So what is the deal with the pictures from earlier this morning? Well, first, a little background on how I got where those pictures were taken.

I woke up yesterday morning, and came to the conclusion that I simply did not want to be stuck in my apartment staring at the walls for another day, and I needed to figure out some way to prevent this. Thankfully, I had yesterday off (a random day off, but I am not one to complain), and decided to head east - I had heard about an outdoor range out in that direction, and I wanted to poke around the southern edge of the Salton Sea (we did not get to explore that end during our cross-country trip), so yesterday seemed like as good a day as any. Unfortunately there are only about two routes out that direction, Highway 3 which, other than remarkably steep grades, is rather unexciting, or California Route 94, which weaves around in the back country, past a reservoir/recrational lake, down towards the border, and then leads right into the road the range is on. You can imagine which one I took. (For those who cannot figure it out, this was my route, in an anonymized nature.) Highways are so boring these days, especially here in Southern California, what with them being twenty lanes wide and all that nonsense.

So, route chosen, and off I went. Otay Lake is... well... a lake. Not much to be said for it, except that it is apparently only open on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. That must have something to do with it being a reservoir, but I honestly have no idea. From there on, however, the road gets all manner of fun, switching back and forth, climbing up and down the sides of mountains, diving through valleys, and all that good stuff. Dulzura is situated in a perfectly beautiful valley, and I can definitely see the why of people living there, but not so much the how - do they commute to San Diego? Or is it exclusively a retirement community, and a rather large one at that? I cannot imagine commuting on roads like the ones in and out of there. Unfortunately, on the way out, I got stuck behind an articulated semi, so the drive out was not nearly as fun as the drive in, but I guess those are the breaks. From there on out, you will pass through a couple other small towns , and after you pass under some railroad tracks, you will actually be within a few hundred feet of Mexico. Kinda wierd, especially with the whole lack of a fence, wall, or other demarcation line that would make crossing it difficult. But, obviously, that kind of thing would be racist. Moving on.

The next big town you come to is Campo, home to the Pacific Southwest Railway Museum. Unfortunately, I did not have the time to stop, but after passing it, turning around, and coming back, I just had to stop at the Motor Transport Museum. I lucked out, in that they are only open on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, but lost due to the fact that I got there just in time for all of the guys working there to be headed to lunch. The gentleman who spoke with me, however, was very polite, and was very enthusiastic about me coming back the next time I was in the area. Trust me - that is a very distinct possibility. This place has the most delightfully eclectic collection of cars, trucks, equipment, and just random bits and bobs from about 10 years back all the way back to possibly the early '20s, if not farther. I did not have a chance to poke my head into the actual building where they do their restoration work, but just the stuff they had parked out on the grounds was impressive as hell, ranging from a centrifugal pump 10 feet in diameter to an old air raid siren to Ford trucks your grandfather could have driven to old military two-ton trucks to God knows what else. I was the only visitor at the time, but anyone who is any manner of interested in antique cars, historical equipment, or anything of the like would definitely get a kick out of this place.

Moving on out of Campo, you come across an Indian reservation (not the most depressing one I have seen, but close), the town of Boulevard, and the town of Jacumba, which actually seems like a pleasant enough very-small town, complete with a Hot Springs Resort. Kinda wierd, but the San Andreas Fault is nearby, so it makes sense. However, just past it is the first place I was looking for on this trip: The Carrizo Creek Range.

Now, I more-or-less followed the directions from their webpage on how to get there (so I took the backroads... still got to the same intersection), but there are no signs indicating where the range is, so I was driving buy guesswork. However, once I drove over a very short (both in terms of height and length) bridge labelled as the Carrizo Creek, I knew I must be in the neighborhood. I turned around, and pulled off at the only available pull-off, and immediately upon getting out of my car, was confronted with all manner of firearm detritus. Considering the fact that you are requried to take your brass/trash/waste/targets with you when you leave, and that their last range-wide cleanup was only a few months ago, to say that people have been being careless would be putting it mildly. At any rate, before I go any further, first a little history: This tract of land, right off Old Highway 80, is managed by the Bureau of Land Management, and is designated as "multi-use land". It has been used as a range for some time now, and its natural geological formation certainly lends itself well to that purpose. There are no facilities out there (the closest bathroom and water are back in Jacumba, about two miles distant), nor any range masters, but you are still subject to the basic California firearm laws, like them or not.

