Headwinds

Buenas noches, mis cabritillas, 

We're coming at you live from the fabulously named Starvation State Park in Utah. I presume that this is a sister to Donner Memorial State Park?  And, like Badlands National Park or Desolation Canyon or Dead Horse State Park, the name is a great hook to get you in the door.

I've decided that the theme for the trip so far is, "Headwinds". Apparently, three varieties of headwinds exist:

Headwind #1: The self-imposed kind. In this headwind, you do things that slow yourself down, such as trying to pack all the gear you could need for every conceivable situation (What if it's really hot and we want to sleep outside? What if it snows? What if it snows AND we want to sleep outside???). Or, taking on additional tasks before you declare yourself ready to leave (Oh yeah, we probably should make sure that the garden has an automatic timer on it so the plants don't die. Let's go back to the store, again!).

Headwind #2: The kind other people impose on you. For instance, say you take your truck into the shop on Thursday for some maintenance, then discover on Sunday that they haven't actually hooked some parts back up properly. This means that you have to go back in on Monday and spend another couple hours at the shop. For instance.

Headwind #3: The actual, natural kind. Let's be literal for a moment. Imagine you're driving across the Bonneville Salt Flats of western Utah. Imagine further that a 40mph wind is blowing at you. Now, if you were walking, that would suck, but you're in a car, so no biggie, right? EXCEPT this wind storm is also blowing clouds of salt at you, which is like being in a dense fog, except if you stick a pretzel outside it gets all tasty. That would slow you down a bit, wouldn't it? And it did.

So, the good news is that we are ready for literally anything. The bad news is that we have yet to do any real birding, and we're about 3 days behind schedule already. 

Tomorrow, we arrive in Colorado, hoping to start our birding activities in the afternoon, with Thursday morning being an early rise to chase down some grouse.

By the way, if you're going to drive from California to Nevada, I recommend Rye Patch State Park is a nice place to camp. And, in Utah, the Salt Flats are worth checking out, and the drive past Park City, through Heber Valley, and down Hwy 40 is very beautiful.

Until next time, 
Me

Butchers and MEAT!

Mis Pescaditos,

The last 10 days have been a brief respite from the rigors of doing a Biggish Year. We've been home except for a short trip, which I will explain briefly, getting caught up on work, chores, and other mundanities. Well, that's all about to change... but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Last Saturday began like a Typical American Saturday for a Typical American Family: we rose at 6AM sharp, quickly dressed, and then drove to Starbucks. Breakfast procured, we then drove 3 hours to find a bird. See? Exactly like the average family.

The specific bird, however, is what distinguishes this Saturday from other more routine Saturdays; our bird of interest was a Brown Shrike, a rare visitor from Asia. This one, like many other rare visitors from Asia, was a juvenile who apparently got lost when told his parents could he please please go to Bobby's house for dinner, he'll just be a little while, everybody else gets to go to Bobby's house, why why why, Bobby's parents like him better, OK thanks bye!

This Brown Shrike has taken a liking to the Mendocino area, and really, why the heck not? Mendocino has everything Shrikes like, such as bees and grasshoppers (of course, many other places do, too, but don't tell our guest). And, it's only 3 hours by car to great places like Napa! (like he cares)

Fortunately, our Brown Shrike did not play hard-to-get. After our 3 hour drive, we walked the 1/2 mile road to where he was supposed to be, only to find 8 other birders who had been waiting for a while. As though Mr. Shrike knew we were finally there, not 5 minutes later, somebody shouted, "There's the bird!!!"

Yo, Shrike, why you gotta be so far away? Couldn't you have come just a BIT closer? No? OK, fine, be that way.

After a few minutes of watching him fly from perch to perch, we looked at each other and asked, "Are we done here?" Apparently, we were, so after a total of maybe 30 minutes, it was time for the 3 hour drive back home. Such are the burdens when you're doing a Biggish Year.

[Aside: Apparently, the term for a group of shrikes is an "Abattoir of Shrikes", and a nickname for the shrike is "Butcher Bird". Really??? A) I've never heard this, so it must not be true. B) They're so cute, they can't be that bad. C) Just because they capture prey and jab it into thorns or barbed wire to hold it still so they can feed, do they really deserve such a negative rep?]

