Rob's Obs 4

Crazy
Patsy Cline 1961

'Care in the community' was the buzzword at home when they were looking for an excuse to shut down the loony bins to save money. Consequently we now have a great many mentally challenged people, trying inadequately to fend for themselves.
I don't know what they called it over here but it has had the same result, magnifed a thousand times.
There are nutters all over the place.
While most of them seem harmless enough, there are quite a few with whom I'd avoid eye contact and I try to detour beyond aroma range.

Sometimes it seems like passing through the world's biggest open air, after care clinic.

The problem is, you can't always spot 'em straight away.
I sat in a Ralph's supermarket one evening having a coffee and chatting to the guy next to me. When Harvey came across, I turned my attention to him and within 5 minutes my new friend was engaged in an animated conversation with his reflection in the window and judging by the hilarity going on, told himself quite a few jokes that he hadn't heard before.
Seeing outwardly sensible folks holding apparent private conversations with themselves is an everyday occurrence here until you look closely only to discover that they have one of those ridiculous BlueTooth gadgets stuck behind a lug-'ole and realise that they are 'on the phone'.

Everything paled into insignificance yesterday when we went to Loony Mecca and met the grand-master himself.

I had read an article in Barnes & Noble about The Salton Sea and I was intrigued enough to make it a project for the day.
A lady at an information booth told Val that it was about 45 minutes away so first thing in the morning, (well, second thing really) off we set.
Kate obviously had got wind of this and refused to navigate for us so we had to rely on Isobel (The Smiffs sat-nav/GPS) to direct us there from the back seat. She never really caught up all day.
After about 2 hours, we made it to our destination and visited the visitor centre as you do.
It was quite fascinating and to cap it all, the head honcho of the rangers was married to a girl from Poole whose uncle was once harbour master and has a plaque in his honour attached to the lifeboat station.
If you're reading this Mike, the guys name is Black. (Mike is a mine of knowledge about seafaring matters, particularly in Poole harbour. He also makes exquisitely finished yachts under the name of Tradewind Yachts.)
The Salton Sea has a very interesting history and is pretty much the result of an accident.
It is an inland sea, 228' below sea level with a level of salinity higher than the Pacific Ocean.
These are some of the pictures that Harvey took.

These are dead Tipalia that were imported from Africa to keep down the weeds and have populated the lake extensively. They die in shoals when the water gets too cold or starved of oxygen by excessive plankton growth.

After we had explored that area, we wandered further down it's coast (it's 35 miles long) and dropped into Bombay Beach to have a gander there.
What a place that is. All kinds of trailer homes with any mount of trash/treasure piled up outside and feral dogs roaming around.
After a look at some of the locals we quietly slipped away with Harvey surreptitiously taking photos from the back seat through an open window.
My ultimate destination had been a town called Niland and this is what I have been heading to in the previous rambling paragraphs.
After getting directions from the local Sheriffs Deputy, who rolled his eyes at our query, we arrived at the world's most colourful nut-house.Leonard, the owner/architect/caretaker, landed on this spot in a hot air balloon in 1984 and decided that this was the ideal setting for his version of the Sistine chapel.
His full name, we didn't obtain but at a guess it's Leonard O'davinci 'cos only a Paddy could come up with something as crazy as this.

He calls it Salvation Mountain and it's one of the most amazing edificies I've ever seen or am ever likely to see. It was certainly worth the 2 hour drive on it's own.We were busily taking pictures when a car pulled up and Leonard emerged from his Salvation truck where he lives, to conduct a tour. We were given the option to tag along but declined though I'm not sure why.The Salvation Truck

If you're in the area, (or anywhere within 200 miles) you've gotta go see it.

Back in Niland, we went searching for an old Greyhound bus we'd seen earlier.
After getting confusing directions from a couple of odd-balls making gun holsters, who we had stopped to ask, we finally found it further along the road where the owner was topping up it's water tanks.
The couple who'd 'restored' it and converted it to an RV came from Redding in northern California and used it to get away when they got fed up with the winter rain.
For those of you who are still reading this load of old waffle and are interested in the technicalities, it was a 1954 Flxible (No, I haven't spelled it wrong).

As we couldn't find a Starbucks, we ate our picnic beside the road and just as I'd finished, up rolled the next shift of loonies.
You've gotta be nuts to decorate your car with circuit boards, computer chips, mother boards, shotgun cartridges, old shell cases and sparklet bulbs.
Finally, to complete our day of confusion, we were pulled in by members of the Immigration & Border patrol and given the 3rd degree about our movements despite being at least 60 miles from the Mexican border
Crazy!

BTW. We stopped off at Medjool's date farm on our way home and as far as we're concerned Jane, date shakes can stay a very California thing to do.