Return, Catalina Valentine & Recuperation

I made it.
I think that was my best international flight ever, less than 50% full makes every difference. I wish when your buying a ticket you could search under "On average, how full is this flight?"
Via SFO I landed in San Diego with no problems. Dorothy, whom I missed like crazy, met me at baggage claim and took my bulging backpack and I home. It was a great evening, she had warned anybody who might want to stop by that we were otherwise occupied, which wasn't far from the truth. She had meatballs & ravioli waiting, a personal favorite, and it was perfect. I was home and once unpacked, full and comfortable, I passed out. Then I woke up at like 3am, obviously my hours are all fucked up at this point.
This has been going on for a week, settling into early wake ups and early bedtimes, no sleep lasting more than six hours and naps whenever, literally in the blink of an eye. I could be catching up, but I think it's anticipation for New Zealand, too many things I want to get done before I leave the country for another month.
A little over a day after returning Dorothy & I boarded a ferry in Long Beach bound for Avalon, on Catalina, one of the Channel Islands 22 miles off the California coast. Neither of us had ever been and since February 14th (that day) was Dotty's Birthday AND Valentine's Day, that's where we went. The ferry was an hour and smooth, when we landed our hotel shuttle picked us up, we checked in, chilled, and walked around acquainting ourselves with this quiet village by the sea. I describe it as quiet since the locals refer to this time of year as the "off-season," but it seemed like this Hallmark holiday brings a few people back for the long weekend. There's a history to Catalina, but I didn't really bother with that sort of thing this time. I was tired of taking pictures, tired of learning about new places. This weekend was all about my girl and making her see that even though I'm unemployed and take off for lenghty amounts of time, she's my one, my only, and she is appreciated.
After spending some more time in possibly the most thin-walled Victorian hotel I've been in, we wandered out for our Valentine's/her 29th Birthday dinner. She was of the same mentality as me, having come off a long work week, and had no desire to get "crazy," since we had done that the night before with some friends in OB. We found a nice place on the harbor and had a nice dinner with an entertaining server who gave us some ideas for the next day. It was supposed to rain but we knew if we were going to get any time alone in nature that would be our window of opportunity. After dinner and I think two bottles of wine we strolled the promenade entertained by the brisk ocean air, frigid waves crashing on the stone beach and the obscene amount of golf carts wandering the area late at night.
The next morning we woke up, had a nice breakfast and figured out how we were going to catch a ride up the hill (Catalina tops out at 2097 feet) - our plan was to get close to the center of the island and walk back down to Avalon. The Catalina Island Conservancy manages a shuttle to the "Airport in the Sky" which will let you off wherever along the way, we were dropped off about ten miles from Avalon expecting to hitch a ride for the latter part of our journey if the weather turned or it got dark. So we strolled, not up or through anything too crazy, just simple hiking. The weather held although at times it did threaten, but when your seeing Buffalo & the temperatures perfect if you stay moving, crazy clouds just add to the ambiance of being away from civilization. We passed by Mount Black Jack, the 2nd highest on the island, eventually avoiding the mile long trail up to Mount Orizaba (1st highest) and wandering into a small valley full of many varieties of trees which I'll never know if were native, or planted a hundred years ago. The few people I did ask said this island is full of mysteries like that, things that seem natural were imported, and vice verse. At some point, this being the USA/melting pot, do we just give up wondering because if it's here, and thriving, what difference does it make anyway? I digress, we continued in and explored a campground, discussed the possibility of coming back here someday soon to hike the Trans-Catalina Trail and actually found it crossing through where we were. Of course we followed it, I kinda had a map, (it was a handout from the Visitor's Center) my trusty boy scout compass and it seemed to be going in the right direction so along it we went, avoiding "bison paddies" whenever necessary. Along the way we noticed we had followers, two ravens that kept pace with us, even scouting ahead to see what might be over the next rise. They became our only associates in this crowded wilderness, which was abundant with rabbits, fox, squirrels & mice. There were also hawk, glossy brown & fat, I just smiled knowing any bird that ventures away from the LA metropolis is truly Living the Dream out here on this hunterless mecca. Everywhere we went seemed alive, the plants were blowing up due to the recent rain, and the hillsides were criss-crossed with trails from the various game on the run from their aerial predators. Our trail meandered around a hillside to a vista that showed we needed to start going down and then up towards the road, and eventually Avalon.
Once back on the road where the trail, due to the fire almost two years prior, parallels for the most part, we were rewarded with spectacular views in every direction. These Channel Islands are incredibly similar to the mainland with one distinct and brilliant difference, every backdrop is the Pacific Ocean. Our gift, like a cherry on top, was that to the Northeast. The recent storms had capped the San Gabriel's with a thick layer of white, and it glowed through the smog at least 60 miles to our vantage. Right on, it's one of the only reasons I wish I had a good camera, cause our Canon won't do it justice. We continued on occasionally getting passed by some locals in cars but mostly buses full of tourists fearful of the impending storm. We came to the "edge" so to speak, a decision needed to be made, will we just walk the road or find the path to the back of town? The weather had turned out fine by this point but the only marked trail I had found involved uphill, something neither of us were in the mood to tackle. I found a side trail, it looked old but seemed to go where we were. I was skeptical after 20 yards, I saw another trail with a newer look. Turned out to be a road for some newer drainage that had been installed since the fire, I was positive. We walked down a steep grade, some flat, and came to a precipice. Shit, it was where "they"' had decided to take all the top water quickly off the plateau so as not to erode the topsoil due to the recent fires killing all the ground cover... a football field long pipe descending down a very steep ridge.
I was game, my Donia was not. She's a very brave girl, and after a minor amount of coaxing, me taking the backpack, camera, etc, she started down with me promising that if anything starts to "slip" the pipe will be right there to grab onto. About 30 minutes later we were in the ravine on an old dirt road, amongst the fire damage, a scene that as San Diegans is not unfamiliar.
That was the exciting part of our hike, I know that mellow is the more romantic option, especially during the big "V" weekend, but I couldn't resist. Down the gully into the Avalon "ghetto" (the houses weren't quite ready for the Chamber of Commerce pamphlet) and eventually back to our hotel. They upgraded us to a suite for this evening and it was, we had a nice dinner that evening, grabbed a few beers at a local bar and called it a reasonably early night.

