Stu News and Photos

...So, we woke up Sunday morning, determined to make the most out of the day, especially as we were alone, just the two of us (the kids were with their father for the weekend). We hadn't been rockhunting for a while, so we set our sights on a variety of sites. One of them seemed to ring our chimes, the Bronson Caves.

The Bronson Caves is an area in the lower-right section of Griffith Park, near the corner of Western and Los Feliz. This area was used for the filming of the BatCave from the tv show Batman.



It wasn't much of a hike to get to the cave (which is one of three that are next to each other, inside the batcave). But once we got there, there was plenty to explore. As we got closer to the cave, I began to look around, which was when I noticed the Hollywood sign.



Right in the path of my view of the sign was a hillock, and with adventure in my soul, and a deep desire to get a better photo, up the hill I went. It was pretty steep, and as it had rained recently, there was about twenty feet near the top that was loose dirt, making the climb rather difficult. But I put my weight into it and found myself on the top, which gave me a much better view of the sign:



And with my zoom, I was able to get this shot:



And before I climbed back down, I was able to get this shot, which should give you some idea of how high I had climbed:



I took several more pics, enjoyed the view for a moment more, then down I went, enjoying the descent on my keister, even though the seat of my jeans found itself holed up in box canyon.

We explored a bit further, walked through the caves, which are more like small tunnels, and found ourselves on the other side, which was a much larger area, an area used to film a variety of tv and film, most famously Star Trek, The Undiscovered Country. Heck, even as we were looking around, there was a director and two actors rehearsing for a shoot:



We walked around some more, exploring more of the area, hunting for rocks and enjoyed the splendid scenery. As we were walking back out of that area, anticipating a further hike up the trail, we ran into a guy who was talking to his wife and friends about this area being "holy ground" in the film/tv industry. I heard this as we passed, so I looked at him and uttered an "amen," which caused him to pause and begin a conversation with me. The gray-haired, bearded gentleman regaled Leslie and I with a laundry list of westerns that were filmed on this small patch of land. He introduced himself as Bob Anderson at one point, and if I'm correct, than he's this Bob Anderson. He was a font of information and trivia; I was enraptured.

But not too enraptured that, while listening to him, I noticed I didn't have my wedding ring on. As he continued to speak, I, as discretely as possible, started searching all of my pockets. Nope, no ring. Now I'm smiling and nodding at the guy, all the while I'm retracing my steps in my head. Where did I put my ring? Did I leave it in the truck?

That's when I remembered that, as we were leaving the truck, I went into the back seat, to get my backpack. As I leaned over the grab the bag, my wedding ring slipped off (I've lost a little weight since I was first sized). As I grabbed it, I thought of putting it in my bag or my pocket, but then I stopped myself, put the ring on my finger, saying "All good things start with Leslie" and continued on my way.

Now my panic was in high gear. I was pretty sure that I had lost it during the scramble up the hill, in all that loose soil. As politely as I could, I ended our conversation with Mr. Anderson. As soon as he was out of earshot, I grabbed Leslie's arm and told her of the lost ring. I was really freaking, just inconsolable. I ran back to the hill, and climbed it again, my eyes searching everywhere, hoping for a glint of gold.

Nothing.

I came back down, dejected, depressed, and coated in dirt. As I babbled to my wife, on the verge of a complete breakdown, she grabbed my arm, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "Hey, it's just a piece of metal."

It worked. I instantly got a hold of myself, calmed down, and remembered that the jeweler who created our rings was still in business and in good health. So I could just beg him to craft me a duplicate ring.

The rest of the day was spent hiking back to the truck, finding a nice restaurant, eating a lovely dinner, and being romantical. My wife, G-d bless her. She's always there for me, always knowing what to say, and how to soothe me. Leslie is the music that calms my savage breast.

Today I will head over to our jewelers, Avanti Jewelers in Hermosa Beach, and I will pick my ring up from Kevin, the owner. When I put it on, I will utter the immortal words of Sweeney Todd, "At last my arm is complete!"