Into the Hills

A common complaint lodged against the San Diego area is that there are no seasons. While I disagree with this argument in principle (one only has to acclimate themselves to the area to recognize that San Diego weather shifts remarkably throughout the year), I realize that what people really mean to say is that San Diego lacks the "normal" succession of seasonal changes that one might find in northern or less coastal areas. But to really get a sense of the changing seasons around our little sunshine-graced bubble, one only need head up into the county's numerous mountain chains, where the winter nights turn frigid and the passes fill with snow. San Diego County's high point is only 6,140 feet - high enough to provide remarkable vistas and temperature changes, but still dwarfed by the nearby San Jacinto range (upwards of 10,000 feet) and the San Bernardino range (especially 11,499-foot San Gorgonio Mountain), just over the Riverside and San Bernardino County lines.

Still, San Diego's Cuyamaca Range, Laguna Range and Mount Palomar offer a taste of the High Sierras - pine, oak, cedar and fir forests line the upland areas, and small ponds and streams dot the valleys. Palomar is both the northernmost mountain range in the area and the farthest west, which means it is the first range to intercept ocean moisture rising off the shoreline forty miles away. This location means Palomar is among the coldest and wettest areas in San Diego County.

Jane and I spent a quick weekend up in Mount Palomar with some friends at a rented cabin, positioned directly over the long drop into the surrounding valleys. The cabin was a restored 1930s retreat, and boasted an impressive deck that we spent much of our time on, enjoying the views. Saturday was clear and warm, and we were able to spot the distant coastline, the slope of the Point Loma peninsula and the Mexican islands of Los Coronados - well over an hour and half's drive away. During the night, the clouds and fog rolled in, and we awoke to an amazing white-out as the clouds parked themselves around our cabin and pummelled the walls with gusts. We got to bundle up in jackets, drink the homemade mulled cider that Jane made, and generally feel that we weren't missing out on the rapidly approaching end to fall that so many of our friends and family members are enjoying / experiencing throughout the country.

I'm back at the beach now, with a cool breeze rustling the palm fronds. There's no need to boast, but there are times when this area really does seem to have it all.