To make the trip a little more interesting, we detoured through Bodega Bay to grab lunch at Diekmann's store (fresh crab sandwich FTW!) and tick off our first Long-Tailed Duck of the year:

I'd like to apologize to Mr. Gull for not getting him in focus. Lo siento, mi amigo.

At this point of the blog, you may be wondering, "Hey, Mr. Sir!" (and I thank you for your respectful tone, go on) "what was that big change you were talking about?" Well, Jimmy, thanks for asking.

As you may know, Spring is just around the corner, and Spring brings Migration, typically in a large floral basket with some flowers and a bottle of champagne. Scientists can actually track clouds of birds with radar, and combine that with weather data to forecast which birds will arrive in a particular location on a particular date. And we couldn't let those birds show up without saying Hi, could we?

So, starting Sunday, we're embarking on MEAT: Most Epic of All Trips! MEAT will have us on the road for about 60 days, in which we will drive to Texas via Colorado, take a side trip to fly to Florida, and then drive back home through the Chihuahuan, Sonoran and Mojave deserts. Really, just a little jaunt through the countryside, right?

I will be updating you on our progress as Internet access allows (which may not be often!).

Until next time, which should be somewhere near Denver,
Me

Most Extreme Bird Finding Challenge

Dear Hollywood,

The world is tired of overplayed reality show themes. People are sick of concepts like, "Put ten sexy college students in a house and watch them fight/make out" or "Put twelve sexy athletes on  an island and see who survives". What the public wants is something more dramatic and action-oriented!

With this in mind, I am giving you a limited-time offer to buy the rights to our new game show: Most Extreme Bird Finding Challenge! Think 24 meets Wild Kingdom!!!

Contestants have a limited time to find a wild animal, or else something bad happens. Here's a real-life example of how this might work:

Our contestants start the morning in Boca Raton, FL (Note to Producer: we start with the usual "get to know them" background). They first do a little warm-up birding during which they discover that Spot-breasted Orioles can only be found at daybreak, an hour before they got to the park (show that characters may fail). Then, the Challenge is revealed: Find an Egyptian Goose before the clock runs out and their flight home departs! They must leave by 3:00pm to catch the flight, so they only have a few hours. Let's see how it plays out:

11:30am :: Whipping out their phones, they find several reports within 20 miles, and plot a course through a number of parks toward the airport. They jump into the car and speed off through town (but not too fast, of course).

11:43am :: Confident, our contestants detour to V & S Italian Deli, for some tasty sandwiches. Just beating the lunch crowd, they're in and out in 15 minutes. (See the local sponsorship opportunities?)

12:16pm, Tradewinds Park :: So confident, they choose a shady picnic table to enjoy their sandwiches, and even pull a couple beers (more sponsorship) out of the cooler.This will be a breeze! Or will it?

12:51pm :: Beers and sandwiches gone, they have scoured the park, but no goose. Onward!

1:07pm, Pompano Community Park :: Tiny little park, so easy to scan. But not so easy to find a goose...

1:39pm, Skolnick Community Center :: Bad info! There is no Center, just condo towers. Retreat! (We have other tricks we can use on contestants)

1:46pm :: Jetting toward the next locale, a bird is spied on a canal as they drive over the bridge. Back up! That's it... nooooo, it's a decoy!!! (Example 2)

2:03pm, Chevron station adjacent to Caporella Park :: They run past a car wash, past a young African-American man calling, "Come get your car washed! New car or old car, we don't discriminate! Although they's gonna discriminate against us!". But scanning shore to shore, they come up empty. (Note brand usage for sponsorship. Also, local color adds some depth to the program, opportunities for recurring characters)

2:11pm, Royal Palm Park :: It was just seen a few days ago, but not now!

2:32pm, Plantation Preserve Golf Course :: Last chance! Less than 30 min to find the bird! But where to look?

