One day we’ll all go to the beach, and the next day I’ll take my guests up into the mountains for an afternoon of peace and picturesque bliss at high altitudes. That’s just the kind of host I am. Patient. Caring. Ingenious. Well-hung. The list goes on, and on, and on. This afternoon, after a morning of bagels in Burbank, I drove Ken and Katie up to Mt. Wilson in the Angeles National Forest. We mulled around in the intense heat for a few hours, being stung by baby bees and wishing we’d brought along some water. Between swatting at our ears and pissing in depthless drain pipes used to aid melting snow, we took a series of beautiful photographs. Some of them were staged, some of them were not. All that matters is, we were way too close to the radio waves and microwaves to be really at ease, and we’ll all probably die of cancer now.
Here are some of the pictures we took today, captioned by yours truly. See my wit? Enjoy! To see the full-size images, just click on the desired photo!
Ken and I look out over a rather large cliff. I bet Ken five dollars I can dive off the edge and live.
The long and winding road (19 miles plus 5 miles) up to the peak.
Look at that glorious haze and tell me LA isn’t the most beautiful place on earth.
Radio towers. Not sure what they’re transmitting, but it’s some heavy shit.
The signs predict a grim fate for anyone who dares stand near the towers.
Ken is already dying of exposure to…whatever the hell that shit is up there.
Look at it. It’s beautiful. You can’t hear it by looking at this pictures, but there was a colony of at least 1,000 bees living in the flower bed where this photo was taken.
Look! There I am! The little guy in the middle of the trees is me!
Leaving the container of rock salt open is just inviting us to try and scale the pile. Ken made it further than I, but we both soon sank.
If an afternoon atop Mount Wilson is in your future, please remember to leave your firearms at home.
Two strong men.
Laying back in the sun. While standing!
Trying to make cell phone calls. Ironically, there’s no cell service up there!
That slope is a lot steeper than it looks.
Ken and Katie are dwarfed by the radio towers.
More winding roads on the drive back down into the foothills.
Much like parts of the PCH, you never know what lays around a given corner.
Look at me, I’m like fucking Magellan or something.
“Show me your explorer look.”
Friends.
Young lovers.
I walk the fine line between a mountain road and a bloody death.
The first — and probably not the last — photo of my ass that has appeared on this website. I told Ken I would dive in, and I was prepared to prove it to him.
With me dead at the bottom of a canyon, I can only imagine the drive home was really boring. But pretty. I’m sure it was a true conflict of emotions.
Yellow Swans – High On The Mountain Of Love
MV & EE – Beautiful Mountain
Jack Rose – Mountaintop Lamento
