OnBlueUnderCanvas

For our second day in San Diego, Kyle suggested we explore the Mission Beach boardwalk. Mission Beach itself is a community built on a sandbar between the Pacific Ocean and Mission Bay. The boardwalk runs the length of the sandbar, about three and a half miles. Kyle lent us his truck to get to Mission Beach and a pair of bikes to take on the boardwalk. It was like staying at a luxury hotel where all the activities are free.

It took only fifteen minutes to drive to Mission Beach, but it took twice that to find a parking spot big enough for Kyle’s giant truck. Kirk, who normally drives a Jetta, decided against attempting to parallel park the monster. I agreed. We found some generous length of curb on a corner and eased right in. We lifted the bikes out of the back, navigated down a few back streets and spilled out onto the boardwalk. The sun gleamed off the ocean. Lazily, we began peddling. Up and down the path we rode, admiring the beach residences and checking out the tourists. Early afternoon we left the crowds on the boardwalk and turned inland to explore the bay. We cycled out onto a peninsula fringed with boat slips. Settling on a small arc of quiet sand, we ate our packed lunch watching moored sailboats bob in the blue shimmer.

Later on, we headed back to the house for some dinner and a change of clothes. Dan, a friend of ours from the waterski team and his roommate, Dimitri, said we should meet them out for drinks. The bar turned out to be one of those hole-in-the-wall looking places that seems to open up into the Silverdome when you get inside. All of us – friends, and friends of friends – drank merrily the night’s special, three dollar bottles of Rolling Rock. Kirk, the misfit, joyously drank his Captain & cokes. Our conversation was an animated one, owing to the fact that somehow, nearly a third of our number worked for the US Navy on a nuclear reactor. (Too many smart people with engineering degrees in one bar.) Naturally this led to ridiculous questions like, “Aren’t you worried you’re going to blow to smithereens at any second?” and hypothetical silliness, “Your children could be born glowing green with eleven toes.”

The hour turned from late to early, and we said goodnight to Dan, Dimitri and the rest. Kyle, Dana, Kirk and I went on to find our fourth meal. And thankfully, it wasn’t Taco Bell. Not a single fast-food joint was open. We walked for what seemed miles (probably a few blocks) and found a small Mexican place specializing in take-out. I know, hardly seems a far cry from Taco Bell, but oh, it was. I had a couple battered fish tacos, even better than the day’s before, and to the chagrin of everyone else, I could not stop raving about them. My perception of their greatness might have suffered a bit of merry inflation, but never you mind.

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Our third day was all about the outdoors. Sure, we were at the beach the day before, but the beach is easy. The outdoors demand some effort, some stamina. Physicality. What did we do? Hike a mountain. Cowles Mountain.

It was more of a hill than a mountain, and more of a walk than a hike, but I was huffing. I should grant myself some credit. At nearly 1600 feet, Cowles is the tallest peak in the city of San Diego.

After the hike, we stopped home for a bit of lunch and then it was off again on another adventure. It was low tide, perfect timing to explore the Point Loma tide pools.

We jumped rocks, poked at anemones and searched for the elusive starfish. The sun was setting, casting a rich golden hue on the landscape. So what do you want to do tonight guys? Kyle asked. I said, Eat chocolate cake.

Too wiped out to go out, Kyle, Kirk and I stayed in. Before we holed up however, we decided we needed to procure some provisions. In doing so, I had to make good on my one desire for the evening. At the grocery store we picked up brownie mix (not cake, but close) and some El Jimador to make margaritas. Odd pairing, I know. At home, I mixed the batter, Kyle mixed the margaritas and Kirk popped Superbad in the DVD player. We settled in for a cozy Friday night. ☼

Nearly three weeks we’ve been Down Under and not a word about it yet, I know. We’re having a great time, promise! Just a bit more about marvelous California, then we’ll fly across big ocean.

With four whole days left to spend in California, Kirk and I jumped on the Amtrak Pacific Surfliner heading south to San Diego to visit our friend Kyle. Kirk and Kyle were really good friends at MSU, and at one point, all three of us were actually on the waterski team together. This train ride was meant to be a good one, with the train running along the ocean most of the way. Literally, it did. Probably ninety percent of the time the tracks ran in the sand with ocean spray spattering the windows. It was a beautifully scenic trip. Gazing at each town we passed, my face up against the glass, my love affair with the coast grew and grew. “Oh I want to visit here! …and here, and here!” And then it would turn into “My parents should really retire here.” “Oh actually this place is better, definitely here!” And so forth. The two and half hour trip flew by.

Planning a trip to California? Definitely hop a ride on the Surfliner.

Kyle picked us up from the train station in downtown San Diego. We drove to the house he’s renting with his girlfriend Dana and another couple from State. A pool table and dart board occupied the dining room and a huge flat-screen TV, pair of couches and recliner sat in the livingroom. Make no mistake, this was no party house (although we did get a little rowdy one night.) This was a very nice pad with an in-ground pool, and spa bathtub. And this is where we’d be crashing for the next three nights. Sweet!

