#dog walker traverse city

[tctails04]

Why At-Home Pet Sitting in Traverse City is the Best Choice for Your Dog

When it comes to finding the perfect care for your dog while you're away, at-home pet sitting in Traverse City is an option that stands out. Unlike traditional kennels, where your dog may be stressed or uncomfortable in an unfamiliar environment, dog sitters in Traverse City offer a safe and cozy home setting for your pet. 

Whether you’re going on a short trip or a long vacation, choosing an experienced dog sitter ensures that your furry friend gets the attention and care they need. In this article, we’ll explore why at-home pet sitting in Traverse City is the best choice for your dog and how it provides a more personalized experience compared to other pet boarding options.

The Comfort and Familiarity of Home

One of the key benefits of at-home pet sitting in Traverse City is that your dog stays in a familiar environment. Many dogs experience anxiety when placed in unfamiliar settings, such as traditional pet boarding facilities, which can be noisy, crowded, and overwhelming. 

In contrast, dog sitters provide a calm and comfortable home setting where your dog can feel secure. Being in a sitter’s home ensures that your dog is surrounded by the familiar smells, sounds, and routine they’re used to, which reduces stress and helps them feel more at ease.

Personalized Attention for Your Dog

When you choose a dog sitter in Traverse City, your dog gets one-on-one attention. Unlike crowded kennels where pets might not receive the individual care they deserve, at-home pet sitting allows your dog to have a more customized experience. 

Whether it’s playtime, meals, walks, or naps, your sitter can focus entirely on your dog’s specific needs and preferences. This level of attention ensures your dog’s happiness and well-being throughout their stay.

Socialization and Exercise Opportunities

Another advantage of dog sitters in Traverse City is that they often offer more opportunities for socialization and exercise. Many dog sitters take their pets on walks, to parks, or to playdates with other friendly dogs. 

This helps your dog stay active, engaged, and happy, which is especially important if your dog thrives on interaction and outdoor activities. Additionally, since your dog is staying in a home setting, they are less likely to feel isolated or bored compared to traditional boarding facilities where exercise might be limited.

Peace of Mind for Pet Owners

For pet owners, the thought of leaving their dog behind can be stressful. However, with at-home pet sitting services in Traverse City, you can rest assured that your pet is in good hands. Professional dog sitters keep you updated with photos and messages, allowing you to stay connected with your dog while you’re away. 

This peace of mind is invaluable, knowing that your pet is being cared for in a loving, safe environment rather than in a crowded kennel.

Flexible and Tailored Care

One of the great advantages of at-home pet sitting in Traverse City is the flexibility it offers. Unlike traditional pet boarding where schedules and routines are set, dog sitters are able to accommodate your pet's specific needs, including their diet, exercise schedule, and even medication. 

This level of customization means that your dog’s care is tailored precisely to their habits and preferences. Whether your dog needs extra cuddle time, a specific feeding routine, or frequent bathroom breaks, your sitter can adjust their care accordingly, providing a more personalized experience than what might be available at a typical boarding facility.

Fewer Health Risks

In traditional pet boarding settings, pets are often exposed to a variety of other animals, which can increase the risk of illness or infections. With at-home pet sitting in Traverse City, your dog is typically the only pet being cared for in a private home, which greatly reduces the likelihood of exposure to contagious diseases. 

Furthermore, most dog sitters prioritize maintaining a clean and safe environment for all pets in their care, ensuring that your dog’s health and well-being are safeguarded during their stay.

Reduced Travel Stress for Your Dog

Traveling to a pet boarding facility can often be stressful for dogs, especially if they’re unfamiliar with the transportation process. With at-home pet sitting services in Traverse City, your dog can avoid the added stress of traveling to a new location. 

Your dog stays where they’re most comfortable—at the sitter's home—and this eliminates the disruption that often comes with the journey to and from a boarding kennel. This means a calmer, more relaxed dog who doesn’t have to endure long car rides or the stress of being transported in an unfamiliar vehicle.

Increased Safety and Security

When you opt for at-home pet sitting, you often receive an added layer of security. Many dog sitters offer services in a private home that may include secure fencing, gates, or areas designed specifically for pet safety. This means that your dog will be kept safe from hazards such as busy roads or other animals that may pose a threat in outdoor spaces. 

Additionally, many dog sitters in Traverse City are trained to handle emergency situations, giving you confidence that your pet is in capable hands.

Building a Relationship with Your Dog’s Sitter

One of the most significant advantages of choosing a dog sitter for at-home pet sitting is the opportunity for your pet to build a relationship with the sitter over time. This ongoing connection helps your dog feel more comfortable and familiar with their caregiver, which is essential for long-term peace of mind. 

The more frequently your dog stays with the same sitter, the more relaxed and adjusted they will become, knowing they’ll be well taken care of each time. This familiarity creates a bond that benefits both the dog and the sitter, making future stays even more seamless and enjoyable.

Conclusion

With all the advantages that at-home pet sitting in Traverse City offers, it’s clear why so many pet owners are choosing this option over traditional pet boarding facilities. From the comfort and familiarity of a home environment to the personalized care, reduced stress, and improved safety for your dog, choosing a dog sitter ensures your pet is in the best hands while you’re away. 

By offering a level of care that truly caters to your dog’s individual needs, at-home pet sitting is the ideal choice for any pet owner looking for the best experience for their furry friend.

Ready to book a stay for your pet? 

Contact us today to schedule your dog’s next stay with one of our trusted dog sitters in Traverse City. We’ll ensure your pet receives the attention and care they deserve while you’re away. Don’t hesitate—reach out now to give your dog the best care possible!

[haddassah]

Safety boots in Australia are no longer the sole domain of construction sites and industrial settings. Australians across various professions and hobbies are embracing the benefits of these protective footwear options for conquering daily walking challenges. Whether you’re a mail carrier traversing city blocks rain or shine, a park ranger patrolling scenic trails, or a dog walker logging miles in the park, the right safety boot can be your trusty companion.

[guestcanpost]

Exploring Nature's Playground: Abbotsford's Parks and Recreati

Nestled in the heart of the picturesque Fraser Valley, Abbotsford is a city known for its stunning natural beauty and abundance of outdoor recreational opportunities. With its diverse range of parks and recreational areas, Abbotsford offers residents and visitors alike a nature lover's playground to explore and enjoy. From serene forested trails to expansive green spaces, Abbotsford's parks provide the perfect backdrop for outdoor activities and relaxation. In this article, we will take you on a journey through some of Abbotsford's most notable parks and recreational areas, highlighting their unique features and attractions.1. Mill Lake ParkOne of the crown jewels of Abbotsford, Mill Lake Park is a sprawling 46-hectare park located in the city center. The centerpiece of the park is the picturesque Mill Lake, surrounded by lush greenery and walking trails. Visitors can enjoy leisurely walks or bike rides around the lake, or take advantage of the park's picnic areas and playgrounds. Mill Lake Park also hosts various community events throughout the year, including concerts and festivals, making it a vibrant hub of activity for residents of all ages.2. Abbotsford Exhibition ParkKnown locally as "Tradex," Abbotsford Exhibition Park is a multi-purpose facility that hosts a wide range of events and activities. The park features an expansive fairground, an indoor arena, and numerous sports fields. It is home to the annual Abbotsford Agrifair, a popular summer event that showcases agriculture, entertainment, and rides. The park also offers a network of trails for walking and jogging, as well as an off-leash dog park, making it a hub of activity for both humans and their furry friends.3. Sumas Mountain Regional ParkFor those seeking a more rugged outdoor experience, Sumas Mountain Regional Park is a must-visit destination. Located on the eastern edge of Abbotsford, this expansive park spans over 1,471 hectares and offers a diverse range of recreational opportunities. Hiking and mountain biking trails wind through dense forests, leading to scenic viewpoints that offer panoramic views of the surrounding valleys and mountains. The park is also home to several picturesque lakes, perfect for fishing or a peaceful kayak ride.4. Clayburn Village and Stave LakeNestled in the northern part of Abbotsford, Clayburn Village is a historic neighborhood that dates back to the early 1900s. The village features beautifully preserved heritage buildings and a tranquil park, providing visitors with a glimpse into Abbotsford's past. Just a short drive from Clayburn Village is Stave Lake, a popular destination for outdoor enthusiasts. Stave Lake offers opportunities for boating, fishing, and swimming, and its scenic beauty makes it an ideal spot for picnicking or simply enjoying a peaceful day by the water.5. Aldergrove Regional ParkLocated on the border between Abbotsford and Langley, Aldergrove Regional Park is a sprawling natural playground that spans over 288 hectares. The park boasts a network of picturesque trails that wind through forests, wetlands, and open fields. It is home to an abundance of wildlife, making it a popular destination for birdwatchers and nature photographers. The park also features a large off-leash dog area, as well as picnic areas and a beautiful outdoor amphitheater that hosts summer concerts and theatrical performances.6. Discovery TrailStretching over 30 kilometers, the Discovery Trail is a multi-use recreational trail that connects various communities in Abbotsford. The trail offers a scenic route for walkers, runners, cyclists, and rollerbladers, with numerous access points along the way. As you traverse the trail, you'll pass through lush forests, picturesque farmlands, and tranquil residential areas. The Discovery Trail provides an excellent opportunity to explore Abbotsford's natural beauty while engaging in a healthy and active lifestyle.Conclusion:Abbotsford's parks and recreational areas offer a plethora of opportunities for outdoor adventure and relaxation. Whether you're seeking a leisurely stroll around a picturesque lake, an exhilarating hike through dense forests, or a day of fun-filled activities in a community park, Abbotsford has something to offer everyone. So, grab your hiking boots, pack a picnic, and immerse yourself in the natural playground that is Abbotsford's parks and recreational areas. Happy exploring! Read the full article

[safereturndoubtful]

Day 3 - to Caión

I took quite a bit of interest in lighthouses when travelling the west coast of Scotland a couple of years ago. I visited a few of them, and read a few books about their construction, and the days of their keepers; many in Scotland constructed by the Stevenson family, which including, though very part time, Robert Louis.

It’s the lives of the keepers that really interests me. The unfinished Poe story, made into an uncomfortable but gripping film with Pattinson and Dafoe and set off Cape Breton, conjures images of rampaging storms, and a solitary existence that demands great mental strength in order to survive.

The unexplained disappearance of the Flannan Isle keepers in 1900 from Eilean Mòr.

Hence my interest in these on the north-west Iberian coast, of which I will be visiting quite a few in the next week or so, and delving into their history.

The Faro de Estaca de Bares stands on the northernmost point of Spain, generally considered to be the boundary between the open Atlantic and the Mare Cantábrico (Bay of Biscay). Together with the light on Cabo Finisterre, where I will be last of all next week, it is one of the two lighthouses ordered in 1846 to light the northwestern corner of the Iberian Peninsula. It has been used continually since 1850, and was the model for most of the other lighthouses on the Galician coast.

It was electrified in 1964, but kept a full-time keeper until 1993.

The abandoned military installations, and accommodation at the lighthouse, were a US Coast Guard base since the early 1960s, and after French and British government stations until 1991.

I had chosen a hiking route for the morning that gained the highest ground close by, 330 metres, and took in a 2 kilometre ridge that was all above 300 metres. Though a muddy trudge initially, the route was quite spectacular, especially with the strong north-westerly wind making for a lively sea, and the frequent heavy rain and hail showers. For much of the hike the views were tremendous, occasional blue and sun against an otherwise angry sky, the ocean coastline on the way up, the ridge, and then the eucalyptus forests on the descent.

After lunch I moved to south of A Coruña. As it traverses the As Neves pass the road climbs to 600 metres, and the rain, now snow, had set in. It was below zero on the pass and a few centimetres of snow had accumulated, so it was slow going.

But down, beyond the city, it was a fair few degrees warmer.

I have some business in nearby Carballo tomorrow morning, then will start a few days on the Camino dos Faros, which begins at Malpica.