2:35pm :: Contestants have to go into the Pro Shop and wait in line to ask where the trail is. (Getting info could also involve contestants having to do mini-games to win money to pay locals for tips)

2:44pm ::  Practically running down the mile-long path, they spy a promising shape in the distance... could it be? Nooo! it's a goose-shaped rock!

2:48pm :: Practically sprinting, he scans one side of the trail, she takes the other. And rounding a corner...there it is! The Egyptian Goose, on the bank of the pond! But now they only have 12 minutes to get back to the car!

2:58pm :: Back at the car, we have winners!

If needed, we have lots of ideas for making this more edgy. We could add alcohol (take a shot every time you miss seeing the bird!), guns (find the bird before the hunter does!), and/or bikinis (MEBFC: Hawaii).

I'll have my people call your people, and let's get this deal done.

Thanks,
Me

Birds are Entitled, Selfish Little Brats

Top 'o the morning to ya,

The last few days saw us cruising from hotspot to hotspot, trying to pick off a few more Florida specialities before we left. From shoreline, to grassland, to swamp, to pine forest, we've seen about all that South Florida has to offer. That is, at least in terms of ecosystems; we did not check out other such presumably fine and heavily advertised Florida locales as, "Crazy Horse" or "Cheetahs", although it sounds like there is some interesting wildlife there.

A common thread tying many of the Florida specialities with rare birds across the country is that many of them have declined precipitously in population over the not-too-distant past. For instance, the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker (which we saw!) is officially Endangered, having declined from more than 1 million nesting groups across the South to maybe 4,000.

Another example is the Florida Scrub-Jay, the only bird found exclusively in Florida. It has seen its population decline by as much as 90% in the past century, to just a few thousand nesting pairs. Thanks to eBird and some luck, we found this gorgeous bird in a residential neighborhood north of Fort Myers:

Why are these declines happening? Well, in reality, we have nobody to blame but the birds themselves.

Our Red-Cockaded Woodpecker, for example, prefers to live in old pine trees that have a specific disease, rendering the wood soft enough for them to peck out. Seriously, talk about a prima donna.

The Florida Scrub-Jay wants to live in open landscapes dominated by small oak trees, brush, and grasslands. The only way to get this kind of space in Florida is not to develop land, and then have wildfires burn through every few years to keep the growth down. Who really wants that? Even other birds hate the Florida Scrub-Jay for this.

The sub-species of Red Knot that travels through North America decided that they must breed in the Arctic and winter in Tierra del Fuego, so they regularly migrate thousands of miles per year. This crazy bird decided that caviar was a requirement for their journey, in the form of eggs from Horseshoe Crabs. As Horseshoe Crabs make great fertilizer and bait, that species has declined significantly along the Atlantic coast, putting the rufa variety that travels through North America at risk of extinction. They can't expect to live a jet-setting lifestyle of long-distance travel and caviar forever, right?

And, remember our friend the Key West Quail-Dove, who has practically been eliminated from the Keys because it was tame and tasty? That's obviously just a dumb choice on their part.

I could go on, but I won't. The bad decisions these birds make are just pathetic. They really just need to look themselves in a mirror and decide if this is how they want to live their lives. OK, I'm over it now.

Playing the Blame Game,
Me

That's what friends are for

Karma is a Wise Sensei

Greetings, Shell-heads,

Buona sera, from Naples!

Florida, that is. We're on the west coast of Florida, which offers some of the best sea-shell-finding beaches in the country, let alone the world. That is, according to people who hunt for shells. And me, who glanced at the beach and saw more shells than I could shake a stick at!

Our last two days have seen Birding Highs and Birding Lows. The highest High was getting a brief but fantastically clear glimpse of a Key West Quail-Dove yesterday at Long Key State Park.

Allow me to lay down some facts that illustrate how crazy rare this guy is:

The last Florida record for one of these was 2002. There were 4 (four) records in the 1900s of the bird in Florida, but none in the Keys. The bird bred in the Keys until the late 1800s, but was exterminated because they're apparently easy to shoot and good eating. They have hid out on some Caribbean islands, but almost never come here any more.

Do you feel factualized now? Do you get the monumentality of this???

