No trip to L.A. would feel complete without a visit to Palisades Park where I shot this aloe plant at. The park’s north end is on the border between Santa Monica and Pacific Palisades and it stretches thinly along the bluff above the Pacific Coast Highway and all the way down to the Santa Monica Pier sign. The park is meticulously maintained yet never, ever crowded. There are plenty of places for picnics, playing chess or shuffleboard. There’s even a camera obscura somewhere in the middle of the park.
When we were living in Santa Monica during the fall and winter of 2013-2014, Charlotte and I would either together or separately run the park’s entire length, then jog down to the end of the pier, cross over to the bike path and run up the stairs, take the bridge over PCH and then run up the walkway to Idaho Avenue where are apartment was. Can’t remember the distance, but it may be around 5k.
I didn’t run in the park during this last visit, but I did walk up and down its length all the while admiring the season’s spectacular flora. Though I’ve not seen any winter flowers here in Malmö, it’s still unusually green for January. #hopingforanearlyspring
Back in Sweden again after an uneventful flight over the Atlantic and a short ride from Gatwick to Copenhagen. Saw a couple of pretty bad films on the way over, but one classic and seemingly always current, All the President’s Men with a very young Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford.
Shot this from the rooftop at H Hotel where we stayed our last night near the entrance to LAX.
Here’s what I’ve been eating for breakfast during the last week. The Breakfast Bagel they serve at Coffee Coffee in Leucadia/Encinitas is among the tastiest I’ve ever eaten. It comes with avocado, scrambled eggs, cream cheese, onions, tomatoes and is perfectly salted and peppered.
It’s almost time to leave Southern California. The sun was out again this morning, but it rained heavily here in Encinitas last night and I heard L.A. received a torrential downpour with some flash flooding, even.
I’ve already packed my stuff, including the yoga mat, wetsuit, camera gear and drone. Not looking forward to leaving. Like my heart, the suitcase now feels heavier somehow. Could be all the sand residue from pretty much every beach we’ve surfed on since arriving almost three weeks ago.
With the amazing family gatherings, great surfing, plenty of sunshine, friendly smiles and all the sumptuous breakfasts, lunches and dinners, how could leaving California feel anything but a bit melancholic? That said, I feel there’s now more than ever an incentive to return soon again.
I’ve surfed on beaches of Maui, Sri Lanka, Costa Rica, Miami, Malibu and probably a half dozen other places – including some dubious spots in Sweden. Though I’m by no means a great surfer, at best I could pass for an enthusiastic novice, for years I have been in love – addicted even – to the idea of becoming one with the waves. I used to dive a lot, but today I find that it’s too complicated.
Yesterday afternoon, while in the water waiting for the right lefty to appear, I thought about how similar surfing is to skiing. At least insofar that both provide an epic, adrenalin injecting nature experiences.
At this point in life, carving my way down a steep mountain slope or riding a tall wave to shore, are two amazing ways to keep me young in mind, body, and heart.
Here’s a truly unique group photo from last night’s Raboff Family Gathering. We took it after dinner at the taco shop I wrote about in a previous post and then continued the evening in the cozy outdoor garden of a nearby bar here in Leucadia.
My father Ernest Raboff was married four times and as far as we know, he fathered a total of six children. Through their mother Adeline, my three youngest siblings belong to the ancient Native American Indian Gwich’in people.
In addition to seeing my brother Evon D’Angeles for the first time since he was two or three years old, and my sister Princess Bethany whom I’ve not hung out with since Paris in 2015, the “Swedish Raboff’s” got to spend the evening with the amazing “Alaskan Raboff’s«. The evening could only have gotten better if brothers Nick and Odin with their respective families could have joined us. And Tyko, of course.
I’m really pleased that Elle got to meet and spend time with her cousins and hope she enjoyed hearing at least some of the evening’s many historical accounts and peculiar anecdotes our father Ernest so generously left behind.
Given that we live in Sweden, a part of the world where sunshine is a rarity, at least this time of year, the Raboff’s are currently stocking up on natural vitamin D while here in southern California. And aside from a bit dreary weather in Joshua Tree on the 31st of December last year, we’ve enjoyed nothing but beautiful, albeit somewhat chilly weather, during our visit.
After Elle’s an my morning surf at Moonlight Beach and then breakfast, I spent an hour or so just laying on the rocks at Beacon’s Beach, straight up the road from Surfhouse, the place where we’re staying while in Encinitas.
Whenever I watch surfers, after a while I tend to get twitchy and yearn to get in the waves myself. Which is exactly what I did after this timelapse was completed.
At the beach again. I don’t think the year could have started much better. We woke up yesterday in the frosty desert at Joshua Tree and drove west towards the sun – as far as the highway would take us. At the small surf community of Encinitas, just north of San Diego and south of Carlsbad, we checked into a motel located just a few hundred yards from what looks like a decent beach break.
No matter how much you disagree with the country’s current pathologically deranged leadership, the food frenzy, entitlement madness or shopoholism, there’s just no denying that the US of A offers some of the most astonishing nature experiences in the world. Which is primarily why I enjoy returning again and again.
I am in awe of California. With its forests, deserts, coastline, and mountains – all in close proximity to each other, visitors and locals alike have an amazing buffet of goodness to enjoy in the “Golden State”.
My very first visit to Joshua Tree was 15 years ago and my brother Nick and I camped out there for a few nights. I think it was near the park’s Hidden Valley. I was awestruck by how vast and unworldly the landscape was.
I’ve returned a couple of times since then with Elle and Charlotte and all three of us are just as mesmerized as I first was.