Gil Mellé's Los Angeles projects

Mellé's drawing of cleaning equipment in SP's Taylor Engine Terminal, RMC Dec'65

In 1965 Gil Mellé had 3 articles published in RMC about building various types of structures he observed on trip(s) to rail equipment servicing facilities and yards in the Los Angeles area. The articles are:

Los Angeles Junction Diesel Shed, May ’65

Diesel Fuel Tank, July ’65

SP Parts Servicing Depot, December ’65

I particularly like the opening to the Dec ’65 article:

For anyone who has been a rail fan for a long time as I have, nothing could be more rewarding than the five mile trip I recently took through the Los Angeles yard area of the SP. Perched atop a flat car I was immediately made aware of the space age changes that were present everywhere. I saw freight cars of mammothian proportions and unfamiliar design! Mentally I tried to see them negotiate a tight radius and (in error I’m sure) I doubted that they could. In some cases the weird designs were dictated by the very nature of what they must transport. There was an interlocking tower that more closely resembled a home for alien life than a yardmaster and his assistants. I’d like to do an article on that concrete beauty in the near future but for now shall describe how you can duplicate an operation on the SP that was installed a few years ago.

Various online biographies seem a bit vague on when Mellé relocated from New Jersey to Los Angeles and re-entered the music business. Based on my experience with E. L. Moore's articles, it appears that RMC would publish articles within a few months after their receipt, so I speculate that maybe Mellé relocated as early as 1964 and appears to have been there in 1965. I guess these articles could have been merely the result of a visit to Los Angeles, but hopefully I can find some corroborating evidence in the future. For whatever reason, he seems to have had his feet in LA in either '64 or '65.

The Dec ’65 article appears to be his last; however, that opening paragraph teases the reader with the spectre of a future article on the interlocking tower. I’m going to take another look and see if that article did materialize, and if there are others I might have overlooked.

On flying trees, Weatherbreaks, Skybreaks and Skyshields

Assembly team climbing around the Weatherbreak dome

On the Saturday of the Victoria Day long weekend, the traditional kick-off to summer here in Ontario, we were hit by a storm of historic proportions: a so-called ‘derecho’ that blew winds up to 190 km/h, and stretched all the way from Windsor, Ontario in the west to Quebec City in the east, a distance of around 1,200 km. I’ve never experienced such a thing in my life. It turns out we were out in the bush when it hit, and took cover in the back room of a cabin as it blew through. We got through ok, but our vehicle wasn’t so lucky: a healthy 12” diameter, 8’ foot long branch that the winds tore off the top of an 80’ pine tree - one much like the tall HO pines on the Loonar Module - bounced off its windshield and roof. Luckily, our vehicle was repairable, and after nearly 7 weeks in the shop, we’re mobile again.

Of the many things that have bubbled up in my mind since then was Buckminster Fuller’s Skybreak geodesic dome. The best description I’ve found of the Skybreak concept is Lloyd Steven Sieden’s in his 1989 book, Buckminster Fuller’s Universe: An Appreciation:

The skybreak dwelling … was to cover the complete grounds of a residence rather than simply to enclose a number of rooms as is normally the case. That larger dome was to have transparent sections which could be covered to provide shade or privacy; however, the dome would also provide constant environmental control and protection from rain, snow, wind, and insects as well as temperature. Within that dome, people could build rooms for privacy if they desired, but the entire interior was designed to be filled with trees and plants, so the inhabitants would have the advantages of nature year-round.

There are also a few photos of early Skybreak models and drawings in the 1960 book, The Dymaxion World of Buckminster Fuller.

I started to think about a Skybreak-like dome that wasn’t necessarily sealed off from the elements as a pure Skybreak was, but was somewhat permeable, and simply provided protection from the extremes of nature for a more-or-less conventional house and grounds. The extraordinary strength of a geodesic dome could help defend against flying debris in severe storms - which we’re told we’re likely to experience with greater frequency in the years to come - as well as moderate weather effects. This sort of variation on the Skybreak concept might be better described as a Skyshield.