Tonight I’m at the surf town of Caión, devoid of any surfers, and indeed, any other people at all, save for two dog walkers I saw between the heavy showers. We wandered into town, but everything is closed. February is siesta month it seems.

The beach car parks will take hundreds of cars most of the year, but tonight it’s just me, and the noisiest sea I have heard for a good while.

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

What Keeps You Up at Night part 2: Michael Knights Pov

Bonnie’s POV X

Dedicated to @aspacerat1 and two other people who begged me to write this.

For most silence is craveable, worth more than its own weight in gold. However, for Michael Knight, the quiet is intrusive. An invading force that extends its wicked tendrils into corners of his life he'd prefer to leave undisturbed. He had enough personal demons plaguing him without reawakening those wicked wraiths left to slumber in the wakes of the past.

Stirring, walking, and working forced those unsettling spirits to remain cast out to bay where they belonged. Observant azure orbs behold Wilton’s garage, taking note of the thermal pools of light exuding from within. Michael pauses outside the industrial doors, his fingers clasped around the solid steel handle. Dare he interlope on the work being done within? Would Bonnie be receptive to the encroachment on her territory at this hour? Or should he travel onwards like the wayfaring soldier he was? Warring deliberation is evident upon his striking face though it rests in the realms of darkness. The unyielding urge to investigate eventually wins over.

Barstow hears him though his practiced steps are hushed. A fact, he deduces, comes from having been snuck up on one too many times. He is pleasantly surprised when she does not berate his nosiness but rather, welcomes it. A whimsical Cheshire-cat-like grin snakes across his lips at her prodding. “Ya know, Bons, I could say the same thing.” He casually leans his weight against Kitt’s door.

For posterity's sake, he casts a glance down at his watch. His azure orbs briefly denote the time. It’s the bewitching hour of three when thick blankets of fog cuddle close to the ground and envelope everything including the skyscrapers of the far-off city. Darkness has not yet tasted the welcoming vibrancy of sunlight. Even still, the sky is gradually perfecting a reverse ombre. Thoughts of any realm outside the present garage fizzle into nothingness.

Michael is genuinely touched by her obvious concern. His lips part ways with a gentler, more tame smile. “I’m fine.” Suddenly, he is overly conscious about the focus of her eyes flashing over him. His large hand smooths through the luxuriously thick tangles of his dark curls, hoping to bring some measure of order to the otherwise half disheveled and unruly appearance. After a pause, he finally embellishes his answer to her question. “Figured I might as well make myself useful since I can’t sleep.” Devon surely had mountainous stacks of manila folders laying around with new cases. Some of them might even become the Foundation’s priority before too long. Yet, he’s not really interested in swimming through the black inked collections of information. By preference, he invests fully in his favorite prepossessing coworker.

His azure eyes practically glow, wired by mild disquietude as if they were neon lights when she lets out a huff. Had he ventured to ask something he shouldn’t have? He is about to apologize for any offense he may have dealt her when she finally begins to speak. Any semblance of a smile completely evaporates. Her first answer to his inquiry felt deliberately vague but in a way, he fully understood it. There had been so many instantaneous reactions and so many moments over the years that he would amend if he was ever given such an opportunity. Lingering at the top of that very list was the way he spoke to the poor dying Wilton Knight the day he stormed into the garage. Devon said Michael had just struck a dying man. That phraseology though simple haunted him still. He’d spend the rest of his life wishing he could take those venom-laced words back.

Sympathetically, Michael nods. In existence, there were probably a trillion comforting words he could offer. Begrudgingly, not a singular term would willfully lend itself to snuffing out her quieted sufferings. Even still, he refused to be dismissive of her pain. “I get it. Trust me, I do.” And the hideous truth was, he painfully did comprehend. He waits till she stands to draw nearer. “Look I know you don’t need me to tell you this,” Michael starts, “but there’s no use in torturing yourself over the past. It just takes your mind away from your present.” A pause. “Besides, every mistake is a lesson propelling you on your way to success.”

“You stole that off some cheesy poster, didn’t you?” Bonnie playfully accuses.

Bonnie wasn’t wrong. He had pilfered some of it but adapted it to fit in his own lax lexicon. Notes of cheerfulness begin to creep back into his countenance and it is denoted in the softening of his eyes. “Well, it’s more like borrowed,” he cheekily returned. Stealing was such a dirty term.

Bon’s next confession cuts him to the quick. He felt as though he had been sucker-punched. The strangled breath that he emits attests to the awful palpable sensation of having been viciously belted by her words. “Bons...” Her nickname is expelled reverently, in the form of a near prayerful whisper. His hands which had been mindful of respecting her personal space now lurch forward, gingerly collapsing around the slopes of her shoulders. He swallows sharply with the realization of just how much responsibility she allowed to weigh down upon her shoulders. They’ve had their share of close calls but not a single one of them had occurred as a result of anything Bonnie had done. Michael couldn’t fathom how she’d ever shift that blame to herself.

Making sure he is holding her gaze, he speaks again. “You’ve never let either of us down. No matter how hopeless our situations have been. I know you constantly say that you’re a scientist, not a miracle worker, but I tend to think of you as both. Without your skills and expertise, neither of us would be here.” His chord is full of unwavering conviction. “I know you, Bon. You will never let Kitt and I peel out of this garage if you genuinely thought we would not return in, at the very least, a salvageable condition.” He knows that this will probably do little to assuage her fears. Yet, he is trying. Michael allows one hand to depart her shoulder to cup her face. His thumb purposefully swipes slow strokes across the smooth globe of her cheekbone half-committing her beauty to memory.

He can discern wisps of terror coiling through those turquoise pools of hers and immediately, his poor heart gives off a series of terrible thrashing pangs. He desired to remove that fear from her, to let her know that he and Kitt are always going to return to her. Perhaps, he thinks to himself; he should take some measures towards being less feckless. “We’re safe. We’re going to stay that way. I promise.” Sure, he knows he ought not to make vows that he is uncertain he can keep but it feels exceedingly important in this very moment to do just that.

He can feel unintentional crater-like chinks forming in his armor both physical and emotional. Shielding her from bearing witness to anything that may translate into the depths of his eyes, Michael opts to press a doting kiss to the expanse of her forehead. It’s a sin. He knows. But he allows the cracked leather of his lips to remain against the warm silk of her skin for a touch longer than he ought. While there, he reveled in the familiar scents of her shampoo and body wash. Man, oh man, he jealously coveted her the way pirates did their treasures.

Barstow’s question causes Knight to unintentionally recoil. It’s something he hadn’t allowed his mind to ruminate on. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he thought about the causes behind his insomnia. Withdrawing his lips and taking a step back, he elects to gaze upon her countenance. She deserved nothing but an honest answer.

The unspoken reply hits Michael the way a barreling freight train might. With every click along the tracks shot fleeting shadows, hollow phantoms of faces and places, resurrecting images imprinted on his mind. Whether they were imagined or real or an unholy collision of the two, he could not distinguish. There was nothing concrete left in the whirlwind the question created and still, the sparks felt indelible. Among these things, Michael dared not give a voice were: oppressively thick jungles with flickering silhouettes of soldiers traversing cautiously through them, glints off of silver and gold shields with the towering engraving of city hall etched in them and the casts of red and blue flashing lights, hot Nevada nights, his father and mother or a man and woman with near enough resemblance to Long, American flags draped over caskets, super-nova like bursts of light from guns being fired, and something- something way back in the blur of memory. He thinks though it is with no absolute clarity, that it might have been home. No. It is not his current place of residence but rather that of his, correction Michael Long’s, childhood. Having taken two bullets to the skull had done little to preserve the things most other people could never forget. Tanya Walker’s bullet managed to wipe out the most solid impressions of the past. While he was grateful not to relive a majority of the horrors and atrocities of Nam, he mourned the loss of recollection towards the rest of Michael Long’s life.

Somewhere along the way, the unspoken reminiscing to the lost voices of the past derails. It takes a wrong turn, spinning on an axis until it conjures up feelings of dread, anxiety, and intense anger. His fingers curl up, clenching tight at his side before going lax again. Just as quickly as the negative emotions arrived, they vanish.

Embarrassment flushes across his cheeks when he realizes that she is patiently staring and he had not given her a response. He had been floundering, drowning without hope of rescue, in things he couldn’t entirely understand himself. He’s never been raw and open about any of his wounds. Discussing them wasn’t going to be an easy feat.

Despite Michael Knight’s outward confidence, insecurities dogged his every step. “Sometimes,” he starts, his voice unusually gravely and husky. “Sometimes I lay awake, wondering why Wilton Knight chose me to carry on his legacy instead of someone else. Instead of Devon or .... or any number of readily available people.” His tongue trails briefly over the jagged edges of his lips. “If anyone deserved a second chance at life, Muntzy did.” It is a fact Michael whole-heartedly believed. He would have traded his life a hundred times over to ensure that poor Rebecca (Muntzy’s wife) and his three little girls wouldn’t have to face a life without their father.

Bonnie listened intently. Her eyes never daring to depart from him. She is so astonished by the revelation, that she finds herself at a rare loss for words. Her brows furrow in disbelief. In her mind, she never questioned Michael’s appointment to FLAG’s most trusted operative. Devon might have earned the position were he younger, more nimble, and less inclined towards a life of predictability. Sure, he had been wild in his youth but those days were long tossed to the wind. Regardless, Wilton had always been startlingly confident in his choice! There had been no doubt in his mind to Michael’s worthiness.

In a softer agonized tone, he rhetorically prods, “why me of all people?” He didn’t fancy himself as being overly special but more than that, he didn’t feel deserving of Wilton Knight’s incredible mantle. The extraordinary burden of which had been thrust upon his shoulders without his ever being asked with the demand that he walks away from everything and everyone he cherished. There hadn’t been one single moment where Michael had been gifted the opportunity to turn back. Michael Long was dead.  “What if I cease to make him proud? What if one man isn’t enough to make a difference?” He shifts uncomfortably. His hands briefly delving into the denim pockets of his jeans. His eyes dart around the garage before returning to her. Where he expected to find judgement, he found only empathy. Before she can open her mouth to further comment, he changes the subject.

Taking one of the cleaner rags he could find nearby, he starts running it along Kitt’s outer shell. It was easier to focus when he could be doing some menial task or other. Or so, he tells himself. “There are some nights where fragments of intelligence missions in Nam and my early days of police work come back to me. Can’t make odds or ends outta them but I know they’re there. They’re hopelessly jumbled like a tangled ball of yarn.” It was hard to put to words unless one had experienced it for themselves. It was like trying to recreate a phenomenal recipe with no real idea of what ingredients went into it. Even if you did, by some miracle, manage to secure all of the ingredients, there was still a mystery pertaining to measurements. When they’re all mixed together, it never really turns out like the original. Now, does it? Heck, sometimes it didn’t make for even a shallow reproduction.

When he tried to connect the dots of things that happened in Nam and on the big bad streets of Nevada and Los Angeles, they came out pixilated a kaleidoscope of images woven tightly together.  Everything would shift and warp with the slightest touch, altering in their entirety. Reality or fiction? It was impossible to discern which category each memory should be assigned to. There is no one he could ask to assist him with the task of making distinctions. A majority of his work gathering intel reports and sending them along in a timely manner had been highly classified. Worse still, there were no war or cop buddies who were made privy to the knowledge of Michael Long’s rebirth into Michael Knight. He had to circumnavigate lapses in memory on his own.

Relinquishing a frustrated breath, he continues in a low voice, “ there are nights when I close my eyes and see her. I see Tanya and that sharp burst of yellow light from the gun...” The words feel thick and he chokes a little. A frigid chill creeps down every vertebra in his spine. Even talking about it makes him recoil. He knows Bonnie wouldn’t ask him to further elaborate. She knows about the accident and a good bit of the aftermath.