Apparently 2 or 3 of these doves have been hanging out in the Keys for a few months--they heard about our new attitude toward Cuba, and wanted to be among the first visitors here--, and we took a shot at finding them. Thanks to a wonderfully nice birder from Massachusetts, our first view was about 5-10 seconds long, and nearly as good as this. Our second view, the next day and without Mr. Massachusetts, was more like this one.

The Low was spending all afternoon at Bahia Honda State Park, finding a total of 5 birds (not species, actual birds). Burning 5+ hours of your trip and getting fewer than 1 bird per hour was somewhat demoralizing. That said, there are many worse places in the world to spend an afternoon than Bahia Honda, and one of the birds was a Magnificent Frigatebird:

Our model, Julio, is sporting this spring's newest look: a sexy red cravat!

But, this post is about Karma. Many birders believe that Karma is a Thing; do something good and proper, and the Birding Gods will reward you. Here is how this works:

Today, we were at Everglades National Park, trying to find a Limpkin(*), a somewhat rare and hard-to-find denizen of Florida swamps. We hunted and hunted, and happened to see a glimpse of something in the underbrush. It was skulking like a Limpkin. It was brownish like a Limpkin. Walks like a duck, colored like a duck, is it a duck? Oh, probably... so we checked Limpkin off our year list.

A while later, feeling guilty at not seeing it better and maybe calling it prematurely, we decided that maybe a better view was desired. Returning to the area where we'd sighted it, we waited quietly. After only a few minutes, we again heard something skulking, and peered through thick grasses into the dark to see it. With a few changes of angle, we finally figured out what it was: American Bittern! A great bird to see, but not exactly what we wanted. So, we took Limpkin off the list.

Happy that we'd done the right thing, but somewhat sad at missing out on a Limpkin, we took off for the 75-mile drive to our hotel. Nearly to our destination, I had a glimpse of something in a canal next to the road. Could it be??? Nah... Limpkins don't hang out in the open! But at Her recommendation, I swung the car around and drove back to where I'd seen the mirage. Pulling onto the shoulder of the busy highway (but at a safe distance from traffic, Mom!), we scanned the ditch to discover not one, not two, not three, but EIGHT Limpkins hunting for snails:

Yay, Limpkin!

Thus, I say Karma is not a Bitch, Karma is a Gentle Grandfather, looking over your shoulder, and giving you a nice piece of candy when you do the right thing.

Otherwise, the past few days have included a number of amusing people encounters(**), and birds such as Northern Parula and Lesser Black-backed Gull. Tomorrow, our destination is the famous Audubon Corkscrew Swamp Preserve, and maybe Sanibel Island in the afternoon.

Good shelling,
Me


(*) The Limpkin has a distinctive scream and stars in several movies, including "The Incredibles" and "Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban".

(**) People encounters!
From the "Boys Will Be Boys" department, overheard at breakfast at our hotel:

Boy, about 7-8 years old: "Dad, are we really going to the aquarium?" (I suspect they were going here)
Dad: "Yes, son."
Boy: "I hope we see a shark."
Dad: "Uh, we probably will."
Boy: "If we see a shark, I'm going to punch it in the eye! And then turn it on its back and punch it in the belly!"

From the "Girls Will Be Girls" department, overheard as two teen-age girls rode by us on bikes later in the day:

Girl 1: "I really like that hat you bought."
Girl 2: "I know! It has tassles! And they're gold! And sparkly! Isn't it amazing?!?!?!"

Florida, 30 hours in

Dear Parrotheads,

Hola from Homestead, Florida! We've been on the ground here for just about 30 hours, and have already seen 19 new bird for the year, out of 65 total species. Oh, and we also did interviews for our Global Entry permits and of course had some interesting encounters with Floridians.

