We flew to San Diego last week, and saw some boundaries along the way. First we crossed the mountains dividing the Pacific Coast Highway from Santa Monica and L.A. Looking across those peaks, it was a clear boundary between two worlds. One still mostly wild like it was centuries ago, the other totally tame.
Another contrast was between “the basin” of urban sprawl that we call L.A., and the downtown core floating in the sea of city up toward the mountains. It was a “clear” day by L.A. standards, but of course there’s still quite a bit of haze. Just having that many people breathing in the valley probably produces a lot of visible smog, so maybe at some point all city residents will wear gas masks to clean the air inhaled and exhaled. Why do I notice the smog here more than in NYC?
Next up is the San Diego border, enforced by I.N.S. It seems that enough people from Mexico have managed to cross the U.S. border, that people driving on the freeway from S.D. to L.A. are inspected here. I’m no longer surprised that U.S. citizens don’t object to this, but it’s still a small pleasure being able to fly past it without being inspected. Yet.
Flying offshore along Camp Pendleton I spotted a giant hovercraft that crosses the borders between air, water and land. It’s remarkable that such a big and heavy device can carry troops and equipment, while still floating on a cushion of air. So cool!
Along the way we saw many spots where the “red tide” reported in news media makes the waves glow at night. We had hoped to walk one of the S.D. beaches after dark to see and play in it, but didn’t find the time. This one at La Jolla Shores was quite a strong one, so it probably was spectacular that night.
In daylight the boundaries are between sea and shore, red and blue. After dark there is a magical boundary between movement and stillness in the water that becomes a boundary between light and dark.
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