Back in Pasadena.
Our journey south was a passage from green to brown, from cool to hot. We left Seal Rock with daytime highs in the low 50's; 48 hours later, we were into the high 80's outside of Stockton, back in the golden-brown dry weeds under blank washed-out blue skies. All very familiar.
Entering the L.A. basin late Saturday was a bit unnerving; after months of taking clear clean air for granted, we descended into our bowl of smoke and haze - a return to purgatory.
A couple of days ago I went over to the Rose Bowl area for a midday bike ride (nice to be wearing shorts again). As I arrived, there were 8 or 9 helicopters landing and taking off from a portion of the vast parking lots. An hour before, there had been many sirens ringing through town. My first assessment, glancing towards the mountains, was that a large grass fire was under way in the canyon near JPL. As I was getting my bike out of the car, I considered whether or not it was such a good idea to be doing heavy exercise in such polluted air.
Of course - you guessed it - there was no wildfire. The helicopters were just doing a disaster-preparation exercise. It was the normal L.A. sky.