Anywise, given that I was almost right on top of Carrizo Creek (not much of a creek, granted... this is the desert, for all intents and purposes) and surrounded by spent casings, I was pretty sure I was in the right place. However, having poked around a little in the SoKal backcountry before, I knew that people had a tendecy to shoot off their firearms anywhere there was a good gully out of sight and sound from any nearby civilization - not exactly the most legal thing in the world. Desiring to stay mostly within the bounds of the laws as I am, I walked up to a couple of people set up out of the back of the truck, and inquired as to whether or not this location was the Carrizo Creek Range. These two... sophonts... to put it as politely as I can, could see me coming for about a hundred feet (I parked my car at the base of the hill), and were wearing protective glasses and hearing protection. I could not see the bed of their pickup truck, but I could see the butt of a rifle sticking out of it. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Excuse me, is this the Carrizo Creek Range?
Him (only one spoke): The what?
Me: The Carrizo Creek Gun Range?
Him: Never heard of it. *glances at the other* Nope, you are talking to the wrong people.
Me: Oh...
Him: Are you looking for an outdoor range or something?
Me: Yeah, basically.
Him: Yeah, we have no idea where one of those is... There are some people over there you could talk to, though.
Me: Ok, thanks.

It being painfully obvious that the conversation was over, I left them to their devices, and left the area - if they were any indication of my welcome at the other party at the range, I certainly was not going to bother. And I certainly was not going to force the conversation when they were armed... I do not know if they thought the question was so painfully obvious as to be stupid (it probably was, but, again, I wanted to be sure), or if the first rule of the Carrizo Creek Range is you do not talk about the Carrizo Creek Range, or what the malfuction was, but they were excessively rude for no apparent reason, and I have no patience for that kind of stupidity. I certainly hope these two individuals were not indicative of the standard user of the range... otherwise, it is no small wonder that it gets trashed so regularly, considering their disregard of the basic concepts of common courtesy. I will admit, in all of the gun shows I have attended and ranges I have shot at, you do run into the occasional jackass - but, in all honesty, they are remarkably few and far between. These guys made up for it, though.

As for the range itself, there are no designated firing lines, you pretty much pull up to your corner of the hill, set up your targets where ever you like, and go at it. The hill has enough rills and gullys to be usable by a relatively large number of people, so busy days (if it ever gets any) should not be a problem. Just be mindful of your basic firearm safety rules and be situationally aware so you do not walk into someone's line of fire while they are shooting. And bring lots of sunscreen - there are no trees or shelters of any variety, and even less shade. If you shoot here often, one of those fold-up portable patio tent thingies might be useful. And while the only way to get to the various firing lines at the range are by dirt road, they have been sufficiently worn down that my Mazda 3 would have had no problems with them.

Moving on... From there on, I hopped on Highway 8 just to save a little time (and because I did not know of anything else I wanted to see on the back roads), and then hopped off again on California Route 111, just east of El Centro. Stayed on that for a spell, until it passed through Calipatria, and then took a left on Sinclair Road. And this is pretty much where Google Maps fails. All of those roads you see north and west of Calipatria are, in fact, dirt roads on one side or the other of irrigation ditches that services the fields between the roads. Sinclair Road, thankfully, was fully paved, but if you plan on getting around the rest of those roads with any degree of ease, bring a truck. At the end of Sinclair Road is the headquarters of the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge, along with the Rock Hill Trail. Honestly, there is not a lot to be said for either. If you are interested in bird-watching, this would be a good place, since this particular section of the park is home to artificially-created baby-bird-haven islands, and pretty much the entire park is dedicated as a refuge for the massive variety of birds that visit the sea. The Rock Hill is just that, though you can find interesting pieces of basalt on the way out to it - another indication of the proximity of the San Andreas Fault. As for the view... well, I will leave that to you to find out. However, be forewarned - anywhere you visit on the Salton Sea will have all manner of dead fish on the beaches, along with the occasional dead bird. Basically, the increasing salinity of the Sea, combined with industrial/agricultural run-off, combined with the occasional bacteria bloom, is slowly killing off everything in the Sea. Also, bring plenty of water, and sunscreen, and a hat, and all good nonsense - the highest temperature I recorded was 106 Fahrenheit, and while it was hazy, there were no clouds. This is not Death Valley (though the bottom of the Sea is only 5 feet closer to sea level than the Valley is), but it sure is close.