Turning back to her with a plaintive expression, he decides to confess a terror that made every drop of his blood turn to ice. “Hear me out,” he starts, abandoning the cloth rag on Kitt’s T-top so that his hands might return to Bonnie’s frame. He hesitates, pulling his hands away from her shoulders at the last second and opting to cradle her face. “Those things are all intense but thoughts of losing you are by far the worst.” He spoke in a manner that left no debate towards his sincerity. Azure orbs vigorously drink her in. He’s lost one love and he made a vow before heaven and earth that he would stop at nothing to protect her.

[toronto-wanders]

G. Ross Lord Park - North York, ON, Canada

Has anyone tried Strava to track their hikes? I used it for the first time today and I found it really accurate and fun...also, it helped me get back to my car. Let’s dive in. This hike was a bit further out of the city and it was totally worth the trip. Nearby, there’s an Eastern European grocery store (Yummy Market) complete with a prepared foods counter in the back. I stopped here after my hike for some delicious treats to share with my roommates.

So let’s get into it. I parked near the north entrance of this park (the one closest to the dog parking). There’s a good deal of parking here and it’s free. There are bikes for rent available at a couple park entrances and parking lots. I started my hike by following some other hikers. This resulted in me traversing some very slippery bridges and footpaths, and then suddenly, I found myself completely alone. I guess one challenge of winter hiking is that trails become less clear. I walked down to the water (which is apparently polluted) and surveyed the large icy pond. 

I kept on thinking that if I walked further down the west corridor I’d find people, but I really found none. I did try following groups of footprints and accidentally found myself in an encampment, which I quickly left. I decided I’d walk down to Dufferin and Finch, loop around and see if anything got more “park-y” or lively.

After walking east down Finch, I did spot an actual trail. It still was very industrial in terms of atmosphere. Following this paved way led me up through the park’s dam. 

I found the landscapes and architecture here to be very stark, almost Soviet-feeling. I think part of what contributed to my surprise (besides the juxtaposition of nature and machinery) was the amount of people walking along smaller pathways in the distance. It’s hard to capture in images how vast and wide the space felt.

I noticed some very odd striking buildings in the distance. Lots of older folks were traversing by them. I couldn’t figure out what they were and went closer to investigate.

The buildings turned out to be mausoleums that were part of Westminster Cemetery. I admired the ways in which folks showed love for their departed ones. I’ve been reading a lot lately about how we’re desensitized to the sheer impact of COVID because the numbers are too large for our brains to comprehend. Walking through memorial after memorial nicely decorated with fake flowers, pictures, rosaries, and other symbols felt like the inverse of that.

I was able to exit the mausoleum and walk up small unmarked roads that eventually lead me out to Torresdale Avenue, and I followed this up to a park entrance that let me back in on the park’s east end. This was when I finally saw signs of life! People walking, kids trying to sled without sleds (yep that’s right), and families enjoying each others’ company. 

One thing I noticed walking through the park was that Eastern European languages were being spoken by many of the walkers. I also heard some Korean. It was refreshing as in quarantine, it’s easy to forget how diverse the larger world is. Some type of Eastern European music was also blasting (from different groups) both when I parked and when I headed back to my car, and it was nice to see people having fun and enjoying themselves in a relatively safe way. The trail had lots of offshoots that I would love to come back and explore some time.

Were I to return again, I would walk the eastern side of the park and explore that more deeply. I do think it was nice to get a lay of the land, even if at moments it felt a bit creepy when it was quiet and uber industrial. The mausoleum is something I definitely wouldn’t have discovered if I hadn’t made the wide loop I did around the park.

Strava stats below! So far it seems like a good exercise tracker. I like that it includes elevation, as well as the ability to input just about any physical activity know to man.

[pcttrailsidereader]

The Best of the PCT Continues

The countdown continues with Rees’ Numbers 8 and 7.  See Howard’s in yesterday’s post.

By Rees Hughes

NUMBER 8.  THE MAGICAL EVENING AT DRAKESBAD, July 9, 2010

 There are certain magical days on the Pacific Crest Trail that stand tall; days that rise above that broad forest of glorious days.   These are the days that your memory immediately races to when you reflect on your life on the trail.  There was the day we guessed our way around snow-covered Mt. Adams ending on a ridge with a commanding view of Mt. Rainier and a solstice sunset; the day we swam our way down Falls Creek marveling at the granite walls above Grace Meadows only to while away an afternoon in the soft, lush grass basking in the warm sun near Wilmer Lake; or the day we walked south from Cook and Green Pass past Kangaroo Springs to Lower Devils Peak with its ringside seat to the conflagration raging across the Klamath River Valley.  Every hiker has their transcendent days.

Such days do not always represent a confluence of everything wonderful.  It is their enchanted quality, what English writer Nan Fairbrother calls “exquisite moments,” that sets them apart.  Besides, time seems to blur the difficult and brighten the best experiences of these stellar days.  Such was the case this particular day.

The day dawned with vestiges of the tumultuous evening resting on the peaks above Lower Twin Lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park.  We tried to shake off as much moisture as possible but there was no alternative but to pack the tents wet again.  Dr. Howard tended to Don and Eli’s ailing feet.  Wet boots and long days had chaffed their feet raw with blisters compounding their discomfort.  There were unspoken thoughts of an early exit from the trail as it is no fun when each step hurts.  Perhaps a short day will improve spirits.

Speed bumps of late season snow gave way to long stretches of snow sheltered by the dense tree canopy.  I always find these situations wearing if not exhausting.  Climbing up and down the steep edges of the snow banks; picking your path around downed trees; add in a couple of postholes.   We carefully crossed several creeks swollen by the melt water and preceding night’s rainfall.  About midday we reached the crest of a line of basalt cliffs that comprise Flatiron Ridge high above the Warner Valley and, more importantly, Drakesbad.

Drakesbad, initially established clear back in 1900 as a guest ranch, remains a rustic refuge accessible via a corrugated unpaved road seventeen miles in from Chester (which is pretty remote itself) or on foot.  There are only nineteen units at Drakesbad some of which still rely on kerosene lamps.  However, the price for a night rivals the cost of a month on the PCT.  Yet, during much of the summer, accommodations have been reserved for years.  It really is a Northern California Shangri-la.

As we made the long traverse down, we could see the steam rising from the hot spring pool set out in a broad meadow.  The siren song of happy voices pulled us forward.  Our own chatter focused on the possibility of reserving a space for dinner.

We set up our tents in the Park Service’s Warner Valley Campground, hung a line and did our best to give the high mountain sun a chance to dry out our saturated gear.  Howard and I were nominated to walk the half mile to Drakesbad to ask about a table for four in the well ventilated section.  We donned clean tee-shirts and tried to sponge away the most offensive trail musk.

As we stepped into the closed space of the dining room, even our deadened noses became aware of the aroma that accompanied us.  The colorful tablecloths festooned the light wood of the dining room.  The room was set for dinner.  Salad forks.  Second spoons.  Wine glasses.  The ambiance was simple but elegant.   The realization that we didn’t fit here made us yearn for the opportunity that much more.

A tall woman brusquely emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen.  She had the air of a person with a long list of urgent tasks and little time for hiker trash.  Our first efforts to turn on the charm bounced off her and fell impotently to the floor.

We continued, “Any chance, any chance at all, that there might be a way to handle four more this evening?”  We weren’t above inserting a hint of desperation in our request.

“The Ranch is full and we usually only have enough food for our paying guests,” she replied without a hint of sympathy.  There was a pause as she saw our crestfallen faces.  “I will check with the chef and see if there is likely to be extra food.”   Perhaps it was her Germanic accent that underscored the futility of our quest.   Perhaps it was that she didn’t seem to be heading off to ask anyone anything.

We turned to go, tails between our legs.  Don and Eli will be so disappointed.  We had hoped this would be an antidote for their blistered feet and bruised morale.

With one foot out the door, Howard asked if it might be possible to use the phone for a quick call home as our cell phones had not been working along this stretch of the PCT.

It was if Howard had uttered a magic incantation that had propelled us into a parallel universe.  We were Dorothy trying to get into Oz.  “Why didn’t you say you were on the Crest Trail,” Billie Fiebiger exclaimed.  “We always have enough food for PCT hikers.”  In fact, Billie gave us the key to the city.  “Use the showers (please) and the pool.  Make yourselves at home.  Come back at 7 p.m. although you may not be seated until later.”  Still shaking our heads at our good fortune and this rather mysterious turn of events, we hurried back to tell Don and Eli the news before the spell was broken.

As the four of us returned the dark clouds that had dogged us the past several days were building quickly.  But, the warm showers and the hydrothermal pool kept us occupied until the rumble of thunder became more aggressive. Within minutes the remaining blue patches of sky vanished.  Lightning forced us reluctantly to vacate the pool.  The hail drove us for cover under the eaves of the bathhouse.   The gusting winds pushed tentacles of rain toward even the most protected corners.

Valiant employees raced down the trail to the pool in an electric cart to rescue the castaways three per trip.  The meadow had been transformed into a Sargasso Sea and the pyrotechnics kept us all jumpy.  Eventually we were deposited in the Lodge where we were to wait until dinner.

The photo albums and memorabilia in the Lodge deepened our appreciation for just what a special place Drakesbad is.  For two generations the Sifford family had built and tended this Guest Ranch.  For over 60 years they reclaimed the facility after each harsh winter for its four months of annual operation.  It had to be a labor of love.  The facility was incorporated into the National Park in 1958.  For the past 19 years, Ed and Billie Fiebiger have served as the hosts, caretakers, and stewards of Drakesbad.

Ed, in his chef’s apron, called us for dinner.  We crossed to the dining hall and were promptly seated.  There were several choices of entrees.  Or, Ed suggested, “Try them all!”  Heaping plates were brought to each of us.  The folks at the adjacent table took a special interest in our story.  One of their group had come annually for nearly fifty years.  Another from their table was sent back to their cabin and instructed to return with some of their wine stash to be shared with us.  “White or red?”  “No”, she instructed her husband, “bring one of each.”  We were peppered with questions and asked quite a few of our own.  We soaked up the attention that comes with being minor celebrities.

Ed pulled up a chair.  He had a bigger than life quality and exuded a warmth that permeated the hospitality of this magical place.

My cynical side wanted to peer around to make sure that we were not being fattened up by some wicked witch.  But, Drakesbad is a place that replenishes your faith in the generosity of the human spirit.  Distrust, doubt, and skepticism have no place here.

And, there was desert too.  In fact, there were three kinds.  “Try them all!”

It was tempting to linger much longer than we did.  I confess that it was all I could to restrain myself from asking if they served breakfast too.

Eventually we said reluctant goodbyes and enthusiastic thank yous.  The rain had stopped by the time we walked back toward our campsite.  If we weren’t walking down the road with our arms around each other, singing and talking loudly, then it felt like there was that sense of conviviality. 

The storm had spread our clothes across our campsite and sent cascades of water around our tents.   But there was nothing capable of dampening our spirits on this magical day.

NUMBER 7.  Harvesting pine nuts south of Walker Pass, May 10, 2011

I wanted to include a representative small moment that happens along the trail.  These are times when you slow down, stop, and absorb the nature that surrounds you.  These are the countless quiet, gentle experiences that occur, if you let them. I like to consider these my Mary Oliver moments.

When I section-hiked the PCT from Tehachapi to Walker Pass several Mays ago, as we neared the northern end of that trip we took a lunch break one day under a grove of piñon pines.  As we reached into our pack for our usual lunch of cheese, rye crackers, and salami, we began to notice that the forest floor was littered with pine nuts.  While some had become food for rodents, squirrels, and other foraging animals since dropping to the ground the prior autumn, most were so very edible.  Soon we were each on our hands and knees collecting cones and harvesting their delectable contents. I ate my fill and packed an empty bag with more nuts that I brought home with me when I left the trail.  It helped me understand the important role that pine nuts could play in the diet of Native Peoples. One pound of these nuts can contain up to 3,000 calories.

