Skip to main content

California: Santa Ynez Mountains

On one side of Santa Barbara is the ocean; on the other side you very quickly find yourself in the foothills of the Santa Ynez Mountains.  Our excursion in this direction turned into one of those serendipitous days where nothing goes as you'd planned, but it all turns out rather well in the end.  Our idea was to drive downtown, pick up a National Forest pass and go to a park, then drive up to a viewpoint in the afternoon.  Unfortunately Toby downright refused to go in the car, so we plopped him in the pushchair and walked to a local park instead.  It was a pretty little place, with nasturtiums sprawling over wooded banks, and a little stream running through.  There we just happened to get chatting to a local family, who suggested that Gibraltar Road would be a good drive up into the mountains.

The buggy stops here!



So after Toby's nap we plotted out our route and set off up a steep and winding road.  Graham was having the time of his life, doing some 'proper' driving, while I hung on tight and tried not to look at the edge too much.  That was hard work when the views were so spectacular!  There were multiple pull-offs where you could look back down to the town and the sea, or the other direction into corrugated wilderness.

Santa Barbara with the Channel Islands in the distance




Our map marked a road leading back down to Santa Barbara, which we intended to take, giving us a nice loop drive of an hour or so.  Whether this road really exists or not, we still don't know, for we certainly never saw it!  Instead our nice strip of tarmac turned into a dirt track, leading us further and further into the hills.  We bumped our way along for at least half an hour, seeing not a single other car or person.  The heat got more and more intense - these are desert mountains, the temperature was a good 20°F warmer than at sea level - and the stillness of the dry air when we stopped underscored the immensity of the terrain.




As we pondered whether going on represented complete insanity on our part, the first vehicle we had seen just happened to drive by.  The occupants informed us that Big Caliente Hot Springs were just down the road.  How far?  Oh, only a couple of miles.  Two miles further along the curving dusty road, we found a sign saying "Big Caliente 2 1/2 miles" but having come so far, we pressed on and were rewarded with a deserted car park and a little hot tub beside it, all to ourselves.  Amazingly, we just happened to have our swimming stuff in the car, so we were all ready to slip into the inviting, naturally hot water.  Toby was suspicious at first - "They brought me all this way just to have a bath?" - but once persuaded in, he enjoyed it too.



After all that, our car just happened to be rather dirty.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Very Persistent Widow, or, We're Going on a Judge Hunt

Image by Pexels from Pixabay   At church this morning I was leading the kids group for the five- to seven-year olds. We are studying parables at the moment - the short and punchy stories that Jesus told. Today's was about the persistent widow, who kept on going to the judge's house to demand justice. As I read it, echoes of The Very Hungry Caterpillar came into my head: "...and he was STILL hungry!" as well as images from We're Going on a Bear Hunt: "Mud! Thick, oozy mud!" So here is the version of The Persistent Widow that Jesus would, I am sure, have told, if his audience had been a group of infant school kids. They seemed to enjoy it. I hope you do too.  If you have a small child to help with the knocks and the "No!"s, so much the better. The Very Persistent Widow Lydia was a widow. That means her husband had died. She didn’t have any children, so she lived all by herself. Now someone had done something wrong to Lydia. Maybe someone had

I have a piano!!!

OK, maybe we should have bought a stand! But who cares if it doesn't have the most aesthetically pleasing setting - it's great to have something to play on again. My most loving and wonderful husband had obviously picked up a few signs that I was missing my piano (no, I wasn't hinting that badly!) and a few days ago said, "I was just in the guitar shop and they had a big sale on keyboards - do you want to take a look?" So we went and browsed around a bit, and he firmly dragged me away from the $1000+ models and made me look at some more reasonable ones, and after some discussion we went for this little Casio. It's more portable than the type with a built-in stand, which was a big consideration when we know we're moving in less than 2 years and I had to leave my old one behind for precisely that reason. It's got weighted keys so the touch is good; the sound could be better but it renders Bach quite prettily even if not really coping with Rachm

The Churnet Way: a ribbon of water

I drove across the Staffordshire Moorlands on the A52, the morning open around me. The Sunday Service was on the radio, and my heart sang along with the BBC Singers, who were celebrating their 100th anniversary. The road plunged downhill to Froghall and I cut off the service in the middle of the Lord's Prayer (oops. sorry, Lord) as I arrived at Froghall Wharf car park. old lime kilns at Froghall Wharf It was a cold and breezeless morning. I set off along the Caldon Canal towpath, crossing a lock and passing a tunnel which looked like an awfully tight squeeze for any boat. A metal fence, expanses of cracked concrete, and some crumbling brick buildings were all that remained of what must have been a large factory alongside the canal. A metal pipe drooped forlornly, its broken end gaping. A cheery mouse brightened up one old building. I reached the final corner of the fence, and the industrial landscape dropped away behind me. The canal narrowed to a thin ribbon of water. It seemed ha