One interesting thing you will find on the way out to the park, though, are geothermal power plants. It took me a bit to figure out what they were (actually, it took a sign at the park for me to figure out what they were), but apparently they drill down (which explains the drilling rigs you will also see), suck up heated brine, flash it to steam, run it through turbines, and dump the leftover briny-brine back into the Sea. Gotta love pollution-free power, but I doubt it yields very many megawatts.

Leaving the park, going back east on Sinclair Road, and then left on Garst Road, you will head towards the Red Hills Marina Country Park and Campground. On the way there, you will probably see the vantage point from which I took the first picture in the previous post. Also, if you continue a little past the turnoff for the Marina (Schrimpf Road), you will find the second. And, for clarification, those piers are now projecting out over salt flats. Even that blue-green is salt. The nearest water is a good fifty feet away from the end of the wood. As for the Marina/Campground, it is still occupied, though you cannot venture out into the camping area without registering, and the marina looks many years disused (Though it was very expensively built, with concrete jetties creating an artificial alley out into the water, protected from whatever wave action - none - and all that good stuff. In fact, all of the marinas on the Sea are like that, and I have no idea why.). Registration is $5, with electricity hookups costing $7, and monthly storage costing $100.

I left there, made my way back to 111, and headed north again. On the way to Niland, I ran into the first checkpoint of the day. Yes, checkpoint. On California 111. By the Salton Sea. Basically, the middle of gorram nowhere. What was this checkpoint, and who manned it? Well, honestly, I could not tell you why it was there, but it was manned by the Border Patrol. More on that later.

Immediately after the checkpoint, I hung a left on Niland Marina Road, and drove down to the now-closed state park. That is where pictures three and four were taken, though I would caution that even more dead fish (and the associated flies) are down there. Additionally, hundreds of pellicans camp out on the remains of yet another set of concrete jetties - my camera has nowhere near enough zoom to adequately photograph them, but it seems like a good place for more bird-watching.

Back out on 111, I managed to completely forget about Salvation Mountain, and headed on to Bombay Beach. This community is... interesting. The southern portions of it were lost to the Sea some time back, and precipitated the construction of the levies that surround the area. On the southern side of the levies you can find the object I took the fifth picture of. However, as for the "town"... it appears to be constituted of beach buggy-ers, retirees, and melting mobile homes. I honestly do not know why anyone would live there, or still does, or what they do for a living, but they do. To say this place was depressing would be an understatement. I headed out of there shortly after I got my pictures, back south on 111.

Retracing my steps to Calipatria, I took a right on Main Street, which turned into W. Eddins Road, which turned into Eddins Road, which turned into Gentry Road (at least there was a turn at that transformation), which turned into Walker Road, which turned into Forrester Road. Erf. Before I got to California 78/86, however, I took a right on Bannister Road, and another right on Vendel Road. This particular road, first paved, then gravel, then dirt, terminates at the last section of the Sonny Bono Refuge, and there is not a lot here. A two-story wood tower for bird watching, and a composting toilet. And that is it. Due to the preserve, you cannot even get to the Sea from here. Spending all of five minutes here, I headed back south and hopped on 86/78 west.

However, before I could even get to the turn-off for 78 West, I ran into yet another checkpoint... with a mile of traffic before it. Also manned by the Border Patrol. Now, I am not terribly sure what their particular mission is, but would it not normally have something to do with... you know... patrolling the border? These two checkpoints I encountered were easily 50 miles from the said border. Additionally, they were in fixed buildings, not roving trucks. And they were on roads with remarkably low levels of traffic. I have no idea what they were trying to catch with these checkpoints - possibly people who walk across the border and then get rides within the States - but considering the fact that Highway 8 does not have any checkpoints on it, and the fact that there are other ways to get north from Highway 8 (just a little out of the way, is all), these checkpoints serve to do nothing more than inconvenience honest people actually trying to get somewhere. Add to this the fact that the only presence I saw of the Border Patrol while driving around between San Diego and Jacumba (talk about places to have a checkpoint) was just them tooling around in their cute little white-and-green pickup trucks, and my viewpoint of them, right now, is not particularly bright. Do not misunderstand me - they do provide a valuable service, and America does need them. But they are providing that service poorly and inefficiently, and misusing their people and their capabilities. If they did a better job of actually patrolling the border, or, God help us, actually secured the border so as to make crossing it difficult, idiotically pointless checkpoints like the ones I found would become superfluous.

