What DOES the Mad Macedonian see in Orange County, anyway?
Whatever is there for me to see, if I'd only take the time to notice, and more of it, too. ;-D
Take the Santa Ana River, for instance.
The old gal has witnessed a lot since man first set foot along its banks 12,000 years ago.
She comes out of the mountains, east of Mentone Beach, in San Bernadino County, and though man has tried to tame her with concrete, still has the power to rage, over 75 miles, to the coast in Huntington Beach, when the rains are sufficient to encourage her.
Nature in all its glory, and variety can be experienced by the cyclist, hiker, and jogger, along the length of the Santa Ana River Trail
Occasional Graffiti, and a few homeless under bridges, are only a few of the most noticeable things to see along its length, unsavory, beautiful, and every description inbetween.
I've traveled its length, bottom to top, and will do so again.
This story is about the little things, the things that you might not notice or, if you do, you don't have, or take, the time, to look more closely at what you see.
You don't know what you are missing. ;-D
Some of those little things remain in place for months, or years until, one day, nature decides enough time has passed and it is time for release, and the past is swept away, in a rush of water, the better to make way for the future.
Along one stretch of the Santa Ana River Trail, in Orange, as it passes Chapman Ave., south of Anaheim Stadium, there are 2 trails.
These days, if you choose the main trail, on the left, over the lesser used section, on the right, you might not see something in plain sight, even if you were looking in its direction.
Yesterday morning, as I rode on that side, I encountered something quite unexpected.
I don't remember it being there as far back as it supposedly has been, but the 2 most recent times I rode by I was in a hurry, and had something else on my mind. ;-D
I had noticed a bicycle next to the concrete rive barrier that spanned the river, and didn't, immediately, see anything, or anyone else, from my spot on Chapman, so rode over to look.
I noticed 3 things, the 2nd of which caused me to return over 2 hours later with my camera.
The first was that the bike was old, and beat up, with a torn seat.
The second was a memorial planted in a hole in the dirt, and kept upright by a tiny ledge, and some rocks.
The third was a man sitting, barely noticeable from my new spot on the trail, on the concrete in the center of the river.
He waved at me, and I figured he must be one of the several 50-ish year old homeless white guys in the area who rode bikes, some with paniers, or backpacks, that carried their belongings, and the bike was his.
I waved back, and left.
I returned with camera, hiking stick with camera mount, and a notepad, expecting the guy to be gone, and instead discovered that he now had a friend with a bike and a backpack.
Okaaay...
I ignored them, and set about taking pictures, and taking notes about the memorial.
Old Glory, small, dirty, and tattered, was taped to a stick, which was jammed into a beat up small white metal pipe of some sort.
There she was, waving bravely, proudly, in the breeze, honoring someone, as the markings on the pipe indicated, who had once served in the military.
I pulled the whole thing out of its hole for a closer look at the writing, written with a black marker, and was intrigued with what I found.
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