Not so long ago we drove from LAX across California to the Mojave Desert. With a vague notion as to which direction we needed to go and knowing we had a cheap hotel room booked somewhere towards the far horizon we headed east. Before we knew it we were on the old Route 66. As usual, we forgot to pack the maps but, always happy to add to the growing collection back at home, we bought another one somewhere along the way, sat back and enjoyed the journey with most of the photos taken from the passenger seat if only because, as usual, the hotel was further way than we thought. It was in Arizona, over the Colorado River from the casino town of Laughlin in Nevada where we went for dinner. Laughlin is a story for another time but the breathtaking silence and beauty of the Mojave is a journey in to the gentle whispers of time.
Here are some photographs of the journey through the time that was once a golden age of motoring on the fabulous but now faded Route 66.
I spent the last week in Los Angeles. During an idle afternoon of sunshine at the fabulous Venice Beach I watched in awe as a group of young, and older, boys skated on their boards. With wild abandon and total confidence they flew around the cement ponds, fearless and as light as feathers.
Here is one of them, up in the air. Shooting the breeze.
Last days of May are fading fast. Here in New York summer has muscled its bossy way in, firmly shutting the door on any leftover spring gentility. As for winter? So long ago already. Yet, only two weeks ago, in the hills surrounding Yosemite National Park, we woke to falling snow.
The story of our attempts to get to Yosemite are long and detailed. I know where to begin, but, with so many elements involved, I just don’t know where to end. Soon I shall put them down in a narrative of pen and ink in order for me to bring form and order to the events. Until then, some pictures to tell part of the story.
We began our journey in Los Angeles, driving to Death Valley before venturing to Yosemite on our way to San Francisco. A week-end break! These photos were taken through the car window on the journey through Nevada, Death Valley behind us, Yosemite ahead.
. . . I am reminded of one where conversation rarely strikes. Cafe de la Presse, in San Francisco, has become my regular cafe of choice for breakfast. Being on my own I skip any waiting line and take a seat at the bar where I sit with my coffee – rich, strong, smooth and black, in a contented cone of silence. Sometimes I have a book with me but more often than not it sits on the counter, a companionable prop to the developing narrative of time and place.