Memorial Day Weekend took me on a road trip to the 4 corners area of the southwest. A friend of mine has a small shack out in the weeds of New Mexico. It’s a perfect local for camping, hiking, and general relaxation. As the Chinese proverb goes, “The journey is the reward”. The trip there and back included Chaco Canyon National Park, The Hover Dam, Monument Valley, The Grand Canyon, and Route 66. Good Times.

This one’s form my trip to London last year. I walked past this place twice a day for nearly a week and never once saw it open for business. I wish it was though. Everything I ate in the U.K. (with the exception of one meal that was hands down the best Thai food I’ve ever had) was awful….

Over the long weekend, a friend and I took a day trip south of the border looking for a surf. We were trying to escape the massive crowds that seem to accompany any swell of merit in Southern California these days. I’ve been a bit apprehensive about traveling in Baja lately, what with all the drug war related violence that’s been occurring in recent months. (there were over 5000 murders in Baja California in 2008) Tensions were definitely high in the border region. Armed federal troops and checkpoints have been ubiquitous in Baja for as long as I can remember. But, this was the first time I’ve seen them in kevlar helmets and body armor, totting heavy machine guns. Add to that the burned out, impoverished, desert landscape of Tijuana, and the whole scene was reminiscent of Iraq footage. We even passed a convoy of Humvees packed with masked soldiers and sporting 50 caliber, belt fed, automatic weapons.
As unnerving as all the militarism was, the ride down Mexico Hwy 1 was a quick reminder of how much I love Baja. Our neighbor to the south is indeed a land of extremes. The religious symbols were bigger,

sun felt hotter, the off shore winds blew harder, and the surf was way heavier.

After a bit of searching and checking spots, we ended up paddling out at K38’s. For one of Northern Baja’s best know surf spots, it was amazingly uncrowned. What little crowd there was in the line up seemed to be made up mostly of locals. A wave of this size and quality back home would easily have 80 to 100 guys on it, but at most, we shared the break with 20 other surfers.

After a morning of solid overhead surf, I was more then ready for a Tecate and some fish tacos. Beer battered, fried fish tacos are quite possibly Baja California’s greatest contribution to modern society. No matter what any San Diego taqueria might have to say about authenticity, there’s no substitute for the real thing; and the propane powered shack overlooking the surf, with it’s homemade tortillas and salsa, did not disappoint.

After lunch, it was back on the 1, headed north to Tijuana and the border. Homeland Security now requires passports to cross from Mexico, but the border wait, which can often top 3 hours on the weekend, was a breeze. 45 minutes after getting in line we were back in the good ole USA, cruzing up the 5 headed home.

I climbed Mount Whitney a few weeks ago. The trek was hands down the most physically demanding hike I have ever undertaken. Mount Whitney is the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states with a summit reaching 14565 feet into the clouds. Our group of 11 started the excursion at Whitney Portal, elevation 8000 feet, in the blackness of 3am. After about 3 hours of hiking by moonlight, we were treated to sunrise at Trail Camp around 12,000 feet with the summit in view. The climb gets exponentially more difficult the higher you go. At this point, 1 member of our group had already turned back. The thin air is only half the challenge as the trail gets significantly steeper and more covered with snow and ice. The next 2500 feet demanded 6 hours of climbing a steep slippery, switched-back trail through a treeless, lunar landscape. At times, precipices of many hundreds of feet abutted the trail. Our team had splintered into groups of 2 or 3, each moving at their own pace. Nearing the summit, each step became a trial in endurance. My head throbbed from lack of oxygen. 9 hours after beginning the climb we reached the peak. While the excitement and sense of accomplishment were quite rewarding, and the views spectacular, the knowledge that I had 11 miles of hiking before I was done dampened the thrill a bit. The thin air plays tricks on the mind. I misspelled my own name trying to sign the summit log. After a subdued celebration, it was time to start the long climb down. Having gravity on your side makes the hiking go faster, but the lengthening shadows turned much of the snow covering the upper portion of the trail know as “99 switch backs” to hard, slick ice. A fall at this point could have easily been fatal, so the going was slow. At 7:30 pm, our endeavor ended as it had started, in the dark. We had hiked 22 miles in 17 ½ hours covering 15000 feet in elevation change. 8 of our original 11 made the trip to the summit and back. After dinner and a beer, I slept the whole drive home. The next day, I was off to San Jose to continue photography on the Blood Work tattoo book project.