November 2007 Archives

Two cases prove this, one in Wisconsin, one in Arizona. They also both show that arguing you shot someone in self-defense when there were no witnesses around doesn't work.

I noticed when I google each of the names, the Arizona shooter, Harold Fish comes up in a number of pro-gun web sites which decry his conviction. Not the case for James Nichols, the Wisconsin hunter who shot a member of the Hmong (highland people from Southeast-Asia) community. Probably because of this:

Nichols also told authorities Hmong people are bad, mean and "kill everything and that they go for anything that moves."

That and his victim had a shotgun wound and five stabbing wounds. That's some suspicious self-defense.... hard to think of a scenario where you have to defend yourself further after either a) blasting someone with a shotgun or b) stabbing someone five times.

The crime was a few years after a Hmong hunter went berserk and shot six white hunters in a nearby area.

The facts in the Fish case are a little more difficult to interpret: no clear motive, no criminal record, etc. But on the other hand, Fish did shoot his victim with hollow point bullets which expand in a person's body to look like this, and are particularly lethal to human beings. They are commonly used in hunting, but Fish had a handgun. Later jurors who were interviewed said they were particularly bothered by his use of that ammo, though to me, since it's legal to use, that shouldn't really factor in the case. The problem I have is why the ammo is legal in the first place for handguns.

I also wonder why Fish had the handgun when he was reportedly just out for a hike... seems like nothing but trouble to be packing heat in that situation.

10,834 feet high, the separation point between the Mojave and the urban sprawl of four counties, Mt. San Jacinto is the roof of Los Angeles. Though Mt Gorgonio is higher, it doesn't separate the two areas so neatly.

I climbed the 4,500 foot, 16 mile route, avoiding the "easy" 12-mile, 2,400 foot route that comes from the Palm Springs Tram, finishing a few hours before my view would have been marred by tons of smoke and ash from fires in Malibu, Santa Clarita, and all over San Bernardino County. As it was, I had a fantastic view from the Santa Ana winds that ended up causing those fires.

On the way back down the mountain, I took some liberties in descending the mountain without watching where I was going (the very top doesn't really have a clearly-defined trail, and is covered with a forest of short pine trees), and soon found myself much further down the mountain than I wanted to be without knowing where I was. Whoops.

Good thing I put food, water, light, and extra layer of clothing in my trusty backpack. Except that trusty backpack was hidden between two boulders further down on the mountain: my aching shoulders led me to cache the thing about a mile and a half below the summit, and make my ascent with one partially-filled water bottle. Which was empty at that point. Suddenly the alpine winds felt a little chillier blowing on my sweat-drenched t-shirt.

Fortunately, it isn't too hard to navigate when you can see the outskirts of Palm Springs. I knew I had to walk far enough in the town's direction that the wind turbines (pictured left) would be behind me. I actually had to head back up the mountain slightly and jump over some hairy-looking boulders, before I spotted the trail. I had come out almost as far down as where I left my backpack. Ultimately, I think it was a shortcut.

So, scratch off the top peak in the San Jacinto range. I already have the top Santa Monica peak (easy) and the top San Gabriel peak (tough). Next, San Gorgonio.

About 4,000 feet above the last known home of Charles Manson, in the Panamint Range is an old abandoned mining town. I always find it strange to find abandoned places that were easier to get to a century ago: the best example in Los Angeles are the remains of the White City Resort on Echo Mountain, where you could get by train from Downtown Los Angeles in two hours 100 years ago. Now it is a 1,400 foot ascent- still not that hard to get to, but you have to at least put on walking clothes, and get yourself motivated for a hike.

In the case of Surprise Canyon, a town that once had a full-time population, and even a local newspaper (picture Deadwood), now has a rare desert waterfall where there was once a gravel road (see below):

After decades of abandonment, the remnants of the gravel road were swept away in an apocalyptic storm in 1986 that unleashed an underground riverbed that now flows from the town down to the beginning of the hike, leaving rare desert greenery behind:

Today there is a angry dispute between environmentalists and off-roaders, who want to run their vehicles up this "road" or as it appeared to me during the hike, riverbed. Shortly before I went on this hike I went off-roading with a group from the Valley, who were very much in favor of taking their jeeps up the impossibly steep cliffs of the riverbed. Though I enjoyed the ride with them, and appreciated their passion for their sport, I think they are overreaching in their desire to use this area for off-roading again.

Which, for now anyway, leaves it to us hikers. There is no easy way to reach this one-time silver-mining community besides a round-trip 13-mile, 3,200 foot altitude gain slog through the desert heat. The upside of the hike, however, is that hiking up a riverbed you have plenty of water. Without the stream I think I would have exhausted myself carrying enough water to satisfy my immense thirst in the desert dryness.

To see the location of this hike, check out this new hiking map I am working on. Though it is a work in progress, it is easy to get directions to the several hikes that are listed. Check back for more descriptions and info