Guajome Regional Park - Discovering San Diego
Need is a relative thing these days,
It borders on desire
The high tech world is full of bright shiny things
We think that we really require...
Its so easy to dream about traveling to exotic lands while browsing through the latest copy of The Fly Shop catalog or National Geographic Traveler. And although I will admit to keeping those materials on hand to read (pretty much anywhere), you'll find me often enough nestled with a cup of coffee, a DeLorme Atlas & Gazetteer, a Thomas Brothers map book and Google Earth. Sometimes traveling is easy as calling a travel firm that specializes in fishing, surfing or safaris - other times, its do your research.
A great many people I run into seem to think that I'm blowing wads of dough traveling all the time, and although world travel is by no means cheap, you can find your own escape oftentimes in your own backyard. Most of the time, all you'll spend is time and fuel. The benefits are astounding.
Guajome Regional Park
Guajome Regional Park is about 557 acres in northern San Diego County - located on the border of Oceanside and Vista. While not drop dead gorgeous by any means, its a scenic oasis in an urban environment - a perfect place for a picnic or a hike through its extensive network of trails. If you've got kids, theres a nice little playground that overlooks the lake - and its free from splintering tan bark. Guajome was home to the Native Americans but there is little information describing the actual inhabitation of the place prior to 200 years ago. Two Native Americans eventually received the 2200 acre Rancho Guajome as a land grant from a Mexican Governor back in 1845. They then proceeded to sell it off to a LA Merchant who then gave it to his sister in law. More historical information is found in the fairly informative Guajome Regional Park pamphlet found at the gate.
The main lake is quite nice, with a couple islands in the middle. Most of the lake are covered with tulles and reeds, so its difficult to fish from shore. It would make for a great lake to float tube or kayak - but entering the lake is prohibited. The day we checked out the lake, it was chocolate brown with a 3-4" visibility. There are actually two fishing ponds, but the trail to the second pond was a bit muddy for a 3 year old (or rather, I didn't want to clean him up) so we stayed in the main area.
There's a nice campground that is very clean and relatively quiet. There are 35 sites with electrical and water power. Hot showers, toilets, fire rings and a disposal tank are also offered. Although you're right of CA-56, its quiet and feels remote. Reservations are required, but it didn't look like you'd have a problem reserving a site.
Both hikers and horses can explore the miles of trails; however, when i was there, I didn't notice any riders. The place had a very nice family feel to it and there were several parents walking and hiking the trails with their children and pets. Pets are allowed on a 6' leash, which is usual in California.
Overall, this small park is nice and clean and offers a nice and varied relaxing environment to take your family and enjoy for the day or overnight. I wouldn't count on the fishing, but you never know - you just might be lucky.
Comments
Catch & Release
Sun, Feb 28 2010 12:17
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* A lonely boy finds peace in fishing. His mother says John this is not the way life's supposed to be. Don't you see the life that you are missing? And he says... When I grow up I want to be, One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done, I want to be a fisherman.... *
Before it has even begun, I've been hearing the rain fall. Tapping from the sky, running down the roof, cascading below and turning my boat cover into a small casting pond. These thoughts get the better of me, and I slip out the back way, chasing the sun, hoping to hear the sound of my fly line ripping through the guides. Midway there - my conscience scry's my son sitting on the neighbors couch, rod in hand bags ready to go. I feel evil. I want to fish...selfishly, for myself... but I go home, grab my boy, and dash off to fish the remainder of the visible light on a beach not far from home... The rain is coming, but I can get my line wet.
The wind was out - not gale force, but decent enough not to let a 3 y/o sling a 4wt into the wind. Choices, choices, choices... He pulls out a dirty kastmaster from a cupholder in our van. He squeeks.. "How about a master kaster?" With a smile, I tie one on. I tie on a short surf candy and we walk a bit and talk about his day. Its a good day to be a dad.
I think before my days are done, I want to be a fisherman.... *
Before it has even begun, I've been hearing the rain fall. Tapping from the sky, running down the roof, cascading below and turning my boat cover into a small casting pond. These thoughts get the better of me, and I slip out the back way, chasing the sun, hoping to hear the sound of my fly line ripping through the guides. Midway there - my conscience scry's my son sitting on the neighbors couch, rod in hand bags ready to go. I feel evil. I want to fish...selfishly, for myself... but I go home, grab my boy, and dash off to fish the remainder of the visible light on a beach not far from home... The rain is coming, but I can get my line wet.
