Nomadic 2005 ‐ Welcome to the Jungle

2005-10-15

Los Angeles, CaliforniaAfter weeks of cruising down nameless backcountry roads with nary another car in sight, five lanes of stand-still traffic hurts.

It's been a little while since I've seen the inside of a church. So I pushed a little harder than usual to get to LA in time for service. I laundered my clothes today, but I'm still dressed more properly for a homeless mission than a congregational church service.

All across the country there are Christian radio stations--you can usually tune in two or three from any given spot (except Yellowstone, where you are lucky to get two or three stations at all). Okay, technically, I'm not sure if I ever came across a "Christian" radio station. Instead I listened to such as "Modern Positive Alternative" and "Family Safe Radio"

and "Positive, Encouraging" and "Fresh Hope for a Stale World." To be fare, at least twenty-five percent off the songs mention Jesus. Another fifty percent are vague enough concerning their subject god that you can apply them to the deity of your choice. And the remaining songs simply require a degree in Applied Symbology to determine what, if anything, they have to do with religion.

Speaking of radio, if I ever undertake another cross-country journey, I AM going to invest in XM Radio. This is getting old:

Announcer: Here's another question for our guest, Doctor Smith. What [some interesting question]?

Dr Smith: That's an interesting question. Well, first of all *crackle crackly static k k k k* and, of course *spif spif crack crackle*

Announcer: Fascinating

Anyway...

After getting myself to Napa and through to San Jose, I spent the rest of the day on 101 navigating my way to Los Angeles. Traveling down the West coast offers interesting transitions: Big conifers to small ones to really big ones to broad-leafs to grapes back to conifers and finally to shrubs. The coastal terrain never varies much: beach, steep cliff, hills/mountains. One finds plenty of opportunities to decide between downshifting and brakes--ah, the sweet acrid aroma of burning pads.

There are a lot of people who bike and backpack up and down this coast via 1 and 101. In the past, I considered such a trip. After driving it, I shall opt out. There are just too many cars on too many narrow, winding roads. (However, I once read of a 99% dirt route running from Montana to New Mexico...)