This was not actually a blog entry but an email to my girlfriend Leslie. It was only meant to be a quick description of my day but it took on a life of its own and after reading it I thought it would make an appropriate entry for my blog. I hope you enjoy the journey...on with the show!
I apologize for not being able to respond to your email yesterday as I was on the road all day doing a classic Los Angeles road trip with Jon. It's the kind of experience one can only get in LA. It's one of the few things I miss about LA, being able to get in a car and take an all day odyssey and explore the different worlds that make up Southern California.
We started out in Venice of course, the beautiful California coast, and drove north on the 405 through the sprawling San Fernando valley to the 5 which connected us to the 14 (Antelope Valley Frwy) which took us to the high desert. We we pulled off the highway in a small podunk town called Little Rock and pulled off the road into the open space of the desert with its chaparral flora and somber desolation finding a parking spot on a dirt road amidst what seemed to be thousands of snake holes leading into some unknown place in the earth. Like we have done many times in the past Jon and I just walked around, he taking pictures and me taking videos (and pictures with my new phone). Joshua trees stood silent and lonely all around us and on the horizon were the mountain ranges of the Angeles National Forest topped with fresh snow. On the ground we found various human artifacts left for dead like old mattresses, burned wood, rusted tin cans, beaten up and broken toys, and a huge pile of religious cassette tapes. The most interesting find was a set of bleached white bones. I first spotted an almost intact set of vertebrae which I thought could be human (shuddered at the thought) but a short distance away my eyes set on a tooth filled jawbone that looked like it belonged to a deer like animal. All around us were these towering, straw-man like energy towers with cables stretching from one direction to the other as far as we could see. The buzz of the electricity from the wires overhead and the stoic breeze of the desert made for an interesting soundtrack to our Homeresque odyssey. All the elements of man and nature combined made for an eerily beautiful landscape.
The air was chill so after our hands became numb we climbed back in the car and drove the lonely open highway to Devil's Punchbowl, a state park built around an ancient rock formation. If you ever want to see the majesty and power of the San Andreas fault the DP is the place to do it. Huge, flat, smooth, slabs of rock vertically explode from the earth's surface as a result of millions of years of fault activity. We tend to forget the power of the earth that birthed us and will one day swallow us up again, but a place like this brings feelings of humility and acknowledgement of the uberness this planet possesses. After getting our fill of wonder and amazement we hopped in the car and hit the road again aiming straight for the mountains which stood like a Great Wall separating us from the LA basin. We traveled on Fort Tejon Rd which took us through the microscopic town of Valyermo which had an old post office that looked right out of an 1870's western movie. I half expected Clint Eastwood to coming riding up on his horse wearing his pancho, squinting quietly and munching on a stub of an old cigar. After a few photos we proceeded on our journey by way of the Big Pines Highway that took us into the Angeles National Forest. In the shade of the mountain ranges we were treated to volumes of pine trees and snow on both sides of the highway. On the way we passed by a frozen pond and on occasion would see a large family of hispanic people frolicking in the snow. Memories of old swept into my mind when we passed Mountain High ski resort with its snow making machines going full blast and the handful of skiers getting what they could from the one lift that was operating. Many of my first ski adventures happened here decades ago. We also passed through the small moutain town of Wrightwood, another teeny place for Los Angeleans to get there ski on. There were times at Wrightwood where me and my friends would be the only people on the mountain giving us the feeling that it was our own personal ski resort. The lift operators would often blast the sounds of Bob Marley and always sported big grins which I am sure was due to on-the-job herbal remedies.
From Wrightwood we proceeded on Lone Pine Canyon Road which took us to the 15 (Mojave Frwy), back to semi-civilization. The land was still open but we were at the edge of the desert/mountains and heading straight for the outer crust of the sprawling LA suburbanry. These are the odd parts of California that bridge the magnificent wilderness and the endless litany of residential communities with their planet sized shopping malls and freeways teeming with commuters and big rigs. It was late in the day as we drove westward directly into the sun. We were still far enough away from LA proper to be in non hazed air and we enjoyed the clear views of the mountain ranges to the north and the not-so-dense-flatlands to the south. With each passing mile the communities and retail shops on the side of the freeway became more dominant. Again we passed landmarks that stirred my memories like Glen Helen Park, the site of one of the best but forgotten musical events, the US Festival. We also passed by the University of Redlands, a school I was set to attend my sophomore year to play basketball after flaming out at UCLA but I withdrew a week before classes began, a decision I sometimes regret to this day. Once we joined the artery of the 210 Frwy we were leaving the San Bernadino area and entering in to what most locals consider the LA basin proper. The communities of Rancho Cucamunga and Pomona was about as far out as you could get and still claim to be from "LA". Soon, on the distant horizon, like the Emerald City of Oz, we could make out the skyline of downtown Los Angeles silhouetted against the reddish orange Southern California sunset. Even at this distance we could make out the clear shape of what I call the Nakatomi building (blown to smithereens in the original Die Hard movie), as iconic to the LA skyline as our very own Transamerica pyramid is to us San Franciscans. From the 210 we shifted to the 10 freeway that would take us straight to downtown LA. Palm trees lined the freeway as we cruised the southern end of the San Gabriel Valley, through the spanish surnamed cities of West Covina, El Monte, and Monterey Park, the irony being these enclaves have been populated mostly by Chinese people going back to the late 70's. I recall back in the 80's legislation aggressively pushed by Regan Republicans to have English as an official language and English only retail signs specifically aimed at these cities that were dominated by Cantonese speech and endless store signs in Chinese characters. LA being the melting pot it is always soundly voted down these race fearing attempts at complete anglicization of the southland.