Another one of these small moments took place on the sandy bank of the McCloud River in Northern California on a section of the trail that most thru-hikers treat as an unfortunate 83 miles necessary to get from spectacular Burney Falls to Castle Crags and the beginning of the more dramatic Trinity Alps.  I was hiking with my friend, Bruce Johnston.  We had made excellent time from Deer Creek and decided to stop in the early afternoon and enjoy easy access to the McCloud River from the Ah-Di-Na Campground, located on the site of a former Wintu village and eventually a lavish resort owned by newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst (the family still owns an estate, Wyntoon, ten miles upstream).  By the late 1950s the Hearst family had razed the resort buildings and in 1965 the Forest Service had acquired the property.  The one constant throughout was the beautiful McCloud River.  Bruce and I set up camp and retreated to the edge of the river where we could lie flat on a sandy bar. There was just enough wind to avoid the mosquitoes that had been feasting on us in camp.  For the next two hours we watched the evolution of the evening sky, the dance of the bugs, birds, and trout, the breeze in the trees.  All of this accompanied by the soundtrack of the McCloud River.  In a trail culture where it is all about perpetually moving forward, there is much to be said for slowing down. “We are Nature,” Walt Whitman says, “long have we been absent, but now we return.”  Being more mindful has been an important life lesson for me.

[robotlearnstolove]

2022-05-27

It was one of those rare, beautiful winter days. Everything was gently blanketed by a thin layer of fresh snow. Enough to create a otherworldly, wintry aesthetic without causing any real difficulty to anyone’s ability to get around the city. The snow had come overnight and now the sky was perfectly clear. As was always the case in the winter months, the sun had been sluggish to rise but, once it was up, it brightly illuminated the crystalline snowscape in a way that Samantha found deeply enchanting.

The air around her was perfectly still. There wasn’t any wind or even a breeze to blow the cold, dry air around. She could actually feel the warmth of the sun on her bare cheeks which was a rare thing to experience in early February. From the snow-covered trees around her, she could hear bird song and squirrel chatter. The animals too were rejoicing in this unique and marvellous day. She smiled broadly.

Samantha was walking through the park a few blocks from home, going slowly and enjoying the morning. The houses were her favourite part. Something about the way the snow accumulated on the roofs and window frames appealed to her senses. She hadn’t seen many other people out today. She’d been passed by a fair number of cars and crossed paths with a handful of dog-walkers. So many people just seemed to avoid the outdoors entirely for the entire duration of winter. While she didn’t begrudge this decision, she didn’t fully understand it. Especially on a day like today.

The gravel path she was on formed a loop with an exit at each corner. As she approached the point where she had entered, she considered her options. She didn’t feel particularly cold or hungry so there was no need to rush back. Another loop around the park would take her about twenty minutes but she didn’t feel as though she would be ready to go home that soon. Alternatively, there was the trail along the river bank just a fifteen minute walk from here. The trail was a bit more challenging to traverse in the wintertime and it would take a little over an hour walk the entire distance both ways.

[beaconbaydogtraining]

This is why we do the work that we do. This is why we place Human Safety as our number one priority. This is why we are "that kind of trainer". This is why we use more than just clicks, treats and praise in our work. For the Bridger Walkers of the world. That's why! So come at me and my colleagues because we use bonkers, prong collars and e-collars to punish bad behaviors. But if you do, be prepared to demonstrate how you would train a dog that is capable of this kind of damage. And if you can't or won't help people who are struggling with dogs like this, you need to get out of the way of those of us that do. #istandwithsk9 (at Traverse City, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCtRhSfDQ6r/?igshid=f3b2gh36p4ip

[leagueofbantcraft]

Taral and Benle

A brief introduction to Benle and Taral my two walkers still on Ravnica. Benle lives there permanently and Taral more recently arrived. 

Taral twitched his ears. Each time he visited a new place the pressure difference caused loud popping sounds. He disliked that, but it was a side effect of what happened. He was happy to be off of that dusty mess of a collapsing plane. For once he was not talking about Phij. Taral was talking about Amonkhet. He had discovered a very interesting creature there, but since trouble was clearly brewing, he left. No one wants to stay on a plane where the only major civilization is being swarmed by locusts. After every trip he checks on Phij to make sure it isn’t entirely destroyed. And it wasn’t, much to Taral’s relief.  

Taral turned his head to see where he landed. Buildings were everywhere. He must have landed in the middle of this place’s major city. The streets were busy. People hurried this way and that. Some were headed to the markets. A blue skinned tall man was running, his pack full of letters. Taral did not see any who looked like him. And yet none of them seemed to pay him any mind. It could have been that they were all busy. Taral resolved to find the end of the city.

Wandering for two hours, he was disappointed to find that the city did not end. Every turn led to more buildings, more levels of city. How would he discover beasts here? His catalogue would not improve. He prepared to leave. He only had one thing on his mind and that was saving Phij. If this city could move to Phij it would soon see itself collapse as well. Taral prepared to leave.

“Excuse me, you look a little lost.” A voice distracted Taral.

“No, I was just getting ready to go home.” Taral turned towards the voice.

“Where are you headed? I can point you in the right direction.” The thin pale man said.

“No thank you, I can find my way I think.” Taral declined.

Taral left to try and find a quiet place to disappear. He made it a few steps when the pale man stopped him again.

“That’s the wrong way.” The pale man said.

“What?” Taral inquired.

“You have the face of a wolf, or a dog, or something. That screams Simic. The Simic Combine is in that direction. You are headed towards the market.” The pale man responded.

“I don’t follow.” Taral said.

“I have a stall down at the market, and that is the direction you are headed. You have an animalistic form, indicative of Simic genetic tampering. Therefore it is logical to assume that you should be from the Combine and thus want to return there.” The pale man said. “Though Simic usually use reptiles, fish and birds, so a mammalian head is certainly unusual. My name is Benle, by the way.”

“Well Benle, I can assure you I am not from the Simic Combine.” Taral insisted.

“So they experimented on you and you are from somewhere else?” Benle asked.

“No. No one experimented on me.” Taral answered.

“Well then, if you are not Simic, and weren’t experimented on, you are clearly not from around here. Therefore, I invite you to my home. It’s in the direction you were headed, right behind my stall.” Benle looked in both directions before walking to Taral’s side. “Also, if you want something sweet to eat, there is a bakery down the way that is simply to die for.”

Benle led him down the busy street. They passed under a large beast that Benle called an Indrik. He explained they were used as beasts of burden, but were distracted by birds. Benle pointed out his stall, a small cloth roofed wooden stand in a ring of other similar set ups. He led Taral to his home.

The house was built into the side of the building nearest the marketplace. It was the part of a series of townhomes. The door was a painted green wood. Benle jangled his keys around a bit before unlocking the door. Before he stepped inside, he stopped Taral. With a flick of his hand, the empty doorway shimmered. Benle bowed and let Taral through.

Inside was a single room, separated into sections by half-walls. There was a small kitchen next to the stairs. There was a dining space with wooden floors. The table and chairs were a set made of cherry. There was a small couch with leaf colored cushions sitting across from a workbench. Benle explained that was where he tested the new enchantments.

“Next time someone asks you if you were experimented on by the Simic, you might want to say yes. You are clearly and visually, not from around here. If someone gets a good look at you, then they could get suspicious, or scared.” Benle said as he went to go make some cocoa. “I would offer you tea or coffee, but I don’t care for it. If you want some cocoa, I could oblige.”

“Why so secretive?” Taral asked.

“Is this your first time? Because I expected from your hood, that you at least tried to disguise yourself.” Benle said.

“No, it is not my first time, wait does that mean you can do it too?” Taral exclaimed.

“Yes, keep it down. You are the first other person I’ve met that could traverse the aether as it would. I am originally from a place called Zendikar, I am a Kor.” Benle explained. “Luckily for me, I just look like I am a strangely built pale human. You can’t get away with that.”

“You are very kind to a stranger. I’m lucky it was you who was suspicious of me.” Taral nodded his head politely.

“Yes, well, when I first arrived here, I had a similar experience. My ally was not a planeswalker however. She helped me get settled in. I simply wanted to pay it forward as well.” Benle said.

“Well, I should get going then.” Taral stood up from the couch.

“You are going to planeswalk away already?” Benle asked, as he brought the cocoa.

“Yes, I don’t think I will find what I am looking for here.” Taral sat back down, accepting the warm mug.

“If you don’t mind me asking, I would like to know what that is? Think of it as in exchange for me helping you with.”

“I seek beasts that are incredibly adaptive. To put it simply.” Taral replied.

“Then you definitely should not leave!” Benle protested. “The Simic love creating adaptive creatures. Their aim is to create the best creatures and best future. Or something like that I remain neutral on the topic of guilds.”

“What would you suggest I do then?” Taral wondered.

“There is an inn down Oak Street. The innkeeper is a wonderful woman. I would suggest you stay with her until you find more permanent arrangements. I would offer, but there is not much room and I can’t stay often enough to make sure you don’t get into trouble. I have to work my stall in the marketplace.”

“You think I should buy a residence?”

“Yes. You could learn a lot from the Simic. And admiring their work will make them more willing to show you. I’m sure you could find a way to make some coin, called zinos by the way.” Benle answered.

“Which direction is Oak Street? And which direction is the Simic Combine, perhaps if our interests align I could work for them.” Taral said.

Benle mumbled a few words. A shimmery horned sheep manifested in his living room. It had snow-white wool that seemed to sparkle with starlight. It nudged Taral and headed to the door.

“That will guide you. It’s a trick I picked up from Theros.” Benle said.

“I’ll have to tell you about my trip to Theros sometime.” Taral responded as he followed the ram out the door.

“I expect to see your new house soon.” Benle called after him.

[fridaypail0-blog]

Discover the 21 Hottest Bars in L.A. Right Now

Shuffleboard on Block Party’s patio (Photo by Gabe Huerta)

By Andrea Richards

Debaucherous nights don’t have to leave you hurting; the new L.A. nightlife is all about imbibing high-quality, highly curated ingredients in fantastic locations that aren’t isolated by velvet ropes. Nothing is more passé than exclusivity—it seems the entire city has tired of scenes, bad behavior and bottle service. Instead, the hottest bars are all about community, from communal tables and retro games to menus that support locally made spirits, beers and wines. For a fun and enlightened night out, look no further.

Master Mixologists Go Veggie-Friendly

Thanks to innovative bartenders, cocktails might be good for more than just our mental health—there’s a healthy dose of vegetables being deployed in those shakers.

New York import Apotheke, a stylish joint in Chinatown where bartenders don white lab coats, augments alcohol’s medicinal value, mixing eucalyptus-infused tequila, mezcal, lime, a honeydew-spirulina puree and habanero bitters into its most popular cocktail, the Greenseer, which has the microgreen Bull’s Blood as a garnish (consider it a salad!). The extensive cocktail menu focuses on housemade ingredients, many of which are vegetable or herbal infusions.

Taking things a few steps further is Kevin Lee, the creative mastermind and head bartender behind downtown’s newly opened The Wolves, who makes all his own amari, liqueurs, bitters and vermouths from seasonal produce.

Eschewing commercially produced spirits means the freshest of ingredients, and Lee’s cocktails are truly singular. His Mostly Carrots combines lavender rose vermouth, juniper cordial, carrot liqueur, yuzu bitters and aromatic bitters (all homemade) with fresh lemon and soda and receives a final spritz of “pine fragrance” from one of the many small, hand-labeled bottles atop the bar. It’s no gimmick; the drink is perfectly balanced and as exquisite as the setting—a 1911 annex to the once-grand Alexandria Hotel that has been restyled to evoke the Belle Époque.

In December, a smaller upstairs bar will open as Le Néant, hosting intimate, omakase-inspired experiences. Here, Lee will create cocktails based on guest preferences using a list of curated farmers market ingredients that will change as the micro-seasons do.

Cocktails Take Flight

Omakase-style cocktail service, where guests receive a progression of drinks based on “bartender’s choice,” is the primary draw at The Walker Inn, a speakeasy-styled bar located within Koreatown’s Normandie Club that was among the first in L.A. to adopt the practice. There are two nightly seatings for this reservation-only trip through six to seven courses of creative cocktails (accompanied by small snacks) that follows both seasonality and the staff’s creative whims.