So, I went on a Google mission to learn more about the Skybreak, and one of the things I found along the way was this fascinating book called Montreal’s Geodesic Dreams: Jeffery Lindsay and the Fuller Research Foundation Canadian Division by Cammie Mcatee, published in 2017 by Dalhousie Architectural Press. 

Skybreak in Los Angeles

It’s a fascinating book because although I’ve known that Buckminster Fuller had a Canadian Division based in Montreal in the late '40s and early '50s, I didn’t realize the crucial role it played in the development of his geodesic domes. It turns out “the first large-span, self-supporting geodesic dome ever built according to Richard Buckminister Fuller’s theories”, the 49’ diameter Weatherbreak dome, was designed and built by the Canadian team in Baie-D'Urfé, Quebec in December 1950. It was the cover story of the August 1951 issue of Architectural Forum, and Fuller described the Weatherbreak in his 1951 patent application for a geodesic construction system. The Canadian Division then built the first Skybreak dome, a smaller 27’ diameter structure, during the summer of 1951, near Lake Saint-Louis, Quebec. The Skybreak had a long life, and surprisingly, it was moved down to Los Angeles where it lead a glamorous existence far from its beginnings in snowy Montreal.

For all the details, get a copy of Montreal’s Geodesic Dreams. The only quibble I have with it is its 8 1/2” square format as that makes for some rather small pictures, and it does contain many excellent photos and illustrations which alone are worth the price of the book. But, a larger book would mean a larger price, so, as I said, this is just a quibble.

Angels Flight, Bunker Hill, and Memory

I came across this video over at 3 Quarks Daily and couldn't let it pass by. As a side note, you may recall Perry Mason had a parking problem at Angels Flight. That episode aired in February 1966, near the end of the original Angels Flight's life in 1969.

Something more than a train set

Pyramid Pictures boasted a logo to equal Paramount or Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer - a disembodied eye above a pyramid, the Masonic symbol on the dollar bill. But the lot, occupying a stretch of the Estate, was equivalent to the follies on with eighteenth-century English nobility squandered pocket money. The studio was a backyard train set for a grown boy who wanted to wear a driver's hat and toot a whistle.

A fictional Raymond Chandler describing the backlot at a fictional Pyramid Pictures in Kim Newman's book, Something More Than Night.

This is the biggest electric train set a boy ever had!

The real Orson Welles surveying the backlot at the real RKO Pictures.

Ain't no mountain Lowe enough

When we were in Los Angeles last month, we made a special side-trip up the Angeles Crest Highway to hike on Mt. Lowe. Long story short, unlike last time, I hiked it, but afterwards regretted it.

Although it was sunny in the mountains, with temperatures in the mid to high 50s, parts of the trail that were in shadow were covered in rotten snow. Also, many trail sections had loose debris from slides. Often the trail was no more than around 12" wide with quite a drop on one side. 

When I was finished and back on the main trail I had an overwhelming feeling that I'd done a stupid thing, and was lucky to be back without incident. That night and the next I had nightmares about slipping off the trail and into the canyon. My mountain days are over. I'm sticking with the beach :-)

Studio Model at the Hollywood Heritage Museum

Studio Model overview from above the front gates

We were in Los Angeles last week, and one afternoon we took a little side trip to see the vintage miniature Hollywood diorama at the Hollywood Heritage Museum.

It turns out the majority of the diorama is housed off-site at the museum's annex on Hollywood Boulevard. The annex wasn't open when we visited, but there was a module on display at the museum, the Studio Model, and it was certainly worth dropping by.

To recap a bit, in the 1930s Joseph Pelkofer, a cabinet maker, and a team of around 25 built a diorama - maybe layout would be a better term - of central Hollywood as it was at the time. The layout measured around 11' x 12', and included 450 or so buildings. It's currently being restored by the museum. 