Some "quirks" we noticed just last night include:

• They love their car horns, and so use them frequently. I haven't heard so many horns in a month of Bay Area traffic.
• In a parking lot of one-way lanes, parking backwards is apparently A Thing. Imagine your favorite grocery store parking lot, with each lane headed a single direction and parking stalls angled toward traffic. Now, imagine driving past a spot, and then backing into (and making traffic behind you wait) it so you're facing the wrong direction. We saw this three times in two hours. Why do they do it? Because, Florida!
• They don't seem to realize that since LeBron James is no longer with the Miami Heat, the Heat are terrible. We went to a Homestead pub last night for dinner, and the place was packed with Heat fans watching that night's game. The Crown Jewel of Heat fans sat near us, wearing his white Heat hat and white jersey, with ragged white shorts and white hi-tops. The Heat have a player nicknamed "The Birdman", and every time he touched the ball, SuperFan shouted, "BiiiirrrdddMannnnn!" and then attempted to coo like a dove. It was amusing for the first 5 minutes, less so throughout the next hour. Seriously, take the guy from Offspring's Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) video, add 25 lbs and a few years, and that's SuperFan.

For more on South Florida and its denizens, I recommend books by Carl Hiassen. We've read a few and they're highly entertaining.

The birds have been great, too. 

Apparently, Black Vultures have a thing for rubber, so frequent visitors to the Everglades put tarps on their cars, which appears to just attract the vultures:

Sometimes the herons bite off a little more than they can chew:

Highlight of today was staying after dark in Everglades, getting to hear a Chuck-wills-widow call while watching fireflies flash about! Of course, while slapping at bugs that apparently eat DEET for lunch.

Down to the Keys tomorrow! 

Good birding, 

Me

A Field Trip, Latinos Invade California, and a Curse

To my little Ducklings,

Saturday afternoon, we decided to go on an adventure.

A Latino bird, the (unfortunately named[*]) Brown Booby had been reported on outer Point Reyes. In fact, three had been seen, which is unusual because Boobies don't normally appear in sets of three. Seriously. Usually only one shows itself at a time. Seriously.

I say Latino because they are generally found only off the coasts of Central and South America, and the Caribbean. Why they occasionally show up in the US is somewhat unknown. Could they have flown up for lunch? Could these three be university students who came north for their Spring Break?

However, as we were about to depart, our progress was halted in its tracks by a visit to our feeder from a part-time Latino, this one a winter resident of Mexico:

Geeks will note the notched tail features that confirm his identification.

This Rufous Hummingbird is commuting north to somewhere between northern Oregon and Alaska, where they breed in the summer, before returning to Mexico for winter. Amazingly, this bird weighing no more than a nickel flies as far as 3,900 miles twice each year.

This Lothario had a lady "friend" with him:

"Damn, girl, why you gotta hang over my shoulder like that? Can't you see I'm busy drinking all this fine, fine nectar?"

Happy to get a surprise new year bird, we launched our trek to Point Reyes. Now, preparation is a hallmark of a successful trek, and I consider myself an expert in hallmarks. So, you can imagine my consternation when, after nearly two hours of driving, we encountered first a sign reading, "Road closed ahead" and then "All visitors must use shuttle". Arg--public transport? Really?

Teeth grit, more than slightly annoyed at having to pay $7/person for the right to ride a shuttle, we boarded the bus that would take us to the trailhead.

One of the first things we noticed along the walk to Chimney Rock was that many visitors to Point Reyes are apparently illiterate:

The dots at the top are some of the many people who must lead sad lives, being unable to read or comprehend. They must be friends with the people who let their dogs run free on trails with, "No dogs allowed" or "Dogs must be on leash" signs.

Fortunately for us, our target was hanging out on the rocks, preening his feathers for that oh-so-sexy look that will win the hearts of las chicas caliente:

As we returned near sunset to catch the last bus back, the winds picked up and several birds took advantage of the uplift to lazily circle overhead. Unfortunately, we counted exactly 13 vultures circling above us; of course, a typical group of circling vultures is called a "Kettle", but a group of exactly 13 vultures is called a "Curse" and is generally considered bad luck.

Maybe we are OK, as nothing awful has happened. Yet. Stay vigilant, mis amigos.

Later this week, we journey to Florida for a rapid-fire trip around south Florida. Expect the next post late this week, and full of rum-fueled creativity.

