 8:00 p.m."
"We needed the generator to heat the baby's milk." "I need to finish watching this program."
"My dog only barks when provoked." "He's friendly and is good off leash."
"We didn't know the day use permit didn't allow us to park in the campground."
"I am only going to park here for ten minutes to unload grandma and her things."
"I couldn't fit my car in the camp site because it is too small for our RV and car."
"I am homeless and hide in the shower at night to be safe." (Ok, this is a true statement and an excuse.)
"Can you come back later to discuss this? I am busy right now."
Every special person has his or her rights. But few acknowledge their responsibilities.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Fired Up
It is the Kahlua laced second cup of coffee that prompts me to add another post to an already burdened and increasingly trivial internet. Oh well, I am a man of few words seduced by the ease of use of an iPad.
Here's to the children and their mother who found a dead baby sea lion on the beach. They started to bury it but thought it wise to consult the camp host who fortunately was wearing his vest. I thanked them for reporting their finding and told them to do nothing more. The lifeguard I contacted said he would check the carcass to determine whether researchers might be interested in it. Absent such interest, he said he would bury it in a suitable location.
This is probably the same carcass floating in the Doheny surf lineup yesterday. Certainly smells the same. That reminds me, I haven't showered since surfing this morning.
Pat and I enjoyed a fine pre-Easter meal provided by our fellow camp hosts, Pam and Gail. We ate outside under a canopy near a campfire. It was a nice social evening with Pam and Gail, their sons and daughter-in-law.
We are grateful to our friends, Patti and Stan, for turning us on to this gig.
Lastly, we are also pleased to learn that our dear friends, Russ and Bev, will become grandparents during the 2014 football season. A duckling for Matt and Mandy.
Here's to the children and their mother who found a dead baby sea lion on the beach. They started to bury it but thought it wise to consult the camp host who fortunately was wearing his vest. I thanked them for reporting their finding and told them to do nothing more. The lifeguard I contacted said he would check the carcass to determine whether researchers might be interested in it. Absent such interest, he said he would bury it in a suitable location.
This is probably the same carcass floating in the Doheny surf lineup yesterday. Certainly smells the same. That reminds me, I haven't showered since surfing this morning.
Pat and I enjoyed a fine pre-Easter meal provided by our fellow camp hosts, Pam and Gail. We ate outside under a canopy near a campfire. It was a nice social evening with Pam and Gail, their sons and daughter-in-law.
We are grateful to our friends, Patti and Stan, for turning us on to this gig.
Lastly, we are also pleased to learn that our dear friends, Russ and Bev, will become grandparents during the 2014 football season. A duckling for Matt and Mandy.
Invested
This is not about buying into the program or stock market. This is about the made in China vest issued to us. When we need to be taken seriously or officially, we don the garment and become invested.
The vest has 20 compartments either zippered, velcroed, snapped or not. There may be more compartments, but 20 are all I have discovered and more than enough for me and my LED headband, cell phone, pens, cart keys, other keys, hand sanitizer, napkins in lieu of Kleenex, campground rules, pink reminder citations and found objects. If I receive a phone call when wearing the vest, it is often a struggle to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. Without the vest, I am just some guy in a Rip Curl bush hat with all the gravitas of The Dude.
Maybe I should just wear the official polo shirt donated to me by Gail, the other male camp host, and a great guy.
The vest has 20 compartments either zippered, velcroed, snapped or not. There may be more compartments, but 20 are all I have discovered and more than enough for me and my LED headband, cell phone, pens, cart keys, other keys, hand sanitizer, napkins in lieu of Kleenex, campground rules, pink reminder citations and found objects. If I receive a phone call when wearing the vest, it is often a struggle to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. Without the vest, I am just some guy in a Rip Curl bush hat with all the gravitas of The Dude.
Maybe I should just wear the official polo shirt donated to me by Gail, the other male camp host, and a great guy.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Random Images
From my deluxe camp chair with folding wings for a cooler and beer holder, I can see Lifeguard station 9. It is a typical SoCal lifeguard structure. Tall enough for a good view of the beach with an overhanging roof to provide shade and sturdy aluminum railing. When occupied by a lifeguard, the hurricane shutters are raised and the tinted glass windows are exposed. The reflectivity of the window makes it similar to an electronic picture frame. The image displayed in the window is of a wave breaking on the beach. The larger the wave, the more volume of the sound of it breaking on the sand and cobblestones. Occasionally a bird will fly by the window, but mostly breaking surf entertains me.
