With only U2′s album artwork as a guide I’ve gone through my life assuming The Joshua Tree was one single solitary tree ….
Turns out there are 800,000 acres full of the spike-leafed desert dwellers in the Flinstones meets Dr. Seuss landscape that is Joshua Tree National Park.
Climbing to the top of Joshua Tree’s jumbo rocks to watch the sunset.
Sunset View, part 1.
Sunset View, part 2.
Sunset behind a cholla cactus.
Full moonrise over Joshua Tree National Park.
This is what winter in Southern California looks like:
Welcome to Winter.
Morning rainbow over a Newport Beach surfer.
Miles and miles of an empty as sin beach.
Sunset surfer under the Newport Pier.
Lifeguard tower turned guitar & beerverage station.
I didn’t have my nautical themed pashmina afghan with me, but I still spent yesterday on a boat. Specifically, on a vintage Duffy boat that lazily cruised its way through Newport Harbor as the afternoon turned into sunset.
Best bad boat names of the day: Wor-Ship, Seas The Day, Watt a Joule, and Su Sea Q.
Stay Beautiful or no one will love you …
It’s always wine o’clock!
Newport Harbor sunset.
Big Sur is a stunning, sparsely populated jewel that is by far one of the most drop dead gorgeous places I’ve ever been.
We cruised into the land of literary legends along the winding coastal ribbon at sunset, just in time to watch nude photos and self-timer jump silhouettes being taken in the golden hour light above the Bixby Bridge.
On a rumour-laced whim we headed for the Esalen Institute, which we had been told opens its infamous cliff-side hot springs to the public every night from 1am-3am. Sure enough, for $20 we were able to spend a couple deep dark hours soaking skinny-dip style in steaming cliff-side pools that towered over the Pacific Ocean and cowered under a spectacular meteor shower.
Big Sur was especially paradisaical thanks to Esalen’s night guard Tommy inviting us to ditch sleeping in the van and instead stay in the guest room at his home sweet cabin — I’m talking waking up 1400 feet above a day so clear you can see whales splashing in the ocean below.
Sunset over Bixby Creek Bridge in Big Sur.
Morning from the guest room patio (click on the panorama for a better view).
Outdoor living room.
Tommy & Suzanne, or the dictionary definition of Big Sur Cabinmance.
Last week my pal Miss Quincy and I hit the highway South in hopes that California would live up to its suntacular reputation and serve us up a big ol’ slice of summer for winter. Here are a few photos from the long & lazy drive:
Fresh across the border on the I5 South.
Morning yoga in an Oregon rest-stop after an achingly cozy night of van camping.
First morning of California sun after another night of van camping.
One of the 4 bazillion vista points along California’s Pacific Coast Highway.
Reveling in a Vitamin D overdose.
Forgot to put flowers in our hair, but cruising through San Francisco nevertheless.
Promised land of produce.
Miss Q writing away the day in Half Moon Bay.
Click on the panorama of Half Moon Bay for a closer look.
When winter starts to rear her S.A.D. head one of the best things you can do is find a hobby to wile away the deep dark days with. That in mind, I have recently taken to sending good old fashioned letters that have been written with scissors & paste.
For a closer read click on the photos or check out the transcripts below them.
I’m trippin’ with the shamanoid in Bangkok…
This weekend we saw folk ass bitch music and jazz in a tube at the Hard Rock Cafe.
Tonight I am going to live it up with the local Chinese pleasure provider
who is accomplished in hand jobs and pigeon sex.
Tomorrow I am busy hunting the narwhal.
Have a sweet year.
It was horrifying to read that you like to quench your lust with
50 shades of sex play with Mr. Senior Top Dominance and Mr. Baldnutz.
Interlude with dwarves …..
Despite the curse of the redneck fight to death,
death rates are down in Rocket City.
Viewed through the eyes of evolution, it is because one day in the year 800
The Urban Clan of Pilgrim Cowboys
Released the elusive okapi into Harry Potter’s garden.
Keep on rolling.
Let’s meet in a seedy hotel in France,
Or a back-alley back in the USSR
For one fast and furious moment of pleasure.
Making your head spin with hard lipstick kisses
Before opening my feminine flesh
For your massive cock.
And then smelling of sweaty sex,
I will offer you a cigarette.
Here’s one of my favorite old photos in honour of the upcoming Halloweekend. It’s of my Mother Hen and Uncle and was taken once upon a 1960s Halloween in Bow Island, AB.
This is what Vancouver looks like at night from atop Cypress Mountain.
(Click the photo to get a closer look)
Mount Maxwell is supposed to be the highest point on Salt Spring Island and offer “Oooh! Ahhh!” views of Vancouver Island, the surrounding Gulf Islands, and mainland BC. I can’t be sure if that’s true because when I was there it was socked in with fog straight out of a haunted postcard.
(To check out Salt Spring’s backyard farms click here. To check out Salt Spring’s fall frenzy click here.)