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It was a slow Saturday shift at the office, and outside it was sunny and clear. To the north, the peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains jutted gloriously. And here I sat, bored, in my air-conditioned office building, wishing myself in those mountains or at the beach. Or maybe both.As a native Angeleno, I've bragged to East Coast friends that in Southern California, nature may give us fires and earthquakes, but it has also blessed us with the ability to enjoy mountains, desert and ocean all in one day.
That odd triathlon seemed to be the implied promise in KCAL nightly news anchor Jerry Dunphy's famed opener: "From the desert to the sea to all of Southern California, a good evening."
But I'd never tried to tackle the snow, desert and ocean in one day, nor had any of my friends. So I wondered, with millions of people crammed into the L.A. Basin and millions more expected, was it still possible?
I was determined to find out.
I planned the trip with one ground rule: I would experience each activity fully. An hour, minimum, at each.
I knew traffic would be an issue, so I left my West Hollywood home at 6 a.m.
Within seconds after I got into the car, the traffic report said the northbound Interstate 15 was closed near Victorville because of a fatal accident. Traffic was backed up to Bear Valley. Of course, the only freeway in all of L.A. County that was blocked was the one I needed.
At only 6:05 a.m., I was thumbing my Thomas Guide. Where is Bear Valley? How do I get around it?I decided to stick to my plan and hope for the best: take the 101 south to the 10 east to the 15 north, then backtrack west along the 2 to Mountain High, in the eastern San Gabriel Mountains. Mostly, I didn't want to waste time figuring out a better route.
I got lucky. I was on the 15 by 7 a.m., only six minutes after the California Highway Patrol reopened all lanes. Traffic was smooth and flowing.
Two hours after my departure, I pulled into Mountain High, which touts itself as the closest major ski resort to Los Angeles. I parked less than 100 feet from the nearest lift. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The slopes above looked treacherous with a thin layer of icy snow worn brown in patches. The sun was rising from behind the peaks, the temperature was in the low 50s and it would only get hotter. I decided to ski in a T-shirt. I got on my first lift about 9 a.m., 30 minutes after the resort's opening. Climbing higher on the lift, I felt the wind bite into me and regretted my cockiness
Headwall, an ultra-tough black diamond run, was not too icy, and it was empty. It was mine for the rest of the morning. A brief detour to Silver Springs, however, proved a bad idea. It was rocky, dirty, and precipitously icy.
"What are you up to?" a chair-lift operator asked.
"Skiing, hiking and surfing all in one day," I said. "You know, living the California dream."
"The California dream? The California dream is snowboarding, skateboarding and surfing," he said, whooping. "I did that." I felt reaffirmed.
Even with a snowfall of 124 inches, 100 inches more than last year, this was far from ideal skiing. But it was skiing. In March. In Southern California.
I got in 10 long runs by 11:30 a.m. And I was taking my time. At this rate, I'd be done with everything before sunset. I couldn't understand why more people didn't do this.
The plan was to get over to a High Desert hike next, then hit up some food during a rush-hour drive to the beach.
The two-lane Pearblossom Highway traces the southwestern end of the Mojave Desert, a landscape studded with Joshua trees and creosote bush interrupted occasionally by the blue waters of the California aqueduct. Postcard stuff, but not practical. For years it was known as Blood Alley because of the head-on collisions. I tested the name, zipping over to face oncoming cars to get past trailers and trucks ambling at desert tortoise pace.
Traffic finally picked up about 20 minutes later when I got on the Antelope Valley Freeway. I was hungry and had hoped for a Subway or In-N-Out for lunch but had no luck as I scanned the small scattering of fast-food signs along the way.
That odd triathlon seemed to be the implied promise in KCAL nightly news anchor Jerry Dunphy's famed opener: "From the desert to the sea to all of Southern California, a good evening."
But I'd never tried to tackle the snow, desert and ocean in one day, nor had any of my friends. So I wondered, with millions of people crammed into the L.A. Basin and millions more expected, was it still possible?
I was determined to find out.
I planned the trip with one ground rule: I would experience each activity fully. An hour, minimum, at each.
I knew traffic would be an issue, so I left my West Hollywood home at 6 a.m.
Within seconds after I got into the car, the traffic report said the northbound Interstate 15 was closed near Victorville because of a fatal accident. Traffic was backed up to Bear Valley. Of course, the only freeway in all of L.A. County that was blocked was the one I needed.
At only 6:05 a.m., I was thumbing my Thomas Guide. Where is Bear Valley? How do I get around it?I decided to stick to my plan and hope for the best: take the 101 south to the 10 east to the 15 north, then backtrack west along the 2 to Mountain High, in the eastern San Gabriel Mountains. Mostly, I didn't want to waste time figuring out a better route.
I got lucky. I was on the 15 by 7 a.m., only six minutes after the California Highway Patrol reopened all lanes. Traffic was smooth and flowing.
Two hours after my departure, I pulled into Mountain High, which touts itself as the closest major ski resort to Los Angeles. I parked less than 100 feet from the nearest lift. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The slopes above looked treacherous with a thin layer of icy snow worn brown in patches. The sun was rising from behind the peaks, the temperature was in the low 50s and it would only get hotter. I decided to ski in a T-shirt. I got on my first lift about 9 a.m., 30 minutes after the resort's opening. Climbing higher on the lift, I felt the wind bite into me and regretted my cockiness
Headwall, an ultra-tough black diamond run, was not too icy, and it was empty. It was mine for the rest of the morning. A brief detour to Silver Springs, however, proved a bad idea. It was rocky, dirty, and precipitously icy.
"What are you up to?" a chair-lift operator asked.
"Skiing, hiking and surfing all in one day," I said. "You know, living the California dream."
"The California dream? The California dream is snowboarding, skateboarding and surfing," he said, whooping. "I did that." I felt reaffirmed.
Even with a snowfall of 124 inches, 100 inches more than last year, this was far from ideal skiing. But it was skiing. In March. In Southern California.
I got in 10 long runs by 11:30 a.m. And I was taking my time. At this rate, I'd be done with everything before sunset. I couldn't understand why more people didn't do this.
The plan was to get over to a High Desert hike next, then hit up some food during a rush-hour drive to the beach.
The two-lane Pearblossom Highway traces the southwestern end of the Mojave Desert, a landscape studded with Joshua trees and creosote bush interrupted occasionally by the blue waters of the California aqueduct. Postcard stuff, but not practical. For years it was known as Blood Alley because of the head-on collisions. I tested the name, zipping over to face oncoming cars to get past trailers and trucks ambling at desert tortoise pace.
Traffic finally picked up about 20 minutes later when I got on the Antelope Valley Freeway. I was hungry and had hoped for a Subway or In-N-Out for lunch but had no luck as I scanned the small scattering of fast-food signs along the way.
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