Section of wild west backlot scene

Apparently the Studio Model doesn't represent any particular Hollywood studio, but was meant to illustrate the main elements that comprise one. The miniature buildings are quite well executed, but to me the most interesting items are the back lot sets which include a wild west town, a winter scene, ruins, a sea port from the days of sail, and what looks like a desert scene.

It's not clear what the scale is, but I'd say it's definitely smaller than HO; maybe around TT (1:120); the figures seemed a little too tall for N (1:160). 

There's a lot more film memorabilia in the museum than this module, and the museum building itself is a piece of Hollywood history. The staff were friendly and helpful, and didn't mind thoughtfully answering my odd questions. It's a fascinating place to visit.

I did a little searching to see if I could find anymore information about Joe Pelkofer and his Hollywood layout. Nothing turned up in the Model Railroader archive, but I wouldn't be surprised to find something in Model Craftsman, although I don't have many issues from the '30s.

One interesting detour showed up in Popular Mechanics. In the July 1938 issue they've highlighted on the cover a story about a huge layout built on a Hollywood sound stage for a movie then in production. They don't name the movie, but after a little digging it turns out to be something called Four's a Crowd that was released in 1938. This seems like an A-list feature as it stars Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Rosalind Russell, and Patrick Knowles. The giant layout isn't owned and operated by any of that four, no, it's the domain of actor Walter Connolly, who plays an eccentric millionaire. 

Lucky for us the movie is available online. You get the first glimpse of the layout around the 17 minute mark, and it doesn't fail to impress.

Perry Mason has a parking problem at Angels Flight

At the beginning of The Case of the Twice Told-Twist, Perry decides to take the Angels Flight funicular to visit a client and have him sign some papers before an evening at the theatre with Della.

Perry and Della pull into the parking lot at the top of Angels Flight.

This episode's in colour, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the cool blue of Perry's car.

Perry and Della leave the car and head off to the station.

This episode aired on 27 February 1966, so I'm assuming that's how the station looked in '65 / '66.

And, they're off. The car's empty except for Perry and Della. Perry says the task will take less than 10 minutes, so they shouldn't miss the opening curtain.

And in less than 10 minutes, with business completed, they're almost back to the station.

Yikes! 

Even the rag top is gone.

Thieves must have had more courtesy back then because when a friend's car had its snow tires and wheels taken off, the theives just left the car dropped, wheelless, on the snowy parking lot. At least these ones left Perry's car up on blocks.






This might not have been a good advertisement for the funicular given Perry Mason's popularity, but it was interesting to see what the funicular looked like at the time. Apparently this was the only episode of Perry Mason's original series filmed in colour. It was good to see the cast and familiar places in something other than glorious black-and-white, but the story seemed like it took its cues from a beach movie with Frankie and Annette.

PCC at the Palm Place loop on the LA MTA J Line

From pg. 60 of The Los Angeles Railway Through the Years

At yesterday's post, nscalestation commented that the layout's park loop reminded him of a similar one on the Los Angeles Metropolitan Transit Authority's J Line. I took a look through my only book on the LA MTA, Steven L. Easlon's 1973 The Los Angeles Railway Through the Years, to see what I might find.

Although wikipedia suggests the line had 3 loops, all I could find in Mr. Easlon's book is that photo. Its caption has this to say: Car 3069 is shown here waiting at the Palm Place loop in South Gate at the end of the "J" line in the early 1960's. Since the P.C.C.'s were singled-ended, they required reverse loops to turn them around. That looks like an interesting shelter to the left of the PCC that might make for a nice little model.

The Well Appointed Site Office

The scene of wanton miniature building crushing in The Case of the Golden Oranges took place in this trailer that was being used as a subdivision construction site office.

On the outside it looks like any other trailer of it's type being put to this use, but on the inside it seems rather well appointed.

It's got faux wood panelling, curtains on the windows, a selection of hardcover books on the shelf - not to mention pottery - as well as very decent furniture. I guess this is for the benefit of potential buyers and well-heeled investors. Or maybe it's just product placement. Or maybe the set dressers used whatever they had on hand.

