Hodomania by Benjamin Simpson

Abstract Los Angeles is an on-going collection of photographs taken as I wander about this sprawling metropolis.

Today’s installment is from Washington and Fair Oaks Boulevards in North Pasadena.
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An iconic Canary Island Date Palm hides the sun on Washington Blvd, Pasadena.
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After the rain, parts of the Canary Island Date Palms litter the ground.
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Lions guard a palm tree on Washington Blvd, Pasadena.
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Park of a warehouse wall, Washington Blvd, Pasadena.
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The care-for-the-elderly-homes cluster on Fair Oaks Blvd, Pasadena.
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Surprisingly, the front door of a dive bar -With New Hours!- on Fair Oaks Blvd, Pasadena.
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This is [Part 3] of a 3 part story.
Click here to visit: Stone Circles, Sherlock Holmes and the Rain at Grimspound [Part 1]

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    The interior of the large stone circle was littered with small huts, some more elaborate than others. This one has an entryway, which is where the men of 4000 years ago would leave their umbrellas when returning home to their overstuffed chair.

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    And the same hut, from a different perspective.

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    And the ponies of the moor, eating grass from between the stones of the ancient wall that surrounded this village.

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    Three stone huts, lined up in perfect symmetry, this must be the very first version of a tract home. And hey, it’s even in a gated community.

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    My mother decided to climb up the slope to the tor looking down on the stone circle of Grimspound.

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    At which time it promptly started to rain sideways. So she hid behind the stones on top of the tor.

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    From this picture, it doesn’t look like it, but the rain was poring sideways. It came from the west, and I could feel the freezing drops splash against my eardrum, as the sideways wind tried to slide me off the slippery wet stones.

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    We both finally made it to the car, dripping wet, with my jacket soaked through. But happily, because of my wellies, my feet were dry.
I think I succeeded in finding my stone huts.

This is Part 2 of a 3 Part story.
Click here to visit: Stone Circles, Sherlock Holmes and the Rain at Grimspound [Part 1]

    After the coffee and the fire at the Two Bridges hotel warmed our bones, we set out again as it was not raining at the moment.
    I had read a couple websites, and a couple guidebooks on how to get to Grimspound. It seems, if the weather is nice and a walk is in order, to park across the street from the Warren House Inn and then head in a general easterly direction.
    But today the rain was coming in waves, so we decided to park on the road, only a half mile or so from the stone circle and walk up from there.
    The only question was where the stone circle actually was, so with a few u-turns and some guess work with the map we found a small dirt space beside the road to park the can and we headed up the hill.
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    Water, from all the rains, ran down the hill.

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    Towards the road where we had parked the car. And just for informational sake, the Warren House Inn, is on the other side of the hill.

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    It must rain here a lot, because someone built a channel for the water. I wonder how long ago this was built? 100 years? 500 years? Or maybe the same time the stone circles had been built, 3000-5000 years ago.

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    An excerpt from The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
    ”In the evening I put on my waterproof and I walked far upon the sodden moor, full of dark imaginings, the rain beating upon my face and the wind whistling about my ears. God help those who wander into the Great Mire now, for even the firm uplands are becming a morass. I found the Tor upon which I had seen the solitary watcher, and from its craggy summit I looked out myself across the melancholy downs. Rain squalls drifted across their russet face, and the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailing in gray wreaths down the sides of the fantastic hills. In the distant hollow on the left, half hidden by the mist, the two thin towers of Baskerville Hall rose above the trees. They were the only signs of human life which I could see, save only those prehistoric huts which lay thickly upon the slopes of the hills.”

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    And I wondered how long ago, this path, that led up to the stone circle, had been laid.

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    And then we were at the stone circle. I was expecting small round huts, about the size of an igloo. Those huts were here, but I had not expected the grand circle of stone that surrounded the whole village.

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    Another excerpt from The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:
    ”The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task all struck a chill into my heart. The boy was nowhere to be seen. But down beneath me in a cleft of the hills there was a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle of them there was one which retained sufficent roof to act as a screen against the weather. My heart leapt wihin me as I saw it. this must be the burrow where the stranger lurked. At last my foot was on the threshold of his hiding place – his secret was within my grasp.”
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    And then there was my stone hut, or at least the remains of it.