A camper unfamiliar with starting a fire can almost always be detected by the smell and smoke of something plastic being used to help ignite a chunk of wood. Kindling is often a 12 pack cardboard beer box. I have seen damaged flip flops, sunscreen tubes, Starbucks cup covers and Gatorade containers used as fire enhancers. The aroma of such a campfire reminds me of my first visit to Sayulita, Mexico, where trash fires were the norm.
Many campers are inspired to decorate their sites with cutesy signs, banners, lights, plastic animals, flowers or gnomes. Some sites look like a scene from Sanford and Son without Redd Fox in view. Some of the motifs of current camp sites include Easter bunnies, patriotic slogans, biblical aphorisms and family crests or coats of arms. My favorite site is the one where an Oregon Duck windsock flies. Our site. Go Ducks.
A camper unfamiliar with starting a fire can almost always be detected by the smell and smoke of something plastic being used to help ignite a chunk of wood. Kindling is often a 12 pack cardboard beer box. I have seen damaged flip flops, sunscreen tubes, Starbucks cup covers and Gatorade containers used as fire enhancers. The aroma of such a campfire reminds me of my first visit to Sayulita, Mexico, where trash fires were the norm.
Many campers are inspired to decorate their sites with cutesy signs, banners, lights, plastic animals, flowers or gnomes. Some sites look like a scene from Sanford and Son without Redd Fox in view. Some of the motifs of current camp sites include Easter bunnies, patriotic slogans, biblical aphorisms and family crests or coats of arms. My favorite site is the one where an Oregon Duck windsock flies. Our site. Go Ducks.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
The Camp Host is a Scavenger
I admit it. As the campground empties daily, I seek out the forgotten or orphaned wood. This morning after surfing while walking back to my camp site, I spied a stash of wood under a bush at site 73 which was vacant. Using my towel, I loaded as much as I could carry. Had to make two more trips. We now have a growing wood pile.
Aside from leftover wood, we have been given gallons of water and a Beck CD, Morning Phase, or something like it. I have spent no time with Beck but will now thanks to a friendly youth baseball coach from Nevada who heard me playing Van Morrison the other day and thought I would enjoy Beck.
I ardently wish someone would leave me an unopened bottle of Jameson Irish whiskey or a six pack of Victoria beer.
Aside from leftover wood, we have been given gallons of water and a Beck CD, Morning Phase, or something like it. I have spent no time with Beck but will now thanks to a friendly youth baseball coach from Nevada who heard me playing Van Morrison the other day and thought I would enjoy Beck.
I ardently wish someone would leave me an unopened bottle of Jameson Irish whiskey or a six pack of Victoria beer.
Friday, April 18, 2014
A Day To Remember
Wanting to get in a surf before the late afternoon paddle out memorial for Hobie Alter here at Doheny State Beach, I finished the noon census and suited up. Set waves on a lowering tide provided some nice right slides. My Andreini Glider cut through the slight chop for some long rides in 60 degree water.
Upon returning to our campsite, I found a crying child in the arms of a woman who had discovered him at water's edge with a red face, loaded diaper and crying for mama. Pat had notified Ranger Red who arrived quickly. With years of experience, he turned on his vehicle's external loudspeaker and announced to the campground that a lost little boy could be retrieved at camp host site 96. Shortly after the announcement, a frantic woman arrived from the beach. She grabbed the kid and indicated he escaped from his nap. Ranger Red announced that the lost mother had been found and reunited with her child. A number of campers clapped as the reunion unfolded.
With 3000 persons expected for the paddle out, Pat and I were asked to do traffic control at the entrance of the campground. So, we parked the EZGO blocking one lane of ingress, and deployed a no day use parking sandwich board sign. Dressed in our official vests and polo shirts, Pat encouraged drivers to observe the 15 mph speed limit and proceed to the south overflow lot. I gestured just like the traffic cop I should have been. If only I had a whistle.
