On the one hand, from the perspective of a young boy, I can see why exploring Bombay Beach would be just about the coolest thing ever. On the other hand, from the perspective of an adult, the view of a father smoking while his kids play in the post-apocalyptic hellscape of the Salton Sea is hilarious.
Clear Sky Expanse
The Thanksgiving evening was perfectly clear, as late-autumn evenings in the desert often are, and I felt like I could see forever: stones and brush in the foreground, over the Pines to Palms Highway, across the irrigated valley floor, before slicing the final bits of sunlight off the tops of the Little San Bernardino Mountains.
What Planet Is This?
Home in the High Desert
Shores of Lake Cahuilla
Surf and Surf
Sand For Miles
The Towel Dealer
As you might expect for a charming town on the Indian Ocean, St. Lucia is heavily carpeted with folks ready to sell anything and everything (to tourists, of course.) The waves were crashing just beyond this dune—I could already smell and hear them—but on this little rise, under the shade of the coniferous trees, beach towels and toys were for sale. The brightly colored array, flapping in the breeze in a strangely orderly way, brought to my mind nothing more than some strange local variation on a Shinto shrine.
Little Acorns (Sand Fortress V)
Perhaps acorns scattered on the beach don’t really count as castles (as in I, II, III, and IV of the series), but the neural pathways (cliché incoming: imagination) of a six-year-old, they can be elegant abodes of elves or the landing pods of a tiny invasion force. I think they fit the theme nicely. During my trip to Connecticut last week (again, tragically bereft of my Nikon), I visited Lake Wononscopomuc, where I spent the summers (and winters) of my youth. It brought my back to the thinking of that “miniature me,” if only for a few minutes.