Adios,
Me

[*] By the way, since I was curious, I looked up the origin of the name. Wikipedia offers this :

Their name was possibly based on the Spanish slang term bobo, meaning "stupid",as these tame birds had a habit of landing on board sailing ships, where they were easily captured and eaten.

A Letter of Love Lost

Dear, Dear Pixley,

Our first day together began with such promise, assuredly it would bloom into a long and passionate relationship. And when skies darkened and your family forced us apart for the night, I still hoped, believed, trusted that our meeting on the 'morrow would be fruitful. Sadly, I found my affections unrequited. This letter, then, is my bravest attempt to express both the depth of my feelings, and also why we must never meet again.

You see, I had no intentions of visiting before the past weekend. I was just a man, sitting in a trailer, contemplating how to get home. You came into my life with the report that a Ruff had been sighted, one of only two currently in the United States. Only a few hours away, I had to take the chance that you could help me find this Ruff.

Pixley. How could one not be enamored of "Pixley", name evocative of fairies floating through verdant glens? And at first sight, I was smitten by your charm...a diamond in the rough, with a Ruff.

We walked together as the sun warmed our cold bones, and it was glorious. Yet, there was not a Ruff to be seen, while clouds blackened the horizon and thunder grumbled in the distance. We retreated to a dry lodging, to await the passing of the tempest.

Good night, good night, sunshine! Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Pour, pour from the skies, yet thou shalt not dampen the ardor of infatuation!

With the passing of the rains, we visited again, strolled through the dampened grasses, and yet, still, nary a Ruff.

As the curtain of night fell, and fearing that your caretakers would object to our presence, discretion guided us apart. I drove a few miles away, parking as close as I could, and even bearing the rattle of trains and rumble of trucks near a freeway, so as to reunite as quickly as possible.

And, yet, rising on the next cold Central Valley morning, you greeted me with this:

Pixley, how could you? You know how I valued the Ruff, and you still fogged so thick, even the brightness of my affections could not pierce it.

And, still we tried again. Walking and walking, pace quickening as Desperation pursued.

Finally, after seemingly endless time together, here is the Ruff fruit from your cornucopia of birds:

And, that, my dearest Pixley, is why we likely shall never cross paths again.

Me

The Best Place You Can Go to Escape a Manhunt

Hello, girls and boys,

Returning from the Salton Sea, we took a detour to the Carrizo Plain National Monument, another amazing part of California that’s unknown to most people.

The plain is a valley at 2000’, surrounded by mountains 3000’ tall or higher, sort of between Bakersfield and San Luis Obispo. Directions from Napa:

1. Find your way to Stockton, where they fight over spinach and as of 2012, was the largest city in the US to file for bankruptcy. Yay, Stockton!
2. Head south to Manteca, which is Spanish for "lard" (I'm seriously not kidding).
3. Keep going through Los Banos, and don't forget to flush.
4. Don't get lost in the Lost Hills, named thusly although they are clearly labeled on a map.
5. Head west at the cutely named Buttonwillow, home of the Buttonwillow Raceway, which hosts races and is used by manufacturers and race teams to test cars.
6. Wind through oil fields. Who needs Saudi Arabia when you've got the Central Valley?
7. West past McKittrick, climb 3000' on a windy road, then descend 1000', past the new solar farm, which I'm sure won't burn as many birds as other, similar farms.

You're there! Carrizo Plain National Monument, the largest native grassland left in California.

If you’re planning an upcoming vacation, you might consider the Carrizo Plain. Here are some arguments both Pro and Con. 

Why The Carrizo Plain Should Be Your Next Vacation Destination

• Wide open views and amazing scenery!

• Get up close and personal with the San Andreas Fault! In the picture above, the hill on the far right, along the horizon, is the SAF.
• You can unplug and unwind, because your cell phone doesn’t work!
• Wildlife! Prancing antelope, bounding bunnies, soaring eagles, maybe a snake or two. Probably not poisonous. Probably.
• Peace, quiet, and solitude because there isn't a WalMart or gas station or restaurant for miles!
• Free camping!