We each managed to sneak a peak at the ceremony. It was moving. Many boats and boards in the water with a large crowd on the beach. I imagine those who arrived late and had to park in the overflow lot were cursing having to carry their boards and kayaks such a long distance. We took many photos but probably didn't do justice to the event. Hoist a glass to Hobie, a pioneering figure in the surf and boating industry, and a Southern California legend.
Upon returning to our campsite, I found a crying child in the arms of a woman who had discovered him at water's edge with a red face, loaded diaper and crying for mama. Pat had notified Ranger Red who arrived quickly. With years of experience, he turned on his vehicle's external loudspeaker and announced to the campground that a lost little boy could be retrieved at camp host site 96. Shortly after the announcement, a frantic woman arrived from the beach. She grabbed the kid and indicated he escaped from his nap. Ranger Red announced that the lost mother had been found and reunited with her child. A number of campers clapped as the reunion unfolded.
With 3000 persons expected for the paddle out, Pat and I were asked to do traffic control at the entrance of the campground. So, we parked the EZGO blocking one lane of ingress, and deployed a no day use parking sandwich board sign. Dressed in our official vests and polo shirts, Pat encouraged drivers to observe the 15 mph speed limit and proceed to the south overflow lot. I gestured just like the traffic cop I should have been. If only I had a whistle.
We each managed to sneak a peak at the ceremony. It was moving. Many boats and boards in the water with a large crowd on the beach. I imagine those who arrived late and had to park in the overflow lot were cursing having to carry their boards and kayaks such a long distance. We took many photos but probably didn't do justice to the event. Hoist a glass to Hobie, a pioneering figure in the surf and boating industry, and a Southern California legend.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
George Carlin Stuff
Remember Carlin's old routine about people and their stuff. I am reminded of that routine when I see all the stuff campers bring with them. Yes, I brought stuff with me but not as much as can fit into a toy hauler. I didn't bring drying racks, wood pellet barbecues, sofas and recliners, 55" HD televisions, for example.
When I saw the big screen TV set outside, powered by a heat pump sized generator, playing a movie for twelve campers, I thought of George. I also thought of George when I saw the two obese campers sitting in their matching recliners. The enticing odor of meat being grilled on a wood pellet fired barbecue made me think of George.
I often think of George Carlin, having worked as a sound crew member on a television program, Operation Entertainment, on which he appeared in the late 1960's. He was thin with a rapid-fire delivery and so damned funny. When I see campers and their multiple dogs, I cannot help but think of George's line about pet ownership ending badly. I miss George.
When I saw the big screen TV set outside, powered by a heat pump sized generator, playing a movie for twelve campers, I thought of George. I also thought of George when I saw the two obese campers sitting in their matching recliners. The enticing odor of meat being grilled on a wood pellet fired barbecue made me think of George.
I often think of George Carlin, having worked as a sound crew member on a television program, Operation Entertainment, on which he appeared in the late 1960's. He was thin with a rapid-fire delivery and so damned funny. When I see campers and their multiple dogs, I cannot help but think of George's line about pet ownership ending badly. I miss George.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Lunatics
You heard me. Lunatics. I and my fellow campers were lunatics last night. We awakened during the night to see the event only to find that high fog blurred the moon. The revelers in campsite 91 twice had to be cautioned, first by Pat and then by me, to cheer down as their beer fueled conversation grew louder from 1030 p.m. to midnight. All we got last night was sleep deprivation.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Lunar Eclipse Tonight
At about 12:07 a.m. tonight or Tuesday to be exact, a total eclipse of the moon is supposed to be visible. Since Pat and I rode our bikes to San Clemente and back today, I will need to set my watch to wake us for the event.
The ride to San Clemente with the wind at our back was great. We made it to the State Park then went to the pier. The wind from the west ratcheted up but did not dissuade spring break sunbathers from exposing themselves in the warm sand. Since the eye cannot trespass, I carefully examined the scenery.
The ride back to Dana Point against the wind was tedious. Traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway was thick and fast. Trains roared by the bike lane and the sun was unrelenting. Still, living life outside on the southern California coast is splendid and seductive. I hope the eclipse will be as spectacular as today.
The ride to San Clemente with the wind at our back was great. We made it to the State Park then went to the pier. The wind from the west ratcheted up but did not dissuade spring break sunbathers from exposing themselves in the warm sand. Since the eye cannot trespass, I carefully examined the scenery.