The wind was out - not gale force, but decent enough not to let a 3 y/o sling a 4wt into the wind. Choices, choices, choices... He pulls out a dirty kastmaster from a cupholder in our van. He squeeks.. "How about a master kaster?" With a smile, I tie one on. I tie on a short surf candy and we walk a bit and talk about his day. Its a good day to be a dad.
Nice little perch on the fly...
"Dad. There's a hole." Sure enough, a small little trough close enough for him to cast presented himself. The color looked wrong, but I chalked it up to the reflection of the sky... I should have known. It was probably a sea nymph -seeking mischief. A couple casts turns into a couple perch. Not bad I thought. Never caught anything but grief and weed on surf candy. One more cast.... strip, strip, strip. Slow - but steady. Then PUUUUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLL..
I utter something that no father should say in front of their fry, yet most find themselves doing at the wrong time. With a sigh, I back up out of the ebb & flow.
A lot of 3 year olds can cast. - My imp can already cast a mile.. Casting isn't the problem. Peripheral awareness is and that only comes with time and experience and maybe too many close calls.
Wack - pull. pull. UGH. In that moment - my life, the nymphs, the fish that got away and the small imp standing in front of me with a bewildered look on his face - flash consecutively like a combination strobe & projector.
Yah.. it stung a little.
No yelling. I just reeled up my line, told my boy we need to get to the van... every step, more embarassing, every step, a little bit more painful.
Threw the iPhone in the back of the van to keep him busy watching "September Sessions." Grabbed some mono, tied a loop and had a tussle with a little gold kastmaster.
Should I have gone straight to the beach? I could have fished in peace. Nah, I made the right choice. Its just that sometimes, choices aren't always cut and dry and sometimes, you just can't tell what will happen. Its good to be alive. Its good to be a dad. Its good to fish.
This was an experiment to see if a fish feels pain. Actually not bad.
Fish out of Water
Fri, Feb 5 2010 12:15
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...I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
That was God tellin' me, Everything's gonna be alright ....J.J./G.L.
This week pushed me to my limits. It wasn't that I was overworked, too stressed or angry - it was just that I needed to breathe... the kind of air you just can't find when you live nestled between three major highways in North San Diego County. Ordinarily, saltwater flows heavily through my veins and encourages me never to stray too far from water - so my wife was quite surprised when I told her I wanted to go to the desert.
"Why do you want to go to the Desert?"
"To see a mammoth."
"Maybe we should schedule a trip to the doctor first."
That was God tellin' me, Everything's gonna be alright ....J.J./G.L.
This week pushed me to my limits. It wasn't that I was overworked, too stressed or angry - it was just that I needed to breathe... the kind of air you just can't find when you live nestled between three major highways in North San Diego County. Ordinarily, saltwater flows heavily through my veins and encourages me never to stray too far from water - so my wife was quite surprised when I told her I wanted to go to the desert.
"Why do you want to go to the Desert?"
"To see a mammoth."
"Maybe we should schedule a trip to the doctor first."
A Rusty Mammoth
So that weekend, we grabbed some food, threw it in a bag and made for the Sportsmobile. I looked back in the garage to see if I missed anything and I caught a glimpse of a fly rod reflecting some light from a vent in the wall. I was going to the desert I thought. I won't need it. But I grabbed a couple anyway.
Lots of my friends LOVE the desert. They flock there year after year with their travel trailers and toy haulers stocked with ATVs, motorcycles, & dune buggies. Like nomads traveling along a shifting path, you'll spot these modern day caravans with their encircled camp rv's guarding their young. The sound of the little 50cc motors whining in the background. Although we'd drive by this scene on our way to and from -- this wasn't the desert we would experience.
As we rolled through Borrego Springs, we noticed the iron guardians watching over the desert treasure that we'd often heard of, but yet have never seen. A couple coyote's watched us from the distance and eventually ran away disinterested.
Noah and the Beast.
We stopped to eat at a little Mexican restaurant. The food was good, but nothing special. Same with the Margaritas - but its really hard to go wrong with mexican food.
You read time and time again, that the desert is unforgiving - so feeling a bit more cautious than normal (and coupled with the fact, we've never really been to the desert), we decided to follow the Arroyo Salado, a rather easy established trail in the Anza Borrego Badlands. Anza Borrego is California's largest state park with over 500 miles of dirt roads. And if you like free and primative, It also is one of the best places in California to camp as you are allowed to camp in nearly all of the areas in the park - developed or not.
Arroyo Salado Sign.. One of the trails we checked out.
