Cool rain driven by warm wind and a thunderstorm on the backside of Mount Tam. As I made way back down the hill, I was struck by a scene that looked as if the ridge was on fire.
Emily and I embarked on an urban hike for our Labor Day holiday. She is breathtaking to the last.
In Mendocino for an overnight vacation to prep for a tough week ahead.
Emily’s mom was excited when she heard where we were. “That’s where Murder She Wrote was filmed,” she said. Her mom’s percpetion is clearly rooted in the sunshiny TV scenes of the lovely Angela Lansbury running around this town solving murders.
Meanwhile, on this moody, gray day, I’m keeping a vigilante eye on the sky above for vampires.
Mendocino, CA. - 1968 Barracuda with two beach chairs in the back. ‘Nuf said.
Emily and I at Drake’s Estero in Point Reyes. If you have the opportunity, I can’t recommend this area of Northern California enough. So much beauty, so much history.
Emily took me swimming to Eastbury Pond in Connecticut. I felt like totally East Coast. And then the Good Humor ice cream truck came buy, and I was fourteen again. Am munching on my favorite flavor, the chocolate chip sandwich cookie.
These last five days I looked at the scene above while drinking my morning coffee. Now that I’m back home, my transition back to reality is proving to be tougher than anticipated. Have decided to ignore reality for a few more days, and dream of where I just was.
Lake Shasta dam, close to the edge. The image doesn’t remotely capture the grandeur that you feel when you walk across this marvel of human engineering.
Daybreak, highway 505. On the way to Lake Shasta. When I arrive there a speedboat will whisk me out to a houseboat of booze and debauchery.
A picture of the shadow of me shooting a picture under a freeway. I feel like I’m a Banksy painting.
Traveled from the rocky jetties of Morro Bay to the stunning plains of Lake Laguna in just under fifteen minutes. Two very distinct climates on the same day just a stones throw away from each other.
Rich and Mike from Swami Gone Bananas playing Riders on the Storm at The Northside Tavern in Atlanta.
I love a good saloon.
Thirty-thousand feet looks stunning when the light hits it just right.