Why You Should NOT Vacation at Carrizo

• Wide open views? Can you say "agoraphobia"?
• San Andreas Fault? It could go any minute, and you'd be on the part of California that slides into the ocean. Or you'd fall into the center of the Earth. One of the two.
• Cell phone doesn’t work? Human can not live without instant sports scores or cute kitties at their fingertips. 
• Wildlife? There are probably snakes AND spiders. And they're probably poisonous. Probably.
• No services for miles? How do I get my Diet Coke fix?
• Oh, and did I mention that roads are impassable when wet (we had 0.25" of rain one night and our 4-wheel drive slid around the next morning just like Bambi on ice). So, you don’t want to go in the winter or spring. And it gets super hot, so you don’t want to go in the summer or fall. 

I hope this helps you plan your next outing.

Peace out,
Me

I've got some beachfront property to sell you

Fans and Fannettes,

With much fanfare, we have returned triumphantly from a long road trip that did not involve accidents, food poisoning, or vandalism committed (at least, not that we remember). It did involve a business trip, chasing birds we did not find (and a few we did), and a few broken parts on the trailer, but all is well.

Our destination? The Salton Sea. Why? She had a business meeting there. Why? Because, Salton Sea! So, rather than be efficient and fly, we did the crazy thing by driving 10 hours there and camping in our Airstream trailer. Because, road trip!

The Salton Sea is one of the most fascinating, most disturbing, and least known places in California. It was formed about 110 years ago when some engineers said, "Hey, it's too dry in this desert. Why don't we reroute the Colorado River to get some water for our crops?" So, they cut a little hole in the bank of the Colorado, which said, "Ouch! That hurt, stop messing with me! I'll show you..." and proceeded to divert the entire river's outflow into the valley for 2 years before the Engineers could stop it. 

Geologic records show that the Colorado would get cranky every few hundred years and do this anyway, sometimes to a much greater degree. Moral of the story: Don't live in a valley that's nearly 300 feet below sea level.

Anyway, thanks to that little incident, we have this:

So, years pass uneventfully, when sometime in the '50s somebody thought, "Hey, there's a giant lake, an hour east of Palm Springs, in a sunny, dry climate, with no houses! And <gasp> no resorts or timeshares! What a travesty!" And, of course, if you build it, they will come!

To fill this vacuum, huge swaths of lakeshore were bulldozed and concreted into the shape of neighborhoods and resorts, and many lots and timeshares came for sale. Hollywood celebrities flocked there! It was Partyville, USA!

However, over time, the lake built up salinity and suffered from numerous fish die-offs, so wasn’t quite as appealing.

What, you'd prefer the Pacific's driftwood and majestic crashing waves, or Tahoe's pristine crystal blue? Where's your sense of adventure???

Today, you can still buy lots, land and homes, if you want:

But very few people do (note that prices are for lots or homes, and are in the THOUSANDS):

Yes, you, I mean YOU can be the proud owner of a 2 bed, 1 bath home near a lake for less than $2,000. Or not...

Over time, entropy and apathy won out:

Unfortunately for the lake and its inhabitants of all species, the pace of change is about to increase. Due to water use policy changes that are set to go into effect in 2017, more water will be diverted to human uses, and much less to the lake. It’s expected to shrink in area by 30% in the next 30 years, so that “lake front property” could be a mile or more away from the water.

As this occurs, salinity will increase to the point that most organisms can’t live in it. That’s bad news for the millions of birds that are resident or fly by the sea during their migration, as well as for the fish and other critters currently in the water.

For more on the Salton Sea, check out the excellent documentary, "Plagues & Pleasures on the Salton Sea," narrated by John Waters. The trailer is on YouTube, and the video is available on NetFlix. There is a good episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations where he visits the Sea, probably also on Netflix. 

In case you didn't believe me...

...that on our pelagic trip, the tiny ship was tossed, here's some video proof:

We're just back from a week-long trip into Southern California. Turns out, Mr. Verizon Guy, no, I can't hear you now! Most of the places we stayed had terrible cell/data coverage, hence the absence of blog posts. However, all is good now, so you can expect some updates soon!