And as you can see from this and the previous photo, there was more than one miniature house - or 'little trinket' as the characters called them - scattered around. It looks like there are 2 on the drafting table, 1 on the desk by the woman, and another in the foreground by the man's elbow.

The fictional development was called Sunrise Hills, and you can see the Modern Homes it offers start at $22,500, with no down payment. That was in the spring of 1963 in an equally fictional, although likely close to reality, soon to be ex orange grove in the outskirts of Los Angeles. My parents first home, in 1957 in a then non-fictional, far-flung hinterland of Toronto, clocked in at $16,025. 

(If you're wondering about the differences between US and Canadian currency in that era, Wikipedia has this to say: ... Canada allowed its dollar to float in 1950, whereupon the currency rose to a slight premium over the U.S. dollar for the next decade. But the Canadian dollar fell sharply after 1960 before it was again pegged in 1962 at C$1.00 = US$0.925....This peg lasted until 1970, after which the currency's value has floated).

Paul Detlefsen, Legendary Matte Painter & Legendary Model Railroader

My reading last week saw the name Paul Detlefsen pop up. A few years back Vince told me about a Paul Detlefsen print his father owned, and this lead into a whole discussion about Mr. Detlefsen's model railroad. Yes, this artist who as NZPete notes as one of Hollywood's greatest matte painters, and Wikipedia claims that by 1969 80% of Americans had seen some example of his artwork, was also a great model railroader, probably as great, if not greater than, John Allen, and true to form, there is no mention of this in Wikipedia. 

I briefly touched on Mr. Detlefsen's model railroad back in 2016 in a post about wordless cover art on the model railroad magazines of the '60s. But go deeper and take a look at the story The ride of your life! by Linn Westcott and John Allen in the December '61 issue of Model Railroader about Mr. Detlefsen's layout. As for layout stats, it's in O scale with 1200 feet of track and 48 inch radius curves. This thing was big. And, I'd argue, with scenery possibly more spectacular than that seen on the Gorre & Daphetid, which was the high water mark in layouts at the time. Although, given that Paul Detlefsen and John Allen were contemporaries, and Mr. Allen's layout was widely published in the model railroading press, I wonder how much influence, if any, one had on the other.

Two things in the story that jumped out at me:

… Paul doesn't paint a rock or a mountain or trainshed roof. He paints the light that falls onto these things and then bounces to his eye. [Italics are Linn Westcott's]

None of the models such as those in the industrial district are modelled to exact scale. Instead Paul tried to get a credible visual effect but used distortion freely to make the most of crowded space.

There's no analysis about how to implement those strategies by mere mortals in either this story or in future stories, as there were no future stories. Maybe that Dec '61 story is all there is about the layout. Some more investigation is called for.

Paul Detlefsen is the gentleman in the dark jacket*

Apparently the layout was built in Paul Detlefsen's Southern California home. At the time the article was written Mr. Detlefsen had moved to Hawaii, and the house was empty, except for the layout. In the Mar '62 issue of MR, it's reported that the family who eventually bought the house gave the layout to the Travel Town Museum in Los Angeles' Griffith Park. I'm hoping to get out to Pasadena in the fall, and maybe I can make a side trip to Los Angeles to see for myself what's at the museum.

*That image of the models and matte used in the RKO logo was sourced and snipped from NZPete's Matte Shot. Paul Detlefsen created the cloud backdrop used in that famous logo.

Gil Mellé found by The Vinyl Detective

Recently I was in need of some light escapism and stumbled across The Vinyl Detective at just the right time. And much to my surprise found in its pages not one but two discussions of Gil Mellé recordings in this wholly satisfying tale of lost-and-found, vinyl LPs, beautiful women, Los Angeles, London, plumbing, eccentrics, cats, coffee, jazz legends real and imaginary, bus passes, serious analog turntable setups, and a very fine Barracuda. No streetcars, but hey. Nothing too mentally strenuous, just a few hours of good fun.

