[pct-l] 2005-ers: No food boxes to the Middletons

[Bighummel at aol.com (Bighummel@aol.com)]

Ah, Cabezon!  
 
"To search for the mountain springs laid down upon our maps was probably to  
find them dry, and afforded us little more inducement than to chase the  
mirages.  The only well-known water was at an oasis somewhere on the margin  of the 
Cabezon, and should, if the information was correct, have been in sight  from 
our resting place."
 
"The two summits, high above the magical stratum of desert air, were  sharply 
defined and singularly distinct in all the details of rock-form and  
snow-field.  From their position we knew them to the walls of the San  Gorgonio Pass, 
and through this gateway lay our road."
 
"It WAS the oasis, and not the mirage.  John lifted up his voice,  now many 
days hushed, and gave out spasmodic gusts of baritone, which were as  dry and 
harsh as if he had drunk mirages only."
 
"Our oasis spread out its disk of delicate green, sharply defined upon the  
enamel-like desert which strected away for leagues, simple, unbroken,  
pathetic.  Near the eastern edge of this garden, whose whole surface  covered hardly 
more than an acre, rose two palms, interlocking their cool, dark  foliage over 
the pool of pure water.  A low, deserted cabin with wide,  overhanging flat 
roof, which had long ago been thatched with palm-leaves stood  close by the 
trees."
 
"With its isolation, its strange warm fountain, its charming vegetation  
varied with grasses, trailing water-plants, bright parterres in which were  minute 
flowers of turquoise blue, pale gold, mauve, and rose and its two  graceful 
palms, this oasis evoked a strange sentiment. I have never felt such a  sense 
of absolute and remote seclusion; the hot, trackless plain and distant  groups 
of mountain shut it away from all the world.  Its humid and fragrant  air hung 
over us in delicious contrast with the oven-breath through which we had  
ridden (upon mule).  Weary little birds alighted, panting, and drank and  drank 
again, without showing the least fear of us.  Wild doves fluttering  down bathed 
in the pool and fed about among our mules."  
 
                    from  "Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada" by Clarence 
King, 1871
 
 
I'm not sure where the oasis is these days.  The noise and run down  look of 
old Cabezon, sitting right next to interstate 10 is no longer remote in  any 
way.  Read this again when you reach Cabezon and try to imagine the  look and 
feel of this place 134 years ago.  The people are nice in the  store, but some 
of the characters hanging around it look like they might slit  your throat! 
 
May the Pink Motel rest in peace.
 
HYOH,
 
Greg