The ride back to Dana Point against the wind was tedious. Traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway was thick and fast. Trains roared by the bike lane and the sun was unrelenting. Still, living life outside on the southern California coast is splendid and seductive. I hope the eclipse will be as spectacular as today.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Sunday Musings
As I sit outside in the shade looking out at the sparkling ocean, smelling the smoke of fading campfires, listening to the passing conversations of campers and the steady drone of portable generators, I see my reflection in my iPad screen on which I am typing. The guy I see has become The Camp Host: an answer man, agent of the park police, litter patroller, affable old guy and seller of avocado firewood.
The avocado firewood story is one of sadness, at least from the point of view of the growers who are cutting down trees due to lack of available water. The guy who delivers the firewood tells of growers whose primary cash crop is the wood of trees which should be bearing the delicious green fruit loved by so many. A camper burning the wood has no idea he is enjoying a fire which is a precursor of higher avocado prices. The camper probably does not know that Mexican organized crime gangs are hijacking truckloads of avocados being sent to export terminals. Evidently, avocados have become an increasing valuable commodity given the California drought.
The firewood in my fire pit was scavenged from a vacated campsite. It is not avocado wood. I wonder what its story is?
The avocado firewood story is one of sadness, at least from the point of view of the growers who are cutting down trees due to lack of available water. The guy who delivers the firewood tells of growers whose primary cash crop is the wood of trees which should be bearing the delicious green fruit loved by so many. A camper burning the wood has no idea he is enjoying a fire which is a precursor of higher avocado prices. The camper probably does not know that Mexican organized crime gangs are hijacking truckloads of avocados being sent to export terminals. Evidently, avocados have become an increasing valuable commodity given the California drought.
The firewood in my fire pit was scavenged from a vacated campsite. It is not avocado wood. I wonder what its story is?
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Woody Festival
Over 200 woodies rumbled down the frontage road to the south day use lot for an all day event. The wagons ranged from gorgeous to works-in-progress. Most of the drivers looked as old as their vehicle. Some of the woodies had vintage boards on top or hanging out the back. I was miffed by the guy carrying a twin fin on top. Twin fin! Since when is a twin fin a vintage board. My friend, Russ, who is a vintage car collector, would dig the chrome, wood and diamond tuck and roll. Hats off to the guy sporting this license plate on his woodie: VIIAGRA.
During morning census, it was apparent on the pavement that some campers enjoyed too much grog last night. A group of about 40 celebrated a reunion last night and unlike last year, no one from the party was arrested.
Going to buy some blues festival tickets today, since we don't have to work on May 18 and were unable to wangle a volunteer assignment. Our friends Art and Pat will be here from eastern Oregon to get down and be funky at the festival. I have a bottle of Presidente awaiting them.
Life on the beach is good. Gotta go.
During morning census, it was apparent on the pavement that some campers enjoyed too much grog last night. A group of about 40 celebrated a reunion last night and unlike last year, no one from the party was arrested.
Going to buy some blues festival tickets today, since we don't have to work on May 18 and were unable to wangle a volunteer assignment. Our friends Art and Pat will be here from eastern Oregon to get down and be funky at the festival. I have a bottle of Presidente awaiting them.
Life on the beach is good. Gotta go.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Getting It Done
We have adapted to life in a small space. Even the many trains passing within 30 yards no longer are annoying. Night sounds are identifiable. Hot 2.5 minute showers for 25 cents do the job. Routine has been established and we are comfortable.
Campers come and go. The most interesting RV's are here one day and gone the next. The RVs driven by those who live permanently in them stream into the park day use areas daily at 6 a.m. They have yearly day use passes allowing them to be present from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. Where they park at night is unknown.
The weather has been great these last few days. Mornings and evenings are cool. Daytimes are warm. Typical SoCal marine climate prevails. We are seduced by the sun, the flowering plants, the varying colors of the warming ocean. Dolphins patrol the Bight of Capistrano, as this section of the coast is officially known. These rhythms prompt me to remember what life was like when Pat and I lived in Seal Beach many years ago. She worked in a bank and I cleaned and painted boat bottoms at a small shipyard in the Long Beach Marina.