Similarly, Bar Centro at the SLS Beverly Hills (which is currently celebrating its 10-year anniversary) hosts “Bazaar Flights,” a bartender-led six-cocktail tasting menu that features whimsical and interactive presentations. One of the innovative drinks is even made using a recipe for milk punch originating from Benjamin Franklin.

In Malibu, Eat Your Drink author Matthew Biancaniello’s newly opened Mon-Li serves an intimate, 12-person, 12-course liquid tasting menu, where one can enjoy the cocktail chef’s delicious, seasonally inspired creations along with fantastic ocean views.

Ben Franklin’s Milk Punch, part of Bar Centro’s Bazaar Flights (Photo by Dustin Downing).

Vinyl Spinners

Some evenings are made for sampling cocktails and records at the same time, so, fortunately, a slew of new places inspired by Japanese hi-fi coffee shops and whiskey bars have landed in L.A.

The cozy and midcentury-styled In Sheep’s Clothing, in the Arts District, opens in the morning as a coffee shop and then transitions at night into a full-service bar. Guests are asked to keep conversations low and not to take photographs so that everyone has a chance to engage in communal listening.

Highland Park’s newly opened Gold Line is a bar actually owned by a record company (Stones Throw Records) that features a top-flight vintage hi-fi sound system and a collection of 7,500 vinyl records from label founder Peanut Butter Wolf.

Located above the 800 Degrees pizzeria in Hollywood is the diminutive Sunset & Vinyl, a 1970s-inspired lounge where no more than 35 people at a time drink cocktails designed specifically for the grooves. Guests here are invited to bring along hits from their own record collections.

Rec Rooms

Beyond listening parties, there are plenty of other communal pursuits that allow patrons to play more than the field. Vintage arcade games, pinball, lawn games and even shuffleboard offer a chance to interact over drinks—and, of course, an opportunity to show off high scores.

The latest incarnation of the “barcade” is Walt’s Bar, a folksy, corner bar in Eagle Rock that advertises fine wine and hot dogs on hand-painted signs. The long wooden bar is a great place to knock back a beer from a local brewer (rotating offerings from Mumford, Highland Park Brewery and Long Beach’s Beachwood Blendery are all on tap)— that is, if you can pull yourself away from a pinball machine long enough to finish it.

Echo Park’s popular Button Mash also has an extensive list of local beers, plus pinball and some 40 golden-age arcade cabinets. If the din of blips and bleeps isn’t strong enough, knock down pins at the historic Highland Park Bowl, a gorgeous refurbished bowling alley with steampunk style, wood-fired pizza and themed cocktails. Or try The Spare Room at the Hollywood Roosevelt, a gaming parlor with two vintage bowling lanes and plenty of strong drinks.

Locally Made Spirits

To savor local flavor, take a tour of one of Los Angeles’ distilleries. The first craft distillery in L.A. since Prohibition, Greenbar Distillery, in the Arts District, shows its hometown pride on every bottle of its small-batch, organic spirits with the tagline “Made in the City of Angels.” Greenbar showcases local produce and L.A. flavors to capture the city’s cultural terroir, and sales support nonprofit initiatives like feeding the hungry and planting trees. Visitors can tour the distillery or take a class in craft cocktail making.

Also in the Arts District, Lost Spirits Distillery offers two-hour tours—complete with a Willy Wonka-esque boat ride—plus a tasting of its rums and malts by reservation only.

The Future Is Female

Thankfully, gender equity in the hospitality industry has become a concern patrons are paying attention to, and the best way to support it is by frequenting women-owned establishments.

Earlier this year, three friends and businesswomen opened Genever, an art deco-styled lounge in Historic Filipinotown whose menu celebrates the history of women-run speakeasies, fresh ingredients, Filipino flavors and, of course, gin.

In Little Tokyo, using spirits from women-run distilleries is important to The Mermaid owners Katie Kildow and Arelene Roldan, whose newest venture is a fanciful, underwater-themed space serving tropical cocktails, local beers and wine.

Block Parties

The sport of barhopping in L.A. used to be akin to island-hopping—traversing great distances to land at an isolated destination. But today, the city is more connected—and more walkable—than ever before, thanks to a focus on locality.

Avoiding traffic and sticking to the neighborhood lets you turn every evening into a block party. Bars, restaurants and coffee shops are moving in close proximity to one another so all needs can be taken care of in a single block, like the one in Highland Park that boasts Highland Park Wine—a shop from the Silverlake Wine team—Triple Beam Pizza, restaurant Hippo and coffee shop Go Get Em Tiger.

Also in Highland Park, the aptly named Block Party—a modern beer garden that boasts a huge, sunny patio—serves craft beers and vino from small-production winemakers. The picnic tables and shuffleboard set invite guests to hang as a community, and food is welcomed from outside vendors (on Thursday nights, vendors sell vegan food all along York Boulevard). Similarly, on the Westside, the newly opened Broxton is a brewpub from Artisanal Brewers Collective that boasts something for everyone—even kids.

Perhaps the most elegant example of a space attempting to connect communities appears in one of the city’s most iconic landmarks, Union Station, which just welcomed the train-themed Imperial Western Beer Co., from 213 Hospitality, where travelers and locals come together in true beer-hall fashion for inhouse-brewed craft beer. Sharing space in the historic train depot is The Streamliner, a dramatic bar from the team behind the Varnish that aims to offer “finer, faster cocktails” at an affordable price. A delicious and more democratic gimlet? Yes, please.

Details

Apotheke, 1746 N. Spring St., downtown, 323.844.0717, apothekela.com Bar Centro, SLS Beverly Hills, 465 S. La Cienega Blvd., L.A., 310.246.5555, slsbeverlyhillshotel.com Block Party, 5052 York Blvd., L.A., 323.741.2747, blockpartyhlp.com Broxton, 1099 Westwood Blvd., L.A., 310.933.9949, broxtonla.com Button Mash, 1391 W. Sunset Blvd., L.A., 213.250.9903, buttonmashla.com Genever, 3123 Beverly Blvd., L.A., 213.908.5693, geneverla.com Gold Line, 5607 N. Figueroa St., L.A., 323.274.4496, goldlinebar.com Greenbar Distillery, 2459 E. 8th St., downtown, 213. 375.3668, greenbardistillery.com Highland Park Bowl, 5621 N. Figueroa St., L.A., 323.257.2695, highlandparkbowl.com Highland Park Wine, 5918 N. Figueroa St., L.A., 323.545.3535 Imperial Western Beer Co., 800 N. Alameda St., downtown, 213.270.0035, imperialwestern.com In Sheep’s Clothing, 710 E. 4th Place, downtown, 213.415.1937, insheepsclothinghifi.com Lost Spirits Distillery, 1235 E. 6th St., downtown, 213.505.2425, lostspirits.net The Mermaid, 428 E. 2nd St., downtown, 213.947.3347, themermaidla.com Mon-Li , 26025 Pacific Coast Hwy., Malibu, 310.525.1150, mon-li.com The Spare Room, The Hollywood Roosevelt, 7000 Hollywood Blvd., L.A., 323.769.7296, spareroomhollywood.com The Streamliner, 800 N. Alameda St., downtown, thestreamlinerbar.com Sunset & Vinyl, 1521 Vine St., Hollywood, 424.646.3375, sunsetandvinyl.com The Walker Inn, The Normandie Club, 3612 W. 6th St., L.A., 213.263.2709, thewalkerinnla.com Walt’s Bar, 4680 Eagle Rock Blvd., L.A., 323.739.6767 The Wolves, 519 S. Spring St., downtown, 213.265.7952, thewolvesdtla.com

Source: https://socalpulse.com/blog/2018/10/26/discover-the-21-hottest-bars-in-l-a-right-now/

[thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog]

LAW # 19 : KNOW WHO YOU’RE DEALING WITH—DO NOT OFFEND THE WRONG PERSON

JUDGEMENT

There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmaneuver some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then—never of fend or deceive the wrong person.

OPPONENTS, SUCKERS, AND VICTIMS: Preliminary Typology In your rise to power you will come across many breeds of opponent, sucker, and victim. The highest form of the art of power is the ability to distinguish the wolves from the lambs, the foxes from the hares, the hawks from the vultures. If you make this distinction well, you will succeed without needing to coerce anyone too much. But if you deal blindly with whomever crosses your path, you will have a life of constant sorrow, if you even live that long. Being able to recognize types of people, and to act accordingly, is critical. The following are the five most dangerous and difficult types of mark in the jungle, as identified by artists—con and otherwise—of the past.

When you meet a swordsman, draw your sword: Do not recite poetry to one who is not a poet.

FROM A CH’AN BUDDHIST CLASSIC, QUOTED IN THUNDER IN THE SKY, TRANSLATED BY THOMAS CLEARY, 1993

The Arrogant and Proud Man. Although he may initially disguise it, this man’s touchy pride makes him very dangerous. Any perceived slight will lead to a vengeance of overwhelming violence. You may say to yourself, “But I only said such-and-such at a party, where everyone was drunk....” It does not matter. There is no sanity behind his overreaction, so do not waste time trying to figure him out. If at any point in your dealings with a person you sense an oversensitive and overactive pride, flee. Whatever you are hoping for from him isn’t worth it.

THE REVENGE OF LOPE. DE AGUIRRE

[Lope de] Aguirre’s character is amply illustrated in an anecdote from the chronicle of Garcilaso de la Vega, who related that in 1548 Aguirre was a member of a platoon of soldiers escorting Indian slaves from the mines at Potosi [Bolivia] to a royal treasury depot. The Indians were illegally burdened with great quantities of silver, and a local official arrested Aguirre, sentencing him to receive two hundred lashes in lieu of a fine for oppressing the Indians. “The soldier Aguirre, having received a notification of the sentence, besought the alcalde that, instead of flogging him, he would put him to death, for that he was a gentleman by birth.... All this had no effect on the alcalde, who ordered the executioner to bring a beast, and execute the sentence. The executioner came to the prison, and put Aguirre on the beast.... The beast was driven on, and he received the lashes....” When freed, Aguirre announced his intention of killing the official who had sentenced him, the alcalde Esquivel. Esquivel’s term of office expired and he fled to Lima. three hundred twenty leagues away, but within fifteen days Aguirre had tracked him there. The frightened judge journeyed to Quito, a trip of four hundred leagues, and in twenty days Aguirre arrived. “When Esquivel heard of his presence, ” according to Garcilaso, “he made another journey of five hundred leagues to Cuzco; but in a few days Aguirre also arrived, having travelled on foot and without shoes, saying that a whipped man has no business to ride a horse, or to go where he would be seen by others. In this way, Aguirre followed his judge for three years, and four months.” Wearying of the pursuit, Esquivel remained at Cuzco, a city so sternly governed that he felt he would be safe from Aguirre. He took a house near the cathedral and never ventured outdoors without a sword and a dagger. “However, on a certain Monday, at noon, Aguirre entered his house, and having walked all over it, and having traversed a corridor, a saloon, a chamber, and an inner chamber where the judge kept his books, he at last found him asleep over one of his books, and stabbed him to death. The murderer then went out, but when he came to the door of the house, he found that he had forgotten his hat, and had the temerity to return and fetch it, and then walked down the street.”

THE GOLDEN DREAM: SEEKERS OF EL DORADO, WALKER CHAPMAN, 1967

The Hopelessly Insecure Man. This man is related to the proud and arrogant type, but is less violent and harder to spot. His ego is fragile, his sense of self insecure, and if he feels himself deceived or attacked, the hurt will simmer. He will attack you in bites that will take forever to get big enough for you to notice. If you find you have deceived or harmed such a man, disappear for a long time. Do not stay around him or he will nibble you to death.

