Barker’s Dam is an artificial body of water in Joshua Tree that is arresting when one stumbles upon it via a desert path.  Photographing the dam in the early morning was compelling so Steve and I left a little after 6 to get to Joshua Tree National Park.  The ride was dull and the roads in the park itself had numerous “DIP” signs that Steve initially interpreted as “DERP” signs.  I thought this was a good idea for a sign and could be used to mark areas where someone was involved in a dumb accident like hitting a mailbox.

Here are my two cheesecake shots of Joshua Tree.

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Water in the desert at Barker's Dam.

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Pano of Joshua Tree Path, it's a big-un if you click through.

Before walking to Barker’s Dam, I received a text message; I’m not quite sure how as this is where I was at the time:

Where I got the message

I’d find it funny if the same hills that held some of the oldest petroglyphs in the Southwest also aided in modern communication through some collection of reflection and absorption of RF.

On the way in, there was some volunteer stroking a bighorn sheep that was probably struck by a car.  He insisted it was “barely alive”, but based on its stillness and the congregating flies, I think he clung to something beyond the pall.

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If it's alive, it's terribly well trained.

On a much less morbid note, I did a keen action merge of Steve.

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Don't look too closely at the shadows.

Our next stop was further west where, after some difficulty we met with Eddie, the littlest Interrobanger.  We went to In-and-Out Burger where I found a fact of triumph: While in Canada for GP: Toronto, someone asked for a double-double for breakfast, which, while sounding to me like a sandwich, is a coffee build, leading to the following:

Me: I am white man from far away lands not familiar with your strange cuisine.  What should I get?
In-and-Out Burger Attendant: Get the quad.  It’s four patties.
Me: How about something smaller?
Attendant: Try a double-double.
Me: Is that what it’s called?
Attendant: Two patties with cheese.  It’s very popular.
Me: Is it legitimately called the double-double?  That’s not a cute name or an abbreviation or something?
Attendant: That’s what it appears as on the receipt.
Me: Thank you, you may have won me an argument.
Attendant: Glad to help.

So tiny

The choice of Russian dressing as a topping seemed peculiar as did the number of people who stopped to say hello to Eddie as we ate.

Steve and I dropped off Eddie and again traveled West to meet Quinn in San Pedro.  While waiting, I took what is probably the best HDR of a flower I’ve ever taken.

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This sucker's going on me wall

Meet-ups are a function of flow.  There’s always the retreat of playing the same video game, but that’s terribly uninteresting as that’s what one does most of the time.  Quinn was genial and has an encyclopedic knowledge of film.  Only my habit of wikipedia-ing movies of cultural significance allowed me to keep up.

Quinn, master of film reference.

The harbor area of San Pedro had a timed fountain that erupted in rhythmic patterns in which children were playing.  After the sequence was over, there was a pause and it repeated.  My favorite part of the sequence was when a kid thought the fountains had stopped, would bike across and get jacked in the face by a jet of water.  Bayesian analysis should be taught earlier.

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The Child Slayer

Our last two adventures in San Pedro were to visit a restaurant that charged $8.95 for fountain drinks and to see a consignment shop with large chested manikins.

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On to the Salton.

Adam and I arrived in Toronto at 11 AM and walked to an all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue  place that didn’t open until 11:30 AM.  Toronto has about the same population as Philadelphia but has the air of an administrative capital as well as one of business.  It’s probably a cultural center of some renown but there was none of the detritus that normally comes with being a cultural hub like posted bills, street performers, or the patina of wear that a city soaks up when its lifespan is measured in centuries.  Toronto’s over 200 but there’s little to indicate this is the case.  Even the brick buildings of the Old City looked like they’d be reconstructed for historical purposes and every other window was dotted with a window-mount air conditioner hiding the fact that the structure looked like antiquarian Potemkin village.

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Toronto Graffito

We met up with Lori/Howitzer, a higher up on my photographic hit list, and dickered about to kill time until the restaurant opened.

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Howitzer

There, each table was fitted with a gas-powered burner with a replaceable cook surface.  The servers presented trays of meats soaked in a tenderizing soy brine making this the highest sodium meat meal I think I’ve had.

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There's no way this could fly through an American health department

I’m amazed that the model hasn’t been sued out of existence by sufferers of food poisoning.  The tongs used to place the meat are the same used to remove them, under cooking is trivial and cross contamination can easily occur if one orders vegetables as well.  There was some impromptu pyrology as the color of the flame changed over the course of the preparation starting as a propane blue and moving to a deep yellow as salty drips started hitting the basal flame source.  Otherwise the food was fine but slow, like having a meal where every 3 minutes one received 1/3 of a chicken finger.

We walked around Toronto a bit more and after crossing the main square where an anemic Filipino-pride celebration was being held found a clutch of Falun Gong practitioners in front of a statue of Winston Churchill that looked like it was fashioned from wax bits placed via slingshot.

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Save it for the Huns!

Near this area the bird population was dense.  The fountains attracted a healthy supply of seagulls and any city worth a darn has pigeons.  Most of the light posts in the area had spikes on the top but these were poorly placed and in no way stopped birds from landing.  The bird below was on a concrete abutment and I took a sequence of pictures each a step closer than the previous.  I got about a foot away with the picture below before I decided not to press my luck any more.

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"What?"

I left Toronto around 3 and had to make a slow trip to Montreal which is a bit less than six hours away.  My Montreal host was indisposed until 10:30 PM so I drove at the speed limit and stopped at rest stations if I had even a hint of bladder pressure.  When I crossed into Quebec all the signs switched to French including stop signs, an oddity as my host informed me that even in France the stop signs simply say “Stop”.  Also, every previous Canadian host warned me about Quebec’s drivers.  I quickly learned what this meant as I repeatedly found drivers pass me on the left, return to my lane, and then slowing down.  I’m a heavy user of cruise control so I’m confident my speed wasn’t changing and my GPS unit confirmed this.  I arrived a bit short of 10 and my host was home.  We chatted for a bit and then I turned in to prepare for a day of poutine and Anglophobia.