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Click here to visit: Stone Circles, Sherlock Holmes and the Rain at Grimspound [Part 3]

Playing guitar beside the Eaton Canyon Falls, at the Eaton Canyon Natural Area, Alta Dena, California.

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     In this continuing adventure of walking on the moor, we had left my mother and I suceeding in only two of our three goals.
[For the first adventure click here: The Devon Moors: Walking Near Two Bridges, [Part 1] ]
    We had found beautiful scenery, more than enough to make the stunningly beautiful seem ordinary again. Until rounding another corner and something amazing shines into view.
    The ground was soaked, so my second reason, to break in my new wellies, worked perfectly.
    But the third, to find the hut where Sherlock Holmes slept in The Hound of the Baskervilles eluded me.
    So today we were heading for the stone circle at Grimspound.
    That’s such a great word Grimspound: a pound of grim.

    The weather was worse today than it was on our other journey to Dartmoor, but we set out anyway, there is really no way of knowing what the weather will be like in Dartmoor until you get there.
    It rained most of the way, as we wound back and forth down the tiny lanes, with the green rolling hills on either side and the rain pattering on the windscreen.
    But maybe a half a mile from Grimspound, the sun came out and so did the rainbows.
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    And the scenery did not need the help of rainbows to make it beautiful.

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    But as I stood by the side of the car, clicking away at the green and gray surroundings, the rains came back, and so we continued driving on the road, past where we were supposed to stop to see Grimspound, which we saw no clues on how to visit and drove on, wondering what to do.

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    Shortly we came across the main road through Dartmoor,

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    and decided the only reasonable thing to do was to have a cup of coffee at the nearby Two Bridges hotel.

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Click here to visit: Stone Circles, Sherlock Holmes and the Rain at Grimspound [Part 2]

This is [Part 3] of a 3 part essay.
Click here to visit [Part 1]

Lydford Gorge is a Valley on the edge of Dartmoor, sandwiched between Devon and Cornwell in Southern England.

My mother and I visited it one afternoon, between December showers, and I can’t describe how beautiful it is,
so here are some more pictures.
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As it was early November in Lydford Gorge, the trees were turning along the edge of the river.
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As I walked the long way back up the hill, which followed for a short time the river.
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It felt warm and magical, (despite the 50 degree chill) as all the ground was covered with leaves, and all the branches and roots were covered with moss.
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Hidden away behind the barred door, is the remains of a mine shaft probably dug somewhere at the end of the 18th century or the beginning of the 19th century. It is assumed that this horizontal mine shaft was exploring for copper, but lead and silver were also extracted from mines in this area.
The mine is now home to a population of Greater and Lesser Horseshoe Bats.
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Water drips everywhere, and through everything. Even when there are no streams, the water here is flowing directly out from the edge of a hill.
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The blue water, the brown leaves and the green tree reflect the colors of the gorge.
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Before the stroll back, we stopped for a cup of tea, and had a visitor.
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On the way home, the sun came out in its full strength, and the trees glowed.
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Click here to visit Lydford Gorge [Part 1}

Lydford Gorge is a Valley on the edge of Dartmoor, sandwiched between Devon and Cornwell in Southern England.

My mother and I visited it one afternoon, between December showers, and I can't describe how beautiful it is,
so here are some more pictures.

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The trail led along the edge of the valley, looking down to intermittent views of the forest below.
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Then there was the stream that fed the White Lady Waterfall.
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Then a decision had to be made, an my mother, being the adventurous one, took the more difficult path.
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The 'Short and Steep' path.
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Which we were rewarded with at the bottom was the White lady Waterfall itself.
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At the bottom, the fall leaves stuck to the submerged rocks, as the waterfall made the only noise in the valley.
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And there was green, green everywhere, in between the falling water.
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Click here to visit Lydford Gorge [Part 3]

Doc, at home, shows off his flowers, Pasadena, California.

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Laura at work at Cal Tech, Pasadena, California.

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