Last night, we watched a program concerning San Diego history. It features a guy named Ken Kramer who does a fine job of finding interesting subjects and explaining their importance. Since I lived in San Diego from 1956 through 1960, I found the program, About San Diego, brought back many memories. One segment was especially compelling. It was about a KCBQ disc jockey named Happy Hare. I had not thought nor heard of Happy Hare in many, many years. But, he was an important part of my life when I received my first radio as a kid. I listened to KCBQ whenever I was in my room at our houses on Point Loma. The station's DJ's introduced me to the world of pop and rock and roll music. I can remember being awakened by music and leaving home to walk to school with the last song I heard playing in my head.
Campers come and go. The most interesting RV's are here one day and gone the next. The RVs driven by those who live permanently in them stream into the park day use areas daily at 6 a.m. They have yearly day use passes allowing them to be present from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. Where they park at night is unknown.
The weather has been great these last few days. Mornings and evenings are cool. Daytimes are warm. Typical SoCal marine climate prevails. We are seduced by the sun, the flowering plants, the varying colors of the warming ocean. Dolphins patrol the Bight of Capistrano, as this section of the coast is officially known. These rhythms prompt me to remember what life was like when Pat and I lived in Seal Beach many years ago. She worked in a bank and I cleaned and painted boat bottoms at a small shipyard in the Long Beach Marina.
Last night, we watched a program concerning San Diego history. It features a guy named Ken Kramer who does a fine job of finding interesting subjects and explaining their importance. Since I lived in San Diego from 1956 through 1960, I found the program, About San Diego, brought back many memories. One segment was especially compelling. It was about a KCBQ disc jockey named Happy Hare. I had not thought nor heard of Happy Hare in many, many years. But, he was an important part of my life when I received my first radio as a kid. I listened to KCBQ whenever I was in my room at our houses on Point Loma. The station's DJ's introduced me to the world of pop and rock and roll music. I can remember being awakened by music and leaving home to walk to school with the last song I heard playing in my head.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Of Late
Having now completed our first two days as solo hosts, we are convinced we earn our keep. Being responsive to campers all day, obtaining and selling firewood, telling folks to shut down their noisy generators, and doing the twice daily site checks fill the day. I would be remiss to mention that there is considerable downtime and opportunity for naps, exercise and ocean recreation.
Living outside most of the day makes for deep sleep at night. I especially enjoy the 25 cent, 2.5 minute hot shower in the evening and walking back to the trailer through the barbecue and campfire smoke. Feeling a little feral here, and liking it. Wearing one's cleanest dirty clothing is easy.
I have met a number of interesting characters in the campground. One elderly surfer living in his VW camper van told me that he can no longer surf having undergone transplants on each knee, one of which became infected and still pains him. He now stand up paddles a very long paddleboard, since he cannot kneel. The guy simply steps onto his board at a sandy beach, waits for waves to float him, then paddles like hell.
Another guy, JR, claims to know former host Jerry D. He said he interviewed Jerry at a local Starbucks for his YouTube channel. JR said he lives in his van and is trying to eke out a living on the internet.
Many people have commented about the Oregon Ducks wind sock prominently
displayed at our campsite. Evidently, campers wearing UCLA Bruin hats do not speak well of the Ducks. It doesn't appear USC supporters visit the campground and display their allegiance.
displayed at our campsite. Evidently, campers wearing UCLA Bruin hats do not speak well of the Ducks. It doesn't appear USC supporters visit the campground and display their allegiance.
Got to surf SanO yesterday. Planning on paddling the sup today. Pat bought a 10' sup. We paddled throughout the Dana Point Marina in windy but sunny weather. Then, I surfed small Doheny waves. Hope I don't get sick. Wasn't worth the risk.
I called my beloved Aunt Mary on the occasion of her 84th birthday.
I called my beloved Aunt Mary on the occasion of her 84th birthday.
Time to brush my teeth. Don't want to get to feral.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Final Destination
Late in the afternoon of March 31, we arrived at Doheny State Beach in Dana Point, CA, our home for the next two months. We were temporarily assigned to site 122 in order for the hosts in site 96 to vacate on April 1. The wind was strong from the north with lowering clouds but 64 degrees.
