I-5 OR HOW I LEARNED TO QUIT ASKING “ARE WE THERE YET?”

Heavy traffic again today. But we’re heading south down the state’s main traffic artery. The further south we drove the more barren it looked. Pretty soon I realized what was usual neatly prepared and planted fields seemed to be just empty land returning to untended stretches of dirt.

Then these signs started appearing hanging on the fences:

I knew the idiots in Congress had cut off water to some of the fields in the San Joaquin Valley because of a bottom of the food chain fish that isn’t even endangered. Once again the tree huggers exercise power they shouldn’t have with decisions that put humans beneath low life forms. Flush the fish, let the farmers get back to feeding the humans and shoot the ravens just for kicks and giggles. But I digress.

The drive was depressing. Empty, wind-blown fields, bumper to bumper traffic and the allure of California seemed diminished.

Once we cleared Palmdale with its crazy 50 mph city streets and stop lights every eighth mile, we pulled out of the flatlands and began a climb up into the foothills of the Angeles National Forest. I had managed to find a Christian camp that was pretty much closed up for the winter. We drove on roads called “Big Rock Creek” and “Red Gulch Road.” It started to feel like the set of a John Ford western.

We finally found the camp and were greeted by a wonderful woman who showed us where we could park our RV. This is not an RV camp—just kind people who were happy to help out travelers who needed a place to stay for 2 nights. The water pipes had all frozen during the snow a few days earlier but we did have electricity. Alas, no dumping facilities.

Later that evening we had a joyful reunion with our monk friends. Their new temporary digs are very nice and it was good to see the familiar icons and soak up the good smells of the new chapel. At Divine Liturgy back in Santa Rosa we had been admonished not to be seduced by the “pious, religious sentiment” of Christmas Eve. Well, when all you’ve felt for so long is emptiness, “pious religious sentiment” feels pretty good. I sure wasn’t going to knock it! So throw another Yule log on, crank up the carols and revel in sentimentality. Wassail All!