Recently I read a story, in High Country News, about a campground in Colorado that was overrun by gun "enthusiasts".  It sounded pretty bad and reminded me of a trip I took to Mojave a year or so ago. 

I was camped in the site you see above at Hole-in-the-Wall campground. It was quiet and calm and fairly private. One late afternoon, while entering the trailer, I grabbed a small exterior  handle to hoist myself inside and didn't see that a bee had decided to latch on to the back of handle.  I felt a burning sensation and then - DAMMIT! I'd been stung.  I saw the poor dying bee, sticking to the side of my hand, but felt little sympathy for the SOB.  I went to the first aid kit and got the tweezers, pulled the stinger out of the side of my hand but it immediately started swelling.  I took three aspirin, ate a pain filled dinner and iced up my hand. 

At about 8:30 that night I decided I'd better turn in but, wimp that I am, my hand was hurting and continuing to swell and I couldn't fall asleep.  I read and listened to the radio and finally, I'm guessing around 11:00 fell asleep.

At around midnight I awoke to a light, bright as day, shining in my trailer.  I then heard the gunning of engines and went to open the door and my campsite was bathed in light from some jerk's spotlight that he had mounted on his Jeep.  I was pissed.  I decided to get dressed and have a word with my new neighbor.  As I was getting my pants on I heard several more vehicles drive around the campground and started to get a little nervous.  Still, I was mad and with adrenaline kicking in decided to confront these morons.  

Charging out of my trailer I heard the "Pop-pop-pop" of gunfire.  I stopped.  Directly across from my campsite there were four or five men armed with rifles and shooting at something in the vast darkness. 

​OK - new plan.

I high-tailed it back to the trailer and locked the door (which I never do) and looked for my bear spray and machete.  Yeah, that's me...I bring bear spray and jungle clearing implements to a gunfight.

The gunfire, now sporadic and accompanied by loud, drunken shouting continued for probably 20 minutes. I decided, at that very instant, to become a pacifist and not confront these "people". I tried to go back to sleep and the throbbing in my hand really kicked in (from the adrenaline kick I'd guess).  I had the persistent  thought that I might have to go to the emergency room, an hour away in Needles, if the swelling continued.  After awhile the gunfire stopped completely although my campsite was still lit up like Fifth Avenue and 45th street.  Around 3:30 or 4:00 AM, I eventually fell asleep. 

I woke up the next morning to the racing of engines and more loud voices.  I looked out the window and there were probably 6 or 7 Jeeps and maybe a dozen guys  packing them up.  I made coffee, fretted a bit about my hand, and stepped out into the sunlight.  I heard these guys talking and discussing their plans for the day.  They were talking about a route on the old Mojave Road.  As they got ready to leave one guy, with a minor conscience, I suppose, walked over and said, "I'd tell ya I was sorry about the noise last night but we're all retired cops and we don't apologize- hahaha".  I didn't say a word.  I did give him a bad ass glare, however. 

They were gone within 30 minutes.  I jumped into my truck and drove to the nearest Ranger Station to report these community pillars. 

It was closed and locked. 

​My hand got better. 

America, 2016. 

It's time for the beach. Each year, at least once, I head north up the coast.  Last year I foolishly went in June and was socked in with the marine layer for almost 10 days.  This year I had none of the "May Gray" and it was sunny and warm and, well, damn near perfect.

The trip started out at good old Point Mugu and Thornhill Broome Beach which lies between Malibu and Oxnard.  As a young man I lived in Ventura and attended UCSB but would work for my Dad in his typesetting shop in Los Alamitos on the weekends.  I didn't enjoy taking the 101 to the 405 so I took the longer, more leisurely and exceptionally scenic route through to Malibu.  That route went directly by Point Mugu.  I'd look down at the people camping literally on the sand and think, "Man, that's the life - one day when I don't have to work 7 days a week I'm gonna camp there." I made good on that promise to myself. I counted and I may have missed a trip or two but I believe this was my tenth trip.  

Even if you haven't been you to Point Mugu you've seen it.  It's featured on about half the car commercials these days. I adore the area.  On my first night my Brazilian musician and poet friend Mauro came to visit and we made a fire and and barbecued tri-tip.  We chatted and listened to music well into the night...

The last photo is kind of random but across from my campsite was a padlock in the fence separating the highway from the campground. I was fascinated by it - how long had it been there?  Why had someone locked it and left it? It's a dang oddity.  Love those...

One of my photography influences is Dennis Stock.  Back in the '60's he took what I consider to be the best shot perhaps ever made of the Southern California beach scene near San Diego. There are a few spots on PCH I consider quintessential California but, alas, they're changing as development and other changes impact the landscape and the road.  Nevertheless, I did go looking for a few spots to make photos and was nearly hit by a small and swerving grocery truck.  You have to sacrifice for art, right? I like these photos anyway. 

The following photos are just up the road a bit from the campground and I've spent many an hour in that very spot.  I always say, "It feels a million miles away from LA". 

After 4 days at Point Mugu I drove North to my old standby Gaviota.  While there I went looking for some railroad photos and visited the first place I ever taught - De Anza Junior High School in Ventura as a long term substitute in Autumn of 1981. I also went to visit an old house - the house we were living in when my wonderful son, Jordan was born in April 1983. I enjoyed it.  I often wish I could transport myself back to that time - knowing what I know now - I'd do many things differently.  Regrets? I have a few...

The hills around Gaviota were lush and covered in mustard. 

The coast in Santa Barbara county is much different than the coast I grew up with in Southern California.  Shale dominates here.  

A train trestle runs across Gaviota and invites you to explore. So I followed the tracks north...

Here are some additional photos of my time at Gaviota.  I'll be back in August.  I can't seem to get enough of the place.  

I scheduled a Morro Bay State Park trip for last Fall but it was canceled by them after a freak storm brought down several trees in the campground. I love Morro Bay - have ever since I was about 12 and my grandmother brought me here to meet her old bachelor cousin who had lived here for 30 some odd years.  He was a poor, salty old  fisherman who lived in a small apartment about a block from the bay.  I never forgot him.  A bad ass, independent, crotchety, profane "pescadero viejo". My kind of guy. 

Normally, when I've visited the last several years it has only been for a few days and I haven't really explored the nearby wetlands or Elfin Forest which are close to the south end of town,  I made up for that omission on this trip. 

I was, finally able to visit the Elfin Forest which is near Los Osos, CA and just across the National Morro Bay Estuary from the campground.  I left for my hike about 2:00 in the afternoon and it was cloudy - by the time I hit the trail the sun had emerged and the light was not great for photography.  Of course, that didn't stop me from taking photos and I decided, then and there, that I had to come back in the Fall since this was such an extraordinary place.  

I hope, through these photos, you get some idea about how splendid Morro Bay is and that you will, if you find yourself on the California central coast (and you should find yourself there) , check it out.  Wait until you see how you feel there. 

I hope you enjoyed looking at these photos as much as I enjoyed taking them.  Next stop is the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.  See ya on the road...