Midway, a short little trail leads you to a small mailbox that houses a little guest book nestled among 17 palms. In years past, getting water from the spring was never really reliable, so the travelers would leave extra water in glass jars hidden underneath the palm trees. Maybe they felt this would give em Karma points - just in case. Nicole just hoped that if we got stuck, someone else would be driving through to help out. I wondered how I ranked with Karma.
Nicole driving the SMB along the sandstone walls and in 4 wheel drive for the first time in a sandy wash.
We camped along the Arroyo Salado wash. There was several nice pullouts that left you feeling isolated.
Our Sportsmobile "BARF"
The rest of the afternoon through the evening, we played outside, played guitar and breathed the desert air. We even pulled out that fly rod and practiced casting a piece of orange yarn at different rocks along the ground. That evening we listened to the coyotes singing in the distance. Noah wasn't a big fan of them, but I told em that his dog, Dexter was far bigger than those dogs. I didn't need (or want) to expand any further as that sufficed for him.
Nicole drying out her fins in the desert.
Guitar Hero.. except its a real guitar. and its pint sized... Noah with a Baby Taylor 6 string.
Dexter checking out the digs.
Ocotillo Flower
The Sportsmobile at night under the desert sky.
Two...
Thoughtful
Padre
On Something...
Rusty Eyes...
Camping is always fun, but we didn't get a chance to see the sights that many more knowledgeable desert explorers have seen. In the future, we'd like to see some slot canyons and hike a bit on foot. We'll have to tag along with someone who has a more intimate knowledge of the desert and its secrets. So for now, I still don't understand the desert, but like every good explorer out there, I know the answer to that question is out here somewhere. I just need to listen.
J
Searching for the Devil
Wed, Sep 2 2009 12:08
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The Upper Owens river below Benton's Crossing. Meandering through to Crowley.
Sometimes, as the dust settles on your adventures, you forget the thrill of exploring areas that you have never set foot on before. You go on with your routine, and the time between trips stretches longer and longer - and the enthusiastic sensation you felt while traveling, gets dull with time.
The Adventure Bug still lingers - waiting patiently for the right moment to bury itself into your consciousness and wake up the sleeping lion.
That bug arose in my mind when my pal Jason mentioned he had a few days free and clear of all responsibilities and that exercising our camper vans and fly rods would be the ideal way to spend the time. I threw out the idea of going to the Mammoth area and less than a couple weeks later, we were on our way.
Both of us, lifelong anglers, had never visited that area before and the thought of exploring an area relatively close to home sounded perfect. We invited other people to join us, and as things usually happen, its always the same crew of dedicated pseudo drifters who are willing and able to drop what they are doing to catch some fish. That meant myself, Jason & my brother Will.
From San Diego, we drove up I-15 to Highway 395. 395 is such an amazing road, that if you typed '395' in Google, a billion hits show up on your screen tempting you with amazing sunsets, large fish and beautiful mountainscapes. We left Thursday afternoon and setup camp just north of Crowley Lake just about midnight. It was over 100 degrees when we drove through riverside, and a nice 49 degrees pulling up above Shermans grade.
The Adventure Bug still lingers - waiting patiently for the right moment to bury itself into your consciousness and wake up the sleeping lion.
That bug arose in my mind when my pal Jason mentioned he had a few days free and clear of all responsibilities and that exercising our camper vans and fly rods would be the ideal way to spend the time. I threw out the idea of going to the Mammoth area and less than a couple weeks later, we were on our way.
Both of us, lifelong anglers, had never visited that area before and the thought of exploring an area relatively close to home sounded perfect. We invited other people to join us, and as things usually happen, its always the same crew of dedicated pseudo drifters who are willing and able to drop what they are doing to catch some fish. That meant myself, Jason & my brother Will.
From San Diego, we drove up I-15 to Highway 395. 395 is such an amazing road, that if you typed '395' in Google, a billion hits show up on your screen tempting you with amazing sunsets, large fish and beautiful mountainscapes. We left Thursday afternoon and setup camp just north of Crowley Lake just about midnight. It was over 100 degrees when we drove through riverside, and a nice 49 degrees pulling up above Shermans grade.
Ahh. So freaking refreshing.
We decided to take the Sportsmobile instead of caravanning by car. Camping in a Sportsmobile is so easy and convenient - You just set the parking brake, crack a beer and push the button to raise the penthouse. Its a good thing too as we arrived just about midnight. After a quick breakdown of tomorrows activities, we hit the sack.
