Blooming hills in Southern California.

Wild hare in Mojave Desert.

End of March brought my birthday. One positive thing about it was that they still did not start with the digit five. The other positive thing was a matter of chance. A colleague vaulting mother has noticed that Cirque du Soleil was planning to perform in San Jose, and that they offer twenty percent discount upon a purchase of twelve tickets — and she secured those tickets just for the day of my birth anniversary. I had long wished to see the Cirque, but we had always just missed their stop in our Bay Area, or we did not have anybody to babysit our (then) small children, or we were driving through their home base, Las Vegas, Nevada, with no time to stop, or whilst having pressing plans. After nineteen years I thus had finally got to see their show.

It's probably redundant to describe the magnificent show, I would probably not be able to encompass it all. One thing makes me sad — they don't publish performers' names anywhere. Perhaps the circus does not consider itself as artful as a classic ballet, but there's no doubt that all those tricks and numbers take a lot of sweat a blood. Every C-rated Hollywood starlet gets her name posted in credits, here — nothing.

Holes in the Wall: rocks look like Swiss cheese.

Hole in the Wall: monkey rings on the rocks.

Lisa was watching the show very attentively and tensely — she has been gathering her own partial insight into a world where art meets athletics — free-style vaulting rides combine music, costumes and artistic composition, with the rigor and specificity of evaluated poses. And with moments when your health (and perhaps your life) depends on your team partner. Lisa liked the circus show very much — only now we have a problem, for instead of veterinary studies she considers running away to the circus.

Spring break was a time we wanted to spend in desert, being dry; not in tens of feet of snow, which we had enjoyed quite enough during past winter. Yet our original plan to visit Zion National Park had to be scrapped — for snow and mudslides made the rangers close all our favorite trails — driving all that distance and paying hotels to take a few pictures of pretty rocks from parking lots, felt like a waste of time. Thus we foreshortened our road trip to only Vegas and Death Valley, which got us within five days, thus Lisa gained the option to still participate in her vaulting practices on Sundays.

On Monday we took it through Paso Robles, with our traditional lunch at Basil Thai, where the waitress still remembers us, although our visits became few and far between in the last years. Refreshed, we continued into Los Padres, to do some target shooting — one of our hobbies, for which we did not have enough time lately. Nevertheless, the greatest attraction of this journey were blooms. Our oak savanna that normally surrounds us with its dry, golden grass, suddenly wore its spring-time green coat bejeweled with flowers of all colors, which had attracted not only swarm of insects, but also surprisingly numerous crowds of tourists (surprising mostly because this was a weekday).

Calico Tanks.

A little canyon under Zabriskie.

We had reserved our hotel in Tehachapi, where Sid and Tom wanted to get a pizza, while Lisa and I wanted to just collapse onto our beds (sitting in the car combined with nibbling snacks causes lack of appetite in both of us), but when Sid phoned me that they had good beer in a new pizzeria around the corner, I let him talk me into one or two.

On Tuesday we headed to Hobbits in Vegas, through Kelso and Hole in the Wall. We had hoped a bit that there would be cacti blooming in the desert, but most likely we had missed that. There was still much abloom in the desert, but bushes there have very inconspicuous flowers and most of the time we only notice them by spotting insects buzzing around. Our hike through the rocks with holes like Swiss cheese and scrambling up steel rings in a crevice was this year enhanced by a wild hare that let us take pictures.

We secured our hotel room and went to have a dinner and a chat (and beer) with Hobbits. While at it, we have figured out that it had been over two years since we visited Las Vegas — last time on Christmas 2016; time seems to pass faster than ever. We had the room for two nights, to get a little break from our endless sitting in the car — and to fit in a proper visit at Red Rock. Lisa asked for a hike to Calico Tanks, which made us rather happy — as long as our teenagers are willing to accompany their parents on such road trips, and even ask for specific attractions, it is all still good. We had Thai dinner that night, with our friends again, and on Thursday morning we set out freshly toward Death Valley.

In a little canyon.

Two hundred eighty two feet below sea level.

Just like Zion, Death Valley was affected by floods and subsequent trail closures. We missed most Mosaic Canyon, which we have not seen for a few years and wanted to walk trough it again. Returning back to our car down from Zabriskie point lookout, I noticed a giant dry river bed carved in the nearby desert slope, disappearing into rocks under Zabriskie. Following the trace of this recent flood, we had found a miniature canyon newly carved in rocks just like Mosaic Canyon does. We were able to get in and follow it down a little, before a ten-foot step stopped us — we would not be able to scramble back up — and we were not equipped to trek all the way to the road in the valley below.

Our next stop was Badwater, two hundred eighty two feet under sea level, which was for a long time regarded as the lowest surface point of western hemisphere. You see, we had discovered that our children had been to the place only once, and in their preschool years at that, so we decided to widen their horizons. Given the fact that it was an idea incepted by their boring and embarrassing parents, it did not evoke their enthusiasm and willingness like Calico Tanks, but eventually we all marched beyond a well trodden path to places less worn out, where one could spot salt basins.

I will never get tired of seeing Sierra Nevada like that.

A small arch at Alabama Hills.

