Los Prietos Campground – Los Padres National Forest August 27, 2018 –
We arrived shortly after three in the afternoon turning into a dusty path that was unpaved and rocky. The place was desolate as there were maybe two other campers with their tents pitched, but without any cars. “They must have gone down to the river that was nearby.” I thought to myself.
Before we got there, we stopped in Summerland as part of our normal tradition when traveling north to El Capitan state beach. But our normal spot, a local market with outdoor seating, was closed down. It was disappointing not being able to pick up some sandwiches at their deli for lunch. Immediately the Amtrak trains’ whistle blew long and without warning, and it jogged Tobi’s memory, “I know where we are! I remember this place!” she shouted with her eyebrows raised high on her forehead. “I know where we are! I remember now.” She continued after clapping her hands and pointing towards the sound of the train that quickly passed by along the Pacific Ocean.
The website said it was sold out?
Later as we approached our campsite at Los Prieto’s campgrounds we were aware of the void; no animals stirred except for a few Ravens that walked around a water faucet next to a tent that was well established. I had my daughter turn off her phone and the music in the car so we could listen to the sound of nothing: the beautiful sound of the earth and nature. After a few minutes of absolutely no noise, Tobia said,
“Mom, it’s weird here. Do we have to stay? I don’t like it. I miss June Lake.” she sighed. We got out of the car and surveyed our spot and found that it was larger than any camping area we’ve been to. I was glad to get out and stretch my legs and said,
“Yeah, let’s just pitch for the night. If we don’t like it, we’ll go up to El Capitan and see if they have an opening for tomorrow.”
I asked “Hey how come there are steps that lead to nowhere?”
She carried the red cooler up to the stone bench and said, “I don’t know mom.”
“Do you think there was a house here before? These are not steps made of rocks, but of stone precisely set in the ground.”
“I don’t know Mom” she replied with the second load of camping gear as she walked on the stone steps that lead to our camping site.
Santa Ynez River - that wasn’t there
After pitching our tent and eating, we organized our things and decided to find the nearby river, down the same empty road that continued into a valley. The late afternoon sun was intense beaming down without mercy as it hovered above the nearby hills. It was close to dusk as the brilliant waves of light cast a beautiful yellow glow around the multitude of Oak and Elm trees in this wilderness. Finally, we made it to the river according to my GPS, but there was nothing so we circled back to the road. We paused in front of a Ranger Station and signaled an approaching government truck to ask for directions. A seal that read, Department of Forestry was marked on the driver’s door. The Ford F-250 Super Duty had a woman driver and 2 men sitting in the cab. She was sun-bleached with dark glasses and her face cracked open where her mouth was and said, “Howdy.” I asked her politely, “Excuse me but where is the River that is supposed to be nearby?” The blonde woman next to the Latin men replied in a slow voice, “Well, that’s the blah blah Ynez River down there where you just came from.” I continued with, “There is no river down there. There is no water.” “She smiled behind her dark shades as the sun beamed directly into her face and said, “Well, there is a little water if you just go down there you’ll see it.” The passengers within her cab stirred with humorous sounds that typically are prompted by an inside joke. I thanked her in my white voice and turned my vehicle around to travel down the one-way road with Tobia. There was nothing here and we knew that the promise of water in a dusty land was gone. An empty riverbed cracked throughout from the scorching sun's heat was all that remained. Within the dried mud were impressions of footsteps that looked like hammer shoes instead of footprints. They were about 5 inches deep but had no footprints or shoe prints; not an animal with hooves or paws. These impressions were strong, solid, and deep in the dried-up river bed floor that only something with above 80 kilos in weight could have made. There were tall dead reeds that hugged the path where the water would have been, with a few boulders scattered here and there. We stopped on the single-car road so she could get out and take photos. Except for a westerly hot wind that blew Tobi’s hair into her beautiful face; nothing seemed to be alive here. My daughter said, “That bitch lied. There’s no river here. There’s no water. What the fuck was that?”
“Hey watch your mouth! But you’re right. That fucken ass lied! As we both fell out laughing at the profanity so openly expressed; without losing focus of the topic. I don’t understand why she wanted us to go back to check if there was water here? What a weirdo.” I said to Tobi while surveying the dry river. “Yeah Mom, like I said, this place is weird. I miss June Lake. Do we have to go back?” she asked.
Joyfully Tobi put on some dumb rap music…and I let her relish her stupid songs. We blasted her music as we meandered through the abandoned road that led us back to highway 154 and the noise of the City. I told her, “Turn that shit music off. Find something else.”
Tobi laughed and found, “The Animals, and The Door’s” as we continued to climb our way back out of the valley; that took a 7% downgrade for 8 miles of twisting mountain roads back to Santa Barbara. I thought about what I read the night before that was in 2nd Kings Chapter 20:9 that troubled me. This verse says that the Sun had set twice in one day. The year was 705 BC and many ancient texts, especially the Chinese and Greeks have recorded this phenomenon. How can the Sun set twice in one day I thought to myself through the turns downhill. Highway signs that reminded us: ‘Turn your lights on’ which is common in California mountains, blurred by. When I researched stories of antiquity I found that a Native Americans, Chinese, modern-day Iranians, those in Saudi Arabia, the Incas and their cousins the Mayans have the same writings when the Sun set twice in one day! How can anyone believe this? Even though ancient history recorded it?