Mr. Suspicion. Another variant on the breeds above, this is a future Joe Stalin. He sees what he wants to see—usually the worst—in other people, and imagines that everyone is after him. Mr. Suspicion is in fact the least dangerous of the three: Genuinely unbalanced, he is easy to deceive, just as Stalin himself was constantly deceived. Play on his suspicious nature to get him to turn against other people. But if you do become the target of his suspicions, watch out.

The Serpent with a Long Memory. If hurt or deceived, this man will show no anger on the surface; he will calculate and wait. Then, when he is in a position to turn the tables, he will exact a revenge marked by a cold-blooded shrewdness. Recognize this man by his calculation and cunning in the different areas of his life. He is usually cold and unaffectionate. Be doubly careful of this snake, and if you have somehow injured him, either crush him completely or get him out of your sight.

The Plain, Unassuming, and Often Unintelligent Man. Ah, your ears prick up when you find such a tempting victim. But this man is a lot harder to deceive than you imagine. Falling for a ruse often takes intelligence and imagination—a sense of the possible rewards. The blunt man will not take the bait because he does not recognize it. He is that unaware. The danger with this man is not that he will harm you or seek revenge, but merely that he will waste your time, energy, resources, and even your sanity in trying to deceive him. Have a test ready for a mark—a joke, a story. If his reaction is utterly literal, this is the type you are dealing with. Continue at your own risk.

TRANSGRESSIONS OF THE LAW

Transgression I

In the early part of the thirteenth century, Muhammad, the shah of Khwarezm, managed after many wars to forge a huge empire, extending west to present-day Turkey and south to Afghanistan. The empire’s center was the great Asian capital of Samarkand. The shah had a powerful, well-trained army, and could mobilize 200,000 warriors within days.

In 1219 Muhammad received an embassy from a new tribal leader to the east, Genghis Khan. The embassy included all sorts of gifts to the great Muhammad, representing the finest goods from Khan’s small but growing Mongol empire. Genghis Khan wanted to reopen the Silk Route to Europe, and offered to share it with Muhammad, while promising peace between the two empires.

Muhammad did not know this upstart from the east, who, it seemed to him, was extremely arrogant to try to talk as an equal to one so clearly his superior. He ignored Khan’s offer. Khan tried again: This time he sent a caravan of a hundred camels filled with the rarest articles he had plundered from China. Before the caravan reached Muhammad, however, Inalchik, the governor of a region bordering on Samarkand, seized it for himself, and executed its leaders.

Genghis Khan was sure that this was a mistake—that Inalchik had acted without Muhammad’s approval. He sent yet another mission to Muhammad, reiterating his offer and asking that the governor be punished. This time Muhammad himself had one of the ambassadors beheaded, and sent the other two back with shaved heads—a horrifying insult in the Mongol code of honor. Khan sent a message to the shah: “You have chosen war. What will happen will happen, and what it is to be we know not; only God knows.” Mobilizing his forces, in 1220 he attacked Inalchik’s province, where he seized the capital, captured the governor, and ordered him executed by having molten silver poured into his eyes and ears.

Over the next year, Khan led a series of guerrilla-like campaigns against the shah’s much larger army. His method was totally novel for the time—his soldiers could move very fast on horseback, and had mastered the art of firing with bow and arrow while mounted. The speed and flexibility of his forces allowed him to deceive Muhammad as to his intentions and the directions of his movements. Eventually he managed first to surround Samarkand, then to seize it. Muhammad fled, and a year later died, his vast empire broken and destroyed. Genghis Khan was sole master of Samarkand, the Silk Route, and most of northern Asia.

Interpretation

Never assume that the person you are dealing with is weaker or less important than you are. Some men are slow to take offense, which may make you misjudge the thickness of their skin, and fail to worry about insulting them. But should you offend their honor and their pride, they will overwhelm you with a violence that seems sudden and extreme given their slowness to anger. If you want to turn people down, it is best to do so politely and respectfully, even if you feel their request is impudent or their offer ridiculous. Never reject them with an insult until you know them better; you may be dealing with a Genghis Khan.

THE CROW AND THE SHEEP

A troublesome Crow seated herself on the back of a Sheep. The Sheep, much against his will, carried her backward and forward for a long time, and at last said, “If you had treated a dog in this way, you would have had your deserts from his sharp teeth.”To this the Crow replied, “I despise the weak, and yield to the strong. I know whom I may bully, and whom I must flatter; and thus I hope to prolong my life to a good old age.

FABLES, AESOP, SIXTH CENTURY B.C.

Transgression II

In the late 1910s some of the best swindlers in America formed a con-artist ring based in Denver, Colorado. In the winter months they would spread across the southern states, plying their trade. In 1920 Joe Furey, a leader of the ring, was working his way through Texas, making hundreds of thousands of dollars with classic con games. In Fort Worth, he met a sucker named J. Frank Norfleet, a cattleman who owned a large ranch. Norfleet fell for the con. Convinced of the riches to come, he emptied his bank account of $45,000 and handed it over to Furey and his confederates. A few days later they gave him his “millions,” which turned out to be a few good dollars wrapped around a packet of newspaper clippings.

Furey and his men had worked such cons a hundred times before, and the sucker was usually so embarrassed by his gullibility that he quietly learned his lesson and accepted the loss. But Norfleet was not like other suckers. He went to the police, who told him there was little they could do. “Then I’ll go after those people myself,” Norfleet told the detectives. “I’ll get them, too, if it takes the rest of my life.” His wife took over the ranch as Norfleet scoured the country, looking for others who had been fleeced in the same game. One such sucker came forward, and the two men identified one of the con artists in San Francisco, and managed to get him locked up. The man committed suicide rather than face a long term in prison.

Norfleet kept going. He tracked down another of the con artists in Montana, roped him like a calf, and dragged him through the muddy streets to the town jail. He traveled not only across the country but to England, Canada, and Mexico in search of Joe Furey, and also of Furey’s right-hand man, W. B. Spencer. Finding Spencer in Montreal, Norfleet chased him through the streets. Spencer escaped but the rancher stayed on his trail and caught up with him in Salt Lake City. Preferring the mercy of the law to Norfleet’s wrath, Spencer turned himself in.

Norfleet found Furey in Jacksonville, Florida, and personally hauled him off to face justice in Texas. But he wouldn’t stop there: He continued on to Denver, determined to break up the entire ring. Spending not only large sums of money but another year of his life in the pursuit, he managed to put all of the con ring’s leaders behind bars. Even some he didn’t catch had grown so terrified of him that they too turned themselves in.

After five years of hunting, Norfleet had single-handedly destroyed the country’s largest confederation of con artists. The effort bankrupted him and ruined his marriage, but he died a satisfied man.

Interpretation

Most men accept the humiliation of being conned with a sense of resignation. They learn their lesson, recognizing that there is no such thing as a free lunch, and that they have usually been brought down by their own greed for easy money. Some, however, refuse to take their medicine. Instead of reflecting on their own gullibility and avarice, they see themselves as totally innocent victims.

Men like this may seem to be crusaders for justice and honesty, but they are actually immoderately insecure. Being fooled, being conned, has activated their self-doubt, and they are desperate to repair the damage. Were the mortgage on Norfleet’s ranch, the collapse of his marriage, and the years of borrowing money and living in cheap hotels worth his revenge over his embarrassment at being fleeced? To the Norfleets of the world, overcoming their embarrassment is worth any price.

All people have insecurities, and often the best way to deceive a sucker is to play upon his insecurities. But in the realm of power, everything is a question of degree, and the person who is decidedly more insecure than the average mortal presents great dangers. Be warned: If you practice deception or trickery of any sort, study your mark well. Some people’s insecurity and ego fragility cannot tolerate the slightest offense. To see if you are dealing with such a type, test them first—make, say, a mild joke at their expense. A confident person will laugh; an overly insecure one will react as if personally insulted. If you suspect you are dealing with this type, find another victim.

Transgression III

In the fifth century B.C., Ch‘ung-erh, the prince of Ch’in (in present-day China), had been forced into exile. He lived modestly—even, sometimes, in poverty—waiting for the time when he could return home and resume his princely life. Once he was passing through the state of Cheng, where the ruler, not knowing who he was, treated him rudely. The ruler’s minister, Shu Chan, saw this and said, “This man is a worthy prince. May Your Highness treat him with great courtesy and thereby place him under an obligation!” But the ruler, able to see only the prince’s lowly station, ignored this advice and insulted the prince again. Shu Chan again warned his master, saying, “If Your Highness cannot treat Ch’ung-erh with courtesy, you should put him to death, to avoid calamity in the future.” The ruler only scoffed.

Years later, the prince was finally able to return home, his circumstances greatly changed. He did not forget who had been kind to him, and who had been insolent, during his years of poverty. Least of all did he forget his treatment at the hands of the ruler of Cheng. At his first opportunity he assembled a vast army and marched on Cheng, taking eight cities, destroying the kingdom, and sending the ruler into an exile of his own. Interpretation

You can never be sure who you are dealing with. A man who is of little importance and means today can be a person of power tomorrow. We forget a lot in our lives, but we rarely forget an insult.

How was the ruler of Cheng to know that Prince Ch’ung-erh was an ambitious, calculating, cunning type, a serpent with a long memory? There was really no way for him to know, you may say—but since there was no way, it would have been better not to tempt the fates by finding out. There is nothing to be gained by insulting a person unnecessarily. Swallow the impulse to offend, even if the other person seems weak. The satisfaction is meager compared to the danger that someday he or she will be in a position to hurt you.

Transgression IV

The year of 1920 had been a particularly bad one for American art dealers. Big buyers—the robber-baron generation of the previous century—were getting to an age where they were dying off like flies, and no new millionaires had emerged to take their place. Things were so bad that a number of the major dealers decided to pool their resources, an unheard-of event, since art dealers usually get along like cats and dogs.

Joseph Duveen, art dealer to the richest tycoons of America, was suffering more than the others that year, so he decided to go along with this alliance. The group now consisted of the five biggest dealers in the country. Looking around for a new client, they decided that their last best hope was Henry Ford, then the wealthiest man in America. Ford had yet to venture into the art market, and he was such a big target that it made sense for them to work together.

The dealers decided to assemble a list, “The 100 Greatest Paintings in the World” (all of which they happened to have in stock), and to offer the lot of them to Ford. With one purchase he could make himself the world’s greatest collector. The consortium worked for weeks to produce a magnificent object: a three-volume set of books containing beautiful reproductions of the paintings, as well as scholarly texts accompanying each picture. Next they made a personal visit to Ford at his home in Dearborn, Michigan. There they were surprised by the simplicity of his house: Mr. Ford was obviously an extremely unaffected man.

Ford received them in his study. Looking through the book, he expressed astonishment and delight. The excited dealers began imagining the millions of dollars that would shortly flow into their coffers. Finally, however, Ford looked up from the book and said, “Gentlemen, beautiful books like these, with beautiful colored pictures like these, must cost an awful lot!” “But Mr. Ford!” exclaimed Duveen, “we don’t expect you to buy these books. We got them up especially for you, to show you the pictures. These books are a present to you.” Ford seemed puzzled. “Gentlemen,” he said, “it is extremely nice of you, but I really don’t see how I can accept a beautiful, expensive present like this from strangers.” Duveen explained to Ford that the reproductions in the books showed paintings they had hoped to sell to him. Ford finally understood. “But gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “what would I want with the original pictures when the ones right here in these books are so beautiful?”

Interpretation

Joseph Duveen prided himself on studying his victims and clients in advance, figuring out their weaknesses and the peculiarities of their tastes before he ever met them. He was driven by desperation to drop this tactic just once, in his assault on Henry Ford. It took him months to recover from his misjudgment, both mentally and monetarily. Ford was the unassuming plain-man type who just isn’t worth the bother. He was the incarnation of those literal-minded folk who do not possess enough imagination to be deceived. From then on, Duveen saved his energies for the Mellons and Morgans of the world—men crafty enough for him to entrap in his snares.

