Fresh Water....

So, a few weeks ago we went up to Lake Tahoe and rented a cabin for the weekend. This time we actually stayed in something that could be called a "cabin". It had a bathroom, a bedroom, and lots of wood panelling.

Tahoe really is a gem in California's crown. I feel privileged to spend time up there. The stunningly blue water commands attention and admiration. Surrounded by mountains that still have snow at the tops in September, the lake reflects the sky and reminds you that real beauty exists outside of the human experience.

Too bad it's so frickin' cold that you can't swim in the thing though.

I swear, it's like putting your feet in the North Sea. The photo above (yet another example of how my wife can take far better photos than me) while romantic and one of my favorites ever caught on film belies the reality that poor little Lachlan didn't know what hit his little toes. It wasn't too bad at ankle deep, but deeper than that, pfft.....it was popsicle city. Mind you, our dog didn't care. We couldn't get him out of the water, but then again he is a Labrador and so, doesn't know any better.

We stayed up on the north shore, which is ....ahem....where the natives go to. That south shore is for the tourists. ANYWAY, there is a hike up to the top of this mountain that is worth the trek. Heather is a big fan of views, and man, there were views a plenty. The camera sometimes can not capture all that you see, but only reminds us that we were there.

On the Saturday we took this cable-car, gondola thingy up to the top of Squaw Valley. It's great that they still keep this place open in the summer because the hiking up there is fantastic. There is a surreal aspect to it though as you are hiking about in the summer sun with ski lifts all around you. They sit lonely and unused, just waiting for the winter.

Ah, the poor little buggers. I have to consistently remind myself that we take them out on these trips to somehow influence their subconcious and expose them to a variety of experiences, but sometimes I think they'd rather just be at home playing with their toys and spitting up on the carpet.

On the last day we were there we took a 5 mile hike up to the top of a ridgeline. The promise of a mountain lake at the summit made it seem like an ideal pursuit, but it proved to be a pretty steep 1,500 foot upclimb. There was indeed a lake at the top, and the scenery was the wild California chaparral forest I love so much, but man, those packs proved heavy. The boys are getting bigger, and what used to be ambling day hikes before they were born are now more like military marches since we now strap them on our backs.

California. It has been very good to me indeed.

Jim Henson???

Why is it that everyone says I look like Jeff Daniels, but he is nowhere to be found on this collage. What's with Kirk Hammett anyway? I hardly look like that goofy Metallica guy in the first place.

David Schwimmer? Oh dear. You don't see a lot of swooning over that guy.

Ferndale 2006

A few weeks ago we made the trip up north to Ferndale, CA to see some friends of ours. It's a quite a lengthy journey and takes 6 hours to get there. 6 hours in a car with two 6 month olds, a dog, and a heck of amount of gear is a fair challenge, but we did it. Heather and I are like that. It's funny though, because if you travel 6 hours from one end of the UK to the other you'll cover about half of the entire island. Incredible that it only gets you to another part of the state here in Cali.

We were meeting up with Chris and Randi. Chris is an old pal of mine from high school, and regardless that he lives pretty far from me, he still is in the same state, so we had to go see him. Not to mention that his wife is due to give birth virtually anyday now, so time was of the essence before they have far too much to deal with and won't be able to entertain the veritable circus that is my family.

As Chris and Randi live in an apartment, Heather and I decided to rent a "cabin". The word "cabin" sounds very romantic indeed, however, the reality of ours was one that looked like it was picked up at IKEA and put together in about 4 hours. Don't get me wrong, it had heat and was pretty solid, but let's just say space was at a premium. The picture above was taken in front of our only window. We had two portable cribs, Heather and I, and our dog in this place. It was like a cave. I felt like a caveman sleeping amongst my clan. That was pretty cool.

ANYWAY, I've been wanting to visit Chris for some time now as he is working at this remote recording studio which he has told me a lot about. It sounded intriguing. A proper studio stuck out in the back and beyond of California. I imagined some small-ish operation that catered to Humboldt County hippy rockers.........but man, was I wrong. In short, I've never seen anything quite like it. Let's put it this way, I'm sure if The Rolling Stones were sent here to record their next album they wouldn't mind at all. This place was rocknroll heaven. More to follow below.

Randi and Chris (plus my progeny) on their balcony. They live right on main street in Ferndale. It is a town that time has left behind and Hollywood pines for. Incredibly charming, strikingly quaint, and an amazing representation of old California coastal towns. The place is so friggin' far from anything that it has the extra bonus of few tourists. You feel as if you've stumbled upon a place that is secreted away from the world. You see that little blue building behind Randi? That's a PUBLIC restroom. When is the last time you saw one of those anywhere?

Chris in the studio he works in. I wanted to post all of the pictures I took in this place, but there are far too many. The studio is basically a mansion that has been fitted out as a recording space. Every room was designed with specific instruments in mind. There are individual rooms for guitars, drums, etc., each one conducive to that particular instruments acoustics. They have an in-house chef on hand everyday, a lounge that would not look out of place in Trump tower, grand pianos everywhere, and when Chris showed me how every single room was wired to be used as a potential recording space which included the multiple bathrooms, I pretty much just gave up on being impressed and moved into being overwhelmed. When I asked Chris how much this place cost to put together and fit out, he paused for a moment and said, "Oh, I dunno man, lots of millions". Considering that the main engineering sound board in the place cost 3 million alone, I'm sure he was being conservative.

A surplus of guitars are kept on hand in case the recording musicians suddenely feel the urge to incorporate a rare Les Paul into the session. I almost passed out when he showed me this room. When I asked Chris if I could possibly play just one of them he simply replied "These guitars are meant for playing, play them all if you want". Thanks Chris. I could only get through about 3 of the damn things before my head was spinning. A twelve string electric Rickenbacker? Hello? I felt weak in the knees.

We finally moved on from the Shangri-La of all recording studios and on to the beach. North West beaches are all relatively the same. Sorta cold, sorta windy, and make you feel that you are somewhere wild and rugged. It ain't Florida that's for sure. Our pooch pictured above would probably want to stay there forever if we didn't drag him back to the car. What is it with dogs and beaches? I guess it's the same as it is with people and beaches. They simply captivate.

Heather and I with the little fellas, but heck, they don't seem so little anymore. Although they will never directly remember weekends like this, I hope in some form that things like sleeping in cabins, waking up to cool forest air, and the feel of the salty wind across their faces leave an imprint on them. In even the smallest way, I hope it helps shape who they become.