Easin' Along

Our trips to the West Coast usually require more than two weeks in each direction. This trip went south through Alabama and Mississippi, then west through Texas and beyond. By doing so, we avoided a significant snowfall that hit Knoxville the day after we left. My neighbor sent me a picture of the event.

Eventually, we reached California, where we camped in Seal Beach, San Onofre Beach, and Del Mar. After about six weeks in those locations, we eventually arrived at Fiddler’s Cove Campground in Coronado, California.

Fiddler’s Cove Campground is probably my favorite campground in the military inventory. Although the weather was unusually cool this year, we enjoyed our stay immensely. Below are two pictures of a night scene across Coronado Bay from the campground. The image on the left was from our visit in 2024, taken with my Canon 60D (ISO 200, f/13, 15 sec). During this trip, I used my Canon 6D for the picture on the right (ISO 100, f/13, 30 sec). Although the conditions were better in 2024, The photo on the right captured more detail. Thoughts?

I mentioned in my last post that I went through an attack of appendicitis in Coronado. Fortunately, the episode did not require surgery, and I left the Navy Medical Center, San Diego, with instructions to consult my family doctor when I reached Knoxville. On our return trip home, we decided to play it safe and go to Holbrook, AZ, then head east on I-40, the most direct route available.

Our first stop after San Diego was the El Centro, CA, Navy Air Station–the winter home of the Blue Angels. When we arrived at the Navy Base, we pulled in behind a long line of cars awaiting entry through the gate. Surprisingly, an Air Show featuring the Blue Angels would begin soon after we checked in. It was a complete surprise, but I’d rather be lucky than good. The Air Show was a fantastic display of skill and precision. Our campsite gave us a front-row seat.

Our next stop on the way home was a KOA in Holbrook, AZ. The Petrified Forest National Park was a few miles from the campground. The weather was perfect, so we decided to take it in. A Volunteer at the Visitor’s Center informed us that the road through the National Park was 26 miles long, but we should take our time—there was a lot to see.

An overlook facing the Painted Desert gave us our first clue that the volunteer knew what he was talking about. The colors are astounding, and we paused at several overlooks.

The Petrified Forest covers over 346 square miles and showcases an environment that was over 200 million years old when this stark desert was under two miles of water and silt. The Petrified logs covering the land are fallen trees, eventually buried in silt for thousands of years, then exposed when the land dried. The colors in the logs resemble works of art. Helen took a stump break after one of our hikes.

Visitors are encouraged to stop at several points to view petroglyphs created by ancestral Puebloans between 1000 and 1300 AD. The drawings represent art or thoughts rather than words. We observed several displays etched into huge boulders sitting on the desert floor.

At Studebaker Point, we paused for a photo op beside the antique Studebaker marking the original Route 66 that once crossed the desert in the last century. The telephone poles that ran along the highway remain to mark the route.

We departed Holbrook the day after our park visit. Helen woke us early to prod me toward Albuquerque, NM, our next stop.

Eventually, we returned to Knoxville to witness our Pink Dogwood in bloom.

We had a wonderful time on this adventure. Easin’ Along is a blessing, and we’re so grateful to have the opportunity at our age, but there’s no place like home.

Until next time…

When I retired, I wanted to explore photography as a hobby, so I picked up some equipment and began watching YouTube videos to learn the finer points of shooting and editing images. Soon, I carried a camera everywhere, and because I wanted to share my work, I created a blog. The hobby has served me well as a way to journal our travels once we added RVing to our lifestyle.

If the truth be known, however, Helen is the real photographer in the family. She doesn’t have a backpack of equipment like her husband–she uses a late-model iPhone and fills the library with photos from everywhere. Her gift is a strong feel for composition, contrast, and color, which always results in interesting shots.

As we moved down the West Coast, Helen used those skills to produce some great shots, and I invite you to take a peek at her portfolio. She snapped all of the pictures below except one from her iPhone. I did a little editing on some of them.

The San Onofre, CA campground is fertile ground for any hobby photographer, and Helen took full advantage of the opportunity. She captured me doing what I do best—filling a beach chair at sunset (above) and prepping our breakfast while watching our church service online.

A day trip to Long Beach was highlighted by coming upon a long line of piers filled with seals and sea lions–out came the iPhone.

A lovely sunset resulted in a selfie of Helen and her roommate.

At twilight, a gaggle of seagulls left the sand and came into focus.

On the rocky shore of San Onofre, Helen discovered the interesting-looking Wavy Turbine Snail and collected a bucketful. She would find some decorative purpose for them, but first, she had to clean them and soak them in bleach. That project lasted for several days.