KEYS TO POWER

The ability to measure people and to know who you’re dealing with is the most important skill of all in gathering and conserving power. Without it you are blind: Not only will you offend the wrong people, you will choose the wrong types to work on, and will think you are flattering people when you are actually insulting them. Before embarking on any move, take the measure of your mark or potential opponent. Otherwise you will waste time and make mistakes. Study people’s weaknesses, the chinks in their armor, their areas of both pride and insecurity. Know their ins and outs before you even decide whether or not to deal with them.

Two final words of caution: First, in judging and measuring your opponent, never rely on your instincts. You will make the greatest mistakes of all if you rely on such inexact indicators. Nothing can substitute for gathering concrete knowledge. Study and spy on your opponent for however long it takes; this will pay off in the long run.

Second, never trust appearances. Anyone with a serpent’s heart can use a show of kindness to cloak it; a person who is blustery on the outside is often really a coward. Learn to see through appearances and their contradictions. Never trust the version that people give of themselves—it is utterly unreliable.

Image: The Hunter. He does not lay the same trap for a wolf as for a fox. He does not set bait where no one will take it. He knows his prey thoroughly, its habits and hideaways, and hunts accordingly.

Authority: Be convinced, that there are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, some time or other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which they certainly will not, if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it for ever. (Lord Chesterfield, 1694-1773)

REVERSAL

What possible good can come from ignorance about other people? Learn to tell the lions from the lambs or pay the price. Obey this law to its fullest extent; it has no reversal—do not bother looking for one.

[isakthedragon]

A Dragon Sized Adventure Chapter 41

Chapter 41: The Space Groove

*Crash and all of the other heroes finally enter the Space Terrarium. There are plenty of windows that look out into space here. Most of the walkways here are just scaffolding that is hanging from the ceiling, letting space be freely seen throughout the rest of it (like the Death Egg). There also plenty of machinery and screens about that seem to check the chip itself, although messing with them does nothing, so the might be here for decoration.*

*The doors opens like what you would see on a sci-fi set, with them sliding into the wall.*

Sonic: “Aha! I see we got the futuristic doors here. It must mean we are in the last section, the furthest we can go! Eggman always makes it so obvious.”

Shadow: “Well, Sonic, most of our adventures seem to end in space, somehow.”

Von Clutch asides to Pasadena: “See, I told you they do self-referential humor. They do know they are video game characters.”

Crash: “So then Eggman and Cortex are probably going to be fought here? Sweet!” *He smiles and takes the lead…*

—–

Level 96: Space Walk

Crates: 157

Time Trial

Sapphire: 1:30.00

Gold: 1:25.00

Platinum: 1:20.00

Mutants to Save: 6

Helping Partner: Silver

Badniks: ‘Alien’ Lab Assistant Pawn: Barely passing not being a direct copy of ‘that’ creature, this jet black Lab Assistant Pawn tends to pop the top of its head open and fires a ray gun shot from it’s mouth. Shield Lab Assistant Pawn: They stand on the narrow walkway, shoving their shields to push you backwards. They are probably no match to just being ‘thrown’ away into a NITRO crate.

Robots: Robot Walker: Strange little contraptions that just walk around. Don’t touch them, unless you want to be atomized. Sparky Tentacle-bot Units: Annoying little robots that move around with electric tentacles. They will raise and lower them to try and surprise you as you attack. Slap-E: Cortex’s robot servants that will slap anyone who gets close. They are also very melodramatic.

Mutant: Darth Chimpandog: A Chimpanzee + Dog hybrid that wears a Darth Vader helmet, oxygen pack and some futuristic samurai armor. It climbs around aimlessly until it spots you, which will cause it to swing about and use its laser sword to cut you. Znu: Strange little balls of nightmare that only wear underwear. They work for Cotex since there are few Grimlies about. If you don’t attack them, they will use their flashlight as a laser shot to hurt you.

*Cortex appears as a hologram with Uka-Uka.* “ *Sigh.* So the end is in sight. Gather the last 5 crystals and once again, you will have defeated me. Whatever.” *He leaves.*

Uka-Uka is confused on how to go on. “I… um… we will destroy you? Hmm, that doesn’t sound right… Damn it! Cortex! You threw off my groove!” *He disappears too.*

Well, that was strange. But, welcome everyone, to your second home: SPACE!!! (Echo) … Too much? Aw, well. Anyway, Crash and Silver are entering the dangerous workings of the Death Head and must avoid the various traps that line the walkways like pistons, shrink rays, and flipping platforms (and be careful touching the sides of these unless you want to get burned and have cooked bandicoot and hedgehog for dinner, which is coincidentally what Eggman’s eating :P ). And try not to fall off the sides of the walkways either unless you want to experience a full vacuum.

Achievement Unlocked: One Small Step for Bandicoots and Hedgehogs...

—–

Level 97: Rocket and Roll

Crates: 125

Time Trial

Sapphire: 1:35.00

Gold: 1:30.00

Platinum: 1:25.00

Mutants to Save: 6

Helping Partner: Spyro

Crash dons his jetpack for this level as zero gravity is introduced into the tubes. Both he and Spyro must make their way through the tubes, avoiding things such as the lasers, floating wires, and hot pipes the clutter and constrict the flyable path. Near the end, the hazards start disappearing as the final doors open up into the open space outside of the space station. I wonder where we are flying to...

Achievement Unlocked: Feeling Weightless

—–

Level 98: The Space Race

Crates: 64

Time Trial

Sapphire: 1:10.00

Gold: 1:05.00

Platinum: 1:00.00

Helping Partner: Sonic

Badniks: UFO Lab Assistant Pawns: They fly around in their small ships, trying to abduct you. It is usually an insta-kill unless you have invincibility.

*Crash and Sonic are on the moon floating about the Earth. The Death Head looms in the background, floating silently in an eerie unison.*

Sonic: “So, I heard from Shads and Ames that you wanted to race me, huh?”

Crash nods. “Yeah!”

Sonic: “Well, I’m not one to say not to a competition.” *He smiles in return.* “Now… what can we use for a raceway…” *He looks at their surroundings and finds the moon here has a futuristic city on it (Like Future Frenzy and Gone Tomorrow) .* “Hey, why do you guys have a city on your moon?”

Crash looks. “I… That shouldn’t exist. Cortex did succeed in making a city for him in the future but this one seems to have been made now…”

Sonic shrugs. “All I can think of is that Eggman probably helped him make it.” *And it shows, since there are neon signs everywhere that have stuff like ‘Neo Cortex’ and ‘Eggman’.* “Heh, I bet they won’t mind if we mess around here?”

Crash: “Well, I don’t care. And I know you don’t care, so…”

Sonic: “True that. Ready to race?”

Crash: “Hold on…” *He uses the Emeralds to make them Super.* “If only for a fair race.”

Sonic: “And if anything gets destroyed, aw, well.” *He smirks and both of them get ready...*

It’s a very fast paced race through Cortex’s and Eggman’s city on the moon. Hovering cars are flying all over the streets but they shouldn’t have been driving today as they are the ones to go flying if you bump or crash into them. The big danger here are the UFO Lab Assistant Pawns that fly about to attempt to abduct you, which, in this super form, is just more of an annoying slow down. Keep on the lookout for transport tubes that can pinball you ahead a few streets. And Sonic is not holding back on his speed so you do not want to make too many mistakes. Remember there is a very shiny 2nd gem on the line if you can beat Sonic.

(If Crash wins:) Crash is ecstatic. “YIPPEE!! I did it! I beat the fastest thing alive!”

Sonic smiles: “Indeed you did, Crash. A wonderful job.”

(If Sonic wins:) Sonic: “You did well, Crash, but you see why I am called the fastest thing alive.”

Crash is still smiling: “I know, but it was fun to race you all the same.”

(In either case:) Sonic: “Now, come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

Achievement Unlocked: Going Super Sonic

—–

Level 99: Space Ships

Crates: 179

Time Trial

Sapphire: 1:50.00

Gold: 1:45.00

Platinum: 1:40.00

Mutants to Save: 6

Helping Partner: Cream

Badniks: Space Lab Assistant Pawns: They carry ray guns and will fire them with good precision unless you keep moving. Falco: They sure do love jetting around and dropping Pawns and bombs. E-2000: Eggman’s humanoid androids that love lasers and shields. If you get close, they might fire it off at you. If you attack them first, they will use their shield to block attacks until it lowers it again. It’s best to attack it as it fires its laser. Egg Cannon: Avoid those targeting reticles or get shelled.

Crash and Cream find themselves warped high up on the city’s skyline traversing across the rooftops as badniks keep up a relenting attack from the roofs and on the flying ships (With the Eggman and ‘N’ insignia on them) that are passing around. Cannons also send shells their way in an attempt to destroy the duo. Keep on moving to avoid them and soon you will start crossing the ships and destroying the cannons that fired at you. It appears we are taking the ships somewhere, but where…

I bet if you messed around on the ships, i bet you might find a gem in one of them...

Achievement Unlocked: The Future Is Now, Thanks To Science!

—–

Level 100: Gravity Crash

Crates: 220

Time Trial

Sapphire: 2:20.00

Gold: 2:15.00

Platinum: 2:10.00

Mutants to Save: 7

Helping Partner: Shadow

Badniks: E-2000R: An upgraded version of the E-2000 that has more health. Oct: Now comes in space octopus flavor. :P Mirror: What bounces off it gets shot back to you. :P

Crash and Shadow keep fighting their way across the various ‘air’ships, taking down all the weaponry along the way. Soon afterwards, they take us back into the Death Head and into the flipping gravity sections of the spaceship. Try to keep a steady balance of speed and grace to avoid the most dangerous badniks and traps that can be faced. And spike balls. Lots of spike balls. I think they like them too much. Either way, our end is just outside the doors that lead into the core…

Oh!, but near the beginning, if you have found all of the colored gems, you can take a secret path through dangerous space of lasers and wildly swinging platforms and past traps to find a second gem and a secret way out of here.

Achievement Unlocked: Flipping and Flopping

—–

*Crash and Shadow end up warped with Dr. Cortex and Uka-Uka in the center of the Space Terrarium where there was a big walkway with a small circular hole in the center.*

Cortex sounds tired as he said: “I’m sorry, I bet you expecting me to be angry and full of rage; incensed beyond belief. Meh, I’m not.”

Uka-Uka: “AND IN FACT, WE’RE FURIOUS-” *He is confused.* “Cortex? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re not supposed to say that!”

Crash and Shadow stand there in confusion as they argue.

Cortex: “What’s the point? They’re just going to defeat us. I’m on a freaking hoverboard and they’re probably going to throw me in that gated hole.”

Uka-Uka: “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

*Cortex seems distant, as though he knows something, but won’t say.*

Uka-Uka: “Whatever… -BUT IT SEEMS YOU OVERLOOKED ONE SMALL DETAIL YOU BANDICOOT AND HEDGEHOG!! NOW THAT YOU HAVE GATHERED ALL THE CRYSTALS, ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS TAKE THEM FROM YOU!!!”

Aku-Aku: “Not if we stop you, brother!” *Aku-Aku and Uka-Uka start fighting each other as we fight Cortex…*

Boss: Cortex

Aku-Aku and Uka-Uka start attacking each other with a huge laser that spreads across the entire arena. You’ll have to jump over it to avoid it. Cortex, meanwhile, is flying around the arena with a barrier and will be shooting shots from his ray-gun at you that must be avoided or you’ll get burned. Soon afterwards, he will throw mines that must be avoided in radius as well. Cortex will then drop his barrier so you can attack him and get him off his hoverboard. You must then attack him and then knock him into the center grate that has broken off and he’ll fall in for damage. Uka-Uka will then save him and return him to his hoverboard. The process will repeat 2 more, but the masks will then spin around the room in a vortex, and then attack and cause an explosion for the last bit.

Achievement Unlocked: It’s Raining Science!

-----

Cortex screams “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” as he falls down the hole and the hoverboard gets destroyed.

