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

[judson at jeffnet.org (Judson Brown)]

...and in case anyone was curious, cabezon is an adjective in Spanish
meaning "pig-headed" or "having a big head". Hmmm... not sure what to make
of that...

Judson
el hombre cabezon de Ashland

-----Original Message-----
From: pct-l-bounces@mailman.backcountry.net
[mailto:pct-l-bounces@mailman.backcountry.net]On Behalf Of
Bighummel@aol.com
Sent: Monday, January 24, 2005 9:50 PM
To: pct-l@mailman.backcountry.net
Subject: Re: [pct-l] 2005-ers: No food boxes to the Middletons


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
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