After getting the full tour, the four of us drove to Ocean Beach to get lunch. We ate burgers and fish tacos at a hoppin’ local bar, one of Kyle and Dana’s favorites. The mahi mahi tacos I ordered were fantastic. Kyle had to eat and run back to work, so Dana took us sightseeing along the coast and into the city. She then dropped us off at the renowned Balboa Park, 1200 acres of gardens, museums, performing art venues, and Spanish-Renaissance style buildings. Naturally any attraction that wasn’t outdoors cost to get in, so we stuck to admiring the facades and wandering through the flowers.

The sun now hanging low, Kirk and I had finally exhausted the gardens. A twenty minute walk brought us back downtown where we meandered the sidewalks in search of happy hour specials.

San Diego streets are named very simply. North-south streets are numbered, and east-west streets are lettered. I’m at the corner of 8th and D street. Pretty easy. Boring though. Some pride should be taken in the mastery of your city’s geography. In Chicago, I can pretty much name every major east-west street from Madison St. in the loop up to Davis St. in Evanston. It’s cool to be able to help out a newcomer in the area and give directions. Plus, a real street name – Addison – has character. You mention Addison to anyone in Chicago and immediately visions of Wrigley Field and thousands of Cubs fans adds life to the moniker.

From D to C to B we walked, and happened upon the outgoing Bare Back Grill.  Besides $3 drafts and half off appetizers, they had $2 wheelspins. Pay two bucks to spin the Wheel of Drinks and get anything from three shots of tequila to a pitcher of beer. The fun didn’t stop there. You could play games too. Mini versions of Scrabble, checkers, chess, and Jenga sat on every tabletop.

After finishing work, Kyle and Dana joined us for a basket of onion rings and a handful of wheelspins, while Kirk and I finished up our epic battle of Jenga. Not realizing it when we picked the place, the Bare Back Grill was actually a New Zealand bar. Rugby jerseys and kiwi bird figures adorned the walls. My chest did that little nostalgic swell you feel when you’re reconnected with a place to which you’ve dedicated a piece of your heart to. Ah Kiwis.

Not wanting to break the bank at the bar, the four of us went home to eat a late dinner. We picked up a gloriously large pizza from just down the street. It was a whopping 36″ across, Kirk had to turn it sideways to fit it through the front door! After eating ourselves into a mild food coma, we decided to call it a night. We had three more fun-filled days to look forward to in San Diego. ☼

To give you a geographical idea of our travels, we put together a Google map. Click on the blue place marker to read about the stops we made.

We spent two weeks traveling around California seeing old friends and exploring a state that we had previously only flown through on our way to the other side of the world. With Kelly along for the first week we rented a car to drive north up the coast to visit Julie and see San Francisco. The second week Kirk and I took the Amtrak Surfliner south to visit Kyle and see San Diego. In between we crashed at Kirk’s friend Brandon’s (& Brendon’s) apartment in Huntington Beach. Cheers, guys. ☼

Zoom in and click on the blue place markers to read more about the stops along our trip.

It was a lovely Sunday morning, right around 8 o’clock, and Brandon Rau was up and at ‘em. “Come on,” he prodded. We were going winching.

So what is winching? In this case, winching is wakeskating (or wakeboarding) without a boat. The winch pulls the wakeskater a certain distance over water. A river, stream, pond, waterfall… any pool of water. To dissect it further, this is the definition of a winch itself:

winch [noun] : a hauling device consisting of a rope, cable, or chain winding around a horizontal rotating drum, turned by a crank or by motor or other power source.

Brandon loaded the winch into the back of the truck. We all piled in front. Wetsuits, wakeskates and skate shoes too. We headed for a spot called Gamblers. It consisted of a pair of reservoirs, the water levels of which are independently controlled and separated by a concrete barrier. On any given day, you never know what the water level might be. As such, there’s always the chance that the concrete gap might be too wide. In an instance like this, Gamblers would be unridable.

But today, we were lucky. A perfect gradient ran from the first reservoir to the second. The bright orange winch was rolled into place next to the lower, second reservoir. Reed, who was first up, hauled out a few hundred feet of line to his starting position at the first, higher reservoir, diagonally across from the winch.

In the mean time I was setting up the camera for high-speed shooting. Nine photos per second the 7D cranked out. In theory, I shouldn’t miss a shot. Reed started out. Click click click click click click! went the shutter. “Hey Kirk? I hope we have a few more memory cards!”

Turns out, we did. We shot nearly 300 photos of Reed and Brandon winching as well as some casual candids. After reviewing the photos, we decided to show you them a bit differently. Because the pictures were shot so quickly – at nearly the same rate as video – we decided to combine all of the pictures into a video slideshow. And there you have it: our day compressed down into a minute. At the end you’ll notice a couple extras shots of Kirk. Hope you like the show.

Winching from Lauren & Kirk on Vimeo.

Here are a handful of select photos from the day. Cheers to Kirk for editing them. ☼