Uka-Uka: “No! My meal ticket!” *He chases after Cortex through the hole and is shown that they are falling in space and towards the Earth. Uka-Uka catches up with Cortex.* “Got you! Now…” *He tries to teleport away, but it fails. Eggman had made sure along with shutting off the transport system, he also connected Uka-Uka to it and blocked him from transporting too.* “What?! NO! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

*Both he and Cortex fall to the Earth in a shimmer.*

Aku-Aku: “Hmmm… why did my brother not disappear away with Cortex?” *He shows that he can still teleport, suggesting he is unaffected.*

*Sonic and other help return the grate back to covering the hole. Before anyone can say anything, the monitors around them cut off what they were showing and now display Eggman or his insignia.*

Eggman: “Oh, just a little something I did to the dumbass mask. I made it impossible for him to teleport away so they will crash into the Earth.”

Sonic: “That seems… evil? Why did you not do the same to Aku-Aku?”

Eggman: “Because he isn’t my target… besides, it’s essentially an offering to send you guys home.”

Sonic decides to joke: “You hear that guys? We get to go home!”

Eggman: “Ah, not so fast.”

Sonic: “Figures.”

Eggman: “Don’t leave so soon, you still need to find all of the gems too. I was told by that mask that having all of them works just the same as the crystals. So, why don’t you be good deliveryhogs and find them for me.” *He cuts his feed.*

Crash sighs: “We have to find those gems before he can get his hands on them!”

Sonic: “Good, and then we can finally give Eggman a piece of our minds.”

*The heroes find a platform that takes them to a new terrarium…*

Next Time: It’s B O N U S time in the Bonus Terrarium.

[ericpoptone]

The San Gabriel River is one of three major rivers which drains and flows through the Los Angeles Basin. The river drains a watershed of roughly 1,850 square kilometers and is bounded by the watersheds of the Los Angeles River to the west and the Santa Ana River watershed to the southeast. For most of its length, it’s paralleled by a paved trail, which I decided to ride the length of on my bicycle, named Cream Soda.

The headwaters of the San Gabriel River are located above the San Gabriel Valley in the San Gabriel Mountains, at the confluence of the North, West, and East forks. For most of the river’s existence, it flowed freely through forests, grasslands, and marshes as it made its way from the mountains to the Pacific Ocean. In hot summers and autumns, the river would practically run dry. In wet winters and springs, the river would flood, and when the waters confronted sufficient debris, carve an entirely new course.

The Spanish founded the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel along the river’s bank in September of 1771. September comes toward the protracted end of the long, dry season and on average receives only six millimeters of rainfall. I have to wonder whether or not any of the Tongva (who had an extra 3,500 years or so of experience upon which to draw) were consulted about the wisdom of building a church in a floodplain in which several waterways converge. When winter came, sure enough, the San Gabriel River obliterated the structure. More floods were recorded, including serious ones in 1862 and 1938, by which the US Army Corps of Engineers had begun building dams and channelizing the river. Today, dams, dikes, and concrete channels tightly control the river’s course and flow rate.

As luck would have it, the week before my ride along the river, I’d been hiking on Iron Mountain, near the confluence of the San Gabriel River and Iron Fork, in the vicinity of the Bridge to Nowhere. High above the dams, the river still feels quite natural, and you’re reminded that it’s not just a flood control channel, but home to endemic species like the coastal rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss irideus), mountain yellow-legged frog (Rana muscosa), Santa Ana sucker (Catostomus santaanae), and Santa Ana speckled dace (Rhinichthys osculus ssp.).

Northern terminus of the Azusa BikeTrail

A week later I returned to the river, via Metro’s Gold Line train. I disembarked at Irwindale Station and began by ascending to the top of the Azusa BikeTrail Head, a short extension of the San Gabriel River Trail which terminates in the San Gabriel Canyon. There, the riparian wilderness ends as it meets suburban encroachment in the form of a sleepy, gated residential community wistfully named Mountain Cove.

Northern entrance to the San Gabriel River Trail

At the entrance to the San Gabriel River Trail, I began to encounter both more walkers and garishly colored, wrap-around sunglasses-wearing roadies. This stretch of the path passes through empty pits and mines — and landfills where pits and mines used to be. It always brings to my mind thoughts of the plains of Isengard.

Santa Fe Dam Nature Trail

After briefly stopping to walk around the Santa Fe Dam Nature Center and Nature Trail (where a man walking a dog asked me whether or not I was “having fun yet”), I hopped back on Cream Soda and rode across the Santa Fe Dam, a large barrier which impounds the Santa Fe Control Basin. The strange landscape seems like the natural home for the Original Renaissance Pleasure Faire, which moved to the Santa Fe Dam Recreational Area in 2005.

South of the dam the river flows parallel to the 605 Freeway, also known as the San Gabriel River Freeway. There the river bottom was muddy and marshy, dotted with scummy ponds and greasy puddles and — to continue the Middle Earth allusions, not a little like the Dead Marshes,  albeit populated by coots and geese in place of the Battle of Dagorlad’s fallen.

Looking south from the dam

I stopped on near the edge of another gravel pit, partially filled with water. I couldn’t help but wonder what could be done with the platform in the middle, given a bit of imaginative adaptive reuse. Imagine what an exciting home the industrial landscape would make with a bit of fixing up. Perhaps a mixed use complex named The Bartertown Shops at Irwindale or something like that.

As I rode past a couple of parks, schools, country clubs, and neighborhoods separated from the river by freeways, chain link and barbed wire fences, and cinder block and corrugated metal barriers. I began to dream about a river in which those amenities were more connected to the waterway. Surely chain link and barbed wire don’t hold back flood waters and serve merely as ugly annoyances.

In 2005, the Amigos de los Rios introduced what they called the Emerald Necklace Vision Plan, a vision for the region which would connect parks and riparian greenways along the Rio Hondo and San Gabriel River. The idea of hundreds of hectares of interconnected parks is something I’d love to see come to fruition.

Trees strewn with trash

As I continued south, landfills and mines increasingly gave way to nurseries and stables. Whittier Narrows is the name given to the water gap between the Repetto and Montebello hills to the west and the Puente Hills to the east; as such it marks the gateway between the San Gabriel Valley and Southeast Los Angeles.

Whittier Narrows Dam

At the southern edge is the Whittier Narrows Dam, a flood control device which began operation in 1957. The river sufficiently tamed, suburban tracts sprang up in the previously flood-prone vicinity from the 1930s to the 1970s, but especially in the 1940s and ‘50s.

After I passed the dam, I noticed how much more lush and cleaner the riparian landscape was. The trees north of the dam were mostly denuded by rushing water which replaced foliage with plastic garbage. The contrast south of the dam was startling. I stared at the muddy water for a bit and things got a bit Tarkovksyesque when a riderless horse appeared, running around between the banks of the river.

A short time after I realized I’d traversed two-thirds of the trail’s length, I stopped to rest. In a tree-lined stretch, I drank a bit of wine from my flask and watched a monarch butterfly float on the breeze. In the distance, automobiles idled on the 605, occasionally approaching a snail’s pace. I had the idea of playing Style Council’s “Down by the Seine” but my charge was getting low and I settled for listening to it in my head, as it had been for much of the ride by that point.

Nice, shady spot for a break

Next to Rio San Gabriel Park, between Downey and Norwalk, the concrete channelization of the river begins. I suppose an argument could be made for its industrial, unromanticized, Neue Sachlichkeit appeal — but it doesn’t take long for its lifeless monotony to grow wearisome — or maybe it’s just the steady increase in the strength of the headwinds which make this stretch feel like a bit of a grind. Of course, the proliferation of parking lots do nothing to increase the area’s appeal and I noticed that the lycra set have given way to younger cyclists who seem to be aimlessly riding in circles instead of training for some grueling multiple stage bicycle race.

The channelization begins

Around the time I reached Cerritos‘s Liberty Park I began to encounters runners who seemed to be participating in some sort of riverside marathon. As I got closer to the beach, the modes of transportation grew more varied and often less practical. There were people on skateboards, scooters, inline roller skates, and recumbent bicycles. It started to get chilly and I put back on my track jacket.

Near the northern edge of Long Beach is a shopping center Long Beach Towne Center. The spelling of its name of is inconsistently archaic. Why is isn’t it “Longe Beach Towne Centre?” Why is it so named when it lies at the northeastern corner of the city — far from Long Beach’s center? Why go the quaint route at all, when naming an unremarkable Wal-mart-anchored strip mall that’s not even twenty years old? There’s time to contemplate this and more when riding past more than 50 hectares of barren asphalt parking.

Just south of the complex is Long Beach’s largest park, El Dorado Park. The park was never developed with homes due to its location within the San Gabriel River’s flood zone. The land was sold to Long Beach by the Bixby family, whose charming ranch house is located not far from the river and currently operates as Rancho Los Alamitos Historic Ranch and Gardens.

Confluence of Coyote Creek and the San Gabriel River

Near the confluence of the San Gabriel River and Coyote Creek, the San Gabriel River’s channelization once again ends, and a measured degree of wildness returns. At that point, the San Gabriel River flows fairly closely to the border between Los Angeles and Orange counties, briefly crossing entirely into the latter as it passes between Seal Beach’s College Estates Park and Edison Park.

End of the channelized section

Further south, the river flows between two generating stations, Alamitos and Haynes. To me their industrial landscapes and architecture are surely as beautiful as celebrated structures like Richard Rogers’s bowellist Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris or the Lloyd’s Building in London. Separated from the river by the Haynes station is the world’s best-named retirement community, Leisure World.

Alamitos Generating Station

Aesthetics aside, the two power plants have wrought considerable environmental devastation on the brackish marshlands on which they’re situated, Los Cerritos Wetlands. Today, only a third of the once vast wetlands remains, albeit in a degraded state. Thanks to Los Cerritos Wetlands Authority, efforts are underway to purchase the remaining 314 hectares and restore the habitat which supports many species of flora and fauna, including several endangered species.

Oil extraction where once were wetlands

The river finally ends at Alamitos Bay, where it empties into the Pacific Ocean. The air was cool and the sky overcast. Unlike the Long Beach Towne Center, River’s End Cafe is located conveniently where its name suggests. Although a bit saddle sore, I didn’t feel that much worse for wear but found that I had worked up a sufficient appetite to convince me that everything that I ate and drank was the best example of its kind. Afterward, I was frankly ready for a nap, but I still had to get home.

Approaching Alamitos Bay

A ten kilometer ride to the Downtown Long Beach Blue Line Station was followed by an hour ride back to 7th Street/Metro Center, a transfer to Union Station, another transfer to the Gold Line, and then another eight kilometer ride home. I suppose I could’ve just bicycled up the Los Angeles River, but then I plan to do that this weekend.

End of the trail

_____

FURTHER READING

Alvaro Parra‘s “Santa Fe Dam to Seal Beach: Biking the San Gabriel River Path” (2013)

Eric Brightwell is an adventurer, writer, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener who is always seeking writing, speaking, traveling, and art opportunities — or salaried work. He is not interested in generating advertorials, clickbait, listicles, or other 21st century variations of spam. Brightwell has written for Angels Walk LA, Amoeblog, Boom: A Journal of California, diaCRITICS, Hidden Los Angeles, and KCET Departures. His art has been featured by the American Institute of Architects, the Architecture & Design Museum, the Craft & Folk Art Museum, Form Follows Function, Los Angeles County Store, the book Sidewalking, Skid Row Housing Trust, and 1650 Gallery. Brightwell has been featured as subject in The Los Angeles Times, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Magazine, LAist, Eastsider LA, Boing Boing, Los Angeles, I’m Yours, and on Notebook on Cities and Culture. He has been a guest speaker on KCRW‘s Which Way, LA? and at Emerson College. Art prints of Brightwell’s maps are available from 1650 Gallery and on various products from Cal31. He is currently writing a book about Los Angeles and you can follow him on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

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There It Is, Revitalize It — The San Gabriel River The San Gabriel River is one of three major rivers which drains and flows through the…