I would like to report that the chubby red squirrel navigated its way up the pine tree to the fifth level of branches with no assistance from me whatsoever.
You may be amazed to learn — as I was to see — that Red carried a small pinecone in its jaws while performing this feat.
Look, I know squirrels do this sort of thing very well without me. But it just seemed so important to me at the moment.
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After waking up around 8 a.m., leisurely packing, and enjoying a nice breakfast, it occurs to me that our strategy for hiking the West Highland Way here in Scotland is a good one.
Instead of chewing up the entire 96 miles in 6 or 7 days, we are taking ten. This means later starts most days, a leisurely pace, side trips to curiosities, and an early arrival at our destination. Best of all, time to recover from the previous day’s exertions. Oh, yes, and a wee bit more pub time after we cross the finish line.
Take today for example. We set out to cover the nearly eight miles between Drymen and Balmaha. It is mostly a leisurely uphill stroll through farmland, fallow fields, forests, and fern breaks — until you reach Conic Hill.
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How long did it take? Maybe less than a mile. No, easily less than a mile.
But, technically, I wasn’t lost.
I just didn’t know where I was headed.
And I did feel … what’s the word I’m reaching for? Ah, yes: Foolish.
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It looks like I won’t be wearing a kilt as we hike the West Highland Way.
It’s not that my heart was set up on it. The whole idea started as a bit of a joke. I think Susan suggested that her husband, Brian, wear one because he has nice legs and would look good in one. He good-naturedly went along with the idea.
Rose said my legs were OK, too, and maybe I should wear one. I went hot and cold on the idea.
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Well, we’re off to see the Wizard.
Or very soon.
Our bus left at 1 p.m. for CDMX, the airport in Mexico City. Our British Airways flight takes off at 10 p.m. for Edinburgh. There has been discussion over whether nine hours is leaving enough time to make our flight, given the capricious and precarious nature of highway travel in Mexico.
Our first roll of the dice. First of many in the next couple of weeks, I imagine.
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The San Miguel Writers’ Conference and Literary Festival heads into its 20th year with a diverse and impressive lineup of keynote speakers, led by “Cider House Rules” author John Irving. The literary festival takes place February 12–16, 2025, at the Hotel Real de Minas.
There are two components to the weeklong festival — the keynote speaker series and the actual writers’ conference which is a jaw-dropping series of workshops for writers of all sorts, aspirations, and interests.
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Sorry if things look a little abbreviated this week. There are two major football/soccer tournaments going on and even if all my favorites — across the world — have been knocked out of contention, the playing has been superb. Copa America and Euro Cup — check them out. The style of playing in each tournament could not be more different from the other.
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Hussong’s Cantina on Ruiz Street in Ensenada, Baja, is one of those checklist places that anyone from San Diego had to visit at least once.
An original Caesar salad in Tijuana (or one of the more unsavory attractions), a margarita at the Rosarito Beach Hotel, a stop for lobster and a pitcher of margaritas in Puerto Nuevo, and a night at Hussong’s, ebbing and flowing with the tide of drunken masses.
Now that was a pretty good weekend.
Hussong’s was unique among cantinas. It wasn’t artificially constructed as some faux Mexican fantasy to pull in the tourists with campy decor and T-shirts. Hussong’s holds liquor license No. 2 in Ensenada and is in the same building John Hussong bought and gussied up in 1892.
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I tried my idea for global peace on a few people in the crowd today as we waited for the Exploding Judases to commence.
“What if all across the United States people had a day like this where you could hang effigies of your enemies and other bad people — and watch as they were blown to bits?”
“Just think of the catharsis!”
How to begin to describe the strange looks that I got. …
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If you haven’t been, you owe it to yourself to go see the Exploding Judases, today, Sunday, at noon. Go sooner and get a close-up look at the lifesize papier mache figures that will be blown to smithereens. You may even recognize one or two! You may even want to project a name or two of your own onto the more anonymous ones.
Frankly, the pyrotechnics signal the end of High Season, that semi-sad time of year when the season begins to change, to heat up and get really really dry, and all that money changes course and begins to flow back north to the United States and Canada.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 