The Winding Road to Familiar Distractions - Thoughts from the night before
We were coming down fast curving left and Tobi looked out 1000 feet above sea level along the Santa Barbara Mountains as we abruptly parked off the road. The Turnout offered a striking view to pull over and take a photo of the Pacific Ocean. Still, I thought as we looked at the city below,
“From 705 BC the calendar had 360 days that showed the revolution of 1 year from season to season. Because this crazy thing happened in our solar system when a man…a human being spoke to a King and told him he would surely die: Mut, mut. That King: Hezekiah cried bitterly to God and reminded God of the Abraham Covenant. Then Samuel was told by God, “Go back to King Hezekiah and ask him to tell me something impossible that you want me to do? This part of the original text in Hebrew and the Septuagint is not clear. But a deal/covenant was made between this King Hezekiah and God with Samuel the prophet as the bridge. So Samuel went back and asked the King, a riddle. Something that puzzled me.”
She put on John Mellencamp, “Jack and Diane” as we climbed back into the car to finish driving down Highway 154 and I was thankful. Because I was mentally tired trying to figure out how the Sun could set 2 times in 1 day. I looked over at my teenage daughter sitting next to me and I was thankful she was riding shotgun.
The bridge to the song came around as the sign at the end of the mountain road said, “Check your headlights” the cue to turn off your daytime lights.
“Roses smell-like boo-boo, roses smell-like boo-boo…” blasted off my speakers as Tobi regressed back to the hypnotic melody of controlled airwaves. I sang with her because I knew the words to OutKast. Then I told her a story about who the singer was talking about. “Hey, do you know who Erykah Badu is? Watch out for the fakers in life. There are many posers.”
“No, I don’t know Erykah Badu, whoever that is.”
“That’s who this song was written about. She screwed him over the guy singing. Just like Fleetwood Mac, do you remember that song? No, you don’t actually…you know the song by the Eagles Witchy Woman?”
“Yeah, I know that song.”
“Yeah, the guy singing Hotel California? The lead singer? He’s talking about another singer from another musical group Fleetwood Mac. Who is a real witch. You better be careful when listening to this shit on the radio. These people are owned by the principalities of the airwaves or frequency. Be careful what you listen to. Don’t you know why music was created? It was created to worship God.”
Santa Barbara Surfers & Skate Culture
I found a parking spot next to the Pier and Tobia laughed in the car as I changed my shoes. “Mom, we look like homeless bums that live out of our car.” She smiled.
“Honey, this is not a homeless car. And we are not homeless. We are camping.”
She waved my words away with a splash of humorous laughter as we got out and walked northwest. It was now about 6:00 and I asked my youngest,
“What time is sunset? We need to get back before dark. It takes 30 minutes to drive back to camp. Let’s make this short. What do you want to do? Do you want to walk on the Pier?” I asked.
“No – I saw this surf shop to the left and I want to check it out.”
“OK. Let’s go”
As we walked arm in arm, laughing and talking about every/any/nothing, we came to the crosswalk with the streetlights.
“I hate her. Like I really don’t like her. I hate her vibe” Tobi said.
“Who? Who are you talking about?” I asked while looking down to inspect my pink toenails that were in desperate need of a pedicure.
“Her across the street. That bitch walking with those guys. I hate her.”
Through the crowd of people that walked along the street, I spotted the person my daughter was looking at. It was a young girl about Tobi’s age on a skateboard with about 3 male friends around the same age. She had her hand on the shoulder of one of the boys. The girl had on stretchy leggings that hugged all of her body from the waist down.
“Honey, you don’t even know her. Why are you mad?” I asked. The light turned green and we got the ‘hand sign you can walk now’ and moved in the direction of the girl that Tobia was mad about. I realized later as I normally do that my daughter is a Skater. She has fallen so many times off of her board. She has tried and failed, tried and failed, tried and made it. Whatever the ‘made it! got it!’ was on her skateboard. We have gone to skate shops and purchased boards, trucks, ball bearings, everything you need to know or have if you are serious about skateboarding. Countless times Tobia has asked me to drop her off at skate parks dominated by ‘boys only’ clubs. Yet here was my baby that would skate away from me when I would drop her off to go play with the boys. Every time she asked me,
“Can you drop me off at Eldo?”
Of course, my answer was yes – but with conditions.
Raising Kids to be Themselves - Skateboarding
“Did you eat? What did you eat? Did you drink water? Do you have water? How long are you going to skate? Who is going to be there? Do you have friends? Good friends? Are the skaters good to you because you’re probably the only girl there? Are there any weirdo molesters that watch you skate? Are there druggies there? Are your friend's druggies? Do you smoke weed at the park? Do you