Pam and Gail, the hosts who are staying through May, welcomed us. They schooled us in the duties of a host. I shadowed Gail as he made his evening generator check. That night rain fell heavily, filling the San Juan Creek to near the top of the berm separating it from the ocean. The Creek is a toxic pool of upstream who-knows-what and local bird excrement. When it breaches the berm, the near shore waters are polluted for days and water contact is NOT recommended.
At 0615 hrs on April 2, I accompanied Gail as he did the campground census. It was cold and damp. Campers complained about the standing water in a few campsites. I thought, but did not say, that the camper should arrange the campsite to accommodate the weather especially predicted rainfall. We met our supervisor who gave us an orientation tour of the entire park. We completed all the required paperwork and were assigned keys, vests and firewood sales materials.
As we were returning to our site, I noticed that the berm had been breached, some said by kids with shovels, others said the Creek just overtopped the berm. Anyway, that breach ruined the chance of surfing what appeared to be a nice chest high swell at the right tide.
As soon as I figure out how to do it, I'll be posting photos. BTW, Stan and Patti, Vicki send her best. Every official we have met have asked about you.
Pam and Gail, the hosts who are staying through May, welcomed us. They schooled us in the duties of a host. I shadowed Gail as he made his evening generator check. That night rain fell heavily, filling the San Juan Creek to near the top of the berm separating it from the ocean. The Creek is a toxic pool of upstream who-knows-what and local bird excrement. When it breaches the berm, the near shore waters are polluted for days and water contact is NOT recommended.
At 0615 hrs on April 2, I accompanied Gail as he did the campground census. It was cold and damp. Campers complained about the standing water in a few campsites. I thought, but did not say, that the camper should arrange the campsite to accommodate the weather especially predicted rainfall. We met our supervisor who gave us an orientation tour of the entire park. We completed all the required paperwork and were assigned keys, vests and firewood sales materials.
As we were returning to our site, I noticed that the berm had been breached, some said by kids with shovels, others said the Creek just overtopped the berm. Anyway, that breach ruined the chance of surfing what appeared to be a nice chest high swell at the right tide.
As soon as I figure out how to do it, I'll be posting photos. BTW, Stan and Patti, Vicki send her best. Every official we have met have asked about you.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Santa Barbara
Pat, Craig and I went to the free Carl Jung art exhibit at the Pacifica Institute in Montecito. I didn't know that Jung was an artist. After seeing his work, there is no doubt that he had talent. Mandalas and psychedelic realism with Hindu and Buddhist symbols coupled with archetypes can inflame one's senses.
Pat and I went to the Chumash Painted Cave in the Santa Ynez mountains. The trip up the San Marcos pass with the Santa Barbara Channel Islands in the background was beautiful. The narrow and winding road to the cave was populated by demented drivers, bent on going to fast for conditions. The cave was worth the trip. Nicely colored artwork, with a protective iron grate, in a shallow cave with easy access prompted Pat to take many photos.
During our stay I surfed Devereux three times, twice with Craig. The first time was the best as the swell was chest high. The other two days were wind swell with no oomph. I noticed my 11' Andreini Glider had blotches of oil, presumably from the 1969 oil spill and ongoing oil extraction. The water was too cold for my 3/2 wetsuit. I ended two sessions shivering. Stupid me for not getting a 4/3 and 3 mil booties with gloves.
We left El Capitan on March 31 for our final destination.
Pat and I went to the Chumash Painted Cave in the Santa Ynez mountains. The trip up the San Marcos pass with the Santa Barbara Channel Islands in the background was beautiful. The narrow and winding road to the cave was populated by demented drivers, bent on going to fast for conditions. The cave was worth the trip. Nicely colored artwork, with a protective iron grate, in a shallow cave with easy access prompted Pat to take many photos.
During our stay I surfed Devereux three times, twice with Craig. The first time was the best as the swell was chest high. The other two days were wind swell with no oomph. I noticed my 11' Andreini Glider had blotches of oil, presumably from the 1969 oil spill and ongoing oil extraction. The water was too cold for my 3/2 wetsuit. I ended two sessions shivering. Stupid me for not getting a 4/3 and 3 mil booties with gloves.
We left El Capitan on March 31 for our final destination.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)