Tabletop Hollywood

Image sourced from this Altas Obscura story

Vince alerted me to this story in Atlas Obscura about an 11' x 12' model, made in the 1930's, of a section of Hollywood. This diorama, along with 5 other similar sections that appear to be lost, were built over a 4 year period by a 25-person team headed by a Mr. Joe Pellkofer. It's an amazing diorama and I encourage you to take a look. I especially like Mr. Pellkofer's comment: I didn’t build the damned thing to see a movie star. I built it just because I felt like it. And because Hollywood is Hollywood. It’s magic.
[24 Feb update: You can see some more images over at Discover Hollywood Magazine.]

What's the Intent?

I know, Boxing Day isn't until mid next week, but I was reading Galen's blog and he posed an interesting question about laying out the intent of a layout. Well, more precisely, he read this insightful post at Mike Cougill's blog about intent and model railroading, gave some serious thought to the intent of his own work, and kindly asked if I had any thoughts on the subject. I had to think about it a bit because I did, but haven't attempted to write them down. Fractured sleep has been my companion for the last little while, so I decided to put the demon to work and write down some thoughts on the intent of the Alta Vista TC. What follows doesn't apply to my E. L. Moore related activities, or the Elizabeth Valley tribute layout, or my interests in model railroading in earlier times.

Before we dive into the who, what, when, where and why, here’s my short answer: 

The Alta Vista TC is a slice of the Toronto-Ottawa-Los Angeles that lives in my mind.

The long answer isn’t so easy to state, but I’ll give it a try.

In this blog I don’t usually discuss things I’m not that interested in, but thought I should make an exception in this case. My guidance before going further is that if you read something below that you like but I don't, I'm not trying to insult you, I'm just trying to clarify what I'm not into so my intent is a little clearer. So, what follows are my interests – the building blocks of my intent – mixed up in a stew and seasoned a little with the chili peppers of discontent.

I’m not much of a model railroader. I like trains. I like travelling on them. I’m not interested operating models of them. I have no interest in simulating the railroad business. Timetables and rules and schedules leave me cold. Those things spell day-job to me, and I’m not interested in pursuing them as leisure. Yeah, business and profit, with all their rules and schedules and rigour, are the reasons railroads exist. I like model railroads. It's just that I don't care if they properly simulate something real. I just live with the contradiction.

I like streetcars much better than trains. I find the conventional advice about taking up streetcar modelling – the models are actually powered by electricity like the real thing, the track work is tight and constrained like the real thing, the models actually pickup power from an overhead wire like the real thing – irrelevant. If you like those things, I’m not dissing you; everyone should understand and pursue their own interests; I'm much impressed by people who pursue those aspects; I’m just saying those modelling interests aren't mine, that’s all. I like streetcars because I liked riding them when I was growing up and living in Toronto. I like the subways and buses there too. I like the light rail system here in Ottawa and the one in Los Angeles. I was primed to like them because of Toronto.

My favourite aspect of model railroading is making buildings, staging scenes and  taking pictures. As I said, I’m not much of a model railroader, and strictly speaking, I guess I’m not a model railroader at all. I like model railroads, but I’m not into modelling actual railroads. Model railroading is the gateway that lead me to what I do. Neither am I a model tractioneer - or whatever it’s called. Building complex street track and installing overhead has no intrinsic interest to me – well, maybe just enough to get the scenes I want to see; it’s just that it’s not my focus. Believe me, I find the work of others on those things fascinating, but I couldn't do it. Hopefully I've repeated myself enough on the subject of the traditional reasons to get into 'traction modelling' to get it out of my system :-)

I’m interested in the lost urban world. Lost to money and gentrification and the alternate universe we call the internet. There’s a lot that I’m glad is gone; however, much is gone that I lament. No internet browsing technology can replace the physical pleasure of riding a railed machine along a street to a remote place, getting off and walking the walk to wherever, scouring the books and records and movies and stuff on offer, finding unexpected things, meeting, looking, exploring, eating and talking, and taking home the bounty. And doing it again and again, year after year, with some new variation on the theme each time. But that’s all gone. Ok, just more-or-less all gone - I'm certainly not going to write about the remaining places where I can still find a little of it. The sterile seductive glow of the display screen can’t come close to replacing it. Maybe the new world is so drunk with efficiency that staring at a glowing slab in one’s hand is the only proper response to its banality.