Both of us didn't sleep real well and we both woke up at 5am without any alarm, anxious to start fishing. We quickly broke down camp, made coffee and headed north of Benton Crossing towards the long ears of the Upper Owen River.
Early Morning Wakeup. A view of the sportsmobile facing the Upper Owens River
The water was running a bit thin in this area and the algae and weed growth was pretty thick. After plying the area briefly, we decided to skip over to the south below the crossing, just north of the lake. By then the weather was warming up nicely and the hatches of flies started showing their magic. We quickly tied on a size 18/20 elk hair caddis and watched the little stockers rise and hit the fly with reckless abandon. Everything worked on this river. Elk Hair Caddis', #16 Adams', #20 Mosquito Adams', BWOs. I even threw in a tiny darter clouser towards the afternoon just to see if it would take!
It was just past afternoon when Will called me and mentioned there was a fire blocking his way through Yosemite and he would need to find a route around the park. Flipping through my Delorme Atlas, I suggested he take the 108 and go around towards Bridgeport. It only added on an extra hour. We met Will at a little coffee shop called Looney Bean Coffee in the town of Mammoth Lakes. There were so many crazy vanagon campers in this area, and we met a fellow driving one that Jason had helped out on the side of the road a few years back! After a quick stop to the Troutfitter Fly Shop, we headed out to fish the evening hatch at Hot Creek. The Troutfitter fly shop is quite a nice fly shop. Interestingly, there were more workers in there than I have EVER seen a fly shop. If you ask them for fishing advice, be prepared to filter out the knowledge and save it for later! Trout fishing in these waters can be technical and their selection of flies spans a whole side of the building. When you ask em whats working, be specific and let them know where you plan on fishing and your level of fishing. We watched people in there with the most befuddled looks, wondering if they should have stuck to fishing with Powerbait and night crawlers.
At then end of the day, and after a considerable amount of driving, we made camp somewhere on FS2S07.
It was just past afternoon when Will called me and mentioned there was a fire blocking his way through Yosemite and he would need to find a route around the park. Flipping through my Delorme Atlas, I suggested he take the 108 and go around towards Bridgeport. It only added on an extra hour. We met Will at a little coffee shop called Looney Bean Coffee in the town of Mammoth Lakes. There were so many crazy vanagon campers in this area, and we met a fellow driving one that Jason had helped out on the side of the road a few years back! After a quick stop to the Troutfitter Fly Shop, we headed out to fish the evening hatch at Hot Creek. The Troutfitter fly shop is quite a nice fly shop. Interestingly, there were more workers in there than I have EVER seen a fly shop. If you ask them for fishing advice, be prepared to filter out the knowledge and save it for later! Trout fishing in these waters can be technical and their selection of flies spans a whole side of the building. When you ask em whats working, be specific and let them know where you plan on fishing and your level of fishing. We watched people in there with the most befuddled looks, wondering if they should have stuck to fishing with Powerbait and night crawlers.
At then end of the day, and after a considerable amount of driving, we made camp somewhere on FS2S07.
Camping Along FS#2S07
Just like the night before, we woke at 5am and started the morning routine - hygiene, breaking down camp and making coffee. When you continually move with your camper, the campsite itself doesn't really matter and there is a sense of nomadic life that reminds you that you're alive and frees you from your mental ties, at least for a little while. At the advice of John Hendrickson at San Diego Fly Shop, we decided to hit up the San Joaquin river via the Devils Postpile National Monument.
Where is the Devil? We heard this area had spirits, but we only found them in a bottle we had brought with us.
Devils Postpile National Park is nestled against the Ansel Adams Wilderness. The postpile itself is a quick little hike along an easy trail that takes you to the base of the formation. There are also plenty of trails that connect this route to the Pacific Coast Trail which connects the western states from north to south.
The Middle fork of the San Joaquin looks nothing like the Owens river, just to its east. The owens meanders through fields spotted with cattle - the San Joaquin is filled with pools and waterfalls that go through canyon walls. Both unique and visually stimulating. There were not many hatches on the MFSJ, with minimal vegetation that attracts the bugs - so I opted to fish with #14 Hoppers and San Juan Worms. Ever since fishing some streams in Montana with my Father In law, I have loved the San Juan Worm. Sometimes it feels like cheating when using one of these guys! We casted the little guys just beneath the waterfalls and watched them float right to waiting fish in the pools along the river.
Jason babying his 6x tippet while hooked up to a little brook trout.