Awoken by the rain, torrential downpours at 6am, we decided at that point that getting on the first ferry off this island might be our only option since the weather report wasn't getting any better till later in the week. Awesome, so we caught a great breakfast where I had the Monte Cristo Sandwich, and I'm gonna write about it! Three slices of french toast, apple smoked ham & thick roasted turkey topped with Swiss. I dipped that bad boy in Dot's hollandaise sauce and loved it so much I couldn't eat the entire thing at once, I needed to savor it for a 2nd sitting. 

OK, back on track, switched our tickets and spent the next six hours wondering which ferry was gonna consider itself profitable enough to leave LB Harbor. I'm a cynic and a realist, the seas were big but those hydrofoils are great, my money's on the Catalina Express people waiting till they had a full return boat on the docks before they sent one of their captains through it. Who cares right, we're on island time now!

We got back to Downtown LB after a somewhat rocky ride, but nothing too jarring from my seat. On our way home I had another nap attack and Donia once again picked up the ball and got me to my Dad's where I was picking up my truck. That was Monday night, it's Saturday and I've had an incredibly relaxing week. I've gotten a bunch done, caught up with my family & friends, some correspondence & my pictures. Next week I'm doing more of the same, heading to Joshua Tree for the weekend to get in some quality climbing with Andy before I meet him in Kathmandu, and on Tuesday I'm off to the Southern Hemisphere for Sydney & New Zealand. Till then, Nazdrowie!