I’m interested in places. I didn’t just ride the streetcars, buses and subways of the TTC for the fun of it. I had places to go. The TTC exists to take people to places. I focus on places. And they don't necessarily have to be real places, they can be speculative as long as they seem to fit the feeling I'm after. Real or imagined, places must dominate. And they must have the right vibe.

I'm interested in the feeling of a place. Or at least the feeling that comes to me when I'm there. With Toronto it's mainly nostalgia. The Toronto in my mind isn't exactly the one you'll find today when you roam its streets. With Los Angeles it's unrequited love. With Ottawa it's refuge and time travel to pockets of places that seem like things I recognize, but don't properly appreciate - I don't really understand Ottawa in it's own right and therefore have mixed impressions about the vibe it projects. Getting the feeling right on the Alta Vista TC is more important than the traditional desire for high detail and weathering. Those are parts of achieving the right vibe, but they are subservient and not primary. Paul Michael Smith's Elgin Park is the exemplar in my mind for modelling brilliance in the service of vibe. 

I'm interested in Noir fiction. Mainly classic crime Noir: Philip Marlowe, Lew Archer, Claire DeWitt, Mister X and their fictional brethren. Noir strikes a chord with me. Noir is the flip side of the good vibe of places and exploration the city has to offer. Noir seems to me an urban thing. There might be rural Noir and country Noir - I haven't studied Noir that closely to know. Raymond Chandler made Los Angeles the birthplace of what I think of as classic Noir. Toronto is Noir even though its residents might deny it. Ottawa isn't Noir just yet, but with the sharp increase in gun crime it's on its way. At present it's more Bureaucratic Gothic combined with doses of Techno Thriller. The Pale King meets Cryptonomicon. Some aspect of Noir should be present in the Alta Vista TC. I'm not sure how to accomplish it.

I’m interested in light. Have been for a long time. Light was just about the only subject in high school physics that I actually enjoyed. As a boy, one of my earliest memories is of walking to a local convenience store to buy a jug of milk for my mum, and along the way wondering why how the same light comes into everyone’s eyes, but everyone seemed to react differently to things. Crazy, I know, and I don’t think I summarized it quite like that as a boy, but that’s the modern gist of it. I knew light came into my eye, somehow did something in my brain and the world appeared. And that world didn't appear the same to everyone. Light was the key, but I didn’t know what to. All I can say today is that buildings and places must provide light and be shaped by it or they'll appear dead.

I’m interested in watercolour painting’s infinite ability to represent the effects of light. I don’t use light enough in my work and I need to. It’s something I want to work on. One thing that strikes me is how flat and uniform a lot of model railroad photos are. That’s good for studying details and such, but things aren’t illuminated like that in the world, or at least in the world I see.

I'm interested in being able to look into and through buildings and see things along the path from outside to inside to outside again. I once thought of this as Selective Staging. I don't want model buildings to always be opaque structures that you must look around. A bit of that is good, but not every building is a fortress.

I'm interested in walking. Streetcars are an aid to walking. There needs to be a network of interconnected sidewalks to reflect that reality. On the Lost Ocean Line I deliberately made sure that sidewalks connected all the places, and the same will hold for the Alta Vista TC.

I'm interested in spacing. That is, making sure the roads and sidewalks are wide enough, the gaps between buildings and objects make sense, the arrangements of people seem natural, and so on. And all that needs to be balanced against the confines of a small layout. 

I'm interested in water. Ottawa is defined by two rivers; Toronto by a great lake; Los Angeles by an ocean. Strangely, I'm an air sign. Although I'm trained in aeronautics, I'm attracted to water. So much for astrology. To me a layout needs a water feature, no matter how small. It could be just a fountain or even a puddle.

