5.17.98

    Cooper Canyon Falls has thwarted us again. We set out this morning armed with water, cold chicken, potato-wedges, ribs, camera and band-aids (hey, you never know). This time I checked and double-checked the route we were to go. It was quite a ways away. When we got to the foothills we still had about fifty miles of winding road to get up to the trail.

    Apparently, there was some sort of streetbike meet up on the top of the mountain. All the way up we were assaulted by these multi-colored crotch rockets. Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki. They buzzed around like hornets and took corners at break-neck speed, leaning far over and stretching one knee out and close to the ground.

    The drive up was quite lovely, though. The area where we were (Highway 2 into the San Gabriel Mountains) was much greener than our last hike and there was much more snow scattered around. The elevation was a little more extreme; we finally stopped at 6000 feet. We unintentionally passed the campground which served as entrance to the trail and tried a different route. Unfortunately there was too much watery snow and our feet were wet before going thirty yards. So we turned around and went looking for the proper trail.

    Turns out that the campground, Buckhorn, was closed and the entrance was piled up with snow thus the reason we missed it. It looked like there were a few people thwarted that day. What was charmingly odd were the families gathered along the laybys (turnouts) with their kids in snowsuits playing in the ever-dwindling snow banks. A few even had those plastic saucers to slide down the pathetic slush. It kind of depressed me.

    Not to be daunted we stopped at a place that looked promising for a picnic and grubbed. We wandered around a little bit and got a miles and miles view. The sky was beautiful and the temperature was perfect. We climbed around on rocks and chucked pinecones and dipped our fingers in a meandering ice-cold stream. T. cut his finger on a pinecone so I was forced to display my penchant for over-planning by dramatically producing a Band-Aide®. T. accused me of being happy he was injured. Saw some bunny tracks in the snow. Disappointed to see litter: beer cans, bottles, plastic bags, candy wrappers, a tire. I bet this is a great place for teenagers living in the foothills to party.

    We ran most of the way back up to where we were parked and were totally out of breath. Yeah, we're not in the best shape but it's more the thin mountain air. Exercise forces you to take big gulps of it. Yummy.

    On the way down the mountain T. and I sang all the songs we could think of. Unfortunately, we only know, like, one verse of each one. So, basically, we were a cacophony of horrible, horrifying sounds. I love him a lot.

    We took naps and then had a lovely dinner and watched season finales all around. I don't know what I think about the X-Files season finale. How can they possibly wrap-up everything in one movie? I have so many questions. What about the black goo? Is Mulder really Cancer Man's son? Is Scully completely cured? What about Mulder's sister? What the heck is that chess kid going to do in the movie? And, dammit, does Kruyczech (sp?) have a fake arm, or what?

    On Saturday we wandered around the trendoid art and furniture shops in the cluster between Melrose and Beverly on Robertson. We went into Diva and swallowed our tongues at the furniture prices. Some of their stuff was fun, 70s, "Meet George Jetson" kind of stuff but a lot of looked liked it belonged in a trendoid hair salon. We also popped into a paper store (Soolip Paper) and I decided spur of the moment to ask about wedding invitations. Their invitations were, of course, beautiful and priceless. Well, of course, there is always a price and our quote was $1,500. Tongue's firmly swallowed we headed home.

    T. bought The English Patient so we watched that and I made a decent dinner of sauteed chicken breasts. Someone said in their journal (and I honestly can't remember who) that the movie makes you ask your S.O. if they would walk three miles in the desert for you. I asked T. and his emphatic reply was "Yes." Whew! I was a bit worried there.