I spent the weekend in Clairemont, Caifornia (east of Los Angeles) for some much-needed Recharge-the-Batteries-By-Playing-in-the-Snow time. There is a ski lift atop Mt. Baldy, hiking trails, waterfalls, pine trees, craggy cliffs and dozens of switchbacks. Mountains and snow at 10,000 feet + sun dresses and orange trees at sea level= everything that I could ever want in life and more.
Driving up the mountain...cacti and snow
The city of Whoville [Clairemont] far below the gorgeous mountains
The one totally bizarre thing that Californians do is they fill up their trucks with snow before leaving the ski area.
Then they drive down the mountain with snow on the roofs of their cars. This is a ritual that I do not understand.
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Here's a story I've never told anyone...
The last time I was in Claremont, I ventured up into those very same snowy passes with my Dad. We stopped for cider on the way up, and met an enormous lumberjack-style character, who told us of his experiences learning to ski on the double-black slopes up above... TOTALLY wasted on moonshine at age 15. He still makes moonshine, and carries water from his artesian well down into the valley in an effort to convince friends to move up into the mountains with him. Maybe this is something like that? Maybe we could track him down and have him explain?
(In addition to helping us decode this mystery, my Lumberjackian friend also inspired me to go out and buy that red flannel you saw me sporting in Lake Placid.)
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