After the checkpoint, I continued heading north to explore the now-retired Salton Sea Military Reservation. The road into it is blocked by impassable (at least for my car) sand dunes, but about a mile's walk down presents you with... well... nothing. Whatever was left when the military retired the base was either taken by them, surrendered to time, or destroyed by the government when they built a salt-level monitoring station as part of the continuing effort to reclaim, or at least stabilize, the Sea. The area seems to be good for offroad vehicles, especially judging from the number of tracks I saw, but there was a cute little sign on the way in that basically amounted to, "This used to be a military test range. If it looks like a bomb, it probably is a bomb, and you probably should not touch it." I made sure to stick to the paved road (or at least the dunes on top of it).

Retracing my steps once again, I headed south to the 78 turnoff, and followed it west, past the Ocotillo Wells Vehicular Recreation Area and the town of Borrego Wells. For all you speed freaks out there, this road passes into the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, and shortly before the park, there is a sign that says, swear to God, "End 65 MPH speed limit". The only speed limit signs I saw after that until California Route 79 were the advisorial ones - the yellow ones before curves. Granted, a lot of that road I would not take any faster than 30, but there were some decent straightaways, and even a good downhill one. 78 takes you through the southern stretch of the Park, and even in the dry season, it is certainly something to see. The road gets windy towards the west end, and then really, really windy towards 79 (like multiple 180 degree switchbacks per mile, for about five miles), but if you want to really experience the park, as well as the twisty roads it can create, I suggest going up to Borrego Springs proper, and exploring California Route S22.

78 intersects 79 at Julian, which offers the chance for some stargazing, as well as an outstanding view of the valley you just climbed up from on 78. If you look carefully from the scenic overlook south of Julian on 79, you can find a massive "B" painted into one of the hillsides... why, I have no idea - the towns down there are called "Whispering Pines" and "Kentwood-in-the-Pines". Following even more switchbacks and windy roads south on 79, you will pass by Lake Cuyamaca (yet another recreational reservoir) and the Cuyamaca Rancho State Park. This park suffered substantial damage during the Cedar Fire of 2003, and a lot of the damage from it is still visible, though most of the park is open once again. However, as with all natural areas in Southern California, there is a mountain lion presence, so plan and act accordingly if you want to go hiking/camping around.

And eventually, 79 gets you back to Highway 8, which will get you back to San Diego.

It is quite a drive... I left about 10:30 in the morning, and did not get back until about 8:30 at night, but it was well worth it. The variety of landscapes you can see on such a short loop is amazingly impressive, and it shows you just how close San Diego is to honest-to-God desert. And some of the geological formations around Jacumba are just amazing... hills ranging from standard mesa-type things and massive piles of dirt, to what look to be enormous piles of boulders, like a giant-sized dump truck dropped off a load of rocks, and never came back to pick them up. Salton Sea itself is impressive, sometimes from the massive amount of depression (emotional, ecological, and economical), but also sometimes from the vistas and sights you can see. And always impressive from the heat - at least there is no humidity, right? And driving through the back country is always fun, especially with a small, nimble car, like mine. That said, when you are enjoying windy roads, please try and stay on your side... I just about ate an overly-agressive Miata coming down 78 as I was going up it. The driver was obviously enjoying the windy road (and that is definitely the car to do it in - mine has nothing on it), but skirting a head-on to do so seems somewhat foolish. Again, bring plenty of fluids, and as a somewhat related note, if you get below half a tank of gas, you should start searching for a station - it will probably take you that long to find one. Convenience stores are aplenty, but gas stations are few and far between on some stretches. And, like I said, a truck/SUV/vehicle with more clearance would have definitely been useful in a lot of the areas. As for the Carrizo Creek Range, I will have to weigh the drive (about an hour and a half), obnoxious people, and outdoor location against having a free place to shoot... Only having a pistol, as I do, I might be willing to pay for air conditioning. Once I secure a rifle, however, I might venture out there and see how it is from the shooting aspect, and just mind my own business in the future.

If you are ever in the San Diego area for an extended period of time, I would definitely suggest a drive like this - it gets you out of the bustling metropolis the city is, and reminds you of the fact that there is, indeed, nature out there. Like I said, there is not a lot good to be said about Kalifornistan, but some of its more natural areas make the discomfort of living here a little less painful.

As an aside, does anyone have a good remedy for quarter-sized blisters? I guess my year-old hiking boots that I have worn off and on for that year were not quite as broken-in as I would have liked. The blasted things have already popped, but now they just hurt like the devil... I am just thankful they had not moved from clear liquids to red ones...