I’m going to California again, this time to take my 15 year old son to a boarding school interview. The younger three are coming along for the ride, seeing as there is nothing for them to do at home, and their dad is very busy polishing up his dissertation for submission next week.

With the help of a camera and my son, I’ve now, after 2 days, hundreds of digital photos of our trip.  Don’t worry, you will not be subjected to even a significant fraction of these — though I very much enjoyed Pia’s shots of Northern California last month.

We stopped overnight at the spring-fed swimming pool at Balmorhea State Park about 200 miles southeast of El Paso. This oasis in the desert was certainly worth stopping through, especially since the one-night stop over fit well with our driving plan, and the first thing in the morning swim got us refreshed and ready for a 700 mile day.

It is the only pool I’ve ever visited that was full of fish. Also, it’s 25 feet deep. Also, it was built by the civilian conservation corps during the Great Depression, which puts it in good company — that’s the same source as Fort Worth’s Botanic Garden’s rose terrace.

Driving across the west always puts thought of the pioneers in my mind, but of course I have to admit that taking a three day car trip to the coast is one thing; setting off into a wilderness with nothing but your immediate family, a wagon and a couple of draft animals is something very different.

Much of the day today involved me driving and trying to get through the time without loosing alertness, safety or my mind. The kids were good for most of the day. There was just one incident of concern, and that happened just after dark on the road from Tucson through to Phoenix when they got rather out of control, starting with some accusations about who was doing what to ruin the atmosphere inside the car.

But most of the day was more looking out the window at buttes and mountains, trucks and trains, and mediating on the fact that so few people live out here. The human population carrying capacity of the southwest seems minimal until you get to Phoenix, about 1000 miles from Fort Worth. As we rolled into Phoenix, where we stopped at a Red Roof Inn, my son reflected: “what a great city! Look at it, it’s beautiful!” Asked to elaborate why he said this, he could not, but I have to agree with him: Phoenix has the feel of a real metropolis, at least when you come out of the Great Southwestern Desert.