After fishing the morning, we head back to the van, made a quick brunch and explored the area a bit more. Will was getting a little ansy and wanted to fish this crystal clear lake we saw on the way into the park. We quickly made our way back down the hill and suited up. There were anglers on the shoreline tossing worms into the lake, but it was the float tubers and fly anglers that were continually catching fish. We grabbed our 5wt's and headed off to the water to fish. At first, we all used olive or black wooly buggers. A couple of hits, but no takers. I noticed a bit more activity on the surface, so I switched to a #16 Johns Magic Fly. I call it that because at the time I had NO idea what kind of fly it was. It was a hybrid fly tied by Jasons dad John. Jason had them in a small box for nearly 20 years! We had split up the box before the trip and I thought, why the hell not! They slammed the fly hard! That night, I was giddy catching and releasing nice chubby trout and could not wait to hit it the next morning.
Starkweather Lake
We woke up late the next morning and Will was bummed. He had some other engagement to go to that day and needed to head down the mountain and head home. When we got back to the lake, he took off on his long drive back to the bay area - but on his way caught sight of a black bear within the park limits. He quickly snapped a few shots from his drivers seat and drove home.
Back at Starkweather, Jason and I were catching fish left and right - sharing the water with only 2 shore pounders who flung worms in the water to unwilling trout - feasting on flies. In only a couple hours we caught so many fish that we were throwing anything to see if they we would get bit! I even began testing my new Kaenon Sunglasses to see which lens worked better to spot fish! The wind picked up soon after, and as the ripples grew, our dry flies sank and we knew it was time to head out. With the road behind us, I looked out my rear view mirror and watched the mountains fade away. Soon, some of the mountain roads would be impassible and our footprints would be gone. We left mammoth with a smile and hopefully cleaner than when we arrived. It wasn't much - but I wanted to share this experience with my son. And like many things that are priceless, the area can be taken away by heavy fees and roads and progress. Any little bit helps.
J
SMB
Successful Sale!
When Nicole first approached me with having a garage sale two years ago, I threw it up there with the rest of her crazy ideas. Who the heck wants to get up at 6:30am and sell anything? Who in their right mind wants to go buy stuff from someone else at 6:30 in the morning? Well, having done this a couple times... many people. Its unbelievable how many people are looking for that one particular thing that is no longer sold in stores. Maybe its someone who is just looking for a deal. The bottom line is -- garage sales work on multiple levels.
First - you get paid for something that has probably sit in your closet or garage for a couple years (or even more).
Second - you get your space back.
For me, the key issue has always been space. We have two separate "one car" garages. Which means, by todays standards.. its a narrow garage not much bigger than your average parking space at Vons. With more kid stuff coming in than leaving (there always exists the potential for another child until one of us, gets our tubes cut), we have been struggling to find more storage. Nicole parks her car in one garage, so that pretty much leaves the majority of storage in the other. With all my large tools, and surfboards, there isn't much room to park my truck, much less our future van. But today, I'm free to design my garage the way I want to. We've sold a good portion of things we no longer use, which again means, which I will no longer store in my garage. I'm going to have to develop some nice shelves or cabinets to house my future junk.
For Nicole, I'm sure it was about selling. She tells me (and herself) that she hates to sell stuff. But quite honestly, she's a natural. I'm fairly sure she gets that from her Dad. She was wheeling and dealing, attempting to sell water to the Alhambra delivery guy. She was great. If you got your own salesperson at home... you aught to think of having a garage sale. I'm sure you have stuff filling up your house.
First - you get paid for something that has probably sit in your closet or garage for a couple years (or even more).
Second - you get your space back.
For me, the key issue has always been space. We have two separate "one car" garages. Which means, by todays standards.. its a narrow garage not much bigger than your average parking space at Vons. With more kid stuff coming in than leaving (there always exists the potential for another child until one of us, gets our tubes cut), we have been struggling to find more storage. Nicole parks her car in one garage, so that pretty much leaves the majority of storage in the other. With all my large tools, and surfboards, there isn't much room to park my truck, much less our future van. But today, I'm free to design my garage the way I want to. We've sold a good portion of things we no longer use, which again means, which I will no longer store in my garage. I'm going to have to develop some nice shelves or cabinets to house my future junk.
For Nicole, I'm sure it was about selling. She tells me (and herself) that she hates to sell stuff. But quite honestly, she's a natural. I'm fairly sure she gets that from her Dad. She was wheeling and dealing, attempting to sell water to the Alhambra delivery guy. She was great. If you got your own salesperson at home... you aught to think of having a garage sale. I'm sure you have stuff filling up your house.