San Pedro to Yuma, Arizona.
Today was a sad departure. Marg is the newcomer to BGC, dating back to only 1976 (😊), but she and Bev had a powerful and remarkable, and very deep, relationship, as do I with Marg. Leaving this morning was difficult and sad. I cried a lot when I first started out on this trip, but have cried less and less, but today, as I thought about the three of us while driving south, I found myself moved to tears repeatedly, and my trip to San Pedro and after was emotional for me. Thoughts of what Bev went through and all she lost, and thoughts of how things used to be, just kept crowding my mind.
Mark left early to begin his first class of the semester. It was good spending time with him, and he definitely gave me stuff to think about, and David and I said our goodbyes by phone. I had a quick breakfast drink, said goodbye to the very sweet and wonderful M’Lou and Perla, and then, even more sadly to Marg.
As I drove, I thought of Mark’s ideas, which are very Buddhist/Zen, about radical acceptance, as, by contrast, a Phoebe Snow song played on the radio, “Never Letting Go,” which is sort of the polar opposite. I choose never letting go.
“Never letting go, all my life I give to you. I’m never letting go, never ceasing, our love grows, ever increasing. I won’t let you go. We were made for each other.”
After leaving Claremont, I headed south west to San Pedro, the town where Marg grew up and the home of several BGC trips, including most recently February 2020, just a couple of weeks before the start of the pandemic. San Pedro is a special place for that reason, and special to me, even thought I was there just a couple of times. It seems to me to be the west coast home of the Baltimore Girls Club. I spread some more of Bev’s ashes in front of the house, and thought about how things were more dramatically changing for Bev that last trip. And that really was the last trip together for all five of the BGC.
I could clearly heard the crazy cat-like sounds of the wild peacocks roaming the streets, and there they were. Where do they come from? Why are they there? Why do they make those nutty sounds? I drove around a little, and then headed down to Paseo del Mar, a nature preserve overlooking the Pacific, where I spread more of Bev’s ashes down the cliffs and toward the ocean.
Full of emotion, I left San Pedro, although I’m not really sure why it affected me so, and I began my journey to Yuma, Arizona, where I’ll be spending the night. Yuma is a long way from San Pedro, almost 300 miles, but I decided to go the longer way, via San Diego, as it would be a prettier journey, following the California coast line to San Diego, along Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, and then heading inland, east to Arizona.
That’s right, it was pretty, which is an understatement, but the heavy stop-and-go traffic through the many beach towns and zones along the Pacific Coast Highway, and the constant traffic lights, just became too much. So, after heading through the upscale and beautiful beach towns of Huntington Beach and then Newport Beach, I reluctantly headed inland to take route 5, as I could see it was going to take hours to reach San Diego this way, and it still over 2½ hours from San Diego to Yuma.
Heading inland didn’t work out any better, though. I probably could have saved time going the long way, actually, as route 5 had multiple accidents dotted along it, and the traffic was stop-and-go for miles and miles and miles, lasting well over an hour in slow downs, and maybe closer to 1½ hours. It took me ages to get clear of the traffic and pick up some speed again.
Still, although not the Pacific Coast Highway, the inland route was very picturesque, with the terrain changing dramatically as I headed further inland toward Arizona, snaking along the Mexican border, which, as I got closer to Yuma, was perhaps 5 miles to the south and west. The scenery was dramatic at times, heading through fast curvy mountain roads, passing through rock filled canyons.
As I got closer to the Arizona line, and Yuma is literally just over the line, I was traveling fast on the twisty mountain roads, which by this time were clear of all that earlier traffic. As I cleared the mountains, the road became long, flat, and straight, dropping in elevation from almost 4,200 feet at the Crestwood Summit of the Cuyamaca mountains to sea level, and I was traveling, along with a few other cars, around 86-90 mph, eating up those long miles – and gas; I once again suddenly realized I was close to an empty tank, but no worries as there were gas stations within easy range… even though they were charging $5.99 a gallon, compared to $4.15 in San Pedro and $3.39 in Yuma.
The drive was exhilarating – and hot, with temperatures reaching around 107 degrees Fahrenheit. By the time I arrived in Yuma and the sun was going down, the temp had dropped to 106 degree, and now, at time of writing, around 11 at night, it’s about 95 degrees outdoors.
I took a drive through town, night time by now. For a Saturday night, not exactly jumping. I’ll check it out tomorrow, before heading on for Sedona, as I was especially hoping for some of that old west feel, like in Virginia City and Dodge, but I’m not too sure I’m going to easily find it. But now, to bed.