In the evening we set our anchor in Lone Pine, at our favorite Frontier (Best Western) hotel. They pride in huge rooms, a view to a snow-capped Sierra with Lone Pine Peak and Mt. Whitney over pastures with black cows; they feature excellent breakfast; we enhance it by a Chinese dinner in a "Merry Go-Round", which thanks to its friendly owner always fits a lot of guests. All this felt like a comforting breath. Lone Pine in winter, out of season, is my favorite place. We could fulfill another teenager wish in the morning and go to Alabama Hills. We did not climb rock this time, but instead went for a walk to Moebius Arch. We scattered among the rocks intermittently, soon finding each other again; kids climbed tops of reachable rocks, and we took pictures like crazy. No wonder that Alabama Hills became so sought-after by film-makers — bizarre rocks on the backdrop of snowy mountains are very photogenic.
All that was left then was jump in our car and stretch those seven hours behind the wheel, to be home for dinner again.

Alas, I had paid for this trip by getting a sinus infection, which derailed me from normal life for two weeks. First there were a few days when I kept a hope that it would pass, then I visited my dentist, who assured that it was not a toothache I was feeling, and in the end I saw our general practitioner and got antibiotics for next ten days. During my illness I managed to arrange a vet's visit with the goats. The horned goat, Hazel, kept limping, and Toni wanted a joint shot for her, and I added my Twilight to find out whether she was pregnant or not. Sadly, ultrasound has shown — or rather failed to show — that our goat was not pregnant. It was disappointing that we would have no baby goats. On the other hand — we could be glad that there would be less stress.

Moebius Arch at Alabama Hills.

Lisa begins her free-style double by being upside down.

As the stable won't need to house baby goats, I was able to offer shelter to an elderly rooster Red and two senior hens. Toni claims that Red's about eleven years old, and last year's young rooster began to beat Red too hard (there's a saying about two cockerels on one heap). Yet Red and old hens are favorite with little campers and party-goers, for they are tame, tolerate being lifted and petted, so they have not lost their usefulness. I was a bit worried how my goaties would respond to the fowl, but it seems that they like their presence. So far they have not gone as far as Brownie, who lets chickens ride on his back, but they appear more comfortable — well, these are three more pairs of eyes watching for possible predators, and three beaks can raise a real alarm.

Meanwhile, Lisa vaulting has finally done trundling toward a first competition, albeit on barrel only. Sadly, the adult team has broken up, for one woman had moved away and Thibault broke an arm. Fortunately, the head coach has supported Lisa and remaining vaulter Kate in letting the "girls" practice a pas-de-deux. Kate is an adult, certainly at least twice Lisa's age, incredibly nice, and Lisa is visibly gaining from being regarded as a peer. Thus Lisa had much to expect from the competition. Which she complicated by announcing about three weeks before the date that she won't perform a Pink Panther individual theme, for she wanted something "less child-like", eventually choosing Game of Thrones. Well I know this was not a minor-rated series, but she had kind of failed to ask us whether it was OK before she started watching it. Perhaps I can find comfort in the fact that of all the bloody slaughters and a plethora of psychopaths, she chose Daenerys Targaryen — a princess who grew up secretly in exile, owning three dragons. This last moment change meant quickly swapping the music and finding a costume. That is hard, unless we wish to pay hundreds of dollars for a custom thing (and we don't). Try finding over the shelf dance outfit matching the theme, order and have it shipped in time; now pray we had chosen the right size.

Dragon Princess.

Free style.

Marathon of competitions began with getting up before seven o'clock. Our bus has gradually picked up Ava with her mom, then the girls' coach — competitions took place in tiny private stables, with no public parking to speak of, and we had to fit into as few cars as possible. Then the usual — getting all hair into tidy, tight buns, changing into costumes, locating registration numbers, herding of small girls, and lining up for compulsories. This competition was relatively merciful, as compulsories ran in the morning, so the girls could keep their club uniforms. I still don't understand why compulsories had to be done twice or three times in one event, but apparently these are different things and there is some reason for it, it seems.

During the later morning and the noon pause, there was an inter-club Easter fun competition, parents had to answer (without consulting Google) various questions of common knowledge, runners performed a relay with rubber Easter chicks on a spoon, and coaches were bobbing for apples (no hands!). Our club has won "a golden egg" — and the grand prize was surprisingly valuable — a training with Kristian Roberts (after he would return for a championships in France).

Team theme is dragons (for a change).

Shoulder-stand.

Those noon-time races pumped already hyper-acting vaulters (especially the younger ones) so much that afternoon free-style were conducted amidst even more erratic running around and havoc. Lisa's group had only eight minutes to change between individual and team set. Fortunately Lisa only swaps her top dress, leaving lower layer of ice-skating pants, which can really not be put on too fast.

After a team set, adrenaline crash had arrived — girls dropped off one after another. Lisa wanted to stay until results were posted. In compulsories, she scored third of seventeen, in individual free-style she was fifth of fifteen. In double with Kate, they rated third (but of mere four), and the whole team ended last (fourth of four) — which we had more or less expected; after all there are many newbies and small girls — what counts is that girls did compete and have learned something. Overall it was a rather successful competition, and a pleasant start of the season; next round will be on horses.