When we moved to the Del Mar, CA beach, Helen captured our campsite, less than 100 yards from the surf.

A picture of a Del Mar sunset needs no words.

Mortimer met a running buddy on our morning walk.

Stunning weather greeted us on day one at Fiddler’s Cove Campground in Coronado, CA.

We’ve had a lot of rain here, but we also enjoyed a bright and colorful rainbow at the end of one of the passing storms.

Our first weekend was interrupted when I underwent an attack of appendicitis and entered the Navy Medical Center San Diego for treatment. I was fortunate to receive one of the last two beds available. I did not have surgery, but will once I return home.

After two days of heavy antibiotics and painkillers, the staff released me. Fortunately, I had one more week at Fiddler’s Cove to rest before starting home. I cannot say enough about my care at the Navy Hospital.

Helen was there to record it all.

I’ll have more about our visit to Fiddler’s Cove in a future post. We’re Easin’ Along.

In a previous post, I informed Easin’ Along readers about the two-week vacation Helen and I enjoyed on the beach in San Onofre, CA. We had been busy driving across the country and spending quality time with our son’s family, including our precious grandchildren. We took advantage of the opportunity to do what we do best: sit in a beach chair while reading and watching dozens of surfers.

Near the end of the second week, I suggested we “do something.” There are many attractions, restaurants, and shopping venues to visit, but I had no interest in that. We drove to nearby San Clemente occasionally for propane and diesel fuel, where I observed several signs pointing to Mission San Juan Capistrano, a short 14 miles from the campground. We made plans to go the next day.

The town of San Jan Capistrano is small and charming, and it reeks of history. We found parking near the Mission and walked to the ticket station, just inside the front door. Tickets were $30, but thanks to 1) being old and 2) being Veterans with ID cards, we managed to whittle the price of admission down to $15. Sometimes, “old” has its advantages.

Before this visit, the only thing I knew about San Juan Capistrano was its reputation for the swallows that returned there around the same time every year. There was much more to swallow than birds.

Founded in 1776 by Padre Junípero Serra, the Mission is the seventh in a chain of 21 missions established in Alta, California, to Christianize and civilize the Indians. The Acjachemen (Ah-HAWSH-eh-men) were the Native Americans who lived in the area of Mission San Juan Capistrano before the Spanish arrived in 1776. The Acjachemen are also known as the Juaneno people. 

Helen and I walked into the Mission Courtyard, a green and elegantly landscaped space surrounded by the Serra Chapel, gathering rooms, and the quarters of the property owners who arrived in the mid-19th century.

Serra Chapel is a grand structure and the only place Father Serra, the Mission founder, said mass and performed baptisms. On the left wall of Serra Chapel was a portrait of Saint John Capistrano, the Mission’s namesake, who lived in Italy during the 13th century. In the front pews, many visitors sat while offering silent prayer.

Shortly after the Mission’s founding, construction began on the Great Stone Church. Construction finished in 1806, but during the earthquake of 1812, the Great Stone Church fell to the ground and was never rebuilt. Two original bells from the Great Stone Church remain on the property and ring daily. Two of the oldest bells are also on display but no longer used due to cracking.

In 1845, the Mission, valued at over $54,000, was auctioned to John Forster, Governor Pio Pico’s brother-in-law, for $710. For the next 20 years, the Mission was a private ranch property of the Forster family. Eventually, Mr. Forster would own 250,000 acres across three counties. Rooms, including the dining room Mr. Forster and his family used, were open to visitors.

Several ladies were engaged in a demonstration of ancient tribal basket weaving along the inside wall of the courtyard. One lady spent several minutes with us explaining the techniques for producing various sizes of baskets.

San Juan Capistrano achieved nationwide attention in 1939 when NBC Radio played the song “When the Swallows Return to Capistrano” to a live national audience. Interest in the birds attracted attention to the area.

The famous cliff swallows of San Juan Capistrano leave town every year in a swirling mass near the Day of San Juan (October 23). They head for their winter vacation spot 6,000 miles south in Goya, Corrientes, Argentina. Each year, they return on or about March 19 – St. Joseph Day.

Now, the swallows are nesting farther from the center of town, and visitors no longer see clouds of swallows descending on the Mission as they once did. Still, the swallows are Capistrano’s most famous citizens. The birds are well-known, well-loved, and protected here. The city is, by law, a bird sanctuary. A volunteer guide at the Mission pointed out some nests in the eaves and overhangs of some buildings around the Courtyard.

We enjoyed our visit to the Mission immensely and spent some time driving through the historic area of the town before returning to the campground at San Onofre Beach. Our beach chairs were where we left them.

We’re Easin’ Along.