The LA skyline loomed large in our faces as we hit East LA and the many freeway junctions that spread like tree roots to all parts of LA and of course this crisscrossing of travel routes brought crunch-to-standstill traffic conditions so Jon, who's knowledge of the secret routes of LA is unparalleled, pulled off the freeway somewhere near the 4th street bridge so I could get a clear photo of the Los Angeles cityscape skyline. Being a photojournalist in LA for nearly 30 years, Jon knows every nuance of LA traffic and all the good spots to get the best photos of LA. We pulled off and parked in a area full of factories, auto shops, and the occasional strip joint as this was the seedier part of LA you rarely see in movies (check out William Friedkin's "To Live and Die in LA"). We parked adjacent to the commercial train tracks that run through LA and admired the graffiti that completely covered the intert train engines. After getting some photos we crossed one of those small bridges that crossover the cemented Los Angeles River seen in every movie or tv show with a chase scene through LA. The sun had gone down and the neon lights and denizens of downtown were the eye candy of our trip now and after being away from LA for 20 years it appeared to me that it was actuallly beginning to look and feel like the movie Bladerunner. The skid row streets of the garment district gave way to the ritzier shops and restaurants the closer we came to the ancient Harbor Frwy that cuts through the heart of the downtown high rises. Jon expertly navigated us to the 110 frwy on ramp while I clicked away at the well lit christmas decorations and soon we were on the 110 in a sea of cars and never ending red brake lights going on and off in a bizarre stop and go menagerie. To my left as we approached the 10 frwy intersection, just past the old LA convention center, stood an amazing looking building I was not familiar with. It had a futuristic look reminiscent of a futuristic sail boat that looked fully worthy of the surreal, science fiction like skyline of Shanghai. By the signage I could see it was a Marriott Hotel, JW something, can't remember the full name but it had that real pricey look to it and near the top I could see what looked like a luxury restaurant which I have no doubt had killer views of all of Los Angeles. I was completely mesmerized by the grandness of the architecture and how it stood solitary in it's own space away from the rest of the cloud touching buildings of downtown.
After regaining my senses we were rounding the bend to get back on the 10 Frwy, a route I was all too familiar with have taken it about a thousand times on my many travels to the west side of LA when I was a resident in LaLa land. LA has its own charm and I admired the beauty of the landscape as there was still a hint of glow from the disappeared sun so I was still able to see the details behind all the shining city lights that define the mini cities of Century and Westwood and get the feeling of magic in the air. As we passed the always jammed packed 10 to 405 connection I was happy we were sailing straight through to the near end of of the 10 frwy, exiting at Olympic in the shadow of the Santa Monica Convention Center. To make our odyssey complete Jon decided to drive down Main St. instead of Nielson Way/Pacific (which we never do). Main street is the high end retail and restaurant street for locals who shun the touristy ghetto of the Promenade. It's all chic and sassy as we pass by supremely lit salons and restaurants populated by people who look like they are trying to be too cool for reality. It makes me want to jump out of the car with my missing tooth and mohawk and run into one of these places and scream "What's up people! How y'all doin?!" In just a few minutes it is clear that we have returned to the edginess of Venice from whence we began this epic journey as the gloss and shine was now replaced by the darker somberance of low end lighting, leathery skinned men pushing their entire existence in a shopping cart and teenaged zombie like skateboarders floating across the street like they are living in another dimension where they can not be hit by cars. Alas, we pull into the back of Jon's apartment building on North Venice blvd just across from the canals and park the car, tired, but satisfied and eager to download the day to our laptops to relive the adventure all over again.
I don't know of any other place in the world where one can have a day like this. Trash LA all you want but I know at times it is truly a special place full of mystery and odd eccentrics, you just need a full tank of gas and the knowledge of where to look.
There you have it. I have to mention my co-conspirator and navigator on this trip, my best friend for 25 year and award winning photojournalist and Master of the Hipsotmatic, Jonathan Alcorn, a long time resident of Venice Beach and chronicler of the Venice and greater LA experience. You can check out some his work at http://jonathanalcorn.blogspot.com/,
