<< 2010 Journeys: Route 66 | Day 2: Leaving Los Angeles Behind >>
On the Road Again, to Santa Monica
As we backed the RV out of the driveway, Ben popped in one of the "Road Trip" CD’s that he had compiled specifically for this trip. Within seconds, we were all singing along loudly with Willie Nelson’s distinctive twang:
On the road again
Just can't wait to get on the road again.
The life I love is making music with my friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again.
On the road again
Goin' places that I've never been.
Seein' things that I may never see again
And I can't wait to get on the road again.
We hit the CD “rewind” button so that we could all sing the second portion again—the words fit us so perfectly!
Today we would be driving about 350 miles south to Los Angeles, where we would begin our Route 66 journey tomorrow morning in the seaside community of Santa Monica.
Near our home, the agricultural fields in Pajaro Valley had recently been plowed, and the rich brown earth contrasted beautifully with the green hills.
Near the Driscoll Strawberries headquarters was a large, flat cut-out of two children with baskets of strawberries, pointing in the direction of the company entrance.
The Pajaro Valley is known for producing some of the best strawberries. On our cross-country adventure last summer, we had found Driscoll berries in supermarkets all over the United States.
The clouds were flying low today, resting on the hilltops.
The wispy ones were my favorites.
As we climbed higher on Pacheco Pass, we entered some thick fog.
Visibility was severely limited. Indeed, the fog hid all clues that there was a huge reservoir stretching for miles along the right side of the road.
The San Joaquin Valley was filled with a white haze, and Highway 5 had stop-and-go traffic for miles and miles.
I love the bald, rippling hills that reveal all of their erosion secrets.
The mountains were obscured by the milky air.
Groves of orange trees were covered in ripe fruit. Picking season had begun, and some of the trees had empty boxes nearby, waiting to be filled.
At the southern end of the valley was a field dotted with oil pumps, moving their gigantic “heads” up and down:
We climbed up out of the San Joaquin Valley on the stretch of highway known as “the Grapevine.” To our right was Pyramid Lake.
The lake was created by a dam project in 1973. It is part of the California Aqueduct system that transports water from the Sierra Nevada Mountains to Southern California.
During one portion of the highway, the left and right sides cross over each other. Here is a view looking at the northward traffic flowing along on the right side:
The road was built along the side of the hill, and I marveled at the crossbeam system of supports underneath.
Tonight we were staying at the Dockweiler RV Park, located next to the Playa del Rey beach, south of Santa Monica. We arrived just as the sun was setting.
Genevieve:
With Sebastian:
The RV park was not fancy—basically just a big parking lot with a picnic table at each spot.
However, the oceanside location was divine, and we were really happy.
The park was in the flight path of planes taking off from the Los Angeles airport, but the noise didn’t bother us; in fact, I enjoyed looking at the many planes that passed overhead this evening.
Between the RV park and the ocean was a long, tall mound of sand that stretched the entire length of the park. We learned that it was part of a beach replenishment program to combat erosion, but it also seemed like it would offer some small protection to campers in the unlikely event of high surf or a tsunami. The children got hours of enjoyment out of this mound, jumping off of the top and then rolling down the side. Genevieve and Sebastian jumping:
A fuzzy view of them rolling downhill:
Climbing back up was almost as fun:
Sebastian jumping solo:
Our crazy kids:
Parked next to our RV was a family from Cucamonga, California. Genevieve and Sebastian bonded almost immediately with their two kids, Renee and Brandon. I prepared dinner to the background "music" of much laughter and squealing, as the kids jumped together, rolled down the hill, and scooped sand out of a big hole in the top of the mound.
Genevieve and Sebastian on the mound, silhouetted against the night sky:
I’d like to report that we had a perfect evening. However, what is life without some drama?
After dinner, Ben was outside watching the kids, and I was putting away the dishes. Sebastian was running and climbing the sand mound with Brandon in the dark. They both fell together, and Sebastian had a face-plant with his eyes open. From inside the RV, I could hear the most awful screaming. I rushed outside to see Ben running toward me with Sebastian clutched in his arms.
Sebastian was screaming at the top of his lungs, “GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!!!!” Once inside, we gently pried open one of his eyes to find a solid sheet of sand caked over the eye. This is where “parent mode” kicks in. Instead of recoiling in horror, a sense of calmness descends. Almost like a robot, actions are taken that are methodical and quick. The clear focus is on doing whatever it takes to remedy the situation and stop the pain that one’s child is experiencing.
Picture a scene where Ben is cradling Sebastian over sink while I am careful washing each eye out with a combination of purified water and eye lubricant drops. Every so often, I will stop, pry apart Sebastian’s eyelids again, and gently scoop out big globs of sand that have gathered in the corners of his eyes—always careful not to scrape against the eyeball itself. Meanwhile, Sebastian is shrieking loudly--ear-piercing screams that register distantly in my brain. This goes on for about 20 minutes, at least—although time seemed to stand still.
Finally, we have enough sand out so that we are not in “crisis” mode any longer. We hold Sebastian tightly, and soothe him enough so that his screams are reduced to low wailing. Then there is another round of cradling over the sink, pouring water gently, putting in eye drops, and carefully scooping sand chunks. We are all exhausted.
Afterward, Sebastian sat on the sofa with his eyes closed. It was still too painful for him to open his eyes. Ben and I took turns pulling Sebastian’s top eyelashes a bit out and down so that the eyelids were not pressing against his tender eyeballs. We put in additional lubricating drops and eventually put him to bed. We hoped that his eyes would generate lots of natural fluids that would continue the cleansing process overnight.
While Sebastian lay in bed with his eyes closed, I opened the book “Charlotte’s Web” and read the first three chapters out loud. One of the joys of our RV trips is our nightly story time readings. As I finished each chapter tonight, and tried to stop, Sebastian would protest, “No, Mom! Read some more, please!”
I finally closed the book and turned off the light. I have to admit that I was worried about Sebastian’s eyes. However, Ben and I had worked quickly to get all the sand out. And Sebastian was definitely feeling better now. We would have to wait until the morning to see if our first day on Route 66 would involve a side-trip to the hospital.
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