All of the above is a lot of intent for one little model world to carry. There's enough for several projects. The thing to note is that they aren't a list of deliverables, just a list of guiding principles.

Well, that's the stew. If I could lay it all out precisely in text - properly describe the vibe - maybe I wouldn't find modelling so compelling.

Flying Tiger PCC

Vince and I were chatting and I mentioned an interesting old book I bought over the summer: The Los Angeles Railway Through The Years by Steven L. Easklon, published in 1973. One of the things I particularly like about it is it's chock full of photos, and lots of them are L.A. street scenes of the 1930s and 1940s. Even so, this PCC photo attributed to William Bassler jumped out at me. Its caption reads: Above is P.C.C. #3010 at the east end of the "P" line sporting the famous Flying Tiger paint scheme during World War II advertising a need for streetcar motormen. That would make one impressive model, especially in TTC red.

Red Car's Dimise

If you've got 10 minutes, this is an interesting video that busts the myths surrounding what caused the closure of Los Angeles' streetcar system. Oddly enough, I stumbled across this video at JazzWax.

Studebaker Lark?

Back in May I happened to see this car in a Target parking lot in Buena Park, CA. Although the front end appears to have seen some rough times, overall it's still looking good and fixable. An internet search suggests it might be a 2-door Studebaker Lark wagon which was introduced to the market in 1959.

Going through Mueller Tunnel

We did go through Mueller Tunnel to see what was on the other side. The tunnel itself was dank, dark and foreboding - a Mount Doom type scenario. But, it was short. The portal on the other side wasn't in as good a shape as the entrance and was heavily eroded. The lower photo gives a better idea of the sheerness of the drop into the canyon. I was surprised to meet two French mountain bikers on this road. The loose roadbed, stray boulders and at times narrow trail, didn't seem to bother them at all. When we crossed paths they greeted us with a cheery, "How do you like hiking in the clouds", and zoomed on their way. More power to them!

Mueller Tunnel

Last weekend we were in Los Angeles. I had a plan to hike Mt. Lowe and see whatever there was to see of the Mt. Lowe Railway ruins. Long story short: things happened, plans changed, but we did hike a little on Mt. Lowe Road. To get there we drove up the Angeles Crest Highway - a small adventure in and of itself - and then along the Mount Wilson Road in the San Gabriel Mountains. The Mueller Tunnel in the opening picture is on the Mt. Lowe Road. Although it's called a road, it's only hike-able. The cliffs are more or less vertical at the tunnel, and it seemed that one false step on the loose road bed and you'd fall into Eaton Canyon on the left and never be heard from again - sounds like a premise of a murder mystery :-) The altitude at the tunnel entrance is around 5,200 ft, and that day the entire road was enveloped in dense cloud. The next day saw us back at sea-level in Huntington Beach. No clouds, just the sun that the Los Angeles area is famous for. I'll give the Mt. Lowe trails another try next year. Hopefully I'll be smarter and have more time.

Metropolis II

Metropolis II (The Movie) from Supermarché: Henry & Rel on Vimeo.

Metropolis II isn’t a layout in the traditional model railroad sense, but it does capture the frenetic energy and insanity of our modern urban world. No doubt about that. I was saddened to hear that its maker, the pioneering performance artist, Chris Burden, died over the weekend. Metropolis II was but one piece in a long and successful artistic career. You can get a sense of his life and work at these articles in the LA Times  and NY Times.
{post updated on 12 May 2015.}

San Gabriel Mountains National Monument

Some good news for the preservation of whatever remains of the Mount Lowe Railway. According to this U. S. Forest Service post,

“On Oct. 10, 2014, President Barack Obama designated 346,177 acres of existing federal lands as the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument, the eighth national monument under Forest Service management.” And in particular, “The monument holds evidence of more than 8,000 years of human history, including more than 600 archeological sites, three of which are on the National Register of Historic Places, as well as ruins of old cabins and the Mount Lowe Railway.”