Interstate 5 comes to an anticlimactic end at the southwest corner of San Diego. For most of my life, with the exception of an occasional frat bro bender on Revolucion, The San Ysidro border crossing was a cul-de-sac, a U-turn between structure and chaos, safety and danger. Over the past five plus years, with some help from my friends, I've pushed aside the stereotypes (all totally exaggerated) and explored some of my favorite places on earth in the last frontier of Southern California. Last weekend was no exception. #vivabaja.
A special thanks to our friends at bajabound.com for keeping us on the road.
The Santo Tomas Valley.
RIP Juan Aldana
The only left in Baja.
Never too old to jump.
Looking for dinner.
You should have been here yesterday.
What she lacks in tract homes and strip malls, she makes up for in beauty.
San Diego circa 1896 (less satellite dishes and solar panels).
We were stoked to have perfect weather.
The last night rolls around and the anticipation of Monday morning meetings in the office begins to haunt you.
The Sierras have plenty of space to explore, stretching 400 miles from north-to-south and roughly 70 miles wide. It's home to some of California's finest outdoor destinations, including Mount Whitney, Tahoe, and Yosemite. We landed in Kit Carson, a small unpopulated area about an hour south of Tahoe on Silver Lake. The pictures pretty much tell the whole story. It's worth a visit.
I'm a terrible historian. The trip got me wondering who the hell this Kit Carson character was. He was raised in Missouri, one of 15 children. He trekked around the frontier mountains of the West for most of the 1800s. Among other things, dude fought in the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, and led a full-fledged battle against the Apache Indians. Rightfully so, he's a villain to some historians and a prolific force in developing the West to others. Regardless, it's kind of rad to have a little town in your name, especially this one.
Silver Lake (not in LA)
Thunder Mountain (not in Anaheim)
Silver Lake impersonating its big brother to the north, Lake Tahoe
Snow in California in June in black and white
"The moment you cross the little wire gate and you're in Mexico, you feel like you just sneaked out of school when you told the teacher you were sick and she told you you could go home, 2 o'clock in the afternoon." - Jack Kerouac
We spent a week in the Mexican desert in early February. There wasn't a ton of surf but the surf we did get was clean and the weather was perfect. Until next year Mexico!
Sunrise at Point Perfect
As we moved in, a storm moved out, leaving a handful of photographer's clouds behind
I've never surfed in Nebraska but I imagine this is what it would look like
The shadow and the silhouette
Camp under a firing full moon
Lined up and going right
They just don't make 'em like they used to.