We didn't arrive until about 8:40 P.M. Friday night. We had planned to stop for fast food on the way, but each of us was waiting for the other to decide when to stop. Then we realized we'd past all the fast food, and we feared there'd be nothing open in Idyllwild. (That happened to us once when we went to Julian. It wasn't that late when we arrived, but nothing was open. We had to survive on a little loaf of bread left for us in the cabin.) We were thrilled to discover the Mile High Cafe as soon as we hit town, open until 9:00. We had a nice dinner and made friends with the owner, a super-cute, friendly Asian lady who took an interest in Ever.
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| (Photo taken later from the car.) |
We stayed here:
It was a cute, cozy little cabin. Apparently Elvis stayed there in the '60s while filming a movie. The spiders also found it hospitable. One crawled on Jim as soon as he got in bed. We also caught three tiny ones descending from the ceiling toward the bed. Not my fave, although I may prefer it to the ant-infested cabin in Julian we stayed in a couple years ago.
We went to the Honey Bunns and Joe Bakery for breakfast Saturday. I had a delicious cinnamon roll; Jim had a caramel pecan bun and some sort of lemon cookie. The he-owner chatted with us for a few minutes. He was a flooring contractor and the she-owner (his wife, the baker) an accountant in Rancho Cucamonga. They retired from their regular jobs, moved to Idyllwild, and opened this bakery.
The owners' daughter recommended a couple of hikes to us, so we hit the more strenuous one - a 6.6-mile (roundtrip) jaunt to Suicide Rock - right after breakfast. As the family pack mule, I carried Little One. She slept some in the Baby Bjorn and had some fussy spells, but she hung in there and let us complete the whole thing. Everyone we saw on the trail was very impressed.
These trees, with red bark and pink flowers, lined a lot of the trail. The bees LOVED them. The near-constant hum of bees scared us, but we had no encounters.
Happy baby. (Note: she was NOT this happy at the very end of the hike. We had to take her out of the Bjorn to calm her for the last little stretch to the car.)
She loves sucking on the Bjorn. She is well into the I-want-to-put-everything-in-my-mouth phase.
Dean slept the last little part up and then most of the way back. I woke her a couple times when I slipped and almost fell. She wasn't a fan of that. And no, this hat does not fit her and does, in fact, try to swallow her head whole. It's on loan from the Karners and is the only one we have.
The top. We weren't sure which rock was the Suicide Rock.
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| Attack of the hat. |
Jim really liked this tree.
After the hike, we went back to the cabin, got cleaned up, and tried to put Baby to bed. She refused to sleep, despite being extremely tired, so we went into town for dinner. We ended up at a place called Jo'An's, where Jim had a burger he loved and I had a disappointing salad. (Jim said I should've known; it was like ordering a salad at a bowling alley.) We were accosted by a drunk man who apparently cooks the meat in the outside area on weekends and who wouldn't stop talking to us. Then we went to a chocolate store and splurged on $16 worth of chocolate. Most of it was Jim's, and in any case, I can't say it was worth it. But that's how we do. While we were in town, a couple people recognized us from the hike. One lady stopped and asked, "Is that the baby from the hike today?" A guy in the chocolate store asked us how far we made it, and we were proud to answer, "All the way to Suicide Rock." Dean was famous in a day. People will probably be talking about the amazing baby-hiker for years to come.
Sunday morning we took a couple photos in town and then headed out to the Ernie Maxwell Trail, which was the other hike recommended to us by the Honey Bunns people. I couldn't really capture the cuteness of the town, but I took a couple random shots from the car.
We understood from the Honey Bunns girl that this would be an easy, three-mile amble - nice for a Sabbath morn. Turns out it's five miles (roundtrip) and not flat. There's a little creek shortly before the end of the trail. We hung out there for a little while, fed the babe, and then headed back because she was losing it.
Jim decided to man up and take the baby this time, thereby avoiding ridicule from people on the trail wondering why he wasn't carrying her. (A few people made comments to us on the Suicide Rock hike. Jim was upset that I didn't defend him by explaining that she fussed when he carried her but slept when I did.)
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| More of the red-barked trees. |
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| Setting up the shenaniquin shot. |
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| Not the shenaniquin's best work. |
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| Flirting over lunch. |
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| I didn't know I was in this picture. Had I known, I would've tried to look happier. |
At this point, Jim put the camera on top of the backpack. I then picked up the backpack, not realizing that the camera was on top of it until I saw the camera fall off. It rolled down the rock and into the water.
After the rescue, the camera wouldn't turn off for a long time and could still take pictures. I got one last shot of Jim carrying Little One, with an empty Bjorn on his back. She was too angry to ride in the carrier any longer, so he carried her the whole way back.
Eventually, the camera turned off and went to camera heaven. The good news is that 1) the pictures were still on the card, 2) this experience forced me to learn about the existence of "the card" and how to plug it directly into the computer instead of hooking up the whole camera (technology is not my thing), and 3) the camera was already on the fritz and had been refusing to turn on for periods of time the previous day. So if ever there was a time to drop a camera in water, this was it. I pretty much nailed it.
Sadly, the weekend photos are completely bereft of any close-ups of Jim's nose. The purple scabby thing became a giant ball that that stuck about a half-inch off his nose. It was disgusting and bizarre. (Sorry, honey.) Monday morning, Jim had his scheduler cancel his appointments and got in to see a doctor, who confirmed as follows: the graft never took, and the scab on top was the dead graft; the stitches never dissolved as they were supposed to, so the scab couldn't fall off; and Jim's nose underneath was growing and growing, past where it should, and pushing the scab out. So they cut the giant ball off and cauterized his nose. Now it looks like a regular wound, and both nostrils are on similar planes, so that's nice. Jim's doctor told him he could do another graft, but there's no telling it would work. The scar may end up pulling out his nostril, but we'll hope for the best. Jim's just excited that he can get back in the water and go on a little three-day surf trip to Mexico that he and Sam have been planning for next week.
